#natasha romanoff x you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wandasfifthwife · 3 days

Text

patience is a virtue₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺

—wandanat x fem/afab!reader

༺ tw || SMUT MDNI, dom/sub dynamic, dom!wandanat & sub!reader, top!wandanat & bottom!reader, strap (r receiving | w giving), grinding, praise kink?, some impact play (one spanking lmao), overstim, packing (w), giving head (w’s strap | r giving), reader’s described to be shy, not proofread

༺ a/n || I’ve never personally been in a dom/sub relationship, so if I get things wrong that’s why! If you’re getting into one— don’t use this as a guide/reference

— masterlist ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ 2.6kwords₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺ next part —

It was dark in the room, a light blue light peeking in keeping it every so often from the curtains being blown around by the AC. You were wide awake, having squirming around for maybe twenty minutes. Neither of them had work, and neither did you. It was a Saturday, a holiday weekend. None of you had work today or tomorrow for that matter.

Wanda was incredibly quiet, the position she’s in extremely similar to the one she had fallen asleep in. Natasha’s the opposite; breathing heavily into the bed with one limb touching you or Wanda at all times. Meaning, most nights you slept behind Natasha, her back facing you so you’re not getting forcefully wrapped. Her embrace is lovely, but not when it’s making your temperature rise over 90° degrees.

She’s still somehow found herself curling around you, her leg resting above yours; the second you’ve begun to pull your leg free, she’s pushing off the bed. She’s obviously half asleep, but her eyes brows are furrowed, concern laced in her expression.

“Why’re you up so early, Kit? It’s like 6:30.”

You check and she’s right, the clock reading 6:27. She’s waiting, eyes heavy but still trying to stay open. You’re not sure why. Too much time goes by, her arms pulling you down into her hold.

“Go back to sleep.”

“But I’m not tired—“

She shushes you, “sleep. It’s too early.”

You try to knock her arms away, growing fidgety when her fingers inch closer to where you’re ticklish. It turns into a bit of a brawl, unfortunately with Natasha winning despite being half awake.

“Why’re you guys up,” Wanda asks, exhaustion seeping into her tone, “if you’re going to be loud, take it into the living room.”

You begin to feel bad, understanding that she had gotten back late last night. Natasha had set a bath after your little event yesterday morning. The only time you saw her was when she had come to say her goodbyes and when she crawled into bed.

You don’t remember much of the day, having fallen asleep an hour after your warm bath. The excessive sleep might be why you were up so early on your own.

“Sorry.”

“You’re fine, just keep it down.”

Natasha ends up staying awake, sitting dazed in the living room. Her hair, usually set in a braid when she sleeps, was unraveled; the wavy hair framing her face also fell into yours from where your head rested on her shoulder.

“I still don’t forgive you for this,” you emphasize your words, sliding your finger down your neck to press on the darkened mark.

“Good.”

You laugh when she noses at your neck, pressing a light kiss to the opposite side of where the mark lay. You can’t help but to shiver, the feeling of her lips and the cold affecting you.

“Aww, are you cold?”

“No,” you mumble, but accept her tighter hold with greed, fingers gripping into her sleep shirt. It was then that your stomach decided to break the moment, embarrassing you.

“We could grab breakfast while Wanda finished sleeping in. There’s a restaurant Wanda and I like just down the road.”

“Oh, sure, I’d love to.”

It was even colder outside, the lack of sun causing the cold to manifest its self everywhere. You had Natash’s coat wrapped around you, given to you by her since she fretted over your less than warm coat.

The wind blew, making you shiver and push faster to keep up with Natasha. Her ability to exude warmth even in 50° weather amazes you. She holds the door for you, slipping a hand by your waist once you’ve entered. The gesture making you nervous, focusing entirely too much on her hand’s placement and not the menu in front of you.

It was cute inside, the menu written in chalk behind the counter. Small plans lined the counters and walls, creating a honey vibe. All of these details went unnoticed to you until Natasha’s fingers pinch at your skin.

“What’s got you so spacey, hm?”

“Sorry,” you turn your gaze away, the puffy fabric of her coat ruffling with your movement.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Oh look! We’re next to order.”

Natasha glances forward, “there’s two more people.”

“Oh oops, I haven’t decided what I want yet.”

She lets it go, moving in front when your time to order comes. You pull at her shirt after, feeling the need to get the guilt off your chest after seeing her pay for your food.

“You don’t have to keep paying for me, I really am thankful but I have my own job for a reason.”

She’s putting her wallet back in her pocket, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “and there’s also a reason why I’m here with you. Let me care for you.”

“I know,” you lead on, “but this is money you’ve worked hard for. It’s not free like everything else.”

“Am I going around kissing everyone on the street?”

“What? No.”

“Exactly.”

You huff, a smile on your face when though you wish it weren’t there. In response to her buying, you offer to bring it back. She denied at first before letting you help seeing as it brought a smile to your face.

Wanda was in a similar state to how Natasha looked when you came back, eyes half lidded when you both enter. She smiles at the sight, “you two are cute, did you go to that breakfast place?”

“We did, I got something for you to.”

She places it front of her before walking by towards the shower, leaving you with Wanda. She gestures for you, showing you the screen on her phone. An event at a nearby art center, where they were displaying an exhibition.

“I can buy tickets if you’d like to go, I remember you mentioning art school when we first met.”

It was crazy that you first met them just over a week ago when the moments you had with them lately felt like you’ve known them forever. They walked with you back to your house, stopping by momentarily for you to pick up a few things seeing as you’ve all decided you’ll be staying the weekend.

The event wasn’t until later, around dinner time. When the sun had begun to set you three left from their apartment seeing as it was closer to three museum. Wanda’s shadow stands above you, grabbing your attention.

“At the museum there’ll be some ground rules, alright?”

You glance up from putting your shoes on, “okay.”

“Look at me. Don’t run off without at least one of us beside you—there’ll be a lot of people.”

You nod and she continues, “and I know you’re good for us, but if we ask you to move somewhere, I advise you it’s best to listen and not talk back.”

You welcome the kiss from her after, leaning towards her when she pulls away. Her thumb rubs your cheek, “later, if you’re good.”

Her words are a faint whisper, eliciting a response from you. She smiles at your compliance, calling out to Natasha.

It wasn’t difficult to stay close to them, the large crowds making you anxious. The exhibit was beautiful, the paintings and art pieces a contrast from the cream colored walls. Some were simple, paintings showing a lovely landscape. Some were abstract, multiple colors and shades painting a vibrant picture. Wanda preferred to read the manuscript beside each painting, taking her time throughout the exhibit. Natasha was more intrigued by your conversations, learning about each painting through audible description.

There was a section you hadn’t visited, the one on the third level. It was the one you were most looking forward to, the main room you were looking forward to. With how slow Wanda was navigating the room next to the exhibit, you were being driven up the wall. You wonder if she knew. The speed she had feeling like it was slowing down as you got to the end of the room. That’s when you’ve begun to grow impatient. You tried to be appreciative, but you were burnt out and your back was beginning to ache from standing so straight. Wanda had been keeping a hand on your back throughout the night, tapping when she felt you’ve started to slouch again. A faint whine reaches her ear. The expression on your face tired but guilty once she’s looks over at you.

“Hmm?”

“Can we move faster?”

“No, lm having a nice time looking around this room.”

“Then can Natasha and I go together?”

“To that one,” she asks, pointing across the hall to the room you’ve been eyeing the past twenty minutes, “that’s what we came for, kitten. Wait until I’ve finished so we can all go together.”

“No,” you whine, but it’s cut short immediately.

“Do you want to go home?”

“No.”

“Then cut that out now.”

You stop whining, but your impatience still makes its appearance in other ways. You try to distract yourself by talking with Natasha, pulling on Wanda’s arm to make her move faster once she’s reached the last artwork in the room. Each work she reads off the plaque felt like it’s being read in 0.25 speed, not a single word went unread. Your nails were pushing into Natasha’s arm, plastering a smile on your face when Wanda looks back at you. There’s a knowing look on her face; the pained look on Natasha’s face and your tense body language says everything.

“I’m ready to move on,” she finally says.

You and Natasha both sigh in relief for different reasons. Wanda laughs, patting your back as she walks down the hallway.

Your nails unhook themselves from Natasha’s arm, feeling guilty at the nail prints.

“Sorry,” you mumble, rubbing at the marks, “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s fine,” she brings a finger to rub at where you’ve attempted to hide her mark, the faint touch making you shiver.

It seems nice at first, getting to the exhibit you’ve been waiting for. You have had a lovely time, but everything faded away after Wanda had praised you. Her words were spoken close to your ear, words laced with lust, stating how she’s going to reward you. This time you were squirming for something else, impatience burning inside you along with something else. Curiosity.

The second their apartment door was opened, Wanda was on you. She had you up against the wall, the one directly across from the front door. A hand was holding your thigh, hooking it around her waist, allowing her to push further into you. You find it was all intentional when she grinds her hips against yours, pulling a gasp from you when you realize.

“Wands—“

She cuts you off with a slap your thigh, “try again.”

“Mommy,” you say and she nods, willing you to continue, “is that—?”

Her smile is an answer, cold fingers slide under your shirt, circling around to squeeze your ass. You keen, body sliding against hers.

“Get on your knees,” she breathes, pulling away from you.

The sight of looking up at her is pulling the air from your lungs. She’s silently demanding you keep your eyes on her with how tight she’s holding your chin.

“Pat my thigh twice if you need to stop, alright?”

“Yes mommy.”

She moans, making quick work of undoing the belt wrapped around her waist with one hand, her other leaning over you. Her belt falls to the floor, the clanging noise making you squeeze your eyes shut. The feeling of her tapping the tip against your bottom lip brings a blush to your cheeks.

“Open your lips, kitten.”

You do, the feeling of her pushing in has your head hitting the wall behind you. She’s enjoying the sight of you, eyebrows tied together, hands shyly hovering over her thighs. She keeps a hand on her waist, pushing and starting a rhythm that has you moaning. You’re a mess under her, head resting against the wall, jaw relaxed to take her comfortably. Your sounds are muffled around her length, choked and gasping.

She’s deciding it’s enough when tears spill from your eyes. Your chin glistens, lips swollen from her ministrations and it’s all driving her crazy. She’s helping you off the floor, dusting your knees off before carrying you to the bedroom. You’re in a koala hold, legs wrapped around her waist.

“Feel how wet you made it,” she sweet talks, pulling your bottom half off the bed, “it’s all because of you.”

You whine, gripping onto her wrists that lie beside your head. She pecks your lips, “please tell me you’ll say whenever you feel in pain, or uncomfortable, or if you need to stop?”

“I will,” you breathe, “I promise.”

She lines up before pushing her hips forward, eyes growing cloudy at the sounds you make as she bottoms out. You wince when it pushes up, her size stretching you out still.

She runs a finger around where you meet, “you’re so tight around me.”

Her hips jerk unexpectedly, pressing against a spot that makes you see white. You’re whining, begging her to move with a push of your legs around her waist.

Your moans echos throughout the room, loud and airy. Natasha’s been in the shower long than usual, fingers moving in circles around her clit at your pretty sounds. Unbeknownst to her Wanda’s doing the same for you, a thumb rubbing against your bud until you feel you’re about to blackout.

“Mommy—please can I?”

“Yes,” it’s a simple response but it’s all you’re needing to hear, a choked whimper bubbling out from your throat as you’ve been brought to the edge.

Wanda flips you over, not giving you a moment and pressing your face into the mattress with the force of each thrust. You couldn’t help but to cry out into the sheets, the pleasure she brought on overwhelming you.

“Mommy!”

“Mm, you’re taking it so well. I’m so proud, you want to make me proud, right?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you gasp, reaching a hand to grip at the sheets above your head, pushing back against her. The pleasure from your orgasm before increases each time her tip presses deeper into you.

“Please, please—I’m going to again.”

“Beg.”

“Mommy, please let me come. I’ve been good.”

Natasha comes to sit by the edge, a towel thrown tied across her body. She’s thankful for leaving when she did, it was the perfect time to watch you come a second time, body writing from the pleasure overwhelming your body.

Natasha brushes the tears from your eyes, hoping to distract you from Wanda pulling out.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Hold me?”

She complies, not caring about the thin shine on your body despite having just finishing a shower. It was only a “shower” anyways.

She’s holding you until Wanda’s finished throwing on a large shirt, clothes from before thrown into the hamper. Natasha passes you over so she can do the same, leaving to step inside their closet.

“Shh, you did so good.”

She runs a hand down your arm, smiling at the goosebumps forming from her touch. You’re out of breath, forehead leaning against her cold chest to fight the heat wrapped around your body.

“Would you like to take a shower, a bath?”

“A showers fine,” you respond, voice raspy.

You both actually ended up taking a shower because your legs shook when you tried to stand. Wanda was concerned you’d slip, especially seeing how your hips swayed. She spares you any teasing, carefully walking you into the bathroom.

“People are going to know you two mess with me,” you speak up from your place in the bathtub, watching Wanda brush her hair in front of the mirror.

“They might. Is this something you’re worried about?”

“Yeah,” you circle the water around your finger, “I love it, I’m just shy showing it to others.”

“And that’s alright. Not everyone will get it as good as you do, you don’t have to be shy.”

“Oh. Okay well that’s—“

— masterlist ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊taglist below₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺ next part —

@simpforlizzie @maggieromanov @angelbeingatitspurest @cerberus-spectre @olicity-boo @huggingkoalas @wandasbunnyy @babykingslayer @marigoldenblooms @godhatesgoodgirls @evmaximoff @tobiaslut @lzzysfreak @caporaI-nino @mommysfavouritegirl @gemz5 @dorabledewdroop @foxherder @madamevirgo @natashaswife4125 @peaceitsnaee @radcherryblossompainter @sagesayshi @andersonsprincess @wandanat01

325 notes · View notes

ilovesnat · 2 days

Text

You: I'm cold.

Nat: Here's my jacket.

You: I'm cold.

Nat: Here's my hoodie.

You: I'm cold.

Nat: Here's a hug.

credits to @milanocookiesandivyprofen :)

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff incorrect quotes #black widow x reader #black widow x y/n #marvel

187 notes · View notes

wandaspup · 2 days

Text

Imagine Natasha slamming you against the wall, pressing her lips against yours so messily as she bites your bottom lip. She moves down your next and kisses all over your neck, her hot breath hovering your skin. She lifts you up and you’re in a dress for easy access. You can hear her unbuckling her belt and pulling out her hard big cock ready to stuff you full. Her biceps flex and her jeans hang low off her ass as she fucks you silly, sweet groans fill the room.

“Oh fuck baby so fucking tight….you like bouncing on my fat cock.”

