Training Sessions | Business & Pleasure pt. 2
Gif not mine, credit to creator
Pairing: Silverfox!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 6,207
Warnings: Mommy Kink, Semi-Age Play, Controlling Behavior, Manipulation, Degradation, Punishments, Brat Taming, Spankings, First Times, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Possessiveness, Praise, Aftercare | 18+ Minors DNI
A/N: Sorry for the short and rushed chapter, enjoy!
Summary: In which Natasha aims to train a pet who doesn’t want to easily give in, leading you to act out until she firmly puts an end to it.
Series Master List
Rules were to be followed, but when it came down to it, you’d rather spit on the makers on them rather than forcefully submit to dictating hands. They were to be enforced on the daily, a copy being framed over the wall of your bedroom, referred to as a ‘playroom’ instead. Each rule was even more tedious than the last, mostly referencing the behaviors you were to follow — no talking back, no slouching, and mostly importantly to always listen to what mommy says. With each passing day you huffed at them, but as soon as you slid down the staircase, you involuntarily found yourself following them.
Natasha’s unmistakable humming of lullabies in the morning was something you had grown used to. In the past two weeks you had spent there, all your time consumed with her presence, she had barely touched you let alone for lingering gazes and ghostlike prodding before she went away. Even then you could sense the desire that grew within her. Even as a cold and calculated being, Natasha couldn’t keep her patience intact for long. At some point she had to snap and hunt down her prey.
“Good morning,” you always said, standing by the doorway towards the kitchen, back straightened out with your arms behind it. “It smells nice.”
“Good morning, sweetheart. I assume you aren’t against the idea of pancakes,” Natasha hummed. She didn’t give you the benefit of a simple look until she was done stacking another fresh pancake atop a small mountain. Forcing you to wait, she eventually turned around, eyebrows raised as she faced you. “You can sit down right here,” she pointed to a stool on the kitchen island. “Have you brushed your teeth, made your bed, and cleaned yourself up?”
“Yes, ma’am,” you stammered out, eyes downcast. “Sorry, mommy.”
There was an unspoken air of tension surrounding the two of you. Even in the large house the self-proclaimed minimalist owned, you couldn’t find a smidge of privacy. Whether she was home or at work, Natasha’s eyes were everywhere. She noticed your every step, able to see whether even a cushion was slightly misplaced upon her arrival home. With the eyes of an eagle, she ruled over you with a tight fist.
“Seeing as your contract is for a year, I thought we could get to know each other a bit better. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, my dear, so how about mommy takes you out for dinner tonight? You’ve been such a good girl as of late, you deserve it,” she tenderly spoke before sliding a plate towards you. Natasha was the one to swirl copious amounts of syrup over the pancakes, knowing that too much sugar was bad for such a small creature as yourself. “You can speak, detka. Now eat up. You need all your energy if you want to grow to be a strong girl like your mommy.”
“I would like that, really. I think it might take me a bit to get used to…this, but I appreciate you trying to help,” you fondly replied. It wasn’t rare for Natasha to grab her own plate of food before moving close to your own seat, her hands finding your fork and breaking the pancakes into little pieces before feeding them to you drowned in syrup. “Where are we going?”
Shoving the fork in your mouth, Natasha hummed. “Well I thought about bringing you to my favorite restaurant, but that is far too uptight and boring for a sweet little one like you. How about we go somewhere fun? I heard of this place with an arcade in it. Once you eat all your food like a good girl, then we can play a few games. Is that something you’d like, babygirl?” As you chewed your breakfast, she used her free hand to cup your face before squeezing harshly. “Be a good pet and say yes.”
Gulping down the mixture of fear and pancakes, you nodded with a forced smile. “Yes, mommy. I would love that so much, thank you.”
Each time Natasha guided you around you wished to kick and scream – to stomp your feet on the ground and huff until you could properly give her a piece of your mind. The one thing which kept you on your best behavior was the framed list of punishments which mirrored that of the rules. The last thing you wanted was to be bent over her lap, your ass smacked until you cried out for her to stop only for the older woman to pretend not to hear you. But your biggest fear came from you ignoring the existence of the safe-word ‘leaf’, instead showing your adoration for the pain and humiliation she’d give you.
When Natasha’s hand squeezed your own, you were broken away from your thoughts. She took the liberty to help you towards the door of the restaurant after having picked you up on her BMW upon her arrival from work – she promised she’d show you off there one day. While she amicably chatted with the greeter, longing for a table in deep privacy, you looked around the place.
Flashing lights garnered your attention, the cool air of the establishment forcing goosebumps up your bare legs, thighs only covered by the short overalls Natasha had made you wear. She had complete control over you, your clothes for that matter. After pairing a baby blue shirt with overalls and Converse shoes, she deemed you worthy to leave the house by her side.
“Come along, princess. Our table is ready,” Natasha told you as she tugged you around.
A strange sense of giddiness set itself at the pit of your stomach. You had been battling with your own mind non-stop since the day you moved into the house. Tossing and turning each night, Natasha was all that was in your mind. She hadn’t forced herself onto you, not yet at least, but you could tell that even in her silence she aimed to break you. It wouldn’t be that easy, and when the time came where she gave up and sent you off, you’d only laugh in her face breaking away from the vicious cycle of being dependent.
“Here’s your table, ma’am. And here are some menus for the two of you,” the greeter cheerfully said. “Your waiter will be here in a few, enjoy!”
While eyeing the menu sitting upon your face, you disregarded the hard look Natasha gave the man. His focus was entirely on you, most importantly the thighs she left mostly bare for her own enjoyment, not his. With the green, priceless power she held at the tips of her finger she could deal with him accordingly, but as she huffed, Natasha settled on having a decent evening, not scaring you away more than she had.
“Don’t bother looking at the menu. Mommy will order for you, alright? You are too little to be doing that by yourself,” Natasha explained without tearing her deep viridescent eyes off the food listed beneath her. “You can choose your drink if you’d like, but remember you’re too small to have alcohol, and soda is only reserved for special occasions.”
“So am I supposed to order just water all the time?” You questioned with furrowed eyebrows.
“Or juice. They’re both very healthy, so long as the juice isn’t stuffed with horrible sugar. I wouldn’t want my baby to get any nasty cavities.”
During the conversation Natasha refused to look at you, adding further to the shame you felt forming at your reddened cheeks. She was confident in that way, fully overshadowing every ounce of your own and turning it to insecurities. There was no need to bother herself staring your way as she knew you’d be on your best behavior. You could never put it past the older woman to punish you in public, fearing the time already looming with your growing bratty remarks growing.
“That’s bullshit. I understand you get off on the whole power trip thing, but you can’t control what I eat and what I don’t,” you mumbled under your breath, harshly boring your eyes at her pristine features. “I’m not a child, Natasha. I’m pretty sure I can survive one night choosing shit for myself.”
There were many things Natasha tolerated, mostly the incompetence displayed by her employees at work, but the breaking of rules was not a thing which amused her. Red lips turned to a straight line, her eyes darkening as her silver hair shone underneath the faux lights of the restaurant. With how busy it was through your surroundings, it would be easy for her anger to get lost and drowned.
As she leaned in, you prepared yourself for the worst. “Watch your fucking mouth, you stupid little mutt. Don’t you dare forget that I am the reason you’re not whoring yourself out in the streets for money. You will do as I say, that’s the end of it. Otherwise I can and will deal with you as I please. Now shut the fuck up and behave,” she carried immense calmness whilst talking, your soul already dripping in her hands. “Don’t give me a reason to punish you for the first time. You and I both know it won’t be pretty.” At her words, you nodded with a knot forming at your throat where bile threatened to rise. “Apologize. Now.”
“I’m really sorry,” even with feigned confidence still holding your walls up, your face burned bright red. Tears formed over your glassy eyes before threatening to fall at the sight of Natasha’s hard gaze. She sighed in relief, knowing she had perhaps gone too far, but that didn’t change your outlook. “I won’t do it again. Nat- mommy…I’m sorry.”
“Good. Clean your face up, I hate cry babies and stupid brats.”
Dinner service went smoother than you had imagined. Natasha had ordered fries alongside chicken tenders for you, promising that if you didn’t act out for the remainder of your time at the table, that she’d let you pick dessert. “This is how it is, sweetheart,” she started. “If you behave, you get rewarded. If you misbehave, mommy punishes you.”
Each word that she spewed you believed. Her attention was primarily set on you, at times leaning in to feed you across the table, ignoring all the curious prying eyes in your surroundings. As though she witnessed the show of the century, an act of merit and beauty, Natasha tilted her head. She didn’t stop staring until you were halfway through your food before digging into her own.
You’d be a liar if you said you hated the way her heel-covered-foot rose up your leg. With feigned innocence Natasha would tease you, inching higher and higher until her sharp heel dug into your skin. Even as you hissed she didn’t stop. Anything in the name of proving how much you needed her.
“I ate all my food,” you stated once you finished the last of your fries, reaching out hesitantly towards the water cup before you got a nod of approval. “Can we get dessert now? I did what you told me…mommy.”
“Hm, cute,” she whispered, eyebrows raised with surprise at your actions. “Tell me, princess, what would you like to eat for dessert?” Natasha accented her words by hiking up her foot until you could feel the graze of the tip of her heel between your legs. “I’m feeling quite peckish myself.”
Once settling on a bowl of ice cream, you remained frozen in place. It was up to Natasha to feed you, moving from her side of the booth to yours so she could drag a spoonful of the chocolatey goodness and place it in your mouth. Even with the taste of a freezing cold treat, you warmed up to the silverfox woman.
She took her time staring at your lips, watching them part themselves for her to inch inside. The deep, dark, emptiness in her eyes was substituted by joy. Natasha could look at you for the rest of time if allowed to do so. By your side, she felt much happier than the last few years she trickled through alongside Maria.
“You did a good job,” she admitted while rubbing a napkin over your mouth that was surrounded by a mess of chocolate. “There’s going to be some bumps in the road, my princess, but we’ll get through them. I need you to always remember your place.” With your head held in her hands, Natasha felt at ease. “You’re a good girl, I know you are. All I need is for you to show me exactly that. Now let’s go to the bathroom and get those hands cleaned up before we play a few games. Maybe mommy will win you that cute unicorn my girl has been eyeing.”
That night you went home with the very same unicorn she described. In the back seat of the car you fell asleep holding it, Natasha eyeing you from the rearview mirror with a tender smile before naming it ‘Honey’ just for you. For the first time ever she allowed herself to take a peek through the cracked door of your playroom as you slept, happy to finally have found the one.
“When we arrive you will not do anything unless I tell you so. You are there to keep your mouth shut and be shown off, to remain quiet while mommy does all the talking. I don’t want you to look or talk to anyone. You are to stay in my office at all times. I’ve taken the liberty to set up a playpen for you, love. All you have to do is…”
Natasha’s words trailed off, becoming almost echoes to the sounds of horns and screaming all through the city. You despised such loud crowds, the packed nature of the citizens across the nation. They almost mirrored that of sardines.
A hand coated by various rings squeezed your own, the jewelry leaving heavy imprints on your palm. With all that lay deep inside, Natasha was not one to have misbehavior. She frowned at you, the distracted nature present in your features that she attempted to shake away without success. Lost in your own thoughts, she let you wander off until you arrived at the building.
“Sweetheart, I need you to listen to mommy.” You were glad the partition was set between the area you sat in and the driver’s seat. Turning to Natasha, you stared back blankly. “Are you going to behave for me?”
A month into the relationship and there hadn’t been a punishment in sight. She found it boring, equally stale to the marriage she once shared with Maria. There was no joy in having a pet who wouldn’t fight back. Natasha longed to slap the words off your lips when you talked back, to grab a fistful of your hair and tug at it until she dragged you to the playroom where she’d promptly throw you over the floor before making you regret crossing her. Her hair was slicked back into a pristine bun, but her mind was in a messy turmoil.
“I will,” you replied. “I pinky promise.”
She humored your adorable nature to stick your pinky finger out and wrap it with her own until she felt safe enough to let go. You couldn’t put a pin in what made you that way. When around Natasha, all your inhibitions went away. Sitting atop could nine, you were empty-headed, not a thought passing behind your sweet eyes that looked up at her with such adoration.
Hearing so many stories late at night when Natasha brushed your hair, you were nervous to set foot into her office. All you had gathered from her daily rambles was that her business reeked with incompetence. There was not a soul there that didn’t infuriate who was your new owner, not even her ditzy assistant that made a mess of her schedule on a weekly basis, or the head of human resources who couldn’t hold a conversation with the boss without stammering through his sentences.
“Breathe, little one. I can feel you shaking from here,” she whispered as the two of you stood in the elevator that moved upwards. “You’ll be alright, Y/N. Everyone's going to love you. How could they not? Just look at you – you’re so perfect. Mommy’s beautiful angel.”
Staring down at your outfit, you begged to differ. Pink, you had learned but especially in a pastel arena, was a color Natasha adored on you. She’d spend hours taking you from store to store, shoving whatever item toned with the light hue into the cart before guiding you off to the next one. While she paid no mind to the silly clothes that clung to your body, you couldn’t help but grimace at the pastel pink miniskirt and the awfully tight white camisole.
All eyes were on the two of you as soon as you stepped off the elevator into the highest floor of the building. Natasha had a suave walk, her features unamused as everyone turned to face the creature that held her arm tight enough, you were sure it would fall off.
“I told you to breathe, puppy,” she reminded you, chuckling at how you could barely get yourself to walk through the sea of attention. “Oh you look so cute giving everyone a little show. You know your skirt keeps riding up…”
It was enough to nearly get you to bolt to her office as Natasha pushed the door open. You tugged down your skirt, embarrassed to have given everyone such a view while the other woman laughed at your expense. There was no shame in showing you off at her prized possession.
“That’s not funny! You made me wear this stupid thing and now everyone saw.”
“I thought you liked the little strawberry panties mommy got you. Don’t go around breaking my heart,” Natasha feigned a pout. She cornered you, your back hitting her desk as you nearly tripped over your feet. With a hand making itself up your thigh, your breath hitched. “Can I see, baby? Show mommy at least. Oh we both know you’re practically begging for me to touch you, but you can’t get that just yet. I want to wait and make it special for my girl.”
Natasha ended up getting a peek of your underwear whether you liked it or not. To add onto the cherry waves of humiliation, she took it a step further and snapped a picture of the rosy panties with small strawberries around it. It would be long until she told you of all the perverted images she already had of you from when she snuck into your room in the dead of the night.
The mortification you previously felt subsided as the day went on. In the privacy of Natasha’s office you had questioned the need for a playpen by her desk, but with the quietness you threw at you, you knew to sit inside the designated area and never ask questions. It was unbecoming of a little girl to go against her mommy’s wishes, she said – of course Natasha was right.
While dubious at first, you found yourself at peace within the confines of the plastic playpen walls. Natasha had taken the liberty to, much like your room, adorn it with a variety of stuffed animals, pillows, and blankets. She allowed you to have her iPad so long as the parental locks remained on, letting you sprawl yourself over the matted floor where you watched the cartoons she allowed you to see all handpicked herself.
“Would you like a snack, my darling?” Natasha asked halfway through the day. “Here, you must be hungry, huh? Your tummy is all icky? Let mommy help you.”
There was a whole mini-fridge and section she left just for you, preparing it with its entirety filled with copious amounts of snacks you adored alongside drinks just for you. With a tender gaze, Natasha fed you them from over the playpen. She pet your head, kissing the top of your head as you sipped on the bottle of orange juice.
While you casually remained in place for the day, Natasha working quietly on her desk, the irritation in you grew to exponential levels. Suddenly all that lay in your quiet, thoughtless mind were bouts of mischief.
“Mommy?” There was still uncertainty when it came to using the honorific, but slowly you grew more adjusted to it. “Can I come out now?”
“Not yet, princess. It’s not even lunch time yet,” Natasha chuckled without tearing her sight away from her papers. With each passing hour her stack seemed to grow bigger, her assistant bringing in more and more for her to work through – she was far too afraid of her boss to dare avert her eyes towards you or acknowledge you in any way. “Sit tight, my love. Soon enough mommy will get you out and we can go find some yummy lunch to have together. Be patient, little one.”
“But I want it now!” You huffed, kicking your feet against the playpen that you sat in. “I don’t want to be here. Get me out.”
“Was I not clear or did you smack your little head on the pavement? I said no,” she roared, her assistant beneath the confines of the office surely fearing the sound of it. “Stay right there and close your mouth. There’s less than half an hour until lunch. Are you too dumb to wait, sweetheart?”
Ignoring Natasha, you kicked the playpen again. “Get. Me. Out.”
“No,” she flatly responded. “Now behave and stop kicking around unless you want me to punish you.”
“I don’t care about your stupid rules or punishments. I want to get out now,” you had the same fire in your eyes as she did. Rather than kick the plastic walls, you settled for rising to your feet, easily able to step over them before sticking your tongue out towards Natasha. “I’m getting food now, not when you say so.”
It all happened in a manner of a split-second that you let your guard down. Not even three steps were taken towards the door when a strong hand found its way upon your hair, turning to a fist quickly before pulling back with immeasurable harshness. Even if you nearly tripped over your feet, a hiss escaping your torn lips, Natasha didn’t care. All she was focused on was dragging you towards her desk and throwing you over it, not caring for the papers that flew around or were destroyed in the process.
Hastily your skirt was forced up, your underwear drawn down until it pooled at your feet, brushing against your shaky legs. For the first time you felt those strong, confident hands on your cheeks, squeezing and prodding as though they belonged there. There was no universe where Natasha’s growing anger would allow her to be kind. And as soon as you were about to question her motives with a snarl, she smacked your backside lugging a scream from the depths of your throat.
“You stupid mutt. You’ve been doing so well, huh? And then you decide to throw it all away for what?!” She spit her words, slapping your ass once again, basking on the adorably fearing yelps you gave her. “Oh I just know you’ve been waiting for this. You wanted mommy to touch you and bratting out was the only way you could get it. How fucking cute.”
She hit you again, and again, and even more with each cry that stuffed the room already reeking with the stench of sex from your drenched cunt in full display. Natasha didn’t care to stop. Her mind was elsewhere, flying across the sky of conviction as she made you see the importance of following the rules.
“Nat-” you sobbed, never having felt such pain in your life – much less adore it with such passion. “Mommy please stop.”
“Oh now you want to stop? I thought you were too fucking stupid to know what that word meant. Too bad I don’t care,” she said. Her eyes drifted down to your slick cunt, a giggling escaping her perfectly plump lips before she smacked her hand between your legs. “You’re so pathetic. Are you really telling me this makes you wet, honey? Look at how puffy and pretty your pussy looks – all mine.” Rubbing a finger over your slit, you hoped she’d cease her torture, but it only continued with another strike upon the sensitive area with a tint that matched the reddened hue of your ass. “If you wanted mommy to fuck you, you could’ve used your big girl words. Now look at what you got yourself into. You deserve this, don’t you?” When you didn’t reply, more pain was exerted over you. “Answer me.”
“Yes, I deserve it!” You mustered out. Tears began forming over your eyes, but Natasha easily got off on such sadness displayed on your features. “I’m really sorry for misbehaving but-”
“No buts, darling. When mommy tells you what to do, you do it without question. Only good girls get rewarded,” she didn’t hesitate reminding you, her free hand forcing your head to remain pressed against the desk as she used the other to continuously hurt you. “And bad girls get punished.”
While you knew a simple word could stop it, you didn’t dare humor such a stupidly shameful idea. Instead you opted to bask in the adoration you received from each blow, your shaky, unsure voice thanking Natasha for so much as looking at you. Your cunt throbbed with each passing second, but with patience and resilience building up, you knew it was only a matter of time until you were given what your desperate needs longed for.
“I’ll teach you how to be a good pet for mommy,” Natasha whispered against your ear, her front pressed against your swollen backside. “And then I’ll break you with every fucking ounce of me until you can’t think about anything but me.”
With your first punishment, the process had already begun.
The sadistic side of Natasha was one you adored, but the softness that came after, so sweet and tenderly loving, was something you never expected and began getting used to. Even after exuding all her frustrations over your frail body, she was prepared with a bottle of lotion that she rubbed against your tender skin. With a kiss befallen on your lower back and words of affirmation you had waited to hear all your life, your heart began opening up to her.
Days upon days had passed with you rummaging through the same scene in your head. It was a contract the two of you had signed, and yet you never thought she’d stick to the regimen of caring for you as she had promised. Natasha didn’t dare have a day pass where she didn’t ask how you felt, and if at any point she had to carry out a punishment – even those which involved kneeling on rice or sitting in a corner for a given timeframe – the aftercare she brought you made you feel loved for once.
So much so that slowly you began seeing her more as a partner than your temporary owner.
“I’m ready,” you told her once as you sat lounging around her living room, her eyes stuck on the television where you watched a movie – Natasha would never admit she enjoyed the quiet, almost domestic moments you spent together. Turning towards you, she frowned. “It’s been over a month. Shouldn’t we have already…you know?”
The innuendo didn’t go missed in her mind as Natasha raised her eyebrows. “I was waiting for a special occasion, to have trained you better at the very least.” Booping your nose, she chuckled. “Someone still enjoys getting under my skin. My touch is something you earn, not beg for. I’m not one for pets who won’t listen to their masters.”
No matter how tough she made herself out to be, you didn’t ignore the way her breath hitched when you moved from your place on the couch to her lap. The confidence that radiated from Natasha was one absorbed within you, making you much sure of yourself in the days you spent being pulled around by her.
