My page might come across as dark but I'm a very bright and bubbly when you really know me! I'm also a little. i don't regress a lot but it might reflect on my page and how i write. i love hello kitty! i write when i have free time after work. I write a lot of marvel but i also love law & order: SVU, and my fav comedian Taylor Tomlinson. i also love writing angst. I'm hoping to go to collage for political science soon! uhhh that's it. bye.
Notes: im back. got some more lore so i thought id write about it. if i dont joke i will probs cry lmao. anyways enjoy and dont read if you might get triggered.
The door closes quieter than it should, not because you’re careful, but because your hands are shaking too much to slam it.
For a second, you just stand there, completely still, like if you don’t move, maybe none of it followed you home.
The apartment is dim. Safe. Familiar.
It doesn’t feel like yours.
Your keys are still in your hand. You don’t remember unlocking the door, or the walk up, or even leaving in the first place. Everything between then and now feels blurred out, wiped clean except for fragments that won’t go away: a wall too close, breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat, and his eyes.
That’s the part that won’t leave. Not even what he did, not really:just that shift. That moment where something behind his eyes went empty. Dark. Wrong. Like you stopped being a person to him, like you were something he had already decided about.
Your stomach twists, and you finally force yourself to move, slow and careful, like the floor might give out if you step wrong.
“Hey.”
You freeze.
You hadn’t realized she was home.
Natasha is sitting on the couch, one arm resting along the back, posture loose. but her eyes are already on you. Sharp. Observant. Always noticing.
“You’re back early.”
You nod too quickly. “Yeah. Just…tired.”
Your voice sounds wrong, too flat, like it doesn’t belong to you. Natasha’s gaze flicks over you once: quick, practiced, cataloguing, and you recognize it immediately. You’ve seen her do that on missions, taking in everything without saying a word.
She doesn’t call you out on it.
“Eat?” she asks instead.
You shake your head. “Already did.”
A lie.
You don’t wait for her to respond, moving past her too fast, too quiet, like if you linger even a second longer, she’ll see something you can’t hide. “Going to shower,” you mutter, already halfway down the hall.
She hums softly behind you, letting you go.for now.
The bathroom light is too bright when you flick it on, but you don’t turn it down. You don’t turn it off. You just stand there under it, staring at yourself in the mirror like you’re trying to recognize something.anything.
Your reflection looks… normal.
That’s the worst part. Nothing looks different. Nothing shows.
Your throat tightens.
“I didn’t say no.”
The words slip out before you can stop them, your hands gripping the edge of the sink as if that’s the only thing keeping you upright. “I said no before,” you whisper. “Over text. I said I didn’t want anything.”
Your reflection doesn’t answer.
“I didn’t say it there.”
Your stomach churns. “I didn’t say anything.”
Because you couldn’t. Because your brain had gone blank.
You close your eyes, and the memory comes back in pieces:a hand too close, the wall behind you, no space, no exit. Move. You didn’t. Say something. Nothing came.
Just that awful, frozen stillness, like your body wasn’t yours anymore. Like reacting might make it worse. Like staying still was the safest option.
Your fingers curl tighter against the sink.
“I should’ve done something,” you breathe, the words sharper now, turning inward. “I’m bigger than him. I’m taller…I could’ve pushed him, I could’ve-”
You cut yourself off, because you didn’t. And that feels louder than anything else.
That thought follows you out of the bathroom, lingering even as you crawl into bed hours later, staring at the ceiling until the dark feels suffocating. Sleep never really comes:just fragments of it, broken by that same image, that same look in his eyes.
By the time you sit up at 3:12 in the morning, your chest is tight, your breathing uneven, your hands trembling again. The room feels smaller, closer, like the walls are leaning in, and no matter how many steady breaths you try to take, it doesn’t help.
You end up on the floor with your back pressed against the bed, knees pulled in, waiting for your body to calm down.
It doesn’t.
Morning comes anyway.
The jeans stay in the drawer.
You don’t even hesitate, you reach for the baggiest clothes you own instead. Sweatpants, a hoodie, layers that swallow you whole. Too much fabric, not enough skin. When you glance at yourself before leaving, you look smaller somehow, contained.
Good.
Natasha notices.
Of course she does.
She doesn’t say anything about the clothes, not yet, but later that afternoon her attention shifts to something else. something missing.
“You haven’t been coloring,” she says lightly.
You freeze midstep.
It’s subtle, but she catches it. The corner of the living room is untouched:coloring books stacked neatly, markers organized exactly how she helped you set them up. The 500-count set she bought you after you mentioned wanting more shades of pink sits unopened.
You haven’t touched any of it.
Not once.
“I’ve just been busy,” you say quickly.
Too quickly.
Her eyes flicker, unconvinced, but she only hums and lets it drop, or at least, pretends to.
The days after that blur together in a way that makes it hard to tell where one ends and the next begins. Some days you feel almost normal, laughing too loud, talking too fast, convincing yourself maybe it wasn’t that bad, maybe you’re overreacting.