#g!p natasha #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x fem!reader #daddy natasha #i have sinned #i do not care #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x y/n #dark natasha romanoff

192 notes · View notes

arlana-likes-to-write · 1 day

Note

Can you do a Natasha x fem Reader based off wildest dreams by Taylor Swift? The idea I had was something like R and Nat having feelings for each other and then end up kissing or something a one of Tony’s (Tony is R’s dad) parties. They end up have a secret relationship because R is scared to come out to the team and especially her dad. But they end getting caught by Thor who accidentally tells Tony and the team at a dinner or something. But there’s a happy ending

Note: I do apologize but I kind of changed the ending on this but I do hope you enjoy it.

Warning: secret relationship, reader is closeted for the beginning, kissing, angst with a happy ending, drinking, self-doubt, miscommunication

Relationships: Natasha x Stark!Reader, Tony x Pepper x Reader (platonic)

If there was one thing about your father, he could throw a party, and most of the time, you had no idea why a party was happening. You knew the team returned from a mission. They saved the day, were the heroes, and now they were drinking and partying. All expect Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow was nursing a Long Island iced tea outside the party. She was wearing a black mesh jumpsuit. The top was sequined with a deep v-neckline and long sleeves. It was a showstopper. Every head seemed to turn towards her but ignored every advantage, man or woman.

You sighed, stood up from your spot at the bar, and pushed your way through the party to the outdoor balcony. You felt her eyes on you as the door closed behind you, and the sounds of the party became muffled. She would come; you just had to wait. So you walked to the patio set in the corner and sat down.

The cool summer air caused goosebumps to form on your skin. You enjoyed the cooler weather, and the sun blasted the city during the day. It recorded high temperatures this year. “You are going to get sick wearing just that,” you knew she was smirking without looking. You were more focused on the city skyline.

“Come keep me warm then,” this time, you looked at the Russian as she walked over to you. She sat down next to you, her thigh barely touching yours, but you felt the warmth she gave off. This was the nature of your relationship with Natasha. Constantly flirting, teasing touches, and longing looks at one another. That was it. It was as if you were both too scared to take that final step. “Are you not enjoying the party?” You turned to face her. Your arm bent on the back of the couch, and you rested your head in your hand. “The talk of the town is that you’re a hero.” You were caught off guard by the bitter laugh that escaped from her, and she sipped on her drink. You frowned.

“I’m not a hero.”

“I think you are,” she said, placing her hand on your thigh. You were wearing a skirt, so you enjoyed the feeling of her hand on your skin.

“You look good,” she said, changing the direction of the conversation. Did you wear this for me?” You rolled your eyes but placed your free hand on top of hers.

“No,” you deadpanned. “I don’t want to inflate your ego, Romanoff.” She smiled and moved closer to you. You thought she was going to kiss you. Instead, she rested her head in space between your neck and shoulder. “Nat,” your voice shook. “What are you doing?” She hummed, and the vibration caused a shiver to travel down your spine.

“I was thinking about kissing you,” she pulled away, and you felt the warmth of her breath on your lips. “What do you say to that, pretty girl?”

“I’d say, what are you waiting for?” Her lips were softer than you expected. Her hand moved to your cheek, keeping you close as the kiss depended on it. She ended it. Her lips were red, and her cheeks were rosy.

“Let’s get out of here,” she whispered. “Drive out of the city, away from the crowds.” You have never moved so fast in your life.

Now, your relationship with the Black Widow has changed. The longing looks were still there, but the flirtatious behavior was replaced with stolen kisses when the team wasn’t looking. Too often, Natasha pushed you up against the tower’s walls and kissed you as her life depended on it, always ending before the team caught you. No one knew, especially your father. For six months, Natasha and you kept your relationship a secret. Even when you knew Natasha wanted to show you off at every party, cuddle with you during moving nights, or claim you as hers. It was you. You weren’t out yet to Tony, and the man was trying to set you up with every eligible bachelor in the city. You were so scared he would be disappointed in you. So you hid, and you pretended it wasn’t kissing you.

You woke up to an empty bed, and the spot Natasha had slept in the previous night was cold. There was the lingering scent of her perfume on her pillow. You had an apartment a little away from the tower. Tony told you often that you could live in the tower, but you liked the sense of privacy. It was also the perfect place to be with Natasha, away from the team. You could be all over her, which you were last night, and a fight broke out.

You were needy and missed your girlfriend, which caused you to be attached to your girlfriend like a koala. She laughed it off at first, poking fun because she was usually the one that constantly wanted to be close to you. You grumbled something about being unable to hug her all day, which was true. You were both so busy the only time you could touch her was at night or early morning before your busy schedule whisked you away from one another. As the night carried on, you noticed a shift in her mood. With Natasha, it was up in the air on how to deal with it. Sometimes, she was honest and told you the truth. Other times, she bottled everything up and shut down.

You decided on the direct approach and asked what was bothering her. She was quiet for a moment and focused on the Bond movie that was playing. It was her night to pick, so you weren’t surprised when you returned from the bathroom to see it queued up on the TV. ‘Are you ashamed to be with me?’ she asked.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time she’s asked you this question. As soon the question was asked, you knew the direction was headed. Over the past six months, it was the only thing you fought about. Hurtful words were said on both sides. She was tired of being your secret. Even though you fought about it before this time, it felt final. She was almost fed up waiting for you.

You sat in your bed and stared at the clothes she had left in your room. Most of them were folded neatly in the space you made for her in the dresser or hung up in the closet next to yours. These clothes were from two nights ago when you ripped them off your girlfriend. You slumped back in the bed, pulled Natasha’s pillow over your face, and inhaled your scent. You needed to get out of bed, but the weight of the fight and waking up to Natasha being gone was soul-crushing. Sighing, you force yourself out of bed to take a quick shower.

You were part of the lead team of scientists at Stark Industries. A position you had to work your ass to get the position and prove to everyone you were more than qualified. You heard the whispers and saw the dirty looks, that everyone believed you got the job because Tony Stark is your father.

Braiding your hair, you entered your kitchen and found a note on the counter. You recognized the handwriting of your girlfriend. ‘Your breakfast smoothie is already blended, and I peeled some hard-boiled eggs. Maybe we can do lunch if you aren’t busy. Forever and Always.’

It was a saying the two of you said. Instead of ‘I love you’, it was ‘Forever and Always.’ Natasha found it easier to say that than the L-word. You kissed the note and placed it in your pocket. Still, your heart felt heavy.

There was no time to see Natasha between meetings, running experiments, and writing reports. You were exhausted and missed your girlfriend. It wasn’t until 3:30 when you saw her. She was in the kitchen, cutting her sandwich into triangles. You always found it funny, but she claimed it tasted better. Your eyes locked onto hers pointed to the side hallway and walked over there. With your back against the wall, you waited. You heard her footsteps as she stood in front of you. “Hi,” she smiled.

“Hi,” you responded and kissed her cheek. But you refused to move away, basking in the warmth she always gave off. You put her arms around her neck and hugged her. Her hands found their natural place on your waist. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry. I’m just so scared.” You felt her nod and gently pulled back so she could face you. Your arms remained tightly around her neck.

“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry, too. Forever and always, I promise.”

“Forever and always,” you whispered against her lips. She kissed you softly. In hindsight, getting lost in how Natasha kissed you was a bad idea. You bite her bottom lip, and the gasp she releases lets you deepen the kiss. Her grip on you tightened, and she pushed you back against the wall. You moaned, and it only seemed to spur her on. Kissing Natasha was everything. Every time she kissed you, it took your breath away. Gently morning kisses or rough, passionate kisses against your kitchen counter. You could spend your entire day in her arms and her lips on yours. “Ah, Lady Stark, oh-” you jumped at the sound of the God of Thunder’s voice. His eyes flickered to you and Natasha, whose arms were still around you. “How long has this been going on?”

“6 months,” Natasha answered. You’ve lost your ability to speak. The god smiled.

“Very well. I will find you later,” he winked at you and returned the way he came. Thor knows you thought. Someone on the team caught you. It was only a matter of time before it got back to Tony or Pepper. The Avengers were superheroes, super soldiers, and trained spies, but they were horrible secret-keepers.

“Sweetheart,” you snapped out of your thoughts by Natasha’s voice. “Are you okay?” You nodded, unsure if you were.

“I have to tell Tony and Pepper before it gets back to them through someone else.”

“Do you want me to?”

“No,” you cut her off before she could finish her question. You desperately wanted her to be there but needed to do it alone. You were the reason your relationship was hidden for so long. “Sorry,” you ran your hands over your braid. “I have to do it alone,” you placed her hand over her heart. The steady beat calmed you down. She put her hand over yours and kissed you softly. The kiss was so gentle it felt like a goodbye. You kept your forehead against hers and closed your eyes. There was so much you wanted to say.

What would your last request be? Would you tell her to remember you? She took you to the beach for a date. You stood in a nice dress and stared at the sunset, red lips and rosy cheeks. ‘Remember me there,’ you thought. ‘Say you’ll see me again even if it’s in your wildest dreams.’

“Forever and always,” you said again.

“Forever and always.”

You promised Natasha that you would find her as soon as you were done talking with Tony. Luckily, you had some paperwork to give him, so the visit had a more tangible reason to see him. You opened the door to his office as a dart was thrown, and it hit the door frame. “Oops, sorry, kid,” you rolled your eyes and pulled the dart out of the wood.

“For you,” you dropped the pile of folders onto his desk. “We just need you to verify our numbers are correct, and then we can move on to the next phase.” He groaned dramatically and flopped down into his chair.

“You know I promoted Pepper to CEO, so I didn’t have to deal with paperwork.” Your mother was a saint. You chuckled and aimed at the dart board. You threw it and hit the bullseye.

“It’s your project,” you said, walking over to the board and pulling out the darts. We don’t want another Ultron,” you saw him roll his eyes.

“You make one robot that goes rampant, and it’s all everyone talks about,” you laughed and threw another round of darts. “Do you need these back now?” He pointed to the files.

“No,” you sat in the chair and crossed your legs. “Can I not spend time with my sperm donor?” You ducked at the stress ball he threw at you. He hated it when you called him that, but you loved getting a rise out of him. “Actually,” you folded your hands. “Can we talk about something?” He sat up in the chair. It was rare for you to see the man so seriously.

“Are you dying? Pregnant? Did you kill someone?”

“No!” You laughed and scratched the back of your head. “I uh shit,” you weren’t sure why you were so nervous. You knew the man was an ally. Stark Industries was at every event during Pride.

“Angel,” he smiled. “You can tell me anything, and I won’t be upset.” Angel was the name he called you since you were a baby. You were born very premature and got sick so easily that the doctors weren’t sure if you were going to make it. But you recovered.

“I’m gay,” you whispered. “I’ve known for a while,” you said before he could say anything. “I’ve been so scared to tell you.” He stared at you, blinking a few times, but remained silent. “Right, sorry for wasting your time. I’ll go.” You stood up quickly, knocking over the chair. You left it on the ground and stumbled out of the office. You needed to get out. You needed to go.

Natasha was getting worried. She thought it was taking a lot longer than she thought it would. She asked the AI where Tony was, and the Black Widow walked into a shit show when she entered his lab. Tony was frantically moving holograms around, but they flashed red, and he would try again. Pepper was no better. Her phone was pushed against her ear, and she was pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth. “Are we being attacked?” She asked, making her presence known. Tony glanced at her before focusing back on whatever he was doing.

“I don’t have time for whatever stupid prank Yelena or Peter pulled. Whatever they broke, just order another one,” he began to work again. I have to find her.” He said it mostly to himself. It was a mumbled and throwaway comment, but Natasha heard it. ‘I need to find her,’ Tony said. Natasha grabbed Tony by the shoulder without thinking and threw him into the chair. She steadied him so he wouldn’t fall over.

“What did you say to her?” She asked, crossed her arms, and took a small step back.

“How do you-” he squinted his eyes at her. “Look, I didn’t say anything to her.” He threw his hands to the side. It clicked in Natasha’s head. She knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes. You took his silence as rejection. “Now move so I can find our daughter.” But Natasha stayed.

“Where have you looked?”

“FRIDAY can’t find her,” Pepper ended her call and walked over. “I’ve called some of her favorite sports, but no one has seen her.”

“She’s either turned off her phone or blocked me from finding her.” Natasha always believed you were more intelligent than him, but she knew where you would run off.

“I know where she would go,” Natasha turned on her heels to leave.

“Wait,” Tony called out. His frantic voice caused the Black Widow to stop. “Why do you know so much about her?” Right. If you took off, you wouldn’t have told him. Slowly, Natasha faced him.

“I’ve been dating her for six months,” she said. “So I will find her and make sure she’s safe.”

You knew your time was up when you heard the quiet chime of the front door. You waited until strong arms circled your waist and pulled you flush to her chest. “Found you, my love,” you smiled and chuckled. Of course, she would be the one to find you. She was the only one who knew about this place. “Tell me about this painting.”

You told her a story that captured the emotion of the painting in front of you. You stood in a small art gallery way past closing hours, but the owner gave you the key. You were an investor here, meeting the owner in Central Park while they were painting. The art gallery was small, and it showcased local and small artists. It was peaceful, and the place gave your mind a break. You kept the gallery a secret, protecting your space from the crazy personalities of the Avengers.

“Is he mad?” You finally asked. Natasha shook her head and kissed your shoulder.

“No, he’s worried he couldn’t find you,” she chuckled softly. “I may have told him we are dating.”

“Oh,” you whispered. You felt oddly okay with him knowing, even if he wasn’t going to accept you as you were. “Where is he?”

“Well, I told him to stay at the tower,” Natasha sighed. “But he’s stubborn, and I caught him and Pepper following me.” You laughed, not surprised that Tony Stark couldn’t follow a car without getting caught. You spun around to face your girlfriend, arms around her neck and hugged her tight.

“Forever and always,” you whispered.

“I love you too.” The three-word statement shocked you and made your stomach flip. Your heart filled with butterflies. You were happy and terrified but mostly happy.

You were startled when you walked out of the gallery, and your dad bulldozed into you. His arms wrapped around you tightly. “I love you,” he said. “I love you and support you even if you have questionable taste in women.” You let out a watery laugh and wiped away your tears.

“Thanks, Stark,” Natasha rolled her eyes with a small smile on her face.

“I will support you. I will always want you to be happy,” Tony continued.

“We love you no matter who you love,” Pepper said, getting out of the car and joining you. “No matter what.” You collapsed into your parents’ arms and cried against them. A weight was lifted off your chest, and you felt free.

The next Stark Party, you were sitting on the couch. This time, Natasha’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist and your hand on her thigh. It seemed second nature that the two of you were attached at the hip. No one batted an eye. When looking back at it, you seemed a little silly. But now you were free to live your life to the fullest.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x stark!reader #tony stark x pepper potts #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow fanfiction #inspired by music

241 notes · View notes

rxmqnova · 2 days

Text

Y/N: Is this about me?

Natasha: No.

Y/N: Then I've lost interest.