Tilting your head in a similar manner as her, you couldn’t help but brush a hand through the silver strands of her hair. “I’ve given you everything you wanted – my life, my soul, and my freedom. By now you’d think I would’ve earned it.” Shaking your head, you grabbed Natasha’s hands with your own. “Please, mommy. I don’t think I can go through another day without you in me. I just…I really need you, please. Don’t you want to make your baby happy?”
Pushing her hands against your breasts, you let out an exaggerated moan only reserved for Natasha. “Fuck,” she mumbled. “Pretty puppy can’t go another day like this, huh? Oh you’re something else, Y/N, really. Hmm I suppose arrangements can be made…” she trailed off before squeezing your tits, thumbs rolling over your erect nipples easily visible by your lack of a bra. “Do you want to scream for me, pet?”
With a softness trickling beneath her freezing soul, Natasha didn’t hesitate any longer to get you into the playroom. Your heart raced, her own skipping a beat as the dimly-lit room accented her features. Even without an ounce of makeup, her small wrinkles in full view, you swore you had never seen a specimen with such beauty bestowed upon her.
Underneath the blanket of darkness she undressed you. There was a slight shakiness to her touch, a hesitance of a woman who hadn’t dared experience such pleasures since the separation of her long-term wife. Lips touched your skin, the loving embrace of her mouth planting itself over you.
“You’re beautiful, pet,” she whispered to you with each article of clothing she threw over the floor. “A perfect little girl. Fuck, look how pretty you are for mommy.”
Insecurity drove her hesitation to pull at her own clothes, instead viridescent eyes remained following your body as she placed you upon the soft mattress. The thud that came out from her throat as she pinned you down made your eyes widen. Looking up, you couldn’t tell whether she was your owner or lover.
Your hands came together as you fought with her robes, pulling them off as she leaned in to take you for herself for the first time. It was the first kiss she gave you, the brand of ownership she had left to give you. There was a moment of uncertainty, not having dared settle into such a world since Maria. But as you kissed her back, all her walls were torn down.
“Lay back, princess. Let mommy make it all better,” she told you, lips brushing over your own. “I’m right here, honey.”
Her body defined the word of beauty. It was pristine, even with the stretch marks you traced with your fingertips. She didn’t allow you to stare without her insecurities skyrocketing, instead turning the focus entirety onto you.
With a hand hugging your body, the over danced down your midsection. Natasha kissed your lips, making out with the glow in you radiating and blinding her with adoration. She scratched the itch that had long overtaken her being. Swiping a finger over your throbbing cunt, she suppressed a moan with your lips. From then on you realized leaving the silverfox woman would be improbable.
“Oh mommy that feels good,” you hummed, fingers turning to fists over her graying hair. “Mommy!”
“I love it when you call me that. Oh sweetheart, it makes me feel so good.” For the sake of your pleasure Natasha ignored the growing wetness between her legs, nuzzling her face against your own while thumbing at your swollen clit. Even such a tender movement made you arch your back. “This pretty pussy is all mine. I can’t wait to play with you further, to turn you into such a cute slut for me to enjoy. We’re going to have so much fun together.” Her fingertips swirled over your entrance, eliciting a husky groan from you. “Just you and mommy, always.”
With enough foreplay bestowed upon you, she eventually inched her fingers inside. There were two, and yet they were enough to stretch you out lovingly. Your walls clung to her as she prodded further in, your cunt clenching around Natasha with each little movement she did.
“You’re so tight, pretty girl. Oh you’ve been waiting so long for me to do this, I know. Ever since the first time you saw me, this is what you’ve wanted. Isn’t that right, puppy?”
Her voice was like a sweet venom making its way into your ears, an orchestra that you drowned with. The drunkenness you carried in you, credit to Natasha, made you sloppily slide your tongue into her mouth as she thrust her fingers deeper and deeper.
The languid manners in which she fingered you were unlike her persona. Natasha took her time getting you to relax before pumping her digits in and out, your juices oozing out and down your inner thighs. She made you feel an arousal you hadn’t ever felt in your life, cries showering the empty room as she kept going.
“You won’t last long,” she laughed, kisses being peppered over your face. “I know, my love, but I’ll make it worth your while.”
For what felt like hours she went on to further entice your upcoming orgasm. With a thumb lazily rubbing itself on your clit, she curled her fingers up in your pussy. All the wetness within you made a mess of the sheets she’d taint with your essence, enjoying the stench of you as she pleased you.
Natasha kissed her way down your body, your nipples being taken into her mouth that she sucked softly, giving affection to each squeezed breast before moving further. She was attentive enough to nuzzle her face against your stomach, smirking when you giggled at the ticklish feeling. As her nostrils took in the smell of your juices and her lips ghosted upon your cunt, the older woman was in heaven.
Swiping her tongue over your pussy, she hummed. “You taste divine, love. Such a delicious little pussy for mommy to have. Hmm, good thing I’m famished.”
Having her between your legs alternating between fingering your hole and licking your clit, at times doing so simultaneously, tightened the knot upon your lower abdomen. Natasha didn’t stop, your cries only motivating her further. She found you to be intoxicating, a drug she had yet to try and was already fully dependent on – the vice she would never let go.
When you came, she was there to hold you in place, only smiling against your pulsating cunt as your orgasm washed over your blissful body. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me – cum for your mommy. I got you, my little one. Mommy won’t ever let go of you.”
It was her words that helped your stamina grow when she drew a second orgasm from you, getting you to shudder against her hungry mouth while your fingers moved with harsh, speedy thrusts. Never had you been fulfilled with such love, much like Natasha who always longed for the submission of a pet much like you.
“You did such a good job, babygirl,” she breathlessly told you. Your eyes were unfocused, hazy as your mind while you stared down at Natasha. She kissed her way up your body, licking your juices off her lips and allowing you to face her breasts that you were so eager for. “I’m really glad I didn’t wait. I don’t think I could’ve gone another day without touching you.” Palming at your tits, she was in awe of your beauty. “I’m really proud of you. You’re already making a mark, honey. Now it’s all about following your training until I can properly show you off.”
That night it was Natasha who once again took control. She didn’t allow you to touch her, not yet at least. Instead she covered her skin with her robe, dragging you towards the bathroom to clean you up. The bath you took made all your fears disappear. With her hands dancing all over your skin, coating you with soap and love, you relaxed against your lover.
She left you to sleep on the playroom’s bed as per usual, the sheets changed before she went to drop a kiss on your forehead. After a husky ‘goodnight, baby,’ she was gone as soon as she came. You tried your hardest, but each waking moment it was much difficult to live without Natasha by your side.
The unspoken air of tension was dissuaded as you snuck into her bedroom that night, clutching Honey tightly against your chest while tip-toeing into her bed. Natasha, who pretended to be asleep, let the ends of her mouth rise at the action.
That was the first of many nights that you secretly slept with her arms safely wrapped around your body – your heart already naked on the line for Natasha to own alongside your mind and body.
Y/N, to Peter: We are not mad. We are just disappointed.
Natasha: No, we are mad.
Y/N: Yes. We are. We are livid. But we are going to let this one slide.
Natasha: No, we’re not!
Y/N: I am not a mind reader, Natasha!
she doesn't think of me | n. romanoff
about me | series masterlist | natasha romanoff masterlist
pairing: professor!natasha romanoff x collegestudent!reader
chapter two | chapter three: midnights like this
chapter summary: your professor is targeting you and neither you or your bestfriend are having it. she however, doesn't seem to care about you at all.
warnings: natasha is mean.
a/n: this was rushed, i'm sorry! should've posted this last night, but i was so busy i just decided to squeeze writing this chapter into my schedule. it's really short too, rest assured, the next one will be better!
you were on natasha romanoff's radar. and you want so badly to get out of it.
"oh i'm sure she'll soften up! mrs. romanoff is nice!" billy insisted, but you carried on basically dragging yourself into yet another dreadful hour with mrs. romanoff.
"it's been three months, billy! i don't know what to do," you threw your arms up and then caressed your face with your hands, wanting so deeply to cry into it.
the two months being mrs. romanoff's favorite student hasn't exactly been the easiest. after handing off a couple of late assignments, which you had stacks and stacks of from her, you were surprised she hadn't pulled some strings to suspend you.
she would very often tear your paper in front of you. she would call you into her office just so you can watch her tear the last 15 hours you spent in pieces before throwing it away. she never lets you off of class without calling you at least 3 times. never leaving out some commentary after you answer that would make you embarrassed to the core. she pointed out your shortcomings in class. she made sure to always always let everyone know what and when you're doing wrong. and after all that humiliation, what aggravates you is how she doesn't, at all, acknowledges your existence outside of class. you would pass her by the halls, you would see her near the gate, never once would she make eye contact, or even look in your direction. she wouldn't even do so much as breath in your direction!
to her, it's nothing.
"do you want me to talk to her?" billy asked. she's been the subject of almost all your conversations with billy. and he has so patiently listen to your every rant about her.
"how would you even," you were hopeless. you would leave, but you're already too far into it. she had humiliated you way too much to back out now. you didn't go through months of torture just to leave. to her, you're not even relevant. you're just another student who couldn't withstand her. leaving would hurt your pride more.
so you straightened your back, and marched like someone truly eager to learn. "i'm sick of her nonsense. i'll show her what i'm made of."
you certainly didn't show her what you were made of when as soon as your name rolled off her tongue with strength and almost anger, you folded. you curved. you balled. whatever one might call it. you caved. you gave in. all sense of even an ounce of bravery was washed away by trembling fear. intimidation. you'd come to learn of that feeling the very first time you met her, it still surprises you how you've yet to get accustomed to it.
you stood up, slowly. here it comes. you know it’s coming. you have a visual bulleted list of everything you could’ve possibly done, everything you have done that she has yet to shame you for. just yesterday, you bumped into her in the hall. literally, bump into her. the moment you felt the impact of her shoulder against yours, you made sure to avoid her eyes at all cost. you walked away like your life depended on it. you weren’t going to be subjected under one of her condescending gazes again which sheer sharpness of will have you begging for her forgiveness in seconds. you didn’t acknowledge her, or that it happened, not out of pride, but out of fear. she was already scary enough, and until yesterday, you hadn’t really done much to piss her off.
before that however... you've done a few. for example, in class a few days ago. you know she saw you. you hadn’t slept in so long that day, you couldn’t keep your eyes open. billy was there to offer you his car to sleep on the moment you got off mrs. romanoff’s class. he fixed the back seat; set up his air bed and everything. that was the best sleep you had in days. the only sleep you had in days. you were surprised mrs. romanoff had yet to give you shit for that though. especially, when you’ve made eye contact with her the moment you woke up.
somewhere last week, you also handed a late assignment. the very first one she hadn’t called you to watch her tear off and throw away. you also have an overdue paper you hadn’t even got the privilege of a free time to start doing. and you’re sure she hated the heels you wore two days ago from the judgmental look she shot your way after getting a glimpse of the maroon stilettos.
mrs. romanoff is like a ticking timebomb. one that could go off over something so obvious yet unforeseen you’d hate yourself for not thinking of. that’s what created your visual bulleted list of everything you had done for her to humiliate you, everything that she might embarrass you for, everything that you can choose from as to why she must hate you that very moment. it helps to have a list. to be able to predict what’s making her mad again. what about you today infuriates her? it’s like a game.
today, you’re guessing one of those three. of course you had done more. some you know, some you hadn’t realized she hates you for doing, some you don’t even realize you did.
she stood up and crossed her arms. you were so far from her; so many people in between. yet the way she stared at you made you feel like it was just the two of you. not in a good way. in fact, in the worst way. it’s like being left alone with a beast.
“you’re failing my class.”
you weren’t in high school anymore. that much was clear when she announced it to the whole class where a high school teacher would never go so far as too doing. but the line between high school and college became a blur when what were a few snickers became a full blown laughter of which mrs. romanoff only basked in. you wouldn’t be surprised be there was some kind of pride in her as the class erupted in laughter over her embarrassing you.
that was very on-brand of her. but it hurt you nonetheless. your heart dropped continuously until you can feel a dragging weight on your chest. to even make it out of the classroom was such a challenge as you could barely carry the weight that pulled at your heart. you held in your tears as you walked down the hall. you needed billy. it was an hour before lunch, billy’s in mr. barton’s class but you texted him nonetheless.
‘sos’, you sent him.
it was barely ten minutes later. by then, you were already sitting on a bench just outside of your campus building when he came running to see you forcing everything in until he was able to sit beside you and pull you to him. “i got you, y/n.” he says as he held your head against the crook of his neck where you just exploded in tears. you cried heavily against his shoulder; the three month worth of pent up frustration over your studies finally breaking free from your system. “let it all out.” he whispers while a hand rubs over your back and the other plays with your hair.
muffled words escape from your lips; complete incoherent. billy pulls you off of him, holding your shoulders and taking a good look at your face; red nose, eyes, and lips, all puffy and plump from crying, snot on your nose, tear stained cheeks, and wet eyes. he hadn’t seen you cry like this since you failed math in junior high.
“okay, now tell me. what’s wrong?”
you sniffled hard before running the back of your hand against your nose. you were looking past his shoulder as tears continue to pour from your eyes. “i failed english…” you cried.
“what?! but you’re an english lit girlie!” he says. “remember? and i’m a math wizard. how can you possibly fail english?!”
that made you cry much harder, pushing through the arms that held your shoulders so you can return to your place with your head against the crook of his neck. crying all the much more. “mrs. romanoff failed me…” you cried, lifting your head slightly so your words doesn’t come muffled. “but she tore off my homework! she refused to accept anything i submit her—"
“okay, that’s it.” billy stood up rather abruptly, holding you by the hand and marching off back to the campus.
you sniffled, trying to clear your sinuses. “what are you doing…?” you ask. he was holding so tightly on your hand, you could barely feel it as he drags you through the hallways and straight into mrs. romanoff’s office.
you weren’t able to stop him—you didn’t even know what he was going to do! and by the time everything was finished processing in your mind, billy had already started yelling at your professor who only watches intently from behind her desk. “how could you fail my friend!” he yells at her.
you were taken aback. you didn’t know what to do. you’re already in here, he already yelled at her, knowing mrs. romanoff, you both would suffer the same consequences as if you would have stopped him.
“goodmorning to you too, mr. maximoff.”
her chin was resting on the back of her hand. she was looking at him so intently, as if she was interested in everything he has to say—as if she’ll hear him out. you were getting the strongest sense of déjà vu. you’ve been here before. you knew how this was going to end. you knew how much this would amuse her. you knew because this happened to you.
“y/n doesn’t deserve that.”
you can hear it in billy’s voice. he was infuriated. he hated her perhaps maybe more than you did. it’s always been this way—the two of you. he’s always been the man who protected you; who shielded you; who fought for you. and you were always there holding his hand as he does so, ready to back him up.
but with mrs. romanoff, against mrs. romanoff, it was different. her eyes were trained on him and him only. she did nothing to acknowledge your presence—you wouldn’t even be too surprised if she hadn’t realized you were here. but from the slightest chance that she might be watching you, from the slightest chance that your hand holding billy’s were caught from her peripheral, you slowly withdrew your hand, and took just the smallest step away from him so your skin doesn’t touch.
you know billy noticed this but he seemed to not have given it much thought. he was in here fighting for you knowing full-well he’s risking his future, and yours, in this university. you holding each other’s hand and being mistaken as a couple is not going to help your case. you deserve to be here. and you don’t deserve what you were given. and billy knows that. the last thing you want is for mrs. romanoff to further disregard your efforts, or any of the very little chance you have of winning this because she thought billy’s only doing this because you’re “his girlfriend”.
“she was the best in our grade!”
“i think you mistake this university for a small-town public school in west view,” she fixed her posture, straightening up when she pushes her chair further into the table and her hands rest on her desk.
“she doesn’t deserve this, and you know that! she worked day and night for your subject,” billy insists.
“i fear for her future if that’s the best her entire day’s work is worth for.”
you shrunk. you slowly hid behind billy though you were aware they both noticed. you wanted to cry. to scream into a pillow. she belittled you. and she did so without even acknowledging you at all, your presence to her was nothing. if you couldn’t see the way you hand was trembling, you would think you were invisible. from the way they were talking about you, to the way they were exchanging arguments as if you weren’t there. the very sole reason they’re even arguing, they almost pretend to not be here at all.
“that’s unfair. maybe you’d see how it’s worth if you’d even take the time to look at what she gives you before throwing it off.”
“why would i even give time for an output worth nothing more than what i throw in my trash can?”
“you are unfair! you give her all these work—,” billy’s voice raised to an extent you’ve never heard of, and even you were almost scared, but of course, mrs. romanoff wasn’t even fazed, if anything, she seemed to be getting bored of this whole thing.
her hooded eyelids dropped halfway, and her eyebrows tightened by the smallest bit. her patience was growing thin. and from the way her jaw clenched, you knew she was over it.
“and you are being disrespectful, mr. maximoff.” she said sternly.
“you’re biased. you humiliate her in class, you embarrass her, you pick on her. i don’t see you doing that to others. at least not to the same extent you do her. you’re wearing her off!”
by then you knew this shouldn’t go any further. he was blatantly disrespecting a professor, who as much as you hate, shouldn’t be disrespected by a student. at least, not to the extent billy was going for.
“and you, come in here accusing me; questioning me, a professor, with absolutely no regard for the inconsistencies and rather meritless of your argument.”
“i demand to see your grading sheet, because i assure you, you are making a mistake.”
mrs. romanoff abruptly stood up, placing both hands on the surface of her desk as she leaned towards it with anger painted across her features. “and i demand!... mr. maximoff,” her voice raised, and something about it, the coldness, the sharpness, the loudness, the entirety of it, almost made you cry. you were scared, your rapid heartbeat was evidence of that. “…that you leave. you have exhausted my patience. and i assure you, you will have no office of mine to barge into, or a university to attend if you further push your luck which i guarantee you is not more than what you’d have when you’re standing on very thin ice.”
you put a hand on his shoulder. he was really pushing it. and mrs. romanoff wasn’t someone who you should be pushing it with. mrs. romanoff follows through. that much is evident as she consistently tore off your paper, without fail, every time you submit it.
“oh i’m sure you wouldn’t love to see me try.”
billy gave into her warning, but more so into you. you tolerated him—this, to a certain extent, especially since he was only fighting for you. but there’s a line, and with mrs. romanoff, it’s not something you should ever dare cross. billy listened to your implied warning too. he always listened to you. so with a scoff, he took your hand and prepared to leave, but as he was approaching the door, you pulled your hand from him to look at mrs. romanoff who, for the first time since you came in, finally was looking at you.
“are you going to continue being like this?” you asked. you weren’t as mean as billy was. you weren’t demanding. you were just sad. hopeless, almost.
“being what, miss y/n?”
“unreasonable.” you whispered but you know she heard you.
“if you see a reason for me not to be, then i wouldn’t.”
“don’t you think about how that might affect my future?” your voice was soft, kind.
“oh, i don’t think about you at all.”
her voice wasn’t. she was cold, almost proud; condescending.
a feeling inside you brewed. something about her eyes. how delicate they are. how enchanting. it couldn’t possibly belong to what a wretched-hearted woman she seems to be. she’s inviting, enticing. something about her pulls you in. intrigues you. now more than ever. now since ever.
you want to break mrs. romanoff. you want to see who she really is. not for revenge, not to hold it against her. simply because you’re curious. you’re aching to see mrs. romanoff—natasha. she couldn’t possibly just be that. mean.
she is not just that.
A Simple Cat Nap
Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
“Hon', if you take any more naps on the couch you're going to mess up your back.”
Natasha's post mission meeting was droning on, Fury's words no longer holding any sense to the redhead. They were instead background noise while her mind ran wild with thoughts of you. It'd been a whole two weeks since she last saw your smiling face, and it was becoming a bit too much for her to bare any longer if she was being honest; retirement was imminent.
The moment Fury shut off the prompter the woman was already to her feet, and that next second she was out the door without so much as a goodbye to the director or team she led. Nothing could keep her from hopping onto her bike and racing off to your cabin in the woods. A cozy little space the two of you purchased earlier in the year after becoming newlyweds.
On her way home she'd stopped to grab a bag of takeout, knowing it is likely you hadn't been eating much without her there to cook for you, and there was no way she was cooking tonight. Not when she plans to hand feed you the greasiest grub as she cuddles you incredibly close to her while you watch the absolute brain rot that is reality TV together.
Natasha’s body buzzes at the prospect of seeing you when the secluded cabin fills her vision, and she is pleasantly surprised to find the place in working order upon entering. The usual mess of yours, made in petty retaliation for your lover’s absence is seemingly nonexistent. She doesn’t wish to dwell on the good news, instead she sets off throughout the space to hopefully find you, settling her belongings aside, along with the bag of food down on the kitchen counter. The redhead downs a glass of water in an attempt to satiate her sudden thirst, and it’s when she places her cup on the counter that she fortunately hears you.
The distinct sound of your soft snores made their way into the kitchen from what Natasha perceives to be the living room; your favorite place to lounge around and consequently to pass out. The Avenger tiptoes into the room, a smile gracing her face at the sheer sight of you. Flat on your back she cringes upon observing the horrible angle at which your neck is bent, along with the way that your arm awkwardly dangles off the couch with a remote in hand. The other arm was draped over your eyes, and your mouth was wide open, drool dried to the corners of your lips, and she wonders who’d been on this last mission, because you were clearly exhausted.