And then the crash comes.
You can’t get out of bed. Your chest feels heavy, your thoughts louder, meaner.You went there. You stayed. You didn’t say no. What did you think was going to happen?
You press your hands over your ears like that might stop it, but it doesn’t.
Work becomes unbearable. Every noise is too sharp, every movement too close. When someone brushes past you, you flinch hard enough that they notice, and all you can do is nod when they apologize because your voice won’t come out.
You start hiding in the bathroom during breaks, gripping the sink, trying to breathe. Some days you don’t go in at all. You call out, make excuses, sit on your bed staring at the wall for hours because you just can’t handle it.
At some point, you notice the date. April.
It doesn’t mean anything; until it does.
A post. A sign. A conversation you weren’t meant to overhear. Sexual Assault Awareness Month. Your stomach drops. Of course.
A bitter laugh almost escapes. “Of course I put myself in that position this month.”
The shame hits harder, sharper, and you shut your phone off like that might make it go away.
It doesn’t.
Natasha doesn’t push, but she watches. She pieces things together:the jeans, the baggy clothes, the untouched coloring supplies, the way you flinch, the way you don’t sleep, the way you hover instead of settling anywhere.The way your eyes track exits now. Always exits.
She knows that one too well.
So when she finds you in the kitchen one evening, standing at the counter doing nothing, just trying to keep yourself grounded, she doesn’t ignore it this time.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” she says gently.
Your shoulders tense. “I haven’t.”
“You have.”
You turn too fast, already defensive. “I’ve just been busy.”
Her gaze doesn’t waver. “Try again.”
Your chest tightens, and you look away. and that’s when she knows.
Not suspects. Knows.
She steps closer, slow and careful. “What happened?”
The question hits like a slap. “Nothing.”
“Don’t do that.”
“I said nothing happened.”
Her voice stays calm, but it sharpens. “Something did.”
Silence stretches tight between you, and your hands start shaking again. “I just-” Your voice cracks. “I made a bad choice.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is,” you snap, louder now. “I went there. I stayed. I-”
You stop, breathing uneven, and she doesn’t look away.
“Tell me.”
Something in you gives.
“I didn’t say no.”
The words land heavy, ugly, final. She doesn’t react the way you expect. No shock, no judgment, just quiet attention.
“I said no before,” you rush out. “Over text. I told him I didn’t want anything, but when I got there I just- I didn’t know what to do.”
The kitchen suddenly feels too small, too close. You take a step back, then another, until your back hits the counter and your breath stutters.
“I should’ve left,” you say, panic rising. “I should’ve known. I barely knew him, Nat, I had so many chances to cancel and I didn’t because I wanted to go and now-”
“Hey-”
“I was bigger than him!” you snap, the words exploding out of you. “I’m taller, I’m stronger, I could’ve done something!”
Your hands shake as you gesture wildly. “Do you know what they’d say if I reported it? They’d look at me and laugh. They’d say, ‘You expect us to believe you couldn’t get away?’”
Her jaw tightens.
“I froze!” you shout. “I just stood there and I didn’t do anything and I hate that because I could have-”
“You don’t know that-”
“I do!” you cut her off. “And it’s not even the first time!”
That hangs there, heavy and raw.
“They didn’t believe me then,” you whisper. “Why would they believe me now?”
Silence follows.
You shake your head, stepping away. “I’m not reporting it. I’m not doing this again.”
She doesn’t argue. That somehow makes it worse.
“I’m not telling anyone,” you add quickly. “I don’t want this to be a thing. I don’t want people looking at me like that. I don’t want-”
Your voice breaks. “I don’t want to think about it.”
You wrap your arms around yourself, holding tight like you might fall apart otherwise.
“I appreciate you listening,” you say, already retreating. “But I’m done. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
You turn to leave.
“Hey.”
You don’t turn around.
“I’m not going to force you to report,” Natasha says quietly. “And I’m not going to tell anyone.”
Your shoulders drop:just a little.
“But I’m not going to pretend this didn’t happen either.”
That hits harder.
“You don’t get to go through this alone.”
You swallow. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“I don’t,” she says, calm and steady. “But I do get to stay.”
Silence settles around you, thick and heavy. Your hands are still shaking, your heart still racing, the room still too small, but she doesn’t move closer. She doesn’t touch you. She doesn’t corner you.
She just stays. Right where she is. Steady. Present. Safe.And for the first time since it happened: you don’t feel completely alone.
Summary: Winning a night with the Black Widow—to Natasha, charity auction be damned—turns out to be, despite her initial disgruntlement, the start of something neither of you could have predicted.
Author’s note: Reader’s parents are briefly spoken about as having passed away, so please don’t read if that’s triggering for you
It’s a terrible idea to Natasha. Absolutely terrible.
There’s nothing she wants less than hanging out with some rich probable asshole who has a stupidly large amount of money, wealthy enough to spend it without a second thought, frivolous and shallow.