#source: incorrect quotes generator #incorrect marvel quotes #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x you

250 notes · View notes

flkwh0re · 2 days

Text

Casual - The Continuation

Warnings: Fluffy!!, Maybe slightly angsty?, Not a whole lot of warnings but this has no smut!

Word count: 1k (literally three words from 1.1k 😭)

Authors Note: Pretty sure this is like the first fic i’m posting here without smut, LOLLL. This has taken too long for me to get out but I felt randomly motivated to write it so enjoy! I listen to Snow Angel two times while writing this. 😭😭(There with be an alternative ending for this)

Tags: @mrsrushman @sgm616 @nikkinss

First part

It had been a few weeks since that night with Natasha, and to no one's surprise she had made no contact. Not with anyone. You tried reaching out every single way that was possible, but before you had gotten the chance all way were unavailable to you.

You had spent most days and nights with Wanda, you couldn't stand being alone. The moment Wanda was gone all thoughts had consumed you, eating away at your emotional state.

A knock came to the door, anytime there was one you would scurry to the door to check if it was Nat. Hoping she'd have shown to apologize, to tell you how she really felt. The person behind the door though was a girl you had only met a few times. Yelena Belova.

Yelena was Nat's sister, you only new this because of the few times Natasha had mentioned her family to you. One of the many reasons you thought she was in love with you, who discusses their family with someone they're supposed to only have a casual relationship with?

"Hi? Yelena right?" You asked, trying to make it seem like you haven't previously spent the past few weeks stalking her instagram for some news on Natasha. "Yea, hey. My sister said she had some stuff here, asked me to grab it."

The strength it took to fight back the tears that welled in your tear ducts was almost impossible. "Yea, come in. I'll go grab it."

You led Yelena into your apartment and told her to wait in the living room part of your place. As you wondered off down the hall, you let the tears slip. Why did she have to send her sister?? She wasn't woman enough to face you? After SHE broke YOUR heart? You weren't sure if the tears were tears out of anger or out of sadness.

What you hadn't known was that Natasha was too facing the worst, if not worse than how you were. She could barley leave her bed, rarely ate anything. She had asked Yelena to retrieve her stuff, not because she wanted it back but because she feared it was just in your way.

The lack of clarity between the two of you was what was tearing you two apart even more. Natasha feared you now hated her, and you thought Natasha had played with your heart.

You returned to the living room to find Yelena looking at a collection of pictures. They were polaroids taken by Wanda of you, and all your other shared friends. One of the pictures showed you and Nat, your arms wrapped tightly around her neck as you at on her lap. Natasha's hand rested on your thigh, and the widest grin plastered on her face.

"What happened between you two?" Yelena questioned, offering you a sympathetic look as she saw the tears stained to your reddened face and puffy eyes. "I thought we had more, clearly we didn't. I mistook her false overbearing love for me as real love." You mumbled out past your sobs that you held back.

"Mistook? Natasha does love you. She's talked about you, a whole lot. She's not left her room barely in weeks." You facial expression contorted into a look of shock, confusion, and worry.

"She hasn't tried to even talk to me, how could she be so upset?" It came out harsher than you intended and immediately apologized. Yelena understood your attitude, and offered to take you to Nats place. You were hesitant at first, but she insisted that she could convince her sister to talk to you.

The drive to Natasha's was awkward, which only made your anxiety worse. The skin around you nails had been picked away, alone with the skin on your lips. It was a short drive, but enough to ready yourself.

Yelena unlocked the door of Nat's apartment, silently leading you in just incase Natasha was to appear. Yelena left you to stand in the hallway while she took Nat's stuff in. You tried listening into what Natasha had to say, but her voice was so horse from her crying.

Finally Yelena spoke up about Natasha finally speaking to you, which Nat quickly denied. "Yelena I cannot speak to her, she probably hates me guts. I can't handle anymore of this situation." Yelena gave into her own feelings, "Natasha stop it! You're acting as if this whole time she did something to you! You shatter that poor girls heart by closing yourself off to her."

Natasha stared at her sister, realization came crashing into her mind. She felt so stupid, so very stupid. After a moment of silence Natasha finally spoke up, "I need to talk to her." Yelena nodded, "Lucky for you I brought her with me." Natasha's eyes widened.

"Let me go get her, I'll have her come in and talk to you." Yelena quickly turned the corner, motioning you to follow. You entered Nat's room, clothes strung on the floor. Bottles upon bottles on her nightstand.

"Sorry for the mess." She muttered in shame, you dismissed her apologies. "I am so sorry, I know that's not enough. I- I should've.. been honest. I shouldn't have ran from you. I love you, I love you so much. I was just so scared of committing to a relationship, I was scared of getting hurt."

"It's okay Nat, but you know that I would never ever, hurt you." You wrapped your arms around her, her head resting on your stomach and tears clinging to the fabric of your shirt. "I know, I'm so sorry. I understand if you hate me, I do. I just need you to know I'm so sorry."

"I don't hate you, I could never hate you. I love you Nat, I love you so much. I wanna start over, I wanna forget all the hookups. I wanna start a fresh new relationship with you, okay?" Natasha nodded, "Okay." Smiles grew on both of your faces. "You better hope Wanda doesn't beat the shit out of you." You both chuckled, "That girl couldn't lay a finger on me." You both laughed even harder.

Nat pulled you down onto her bed, her arms wrapping around your body. Her scent and warmth swarmed you, something you missed crazily. "Wait we should tell Yelena." As soon as the words left your lips, Natasha's phone lit up with a message from Yelena saying, "Bye".

You and the russian burst out into laughter, then shared a soft kiss full of love and passion. You'd finally be able to be happy with Natasha.

Masterlist

#natasha romanoff #natasha fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader angst #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you

114 notes · View notes

goldenempyrean · 11 hours

Text

Spring Showers

〚 Notes - Hello! This was based off this: request! I was meant to post this yesterday I think but something came up. Hopefully this is enjoyable, honestly feels good to write again :) 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - When you’re sick, your day goes from bad to worse. A small car breakdown later and you find yourself unexpectedly bumping into Natasha. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 2681 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

Waking up that fresh spring morning, you rolled over to snooze the alarm that had pulled you out of your slumber, hitting it lazily before letting gravity take control and send your arm flopping over the edge of the bed.

You groaned a little as it hit the edge of your bed, rubbing your elbow with an annoyed look as if somehow death-staring the metal frame would make up for it.

As you begrudgingly got out of bed, the chill of the early morning hit you, sending a shiver down your spine. You had to admit felt a bit off, today. Your head heavy and your throat scratchy but you ignored the signs of fatigue and finished getting dressed and ready for the day.

Nat was always one to be up and out early in the mornings. Running, training or sometimes even just reading, whatever it was, she was definitely up and ready for her day before sunrise. Early bird gets the worm? Well, the early widow gets her 90-minute workout in without being disturbed. She liked it that way.

Unfortunately, it meant you usually weren’t able to see her most days before heading out to work - the rare exception being when you were on a late shift and got a few extra hours at home before heading out.

You weren’t an Avenger like your girlfriend, instead you served the people of New York by working in the local hospital as the Chief Nurse in charge. It was a demanding job, but one you found incredibly rewarding.

The pouring rain grabbed back your wandering attention as you sat sleepily over your chosen bowl of cereal. You hadn’t really had an appetite but had forced a few bites down regardless before you lost interest. Checking your phone, you realised you needed to set off, so you grabbed your car keys and headed out the compound.

As you pulled into the hospital's parking lot, you mentally prepared yourself for the day ahead. You tried to clear your throat as you checked yourself over in the mirror, but it ended in you coughing raspily and sighing in defeat as you rubbed your throat. Maybe water would get rid of the soreness, you thought as you took a tentative sip from your bottle… nope, it still hurt. What a fun day this was going to be.

Whoever said being in charge was fun, was sorely mistaken. Throughout the morning, you found yourself raising your voice more often than usual to be heard over the cacophony of the emergency room. By midday, your voice had started to crack and strain, sending sharp pains down your throat with each word.

Eventually you resigned yourself to your office, sick (literally) of the mix of pitiful, disgusted and annoyed glances you were receiving from both residents and patients.

As you sat in your office, trying to soothe your aching throat and mustering the energy to tackle the mountain of paperwork on your desk, the hospital intercom made you jump as it crackled to life, urgently calling you to the ER.

You groaned but despite your muscle’s aching, your instincts kicked in, and you rushed out of your office towards the ER.

As you entered the chaotic room, your senses were assaulted by the echo of urgent voices and the sharp smell of antiseptic made your eyes water.

You had barely assessed the ongoing situation before a sudden sneeze erupted from you, surprising yourself with its volume. You’d quickly covered your mouth, but the damage was done. Several heads turned in your direction, eyebrows raised in concern.

Before you could even attempt to explain, your boss appeared, her expression a mix of concern and sternness. "What are you doing here, Y/N?" She asked, her tone indicating she already knew the answer.

You tried to muster a response, but your throat rebelled, emitting only a hoarse croak instead.

Your bosses' eyes softened slightly, an understanding look settling on her face. "You're ill," She stated matter-of-factly. "Go home, rest, and don't come back until you're fully recovered. We don’t need you starting an epidemic.”

Despite your protests, she ushered you out of the ER and back to your office to collect your belongings. She helped you collect your things, only stopping to hold a thermometer to your ear as she checked your temperature.

You thanked her hoarsely as she held open the door for you, “Seriously, I don’t want you back until 48 hours after that fever breaks.” She warned with a stern tone but the gentle pat on your back made it obvious she was just worried that’s all.

As you stepped out of the hospital, the chilly rain immediately soaked through your clothes, sending shivers down your spine. You dropped your keys twice as you fumbled to unlock your car, finally flopping down behind the wheel with an drained sigh - a sigh which your crackling lungs despised, reprimanding you in the form of a burning cough.

As you drove home, the rain beat relentlessly against the windshield, blurring the already dimly lit road ahead. Each cough sent a sharp pang through your chest, and your vision blurred with exhaustion. You tried to focus on driving safely, your mind drifting to the warmth of your bed and girlfriend waiting for you at home. Not long now…

But just as you approached a traffic light, your car sputtered, the engine emitting a series of ominous noises before finally giving out with a pathetic wheeze. Panic seized you as you coasted to the side of the road, hazard lights flashing weakly in the rain.

You tried to restart the engine, but it only responded with a feeble groan before falling silent again.

“Oh you piece of shit!” You slammed your hand on the wheel as the car’s engine light flickered an angry red, “Stupid, fucking-“ An awful cough broke off your curse, your grip on the wheel turning white as your lungs burned.

After you caught your breath, you leaned back in your seat, feeling utterly defeated. Each raindrop seemed to mock your predicament, drumming against the windshield like a cruel taunt. With a heavy heart and a pounding headache you pulled out your phone - fighting back exhausted tears as you saw the critical low battery warning flash up on the screen.

You didn’t know the number of any breakdown services or anyone that could really be of help. The most you were able to do was to text Tony to ask him to help you move your car tomorrow. He had always been quick to respond so you found your spirits lifting just an inch higher when he agreed. However, those spirits were surely crushed when you opened up the Uber app on your phone only for the screen to turn black, taunting you with the picture of an empty battery.

“For fucks sake!”

There was nothing more you could do. You’d just have to walk. Nobody was coming to save you. You were a grown girl. You can look after yourself. There was a grocery store just down this road, maybe 10 minutes or so. You’d be able to stop there, rest, maybe pick up a few supplies. There’d be a phone there too, you’d be able to call someone to pick you up.

As you trudged through the rain, each step heavier than the last, you had to practically drag yourself down the street as your congested lungs begged for air. It was hard for see through the constant rain; the whistling of the wind made your ears throb. The chill of your soaked clothes clung tightly to your skin, and the coughing fits continued to rack your exhausted body until finally you’d made it.

You didn’t wait any longer before heading inside. The bright fluoresce of the lights made your eyes sting a little but this was miles better compared to being outside getting battered by the rain.

With each stumbling step, you grabbed a basket make your way to find some medicine. You just wanted something to make you feel better, just anything that would put an end to your awful day.

Maybe you should get some actual groceries whilst you where did. It wouldn’t hurt to stock up the cupboards a little, you might as well consider you were here.

Little did you know your girlfriend was already one step ahead of you.

Natasha’s eyes widened a little as she strolled down the aisle, pushing along half a cart of groceries as she hummed. Y/N? What were you doing here? This was a pleasant surprise and she kept quiet as she snuck up to you.

“Hey bub.” Her warm voice murmured, and you felt familiar arms wrap around the front of your waist. Natasha’s head came to rest on your shoulder as she nosied at what you were looking at, “I thought we agreed that I’d be doing groceries this week.” She purred, kissing the side of your neck sweetly.

You shrugged through gritted teeth, your damp clothes crinkling uncomfortably, “I just needed something.”

“Hold on.” Her brow crinkled just a little, “I thought you had work?” She paused, her face shifting slightly as she realised just how soaked you were. This was not the kind of damp someone got just walking from the car to the entrance. You were drenched! “God, you’re soaked Y/N! Where on earth have you been? Did you walk here?!”

Your eyes cast to the floor. You’d forgotten that it was usually the day that the two of you had gone grocery shopping. Of course, it hadn’t even occurred to you that Nat might’ve been in the store.

“I may have got a little damp.” You sniffled thickly, trying to keep your tone neutral but the painful rasp in your voice instantly gave yourself away, “…and my car may or may not have broken down coming back from work.”

Natasha's concern deepened as she noticed your raspy voice. "Oh, sweetheart, you should have called me. I would've come to pick you up." Her voice softened, filled with genuine worry. Her grip tightened around you a little. “You're not just ‘damp’, you're practically drenched and- oh, what’s this?” Her eyes glanced down, noticing the theme of items in your own basket.

She had just about to ask you about them, but her question was answered when you ducked into your elbow with two forceful sounding sneezes barely seconds later.

“Double bless you!” Her tone shifted instantly to one of comfort, “Guess I don’t need to ask why your voice is so hoarse and you’re buying meds then, hm?” She cooed and you turned around with a pout, letting your head fall onto her shoulder as you wrapped your arms around her.

“You’re not feeling well.” It wasn’t a question, she just looked at you, looking deep into your weary eyes as she continued to hold you, “How long?”

You let out a small cough into her shoulder, “This morning. Got worse at work, got sent home which was beyond embarrassing.” Your croaking voice mumbled in defeat as Nat’s hand came to soothingly rub your back.

“I’m so tired and achy.” You continued, grumbling softly, finally feeling the weight of the day begin to let up as Nat continued to hold you in the moment, “My throat’s been so bad all day and I’ve had to constantly yell at people to do their jobs properly because apparently they’re all incompetent idiots that don’t know their elbows from their arse!”

Natasha couldn’t help but laugh a little at your choice of words but quickly shut up when you shot her a glare - of course the glare had been in no way intimidating with your sleepy eyes and runny nose, but she got the hint regardless.