Even in your state you look adorable as can be, and as she approaches she acknowledges the black feline peacefully sleeping on your chest. Liho senses her presence, lifting his head from your chest he softly glares in her direction., “You were mine first.,” she quietly reminds the cat, but not quietly enough because you stir, and before she could try to remedy it your arm slid from your face, and your crusted eyes met with hers as she apologetically stared at you, but to her hearts content you tiredly smiled up at her causing her to mirror the sentiment.
She then watched in amusement when your body stretched out, mirroring that of Liho’s as he’d jumped up onto the back of the couch., "Hon', if you take any more naps on the couch you're going to mess up your back.,” she lovingly voices her concerns upon hearing the way that your body crackles like a bunch of glow sticks being activated at once., “Natty, this couch is the premier destination for a solid nap, you’re just delusional.,” she rolled her eyes at your asinine response, but she let it go for the sake of keeping the peace.
“If you say so detka.,” she extended her hand to you to aide you in sitting up, knowing very well that your body is likely as stiff as a rock, she had learned this the hard way after the one and only time she ever napped on this very couch., “I do say so.,” you said with a pouting face, and Natasha moved quickly to kiss it away which instantly brought a smile to your face, and a warmth bloomed within the both of your chests at that oh so familiar touch., “Welcome home.,” you whispered against her supple lips, and before she could say much of anything Natasha was squealing as your arms suddenly wrapped around her waist, pulling her into your lap, and slamming your lips to hers for a deeper kiss.
Natasha was quick to shift around until she was straddling your lap, her lips never once leaving yours as you partook in a steamy make out session that left the both of you rather breathless by the time you were pulling apart., “I really missed you Natty.,” Natasha gently leaned her forehead to yours, it was a level of intimacy that always brought her deep comfort, and she was desperately feening for some with the conversation she was about to initiate.
“Let’s have a baby.,” she blurted, her heart hammering in her chest when you stiffened., “Honey, we’ve talked about this.,” you went to negate her sentiment, but you stopped when she violently shook her head., “Detka, I’m ready. Fury received an email about an hour ago with my resignation attached, because I can’t keep living a life I’ve clearly outgrown, one that takes me away from you far too often, and holds me back from the future I deserve.”
Your arms wrapped around her waist even tighter as excitement built up within you, and she was squealing once more when you stood up and spun her around., “Natty, you’re being serious?,” she chuckled out a soft yes, and held onto you while you continued to jump about. Hearing her say something as simple as ‘the future I deserve,’ left you feeling hopeful. She’d always struggled with the concept, it took you so many years just to get a date with the woman; to know now that she’s actually come this far makes you feel immense pride.
“Is this a yes?,” she finally seeks clarity so you gently lower her to the ground and cup her cheeks to pull her in for an excited kiss., “Natty, it’s a resounding hell yeah, we could even get started right now if you wanted.,” she chuckled at your enticing innuendo., “Detka, we have all the time in the world so how about you pull up Real Housewives of whatever city, and I’ll go reheat our dinner—sound good?”
Natasha threw the Chinese takeout into the microwave, and while the food was heating up she cracked open a couple beers to celebrate. Returning as quickly as she could she found you waiting on the couch with an abundance of plush blankets surrounding you, and the way you smiled at her let her know that with her sudden retirement she’d be able to have moments like this with you all the time, and all her residual guilt melted away at the thought.
After about three episodes Natasha felt your head drop to her shoulder, and so she laid herself down against your favored couch, and cuddled you close like she’d been craving to do. Then by the time episode four was ending she heard your soft snores, which were followed by a sleeping you thrashing until you were facing your lover with her arms tightly around you. With a defeated sigh Natasha figured out that you’d both be sleeping on the couch tonight., “Oh, the things we do for love.,” she grumbled to the cat who now lay over both of your hips., “A sore back sure is worth it though with a view like this.,” she softly stated while shamelessly ogling your sleeping features, her lips gentle as they lay a sweet kiss to your forehead, then again to your pouting lips.
“Goodnight detka.,” she yawned., “Maybe this time next year we’ll have a mini you to chase.,” she shuffled slightly for comfort., “and rest assured that we’ll definitely have a new couch.”
❤️ Kaitlyn. 🥰
Natasha: my lover will be someone tough, an unbreakable person with the strength of ten Thors
Y/N, steps on a rolly polly and sobs uncontrollably: I’m so sorry!
Natasha: I want them! That’s my soulmate!
Yelena: you can still settle for just owning big dog. Like me.
GP!Natasha Romanoff x Reader
18+ only, read at your own risk
Requested by anon: just an idea for a request: pegging GP natasha
Natasha's the first one to make the suggestion, and you think it's adorable how shy she is asking if you can take her on her knees. She’s curious what it would be like, and you’re excited to try it with her.
After buying an appropriately sized toy (you don’t want to start too big) and plenty of lube, you have Natasha propped up on all fours on the bed. You massage her thighs and butt as you tentatively move your hips forward to poke the toy against her hole.
You wait for her consent to push forward until just the head of the toy enters her. Natasha tenses, and your hand moves from her hip to her cock, stroking her gently until she relaxes again. You sink into her another inch, and she whines at the stretch, so you pause.
“More,” she says, and you keep going.
You swear her cock gets harder in your hand as you fill her ass. Natasha moans when your hips touch her butt, and you wait a few seconds for her to adjust before you start moving in short, jerky thrusts. You’re unfamiliar with this motion and you want to make sure you’re not hurting her, but based on the noises she’s making, you’re doing a good job.
“Y/N, Y/N,” she whimpers, her hips moving back and forth, alternating between the pleasure radiating from her cock and her ass.
“Almost there, baby?” you ask, noticing how limp she goes when your strap bumps against the sensitive spot inside of her.
“Yes,” she pants, dropping her head as she allows you to take control of her body and bring her to the most amazing orgasm she’s ever experienced. Your hips move faster, filling her to the brim, as your hand strokes her straining cock.
She cums without warning, spraying her own stomach and chest with her seed. Her back arches as you slam into her one final time, staying in place until her cum drips off your own hand.
“That felt so good,” Natasha admits when she has enough air to speak again. “Although next time, I’d love it if you filled me with cum...”
Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content.
Natasha: I don't care!
Wanda: But you do...
Natasha: You are wrong cause I don't. I like my life the way it is.
Y/n: *accidentally trips on own feet*
Natasha: ARE YOU OKAY? DO YOU NEED HELP? FUCKING CALL THE AMBULANCE NOW! IT'S OKAY, I'M HERE! COME BREATHE BREATHE! DAMMIT WHERE'S THE DOCTOR???
The New Maid
pairing | dom!natasha x sub!reader
summary | After being hired as a maid under Natasha Romanoff's care, your suspicions on her intentions with you soon grow weary. With her request to wear a revealing uniform and her elongated stares, it's not long before you can submit to more than just your attraction for her.
warnings (18+) | smut, dom/sub, dark-ish nat, praise kink, possessiveness, rough sex, fingering, mommy kink, bondage, dirty talk, degradation, spitting, slight spanking, multiple orgasms, oral sex, vibrators, mommy nat (drooling), short skirts, fucks you over her desk tbh
a/n | hi this has already been published on other platforms for a whileeeee but i’m trying to cross upload my work on here cause i wanna write more. this was also my first time writing anything ever (let alone smut) so enjoy :)) any feedback is appreciated!!
word count | 6.3k
warning! (18+): language and sexual content. please refer to tags before reading.
Working under Natasha Romanoff had been a dream. From the very generous pay to the no expenses of living in her lavish mansion, it baffles you how lucky you were to get this job. It started off as a one-time summer thing, a side hustle to earn some extra money before your sophomore year as a college student. But once you learned how well a live-in maid gets paid, you realized there were far too many benefits of pursuing the job for more than just one summer.
Training as a maid was quite simple as well, the owners would usually have articulated plans or certain schedules you follow throughout the day. However, Natasha Romanoff wasn't as easy, she had you by her side practically every second of the day. You're not exactly sure what her job specifically entails, but it must pay well for her to be able to afford such an enormous house. You're glad for the digital map of structure and layout otherwise you'd get lost just looking for the bathroom, which still occurred quite a lot. You do, however, know it has something to do with Stark Industries. When you've had to deliver messages or meals to her grand office, you've overhead her conversations with Tony Stark. Although, it sounded much more like she was talking to a friend than a business call, it was none of your business. She seemed to be a very powerful woman, and you'd hate to cross her, but so far, she's been nothing but more than accommodating.
It's only been a week, but you've wondered if she has other employees. So far, the only people you've seen, besides Natasha, is the chef, pool boy, gardener, and the silent security guards at every gate. You've yet to meet other maids or butlers for that matter but realized Natasha Romanoff is just one person. It'd be quite excessive to have multiple live-in maids. It just felt quite lonely to think about Natasha all alone in such a huge place.
Aside from the very small and revealing, cliche maid outfit she requested you wear the night you arrived, you figured Natasha was just a traditional woman and had no complaints. Especially none with spending almost every hour attending to Natasha Romanoff's needs. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt for her, but in all honesty, who could? She was an undeniably gorgeous woman. The long touches and stares she sent you at times didn't help either. You'd feel her eyes burn into you as you served drinks or prepared her dinner. The outfit she provided failed to hide the blush in your cheeks at every pet name she threw your way. Especially when she would say goodbye and leave a longing touch on your arm or stare at you too long. Every time you were with her things became much harder to focus on. But this job was the highest-paying gig you’ve ever had, so you’d have to suck it up and ignore the little (huge) crush until the end of summer.
Waking up and eyeing the maid uniform hung above your closet, you prepared yourself for your day. You'd assumed the outfit had probably been tailored for the last maid, who may have been (extremely) smaller than you. But with you having to do work around such a colossal property, it required you to move around a lot. So, when you had to practically walk everywhere and bend over every surface to reach the things, you would feel the rise in your skirt and always missed the smirk that rose to Natasha's lips when she was around you.
For the schedule today, you would help her prepare for an on-call business transaction. She asked you have her breakfast served in bed and prepare her outfit and office for her before noon. Simple enough. So, with a final brush of an invisible wrinkle on your top, you hurried along to serve Natasha her meal.
Knocking on the door three times with a tray of caviar buttered croissants, lobster scrambled eggs, and cinnamon brioche french toast in your arms, you opened it to find Natasha plaid in nothing but a black silk robe. Your eyes couldn't help but fall to her chest, where it was barely covered by the thin fabric, finding her cleavage peeking out tauntingly. Her red locks were barely tussled, you'd never be able to guess she had just gotten out of bed.
"Good morning, Ms. Romanoff. Here's your breakfast." You said as you placed the tray onto her bed and above her, your face dangerously close to her chest before you straightened yourself up by her beside.
"Mmm, good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?" She asked, a smile playing at her lips at the sight of you as she faintly rubbed her eyes.
With your hands rested behind your back and a thump in your heartbeat at the use of the pet name, you replied, "Yes, splendidly, miss, thank you. Is breakfast to your liking?"
She groaned at the use of your "Miss and Missus," the first day you arrived she insisted that you use her first name; Natasha. She definitely wished for the use of a different name on your lips, but she couldn’t scare you away just yet. Using her forename never felt polite to you, and you're not sure you would be able handle letting her name roll off your tongue that easily when you could barely manage being in her presence. She gave up soon, but it's not like she didn't enjoy hearing you call her Ms. Romanoff, either. The sound of her name on your lips made her stomach twist with desire.
Your outfit was no mistake, either, she had of course received your profile and knew your measurements, she just couldn't resist seeing you in such a thing. Natasha was a woman that paid attention to detail. Usually, she'd never even have a live-in maid, or a maid at all for that matter. She'd probably just get Tony to whip up some robot to do all her biddings, but she wasn't that shallow. After Steve had teased her about living all alone in such a large home, she figured she just needed a little more human interaction in her home life. Eventually she found a housekeeping service. Intentionally, she had only wanted to find a maid or butler that would come in during the weekdays, but after crossing your profile and seeing your picture. She couldn't help herself. She found you irresistible and absolutely perfect. Even more when you met her, and she fell in love with your innocence, shy blushes, polite manner, and cute smiles. She felt like a teen all over again.
She knew she had to have you.
She raised her glare to find you obediently awaiting her answer. She smiled to herself, "Yes, sweetheart, it's divine. Tell Jeffrey I send my compliments. Have you eaten, my love?"
The painted pink on your checks only grew stronger with her constant use of pet names. Natasha knew this just as well, she loved seeing you blush and even more when she knew she was the reason why. "No, not yet miss. I was planning on picking up something on the way to prepare your office."
"That's nonsense, Jeffrey prepares an amazing breakfast every day. You've been here a week, honey, make yourself comfortable. It's practically your home, too." Your head dropped slightly, nodding at her reprimanding request.
“Yes, Ms. Romanoff,” before you could make your exit, she grabbed your wrist and tugged you into her bed, catching you in surprise. "While you're here, you might as well eat, darling."
It sounded more like a command, but you wouldn't deny her either way, knowing you were always hopelessly compliant to her demands. That's what made Natasha so set on you, not only were you a wonderful sight to see, your obedience is what made her sure you were perfect for her, even after only a week. No one had this effect on her as much as you did. She planned to make you hers, she just wasn’t sure how much longer she could wait.
You could barely move a muscle on the large black silk comforter of her bed, awaiting her next command and watching as her hands moved to slice the French toast and raise the fork to your mouth. You eyed her, hesitantly opening your mouth as she fed you.
"Good girl," she hummed satisfied, her eyes following your every move.
You nearly choked at her words, feeling your heart beat harder against your chest and heat rise to your cheeks. After a few more bites and her gazes in between, your heart paced even faster at her next move. "Stay still, honey, you have something righttt there." She said as her hand rose to grasp your face, her thumb moving to your bottom lip as she wiped away the powdered sugar that stained your mouth. She moved the same thumb to her own mouth and licked the residue slowly, glossy green eyes never leaving yours. You couldn't do much but stare starstruck at her lips in front of your face, agonizingly close as she licked them teasingly. The action alone made your stomach shudder sensually and pool heat to your center.
You composed yourself and mumbled a timid, "thank you." Before rising to your feet and picking up her tray to place onto a table to distract yourself from the wetness growing between your legs. "I'll get started on your outfit. Does it need pressing?" You said as you returned to her side. Natasha let out a small chuckle at her effect on you.
"Yes, I believe so. It's hung in my closet; you can do whatever you see fit. I trust your eye for clothing." She acknowledged with wink as she moved to grab her reading glasses and a book from her nightstand.
You nodded, moving to her walk-in closet and setting your eyes on her tailored, black suit. You planned on pressing it in the station of the laundry room before Natasha called out to you just as you were leaving, suit in hand.
"Do it in here, I want to see you." She said, signaling you to use the table that stood within her large bedroom. You couldn't help the thoughts running in your head, but only one remaining prominent; she wants to see you.
You swallowed a gulp and nodded compliantly, turning your back to her as you began pressing her suit. Natasha smiled to herself, enjoying the view in front of her as she occupied her mind of everything she would do once she got her hands on you. It was hard enough restraining herself from pouncing on you any second of the day, but with each movement your skirt rose ever so slightly, giving Natasha a perfect view of your white lace panties and having her wishing she could rip them right off. She was practically drooling at the sight.
Once you were done, you moved to hang it in her closet where it laid before. You returned to her side before clasping your hands behind your back and asking, "I've finished, Ms. Romanoff. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
She took a moment to drink you in, standing obediently in front of you in your tight outfit. Your breasts pushing against the fabric and legs covered in white stockings. Before eyeing you up and down, she hummed to herself, "There are lots of things you can do for me, sweetheart. But for now, everything is fine, thank you."
Your eyes widened slightly at her remark, were you hearing things? You weren't sure how much longer you would be able to handle this woman and her seductive teasing. But you blamed it all on your attraction for her, declaring you were just making up things in your head. You nodded and made your way to her grand door, feeling eyes glued to your body as you made your exit.
At noon exactly, you had already finished preparing Natasha's office for her business meeting, you were tidying her bookshelf when you heard the door open. Twisting your head to find her in the same suit you had pressed earlier today. It hugged her body perfectly, but you didn't have time to admire any further as you clasped your hands together to greet her. "Good afternoon, Ms. Romanoff. Your office is ready. Let me know if you need anything." You bowed slightly and continued to the door before she grabbed your arm as you attempted to brush past her. Your bodies were excruciatingly close, you hoped she couldn't hear your heart practically pounding out your chest.
"Stay, dove. You won't be a bother, just continue your work. If you've finished, you're free to leave. But I'd much rather you stay." She blew into your ear, her grip never loosening from your arm as you stood tense at her side.
"I-uh yes, Ms. Romanoff." She beamed at your answer, nodding and reluctantly letting you go. You already missed the feeling of her skin on yours. She continued to make her way behind her desk, sitting in her extravagant chair that made her look ten times more powerful. She began working on her computer, typing away and eyeing you every so often as she continued to work. It wasn't soon before her meeting began, you were thrilled to see her in action. Not knowing exactly what her job was, you were glad to at least gather some intel on what she did for a living. You barely understood the terminology or language they had been using throughout the meeting, you really wished you had taken Russian instead Spanish. You’re not sure if it would’ve mattered anyway because the majority of the time you were distracted by how hot Natasha was, exerting her power and getting fueled up when something didn't go her way, spitting out what you assumed were Russian curse words. You couldn't ignore the same pool of wetness that grew between your legs as you watched her intently. You didn't mind staying her office, sitting patiently in the seat across from her while reading a book you picked from her office library. Natasha most definitely didn't mind either, being able to watch your every move as she worked, she loved every second.
Once her meeting had finished you assumed she would dismiss you, so you rose to your feet as soon as she did. But she only moved to unbutton her blazer, releasing it and letting it drop down her arms with a frustrated sigh. The sight alone was probably the most attractive thing you’ve ever witnessed. Your eyes followed her as she moved to her serving cart and poured herself a glass of scotch, taking a sip with one hand before walking back to her previous spot. She stood across from you, eyeing you amusingly with one hand in her pocket while the other held her drink.
"Is there anything I can do for you, Ms. Romanoff?" You questioned hesitantly, noticing her irritation from the meeting and offering aid. At that remark, it seemed any residual anger from the businesswoman had disappeared and been replaced with lust.
"Yes, actually." She said, a smirk tugging at her mouth ever so slightly. You nodded eagerly, urging her to continue. "Come and kneel for me, sweetheart." You stood in shock for a moment, mentally pinching yourself to see if you'd heard her correctly. “Excuse me?”
When she gave you a look and reiterated it with a, “You heard me, pretty girl.” It was as if your body was on autopilot as your mind ignored the shock of her words and you nervously moved onto the space in front of her. Dropping to your knees compliantly and awaiting silently for her next direction, looking up to her face, doe-eyed and sweet.
She bit her lip as her hand rose to your face, her fingers sliding underneath your chin as her thumb swiped across your bottom lip once again. However, unlike this morning, her thumb pushed further into your mouth, behind your teeth and reaching your tongue. She took a moment to admire you, legs tucked underneath you as your hands rested in your lap pleasantly with her finger in your mouth. "You look so pretty like this, kotenok."
You squirmed on the floor underneath you, trying to ignore the soaked panties you had stained from being with Natasha all day. Wanting to please her, you wrapped your lips around her thumb, your cheeks hollowing around her while your eyes never left her hungry gaze.
Her eyes practically rolled to the back of her head. "Such a good girl. Skazhi mne krasivaya devushka (tell me, pretty girl), what do you want." She requested; her thumb coated in your saliva as she moved it from your mouth to let you answer.
"I- you. I-I want you."
"That's no way to ask, little girl. Where are your manners?"
"Sorry, Ms. Romanoff."
"Wrong. Try again. Tell mommy what you want. Correctly, this time." She released as her grip tightened around your jaw.
"I-I want you, mommy. Please."
She groaned at your words, grinning slyly as her hand continued to caress your face.
She had you right where she wanted you.
"What a good little girl you are. Come sit on mommy's lap, sweetheart." She let out as she dropped to her chair and tapped her right knee twice, thighs spread to leave room for you in between her legs.
Like the obedient girl you were, you rose to your feet, taking only a few steps towards the woman in front of you with insatiable hunger. As you took your place on her lap, your skirt flew up, leaving nothing but your bare bottom in lace panties on Natasha's thigh. Her hand immediately moved to your thigh, rubbing slowly as it made its way up and down. You whimpered in frustration, wanting to feel her hands all over your body. Eventually she reached your clothed heat, stroking painfully slow over your drenched panties. You tried not to squirm under her touch, wanting to push yourself further onto her fingers but her hand firmly wrapped around your waist kept you in place.
She noticed your impatience, chuckling softly before swiping her fingers harder against your core. You moaned at the feeling, pushing your hip into her hand, desperate for her touch.
"Greedy slut, aren't you?" You couldn't answer, your mind only focusing on grinding your hips against her now spread-out palm.
But soon you felt a stinging slap against your thigh, dangerously close to your heat, you jumped in surprise and whined at the loss of her hand against you. "Answer me."
"Yes, mommy, only for you. Please, I want you so bad."
You didn't have time to concentrate or dwell on the loss as she began stroking your bare thigh again, spreading your legs firmly and pushing her fingers back to rub circles against your cunt. Her mouth soon attached itself to your ear as your mouth was left open at the sensation, letting out labored breaths.
She slid her tongue around your lobe and into your ear, "You have no idea what you do to me, kotenok. Walking around in that little outfit, I've wanted to fuck you senseless since the day you walked in here."