But Tony is adamant, and the press have been hounding the Avengers for some public engagement, and—Natasha sighs—it is for charity. So, she guesses she’s capable of shelving her feelings of disdain and performing for one singular evening.
“Next up is Natasha Romanoff! Saved the best for last, everybody!” Tony declares, voice loud and almost suggestive as Natasha makes her way up to the front of the room. The lights are bright, Tony with the microphone is loud, and the crowd’s eyes on her are annoying.
She’s the last to be auctioned off tonight, and Tony is overly excited. You can see the gleam in his eye, the way he’s visibly vibrating at the thought of the imminent bidding war, and Natasha resents that, even after everything she’s accomplished, she’s still being reduced to a pretty face, a seductive symbol with a body to flaunt and ogle.
“Let’s start the bidding at $2,000.”
It’s pricey—more than Steve’s opening bid, more than Wanda’s, certainly more than Bruce’s—yet no one in the audience bats an eye. There’s no hesitation. Multiple paddles get raised. They all want a moment with the illustrious Black Widow.
It doesn’t take long for the number to quickly rise. $3,000, $4,000, $5,000, $7,000. There’s seemingly no end to people’s desire for her, many all but tripping over themselves in an attempt to win Natasha’s attention for the night.
She wants to scoff at the looks she’s receiving, at the eager way men and woman are bidding for her time, but she forces herself to keep a pleasant smile on her face that hides her want to tear her hair out each time the price goes up. She lets out a calming exhale. Charity, charity, charity.
“$15,000,” you speak up from the very back of the room, voice small and nervous as you jump ahead multiple thousands. Heads snap to you, people straining to get a glimpse of who just outbid the majority.
You’re sitting at a table alone, biting your lip, looking almost guilty, almost ashamed, at placing a bid.
“Wow!” Tony claps, thrilled at the turn of events, taking way too much enjoyment out of the bidding war that is currently fueling Natasha’s misery. “$15,000! Going once. Going twice-”
“$16,000,” a man in the front challenges you. He looks back your way, his eyes narrowed into a glare. It’s a challenge, his gaze condescending and daring you push him. His suit, his demeanor, his entire presence, it all screams entitlement, screams that the Black Widow is going to be his tonight.
“$17,000,” you try again.
“$18,000,” he counters quickly, flippantly, as though the continued increase in money is of no consequence to him.
Natasha’s head tilts with interest, observing you. You seem blatantly out of place. You’re younger than the others attending the charity gala. You don’t appear to be upscale, not dressed to the nines. Your outfit, although nice, is clearly not up to this event’s standards. You don’t look to have money like they do.
And you’re meek, apprehensive—everyone can see it—but you’re not giving up. She wonders if you will.
“$19,000.” Your voice turns weaker.
“$20,000.” He doesn’t stop; he doesn’t even flinch.
You feel your anxiety growing. The whole room has fallen silent, staring, wondering how far you’re willing to go, wondering when—not if—you’ll back down.
This time, you remain quiet, and the man shoots you a triumphant and arrogant smile.
“Going once…” Tony begins again, eyes flickering between you and the man. He’s talking marginally slower this time, as if wanting to give you a better chance to counterbid.
Natasha lips purse, and she’s surprised that she feels a small amount of disappointment curling in her chest. You intrigued her, and she thinks that she’d probably much prefer your company to that of the man who is still gazing at her as though he owns her.
“Going twice…” Tony continues, “Sol-”
When you interrupt Tony, it’s so quiet that he wouldn’t have believed he heard right if not for the surprised gasps that came from those around you.
“25,000?” you say, tone curling up toward the end.
People are stunned, astounded, dumbstruck. Natasha’s own eyebrows raise.
“That sounded like a question,” Tony remarks, still playing the part of an entertainer, “You sure about that?”
You take a breath, trying to strengthen your resolve, and nod, the movement jerky and awkward. “$25,000,” you repeat, slightly firmer this time.
The man in the front row huffs out an angry breath, and he roughly sits back in his seat, the force of it shaking his chair, his frustration evident. His jaw is clenched to the point that you think his teeth are cracking under the pressure as he silently admits defeat. He’s acting as though it physically pains him to do so.
“Going once. Going twice. Sold!” Tony announces, gleeful grin on his face. “Sold to the kid in the back.”
You wince at the nickname; you wince at all the attention you’ve drawn.
Despite the auction having concluded more than a few moments ago, Natasha’s feet refuse to leave their spots planted next to Tony.
“Go on,” he ushers.
It takes him urging her to “Natasha, move” two more times before she sighs and acquiesces, turning in your direction.
When you make eye contact with her from across the room, you give her a nervous smile, and she begins walking your way. Your smile quickly falters when she arrives, though. Her mouth is pulled into a thin line, she’s obviously tense and unhappy, and she doesn’t greet you politely.
“Let’s get this night over with,” she mutters, loud enough for you to hear. Her volume is purposeful.