“Sounds rough sunshine.” She murmured, sympathetically rubbing your back before the two of you began to walk towards another aisle, “Let me get those for you, oh and the car?” She asked, realising you hadn’t explained.

Nat took the basket from your hand and put it in her cart despite your objections, “It just decided to give up on me, right in the middle of driving home. I text Tony and he said he’d get it moved tomorrow but then my phone died before I could call an uber so I had to walk the way back.” You coughed harshly as you explained what had happened, rubbing your throat with a whine.

“That’s some awful luck sweetheart, I’m sorry. How about we get you a few things and just spend the rest of the day being warm and cosy?” Nat offered as a pulled a stuffed animal from the shelf, nuzzling it against your cheek before putting it into the cart.

Your face lightened up a little and you found yourself keeping a little closer to her as the pair of you continued through the store, “You wanna get some ice cream for that poor throat of yours sweet girl?” She asked, but of course she already what the answer would be.

As you nodded eagerly, Natasha smiled, glad to see a hint of brightness returning to your expression. She led you to the freezer section, picking out your favourite flavour without hesitation. "Here we go," she said, placing it gently in the cart beside you. "Oh, and we should get some tea as well, all we have is that herbal stuff Wanda likes but it’s kinda bitter, you’ll feel better with something sweeter. I think.”

She kept her hand softly holding your own you both headed over to find the tea - occasionally pausing as Nat picked up some of the general groceries you needed but it was hard to miss how she kept adding in small treats for you along the way, your favourite drink, snacks she even chose your favourite scent of laundry detergent.

Eventually your fever raging brain felt too fuzzy to keep paying attention, so you switched off, trusting her enough to let her lead you along without asking questions.

Her voice seemed to echo and your vision blur before a hand cupping your cheek brought you back to reality. “Hey, earth to Y/N.” Natasha repeated herself, “You dazed out for a second there sweetie. Did you hear what I said?”

“Uh, no, sorry.” You answered sheepishly, warm embarrassment creeping up into your cheeks.

But Nat only smiled at you, her warm gaze making you relax, “I asked what tea you’d like baby.”

You nodded and turned to look over the assortment of boxes. You weren’t much of a tea person, in fact you never really drank it at all unless you were sick and Nat was definitely more of a coffee girl, herself. As you looked over the selection, a sudden sneeze caught you off guard, you stumbled back a little and bumped into Nat which made your girlfriend shake her head fondly as you sniffled in surprise.

“Bless you again. Looks like we’ll need some more tissues," She deducted, kissing your cheek swiftly before jogging back to the previous aisle, quickly returning with a few extra boxes and added them to the cart.

"You poor thing," Nat said sympathetically, as she opened one of the boxes in the cart and handing you a tissue. "Here, blow your nose love.”

“Thanks.”

“Berry-Bliss?” She read the name of the tea you’d chosen, after you’d finished blowing nose. “Is that one the kind you want?”

You shrugged sluggishly, biting back a groan as your muscles ached, “I’ll give it a try.”

“Worth a try.” She agreed, taking the box from you, not missing the chance to kiss your forehead as she did so. “You’re really warm baby. How about we pay up and get you back home sweetheart? I know you’re exhausted.”

As she suggested heading home, you nodded gratefully, taking her hand and letting her lead you towards the check outs. It wouldn’t take long to pay and get home but when you did, you knew you were in for an evening of cuddling and love.

Who could ask for more?

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@sayah13 @mahalkitanova @romanoffskisser @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @bloomingflowersthings @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @citrussnz @fluffyblanketgecko @kljhsong @santana1437 @blackwidow-3 @asiangmrchk13 @lovelyy-moonlight @juiles @lots-of-pockets @sashawalker2 @natashamaximoff69 @observeowl @beholdagaywriter @widows201 @llovergirleraa @danveration @idkeithershawty @rainedontknow @poison-blackheart @loveshineslikethesky @somber-sapphic @lexasaurs634 @ahintofchaos @scarlettssub @paisley-yy @wandanats-goodgirl @nuianced-tck-enby @maomaoincomming @anne-lister @rianlovelygirl @taliiiaasteria @swaqcenix @inluvwithfandom

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #sickfic #fluff #whump #comfort #marvel #mcu #natasha romanoff sickfic #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff imagine

125 notes · View notes

upon-a-starry-night · 3 days

Text

Love Favors The Misfortunate

Natasha Romanoff x Gender-Neutral Reader

Natasha Masterlist Main Masterlist

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Minor Violence

Summary: Misfortune always seems to follow you no matter what you do. But where there’s trouble, Nat often follows, maybe love was on your side after all?

Disclaimer: This was part of a writing exercise I did so it’s kind of silly and unedited but enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow you always managed to wind up in the worst situations that Earth could possibly experience. You wondered if you were just cursed or something considering last week you were present for not one but two bank robberies.

Maybe that was just the life of a delivery driver?

You hoped the lady behind the bank counters Caesar salad tasted better after death threats and salty tears of desperation.

This time, however, in the middle of checking the GPS during a stoplight, the sound of screams alerts you to the number of people ditching their cars and running past your motorcycle in fear.

Looking up you see the giant rip in Earth's atmosphere, monster-looking creatures spilling out of the hole.

Oh, Good.

You immediately kick your motorcycle into gear, walking the bike through the crowds of people until you can manage to make a U-turn and speed off, weaving your way through the panic.

You spare a few glances into your mirrors as more flying monsters spill out of the sky and it's during one of these glances that you fail to notice the giant alien who has just landed in the street a few feet ahead of you. By the time you notice him you only have enough time to attempt a full stop which results in your bike sliding from under you and skidding across the pavement. Ouch.

Much to your luck, however, the bike collides directly with the monster and sends it straight into its own spear. A weird purple liquid oozing slowly from underneath the unconscious body.

You frown, it was going to cost a pretty penny to get your bike fixed if it was even salvageable and now you definitely weren’t getting paid for the hamburger and fries that were probably still warm in your delivery bag.

Maybe you could see if french fries taste better after near-death and motorcycle debt.

Wincing, you feel your arms already bruising and your jeans have ripped through to your thigh, you're not bleeding as much as you probably should be from that slide but it still hurts like hell. Thank god you were wearing all your safety equipment.

A hand is extended out to you and you graciously take it, looking up to meet eyes with the prettiest redhead you’ve ever seen. She’s giving you an impressed smile and you feel like you could melt right then and there. Although that might also be from the burning pain in your leg.

You probably need to find a hospital. Or maybe you were dead and this was an angel.

You always figured they’d look like the horrendous abomination of eyes and wings that they were described as, not as pretty redheads with striking green eyes but you weren’t complaining.

“That was a good move” There are still people running past you screaming but it feels like time stops when she speaks to you.

“Yep. that was definitely something I did on purpose” Drumming your fingers on your thighs you watch her chuckle and give you a look that tells you she knows you did not, in fact, do that on purpose.

You glance between your bike and the woman in front of you, screaming civilians making the moment almost comical. You felt like you were in some kind of rom-com apocalypse.

Despite it being the last thing you should probably do, you extend your hand out to her and tell her your name. She gives you a very amused look and you shrug your shoulders as if to say ‘Why not? We’re here aren’t we?’

She chuckles again as she takes your hand, introducing herself.

Natasha. Derived from the Russian name Anastasia, which means resurrection. Maybe she was an angel. Damn.

Natasha nods her head in the direction of the crowd and smirks “Shouldn’t you be joining them?” You shrug. “Unless you know more moves like that?” She gestures toward your beat-up bike and you shake your head

“No. Unfortunately, I haven't mastered the art of more than one motorcycle trick yet” Not that you could get that thing to start back up again after that anyway.

She shakes her head with a laugh, glancing over her shoulder at the mess the city is becoming before turning back to you. “ Well I guess until you learn you should probably get running”

You nod, a little dejected, your calmness in relativity to the situation was likely the result of a concussion but you weren’t worried. Unless Nat was not real, in that case, you should be worried. Very Worried.

“Will we meet again?” it’s cliche and you immediately feel like a protagonist in a Disney movie but it’s a genuine question.

She smirks and looks around at the city again, gesturing to the absolute clusterfuck that New York had become “For your sake, I hope we don't”

You know she doesn’t mean anything bad by it and it’s your turn to smirk when you say “Knowing my luck, we will” You hope she finds herself near a few banks in the upcoming months…

She smiles at you and nods her head in the direction of the crowd and you understand what she’s trying to tell you. With one final wave and a small “good luck” you run in the direction of your fellow New Yorkers, occasionally glancing back to see her running in the direction of the main battle.

You didn't know who she was but Damn did you want to.

~~~

The next time you find yourself in a particularly unfavorable situation is not for months later. Minus that one time you witnessed two old ladies get mugged and that time you almost got hit by an ice-cream truck. But you got free ice cream from the second one so you weren't counting it.

You’d taken up a job in a small pizza place to pay for your bike repairs. It didn’t pay much but you didn’t have that many options after New York got attacked by aliens and half the businesses were destroyed or temporarily shut down. This is one of the few places still open which means on Friday nights you were busy as hell.

It was not a Friday night. It was a Tuesday afternoon and your coworker who was supposed to be on shift with you called out sick which meant you were manning the shop by yourself. Your stupid coworker was probably just off cheating on his girlfriend again but you didn’t care because the shop was empty which meant you could play games on your phone without his judgmental stare.

You’re struggling through level 5 of Candy Crush when the sound of breaking glass comes from the front of the shop and you sigh. You would be surprised but it was New York, more specifically it was your life in New York.

What you are surprised by, however, is the sight of familiar red hair covered in glass in the entryway, and you really want to rub your eyes with the squeaking sound effect like in the cartoons but the amount of microfibers that just got released into the air would suggest not doing that.

“Well well well” You realize you sound more like a supervillain than you intended and you freeze when she stands and sharply turns in your direction, gun pointed directly at you. You throw your hands up in surrender immediately. Goddamn supervillain catchphrases always making pretty girls turn their guns on you.

When she seems to recognize you she relaxes only for a man to jump through the already broken glass window and tackle her to the ground again. You want to help but considering you still haven't learned any more motorcycle tricks(or any tricks in general) you figure you would probably be useless.

You watch helplessly as she disarms and renders the guy unconscious in a matter of seconds and then stands and dusts herself off. The guy on the ground looks like some old-timey variation of Hitler and you're pretty glad she knocked him unconscious before he could even notice you.

You focus back on Nat who's looking at you like a wounded animal that could run away at any moment and It’s then that you realize that most people are not quite used to these kinds of situations. Clearly, you weren’t like most people. You point to the body in a trenchcoat on the ground as you crinkle your nose

“Are you taking that guy with you when you leave?” She huffs out a laugh and you feel yourself smile at successfully getting her to laugh again.

You, one.

Hitlerman, zero.

At least you were winning one game. Stupid Candy Crush.

She looks around the shabby pizza place and then zones in on your nametag, only them seeming to realize you worked there. She tilts her head, nodding to your flimsy little name pinned to your T-shirt.

“Why are you working here? Where’s the bike?” You sigh, you knew the question was coming but it’s still a sore subject for you. You internally punch a wall but on the outside, you frown just a little. It’s the saddest expression Nat’s seen on your face so far.

“She’s in the shop. Repairs are taking longer than I thought and now I’m forced to conform to my least favorite type of work just to get her back” Nat gives an understanding nod and then cringes a little, walking towards you until she’s right in front of you. She places a hand on your head and you inhale sharply.

A small frown forms on Nat’s face “You’re bleeding”

The feeling of her hand on your face confirms that she’s not an angel or a figment of your imagination and you don’t realize you’ve voiced that thought out loud until you hear Nat barking out a laugh.

“I’m flattered but, well-” She glances up, then behind her, then back towards you “I wouldn’t be so sure just yet” She smirks and removes her hand just as a ceiling panel falls from the roof. Dust flies into the air and you cover your face to avoid getting more shit in your eyes.

When the room finally settles Natasha is nowhere in sight but there’s a Captain America band-aid on the serving counter and you feel a small smile across your face. What a dramatic exit. Now who was the supervillain?

You take great notice of the fact that Hitlerman is also gone and you wonder how the fuck she managed to do that. But more importantly, you hoped this wasn’t coming out of your paycheck.

~~~

You can’t emphasize enough to most people how much you’re not even trying to be in the situations you get caught in. In fact, the one time you stayed home for a week you ended up catching the Flu. How the hell do you catch the flu from staying home? After that, you just accepted that you were a magnet for misfortune and there was nothing you could do about it.

Although, after meeting Nat you found yourself a little excited anytime something misfortunate happened and that was probably psychotic and you should definitely check yourself into a psych ward but you’d probably end up choking on a crayon and getting deemed a risk to those around you so what was the use?

Still, of all the robberies you’d been a witness to you’d never been a part of a hostage situation. Until now. Stupid Banks!

Usually, you’d assume that the police would handle a situation like this and you’d be stuck in this bank for hours until someone grew a dick and negotiated something but this time circumstances were a little different. To start, the guy who was currently robbing the bank was holding some type of gun that was the equivalent of real-life freeze tag.

Anyone who got zapped by the oddly blue glowing gun was frozen in place, which led you to problem number two.

The police had shown up nearly half an hour ago and someone must not have briefed them on this wacko holding you hostage because the second one of them snuck in the back door with a gun he was frozen in place looking like the idiot that he probably was.

You would attempt to grab his gun but you didn’t feel like doing that shit. Who were you to risk your life and try to be a hero for some money that this poor fellow probably needed considering New York's rent cost.

Maybe if the stupid fucker hadn’t frozen the one lady who knew the code to the very comically large bank safe he wouldn’t be stuck making stupid negotiations and holding people hostage.

Instead, you settled against a wall near a bunch of crying civilians and attempted once again to beat level 10 of Candy Crush. You give up after ten minutes and delete the app. Really you were just trying to kill the time until you-know-who showed up.

She and her band of merry men had grown a reputation for taking care of situations that the regular authorities couldn’t and that’s why you weren’t the least bit surprised when the room began to fill with a cloudy white smoke.

Others began panicking, fearing that it was some sort of poisonous gas and you rolled your eyes. This was not poisonous gas, you’d seen poisonous gas and this was not it.

This was a very dramatic entrance formulated by your absolute favorite redhead. God, you felt like you were in a spy movie. Any second now you’d see a faint figure slowly descending from the ceiling in all black with a gas mask on and spy music would start playing.

Any second now.

Aaaaaany second now-

A scream from beside you makes you jolt and you find the sobbing woman next to you with a hand over her mouth. A gruff-looking man is telling her to keep quiet and your eyes widen for a second as you think ‘Oh shit. Double robbery.’ But from behind the gruff-looking man walks a familiar figure and she pats him on the shoulder as she passes him.

You squint your eyes, what an oddly metal-looking shoulder. Perhaps you were hallucinating. Stress and all that.