Your legs closed in reflex, feeling the undeniable drench between your legs. But Natasha only growled against your ear, moving her leg to wrap around your ankle, keeping your bottom strapped against her.
"Is that what you want, pretty girl. You want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk?" She teased across your cheek, peppering wet kisses along your jaw and to your lips, leaving her centimeters away from your mouth. You knew better to answer this time, closing your eyes from sensation of her palm rubbing against you.
"Yes, mommy. I want you inside of me, please, I need you so bad." You whined against her and moaned once she moved your panties to the side and slid her fingers through your juices.
"Oh baby, you're soaked. My good little girl, all wet for me, huh." She continued, looking up to your flustered face as you writhed on top of her.
Before continuing her movements, she paused, "Say red if you want to stop, sweetheart, I won't be mad. Yellow if you want to slow down and green for go. Understood?"
You nodded before realizing she wanted a verbal response. "Yes, mommy."
"Good, printsessa," she smiled before shoving her fingers into your heat, muffling your moan with her mouth and she connected your lips into a heated kiss.
You could barely focus on kissing her back with the way her fingers were deepening inside you. You so desperately wanted to keep up, and you loved the feeling of her plush red lips on yours. The way she tasted only made you crave more; cherry and scotch, it was as addicting as it was sexy. She moved with incredible expertise, knowing how to get you breathless with a lick of her tongue against yours. You could feel her smirk against your mouth when you struggled to keep up with her hungry kisses, instead letting out breathy moans into her mouth. Natasha continued exploring your mouth, growing wetter at the sight of the strings of your mixed saliva connecting your mouths.
She continued her thrusts, adding another finger as her thumb rubbed against your clit, only causing more sounds to escape your mouth. Just as you felt yourself clench around her fingers and tighten your fists as your hips rode against her, she pulled them out, eliciting another whine at the loss. Releasing her hand drenched in your juices and sliding it into your mouth. You were forced to open wide as she commanded.
"Shut up and suck," you did exactly that, running your tongue through her manicured digits and tasting yourself around her. You loved the way her eyes were devouring you, as if she was about to rip you apart on the spot.
She moved to grab your wrist, moving your hand to let you feel her packing through the crotch of her pants as you began stroking her through the fabric. Your thighs clenching at the thought of how big it was. "You want my cock, printsessa, huh? Wanna get it all nice and wet for your pussy?"
You didn't waste a second to respond, desperately letting out a "Yes, mommy, please."
She grinned at your eagerness, motioning her head to the floor in front of her again and saying, "On your knees, krasivaya devushka." You obeyed, dropping to the carpet beneath you once again and placing your hands neatly flat onto your lap.
She watched you like a hawk before rising to her feet, towering over you before unbuckling her belt in front of your face. She pulled the belt from its loops and circled to your back, pulling your arms from in front of you and locking them together in her belt against your back. The position only brought your breasts up further against your tight outfit, displaying them in front of your body. Natasha moved in front of you once again, enjoying the sight but still insatiably wanting more.
"Color, my love."
She smiled before kissing your cheek. After a pause she moved her hand to grab her drink once again, taking a sip before deliberately extending her arm out and pouring it into your cleavage, feeling the cold liquid roll through your body and onto your stomach as your mouth drew out a gasp.
"Oh my, I'm so clumsy, dove. Let mommy help you with that." Natasha feigned with faux innocence as she bent her body down to your level, eyeing your shiny chest and immediately ripping apart the blouse effortlessly with both of her hands. It left you in your matching white lace bra, presenting your breasts perfectly into Natasha's view. She groaned, moving her two hands to grope them above the fabric. You could only watch, immobile with your hands tied behind your back as she unclipped your bra and let it fall down your arms. Your heart raced against your chest as she moved to the drink once again, dropping the cold liquid all over your bare chest as inhaled sharply, feeling the cold sensation run down your body. Natasha only stared further, wanting this picture of you to last in her mind forever. She opted for the next best thing, reaching for her phone on the desk and angling it to get you into view. She snapped a photo of you, knowing she would be using it for later purposes and hoped she would have enough for an album soon, she would make sure of it. She couldn't help herself and soon enough, began sliding her tongue up against your stomach and around your breasts, palming the opposite one and pinching around your nipples. She sucked each of them, humming at the taste of scotch tainting your skin as your arousal grew as you watched her worship you.
After enough teasing, she moved to drop her pants in front of you, revealing the large red strap on teasing your face. She shoved two fingers into your mouth again, coating them in your saliva before she gripped your cheeks open and tilted your face up to her. "Swallow." She directed as she leaned down to drop a ball of her saliva into your mouth before kissing it. She hummed against your face and continued to stand up straight in front of you, pushing the strap into your face.
"Good girl, and you know what good girls get?"
You shook your head, awaiting her response before she continued and began playing with your nipples, "they get to suck on Mommy's cock, you want that, baby, don't you?"
"Yes, mommy, please." You whimpered from underneath her, fighting the urge to rub your heat against the floor.
She pinched down extra hard on your breasts, tugging at the tip and taking the opportunity to shove herself down your throat when you opened it to moan. You internally thanked yourself for your lack of a gag reflex, adjusting to her size quickly as you let her continue. She picked up her pace, both her hands traveling to tug onto your hair and keep you firmly thrusting back and forth on her appendage. Your cheeks hollowed against the toy, swallowing whole to please her.
"That's right, baby, sucking my cock like a good slut. You're such a pretty girl, aren't you, my pretty little girl." Natasha moaned out between her rough thrusts.
Soon she released you, a string of your saliva connecting to tip of her cock and tears brimming your eyes when she pulled your hair back to move your mouth off of her. "What a mess you are. I bet that pussy's just as much of a mess, huh? Why don't we check. Stand up, slut."
You gathered your breath and brought yourself to feet, struggling slightly as your thighs rubbed together and your hands still remained tied behind your back. Natasha smirked at your appearance, chest open at her mercy and plaid in a skirt with suspenders connected to your white stockings.
You were soaked, you knew it, too. You could feel your wetness roll down your thigh and feel it press against your panties. You'd do anything to relieve yourself, but you were completely at Natasha's will.
"Oh, I'll never get tired of this. Maybe I'll make you walk around the house like this. Put on some panties with a vibrator in it and watch you tremble while you do your chores. You'd like that wouldn't you, pretty girl." She teased, her hands caressing your backside before delivering a smack to your ass. You jumped in surprise, squealing before answering her. "Mmph! Mhm! Anything to please you, mommy."
She groaned into your ear, feeling her body ghost over your back as her hands massaged your bottom. After moving to face you once again, her hands never resisting the chance to grope your boobs, she moved her hand down your core. Rubbing the fabric against your cunt as her palm made contact with your clit, making you jerk forward and whimper in pleasure. She released her hand from you, removing your skirt and moving to slide her hand down your stomach and to the top of your panties. She followed the pattern of the lace before hooking her fingers and dropping them to the floor. You stepped out of them and felt yourself being pushed down onto the desk, bending over and wondering when she had cleared it for you. You turned your head to the side, looking down and noticing the mess of papers on the floor from cleaning off her desk. You wondered if you would still be responsible for cleaning it.
Her nails pressed into the curve of your back, pushing you down against the cold wooden desk. Her hands found her way back to your bare bottom, sliding down to smack it once again. You screamed in surprise, knowing it had been harder than the last.
"If you can't keep that pretty little mouth of yours closed, I'm gonna have to do something about it." She vocalized above you.
"I'm sorry, mommy, I'll be good."
"You will be, princess. Now, look at what we have here, such a pretty little pussy. Can't wait to bury myself inside you, baby. Gonna fuck you like the whore you are." Natasha groaned at the thought, enjoying the whimpering mess you were bent over her desk. She dropped to her knees behind you, running her tongue up your thigh and following the trail of your slick until she reached the spot you needed most.
You let out a sob in relief, moving back to grind against her tongue and the way it pressed flat against your heat. She continued her movements, teasing your folds before shoving her tongue inside of you. Once she began to play with your clit, you screamed in pleasure, but soon whined once she retracted her mouth. It wasn't soon before she appeared in front of your eyes with your white lace panties in hand.
"I told you to be quiet, slut. Now mommy's gonna have to do something about that." She scolded before rolling your drenched panties into a ball and into your mouth, gagging you. She caressed your face gently as she smiled down at you, brushing loose strands of hair from your face before moving behind you once again. She pulled your hair, lifting your body flush against hers. "Now, kroshka, I'm gonna play with your pretty little pussy and if you can be a good girl, I'll let you come. But if you can't keep those panties in your mouth, I'll be punishing you tonight. Color."
"Green." You let out, muffled by the fabric occupying your mouth. She flipped your body to face her, using her muscled arms to lift your hips onto her desk and manhandling you. She forced your legs apart, letting cool air hit your bare bottom and drop your wetness onto her desk. Natasha loved the sight of your cunt glistening in front of her. You placed your palms on the surface behind you to sturdy yourself, but once your eyes widened at the vibrator Natasha had in her hand, you weren't sure you'd be able to hold yourself together. She laughed at your reaction, moving her hands to your breasts again and stroking over your nipples.
Catching you off guard, she immediately pressed the vibrator down to your core, buzzing against you and having you scream in pleasure against your gag. She immediately began rubbing it through your folds, teasing you and ignoring the only spot you truly desired. You wailed against her, pushing yourself further onto the machine before she slapped your thigh.
"Naughty girl, I'm the only one who gets to fuck you. Stay still, or your wrists won't be the only thing that's tied." She ordered, pressing further against your cunt and clutching at your nipples.
She took mercy on you, moving the vibrator onto your clit and enjoying your reaction as you moaned in pleasure on top of her. Your head was thrown back, and your eyes rolled to back of your head once she began fucking you with two fingers. You could hear the obscene noises coming from your core as she thrusted into you, even louder were the groans and whimpers escaping your throat, only to be muffled by the gag.
"You hear that? You're so wet against my fingers, can't imagine how you're gonna sound taking my cock, slut." She continued to curl her fingers against you, moving the vibrator against your clit painfully. You could feel yourself reaching the edge, bucking your hips into her movements and whining against the device.
"You wanna cum, pretty girl?" You nodded frantically above her, practically riding her fingers as the sensation on your heat grew stronger.
"Cum all over my fingers. Now." She demanded, adding a third finger. You did just that, biting down on your gag before becoming a whining mess. Covered in your own slick as the sensation washed over you while Natasha kept her pace. Your thighs were trembling on top of the desk when you let out a final cry, collapsing against her.
She halted her movements and grazed her hand over your face as she pulled your panties out of your mouth. Sweat was trembling down your body as she began kissing your face. You struggled to keep your eyes open to watch her suck each of the fingers she had fucked you with. You could taste yourself on her tongue as she connected your mouths, dominating you in record time. Your breath hitched when her hands and lips began to roam all over your body. Tweaking with your nipples in one hand while she sucked the other.
Soon the toy between her legs found its way between your folds, sliding itself against your sensitive cunt and becoming coated in your cum. It wasn't long before you were dripping again, despite barely coming down from your orgasm.
"Is my printsessa ready for my cock?" She taunted, continuing to grind her hips into your center. You gasped as the toy slid across your clit, attempting to thrash away from the feeling but Natasha's hand on your leg kept you still as she released a dark chuckle.
You gathered your thoughts, responding to her before you received punishment. "Yes, mommy. Please."
"Aw, my pretty girl can do better than that. Beg me, slut."
You writhed on top of her, letting the moans fall effortlessly from your throat as you rolled your hips on her length. Natasha noticed you getting lost in enjoyment before she moved her cock away from you and slapped it against your cunt. "Answer me."
You struggled to get your words out, growing frustrated you shouted, "P-Please, fuck me! Need you inside of me, I'll be a good girl. Please just fuck me, mommy! Use me!"
She grinned, beaming at your desperation and wasted no time before lining her tip and inserting herself into your core. The moan you let out was the loudest yet, your head was thrown back in pleasure and mouth left open as she plunged herself further into you.
"Oh my- fuck. Nat, you're so big."
Her head snapped up to your face, you hadn't noticed your slip-up but once she gave you no warning and slammed her entire length into your pussy, you could only scream in satisfaction. Natasha roughly picked your body up from the desk, twisting you and shoving your head down to bend over once again. Her cock never escaping your pussy, she began relentlessly thrusting into you, her hands reaching in front of her to grab your hair.
"That's not my name, naughty girl." She scowled, her hand coming down to smack your bottom repeatedly while you flailed beneath her.
"S-sorry, mommy! Please, harder, you feel so good." You cried between her thrusts. You didn't think it was possible for Natasha to quicken her pace, but she began pushing in and out of you rapidly, the only sounds filling the room were her grunts, the embarrassing squelch of your pussy, and sound of her skin flapping against yours when she bottomed out at each thrust.
"Such a dirty girl, taking mommy's cock so well. This pussy was made for me, wasn't it, baby." She moaned on top of you, pulling your hair to bring your back flush against her body. Her hand moved to your bare stomach, gliding to clutch your breasts and pull at your nipples. You let your head fall back onto her shoulder, you could feel your knees trembling from beneath you. If it weren't for Natasha's sharp thrusts and hands holding your body, you're not sure you would be able to stand on your own.
Once her fingers found its way to your sensitive clit you couldn't take it anymore, between her rubbing circles on your clit and her relentless force on your cunt you felt yourself helplessly clenching and squirming around the toy.
"P-Please, mommy, can I c-come." You cried, your voice wavering between her movements.
"Come, baby, be a good girl for mommy." Natasha began focusing on pleasuring you, playing with your clit and reaching to tug on your nipples while she fucked you into your orgasm. Her hips continued ramming into you as your rode out your high, letting out noises you didn't know you were capable of making and screaming her name in a loud moan.
You slumped against her body, breathless and covered in cum, sweat, and alcohol. You turned your head to face Natasha tirelessly, she smiled against you and placed a kiss to your lips.
"My good little girl, you did so well, detka." You hummed at her praise, enjoying the feeling of her fingertips caressing your body while her strap was still buried inside you.
"Come on, baby, let's get you cleaned up."
based on this concept I had literally 4 days ago, endings a bit cheesy imo, but the alternative was too angsty - im too soft for princess!nat ugh - anyways, here u go! hope u like it <3
summary: Natasha is a princess and heir to the throne and you're her lady-in-waiting.
contains: princess!nat x fem!reader, slight forbidden love trope, secret relationship, a sprinkle of friends to lovers, glimpse of angst, brief mention of blood, oral (reader receiving), thigh riding, and nat being sexy and protective <3
word count: 5k
WARNING: This fic has subtle hints of homophobia and brief mentions of death. If this makes you uncomfortable, don’t read this fic or proceed at your own risk!
Natasha is distracted.
Usually, Steve never manages to even tap her with his sword; she’s usually the one to knock him down until he calls a truce. But today, her mind is someplace else.
Her gaze is distant, dancing around the training yard with a glazed-over film. Each swing of her sword is uncalculated, lousy, and nearly lifeless. Steve wonders why she even bothered asking him to practice, but he remains silent either way, watching as she steps away in evident aggravation.
You stand off to the side, watching from your peripheral as you quietly chat with a councilman. Your gaze drifts to Steve’s, eyes locking as he sends you a questioning look. You subtly shrug.
Truthfully, you’re not sure what the cause of Nat’s evident frustration is. When you entered her bed chamber this morning, she had already been awake, standing in front of her mirror with a scowl etched across her face as she struggled with a single braid.
As you silently helped her do her hair, you smiled, thinking back to the time she had asked you to teach her how to braid—
Steve was away, leaving Natasha to practice by herself. She didn’t mind practicing independently, but swinging a sword at a dummy or the crisp air felt useless. You could sense her frustration from afar, occasionally glancing up from your book to watch her pace in front of the dummy. You’re silently reading when she walks up to you, muddy boots kissing the hem of your dress.
Her cheeks are flushed and pink from the autumn weather, her lips red due to her habit of biting them in concentration. Her braided hair is tousled from the wind, loose strands sticking to her damp forehead and wet lips, swaying with each passing breeze.
“Will you be my partner for the day?” Her voice is low, gravely from the cold, yet comforting in familiarity. Your fingertips dig into the spine of your book as you draw in a steady breath, tilting your head as you speak, “I’m afraid my lack of skill won’t be of much help, princess.”
Her lips twitch with a ghost of a smirk, a hand reaching towards you. You look down at her hand, bruised knuckles and cold fingers clenched around the silver handle of her sword. “I’ll teach you.” An offer, but with how she looks at you so expectantly, you feel obligated to say yes.
You take a deep breath, close your book, and put it to the side as you stand. Natasha smiles, pacing backward into the muddy lawn as you follow, nervous hands gripping the fur of your coat.
“Promise I won’t get your dress dirty.” She comments, proudly swinging the heavy sword, shiny metal winking in the light similarly to her eyes. “Thank you,” you mutter, heavily swallowing as you turn to stand in front of the dummy. Natasha is now behind you, silent as she reaches forward to place the sword in front of you. You grab the handle, cold fingers brushing hers in exchange. “Will you teach me how to braid tonight?” She speaks up.
Your face twitches in confusion, glancing over your shoulder, quickly turning back around once you notice your proximity. “You want to learn how to braid?” She doesn’t, she could care less actually, but she hasn’t taken the time even to ask you what your hobbies are. She knows little to nothing about you, but she knows you are an excellent braider. “Yes…Will you teach me?” She repeats.
You take a slow breath before nodding; a small smile paints across her lips before she steps closer, chest pressing against your back as she presses a hand to the center of your stomach. A warm sensation seeps through your body when she speaks softly into your ear, “Keep your core tight, helps with stability.”
It was the first time she had acknowledged you as someone other than her lady-in-waiting. You were both fifteen at the time, and you had only been of service to her for a year and some change. Upon meeting Nat, she quickly brushed you off; but even the princess herself couldn’t resist you for too long. You were kind, understanding, and patient with Natasha— despite all of her attempts to get rid of you. Natasha had a habit of refusing help in any way, shape, or form, hence why she learned to wield swords, knives, bows, and arrows– name it, and she’s an expert. A princess with a heart of stone and a shiny weapon to match.
Despite her efforts to push you away, you still showed up every morning to help her get dressed. You still patiently sat to the side of the training yard, watching her and Steve take turns swinging their swords at one another. You still stood by her side at every obnoxious ball she was forced to attend, and you listened to every complaint she would mutter about how tight her corset was or how uncomfortable the pins in her hair were. You never once gave up on Natasha Romanoff.
It was only a matter of time before the two of you formed a bond stronger than the toughest steel a blacksmith could forge. You learned everything there was to know about Natasha, from the little things like her favorite shade of blue to the big things like how badly her mother's death had affected her.
You know her like the back of your hand as she does you, which is why you understand that Natasha will come to you when she’s ready to talk— and this applies to anything.
Steve is silent, unsure if he should say anything, when Natasha misses another swing, the tip of her sword scraping the muddy ground with a mockingly loud squelch. “Should we wrap up?”
Natasha breathes deeply, glancing at Steve before shaking her head. You stand alone now as you watch Natasha gather herself, drawing in a steady breath as she twirls the sword once.
Steve nods toward her right hand, “...You’re bleeding.”
You look down at her hand, stepping forward before you even process the scene; a stream of thick dark red liquid leaks down her arm, curls around her fingers, and slithers down the shiny metal of her sword. If she’s in pain, she doesn’t do much to show it. Instead, she clenches her jaw, clearly annoyed, as she shoves her sword back into the baldric strapped to her chest.
“We’ll take a break.” She mumbles loud enough for both you and Steve to hear before she’s silently walking into the castle, most likely to address the new wound.
You don’t see or hear word from Natasha for the rest of the day. As her lady-in-waiting, you must assist her in everything she does, but your job is challenging when she so easily slips away. She has always been good at hiding, ever since she was a child.
She knew the castle better than the architects that built it hundreds of years ago; she knew every nook and cranny— from the highest tower to the lowest cellar. She knew all of it, which only made it easier for her to get away when she needed the space.
You learned to never look for her in these times, 1- because you would never manage to find her, and 2- because she would always - always - return to you.
You’re in your room (ridiculously smaller than Nat’s, given you are considered castle staff), seated at the small desk in the corner as you silently read when you hear it. The knock on your chamber doors is soft, almost missable, but loud enough to turn your head. It is now night, too early to be midnight but well past supper, so you know who it is before you even open the door.
You don’t even bother closing your book, too eager to see Natasha and hear everything she has to say. You’ve prepared yourself to hear whatever had been weighing down on her, ready to listen and bring any comfort you can.
When you open the door, your heart races, taking in the sight of Natasha; her hair is wavy and damp, most likely from a bath, as tiny droplets of water drip onto her velvet-covered shoulders. Hugging her body is a deep red coat shielding her from the cold winter weather that seeps through the servant quarters.
Her eyes still hold that distant glare, but it’s better, more stable, as she meets your gaze. She takes note of your lack of a coat, “Are you not cold?”
You shake your head, stepping aside to let her in. She wastes no time, surging forward to kiss you as soon as you close the door shut and twist the lock. You hum, your hands finding solace in the fur of her coat, pulling her closer.
You can barely focus as she drives you backward, clumsy feet knocking against each other with each step. You’re a blur of tangled limbs, soft moans, and selfish grabs as you stumble towards your bed. She pushes you down onto the thin mattress, kneeling on the bed to hover over you as your kisses become heated, sloppy, and frantic. Neither of you is paying attention to your actions as you fumble with each other's clothing, eager to undress and feel the warmth of each other's skin— to quench the unbearable thirst that rests in the pit of your souls.