You glance around the room, regarding the other Avengers: Steve and Sam, Wanda and Bruce, even Tony. They are all good-natured, polite and friendly, unbothered by the situation unlike the redhead in front of you. You didn’t realize she was so adamantly against the auction. You wouldn’t have participated if you knew it would insult her like it seems to have.
You try your best to build a conversation, but you don’t know where to begin.
“So, do you, um, want to get a drink?” you offer, wanting to alleviate the smothering tension that Natasha has placed over the two of you with her initial comment and unwillingness to talk.
She gives you a pointed look and swirls the liquid in her half full glass around as an answer, as a ‘no’.
“Oh- okay-” you stutter, “I’m just- I’m just going to grab one real quick.” You need an excuse to get away for a moment, to collect yourself. This is not going as planned. You weren’t sure what you expected from this night, but Natasha’s lack of amiability surely wasn’t it.
When you get no real response from the redhead, you deflate further. You practically run to the bar to order yourself a drink, hoping that the alcohol will soothe the nerves that are presently overwhelming you.
The Black Widow doesn’t like you. You aren’t sure why, but she doesn’t like you. You don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, but with the way Natasha is acting, you must have already offended the woman.
Natasha watches you go, lips pulling up unconsciously at your noticeable unease. You’re cute… in an awkward way. But it’s not enough to make up for the night she’s sure she’s going to suffer through.
“The least you could do is be nice to the poor girl,” Tony’s voice comes from Natasha’s right.
Natasha’s smirk transitions into a less than pleased expression. “She’s young. How did she even get an invite? How does she have the money for this?”
“Inheritance or something,” Tony waves off her question as if the answer isn’t significant. “Her parents ran some fancy tech company. They passed in a car crash sometime last year.”
That gets Natasha’s attention. Her gaze drifts back toward you where you’re waiting for the bartender’s acknowledgement, his attention being focused on everyone but you.
She sighs for what feels like the umpteenth time tonight. Maybe Tony is right; maybe she could be the slightest bit more agreeable.
With renewed purposeful steps, she makes her way over to the bar, coming up behind you, her front just lightly brushing against your back in the crowd.
You jolt at her touch, eyes wide and surprised as you look back at her.
Natasha doesn’t meet your gaze, instead concentrated on the bartender, her hand raising to grab his attention. Unlike with you, it doesn’t take long.
“Ms. Romanoff,” the bartender greets, “Your usual?”
She shakes her head. “Just one…” she pauses and finally glances your way, waiting for you to tell him your drink order.
You rattle it off and the bartender swiftly begins mixing your drink.
“Thanks,” you mumble to Natasha quietly, and the redhead just gives you one nod in return.
Natasha’s thoughtful gesture at the bar doesn’t cause your conversation to stop being stilted, with her hardly giving you anything to work with, offering you clipped responses or, even more preferable to her, one-worded answers.
“You don’t have to do this, you know, if you don’t want to,” you finally say, shoulders slumped. Your mouth has been twitching down further and further in disappointment as the night progresses.
“What?”
“Look, I know I won or whatever, but if you hate this so much, you don’t have to stay and talk to me.”
Natasha immediately dismisses your offer. “No, you paid for this. You won. Why would I-”
“I won a night with the Black Widow, not a night of holding the Black Widow hostage.”
She lets out yet another weary exhale. You really haven’t done anything to deserve her unpleasant behavior. “I’m… sorry. I just don’t believe in this bullshit, in bidding on someone.”
“I didn’t bid on you to force you to hang out with me.”
“Then why did you?”
You chuckle anxiously, not exactly feeling comfortable admitting what you’re about to. “Honestly? I’m a huge fan.”
Natasha raises a curious eyebrow, indicating you should continue.
“You’ve been my favorite Avenger since, like, I was young, and…” you trail off, “And you saved my life once. Back in the Battle of New York.”
“Really?”
“I was trapped under a car, and those alien things were coming. You appeared out of nowhere, took them down, and managed to pull me out. You led me to some nearby building. I just wanted to thank you, I guess.”
“By partaking in a stupid charity auction?”
“It was that or fan mail,” you throw back, trying to tease.
Natasha actually huffs out a laugh.
There’s silence for a few more moments before she speaks up.
“Tony told me,” Natasha starts, finally giving you a little more substance than before, “About what happened to your parents.”
You stiffen at her words before responding. “I’m not sure that was his information to share.”
“That’s fair,” she replies. She doesn’t say anything after that, and the quiet stretches on.
“We weren’t close,” you tell her, breaking the silence, “They left me with all this money, with all these responsibilities, with this public image I have to maintain, with so much that I’m not equipped to deal with.” Then you gesture at yourself. “I mean, I clearly don’t belong here.”
“Don’t say that.”
You give Natasha a look.
“Okay, fine. You stick out like a sore thumb… but that’s not a bad thing.”
“You say that as if you don’t frequent these sorts of parties,” you mutter.
“Doesn’t mean I like them.”
“You don’t?” you ask curiously.