By this point, enough white smoke has filled the room that the bank robber is wildly swinging around in fear as he squints to see. He’s probably more on edge after that woman's scream as well. Yeeeeah more of a horror movie than a spy movie now.

The reason you can see everyone so well is due to your superior eyesight and definitely not the science lab goggles that you had in your bag for no suspicious reasons. Hey, you had to be prepared for literally anything considering your luck.

Nat’s wearing some kind of night vision-looking goggles and a mask and when she passes you you poke her leg. She jumps a little, glaring at you until she seems to recognize you despite your flawless Lab Scientist disguise and her eyes widen. Her eyes seem to scream ‘What are you doing here’ but you feel it’s too obvious of a question to bother answering.

Instead, you give her the biggest smile you can muster and a friendly wave, mouthing “Hiiii Nat!”

She rolls her eyes but you can see the smile she’s hiding under her mask and you mentally fist pump. Three for three.

You point to the man wielding the gun and mouth to her “Go! Team go!”

She shakes her head, exasperated by your lack of fear and self-preservation but holds her finger up to her mouth telling you to be silent as she turns to sneak up on the man.

Your body does so love disobeying orders though, so it chooses that moment to sneeze, which has the man pointing the gun in your direction (not that he can see as his eyes are practically watering now) and Nat turns to you with a glare.

You raise your hands up in surrender and in an attempt to help, you throw the nearest object on the floor across the room. Oh, that was your phone- well, okay. Either way, it helps, the man swings back in that direction, blasting his gun in the air and Nat takes the moment to attack him from behind.

She disarms him easily, taking him to the ground and placing him in handcuffs. She inspects the device carefully, flipping a switch and aiming it at the closest frozen person. With a bolt of light, they unfreeze and gasp for breath. Good, at least the idiot had created some sort of Ctrl-Shift Undo button.

You're part of the first few escorted out of the building considering you weren’t frozen or in hysterics and the paramedics look at you a little funny but wrap a shock blanket around your shoulders.

Yes, shock. That's what you were experiencing. Normal people things. You twist back and forth and watch the shock blanket sway as you wait for Nat to be done with her serious business. God, serious business was boring and took forever.

When she finally emerges from the building she ignores the press and police that come up to talk to her and heads straight for you. Ha! Eat shit losers.

She doesn’t bother with formalities, why would she? It's you. Instead, she hands you a small black box as she takes in the shock blanket you’ve tied around your neck to look like a cape.

“Here’s your phone” You take the object from her hands and inspect it.

Oh wow, No cracks, that's great. Wait- “This is not my phone” You turn it over and inspect the Stark logo on the back of it. Yeeeeah definitely not yours.

“No, it’s not” She doesn't bother lying to you at least, and you hum in acknowledgment. Well, you weren’t one to pass up a free upgrade. You pocket the phone and stick your hands in your front pockets, flashing her a smile

“So… you come around here often?” She rolls her eyes at your stupid attempt at a joke. Or flirting. Either one works.

“How do you keep ending up in these situations?”

It’s your turn to smirk “Maybe it’s just an excuse to see you?”

She gives you a look that says ‘It better not be’ and you just shrug, your shock blanket falling to the ground. Fucker. Making you look uncool. You refuse to bend down and pick it up. Recovery blankets were for losers anyway.

Still, she smiles at you anyway and crosses her arms “I’m beginning to think the only way to keep you safe is to keep you with me”

Your heart leaps but you pretend to be nonchalant. You're only blushing because of shock or whatever. Play it cool “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea” A stupid smile forces its way onto your face despite your best attempts to repress it and Nat laughs at your stubbornness.

“But first I think we’ve got to teach you some self-defense” She nods her head indicating for you to follow her and you both begin walking in step to an unmarked black car.

Kidnapper car.

Cameras are flashing around you and you think about how cool you’ll look with Lab goggles atop your head and white smoke in your hair on the news tomorrow morning. The media was going to love you.

Turning to Nat on your way to the car, you have a question that’s been itching at you that you feel the need to ask

“Do you think your sugar daddy can help me fix my bike?”

She punches you in the arm.

A/n: This was initially a writing exercise to write the silliest short story I could think of, but I thought it was cute so I decided to post it~ Starry

140 notes · View notes

nataliasquote · 2 days

Text

Welcome To My Head At Midnight | n romanoff

Summary: Natasha Romanoff is her own worst enemy and maybe this fight isn’t one she’s so sure she can win.

Warnings: more depressing stuff, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, isolation, depression, overall angst

wc: 2k

note: inspired by ‘Midnight’ by Bow Anderson. I listen to it too often so why not write a one shot about it to fuel angst. I’ve worked on this in small bits for a few nights now, and it’s not a fic exactly, but anyway, here it is :) enjoy

-⧗-

They say the brightest smiles hold the darkest secrets, their shimmering landscape a disguised war zone of trepidation. And those who dared tread there risked mutilation of their closest loved ones in exchange for the truth. No one came out of there unscathed, but perhaps the one who could never leave had it the worst.

Natasha knew how to keep herself occupied. Her work was her top priority, not having a secure bond with family nor friends to latch onto in her darkest hours. She threw herself into whatever she could, often picking up extra should she find simply a few spare minutes in her day.

But those hours weren’t taken for the hell of it. Her body wasn’t driven into the ground and her knuckles weren’t battered and bruised just for the fun of it. She needed solace, but nothing was ever strong enough to keep the lid on the overflowing terrors in her mind. She never would be strong enough, for this kind of pain was never made to be handled alone.

But the Black Widow, a feared warrior, would only ever be alone. Her hand crafted smile was simply a ruse but no one seemed to see through the cracks in her mask, no matter how large they felt from the inside. Her master manipulation worked a little too well, her silent cries for help falling upon deaf ears.

Among all of this, she couldn’t slow down. Just a momentary standstill had her grip on her emotions slipping, one by one her fingers losing contact with the sheer cliff face she found herself hanging from. Natasha may fight assassins and aliens with a fearless prowess, never batting an eyelid or showing a flicker of terror.

But the same could not be said for her own mind. The part of her that formed her every thought and controlled her every movement was simultaneously destroying her from the inside out. Her thoughts paralysed her, a punch to the gut when her guard was at her lowest. But no hours of running would ever let her escape these violent clutches that her fears had on her. She was trying to lose her shadow, an impossible fight.

She was always two steps ahead of both her enemies and her anxieties. The faintest lurch of her stomach or tightening of her chest had her appearing at Fury’s door in a breathless stupor, voice icy as she demanded an immediate mission. Her superior had his skepticism but always agreed, sending her across the country at the drop of a hat. Natasha never cared where she went; frankly, she never noticed. She would go anywhere, do anything.

But even she was forced to have days off. They felt like a fever dream, and Natasha found herself unable to partake in the excitable chatter rumbling among her friends at the prospect of their weekend plans. She could barely muster a smile, never mind a verbal reply whilst her hands began to tremble and her eyes turned glossy. Dread sank into the depths of her stomach like a stone - a day off meant isolation, it meant fighting her battles by herself - a death wish. Relaxation would never come, yet she braved a smile and lied through her teeth to dodge the inevitable questions.

Lifting her aching body out of bed was an impossible task. Her pillow was often soaked with tear stains but she barely noticed as her cool palms hit the wet fabric. The heavy curtains that fell to block out the world never twitched, and sunlight never got the chance to kiss her pale complexion. She didn’t want a reminder of what the day was like for everyone else. She remained a victim to the darkness, both inside and out.

There were no interruptions, why would there be? What little sleep she got was plagued by nightmares and she still shook from the aftermath as she shuffled to the bathroom, legs shaky and cheeks damp. The harsh reflection in the mirror only highlighted her anxious state, so she ignored it, too scared to be faced with what she knew would stare back at her. Mirrors across her room were covered up- she’d go crazy if they weren’t.

Natasha hated this side of her. Where was the tough woman she was supposed to be? How could she feel this much emotion when it had been beaten out of her since she could walk. How did any of it still remain? Nevermind enough to debilitate her and curl itself around her windpipe, slowly crushing her from the inside out and forcing every last piece of hope out.

She knew she was a failure, but not to this extent. Despite her success, she was fucking up her life and the demons in her head screamed this to her over and over. There were so many little girls who looked up to her. They admired the strength she had and her resilience and she wished she could tell them to stop when they uttered the words she was scared to hear.

“When I grow up, I want to be just like you.”

No you don’t. You really don’t.

Because they never got that insight into how she really survived each grueling day. They never saw the way her legs gave way the moment she stepped through the door, or how her hand clamped so tightly over her chapped lips her sobs were muffled. No one saw how many times she’d had to sweep pieces of shattered glass from her floor after her shaking hands had lost their grip on a cup, or the state of her nails after she’d picked them to death in an attempt to calm herself.

Everyone only saw what they wanted to see; the good. They didn’t want to know the bad. But Natasha had no choice, she had to live this nightmare. Her whole life had been spent running and she was exhausted from the fear that was always moments away from drowning her. It rested in her stomach like a grenade, the slightest movement could jostle and be fatal. But sometimes it felt more like the lingering touch of a ghostly figure, slowly dragging a nail down her back and igniting all her nerve endings so her body was on fire.

This ever-tense state that she had found herself in was exhausting and Natasha was tired. Simple tasks had become a chore and even small trips to the grocery store would result in a sudden, debilitating wave of tears and laboured breaths. A box of cereal still in hand as she kneeled on her kitchen floor, forehead pressed against the cupboard as she cried a silent scream. Anxiety hit her like a truck completely unexpected, snuffing any hope she had of a ‘good’ day.

But the worst times were the silent days. She had no tears to cry out, no thoughts to tumble into a panic attack about. She was just floating somewhere between wake and sleep, a hazy mess of a woman with no life behind her eyes.

There truly was no one who was worse of an enemy that she was to herself. She wasn’t afraid of death - no one was able to kill her.

No one but herself.

No one could love a killer like her. All the lives she had taken without a single drop of remorse, moving through crowds with a holstered gun like a goddamn machine.

Shoot, reload, repeat. Shoot. Reload. Repeat.

Where did ‘cry’ fit into this? Where did ‘self loathe’ fit into this? Where did ‘drown inside your own mind’ fit into any of this?

It didn’t. It shouldn’t.

Silence wasn’t a word in Natasha’s vocabulary. Screams rang in her ears like tinnitus, although she probably had that too.

‘No one’s going to love you’ she would mutter as she obsessed over her reflection with burning red eyes. Not with those scars. And certainly not when she was so fucked in the head. Who would want to love someone who spent the whole day smiling only to come home, flick off the lights, crawl under the covers and completely break down?

She hated that she craved someone’s touch, the coldness of her pillow failing to replicate the comfort a human would bring. But she was nothing if not a living, painful contradiction. Natasha never let herself get close to people, too scared they’d see the horrors she had to endure. So the chances of ever having someone to hold her at night was becoming slimmer by the day. But it was all the broken little girl inside her wanted. To hear someone’s comforting voice whisper in her ear that she wasn’t a monster. She wouldn’t believe them, her anxiety would fight against it, but to not go through this alone? It hurt her more than she’d ever admit.

The waves got stronger throughout the day until midnight hit and Natasha felt as though she was suffocating, water flooding her lungs as the monsters in her mind finally crawled out of their caves. It was just her in this lonely fight, weakly holding her weapons only to find them clattering to the ground in a matter of minutes.

She was tired, so tired of constantly fighting. She wasn’t born to be a soldier, she was born to be a lover, to be loved. But her trembling lip and curled up body tightened as she wrapped her arms around herself in a grounded effort to ease the pain.

As she silently shook in her bed and finally gave into the horrors, allowing them to submerge her under for another night and drain her energy and desire to live, there was one underlying question that felt heavier than everything else.

Was this her life now? Would she ever win? Or would the end of Natasha Romanoff come not from a wound gained out on the battlefield, but rather from one that had festered inside her for years, slowing growing and expanding until it consumed her in her entirety.

Was there anything worth living for anymore?

#natasha romanoff #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #fanfic #black widow #natasha romanoff angst #mental health #marvel angst #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #angst no comfort #natasha romanoff x you

90 notes · View notes

romanoffshouse · 6 months

Text

[Natasha speaking Russian]

Y/N, sighing: Yeah, I know.

Tony: You speak Russian?

Y/N: No. I just know the phrase, "This is all your fault"

Y/N: She says it a lot.

4K notes · View notes

marvelfilth · 4 months

Text

Need (18+)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader x Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: g!p Natasha Romanoff, g!p Wanda Maximoff, implied influence of sex pollen, PWP, threesome, unprotected sex, blow job

Summary: absolutely zero plot, straight up PWP

Masterlist

You finally let yourself relax for the first time in the past two days, closing your eyes and throwing yourself on the couch.

You hate stealth missions. You are more of an explosion type of girl, coming in with a bang, kicking some ass and leaving as soon as possible, but this - staying hidden, moving in shadows, and sneaking behind people's backs - this is more of a Natasha thing, which is why she is the one in charge.

You sigh, turning your head to look at the redhead. She is bent over some documents, her brows furrowed in deep thought. Wanda appears by her side a moment later, drops of sweat rolling down her temples.

You sit up, and focus on the women in front of you. Hours ago something went wrong when you split up, they came back looking as guilty as ever, reassuring you that everything was alright, and you believed them then. Now you're not so sure.

"Is everything okay?" You ask, pinning them down with your eyes.

Wanda jumps in surprise and moves to stand behind the table, slightly bending over. Your eyes narrow at the sight.

"Everything is alright. You should go to the store, we don't have anything to eat," Natasha says through gritted teeth, not meeting your eyes.

Your mouth opens in shock, eyes straying to Wanda's in search of support, but you find her in a similar state - eyes dark and jaw clenched tight.

"You two go to the store. Maybe some fresh air will help you get your shit together." You huff, choosing to walk away from the women and hole up in your room, but when you pass by Wanda, your hand accidentally grazing hers, she lets out an actual growl, the wood of the table squeaking in her hold. Her eyes burn bright red, her mouth open as she pants heavily.

"What's wrong?" You hurry to her side, cupping her jaw to inspect her face, and her hips thrust forward, her eyes closing as she whines.

"You need to go." Natasha's low voice reaches your ears, making you look at the redhead. "Leave, before it's too late."

You blink and take a step back, concern swirling in your chest. "What is going on? Let me help."

Wanda takes a deep breath, her hands trembling as she reaches for your hand.

"Wanda," Natasha warns, her tone steel-like, but Wanda pays her no mind, her fingers hot on your arm as she pulls you flush against her front, burrowing her nose in the back of your neck and grinding her hips against your backside, her rock hard cock straining in the confines of her pants.

You gasp, unconsciously arching your back to meet her messy humps, her hands curling around your waist, her mouth hot on your neck. "W-wanda."