You come to your senses, breaking away with a heavy pant, blinking away your blurred vision as she pulls back to look at you. Refusing to waste another second, you ask, “What’s wrong?”
Your gazes dance amongst each other, both of you taking in each other's features as your bated breaths mix. Natasha swallows, blinking once and shaking her head. “Nothing.” A lie. One that you see right through despite her lousy efforts.
She leans forward in hopes of stealing another kiss, but your hands push at her shoulders, your expression soft compared to the harsh tone of your tone, “Natalia,” You press.
Her chest tightens at the name, eyes softening under your scrutiny. It’s moments like these when she remembers just how well you know her— when she remembers; there is no need to hide from you. She can put on the tough princess act for the entire kingdom, but for you, she will never need to— she will always inevitably crack and come undone.
She cracks a sad smile, gently cupping your face to softly run the pad of her rough thumb under your eye. “I’ll tell you…I will,” You don’t even notice as you lean into her palm, shoulders visibly relaxing under her touch. “I promise.”
Wordlessly, you nod, the both of you silently agreeing to come back to the conversation, but for now, there is a burning desire to feel one another’s touch in ways only the walls will ever know of, for now at least.
You waste no time rushing forward, pushing your lips against hers, toes curling at the taste of her lips. You will never get sick of the feeling. Her hands are steady as they pull at your chemise, dragging the long thin fabric up your legs, further up your stomach before she has no choice but to part from you. She makes quick work of dragging the garment up off of you, tossing it off to the side before finding your lips once again. You both softly moan against each other as Natasha leans more forward to push you onto your back, her hands busying themselves with the familiar landscape of your body.
She parts from you with a wet sound, and you huff in frustration, watching as she moves back to stand at the foot of the bed. Your whiny huff causes her to grin as she begins to slip off her coat.
“Be patient.” Her stern voice sends a pang of arousal to your core, thighs squeezing in desire as you push yourself up to sit on your knees, crawling to the edge of the bed. You say nothing, watching as the heavy coat falls to the floor. She stands in front of you, dressed in a black corset and a silk slip; your deepest desires and unspoken dreams stand before you, tempting you closer with the lustful look beneath her lashes.
The holy grail rests beneath your fingertips when you reach out, digging your fingers into the laces of her corset, pulling and unlacing each row until it’s fully open. You’re quickly pushing the corset off, not even waiting to hit the ground before you’re surging forward, greedily lapping and sucking at her neck. Eager fingers leave goosebumps in their wake, gliding along the plane of her collarbones, past the valley of her breasts, and over her stomach. The tip of your finger dips into the curve of her navel before traveling further and curling around the hem of her slip.
Your soft kisses dance from her neck to her shoulders, light pecks trailing down her arm and softening once you reach the white bandage that now hugs her wounded bicep. You glance up at her through heavy lashes, smiling back when she smiles at you in adoration. You gently kiss the bandage, and her heart flutters in her chest. You press on with your kisses.
She lets out a shaky breath when your lips wrap around her taut nipple, tongue slowly laving over the sensitive bud. Her hands find their way into your hair, curling against the roots as she moans in pleasure. Eagerly, you push down the slip, the thin fabric fluttering to pool at her feet as your hands squeeze at her hips. Your fingers curl, nails lightly skimming across her skin as your hands sneakily cascade down her figure, caressing the smooth skin of her thighs. She catches you before you reach your final destination, pulling you back to kiss you sloppily. She pulls away when you get greedy, lazily smiling when you chase her, whining when she denies you the pleasure. “You’re being mean.”
She hums, softly pushing you back to lie against the bed. She ignores your comment, slowly advancing as you lean back on your elbows. “I want to taste you.” She purrs, steady hands parting your thighs to wedge her knee between them, straddling your thigh.
Her hands are rough and calloused from her many hobbies, sending shivers up your spine as she grazes every bare inch of skin you have to offer.
Her lips attach to your jaw before the kisses trail lower and lower as your breathing becomes more and more bated, watching as she slowly makes her way between your legs. You ache beneath her gaze, cheeks heating in excitement as she takes in your bare cunt.
Her hands selfishly squeeze the meat of your thighs as she leans in to press a kiss to the inside of each of them. She snickers when your hips squirm at the sensation. Out of all of Natasha’s hobbies; horse riding, archery, and even swordsmanship— you are her favorite of them all. Not a day goes by when she doesn’t have a fleeting thought of the sacred altar that hides between your thighs. If she had the choice, she would gladly busy herself with your cunt than spend another minute dwelling on her allegiance to the crown.
There are no further warnings before she dives in, licking a thick stripe up your cunt. Your breath hitches, knees buckling at the sensation of her warm tongue dragging back and forth over your cunt, swirling over your clit before wrapping her lips around the bud and gently suckling.
“O-oh–” You keen, one hand reaching out to grasp her hair as the other tightly grabs onto your stiff blankets. Your tummy clenches in pleasure, failing to stay still beneath her intoxicating touch. Silently, with her mouth still busy devouring your cunt, she reaches up and presses a hand to the center of your chest, forcing you onto your back and pulling a surprised moan from you. The hand fisted in your sheets grabs her hand that’s rested against your chest, subconsciously squeezing her fingers as they curl around yours. Her mouth greedily sucks at your clit, occasionally breaking away to lap at the sinful arousal that drips from your folds to smear across your chin.
She glances up at you, humming while she watches your face twist into a look of pleasure, lips parted with each moan you spill, eyes shut in an overwhelming bliss.
Her hand slips away from yours, trailing down your body until she reaches your thighs. Wordlessly, she grips the back of your thighs and parts them further, gently pushing your knees up towards your chest and relishing in the pitiful cry you let out, removing your other hand from her hair to join the other in grasping at your sheets.
She doesn’t let you go for long, quickly reaching for your hand and placing it back in her damp hair, urging you to grasp it instead. She surges forward, subtly shaking her head in an attempt to drink you in even more. Your hips drive upward, greedily seeking out the eye-rolling, toe-curling, back-arching sensation that only she can give you.
With a lewd wet sound, she pulls off from your dripping cunt, shamefully eyeing the beautiful scenery as you pulse in abandon. A steady thumb falls to your clit, and she begins to rub tight circles against the slippery bud, still managing to hold you down while doing so, reveling in the watery cry that escapes your lips.
She leans forward, slanting her wet mouth over yours as her fingers slowly dip into your sex. “Not too loud,” She reminds you. You softly moan, clenching around her digits as you dwell in the taste of you mixed with the taste of her.
“What would you do if the others heard you, hm?” Your left arm is now hooked around her shoulders, blunt nails deliciously digging into her shoulder blade as your other hand reaches down to hold her wrist, feeling out the motion of each thrust of her fingers— in and out, in and out.
The sound is sinful, wet, and sticky, lewd enough to cause the back of your neck to heat in embarrassment. “How would you explain this to them? How would you explain how wet you get for your princess?” Her voice drips with arousal, low but smooth, enticing enough to send shivers up your spine and set your nerves ablaze.
She trails kisses from your lips to your jaw, wet lips brushing the shell of your ear as she speaks, “Imagine how shocked they would be to hear how quick you are to part your legs for me—”
Her fingers curl upwards, and your eyes roll, a wave of pleasure wracking through your body and leaving you gasping for air. “— How easily this pussy of yours sucks me in every single time.” She presses a wet kiss below your ear, and you shiver.
You find your hands trembling as they smooth down her body, fingertips digging into her hips and pulling forward. “Wanna touch you too. Please?” You beg, watery eyes landing on hers when she pulls away from your neck to gaze at you. You both look disheveled, beautifully so. Only Natasha looks more put together than you, lips swollen and red, shiny and wet with your arousal. Her cheeks are a deep shade of pink from both heat and lust. Whereas you lie breathlessly beneath her, wide eyes glossy and fogged with pleasure, tiny beads of sweat beginning to prickle across your forehead. You look fucked out, struggling to grasp your words with how well she’s fucking you with her fingers.
She nods, and you waste no time sneaking your hand between your bodies, fingers traveling past the patch of neatly groomed hair that leads you to your final destination.
Your fingers skim past her clit, dipping lower to gather the sticky arousal and running back up to spread it throughout her heat. She pants, her hips rutting down against your hand in abandon.
The two of you work each other towards the edge for some time, lips sloppily melding together in a calculated mess of passion. You feel that tight, curling feeling building within the pit of your stomach.
You whine when she slowly pulls her fingers from you, but you make no other sound of protest as she straddles your thigh again. Your hand slips from her heat, moving to grasp her hips and pull her forward. You moan, your core aching at the feeling of her warm thigh pressed against your dripping cunt.
Natasha has slowly followed you into a state of complete bliss, both of your minds hazy and clouded with the need to reach that peak. Together, you’re a panting and sweaty mess, greedy hands squeezing and grabbing at miles of skin and hair, hips rolling together in tandem, pitiful sounds rolling onto each other's tongues.
Your movements become more and more frantic, less and less calculated. A slight sting arises where Nat’s nails bite into your hips, but it only pushes you further toward the edge, a breathy whine wracking through your lungs.
When you come, it’s an all-encompassing sensation, from your head to your toes, your body shaking in ecstasy. Your body feels so distant from the room, but you’ve never felt closer to Nat, thighs tightening around her as she topples over. Her heavy breaths hit the side of your neck, parted lips ghosting over the sweaty skin as you both sink into the feeling.
Slowly, your hips roll to a stop, bodies collapsing against one another in exhaustion as you both silently bask in the afterglow.
The room is silent, save for the sound of you both attempting to catch your breath. You feel content, happy, and satisfied with Nat’s body pressed to yours, your fingers subconsciously winding through her tangled hair.
Minutes pass before she tilts her head to look at you, lips brushing yours as she speaks, voice hoarse from the previous activities, “Would you like to go for a walk?”
You don’t even have to answer verbally, lips curling into a soft smile as you slightly nod, kissing her once before she carefully moves away from you.
Within a few minutes, you’re both quietly walking through the castle's gallery, a familiar routine the two of you have adopted as an unspoken tradition. Many late nights have been spent walking through this hall, the nights when Nat struggles to let her mind rest, the nights when you struggle to let sleep take over. The gallery is your and Nat’s safe place. The place where you talk through everything, or you let the unsaid speak for you. Either way, the gallery has come to be your favorite hall of the castle.
You sit in front of a portrait of her mother, dim moonlight from the windows casting shadows over the pristine walls.
You let Natasha take her time gathering her thoughts, nervous fingers picking at the fabric of your dress. However, what leaves her mouth is not at all what you had been expecting, “The king is dead.”
You could dizzy yourself with the speed your head spins her way. Your world stills for a moment, white noise filling your eardrums as your heart pounds against the cage in your chest. The sound of her voice pulls you back to the room as she continues to speak.
“This morning. A hunting incident.”
Your heart breaks for Natasha. The loss of a parent is a void that can never truly be filled, you would know from experience, but you can’t imagine the pain she’s dealing with now. She never fully recovered from her mother's death at such a young age, but now that her father is gone, she has lost both parents and is expected to take the throne.
You blink, softly shaking your head in disbelief.
“Your sister?” “She doesn’t know,” Her voice fails her, faltering towards the end, her face twists in frustration as her head bows, eyes flickering down towards her lap. She clears her throat, swallowing before she speaks, “At least not yet…”
You understand why she avoids telling her sister the news. Out of the two sisters, Yelena was the one who took her mother's death the hardest. She spent weeks alone in her bed chamber, only leaving to attend the memorial before locking herself in again. Natasha was the one that helped her through it; she was patient with her, allowing her to feel every emotion that would boil over, always quick to come to her sister's aid.
Natasha is a tough lover, rigid and stiff on the outside but soft and warm beneath the surface. Yelena is soft and warm all around; she loves with her entire mind, body, and soul. The news of her father’s passing will inevitably crush her.
You reach out for her, resting a comforting hand atop her folded hands in her lap, “I’m so sorry.”
She’s silent for a moment before she takes a steady breath, turning her hands in your grasp to hold them. The initial news of her father’s passing was enough to have your heart drop, but the words that leave her mouth are enough to leave you breathless, “I want you to be my queen consort.”
Again, you find your eyes locked on her face, lips parted in shock as her words sink in. A silent moment passes, deafening and thick enough to choke you. You barely register your feet carrying you through the castle halls, leaving Natasha behind in the gallery as you walk towards the doors.
Your mind is cluttered and spinning as you burst through the castle doors, drifting down the stairs and stepping into the heaps of snow that have settled over the grass. Your breath is bated as you pace on the lawn, thick clouds of white following your every breath. The news you’ve received from the past few minutes is quickly coming to a boil, an overwhelming wave of emotions crashing down on you and greedily sucking up all the air from your lungs. Your nails dig into the rich fabric of your dress, the corset seemingly getting tighter with each passing second.
You almost curse when you hear your name, torn between the unbearable pain of reality and the warm blanket of comfort you’ve now associated with her voice. “Are you alright?” She steps into the snow where you stand. “Do not patronize me.”
She halts at your harsh tone, watching as you turn your back to her, wrapping your arms across your midsection. You curse the cold weather and your lack of a coat as Natasha steps closer.
“Come inside; you’ll get sick.”
And you’ve had enough. You’re tired of Natasha pushing and pushing, downplaying the legitimacy of her name, her title, your relationship— the consequences of your relationship. Your hands are balled into fists as you turn to her. “How could you ask this of me?” Her gaze is soft, hands held together behind her back as you study her.
“They will never accept me as queen; you realize this, yes?”
She steadily breathes as she steps closer, snow crunching beneath her weight. “I will do everything in my power to keep you safe— you know this,” The wind is harsh, pinching at your skin and sharp enough to numb your fingers. “When have I ever put you in harm's way?”
You’re silent. You have no answer because she hasn’t. There has never been a time when Natasha let you come even close to a threat, an accusation-– anything. She has always come to your defense, and as heir to the throne, her words hold more authority than a priest to a congregation.
If you were to go through with it – marry her and become queen consort – there’s no doubt there would be challenges within the kingdom, from the members of the high table to the commoners in the city. The two of you would have to fight tooth and nail to secure your title as King and Queen.
“I won’t be the reason you lose everything.” She doesn’t waste a second, already knowing you would make that excuse, before she replies, “You don’t get to make that decision for me.”
Your eyes shut as you take in a breath of frustration, turning away from her once again. Your head hurts, a painful, dull throb beginning to spread through the forefront of your forehead. You silently sigh, finally locking eyes as you speak, “Are…are you sure?”
The silence hangs thick, pulsing with hesitance, longing, heartbreak, and nearly every other emotion you could imagine. Natasha can’t believe you even have to ask. She’s never been more sure of something in her life; she’s spent days upon nights – months – thinking about the moment she could make you queen. Natasha doesn’t care that you’re her lady-in-waiting; she doesn’t care that it’s impractical in endless ways in the eyes of the high table. She only wants you.
All of it comes to a tipping point, the dam finally breaking when she shifts even closer, your arms brushing as she reaches out to gently grasp your elbow, “I’m sure.”
A moment's pause before you rush forward, cold lips pressing against hers. Natasha's hand cups your face as she pulls you closer, your bodies nearly melding into one. Her warm breath hits your top lip with each breath that leaves her body, making you weak in the knees, your stomach twisting in a sickening mixture of nerves, fear, happiness— love most of all.
Your hands fist at the fur of her winter coat, heart fluttering when she pulls away with one last peck. A lovesick heat rushes up the back of your neck and spreads throughout your cheeks when she smiles at you. She means it when she says, “You’ll be the best queen this kingdom has ever had.”
And there isn’t a single person on this earth you would rather take this journey with apart from Natasha Romanoff.
Just Say It // N.R
Warning(s): cursing, brief mentions of blood & gore, angst w/ a happy ending, long post
You were an anomaly to the team, mostly when it pertained to your abilities and their usage.
When working, rarely was it around the rest of the group. Rather, you’d be sent in after missions for reasons undisclosed to them, or sent alone altogether. If you were along with the team for a mission, it was hard to even entice you to speak.
The team wasn’t complaining about your presence tho, they were rather relieved you’d been around most of the time. Your proficiency in hand to hand combat rivaled that of Natasha’s, so you weren’t a hinderance to their mission, wether with them or away.
But another issue that cloaked you in mystery, was the fact you didn’t live at the compound like the rest of them, and rarely showed to any functions, events, or parties. Tony always extended an olive branch, yet you always denied him with a soft shake of your head.
Somehow, throughout your silent treatment, you got along well with two members of the team in particular.
Wanda was one of them, if outwardly appearance showed correctly. Anytime you were around, whether it be pre-mission planning or taking up space in the common room, you had always had an affliction to Wanda.
You’d sit down next to her with the warm smile you seemed to always bare, and she’d go on to tell you her activities that had transpired the past week. Sometimes she’d discuss her interests, and tried to prod at your own, but you only brushed her off with a wave of your hand.
Next was Natasha, although you were not as friendly to her as much as you were with Wanda. You’d always spar with her, and somehow give her a worthy opponent every time. With your soft smile, and kind eyes, you always lifted her off the mat after putting her on her ass.
And when you both weren’t sparring, you’d sit across the couch from her as she rewatched some spy movie for the millionth time. You never spoke up, and you never ruined the silence that always seemed to befall you both. In the beginning, Natasha felt uncomfortable about your silent presence, but now it had grown to be a constant. The movies never felt the same without you.
It made her wonder what Clint found so terrifying about you.
Clint always paled in your presence, and outright refused missions when you were involved. He’d go so far as to make his exit known whenever you arrived in the same room, and you looked almost sad to see him leave every time.
Natasha asked about it one night, turning the volume down on the TV in hopes that, maybe, you’d speak to her this one time. But you only shook your head, and the apologetic smile upon your face didn’t meet your eyes. You looked sad, and Natasha swore she watched tears well up in your eyes. She felt bad for even asking.
You had been scarce around the compound after that, much more than you were before. You did not linger after missions, and you no longer trained with the team. You’d give them a smile that never reached your eyes, then made your leave every time you had come into contact with them.
The next time Natasha had been around you was relieving, but questionable, considering the rather classified mission Fury had conscripted you both to do.
You both sat in the briefing room, minus the rest of the team, as Director Fury discussed your next mission. It was a recovery mission of a rather dangerous asset, and Fury was adamant on the retrieval of said asset be as easy as possible.
Quirking a brow in Natasha’s direction, Fury seemed to pick up on the question that hid within your gaze.
“She’s only a precautionary measure to ensure the safety of yourself, and the asset.” He said, and you were quick to push yourself from your chair. The stony glare on your face showed that you were not happy with this idea, and Natasha felt offended at the change in your demeanor.
“I know you work alone.” Fury said, not daunted by your uncharacteristic outburst. “But I assure you, she’s there if anything goes south. If the asset steps out of line in anyway, she will prioritize your safety over anything else.”
Fury seemed to turn to Natasha in a silent plea for support, but you were having none of it.
I do not need a guard dog. You signed aggressively, and Natasha was almost shocked to see you communicate with anyone so openly. You’d never signed to the team, and hadn’t even shown any indication that you even knew how.
Another issue came with the fact Natasha had no idea what you were signing to Fury. She had a basic knowledge of sign from what Clint had taught her, but nothing as advanced as you were using.
She almost felt left out of this squabble between you, and the Director.
“She will wear ear plugs throughout the duration of the mission.” Fury said, rubbing his temples to show his growing frustration. “Does that make you happy?”
You aggressively pushed the chair you had been occupying under the table, before slamming the door of the briefing room as you walked out.
“Is she that upset that I’m joining her on the mission?” Natasha spoke up a few moments after they had both been staring at the door in silence.
“If she was that upset about you joining her, she would’ve said it.” He said, before pointing toward the door. “Now go get your shit ready for the mission, you’re leaving now.”
The entire ride to the extraction point of the asset was silent, and you barely even acknowledged Natasha’s presence besides a few glances from the corner of your eye.
You were obviously upset from the way you kept sighing every time you looked at her, or the hunched way you sat in the copilot seat on the quinjet.
Natasha desperately wanted to discuss what happened in the briefing room, but the ear plugs within her ears caused every sound around her to be silent. Not even the quinjet could be heard, and it was almost unnerving.
She knew better than to question Fury on a precaution like ear protection, but it still left her with questions. What was so worth losing one of her greatest senses for? Why did you not have to wear them?
Finally, the jet landed in an open lot with various warehouses lining the perimeter.
Seemingly knowing the exact one the asset was within, you waved Natasha in the direction you had began walking toward. She followed at a slower pace, allowing herself to gain situational awareness with her vision, rather than relying on her hearing, or lack thereof.
Approaching the warehouse, Natasha noticed blood covering almost the entirety of the concrete floor and littered with corpses. She recognized the uniforms upon the mutilated ￼bodies, and realized they were belonging to SHEILD agents.
Her hand moved to the gun holstered upon her thigh, but you caught her wrist to stop her. You shook your head, before trudging deeper in the darkness of the warehouse.
As both your eyes adjusted to the lack of light, there was a girl standing alone among the bodies. Like a grotesque centerpiece to the carnage.
The girl noticed your presence but before she could advance on your position, you opened your mouth to speak, causing the girl to stop in her tracks.
Natasha could not hear a single word coming from your mouth, and couldn’t exactly read your lips from standing next to you, but she knew you were speaking. It was daunting to see such a thing, and it seemed so out of character.
What the hell was going on?