“Not particularly, no. They’re mostly an excuse for people to show off. It’s a lot of empty words and insincere smiles.”
“Seems like you blend right in, though.”
“I can dance the socialite dance with the best with of them, but that means little if I don’t enjoy doing it.”
Her words reassure you. You change the subject.
“I still can’t believe that I’m standing next to the Black Widow, that I’m at some fancy shindig with the Avengers.”
“You know I’m just a person, right?” Natasha teases, rolling her eyes at your admiration.
“You’re definitely not ‘just a person’.”
“What am I then?”
“Hot,” you answer quickly, honestly, without pause, and then your eyes widen as your brain catches up to your mouth.
Natasha just quirks her lips in a smile at your slip up.
The rest of the night is spent talking, bantering, as Natasha opens up, and she finds herself genuinely relishing in your presence. She’s reluctant to acknowledge it, still wanting to refuse to admit that the auction may have brought her something good, but she’s finding it harder and harder to convince herself that she doesn’t like you.
At a certain point—it’s abrupt, there’s no lead up—Natasha suddenly apologizes. “I’m sorry,” she says softly, “For how I behaved earlier. I shouldn’t have assumed that you are like them.”
“It’s okay,” you disregard her apology, “I don’t blame you for thinking that.”
Her eyes drift to your lips briefly as you talk, so briefly that you don’t even notice, and before she can talk herself out of it, her lips are on yours.
A startled noise leaves you, and you immediately heat up in embarrassment at how loud it was. You’re thankful that it’s a crowded event, chatter and gentle music playing in the background. Unfortunately, it isn’t missed by Natasha, and she smiles against your lips at her effect on you.
You’re so taken aback by the kiss that you’re frozen in place, not able to reciprocate.
The redhead pulls away—just barely—her breath still warm against your lips. “Are you going to kiss me back?” she asks, her voice a whisper, “Or did I read this wrong?” She’s teasing.
Your mouth is parted with little shallow exhales. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest. You’re staring at her with a mix of awe and surprise. Natasha Romanoff just kissed you.
“So?” she prompts. She doesn’t rush, just waits, a small smile on her face as she takes in your expression. Once again, she’s struck by how cute you are.
That one word is all it takes. You decrease the distance slowly as you move to connect your lips with hers again, giving her a very uncertain kiss. It’s short, just a light brush. You’re too shy, too timid, and so it doesn’t linger, your nerves preventing you from fully falling into it.
But despite your hesitation, Natasha can still taste your desperation to kiss her more.
When she pulls back again, there’s a smirk on her face, playful but affectionate. “Was that worth the $25,000?” Natasha jokes.
“Worth every penny,” you breathe out, voice shaky, lips tingling from where they touched hers.
You decide to test your luck. “Can I have another?”
“Well… it is for charity, right?” Natasha murmurs before pressing her lips to yours once more.
G!P Natasha Romanoff, unprotected sex, p in v, subtle fingering, dirty talking, spitting. Tension, kind of angst, pining. Age gap (N is 37, r is 20)
Word count: 9K words
Being the presidents daughter isn't as glamorous and fantastic as people make it to be. In fact, it was beyond horrible. You were expected to be a lady who was poised, perfect, untouchable and well, the president's daughter. You have to hold the reputation that your mother unfortunately placed onto you. And let me tell you, it was more than exhausting.
For years it's been like this. You don't even remember having a childhood at all. No friends, no sleepovers, no parties, no drunken mistakes, no kisses and all of that. Well, maybe all of that was a stretch. You'd done all of that in secret without your mother knowing. Which is probably the reason why you have Romanoff following you around now and watching you like a hawk.
In retrospect, you were still young and naive. You were seventeen at the time so it was pretty much inevitable for something like that to happen. For you to get into trouble. You didn't think you kissing some pastors daughter would land up all over newspapers, gossip columns, magazines and pretty much all of social media. And you sure as hell didn't think a picture of you dancing on a table with a dress that was short and quite revealing would land up on the media too.
Okay, maybe you did expect it and maybe you did it because you wanted to rebel against this unwanted persona you were given. But clearly that didn't work well because two weeks after the unforgettable incident, you had some weird emails and letters from potential stalkers coming in. You thought it was funny but your mother didn't think that, in fact she was far from amused. And at that time she was still running for president, so pretty much everything and anything could have jeopardize her career, which unsurprisingly didn't happen.
But the letters, the emails and the stalker behavior became consistent and disgusting, graphic even and your mother worried about your safety. She worried that one day, you'd end up in some trouble and she wouldn't be able to get you back. So one evening, she spent all night trying to find the best bodyguard for you. Someone firm, strict and who stuck to protocol. Someone who could relate to you and would protect you. Someone trustworthy and someone who would manage to put you in place when you stepped out of line. Someone who wasn't a potential danger to you but would literally kill to keep you safe.
And in comes Natasha Romanoff. Or Agent killjoy as you called her. You remember the first day you met her. Black suit, Valentino sunglasses, red hair tied up in a bun and the straightest posture you'd ever seen in your life. She stood next to your mother, conversating about something important until her head turned upwards to look at you. Your mother's attention followed suite.