Natasha walks around the table and you finally see her fully, see the bulge in her pants, see the veins in her tense forearms. "Leave," she croaks, "before we completely lose control."

You let an involuntary whimper, the sound making Natasha pounce on you with animalistic need. Her lips are on yours, enveloping you in their warmth, her hands are rough on your hips, squeezing and tugging you away from the other woman, but Wanda doesn't budge, growling against your neck and holding on to your waist.

Natasha stumbles back, breathless, and closes her eyes tightly, her fists clenched tight. "This is your last chance. If you don't leave now, we'll take it as your permission to do whatever we want to you."

Wanda hums against the slope of your neck, nipping and sucking on the tender skin, her hot tongue soothing the sting. You gulp, head falling back against her shoulder.

"Use me," you whisper, "do whatever you want."

Natasha's eyes flash, and then she's pushing you down to your knees. Your mouth falls open as her pants and underwear slide down her legs. Her fat cock stands proudly against her stomach, precum leaking down the tip. You barely have enough time to wet your lips before she pushes it down your throat, holding your face between her hands and fucking your mouth like her life depends on it. She throws her head back, strands of her fiery red hair framing her face as she loses herself in her desire.

Wanda mewls beside you, and you glance at her, eyes widening when you see her straining cock in her fist. She pumps it fast, her eyes on you, and you reach out, your fingers wrapping around the length. She closes her eyes, her hands settle on your shoulders as you slowly jerk her off, your throat burning from Natasha's cock. She pulls away to let you take a breath, but you don't have enough time for that - Wanda immediately takes her place, shoving herself into your mouth, her balls slapping against your chin.

You blink back tears, trying to relax your throat, but still gagging on her length.

"M'sorry, detka," she murmurs, "you'll have to take it all."

Natasha taps her tip on your cheek, her fingers tangling in your hair. You pull away, finally allowed to breathe properly, and clench your thighs at the sight of their cocks in front of your face, your wetness staining your sleep shorts as you subtly grind on your heel.

Natasha growls, and then you're pulled off the floor and thrown over the spy's shoulder. She carries you to her bedroom with ease, and throws you on the bed. Wanda hurriedly tugs off your clothes, almost ripping your underwear in haste to get you naked. Natasha is on you the second you're laid bare, ready to claim your most vulnerable part. You spread your legs, bending them at your knees, your thighs wet with your arousal. Natasha tugs you closer, and forces you on your hands and knees.

"Better," she husks, the tip of her cock pushing between your folds and into your tight heat, your walls clenching tightly around her shaft. She moans, thrusting balls deep, "Such a good pussy, taking me like a good slut."

You cry out, mouth falling wide open, and see Wanda settle in front of you, her cock still wet with your spit. She takes hold of your jaw and pushes your head down, simultaneously thrusting her cock deep inside your throat. "Fuck, Nat, we should've done this sooner."

They fuck you like you're a common whore, using your holes to their liking, Wanda's balls slapping against your chin, Natasha's palms placed possessively on your ass. You gag on the witch's shaft, tears streaming down your face, but she's too far gone in her pleasure to notice, hips snapping faster with each thrust. Natasha's length spreads your cunt almost painfully, the tip of her thick cock pushing against your cervix with each rough thrust.

Your moans send vibrations through Wanda's length, making the young witch cry out, her abs taut with tension, fingers pulling at your hair harshly. She comes down your throat with a loud moan, making you gag on her cum. You pull away, struggling to swallow the load that leaks all over your face and chest.

Natasha's thrusts become erratic as she gets closer to her own release, her fat cock sloshing in your wetness.

"Tasha- ah, please," you gasp, and she flips you on your back, changing the angle.

"Louder, baby," she pants, snapping her hips faster, her fingers leaving bruises on your hips. "I want everyone to know what a cock slut you are." Her dirty words make your head spin, your walls clenching around her thickness, trying to swallow her in.

Wanda throws one led over your stomach, now hovering over you, and pushes your breasts together before thrusting her cock between them. You eagerly open your mouth, welcoming the reddened tip. She whines and mewls as she plays with your breasts, her thumbs stroking your nipples, ready to come again just from the sight below her.

Your legs are spread wider before they're thrown over Nat's shoulders. She presses her palm against the bulge in your belly, making you scream, "Yes! Ah- Nat… Yes, yes, yes- deeper, I need you deeper."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as she thrusts one last time, releasing a load of cum into your clenching heat. The pressure inside you releases as you're hit by the most powerful orgasm you've ever had. A few seconds later Wanda follows, forcing your jaw open and thrusting the tip of her cock inside. This time you swallow it all.

She falls on the bed beside you, her body glistening with sweat as you both catch your breath. Natasha slowly pulls out, gently massaging your thighs before taking place on your other side.

"We're not done," she whispers against your ear, her palm cupping your pussy. "We're not done until we've used every single one of your holes. And after that we'll go back to the compound, and we'll do it again and again and again."

Wanda nods, grinning wolfishly, and settles over you, her cock on your lower stomach, ready to fulfill Natasha's promise.

You gulp and spread your legs wider, ready to give them everything.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #natasha romanoff x you #wanda maximoff x you #black widow x reader #scarlet witch x reader

3K notes · View notes

ilovesnat · 3 days

Text

Nat, yelling in public: Happy birthday, Y/N!

You, looking around in panic: Shut your mouth!

Nat, loudly to a passerby: It's my girlfriend's birthday!

You: Nat, I swear to God-

395 notes · View notes

just-aake · 14 days

Text

Detecting Love

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A person with the power to detect lies meets the spy who has been trained to lie her entire life.

Warnings: fluff, light angst

Words: 6169

You have the power to detect lies.

Now, it’s not exactly strong enough to be a hero, but you can honestly say that it has been useful in your life.

Sure, it gets annoying at times, but one of the many lessons you’ve learned is to ignore minor instances of dishonesty — white lies or small things like that — since it helps reduce unnecessary confusion or chaos with others.

People lie. That is an undeniable fact of life.

And while one may believe that being able to detect such things is great, the truth is there are times when you find yourself resenting your power.

Because, of course, everyone experiences moments when they wish that someone important to them isn't lying.

Like when your fiancée tells you she loves you.

There wasn’t really a malicious reason behind why a usually affectionate statement suddenly became so hurtful.

There was no cheating.

There was no fighting.

It was just another one of the many lessons you’ve learned in life.

That sometimes…a truth can also become a lie.

It’s just unfortunate that this lesson happened to you in such a way.

These kinds of moments make you wonder if maybe it’s better that people shouldn’t always know when someone is lying to them.

Then they don’t end up alone, drinking at a bar late into the night, trying to numb the pain of a broken heart.

You let out a heavy sigh as you stare at the pair of rings resting on the bar top, remembering the conversation that ended with one of them being returned to you.

It was a heart-wrenching discussion where your fiancée confessed her steadily changed feelings for you, leading to the resolution to remain friends.

And while neither of you is completely at fault for why things ended, you can’t help but blame your stupid power for putting you in the situation in the first place.

You sigh heavily once more before swiftly downing the glass the bartender had set in front of you.

At least your current attempt to drown your sorrow is going well, judging by how the rings start to blur in your vision.

With a sad sigh, you reach for the rings to put them away, but in your clumsy state, one slips from your grasp and tumbles to the floor.

Just as you move to retrieve it, a hand beats you to it.

Looking up, you find a red-haired stranger standing before you, offering the ring to you with a charming smile.

She looks familiar but the drunken haze in your brain makes it hard for you to remember where you’ve seen her before.

“Here, you dropped this,” she says, her voice low and smooth.

She’s beautiful and her voice sounds perfect. You think to yourself as you take the ring from her.

She chuckles lightly, “Thanks.”

Oh, did you say that out loud? You must be more drunk than you thought.

The woman offers her hand to you in greeting, and with a confident smirk, she introduces herself.

“My name’s Natalie. Natalie Rushman.”

Immediately, a red aura surrounds her, causing you to roll your eyes and return your attention back to the bar.

“Liar,” you mutter tiredly as you gesture to the bartender to close your tab, not really in the mood to deal with any more lies tonight.

At the corner of your eyes, you see the stranger give you a slightly impressed look.

Ready to leave, you stand up quickly from your seat.

However, the action makes the room suddenly spin in your vision, causing you to stagger backward.

A hand steadies you, resting gently on your back, and you unconsciously lean back against her surprisingly strong frame for support.

There’s a soft chuckle near your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Let me try again,” she whispers smoothly, guiding you upright and turning you around to face her.

Offering her hand once more, she reintroduces herself.

“My name’s Natasha Romanoff. I’m here to recruit you to work for the Avengers.”

You blink slowly, trying to comprehend her words through your drunken haze. You wonder if the alcohol is affecting you more than you thought when no red aura appears this time at her words.

Chuckling to yourself, you shake your head in disbelief, unfortunately worsening the pounding in your skull.

Work for the Avengers? That has to be a lie.

Before you can think about it any further, you feel yourself falling once more, unable to remain upright.

Strong arms catch you, and as your consciousness fades, you see a blurry glimpse of her striking green eyes before succumbing to darkness.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You wake to the pounding in your head and the bright sunlight streaming through your window. Turning away, you groan into your pillow, remembering that your fiancée – your ex-fiancée – would typically close the curtains before leaving for work.

Now that she’s gone, you’re going to have to adjust to living alone once again.

A cup being placed on the nightstand startles you into sitting up, as you turn in surprise to find the beautiful red-haired stranger beside your bed.

“For your headache,” she explains, placing some medicine next to the cup.

Your mouth hangs open as you struggle to remember the events of last night, some of which are honestly a blur.

You examine yourself, checking your clothes and finding them unchanged from the previous night, and then you scan your surroundings again and realize in relief that nothing was out of place.

Well, except for the presence of this stranger in your home, who’s patiently waiting for you to gather yourself.

Searching through your drunken memories, you think you vaguely remember meeting her last night. She had mentioned her name was — Nata…?

“Natalie?” you ask with uncertainty.

At her raised brow, you quickly apologize, feeling bad for not remembering correctly.

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem to remember, but did we…did something happen between us last night?” you ask hesitantly.

Her face twists in genuine sadness and disappointment, causing a panic to run through you as you struggle to recall what could’ve possibly happened between the two of you for her to have such an expression.

“I’m hurt,” she finally says, placing a hand on her chest, “And after you even said that it was the best night of your life.”

Seeing the familiar red aura appear around her at her words, you let out a brief sigh of relief before realization sets in, and you give her a hard glare.

“You’re lying.”

Her hurt expression quickly morphs into an impressed look, and you are slightly startled at how effortlessly she was able to shift her emotions.

The woman straightens her posture and crosses her arms, adopting a commanding stance that seems more likely her typical demeanor.

“So it’s not just luck,” she remarks, studying you curiously.

At her words, you quickly rise from your bed in confusion.

However, the action causes you to wince in pain at the pounding in your head.

Shutting your eyes tightly, you hold your head in comfort and lean lightly on the nightstand for support.

As you do, your hand brushes against yesterday’s newspaper that you had been reading moments before your ex said those fateful three words that led to the heartbreaking conversation between the two of you.

When the pain subsides, you slowly open your eyes, catching a glimpse of the front page before doing a double take.

The front features an article about the opening of the new Avenger Compound, including a photo capturing the Avenger members posed in front of the completed building.

What catches you off guard is the uncanny resemblance between one of the Avengers in the picture and the woman standing before you.

Pointing at her in disbelief, you stammer.

“You’re…,” then, gesturing at the newspaper, you continue, “…her?”

She doesn’t respond to your question but instead nods toward your other room, inviting you to follow.

“Let’s talk,” she says, heading toward your door, then gestures at the medicine on your nightstand. “But drink those first.”

After freshening up in your bathroom, you take a moment to stare at your reflection in the mirror, noticing the remnants of last night’s tears in your slightly puffy, red eyes.

Sighing, you brush away the depressing thoughts of your failed relationship before taking the medicine and exiting your room.

You are greeted by the sight of your unexpected guest comfortably seated at your kitchen counter, flipping through a magazine with casual disinterest.

“You’re Black Widow,” you say confidently this time, positioning yourself on the opposite side of her.

She closes the magazine with a snap, placing it on the table before clasping her hands atop of it and meeting your gaze.

“It’s actually Natasha,” she corrects you, before nodding at you. “And you’re Y/n L/n.”

“How did you…?”

She holds up a wedding invitation draft, displaying you and your fiancée’s names printed in fine lettering.

Realizing that she must have been snooping around your things, you give her a disapproving glare, snatching the card from her hand and hastily stuffing it into a drawer.

Feeling a mixture of emotions—irritated, sad, hungover—you turn to the fridge, deciding to make breakfast to give yourself some focus.

After you retrieve the eggs and other ingredients, you heat the stove before glancing at Natasha briefly, asking, “So, what does an Avenger want from me?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her resting her head against her hand, watching you with interest.

“I told you yesterday,” she replies.

You roll your eyes, giving her a deadpan look, knowing she’s aware that you don’t remember.

“Remind me again.”

Natasha gives you an amused smirk, straightening up in her seat.

“Alright, I’m here to recruit you, more specifically for a sort of managerial position at the new Avenger Compound.”

Furrowing your brows, you question, “Why me? I don't have experience with that sort of thing.”

“But you can tell when someone is lying, can’t you?”

Pausing briefly in your cooking, you contemplate her words and its possible implications. Not many people know about your ability, and you don’t think you did anything to reveal it to the spy who’s currently staring expectantly at you.

So, in response, you shrug, replying as casually as possible.

“I guess you could say I’m good at reading people…psychology degree and all.”

A silence ensues, broken only by the sizzling of your cooking, until Natasha finally nods, seemingly accepting your explanation.

You breathe a silent sigh of relief, returning your attention to your current task.

But then she pulls out a folder filled with documents and places it on the counter, causing your nerves to rise again.

“Well, you’ve helped solve hundreds of cases with your interviews of the suspects,” she remarks casually, flipping through the folder before glancing up at you through her lashes.

“100% accuracy rate in the information that you provided to the detectives,” she continues, nodding at you in acknowledgment. “For a part-time profiler, that’s impressive.”

“Thanks,” you respond with a polite smile, but beneath the surface, a hint of suspicion creeps in as you begin plating the meal you made.

Natasha closes the folder with a definitive snap, making you look at her.

“You could say it’s almost impossible,” she muses, before a confident smirk forms on her face, and she tilts her head at you with a raised brow in challenge.

“Unless there’s some way you can guarantee that they’re telling the truth.”

Honestly, you should’ve known better than to think that the experienced spy hadn’t already completed thorough research and investigations into you and your powers before meeting with you.

If anything, this was likely just a test for her to confirm what she already knows about your abilities.

Sliding a plate across the counter to Natasha with a pointed glare, you relent, deciding there’s no point in denying it anymore.

“Fine, what do you know?”

Instead of responding, Natasha’s gaze lingers on the plate before her, a hint of confusion in her expression.