You approached the girl, and when Natasha moved to follow, your jutted out your palm as an indication for her to stay behind. She felt uneasy about it, but listened to your instruction.
You continued to speak to the girl as you approached, if your jaw moving was any indication as Natasha was forced to stare at your back.
Minutes ticked by that felt like hours as your approached the mutant girl, and once you were within arms reach of her, the girl seemed to collapse into your arms. You hoisted up her unconscious form easily, and began to make your way back to the jet.
Even as Natasha piloted the quinjet back to the compound, the uneasy feeling had yet to leave her gut.
Upon returning, the recovered mutant asset was met with armored SHEILD agents anticipating her arrival. They took her unconscious body from your grasp before restraining her in a multitude of ways, and you watched from the jet as the carted her away.
Once the asset was out of sight with her cavalry of agents, Natasha was quick to rip the plugs from her ears. You turned to her with that warm smile upon your face again, but it fell the moment you noticed how tense she had become.
“What the hell was that?” Natasha said, and you seemed bewildered as you held up your hands in silent defense. She quickly slapped your hands down. “Don’t give me that, I know you can speak.”
You took a defensive step back, and your eyes glanced toward the door into the compound. The cogs of your brain started to turn, and Natasha noticed you were thinking of making a break for it. She then took a step to the left, ultimately blocking your exit.
You glared at her.
“Are you not going to answer me?” Natasha said, her tone still aggressive. She realized frustration began to tense at your muscles too, and she decided to see how far she could push this until your resolve for silence finally broke.
“Why is that murderous girl so worthy of you to speak to her, but not even the team? Not even me?” She spoke. Your frustrated glare turned questionable when you had realized her words, until you remembered you were upset with her sudden outburst, and your gaze became hostile again.
Your eyes were still glancing toward the door, calculating your possible escape even as she grew more aggressive toward you. Natasha realized she was going to have to push your frustration harder as she stepped into your personal space, practically chest to chest with you now.
“Seriously?” Natasha scoffed. She noticed the muscles of your jaw begin to tighten, but you made no effort to regain your personal space. Your eyes screwed shut, and you refused to even look at her anymore as she continued to assault you with questions.
“Did you think I was just going to let this go?” Natasha continued to chastise you, and you shook your head as your eyes remained shut. “Why have you never spoke to us?”
Your lips twitched, and Natasha froze as she watched you. She was hoping to hear you say something, but realized she had pressed you too far the moment she noticed the tears slipping down your cheeks.
Using her shoulder to shove her away, you retreated toward the doorway as you aggressively wiped the tears from your eyes.
Natasha watched the door slam shut behind you once again, and she felt guilt replace that uneasy feeling inside her. She realizes now she shouldn’t have chastised you as hard as she did, considering your desperation to even try to speak to her.
Then, without a sound Clint approached from behind her as she watched your retreat.
“She’s as silent as ever, I see.” Clint said, with a slight resentment in his tone, and his sudden presence caused Natasha to jump. He glanced her over, with a question on his brow. “She mess’ you up that bad?”
“What is that suppose to mean?” Natasha said, but Clint didn’t fail to notice her grow defensive once again.
“You mean to tell me she didn’t speak to you?” He asked, and now Natasha was growing confused all over again. “That’s not what that whole ordeal was about?”
“Great. Now you’re both being cryptic.” Natasha sighed, with a roll of her eyes. She shook her head, before sighing. “Why do you even despise her so much?”
“I don’t despise her.” Clint said, in a matter of fact tone that furthered Natasha’s sour mood. “I actually owe her our friendship, but it cost the friendship I had with her.”
“If you’re going to keep speaking in riddles, you might as well just shut up.”
“Natasha, I was going to kill you.” Clint said, with a heavy sigh as if the weight of that mission still sat upon his shoulders. “She’s the reason I didn’t release the arrow.”
He remembered the mission briefing, and how hesitant you had been to even participate in such an endeavor. Clint could see it on your face, especially when you glanced his way to see if he agreed with your uncertainties.
“Clint will deliver the killing blow.” Fury spoke, and you cringed at the idea. You were always the passive one in the friendship between you, and Clint. “And if he somehow misses-”
You raised a hand to stop Fury’s tangent, already knowing where it was going to go.
Even after the briefing was over you remained behind in silence, even as Fury had vacated the room. Clint stared at you in silence, and you could feel his gaze burning into the side of your face.
“You don’t think we should do it.” Clint’s voice filled the air, and you sighed even hearing such words spoke aloud.
This is not right. You signed, and it was his turn to sigh.
She’s a victim.
“We don’t know her intentions.”
Why not help her?
“Let’s just go, perform the mission, and leave it behind us.” He groaned, and rubbed his hand across his face. “That’s all we can do.”
Weeks passed from such conversation between you, and your closest friend. And now, you both sat atop a roof within a city you couldn’t pronounce to track the target you had been searching for.
She had only moved below the cover of night, and her head swiveled around herself as she walked through the alleyway. Clint pulled the string of his bow taught as he trained his aim upon her back, he released a steady breath in preparation to release the arrow.
That was, until you spoke up.
“Don’t shoot.” You said calmly, barely loud enough for him to hear you.
Clint’s body began to tingle with a warm feeling prickling at his skin, opposing the harsh cold air of the night upon the rooftop. He turned toward you with an absolute look of betrayal upon his face.
His body worked against every plea he had to complete the mission assigned to both of you, to release the arrow within his hand. But rather, Clint replaced the arrow within his quiver.
“Stop!” Clint plead, but his body made no effort to oppose your words. “She’s dangerous, we can’t allow her to live.”
“Look at her.” You said, and his head snapped in her direction. “She’s not much different from a scared kid.”
“More like a cornered animal.”
“Either way, I think she’d be a good agent for SHIELD.” You said, and he grit his teeth at the words he knew were about to leave your mouth. With a look of sympathy, you spoke again. “Go recruit her.”
Clint grit his teeth in attempted defiance, before his body forced himself to perform your words. You watched as he approached the red headed woman in the alleyway below, before turning away to make your way toward the extraction point.
You were happy to see Clint arrive awhile after you, with the red head in tow.
During the debrief of the mission, Fury was beyond furious with both of your performances during the mission, although you took all the blame. You had betrayed Clint’s trust, and had gone off mission with an unauthorized use of your power against a fellow agent.
You were lucky that the only thing destroyed after the mission was your close friendship with Clint, considering Fury had half a mind to toss you into a super human prison for your insubordination. The only thing riding on your freedom was the possibility that Natasha might become a true asset to SHIELD.
“If you betrayed the agency, she was going to be sent to a maximum security prison for life.” Clint said in summary of his story, with a heavy sigh. “She risked everything.”
Natasha shook her head, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the story shared. “Why’d you listen if you were so adamant on killing me?”
“You don’t get it do you?” Clint said, with confusion creasing his brow. “She has the power of absolute suggestion. Everything she says has to be enacted out by anyone who hears, no matter the circumstance.”
Everything that conspired had suddenly began to make more, and more sense. Like your oath of silence, and Fury mentioning you would’ve said that you didn’t want Natasha to join you.
Suddenly, an overwhelming urge to chase after you flooded within Natasha. She quickly apologized to Clint, before rushing through the door she saw you escape to only awhile ago.
“Where is she?” Natasha asked the few teammates within the common room. Wanda hadn’t even looked up from the book in her lap, but rather just lifted a hand to point down the hallway behind her. She could hear Natasha’s rushed footsteps fade as she continued to chase after you.
Finally, Natasha was able to see your retreating form down the hallway, and her steps began to pick up.
“Wait!” She called out to you, fearing that you were once again going to run away from the questions, from the team, from her.
Much to her surprise, you stopped before turning her way. There were still tear tracks stained across your cheeks, and Natasha suddenly felt overwhelmingly guilty. You had risked everything to allow Natasha to be here, a part of the greatest team of superheroes to exist, and as payment she had left you crying.
Rather than speaking, Natasha simply rushed forward to wrap you within a hug. You seemed overwhelmed by the sudden display of affection from the usually bristly assassin, and wondered just where this uncharacteristic outburst had come from.
“I’m sorry.” She mumbled into your shoulder, and she felt you tense under her grasp. Pulling away, Natasha placed her hands upon our cheeks to wipe away the aftermath of your crying.
You continued to stare at her in confusion, before shaking your head as much as you were able as a silent way to tell her don’t be.
“I am.” Natasha pleaded with you. She felt tears prick at her eyes, as the feelings bubbling within her began to grow overwhelming. Leaning forward, she placed her forehead against your own as she closed her eyes.
“You we’re the only person who believed in me, who thought I deserved a second chance.” Natasha said, her voice wavering as she willed herself not to sob. “You risked everything, and looking back, even I think that was a stupid decision! I was a loaded gun just waiting for the perfect opportunity to go off, and we both would’ve faced the consequences of those actions.”
You looked at her, and if she opened her eyes, she’d see the soft smile that sat upon your face. You had begun crying with her, and she continued to rant about you.
“Why?” She asked you before a sob ripped through her chest. “What made you look at me, and think I deserved mercy? I was cold blooded, and ruthless.”
Rather than waiting for her to finish her rant, you silenced her yourself as you leaned against her to place a gentle kiss upon her lips. You sighed into the kiss, and you felt her tension melt into you.
Pulling away from you, she shook her head as fresh tears began to fall down her cheeks. You reached up to wipe them away, before tucking a stray red lock behind her ear.
“Because I love you, Natasha Romanoff.”
What about a Natasha Romanoff X female avenger!R where Natasha has constant nightmares and has a hard time falling asleep. Then one night she finds R in the compound living room watching TV or something cause R is a night owl or just hanging around, so the red head joins her. It’s going great and Nat starts to relax but then R starts giving signs of heading to bed but Nat prolongs or suggests other things to do like have tea, watch a movie, braid hair, paint nails, anything she can come up with to not let R leave her alone and having to go back to sleep in fear of the nightmares coming back. Eventually R catches on what’s happening and asks why Nat is not letting her go to sleep and the Russian confesses, feeling guilty for keeping R from going to bed. But then R suggests Nat sleep in her room, like a sleepover, and by the end feelings are confessed! Sorry for being specific!! You write Natasha so well and on point!! I always love seeing (reading) this soft side of her!!
Favourite Person || Natasha Romanoff
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Warnings: Mentions of nightmares, mention of trauma, mentions of the Red Room, explicit language. If I have missed any warnings, please let me know.
Word Count: 5127 words.
A/N: Thank you so much for the request Anon, (I’m so sorry it’s late). To the anon that requested this fic, if you are not happy with it and would like me to re-write it, I will happily do so. I hope you all enjoy! Please note this is an au so some character’s behaviours may be different to what is expected.
Please do not repost (on here or any social media platform), copy, translate or take ownership of my work. Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated <3.
Favourite Person: Natasha Romanoff-
“No, no please- just let me go!”
The somewhat delicate yet rasping sounds of pleading whimpers of desired escape fill the momentarily still bedroom belonging to that of Natasha Romanoff.
Desperate intakes of air in combination with mind numbing struggles against a dream-like battle that she fails to overcome each night she’s graced with even a substantial set of hours to sleep, plague her traumatised mind.
With one final desperate gust of air surging through her windpipe, she forces her now awakened self up from the sweat-tainted mattress that supports her body.
Glistening, tear-filled eyes frantically roam the features of the room as Natasha scans her environment for any potential intruder destined to cause harm to her.
With a soft and grounding clutch to her Anchor shaded comforter, she concludes that she’s safe for another night; and that her wicked past has once again robbed her of another night of a peaceful and yet craved slumber.
Natasha can’t help as her hands roam her heated skin, having the urge to fidget as her mind fails to come down from the relentless period of memories belonging to that of the Red Room- ones that she would be ever so quick to forget if she was given the opportunity.
Knowing any further hours designated to sleep were off the table, Natasha leans her trembling body over to her bedside table- hoping to deliver herself a well needed drink of water to not only lessen her now dry throat, but to have the calming effect needed to slow her rapidly pacing heart rate down.
Much to her dismay, as she grasps the hardened plastic cup that once held a heaped amount of water in it; she soon realises her cup is now empty.
Having had her right to drink forfeited, she releases a gentle breath of frustration, alongside a string of Russian curses at the continuous, nightly bad luck that seems to be lurking its way to her recently.
One night she hopes she can have a dreamless sleep just to gather up enough energy to carry out her duties as an Avenger, and to stop her waking mind from reliving the nightmares from the night before. Though that seems like too much to ask.
Refusing to re-enter her nightmares once more during the nightly period, she sleepily hoists her body out from between her sheets. Ensuring she gives herself a moment to steady her breathing before leaving her darkened room.
Knowing she is ready, she quickly swipes her empty cup from her bedside table and ever so quietly makes her way to her bedroom door; taking extra care when turning the doorknob to exit the room with as minimal levels of noise as possible. She’d hate herself for disturbing any of her teammates with her late night adventure to the kitchen. Just because she can’t sleep, why should they pay the price in losing sleep also?
Little does Natasha know, one teammate in particular would lose countless hours of sleep to ensure the redhead was safe and secure in any situation- especially when her haunting dreams take their toll.
As Natasha makes her way through the narrow pathways leading to her desired location; she picks up a little tune on the side of her cup, allowing her nails to tap mindlessly against the smooth surface. Hoping her mind chooses to focus on the range of movements needed to continue the repeated pattern, opposed to the horrors lingering from within.
That is until her ears pick up on muffled voices coming from the living area of the Compound.
Natasha’s entire system freezes; in her sleepy and somewhat confused state of mind, her thoughts rush to the most terrifying conclusions:
The voices could belong to Hydra members; desperate to seek and steal documents from the Avengers. It could be the Red Room, sending their final wave of untraceable Widows to finish Natasha and Yelena off, and in the process take out the Avengers.
With a vice, tight grip now on her cup, Natasha steadily allows her feet to move herself towards the noise source in a stealthy manner- attempting to gauge the seriousness of the situation and to determine how much force will be needed to deal with the potential intruders.
Natasha unknowingly releases laboured breaths, each step filling her body with a dread that she has not felt since she was a child roaming the hallways of the Red Room itself. Desperately trying to move from one room to another without being punished for stepping in the incorrect sequence or even making too much noise when she is so harshly trained to be as silent as a whisper.
As Natasha lines her back with the edge of the wall leading to the Living Area and Kitchen, she inhales a steady breath, knocking herself into her ruthless ‘Black Widow’ nature. With a hardened glare, she moves her line of sight around the corner to which her entire demeanour drops as soon as she spots the unexpected scene unfolding in front of her.
She finds you laying across the couch haphazardly as you stare at the TV screen illuminating the room in a gentle, blue hue as the muffled voices that Natasha mistakenly thought to be intruders continue- seemingly now belonging to the show that entraps your attention currently.
Natasha slowly moves closer to you, noticing more details as she approaches: like how one of your legs swings over the edging of the sofa in a careless motion as you stare at the images dancing across the screen; how you lazily place singular pieces of popcorn on your tongue in anticipation to bite down on the slightly hardened texture of the food item. Even how you carefully rest your head on your supported hand, tilting your gaze in wonderment of the information being gathered from the show of your choice.
She can’t help but stare at you in awe, finding it highly difficult to recall an instance where she has known you to be so calm and collected. Even being in your presence has removed some of the tension that had been built up in her muscles since she woke up from her nightmare.
She must admit, she’s relieved to find you of all people out here. Out of all the members of the team recently, you’ve been one of the only ones who can effortlessly put a smile on her face- something she is in desperate need of in her current state.
Having the overwhelming sense to join you, she chooses to clear her throat, snapping you out of your TV trance once you register her presence.
You quickly reach for the TV remote and eagerly press down on the mute button as you go to speak to Natasha, “Oh, hey, sorry did I wake you up?”
Natasha quickly shakes her head, “No, I just- I wanted some more water. I didn’t expect anyone else to be up so late.” Natasha silently scolds herself for her awkward stuttering for an answer. Though she knows she’s not quite ready to burden you with her night terrors, part of her feels the added weight of keeping the anxiety surrounding them in once more.
You push yourself up from the couch with a slight groan, having been in the same position for several hours straight, “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m more of a ‘night owl’ than anything so usually I watch my shows in my room but my TV is busted. Tony said he will fix it for me tomorrow so this is more of a one off.” You say as you gesture to the scene around you.
Natasha takes in your words as she draws invisible patterns on her cup, “Don’t apologise, it’s nice to have some company at this time of night.” Natasha says genuinely, usually having to face the aftermath of her nightmares alone until the more reasonable hours of the morning.
“What are you watching?” She attempts to guide the conversation forward.
You raise your eyebrows in surprise, not expecting Natasha to show an interest, “Oh, um Cupcake Wars.” You answer with glee.
Natasha smirks at your show choice, “Cupcake Wars? Really?” She says in a humoured manner.
You tilt your head with a narrowed gaze, “Judgment? Really?” You remark in a light manner, earning a chuckle from the Black Widow herself.
You lick your lips before you go to speak again, “You can blame Yelena for this, I wasn’t even into it until she made me watch it.”
Natasha scoffs in disbelief, never having assumed Yelena would even be into shows such as this, “Yelena? My sister? The lean, mean Mac n’ Cheese loving machine?”
You laugh at her words, knowing upon Yelena’s arrival to the Avengers she was eager to let it be known of her efficiency as a former member of the Red Room and how ambitious she can be in her line of work, but to her Sister and friends, she’s as soft as they come.
“Well yes, your sister, who I happened to be paired up with on a Recon Mission in December, decided that we needed to fulfil our ‘authentic American Christmas’, by watching the ‘Holiday Special’ of this series whilst we waited for Hydra to mess up and give us intel. Ever since then we’ve watched every episode, and we can mutually agree it’s the best decision we have ever made.” You playfully put it to Natasha, knowing she loves hearing the details of how well Yelena is settling into her new life away from the Red Room- the now secure life the two of them deserve.
Natasha beams at the information, relieved that Yelena is finding comfort within the Avengers, “Thank you for including her.” Natasha simply says, extremely grateful for your kindness, not only towards her, but to her little sister.
You smile at Natasha’s words, “Of course, it’s the same kindness you showed me when I first arrived at the Compound.”
Natasha rolls her eyes at your words, “Oh, believe me, it was a hard task being kind to you. You were feral.” Natasha attempts to tease you, knowing your first impressions of each other has been a running gag in your friendship for years.
You release an exaggerated gasp at her words, “Well, we both know I had Tony as my mentor so what did everyone expect to happen honestly?! I think I turned out pretty good considering my Avenger upbringing.” You lift yourself up to tuck one of your legs underneath yourself, seemingly becoming more engaged in the conversation through excitement of having Natasha close by.
Natasha pouts her lip and nods along to your words, “Sure, sure, we’ll let you believe that y/l/n.”
You quickly pick up a piece of popcorn to throw at Natasha, allowing your joyful laughs to fill the room.
Natasha easily catches the rogue piece of Popcorn, shoving it into her mouth for good measure, before bringing up the subject she has been dreading since she engaged in conversation with you, “I guess I had better grab my drink and leave you be. Goodnight, y/n.”
Your momentarily excited features drop slightly at Natasha’s words and loss of presence, you love being in her company. Majority of the time she’s the main source of happiness you can grasp at, with having some horrific events occur from your job, it’s refreshing having that comfort person you can call your friend- that person being Natasha.
Part of you also picks up on the depressed features of Natasha’s posture; usually present when something is on her mind or after a gruelling Mission.
You fail to anticipate your own moves when you hear Natasha returning from the Kitchen area of the Compound. Before you have time to think, your mouth opens up to release your next statement, “Hey, Nat. Would you like to watch a movie or something? This episode is nearly done and I’m not quite ready to go to bed yet.” You attempt to place the reasonings behind your question on yourself, hoping that if there is something Natasha wants to talk about, that she will feel comfortable enough to do so if she feels as though you invited her to hang out with yourself; rather than her having to ask.
Natasha stops her movements at your words, a flood of relief building up inside herself at your question. She desperately wanted to ask you herself, but the nipping feeling of guilt from intrusion of your alone time played on her mind so much so that she was too afraid to stay in your company.
As the overwhelming emotion of reassurance takes over Natasha, she chooses to nod at your question; failing to hide the string of grateful tears that line her exhausted eyes and knowing a waver in her voice would give away her fear of the night.
When Natasha moves to round the couch, she can’t help but smile at your effort to clear the perfect space for her to join you.
You instantly begin a clear down of the area, removing stray pieces of popcorn that somehow fell from your grasp during your Cupcake Wars marathon. You move to straighten up the charcoal tinted pillows; fluffing them up to mimic a comforting environment for Natasha to settle in to.
Once you look over your work and determine the couch to be satisfactory for Natasha, you dramatically wave for her to sit down. To which she does with an eye roll and a laugh.
As you reach for the TV remote and settle into your previous spot on the couch, Natasha sets her cup of water on the coffee table, waiting for you to choose the perfect movie for the two of you to watch together.
Though to her surprise, you stretch your arm out towards her, handing her the remote for control of the TV.
Natasha quirks a curious eyebrow at your gesture, “Y/n, what are you doing?”
You match her curious look at her question, “I want you to choose what we watch, Nat. Pick anything, I don’t mind.” You say with a comforting smile of reassurance.
Natasha hesitantly removes the remote from your outstretched hand, studying the array of buttons decorating it, “Are you sure? This is your time to-“
You interrupt Natasha, remembering the countless times she has been refused a choice on movie night, due to Tony’s unfair system of choosing the designated movie of the night- somehow it always ends up being one of his favourites…
“Natasha, I am more than positive that I want you to choose. Plus, this is our shared time to hang out, pick anything you would like.”