"Oh, perfect. Y/n, I want you to meet your new bodyguard. Natasha Romanoff."
"Bodyguard?" It came out harsher than you'd intended but honest to god, what was your mother thinking.
"Yes. She will be with you all day, every day."
"I don't think that's necessary, really I-"
"If you want to speak to me, you'll come closer to me." She commands leaving no room for disagreements and you mumble something incoherent while walking down the rest of the stairs.
"Now, what were you saying?"
"I was trying to tell you that I don't need a babysitter mother."
"I'm not a babysitter y/n. I've been hired for your safety." Natasha explains, and her voice is so enticing. You want to hear it again.
"Same thing." You cut her off and the woman simply arches a brow before taking her sunglasses off.
Your stomach does a summersalt when you get a proper look at her. She was beyond good looking.
"Y/n, there are people out there who see you as bait, stalkers who want to harm you. In fact, they see you as something that not even I want to address."
"A whore?" You tilt your head and you see the corner of Natasha’s lips twitch.
"Please, excuse my daughter's language. She gets very vulgar sometimes, but we're still working on it." The glare you get afterwards has you rolling your eyes.
"No need for apologies ma'am." Natasha explains with a simple hand gesture.
"So what I'm gathering from this is, I now have a new bodyguard who will follow me around and basically my entire social life is over? Great. Thanks mom, you win the best mother of the year award once again." You turn on your heels before walking up the stairs of this ridiculously large house.
Downstairs, Natasha’s eyebrows are still arched. She found you to be quite amusing actually, almost like a feisty kitten.
"Well, that was an introduction." Your mother huffs out before stepping into the house.
"Do follow me so I can give you a tour." That's the last thing Natasha hears before following your mother.
___
Now you wouldn't say you hated Natasha or anything like that. In fact, you liked her. A bit too much. Sure, she was annoying as hell in the beginning. Like whenever she was everywhere you went, or when she would meddle in your business or when she pulled you away from people who so happened to bat an eye at you because she was worried about your safety. Her presence made you feel caged, watched even. So you basically hated her for doing her job.
But then you grew up. Two and a half years later and you finally got over your supposed hatred for the woman. Instead, that hatred boiled over into a crush. Yes, you harbored feelings for the woman who was your so called "protector". But really it was inevitable. Having Natasha around you at all times was like leaving food around a hungry kitten. You're gonna want to eat it at some point.
Maybe that analogy was a bad one but god the woman was so good looking. Everything about her drew you in. Her attitude, that stoic yet dominant attitude of hers that always managed to put you in your place. How she would whisper "behave" in public whenever you were about to act out, her voice coaxing you into something you didn't want to name at that time.
Her appearance. Well, there was no need to even say anything about that because her appearance spoke for itself. You were certain the woman was sculpted by Greek gods themselves. And you, nineteen, and still very much rebellious just so happened to be crushing on the redhead.
___
The ballroom glittered the way it always did on nights your mother wanted the country to believe everything was perfect. Crystal chandeliers bled gold over polished floors, senators laughed way too loudly, and the string quartet in the corner never missed a beat. You had spent the last hour practicing your best presidential-daughter smile which was polite, warm, and exactly the right amount of approachable.
Somewhere on the edge of the crowd stood Natasha. You could feel her before you saw her, a steady orbit just outside your own. She never wore the same dress uniform twice, never drank the champagne waiters kept offering, never let her hand stray far from the comm in her ear. You used to hate that constant shadow. But now, at nineteen, you told yourself you’d gotten used to it.
But the truth was you noticed everything about her. Everything.
How she scanned the room in slow, economical sweeps. How the light caught the faint red in her hair. How she never seemed to breathe wrong, even in heels and a tailored suit.
And when her gaze swept across you from the other side of the ballroom, you looked away quickly, pretending to admire the floral arrangements on the table. Even though the thump of your heart was louder than the awful classical music playing in the background. You continued to play the role of the dutiful presidents daughter, nodding politely at people you didn't care about, until one sharp sound rang across the ballroom, a metallic pop, sharp and wrong. Your ears caught it just as the second sound cracked, louder and closer. Gasps swept through the room. Before you could react, a hand pressed firmly against your back, guiding you off the floor.
"Move." Natasha ordered, her voice low and commanding. Your stomach dropped as you realized that she wasn’t joking at all. You stumbled forward, heels clacking against the polished marble, one hand trying to lift your dress higher so you could walk faster while her body just ahead, angled to shield you from view. The hall erupted into chaos behind you. Shouts, alarms, screams. Cameras flashed, and waiters scattered like frightened birds.
Her pace was clipped and controlled. You had to jog to keep up, every step you took sending adrenaline through your veins. She didn’t look back, didn't even need to slow down, her presence was a shield, her movement a promise that she would get you out of here alive.