Her plate holds a fluffy omelette accompanied by a side of crispy bacon and a slice of golden-brown toasted bread.

As she glances back up at you with a questioning look in her eyes, you take a seat across from her, setting down a similar plate in front of you before also placing a stack of fluffy pancakes at the center.

“What’s this?” she asks, gesturing to the meal.

“Breakfast,” you reply bluntly, taking a bite from your plate.

Natasha raises a brow at you, remarking plainly, “It’s noon.”

“Brunch then,” you correct with a roll of your eyes.

Natasha's lips quirk up in amusement, and she shakes her head.

“Thanks, but I’ve already eaten.”

The red aura appears around her, and with your mouth full of food, you give her a pointed glare.

“Right,” Natasha says in realization, remembering what you can do. She pulls the plate closer to her with a soft thanks.

The atmosphere that followed was unusual but surprisingly not awkward. Despite being practically strangers, you find yourself slightly comforted by Natasha’s presence.

If she wasn’t here, you probably wouldn’t have dragged yourself out of bed today after what happened yesterday.

After a moment of eating, Natasha breaks the silence.

“So, how can you tell when someone’s lying?”

Pausing to contemplate your answer, you wipe your mouth with a napkin before responding.

“Well, when someone lies, there’s always this rush of chemicals that happens in their bodies,” you explain. “It ends up causing the typical indicators — things like fidgeting, sweating, or tone changes in their voice.”

“I didn’t do any of that, yet you still knew I was lying,” Natasha points out.

“No, you're right,” you admit, nodding. “You’re a perfect liar.”

From what you have seen so far, every expression and comment of hers appears genuine and honest, and if it was anyone else, they’d probably believe anything she says.

However, thanks to your ability, you know better.

Gesturing at her, you clarify, “You still give off the same chemical reactions though, and I have the ability to see that.”

Natasha leans back in her seat, crossing her arms as she processes your explanation.

“It’s mainly visual then,” she concludes before asking curiously. “You don’t even need to hear what they said to know that they’re lying?”

You nod, ruefully adding, “Yep, my world’s just filled with people glowing red at random.”

“And how long does this ‘glow’ stay around them?”

“Depends,” you reply with a shrug. “Usually not long, maybe a few seconds.”

Natasha hums in interest, tapping her chin, her brows pinching lightly in thought.

You can’t help but smile amusedly at the sight.

For a person who has such an intimidating reputation, the spy in front of you right now looks kind of cute rather than scary.

After a moment, you break the silence this time.

“So, what’s the job?”

Natasha’s eyes focus back on you at your question.

“Nothing too complicated,” she assures. “You’ll be in charge of interviewing the new employee candidates and conducting continuous reviews of the current ones.”

“You mean like screening them?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion, already aware of the rigorous and difficult process required to work at the Avengers buildings.

“Don’t you guys already do extensive background checks before hiring people? Why do you suddenly need me?”

At your question, a charming smile appears on her face, effortlessly shifting her expression like before, though now you understand she’s just hiding her true feelings about the situation.

“That’s confidential.”

You scoff in disbelief and cross your arms.

“You do know that just makes it harder to trust you, right?”

Natasha mirrors your posture, her pretty grin still in place, masking any other emotions.

“Fair point,” she admits. “But to be honest, you should never put your trust in people like me anyway.”

“People like you?”

“Spies,” Natasha clarifies as she begins to gather her empty plate and utensils. “Which is one of the types of people you’d be looking out for in this position. Their deception skills would be on a similar level to mine.”

You chuckle at that, causing Natasha to pause in her actions, raising a brow at you in question.

“Sorry, but everyone lies, whether you’re a spy or not,” you tell her, standing and taking the empty plate from her with a small smirk. “You’re just slightly better at it.”

A tiny offended look slips through Natasha’s expression at your little jab, her brow furrowing for a brief second.

Your grin widens at the sight of seeing a glimpse of her real self as you turn to place the dirty dishes in the sink.

Natasha quickly regains her composure, moving around the counter to lean back against the table next to you.

“In any case, the decision is still yours. I’ve already confirmed your abilities. It’s up to you to decide if you want to accept.”

At her words, you pause to consider your options.

A new job working with the Avengers is a great opportunity, but it would be a significant change in your life.

Then again, you’re already facing a huge change.

Your eyes unconsciously drift to the drawer next to where Natasha is leaning, where the wedding invitation draft remains, and your face twists in sadness at the memory.

You guess it wouldn’t hurt to add a career change alongside your new relationship status.

At least this way you can still earn a salary while also distracting yourself from the depressing thoughts of your failed engagement.

“Okay,” you decide, meeting Natasha’s gaze with a sigh, “I’ll take the job.”

“Great, I knew you would be agreeable,” Natasha remarks, extending her hand to you.

A red aura appears around her, causing you to huff and roll your eyes.

You take her hand in yours, giving her a tiny glare.

“Liar.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

You say that as you dodge another swing from Natasha, ducking under her arm to get behind her, only for her to twist her body around and deliver a kick that you narrowly block with your arms.

Still, the impact has you stumbling back.

“Really?” Natasha asks with an innocent tone as she circles you. “I thought I mentioned to you that training was a part of your employment.”

A red aura begins to appear around her, but you don’t have time to comment before she swings her leg at you again.

You catch it against your side with a small grunt of pain.

Having been a profiler for criminal cases before, you do have basic defense training, and you always believed that you could hold your own against most aggressors.

At least you used to.

This current fight is making you reconsider your skills.

With her off-balance position, you attempt to throw her to the ground, but Natasha swiftly regains her footing, catching herself on her hands and executing a fluid movement to flip upright. She then bends low, sweeping your legs out from under you.

You land on the mat with a groan, feeling the impact reverberate through your body. Another pained breath escapes you as Natasha expertly pins you down.

You catch the faint red aura fading from her before throwing your head back against the mat with an exhausted sigh.

“You’re such a liar,” you breathe out, your voice tinged with both exhaustion and playful accusation. Closing your eyes, you take a moment to catch your breath.

Natasha's laughter fills the air, resonating above you, her amusement infectious and drawing a small grin from you. You peek open your eyes, watching as she disengages from atop you and heads over to her water bottle at the side.

“I’m a spy. It comes with the job,” she says casually, taking a sip.

“Okay, and I’m basically just HR,” you counter, pulling yourself upright into a sitting position. “So how does combat training fit into that?”

Natasha gestures towards you with a sweep of her hand.

“You need to be prepared to defend yourself if you ever expose someone dangerous and find yourself without backup,” she explains.

“That’s unlikely considering I haven’t even encountered anyone suspicious since I started,” you remark with a sigh.

It's been a month already, and you're starting to question if your presence here is even necessary.

Before you can dwell further on your thoughts, the cold touch of a metal water bottle against your cheek startles you.

Recoiling, you look up to see Natasha holding it out to you.

Raising a brow, Natasha waves the bottle lightly in offer.

You snatch the bottle from her with a tiny glare, but she only smirks in response.

Apart from the new job, the other surprising addition to your life is your budding friendship with the Avenger.

After the whole recruiting ordeal, you honestly expected to only have passing encounters with her at the compound.

However, to your surprise, on your first day here, Natasha was the one who volunteered to give you a tour of the place, and in the days that followed, the two of you would often share coffee and chat before you had to head off to your respective jobs.

Those regular interactions with her also earned you a fearsome reputation among the other workers, which actually works out in your favor since they’re already nervous by the time you call them in for a review. This way they are more likely to slip up and reveal anything they may be hiding.

But, like you said, you haven’t found anything substantial yet.

With a heavy sigh, you pull your knees to your chest, resting your forehead against them, feeling the weight of failure bearing down on you.

Then you hear Natasha plop down beside you.

“Back when we met, you asked me why we needed you,” she begins.

Curious at her words, you turn your head slightly to glance at her, waiting for her explanation.

Natasha leans back on her hands, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as she continues to speak.

“A couple of months ago, our surveillance revealed that someone within the compound staff was plotting an attack during the opening ceremony of the new building. However, we couldn’t confirm who it was without risking exposing that we knew of their plan."

Your eyes widen in confusion at the revelation. From what you remember, the opening ceremony was a success. There hadn’t been any news of an attack that day.

“But you caught them, right?” you inquire.

“No,” Natasha responds, shaking her head before meeting your gaze. “You did.”

Surprised, you straighten up, giving her a questioning look.

Natasha offers a small smile, elaborating, “You had recently interviewed him as a suspect for another case, and in your notes, you labeled him as dangerous and untrustworthy, despite everything about him proving otherwise.”

“And you believed me?” you ask incredulously.

Natasha shrugs, “Well, I had no other leads at the time anyway.”

You scoff in exasperation at her teasing, playfully pushing her away.

She chuckles softly before adopting a more serious expression.

“Trust in your abilities, Y/n,” Natasha says with a genuine tone. “If it’s you, not finding anyone suspicious is a good thing.”

You watch her closely, waiting for the red aura to appear.

But as a couple of seconds pass and nothing changes, you tuck your forehead back against your knees, this time to hide the smile threatening to spread across your face.

“Alright, break’s over,” Natasha announces, giving your back an encouraging pat. “Let’s go again.”

You groan in reluctance, remaining in your curled-up position.

“Come on,” Natasha urges, her tone coaxing. “I’ll go easy on you this time.”

You don’t even need to look up to know the red aura is surrounding her.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“What’s this?”

Natasha's voice draws your attention away from the task of pouring cooked popcorn into a bowl.

She's sitting on your sofa, examining a small, elegant card that you had accidentally left on the table.

Widening your eyes in realization of what she’s found, you hurry over to her, but her narrowed eyes tell you that she has already read the names on the card.

“She’s inviting you to her wedding?” Natasha exclaims, disbelief coloring her tone. “It’s only been a year since your breakup, and now she’s already getting married?!”

Sighing in disappointment, you had hoped to keep this information from Natasha, who developed a strong dislike for your ex after you shared the details of your breakup during one of your girls' nights.

Placing the bowl of popcorn on the table, you take the invitation from her hand and head to the kitchen, intending to tuck it away in a drawer.

As you slide it open, you catch the sight of the old wedding draft buried at the bottom, which causes a tiny pang of sadness in your chest at the memory of that time, of how everything changed so suddenly.

You can't help but wonder how your life might have unfolded if your engagement hadn't ended.

Would you still have accepted Natasha's offer if you hadn't been seeking a distraction from your failed relationship?

“You’re not thinking about going, are you?” Natasha's voice interrupts your thoughts.

Glancing up, you notice a peculiar look in her eyes, though it quickly shifts to a neutral expression at your gaze.

After a whole year of spending time together, you could tell underneath her impassive expression that she was upset about something; though, you figured it was just outrage at the situation.

Tossing the invitation into the drawer and shutting it, you offer her a small reassuring smile before returning to your seat beside her to start the movie.

“No, of course not,” you tell her.

As the opening scenes play, you maintain a normal, nonchalant expression, aware of Natasha's gaze still lingering on you even as the red aura fades from around your body.

After a while, Natasha huffs in disbelief before finally settling into the sofa, pulling the bowl of popcorn into her lap.

“You better be sharing that, Romanoff,” you tease, your eyes fixed on the screen.

Natasha scoffs before tossing a piece of popcorn at you.

“Of course, I will.”

Just as you're about to turn your head to look at her and confirm her honesty, she swiftly shoves a cushion pillow to the side of your face, blocking your view.

After a few seconds, she releases it, fluffing the cushion casually before leaning her head against your shoulder and tossing another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

You chuckle at her antics, amused by her playful behavior, before returning your attention to the screen.

A few days later, you find yourself standing on the outskirts of the wedding area, observing as servers and workers hustle to complete the finishing touches.

A sad, bittersweet expression tugs at your lips as you recognize familiar details chosen by your ex, mingled with hints of a stranger’s preferences in the decorations.

To be honest, you don’t intend to stay for the wedding. You're just here to confirm something for yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, conjuring your ex’s face in your mind, and whisper to yourself.

“I’m in love with her…”

Opening your eyes, you exhale slowly, a content smile on your lips as you notice the red aura surrounding your skin. It's a relief to be able to find closure regarding your feelings for your ex.

“You know, I don’t need powers to know you were lying,” a voice remarks from behind.

Startled, you turn to find Natasha approaching.

She stops beside you, her gaze fixed at the scene ahead as she accuses, “Saying that you weren’t going to come here.”

You look at her briefly before returning your attention to the field.

“I got curious about something,” you admit. “Figured that this was one way to confirm it.”

Excited and happy chatter fills the air as your ex appears, surrounded by friends and family.

Suddenly, thoughts of what-ifs from the other night resurface, prompting you to ask out loud unconsciously before you can stop yourself.

“Do you think I should’ve just pretended that she was telling the truth at that time — when she said she loved me?” you ask Natasha. “Maybe it might’ve worked out between us if I just kept my mouth shut.”

There’s a beat of silence before Natasha finally responds, her tone tinged with wistfulness.

“From my experience,” she begins, “I can tell you that living a lie would not make you happy…no matter how much you wish for it to be true.”

You chuckle lightly, “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am,” Natasha says confidently.

A comfortable silence falls between you as you both observe the preparations from a distance.

“She is a fool for letting you go, though,” Natasha suddenly adds, her tone casual.

You laugh softly, gently chiding her, “You can’t call the bride that on her wedding day.”

“Alright then,” Natasha concedes, turning to you. “You’re an even bigger fool for coming here by yourself.”

She returns her gaze to the field, muttering under her breath with a hint of irritation, “…still visiting the one who broke your heart.”

Amused, you tilt your head to catch her eyes, chuckling at her words, as you tease, “You know, it almost sounds like you’re jealous.”

When Natasha doesn’t respond or look at you, you raise a brow in surprise and poke her side.

“Wait, seriously, are you jealous?”

She swats your hand away.

“Stop that,” Natasha reprimands, before gritting out, “I’m not jealous!”

A small grin forms on your face as you notice the red aura appear, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and walk away.

“I’m leaving,” she declares firmly.

“Aww, come on, Natasha,” you call as you trail behind her.

Glancing back at you and seeing your pleased expression, she points at you in warning.

“That smile better be off your face by the time I pull up, or else you’re walking home,” she states before continuing on her way.

Watching her go with a fond smile, you find yourself softly repeating the words.

“I’m in love with her.”

Looking down, your smile widens when you don’t see the red aura appear, confirming what you already knew about your feelings for the red-haired spy.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

As you sit in your office at the Avenger compound, you feel a sense of fatigue wash over you at your busy schedule of back-to-back interviews.

Across from you, the final candidate squirms in her seat, clearly nervous under your scrutinizing gaze.

A chill sweeps through the room, courtesy of the cold blast of air from the AC, and you can't help but regret your decision to have it set so cold, a choice originally intended to maintain an intimidating atmosphere during interviews.