Natasha stares at you for a moment longer, attempting to detect a hint of change in your answer. When she realises you’re serious in your offer, she uses the the button to scroll through endless amounts of movie titles that all blend into a colourful blur after a minute or two.
That is until her eyes land on one of her comfort movies- Moonraker.
She allows the remote’s cursor to hover over the poster assigned to the James Bond movie on the list available, determining her options on how to approach asking you if this was an acceptable choice.
You soon notice the longing of the highlighted movie choice on the screen and the conflicted features crossing Natasha’s face as she has her own mental battle.
You turn yourself to gather Natasha’s attention, “Hey, is this the movie you want to watch?” You gently ask, trying not to push her in any way.
Natasha fidgets with the remote in her hands as she ponders a response, “Yeah, it’s a comfort movie. Is that okay?” She asks you calculatedly, worried you’ll reject the idea.
You reach over the back of the couch for a blanket left behind from a previous movie night, styling it out to cover yourself, “Of course it is, I’d love to watch it with you Natasha. Put it on,” You say as you tap the open space next you, alongside a lift of the blanket, intended to cover Natasha with.
Natasha wastes no time in pressing play to start the movie as she slides across the couch and into your embrace. What may seem as a small gesture to you, is a relieving gesture for Natasha.
Not only have you granted her the comfort of her go to movie of all time, but embracing her in a warm manner heightens the idea of Natasha being truly safe within the Compound.
As the two of you snuggle into the couch in anticipation of watching the movie; all the previous, dark thoughts from earlier in the night have evaded Natasha’s mind completely.
Hopefully it remains that way.
Just as the final scene of the movie commences; the end credits begin to roll out on the screen, signifying the end of the action-packed sequence.
Natasha continues to watch the screen in a dazed state, happily losing herself within the familiar scenes of Moonraker.
However, she comes back to her senses once she feels you stretch your body out from beneath her, having cuddled up to you closer and closer as the movie has played.
You quickly finish stretching your arms and legs out, you take a moment to glance at your watch and release a low whistle at the time illuminating your watch face, “Wow, 4 am already? Shit, sorry Nat, I didn’t mean to keep you up so long.” You start to push yourself up from the cushioned layer of the couch, signalling for Natasha to move up also.
As she discards the blanket aside, a wave of uneasiness settles within her. She doesn’t want to go back to bed now, she dreads to think of what horrors await her in her dreams once she closes her eyes again. She was beginning to feel safe in your company, but now you’re readying yourself to go to bed, she’s terrified that you’ll leave her alone with her thoughts.
With her endless thoughts of torment, she stares at the now blank TV in thought. You notice her vacant expression, allowing you to kneel down in front of her and gently place your hands on her knees.
Natasha jumps slightly at your touch, however she soon places her hands on top of yours to signal that your comforting efforts are welcome, “Natasha, are you ready to head back to bed?” You ask cautiously, remaining ignorant to the issue at hand.
Natasha rubs her soft hands across the delicate skin of yours as she goes to speak, “You know, we’ve still got a bit of time to hang out before the others get up. We could try some of that new tea brand Tony bought as a trial for the Team; we could watch another movie, there’s plenty of James Bond movies for you to catch up on-“
Your eyes scan Natasha’s face as she rambles out endless ways in which the two of you should stay up for a little bit longer, “Natasha-“
Natasha shakes her head as she continues her plea, desperate for you to agree with her and stay up, “Oh, I could show you how to do those Dutch braids you like in your hair. You’re always saying how much you want to learn-“
The raise in your voice throws Natasha out of her rant, unwillingly sending a pang of fear into her chest.
As you recognise the disheartening features spreading across Natasha’s persona, you make an effort to rub reassuring circles on her arms, encouraging her to relax, “What’s going on? Why are you so adamant for us to stay up?”
Natasha fails to conceal the tears that line her eyes once again, frustration making itself known, “I can’t tell you, you’ll think I’m being ridiculous.” She whispers out, not caring that you’re seeing her in what she’d consider a weakened state.
You move to sit next to her closely, wrapping a protective arm around her, “Natasha, I could never think you’re ridiculous. You’re the strongest person I know, and if something is upsetting you this much- to the point where you don’t want me to go to bed, then I want to do everything in my power to help you. I promise you, I won’t judge you, I just want to help.”
Natasha allows her tears of despair to run down her face as she looks at you, understanding the sincerity of your words. She chooses to confide in you, “Ever since I could remember, I’ve had the most horrific dreams from my time in the Red Room, and even from certain Missions. They feel so real, I hear the pain from past victims of my actions; the drilling voices of those who kept me in the Red Room and made me what I am today-“
You give Natasha the room to talk, hating the fact you didn’t pick up on her suffering sooner- though this is Natasha Romanoff, when she wants to hide something, she does so without a trace.
“Usually when I wake up, everyone else is asleep so I just wait until someone else wakes up and pretend I got up early to train or something. No one ever notices, I hide it well, just like I’ve been taught to all these years. Then tonight, you were here, and I just felt safe and secure, you just know how to make me feel calm and appreciated. I’m sorry for putting this on you y/n, I just wanted to feel safe.”
You turn away briefly from Natasha to hide your own tears upon hearing her pain, with one deep breath you move to rest your forehead on top of Natasha’s fiery red locks, “Natasha, you’re not putting anything on me okay. I mean it when I say I want to do everything in my power to make you feel safe. I understand why you wanted to stay up longer, but do you think if we go to bed in my room or something, you might feel safe enough to sleep?”
Natasha slowly lifts her head up from under yours to catch your gaze, “You’d do that for me?”
You instantly nod, “Of course I will, I’ll do anything for you Natasha.”
Natasha bites her lip at your words, never having believed she could be so lucky to have someone like you in her life, “Thank you y/n. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
You pick yourself up from the couch and hold a supportive hand out to Natasha, which she gladly takes. Once you have switched all the necessary devices off in the living area and kitchen, you guide Natasha to your bedroom, “I think I do, but you’re still going to teach me how to braid my hair right?” You question Natasha, earning a light chuckle from her.
“I suppose I can look over my very busy schedule and fit you in somewhere.” Natasha lets out, allowing the anxieties of the night to vacate her mind.
“I’m sure there’s plenty of room in your schedule for your favourite person.” You reply, mindlessly following the corridors to your designated area of the compound.
Once you arrive at your door, Natasha raises a tired yet questioning brow, “Who said you were my favourite?”
You give her a light shrug, “I just know you can’t argue with logic.”
Natasha smirks as she moves into your room, noticing the minor details scattered across the area that makes the room entirely yours, once you move to switch your bedside lamp on to highlight the features more.
Natasha stands in the middle of the room, hesitant to move anywhere without your word.
You make quick work of straightening out your bed for Natasha; hiding any loose items that are long overdue their clean up as you refuse to admit the last time your room had a good clean out.
“Okay, the bed is ready for you. I’ll take the couch-“
Natasha frowns at your words, “We’re not sharing?”
You stop your actions as you attempt to make the couch into a makeshift bed for the night, “I don’t mind taking the couch honestly, it’s… comfy.” You say in an unconvincing tone, earning an eye roll from Natasha.
“Come on, we can share the bed, I don’t bite.” Natasha says as she eagerly settles into your soft and comforting sheets.
You silently release a breath of relief, having saved your back from a rough night of sleep on the outdated couch lumbered in your room.
Once you switch off your light, you easily slide into the other side of the bed, next to Natasha. Allowing your body to relax itself into your heavenly, cushioned mattress.
Assuming the sudden silence was reserved for sleeping, you close your eyes and bask in your comforting surroundings. Until a voice fills the hushed atmosphere, “Are you still awake?”
You release a relaxed breath as you go to reply, “Yeah, are you?”
Natasha releases a laugh from beside you, “Who do you think asked you doofus.” Natasha teases.
You roll on your side to face Natasha, using the minor elements of moonlight seeping through your blinds to study Natasha’s magnificent features, “Well J.A.R.V.I.S is quite the conversationalist at night, so pardon me for being curious to whom I am addressing Romanoff.” You say in the most serious tone you can muster- extremely low severity.
Natasha smiles brightly at your lightheartedness, “Sometimes I do wonder about you y/l/n.”
You tilt your head in challenge at Natasha’s words, “Oh yeah? What do you wonder about Nat?”
Natasha’s features fall into a stoic nature as she thinks of what to say, “I wonder how someone as loving and caring as you, would willingly want to hang around with someone like me?”
Your body shifts in discomfort at her words, sensing a tone of insecurity, “Someone like you? That’s not a bad thing Natasha.”
Natasha nods at your words, “It is, y/n, I know how people see me. Some ruthless monster who’s only worth is that of being a product of the Red Room. An assassin, produced to kill without fear or hesitation-“
You abruptly push yourself up to study Natasha in disbelief, “Natasha, that’s your nightmares talking. The Natasha I know, the real Natasha is so kind, considerate and incredible. You never fail to care for those around you. Hell, I bet you’ve saved more lives being an Avenger, than lives you were forced to take under the Red Room. Natasha you’re worth so much more than a brand under the Red Room.”
Natasha looks away from you as you continue your truths, having only her nightmares confirm her greatest fears.
“Natasha, you do realise none of the past was your fault. The Red Room took you, melted your mind and melded it into something cruel. It wasn’t your fault they did that to you and it certainly isn’t your fault that they controlled you to a point where you weren’t even of a conscious mind to understand the consequences of the actions they ordered you to do.”
You gently cup Natasha’s face and instantly swipe away a pained tear escaping her eye, “You’re not a monster, you’re a hero- my hero. Nat, you inspire me to be the best Avenger I can be. You inspire so many people around the world to protect others and do what is right. If I ever hear anyone saying anything different, I’ll kick their ass.” You add for good measure, earning a dry chuckle from Natasha.
“You’re not part of the Red Room, you’re Natasha Romanoff- Avenger, Hero and quite honestly the best thing this Planet has ever given us-“
Your words of wisdom are cut off once Natasha attaches her lips to yours, fulfilling every ounce of gratitude into one delicate and addictive kiss.
As Natasha slowly pulls away, she can’t help but bite her lip in amusement at your dazed features, “You can breathe you know y/n.”
You blink extremely slowly as your mind is sent into a frenzy of pure happiness, “Um, what were we talking about?” You suddenly ask, not knowing what else to do under the current circumstances.
Natasha pulls you down onto the bed as she moves to rest her head on your chest- its rightful space, “I’m pretty sure we were talking about how you’re my favourite person?” Natasha playfully adds.
You nod along as you pull Natasha closer towards you, “Hmm, that does sound accurate.”
With a quick mumble of ‘dork’ from Natasha, the two of you settle down for a night of slumber. Finding safety and security in each other’s arms.
Soft, delicate finger tipped brushes against your rib cage wake you up from your relaxed slumber.
As your eyes flutter open, they meet ethereal green irises as they study your sleepy state.
Natasha leans up to press a gentle kiss on your forehead, allowing you to release a sigh of content at the comforting gesture, “Good morning, y/n/n.”
You sleepily smile at the sound of Natasha’s raspy voice, never failing to have your heart fluttering in excitement, “Good morning Nat, how did you sleep?” You nervously ask, hoping with every ounce of your being that she was able to rest after her nightmares.
Natasha initially responds with a glamorous smile, allowing you to replicate it to the same effect, “That was probably the best sleep I’ve had in over ten years.” She giddily lets out.
You pull her into your embrace, “No nightmares?”
Natasha nods to confirm, “No nightmares.”
You place an ecstatic kiss on the crown of her head, over the moon with the possibility that Natasha may be able to escape her nightmares.
“You know, maybe we should make this sleepover thing a permanent thing?” You ask sleepily.
Natasha hums at your words, “Well, I don’t see why not. Your bed is pretty comfortable.”
You laugh at Natasha's choice of comfort, “What about the person you’re currently cuddling?”
Natasha shrugs lightly, “I suppose they’re okay, the cuddles are a bonus.”
You smile at her words, “Well maybe I’ll have to deduct the cuddle clause from the agreement.”
Natasha tightens her grip on your body impossibly tight, “Try it and you’ll see why they say my Widow Bite Stings pack a nasty punch.”
“Oh well, we wouldn’t want to test that out.”
“Nope.” Natasha replies as she settles back into your embrace.
You allow a few seconds to pass before you bring up your next question, “What if-“
“No.” Natasha says with a flick of her fingers delivered to your forehead, eager to have you sleep in a little bit longer.
It’s safe to say that Natasha Romanoff is most definitely your favourite person.
for your holiday bash how about sub!nat being tied up shibari-style but w christmas lights!!!! could be teasing could be r just goin ham poundin away could be soft and sweet but i’ll leave that up to you:)
Flashing Lights | Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Gif not mine, credit to creator
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Gender Neutral Reader
Word Count: 2,244
Warnings: Dom!Top!Reader, Sub!Bottom!Natasha Romanoff, Rope Play-ish, Restraints, Daddy Kink, Squirting Strap-Ons, Blow Jobs | 18+ Minors DNI
Summary: You and Natasha get distracted while decorating the house for Christmas.
Cthulhus' Holiday Bash
“Look at the lights! Daddy, look!”
Even such a simple sound could never cease to make you smile. It was soft and sweet, carrying a tenderness to the tone that made you turn without a hint of hesitation. At the sight of the woman kneeling on the floor, her hands having picked up the lit lights, your heart nearly skipped a beat.
“I saw them, sweetheart,” you commented, turning back to the ornaments you put over the tree she was to decorate as well. “They’re very colorful, huh?”
At that Natasha nodded, humming as she played around with each cord carrying copious amounts of little lights, each in a different color before the pattern repeated itself. “I like the blue,” she paused. “And the pink!”
“They’re so pretty,” you placed another oversized candy cane on the tree, tilting your head to admire it before focusing on Natasha. “Just like my little puppy.”
“Stop!” She feigned anger, but truly found herself turning back to hide the growing flush upon her features that mirrored the redness from the ornaments on the tree.
Life away from the horrors of S.H.I.E.L.D., the Avengers, and even the Red Room, was far too blissful for you to humor leaving. You couldn’t help but wake up each morning with a newfound sense of pride and happiness, beaming at the redhead that would forever be nuzzled against your chest as she slept through peacefully until early hours of noon.
Christmas at your shared home was always an exciting part of the year. Natasha couldn’t easily contain her happiness, almost bouncing off the walls as she started her days running around and counting down until the 25th was right around the corner. As a means to calm her down while awaiting the special day, you kept her busy via helping you decorate the house.
There was a problem when it came to allowing Natasha to help, mostly from the way she went about decorating. Thrown into the depths of subspace given the safety blanket she had on at home, her mind was far too hazy to properly behave. It explained why she spent all her time playing around with the decorations, trying to nom and chew the fake candy canes, all while you kept her from breaking any of them accidentally.
All in all, it had been your fault when you turned to find her wrapped up entirely by the lights you begged her to set around the tree.
“Princess?” Your eyebrows were furrowed with amusement, giggling slightly before you stepped forward. “Do you need help?”
“Nope…” she trailed off, looking away as her body was entirely unmoving. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly how Natasha managed to tie herself up with the Christmas lights, but surely it was something worthy of a picture. “Are you taking a picture of me? That is so rude! I hope Santa brings you coal for Christmas, you meanie.”
“It’s not my fault you look so cute like that,” you replied. “Here, let me help. Pigs will fly before you get yourself out of this.”
You hadn’t planned for it, but as soon as Natasha let out a strangled whimper when you attempted to remove the cord around her waist, everything stopped. She begged for it once you brought up the idea, something which you could never deny the dopey redhead that jumped happily when you removed the lights from her body.
Soon enough she remained in the same kneeling position, only her red dress had been torn away alongside her thigh-high socks and underwear. All that was left was Natasha with the lights upon her body, this time them being wrapped in a proper manner to keep her in place and accentuated her curves in a way you saw fit.
“I like it,” she muttered while her bright, green eyes remained glued to the toy you had nestled over your hips, tightening the straps that she drooled over. “It’s really colorful. Hmm and it looks so yummy, daddy. Can I have it now, please?”
You finished placing the strap-on over your hips, one that you had bought to give to Natasha on Christmas day – the way in which she enticed you made it impossible to wait. There was a silliness to it, the girth, long dildo covered by a blanket of white and red that was synonymous with that of a candy-cane. It had made you laugh when you saw it, knowing immediately your girlfriend would adore it, but you never expected her to be consumed by it all.
Natasha sat still, obediently raising her eyes with her head remaining in place. The pathetic humiliation she felt, the forceful submission implanted in her mind, was all yours to control. Within the privacy of your shared home she could easily shed the mantle of the Black Widow, instead dropping to her knees with ease, flashing a smile at the one who owned her soul and experiencing the utmost amount of adoration — at home, Natasha could begin to live her life as she was meant to do so.
The lights around her body accented every inch of it. The firm breasts that hung from her chest, nipples erect and begging for even the slightest touch; the slightly muscular arms that were wrapped with the cords, wrists bound together as hands sat on her lap; all with her milky stomach and thighs bound. Frozen on the spot, Natasha longed to have you in her.
“You’re such a pretty little thing,” you mumbled, a hand cupping her face as Natasha mewled at the touch. “My beautiful puppy. Oh Natalia you and daddy are going to have so much fun together. Time to break in this special gift of yours.”
Her skin was lit up on fire as your hands found her. Breasts were squeezed as they were held in place by the lights, your fingers brushing against her hardened nipples that you quickly pinched. She could scream all she wanted, her stupidly loud cries bouncing off the walls of the room and alerting the neighbors – you didn’t care either way.
“I’m hungry,” she pouted, eyes twinkling underneath the faux light while zeroing themselves over your candy-cane strap-on. “Daddy, can I please have it in my mouth? Please. I really want your special treat. I’ll be such a good girl too, I promise.”
Pushing wild strands of her hair back, you nodded. “Of course, puppy. Here, take daddy’s cock in your mouth. Open up for me, little one.”
When such submission was bestowed upon her, the guidance you provided without looking back, Natasha’s eyes lost their focus. She stopped thinking, nothing encircling her mind as her attention landed on you. Fighting against the tightened force of the lights, the auburn-haired woman leaned in. Sticking her tongue out, her hot breath warding off any uncertainty, you urged her to lean forth. With her hungrily lapping at your cock, all you could do was stand back and watch with the ends of your mouth rising with pride.
Time came to a halt when Natasha lightly sucked the tip, her hands twisting behind her back as she went deeper. She was used to taking several inches down her throat without the need for taking a breath. Training within the Red Room was nothing compared to the pleasures of learning under your tight fisted rules.
For long, languid minutes she bobbed her head back and forth with your guidance, her parted lips taking in your length further. With her eyes watering she came to hesitate ever so often, but Natasha didn’t dare stop as you watched her with a pit of fire laying in your eyes – ready to reward the woman for her obedience.
“Such a good girl,” you husked out, hips moving slightly as you began to fuck her throat. Gargles and choking sounds filled the room, your chest fueled by the adoration you had for your partner. On her knees and all tied up, she was the perfect image of all you longed for. “You look so pretty sucking daddy’s dick. Fuck…you have no idea what you do to me, Natalia. A cock addicted baby…a sweet angel just for me to play with. You’re the best present daddy could have asked for.”
Even with your cock in her mouth, Natasha let out sounds of joy. She made it her goal to slide the strap-on deep inside until the bulbous tip hit the back of her throat, forcing a grunt from her as she pulled back. Petting a rather exuberant redhead off was much harder than you imagined, earning you a frown and an adorable huff you couldn’t help but laugh at.
“That’s it, puppy. Let go of daddy’s cock, yeah? You’ve already had enough,” you calmly stated, but Natasha wasn’t budging. You had to push her away even with all the cries of disapproval she let out. Slapping the wet dildo against one of her rosy cheeks, she became far too afraid to keep going. “I said enough. Now stay still, honey. Daddy’s just going to check up your puppy parts. I bet they’re all sticky and wet, huh?” Natasha nodded quickly at that. “Yeah? Here, let me help. I’ll make sure your pussy feels all better, Natalia.”
It is how you ended up dragging her towards the Christmas tree, forcing Natasha to kneel before it as you lined yourself up behind her. She twisted and turned, hoping to get a better view of her owner only to be forcefully made to stare at the bright lights of the fake pine tree.
Rubbing the tip of your dick against her puffy cunt, you groaned. The sight and sound of it was far too much to hold your urges back. Hugging Natasha from behind, you allowed your body to melt against her own as the two of you became one. “Oh baby you’re dripping. Is this all for me?”
“Yes daddy,” Natasha was quick to reply. Her hips had a mind of their own as she began humping the air with the ghosting of your cock against her. Poor thing couldn’t dare turn around, much less free herself as she longed for your touch. “I want you inside, please. It hurts so bad. Daddy…please? Your puppy needs you.”
At the mercy of her pleas, you were weak.
The effort it took to hold yourself back was in vain as you slammed yourself against Natasha’s backside, your cock bulging at her entrance before it immensely stretched her out. The air was coated with a breeze of yelps that you drowned out while getting drunk in her lustful aroma. Wet noises came from the manner in which her velvety walls desperately clenched around you. Her perky tits bounced as her back was arched, Natasha dealing with the repercussions of her arousal growing and being easily pumped into.
“It’s so big,” she sobbed. Craning her neck, Natasha’s tears became stricken over her viridescent eyes before dripping down her flushed cheeks. “Daddy you cock is- ah!”