The main exit was blocked. Natasha’s eyes scanned the room, taking in every pillar, every table, every cluster of frightened guests. She yanked you toward a narrow service corridor that you hadn’t noticed before.
"This way!" she snapped, and you almost tripped over your own feet as she propelled you through the door.
Inside, the corridor was dimly lit and narrow. Shadows stretched along the walls, distorted and menacing. Natasha’s hand stayed on your back, firm but not harsh, guiding you past janitorial carts and maintenance doors. The alarm’s blaring was muffled here, but every footstep and every muffled shout from the ballroom, kept your senses taut. Your ragged breaths didn't seem to make the situation any better. Fuck, you really needed to work out more.
"What, what’s happening?" you asked breathlessly.
"Unknown threat." she replied, voice rid of any emotion.
"Unbeknownst threat? What the hell is an unbeknownst threat, I deserve to know what's happening if it involves me dying and-" Natasha covered your mouth with her palm.
"I said, unbeknownst threat. That means I don't know but you'll listen to me and do as I say. Stay close." Furiously and a little (really) turned on, you bit her palm with your teeth and she retracted it with a glare.
"Did you just bite me?"
"Where's my mother?! She could still be in the ballroom and-"
"Listen y/n, your mother is safe wherever she is. But my job is you. I am here for you. Not her but you. And the last thing I'll let happen is for you to be carried out of here, in a body bag. So I'll say this one last time, you do what I say, when I say it if you want to make it out alive. Now stay close. "
Natasha’s tone left no room for any argument. You kept your shoulder pressed against hers, feeling her body move in precise and controlled steps. Your pulse thundered in your chest. The air smelled faintly of polished floors and something metallic, fear or maybe even adrenaline.
A sudden shout echoed down the hall. Natasha pivoted, pressing you against the wall in one fluid motion, gun raised. You pressed your back to the cool plaster, heart hammering. Her hand lingered near your shoulder, steadying you, and you realized how close you were, her body almost brushing yours, the warmth of her side grounding you against your fear.
Seconds stretched like hours. Every shadow seemed to come alive. You could hear her breathing now, slow, controlled, and practiced, yet kind of steady. It was almost comforting you in this moment of panic. But the faint tremor in your own hands reminded you that you were far less composed.
The footsteps passed. Natasha didn’t move until she was sure the threat had moved on. Then she exhaled softly, lowering the weapon, though her gaze never wavered from the hallway.
"Stay here for a moment. "she said, voice low, almost gentle.
"Y-you can't be serious. You can't leave me here." Natasha gave you a pointed look that shut you up. She left you alone but came back minutes later. You could barely think, your chest still racing.
"Why do you always look so calm?" you asked, voice trembling.
She glanced at you, her eyes briefly softened in the dim light.
"Experience." she said.
"And focus. Very vital in this line of work." The silence after that was heavy, thick with unspoken words. You realized, with a shock, how much you were beginning to notice her. The tension in her shoulders, the glint of her eyes in the shadows, the way her breath barely shifted as she moved. You had never seen her like this, in danger, and the thought made something coil tight in your chest.
"Ready?" she asked finally, taking a careful step back. You nodded although the hesitation could be seen on your face.
"Yeah, ready." She led the way back to another service exit, moving with the same lethal precision. The closer you got to the safe zone, the more chaos bled through the suffocating walls. Alarms, shouts, the sharp edge of panic in everyone’s voice. Yet with Natasha, you felt… something like calm. Controlled calm. Like she would never let anything happen to you. And indeed, she wouldn't.
When you finally stepped into the stairwell leading outside, her hand dropped from your back, but the electricity of proximity lingered. Your chest still raced, but your thoughts weren’t just about fear anymore. They were about her. How easily she had moved, how certain she was, how impossible it was to stop noticing her. Her eyes, her hand on your back, her voice.
By the time you were ushered into the armored vehicle waiting in the rain-slick driveway, you couldn’t deny it. You had felt it in the press of her hand, the closeness, the calm in the storm. Something inside you had shifted. The walls you’d built against her had crumbled, almost imperceptibly, leaving behind… curiosity. Infatuation. Something that scared you as much as the gala had.
She took her seat next to the driver, eyes forward, expression unreadable. But you caught the way she glanced at you once, sharp, assessing, like she knew you’d felt it too. And for the first time, you weren’t sure whether that was comforting or borderline dangerous.
___
That same night you didn’t sleep. In fact, you couldn't really sleep. You lay there for an hour, replaying the nights events in your head. The alarm, the sound of her voice cutting through the chaos, the solid weight of her hand between your shoulder blades when the world spun sideways. The AC in your room hummed softly, and beyond the balcony doors, Washington dripped furiously with midnight rain. You turned on your side, buried your face in the pillow, and told yourself you were imagining the way her voice still echoed under your skin. That maybe you were being delusional.
Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock. It was quiet, polite, but a firm three taps, the way only Natasha would knock on your door. You sat up fast, your heartbeat already kicking.
"Yeah?"