With a sigh, you reluctantly pull your hands from the cozy warmth of your hoodie pocket and turn to the next page of questions.

"Let's talk about handling confidential information," you begin, your voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Can you share a time when you had to ensure the secure handling of sensitive data?"

The candidate responds with some slight hesitation, but you sense it’s more from her nerves than any dishonesty, so you continue, moving on to the remaining questions.

Luckily, the rest of the interview goes by quickly and smoothly with her answering the other questions without any problems.

However, now comes the final question of the interview.

“Among the Avengers, who do you consider to be the hottest?”

Clearly caught off-guard, she stumbles over her words, “W-what?”

Maintaining your serious demeanor, you repeat the question.

“Who do you believe is the hottest Avenger?”

After a moment's pause, she softly answers, “Black Widow..."

Setting your clipboard down, you extend your hand.

"Thank you for coming. It was nice meeting you," you say, signaling the end of the interview.

As she thanks you and leaves, you flip to the last paper on your clipboard, revealing a sheet with tick marks beside the names of your Avenger friends.

With an amused smile, you add another mark at the end of Natasha’s already leading line.

“I don’t think that last question was approved by Steve,” a voice accuses from the doorway.

Glancing up, you see Natasha leaning against the frame, her arms folded.

You shrug in response, “Makes it more interesting though.”

Natasha hums curiously before moving to your side, perching on the edge of your desk. Her narrowed eyes fix on you.

“Is that my hoodie?” she asks in suspicion as she tugs at your sleeve.

“Maybe,” you reply, hastily pulling the hood over your head to conceal your guilty eyes.

Natasha had left the piece of clothing at your place after her last visit, and given the chilly room, borrowing it seemed harmless enough.

“Don’t you have a briefing to get to?” you deflect, attempting to change the subject.

Natasha huffs knowingly before responding, "I had some spare time, so I came to bother you."

"I’m honored," you quip sarcastically, though inwardly your heart warmed at the fact that she thought of you.

Natasha chuckles lightly, then gestures towards your clipboard.

"Ask me some questions," she prompts, her tone playful yet eager.

Deciding to indulge her, you reach for your clipboard and adopt a serious demeanor.

“Name?” you begin.

Natasha shoots you a deadpan look, prompting you to show her the document with the question written on it.

“If they lie about their name, then that’s a red flag already,” you defend, giving her a pointed look.

“Natalie,” you mock.

Natasha chuckles, shaking her head at the memory before extending her hand.

“It’s actually Natasha,” she corrects, playing along.

Skipping past the other general questions, you delve into more targeted inquiries related to threat assessment.

“Have you ever been associated with any extremist or radical groups or organizations?” you ask.

“If you consider working undercover to gain intel on them, then yes,” Natasha responds without hesitation.

“Have you ever participated or been involved in any violent behavior where someone was hurt?”

This one makes her pause for a moment before she finally admits softly, "…yes."

As the questioning continues, Natasha's playful demeanor gradually fades, replaced by a rueful tone.

By the time you reach the final question, she places her hand on your clipboard, gently setting it down on the desk.

"Maybe these questions aren’t meant for people like me," she says sadly, her tone filled with regret.

Observing her disappointed expression, you scoot closer and rest your hand on hers to draw her attention.

“Do you still want to hear my final assessment?” you ask gently.

After a contemplative pause, Natasha nods, curiosity evident in her eyes as she gestures for you to continue.

“Well, based on your answers,” you say with a dramatic pause, flipping through the papers before shaking your head firmly.

“Absolutely not. Extremely dangerous. Definitely a high-risk candidate.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief at your teasing and gives you a playful push. As your laughter subsides, you soften your tone, meeting her gaze sincerely.

“But…I’d trust you,” you admit genuinely.

Natasha's eyes widen slightly before she averts her gaze, clearing her throat. Her fingers toy with the clipboard, flipping to the last page and seeing the score sheet, before chuckling in amusement.

Turning back to you, she tilts her head with a raised brow.

“I don’t get the special question?” she asks.

You take the clipboard from her, offering a knowing look as you begin to organize the documents on your desk.

“I think we both already know your answer to that question,” you reply.

“Then ask me another,” Natasha insists.

Her request makes you pause as you ponder what to ask. Only one thing comes to mind, the question you’ve been hesitating to ask her for a long time.

Meeting her expectant gaze, you find yourself wanting to know the answer, despite the fear in your mind at the possibility of causing another big change in your life again.

Summoning your courage, you face her directly.

“Would you…,” you start, faltering momentarily before gathering yourself with a deep breath.

“...would you say ‘yes’ if I asked you out on a date tonight?”

There's a moment of silence, and just as you consider retracting the question, Natasha reaches out and adjusts the hood atop your head.

Perplexed by her action, you watch her suspiciously. Then, in one swift motion, she pulls the hood down over your eyes, obscuring your vision.

“No,” her voice responds to your question.

Hearing her stand, you quickly remove the hood to see Natasha already making her way out of the door, but before she disappears from your view, you catch the red aura surrounding her slowly fading away.

As an excited smile spreads across your face at the revelation of her true answer, your phone on the desk pings with a new message. Glancing at the screen, you see a text from Natasha.

I’ll pick you up tonight.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading! I know I said I was going to take a little break, but I had some time so I ended up finishing this and decided to post it now instead of later.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

2K notes · View notes

notanactressyayy · 30 days

Text

—𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭—

pairing . Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary . she needs you, in multiple ways — she's just scared to ask for it.

warnings . smut — I am NOT responsible for the content you consume — thigh riding, scissoring, fingering, vulnerable sex (because yes), taking care of Nat because she deserves it.

notes . English is not my first language, I'm brazilian, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes. this is probably the first fic I ever post so hi hi!!!

(I'm sorry if this is bad, I literally wrote that in a waiting room, completely in a rush.)

divider credits: @cafekitsune ^^

You didn't know exactly why the TV was on. You weren't interested on the show, and Natasha wasn't even looking at it. Her eyes looked down as she fidgeted with her fingers. You could tell she was anxious, that something was bothering her.

You just never expected that this was something to do with you — no, you didn't do anything wrong. It was her.

Natasha and you met years ago, and had been in a situationship for a while now. You weren't friends, but somehow, you couldn't recall the time you started dating (because it never existed). Friends with benefits was too cliché, and maybe not enough to describe what you actually had with her.

To begin with it, you met Natasha when she was still an Avenger. You were never part of the team, but they treated you as if you were. You were close to everyone, but specially Natasha. There was a reason she had let that happen, since according to her, she was in New York to be a hero, and not to have friends.

Friends.

The moment the russian started to blush whenever Thor teased her about how close she was to you or when you simply stared at her for a few seconds or more was when she realized that she made a mistake. A good one, she hoped. In a heartbeat, she was telling you her story.

You listened — just, listened. Your hand went to brush her hair behind her ear whenever she looked down, and the sparkle of pride in your eyes was not something she could miss. You didn't pity her. You didn't try to bring up a justification for what she went through, or to bring up a solution to fix her. You were proud of her for who she became, and were there for her whenever she didn't want to be that person for a while.

It was with that trust in you that she found herself wanting, craving even, something more. She's human, wether she like it or not. She can't deny her feelings or urges, not even the most dangerous spy can.

So her walls broke when you said you were going with her to Norway after the Avengers split.

Natasha shifted a little in the couch, the blankets around her getting all crumpled as she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Your focus went from the soft patting of the raindrops in the window to the woman next to you, as you frowned a bit.

"Nat?" you called, leaning your side against the backrest of the couch and looking at her. "What's wrong?"

She turned to you, a little startled, but tried to shake it off with a small grin. "Oh, it's nothing. It's just a little hot in here."

"We're in Norway," you laughed, giving her that goddamn smile of yours. "And.. it's raining."

"The..." she shook her head, failing miserably to come up with an excuse. "The blankets are making me hot."

"Mhm, are they?" you raised an eyebrow, and pulled the blankets off you both, and letting half of them fall to the floor. "Better?"

Natasha shivered, but nodded nonetheless. You saw she was unquiet, and that this looked a little more serious than the normal.

"Natasha."

"Yeah?"

"What is going on?" you repeated your question, scooting closer to her and placing your hand above hers — just to make things worse.

Natasha almost whined at your action, which made you pull your hand back and frown even more. "I'm sorry,"

"No, it's not your fault." she shook her head. "It's mine."

"Then tell me." you smiled softly, lifting her head up to meet your eyes with your pointer finger. The sight of her green orbs was something you maybe never saw before.

"I..." she mumbled, clearing her throat. She then grabbed your hand and held your wrist gently, not sure of what to do next. "I don't know."

"It's okay," you whispered, bringing her hand up and placing a kiss on it. You had no problem with being affectionate and she didn't mind either, but today, it was different.

"Y/n". Natasha whispered back, looking into your eyes and getting lost in them. She was clearly unsure of what to do, and how to express what she was feeling. So she brought your hand up and placed your palm above her heart. Faster than the speed of light.

"Hey..." you cooed, tilting your head as you felt the aggressive beating against your hand. "You... are you, scared of something?"

"No." she quickly shook her head. She wasn't having any negative emotions right now. "I'm not anxious, I'm not scared.. I'm just.."

"Just what?"

The fact she was not having an anxious episode or a panic attack made you slightly relaxed, but not completely — then you realized, the touches you were giving her made her sensitive. She was needy.

The Red Room turned her into a closed person, and that didn't completely vanish when she was with you — it was like there was a bug in her system that had to be fixed, soon. She couldn't be totally open, but not completely closed.

You smiled at the thought, and leaned in closer, inches away from her face, which made her breathing uneven. "Tell me what you need, Nat."

"I..." she took a deep inhale and placed her hand on your cheek, pulling you into an unexpected kiss — a desperate one.

She kissed you frantically, her movements with urgency as she placed her hands behind your neck, trying to pull you close. You couldn't say you expected this, but it wasn't unwelcomed either.

Your hands went to her waist as she shyly crawled onto your lap, her legs hooking around your hips as she pulled away for air, her forehead against yours.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she breathed, feeling her eyes start to burn with unleashed tears.

"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for." you murmured, arms gently wrapping around her as she straddled you. "It's okay, let's not rush things. Let's take deep breaths, mhm?"

The fact you wanted her to calm down before anything almost calmed her down instantly, but she breathed with you, then leaned her head on yours, her cheek on your hair.

"I just need something," she whispered, more calmly now. "I—I think I need you."

"And I'm here," you turned your head to press a kiss on her temple, caressing her back. The redhead melted.

Natasha leaned down to kiss your lips again, but not with urgency. She sighed softly against your lips, her hands moving to hold your face, and yours, to hold her waist. It didn't take long for her to start moving slowly — she shifted, instead of straddling your lap, her legs were around your thigh. Your eyes opened, and you broke the kiss to look at her.

"Nat, my love," you whispered. "Are you sure of this?"

"Please." she uttered back, closing her eyes and gripping your shoulders. "I know you'd ever hurt me.. you would never disrespect me, you would stop if I asked you to. Right... right?"

You smiled sadly, realizing she was trying to reassure herself, and not actually ask you this. "Yes, yes, Natasha. I want to take care of you. I want to see you, beyond that shell they turned you in. I want you to feel comfortable enough with me to ask for this, and this is such a big step for you."

She sighed in relief, hearing the honesty in your voice. She nodded, clearing her throat. She leaned down, hiding her face on the crook of her neck and pressing small, gentle kisses on it. Then her hips started to slowly move, and the tiniest bit of friction made her gasp. "Y/n..."

"Shh," you held her hips, guiding her through her own pace. The little high waisted shorts she wore rolled up, so surprisingly thick that you could feel her wetness. "That's great, Natty. Move yourself for me, like this."

Natasha whined at your words, starting to grind against you slightly faster. The clothes were starting to feel uncomfortable, as she felt the need of you seeing her. She grabbed your hands, and slowly moved them underneath her blouse.

You did what she wanted, grazing your fingernails against her skin and slowly massaging her flesh, resulting in a soft moan of hers. "Take it off." You looked at her with a questioning look, even if you had an idea of what she was asking for. "Undress me, Y/n."

Given her permission, you smoothly lifted her blouse and pulled it over her head, letting it fall to the floor. She stopped her movements briefly, just so you could slide her shorts and panties down her thighs, her heat now in contact with your leg making you groan.

She felt your hands moving up to unclasp her bra and smirked softly, holding her arms out so you could take down the straps. That woman was surely breathtaking, her body, her marks, her scars, her voice, her everything.

"Natty," you uttered, pressing kisses in the valley between her breasts and moving up, to her ear. "There's so much I wanna do with you..."

Natasha closed her eyes, your touch making her shiver again, as she began to fastly grind her pussy against your thigh. "Please." she quickly removed your shirt and soon enough, you both were completely naked.

The feeling of skin against hers, the human touch that she never felt when getting off with a strap while thinking of you was unbelievable, a touch that she knew that wouldn't hurt her. It was so good, so different from the men she seduced when a spy, so different from the men that touched her in the Red Room.

"My pretty girl," you hissed, throwing your leg above hers and starting to grind yourself with her. "So beautiful, and all mine."

"Yes," she panted, burying her face in your neck again as her nails lightly scratched your back. "Y/n, please."

"You're coming with me." you sweetly commanded. Natasha started to whisper things in Russian that you couldn't really understand, but you took it as a sign that she was close.

Soon enough, Natasha's legs started to shake and her moans on your ear got slightly louder, you both coming together, her juices mixing with yours. She didn't stop, though. You gasped, looking up at her. She still needed more.

"Touch me." Natasha growled, grabbing your hand and moving it close to her cunt. She was starting to feel confident, and you liked it.

You didn't think twice before burying your middle and pointer fingers on her hole, using your thumb to slowly rub circles on her clit, biting your lip at the sight of her back arched. All for you.

"God, Y/n," she moaned, using her own hands to squeeze her breasts and circle her hard nipples. "Yes, just like that."

"You like it like this?" you asked, shoving one more finger inside her, her moans getting louder. She slowly started to lift herself from your fingers, just to lower her hips again, riding your fingers. "You're gonna come for me again?"

"Yes!" she nodded frantically, her breaths coming in little gasps for air. She gripped your shoulders tightly, throwing her head back and orgasming again. It took a while for her to calm down, and you didn't waste time before gently taking her and laying her down on the couch, spreading her legs and pressing soft kisses on her inner thighs, licking her juices and making her squirm around.

"Y/n," she murmured quietly, reaching her arms out.

"Oh, baby." you pulled Nat into an embrace, holding her close to your chest and caressing her hair, running your fingers through her red locks. "It's alright."

Natasha whimpered, wanting to hide herself in your arms and never come out again. She closed her eyes and laid her head on your chest, arms circling your waist.

The talk about this could wait. The silence was comfortable enough for now.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff soft smut #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff smut #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha marvel #marvel #Spotify

1K notes · View notes