Thrusting yourself in and out, you groaned. “I know, sweetheart. You’ll be a good pup and take it, right? Don’t you want to make your daddy proud? Good girls take their daddies’ cocks without complaining. I thought you were my obedient puppy.”
“I am!” As she attempted to keep her cool, her walls were torn down underneath the blanket of pleasure you offered. Soon enough, all you had was a shaking redhead in your arms that was all too well tied up to move a muscle. “Your good girl, ‘m your good girl!”
For what felt like tediously long hours you took claim of Natasha’s body. Her juices dripped over the hard-wood floor, making a mess she’d be made to clean up with her tongue. Your strong hands caught her jumping breasts, squeezing tight as you pinched erect nipples before exploring her body mixed with the lights. Groping her continuously, you made it impossible for Natasha to exist without requiring her relief.
As she came undone, you pulled out much to her dismay. Her inner walls contracted around nothingness until you gripped the silicone length that drooled with her juices. When white drops spurted into her pussy, Natasha’s tongue stuck out as though she could taste the deliciously perverted treat you saved for her.
Fucking yourself into her, you didn’t waste a second. The Black Widow herself was broken apart as you stuffed her cunt to the brim. She was full with your seed, small drops leaking out as you slammed yourself inside, never allowing her to catch her breath as you coerced her to take it all without complaints.
“So full…” she muttered, eyelids growing heavy as you held her up. With the back of her head pressed against your shoulder, Natasha gave you a goofy smile. “Thank you, daddy. That felt really good. Thank you for taking care of your puppy.”
You remained inside her cunt, kneeling still as you plastered sweet kisses all over Natasha’s shoulders waiting for her to catch her breath. “Of course, my pretty girl. Now it’s time to get you all cleaned up before we finish up here. Do you want to help daddy bake chocolate chip cookies for the team?” A giddy nod was enough to give you her answer. “Good girl. And Merry Christmas, baby. Remember to behave for daddy if you want to stay away from the naughty list. I hear Santa gives bad girls punishments instead of coal…”
Natasha: You spent all our money on THIS??
Y/N, putting tiny raincoats on ducklings: They live outside. They need this.
Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Word Count: 3.4k
A/N: You're Natasha's oldest friend.
When you first met Natasha, she had blue hair.
She was awkward, limbs growing faster than she knew what to do with. Still skinny enough to be drowning in a band t-shirt that needed the sleeves rolled up.
You were the new kid at school. You were even more awkward.
On your first day, you saw her sitting alone at lunch. The cafeteria was overwhelmingly busy, seats at every other table were being fought over. You tried to keep your chin up as you walked the length of Natasha’s empty table, sliding onto the stool across from her.
Natasha’s head snapped up from her book at your arrival. It was a beaten up paperback, spine folded back on itself.
‘Any good?’ You asked cheerfully, if a little desperately. Just one friend. That’s all you needed. The other children made wide berths around you in the corridors, as if you were more alien than stranger.
Natasha seemed frustrated by your inquiry. She closed her book quickly and stuffed it back in her bag. She stared down at her half eaten peanut butter sandwich, purposefully avoiding your nervous smile.
You didn’t know what you’d done wrong.
‘Sorry.’ You muttered, heat flaming your cheeks.
You started to bounce your leg anxiously under the table. You picked at your own sandwich. You weren’t hungry, but you didn’t want to look even weirder than you already were.
A lump caught in your throat as you looked across the rest of the cafeteria. You felt jealous of the easy banter between the other large groups of students. You wished that it could be you. That you could fit in, just this once.
‘Sometimes, they steal my books.’ Natasha said unexpectedly. Her voice was carefully even. She tightened her loose grip on the strap of her backpack.
You glanced back out at the sea of students. Their playful banter had a mocking edge to it that you hadn’t noticed before.
‘That sucks.’ You answered fiercely.
Natasha rolled her eyes casually, taking another bite of her sandwich and retrieving her book again. You took a deep breath, settled by her nonchalance.
You felt hungrier and refocused on your lunch. As you ate, you zeroed in on a group of girls across the room. They were laughing as they ripped pages slowly from another beaten up book. Your mouth opened in shock.
‘They’re the worst.’ Natasha spoke up again, casually following your gaze. Her tone was dismissive.
You didn’t speak. You stared at your fingers as they twisted together atop the plastic table. Anxiety rolled through you.
None of these kids seemed to like you. You weren't even sure that you wanted them to. The next few years of education stretched before you ominously.
Suddenly, you felt a plastic wrapper graze along your forearm. You startled and looked up. Natasha pushed the chocolate bar across to you with her fingertips.
‘My mom always packs two.’ She informed you with a shy shrug.
One of the kids at this school liked you.
You smiled again.
‘I like your blue hair.’ You blurted as you took the chocolate bar.
Natasha’s cheeks tinged pink. You caught the way she lifted her chin up when she next met your eyes.
‘Thanks.’ She mumbled, awkwardly offering out her hand to shake. ‘My name’s Natasha.’
Natasha was your first friend. For a long time, she was your only one.
Then, one day she was no one at all.
You didn’t see her again until 2012.
When your best friend had gone missing, the stories that swarmed the neighbourhood were unbelievable.
There had been no warning from the family. No phone number, no forwarding address.
The first rumour was that loan sharks were after Natasha’s Dad.
Then, men in suits came knocking on the neighbours’ doors. The rumours shifted to something more criminal; money laundering, fraud.
Bullies at school laughed at you. The joke was that you’d somehow scared off the second weirdest kid in school. You grieved Natasha’s disappearance alone.
You sat through classes silently, dreaming up a hundred reasons to justify why Natasha might leave you behind in a place like this.
Nothing could have been more far-fetched than the truth.
A super spy.
You were watching the live news broadcast when New York was attacked. Everyone was.
You stared at raw footage of an alien race invading the planet. Nothing could be more shocking, you thought. And then, you saw the Avengers.
Natasha did not look the same.
No more awkward and gangly, no more blue hair.
It was the familiar tilt of her chin as she stared up at a passing spacecraft that jolted your memory.
You knelt in front of your TV, trying to get closer to the impossible picture.
Two days later, the city officials held a large press conference. It was hosted on the first floor of the new Stark Tower. Steve Rogers and Tony Stark were in attendance.
Tony Stark called her ‘Red’ off-handedly.
That’s what gave you the idea.
There was nothing else you could think to do anyway. Natasha Romanoff had the shortest Wikipedia entry you’d ever seen.
You addressed a letter to Stark Tower in the hopes that it might reach her. It was beyond a long shot, but you had to try.
It was hard to explain the national feeling of adrenaline that lingered after the attack. It almost seemed like sure fate that Natasha would reply. Impossible odds were being beaten all the time.
It was not that simple.
It took six months for you to hear a response.
Your phone buzzed in the middle of the night with a text.
Despite the late hour, the text was carefully constructed.
You used to be able to read Natasha’s nervousness a mile off. When her Dad called her home early. When the teacher called her out for exceptional work in class. When you asked her favourite Christmas present and she stumbled over the answer.
‘Thanks for reaching out.’ She began, formal with her friendliness. ‘I do remember you and I appreciated your letter. We should meet up soon.’
The text sounded distant, but you felt certain that she wouldn't have sent it if she hadn’t wanted a response.
You tried to picture the woman that you’d seen on television, but all you could think of was the blue haired girl.
Despite everything that had happened. Natasha was still Natasha.
You called her.
She answered after two rings. Vindication rippled over your skin, you were right.
‘Hi.’ Natasha breathed out.
Her voice rasped unfamiliarly.
Your heart twisted as you heard all the years that had passed.
Natasha Romanoff was an adult now.
‘I’ve missed you so much.’ You told her before you had time to think.
You heard her muted surprise in shallow breaths.
‘I missed you too.’ She murmured after a moment. There was a pang of emotion in her voice, you could feel it down the phone. ‘You were my best friend.’
Your stomach swooped strangely at her words.
You tried to play off the feeling. You sighed with mock dramatics.
‘Now, you prefer the Hulk right?’ You teased.
‘Oh yes.’ Natasha hummed, picking up the easy pattern of your teenage conversations. ‘He’s much better company.’
You talked for twenty minutes, mixing nostalgia with light inquiries about her new life.
Before the call ended, Natasha invited you to visit her in New York.
It was an easy answer to give.
When you hung up the phone, you held it close to your chest for a moment. The room was beginning to grow light with the dawn outside.
Natasha was not an awkward teenager anymore.
She waited for you in the entrance of Stark Tower, dressed casually in leggings and a hoodie.
It was unnerving. She was almost familiar to you.
Your eyes met as you entered through the glass front doors.
Natasha hugged herself, playing with the grey fabric of her hoodie.
You remembered the nervous gesture. You wondered if she still had the habit, or if she’d just remembered it because of you.
You sensed her uncertainty as you got closer. You opened your arms for a hug and she looked grateful for the direction.
She fit perfectly.
Your eyes filled with tears as her arms tightened around you.
When Natasha pulled away, she gave you a confused look.
You shook your head, swallowing down the lump in your throat.
‘I always hoped you were okay.’ You mumbled, wiping your cheeks, embarrassed at how quickly you’d gotten emotional. ‘I’m so glad you’re alive.’
Natasha’s eyes shuttered with a sudden blankness. She tried to shake it away too.
‘No-one’s ever said that to me before.’ She murmured under her breath, before leading you back to the Tower’s elevators.
You pondered her words during the silent elevator ride. Natasha’s life was clearly full of danger. She was on the front line of extra-terrestrial defence. She’d fought monsters on live tv.
You thought of the fake American Mom and Dad you’d been introduced to. You thought of the little sister, who had seemed so devoted to Natasha.
Now noone was praying for Natasha to come home safe.
In the elevator you took her hand, squeezing it gently.
Natasha looked at you, eyes crinkling with simple happiness. She squeezed back.
‘Red hair suits you.’ You commented. ‘But, I preferred the blue.’
Natasha rolled her eyes with mock exasperation. The elevator doors opened.
The space was obviously built to be a common area, but it was empty now.
Natasha led you through the middle of it.
You entered her room, following behind her. You stopped in the doorway, trying to take it in.
As a teenager, Natasha’s bedroom had been wall-to-wall with bright posters. In contrast, this room seemed almost clinically blank.
A single piece of understated art hung on the far away wall. The bedspread was pristine white, like a hotel.
Your eyes clung to the only piece of personality in the room. A stack of CDs and a CD player lay on the hardwood floor, next to the largest window you’d ever seen. You recognised the top CD’s cover art immediately; Nevermind by Nirvana.
You looked at Natasha in surprise. It had been her favourite album when you’d last known her.
Natasha met your gaze readily. There was a glint of defiance in the tilt of her chin.
‘Oh, so you still have good taste.’ You grinned.
There was a pause. Natasha’s lip twitched with the start of a smile. Then, she hugged herself again.
‘I loved those songs.’ Natasha murmured, and her sudden fragility startled you. ‘It was the best time.’
Her eyes were careful, but you felt the emotion hiding in them. You moved forward again, hugging her instinctively.
‘The best time.’ You agreed quietly.
You spent the afternoon listening to the album, then another one, then another. The CD collection was well played. Sometimes the disc would catch for a moment, but the song would always persevere.
You didn’t feel the need to talk.
Natasha sprawled out on her bed, head cupped in her hands as she faced you. You sat on the windowsill by the music, leaning your head against the glass and watching her in return.
You exchanged smiles back and forth. You exchanged memories of the songs with just a twitch of an eyebrow or the quirk of a lip.
Natasha’s finger tapped at the side of her jaw absentmindedly.
Eventually, time moved on. When one more album finished playing, Natasha swung her legs over the side of her bed and stretched casually. You didn’t believe the nonchalance for a second, sure that such a smooth gesture must take forethought.
‘Dinner?’ She asked and you nodded with a smile, ready and terrified to meet her roommates.
Captain America offered you a bowl of pasta.
The weirdest day of your life only got weirder. The other Avengers were sitting around the large flat-screen television in the centre of the common space. Natasha picked her feet up as she stepped around their legs, heading to the furthest away sofa.
You followed behind her, muttering quiet hellos in answer to the openly curious stares of Iron Man, Hawkeye and Dr. Banner.
Natasha tucked her legs in as she sat at the furthest edge of the sofa.
Automatically, you followed a habit that had been established years before. You threw yourself casually into the space directly next to her. Your fork snuck over to her bowl of pasta, stealing a piece. You tasted it and grinned.
‘Yours is always better.’ You complained, watching as Natasha stuck her tongue out in response.
You only remembered your audience when Tony Stark cleared his throat.
‘Did she tell you that she’s a ruthless assassin.’ He stated loudly, receiving a not-so-subtle elbow jab from Captain America.
‘What?’ Tony retorted, rubbing his side pointedly. ‘She’s never brought a date home before. And there must be a reason she’s called the Black Widow.’
You watched Natasha from the corner of your eye; the sudden embarrassment spilling over her face. The shame that lingered for a split second.
‘Not all names are literal.’ You answered bitingly, feeling an old defensive urge flaring. There had been enough bullies going after Natasha when you were in high school. ‘We don’t call you Micro-Penis Man, do we?’
Hawkeye snorted with laughter, Dr. Banner’s lip twitched.
‘Clever.’ Tony drawled sarcastically.
You ignored him, turning back to Natasha instead. Her expression was unreadable as she searched your face. You didn’t know what she was looking for.
'Hey.' You whispered, keen to break the unspoken tension between you. 'If they call you Red, can I call you Blue?'
Natasha's lips twitched imperceptibly with a smile. She leaned across your lap, stealing a piece of pasta from your plate.
You sat in silence for the rest of your meal, watching the generic movie on screen instead of engaging in more awkward conversation with the group. Natasha's shoulder bumped lightly against your own.
More than once, you felt the others' curious stares lingering on you.
As soon as you’d both finished eating, Natasha led you back to her room. This time, the air inside felt different. You caught the loosening of her shoulders, her subtle relief at returning to her own space. She unzipped her hoodie, throwing it haphazardly on top of her bedspread.
You glanced back around the room, realising abruptly that the design wasn’t clinical at all. It was more reminiscent of a spa.
You caught Natasha’s attention and gave her an encouraging smile.
‘Nice digs.’ You commented, raising your eyebrows.
Natasha laughed once, voice so much richer than you remembered. She ran her fingers through her hair and your attention caught on the muscles flexing in her bare arm.
‘It’ll do.’ She shrugged teasingly. ‘It’s nicer than Ohio.’
You sniffed dramatically. ‘But there're alien attacks in Ohio.’
‘Just Russian infiltration.’ Natasha countered dryly. An unexpected shiver ran through you as she finally acknowledged the unspoken truth. Of the childhood friendship that had brought you here and the lie at the centre of it.
A hot sadness bubbled up inside you. You could taste it burning your throat. Your eyes pricked suddenly with tears.
Natasha watched you stoicly, chin tilted in guarded defiance.
You moved toward her, watching as she resisted an urge to step further back. You took her hands in yours. You blinked and for a moment, her hair was blue.
‘I’m going to say this wrong.’ You explained ruefully, holding her wide eyed attention. Her palms were warm, soft and nearly familiar.
‘I’m on your side.’ You promised clumsily. ‘Even if you decide to join the aliens. Even if you don’t want me to be. You didn’t ever stop being my best friend.’
You waited for an evaluating stare, a moment of hesitation.
Instead, you felt the soft push of Natasha’s head pressing against your shoulder. Her body moved flush against yours. Your arms slid around her back and you felt the curve of her spine beneath her clothes. The thud of her heart, hidden within a ribcage.
You closed your eyes, savouring the warmth of her.
‘There’s a spare room ready.’ Natasha murmured at last, words muffled. ‘But you're welcome to just stay in here.’
She kept her chin high as she took a step back, regarding you expectantly.
You let a wide smile break out on your face.
‘A sleepover? On a school night?’ You teased, enjoying the way your enthusiasm brightened Natasha’s countenance too.
Later, you changed into your pyjamas in Natasha’s ensuite bathroom. You brushed your teeth and stared at yourself for a few minutes in her large mirror.
You wondered how different you must look to her now. If she noticed all the traces of growing up laid out on your skin.
Natasha was beginning to feel eternal. The red hair was growing on you.
You left the bathroom and froze almost immediately in your tracks.
Natasha was standing at the foot of her bed, putting on her pyjama top. It was halfway over her head and the bare expanse of her back faced you.
You couldn’t stop your sharp intake of breath.
Hundreds of scars littered her soft curves.
Harsh, deep welts that hurt to look at. Natasha's skin was mottled in places, coated with different shades of injury. Some scars were older, but others seemed painfully new.
They criss-crossed into a brutal painting, brushstrokes feverishly ripped across her skin.
A sharp sense of outrage was already burning through you. A sour taste in your mouth. A need to fix what had already been done.
Natasha's hesitation barely lasted a second. She pulled her top down calmly, before turning to face you with steady resolve.
‘I’m not that kid anymore.’ She told you with simple directness.
Natasha kept her chin up as you walked closer to her. You noticed the slight tremble in her jaw when you were only inches away. She held her arms still at her side and you wondered if she was resisting the urge to hug herself. Instead, defensiveness rippled through her. A readiness to hold onto her dignity.
You had seen that stance many times before, in the high school cafeteria.
For the first time, you realised that Natasha did not remember you like you remembered her. She could not recall the simplicity of life with teenage drama and stupid crushes.
A lifetime of trauma sat between you. There was no before or after for Natasha.
She’d had scars long before she’d had blue hair.
There were no words for your new understanding. No way to express it right. Your chest squeezed with something like love or sadness.
‘I know.’ You answered her at last.
You touched Natasha’s face without thinking, a careful stroke along her cheek. Your fingers reached her red hair and you thumbed a piece of it reverently.
When you looked back to her face, Natasha’s eyes were closed.
Your kiss was feather light. Your lips barely brushed hers.
The taste of her stained your mouth anyway.
You felt new pieces of yourself click together, reorienting like a compass finding North.
Natasha’s eyes fluttered open and her smile was new and shy. You still saw the fear lingering at the edge of everything. You chose not to mind it. You were glad to be able to recognise it.
You slept in the same bed that night with Natasha holding your arm lightly between her own two.
Her even breaths lulled you with their gentle rhythm. Loose strands of her hair tickled at your clavicle.
You stared at the ceiling and thought about intimacy. About love and friendship.
The tattoo of Natasha on your lips was spreading through your veins now.
At 3am, the alarm sounded.
Sudden and pounding, it echoed through the ceiling. A droning tempo that had you scrambling to your feet.
Natasha grabbed your arm tiredly, slowing your sleepy confusion.
‘Avengers alarm.’ She informed you, voice crisp and clear. 'There's no fire.'
You felt like you’d barely had time to blink before a dressed Natasha Romanoff was walking out the door.
All the words you wanted to say were still on your tongue.
Four hours spent pacing the common room. Watching an unhelpful news broadcast tell you terrifying speculation and hoping the building’s AI would give you something useful.
Four hours imagining the worst. Four hours praying for her to come home.
When the elevator doors opened at last, Natasha stood alone, suit coated in grime and blood. She held her chin up, defiant in the face of fatigue. You watched the way she hugged herself subtly, a nervous habit.
You were beside yourself.
‘Thank God’ You muttered as you hurried forward, pulling Natasha into a tight hug. You breathed the familiar smell of her and held her even tighter.
‘I'm so glad you're alive.’ You whispered, more for yourself than for her.
When you let her go, Natasha took a moment to look at you properly.
‘You were waiting.’ Natasha commented slowly, her gaze never wavering.
You nodded silently, a lump catching in your throat. You couldn’t understand her expression. You wondered with new panic, if you’d crossed some line without realising.
If you'd finally made an assumption based on the girl you'd once known, rather than the woman in front of you.
You forgot about thinking when Natasha took another step towards you. Her hand touched your waist. With one finger, she reached forward and tilted your chin towards her.
She licked her lips, full of intentionality.
Her mouth pressed surely against yours.
When you fell in love with Natasha, she had red hair.
@wonderingnerd @eonrioromanova @nothotsheadmilf @whofan88 @lostandsearching @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo
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Y/N: who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl? You are Sushi. Youuu.
Clint: Ohh a dog! Lucky could play with her. You named her Sushi?
Y/N: Nah she was already named even before i got her.
Steve: A dog! Neat! Is she friendly? Can i touch?
Y/N: why don’t you go ahead and find out?
Natasha: Ugh a dog.
Y/N: the fucks wrong with my dog?
Natasha: It’s a dog.
Y/N: a dog that will replace your space in my bed if you keep that up.
Nat: Go to sleep Y/N. You too Tony
*Y/N and Tony in the lab clearly in dire need of sleep*
Y/N: what? I just woke up. Tony just woke up too, right, Tony?
*Tony in and out of sleep pouring whiskey in a glass*
Tony: Yup I just- *falls*
Nat: You we’re saying ?
Y/N: that’s just him though. I’m perfectly fine. I took a power nap 5 minutes ago.
Nat: Really ?
*Tony getting up from his power nap on the floor*
Tony: Yes really, and if you count the power naps we’ve take this month you would know that I’ve gotten 15 minutes of sleep and Y/N has gotten… Y/N?
Y/N *smirking triumphantly*: 10 full minutes of sleet
*Y/N passes out*
Tony: If you can’t hang with the big dogs stay on the porch Y/N.
*Tony passes out as well*
Nat: I have to take care of everyone, don’t I?