"I'm just checking in." she said through the door.
"Protocol after a breach." You hesitated but grabbed to put your silk robe back on, then crossed the room to open it.
Natasha stood there, still in her black tactical suit, rain-damp at the shoulders with hair pulled back in a rough twist like she'd done in just to keep her hair out of her face. She looked like she hadn’t left the perimeter once. Her eyes swept over you automatically, not in the way older men at the galas did, not appraising, just scanning. Making sure you were real. Safe. And still breathing.
"You okay?" She asked and you nodded.
"I’m fine." It wasn't a lie but neither was it the exact truth.
"You sure? Your hands are still shaking." You looked down and she was right. Your fingers trembled slightly, the adrenaline refusing to fade.
"Guess I’m not used to all the excitement." you said, trying to joke although the chuckle you let out was dry. For a second she almost smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
"It wasn’t supposed to get that close." There was something in her tone, frustration, maybe even guilt and that tugged at you. You leaned against the doorframe before crossing your arms.
"You can’t control everything, Romanoff."
"Doesn’t mean I don’t try." You didn’t know what made you say it. Could've been the exhaustion, the leftover fear, the way her voice dropped when she was serious, but the words slipped out before you could stop them.
You saved me tonight Nat." Her eyes flicked up to yours. The corridor lights behind her were dim, washing everything around you two in amber.
“That’s my job, to keep you safe.”
“I know. But still.” For the first time since you’d met her which was almost three years ago, she looked unsure what to do with that kind of gratitude. She shifted her weight, one hand flexing at her side like she didn’t trust herself to keep it still.
“Try to get some sleep,” she finally mumbled, but it was softer now. You could’ve ended it there, probably should have just thanked her, closed the door and taken your ass back to bed. But something about the way she lingered, the faint shadow under her eyes, made you stop.
“You haven’t slept either, have you?” She didn’t answer and quite frankly you didn't need one because it was already obvious. You stepped back, opening the door a little wider.
“Five minutes.” you said.
“You can at least sit down right?”
She looked like she wanted to refuse on instinct, but after a beat, she finally stepped inside. Her presence filled the space immediately which was quiet, composed, but comfortable. She didn’t remove the holster or the earpiece, just crossed the room to stand near the window.
“It's still raining,” she murmured, glancing outside.
“Yeah well, Washington’s dramatic like that.” You murmured while shrugging and it earned a small chuckle, low and genuine, the kind you’d never heard from her before. It caught you off guard, and you smiled before you could hide it.
For a moment, everything stilled. The hum of the city below, the faint rumble of thunder far off, the muted light against her silhouette, it all folded into the kind of silence that feels alive. And it made you feel alive too.
She turned back toward you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.
“You handled yourself well tonight."Natasha murmured. She turned back toward you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them before.
“I handled myself because you told me what to do.”
“That’s still handling yourself.”
"Yeah well I guess I work better when I'm told what to do." The words tumble out of your mouth before you could think about them. Your mouth parts in attempt to take your words back but what would you even say. Why the fuck did I even say that?
"Sorry, that came out wrong." Natasha hums but her expression is unreadable. You held her gaze. It should’ve been easy to look away, but you didn’t. The air between you felt different now, less like command and obedience, instead more like recognition.
“Thank you though.” you said quietly. She gave a small nod, but something flickered behind her calm expression, something like hesitation, or maybe the same awareness that you felt. The comm in her ear buzzed, a faint reminder of duty. She reached up, turned the volume down.
“I should-”
“Go?”
“Yeah.” But she didn’t move. Not right away. Instead, she looked at you, really looked, and for one dizzy second you thought she might say something more. Instead, she sucked in a slow breath, steadied herself, and stood up.
“Goodnight, kid.”
That word, kid, hit differently now. You smiled faintly.
“I told you not to call me that Nat.”
“I remember.”
“Then why do you keep doing it?” She met your eyes again, her expression still unreadable.
“Maybe it reminds me that I’m supposed to keep my distance.”
The honesty in it made your chest ache. You wanted to say something, anything, to keep her there a little longer. But she turned before you could even build up the courage to respond. She walked back to the door, pausing just long enough to glance over her shoulder.
“You need to get some sleep. Rest your body. ” she said again, softer this time and then she was gone. Out of your sight but still in your mind.
The room felt heavier without her.
You stood by the window, watching the faint reflection of the city lights shimmer through the rain, and realized there was no use pretending anymore. Whatever you’d thought was resentment, irritation, rebellion, it had all shifted into something else entirely.
Something that made your pulse quicken every time she looked at you.
Something that felt dangerous in all the right and wrong ways. You pressed your palm to the cool glass and whispered, more to yourself than anyone else.
“Yeah… this is going to be a fucking problem.”
__
A knock came just as the sky outside your window slipped from orange hues to a pitch black sky. You almost didn’t hear it at first, too lost in the quiet of your room. The world had calmed after the chaos of the gala, but your mind hadn’t. You still saw flashes of light, heard the echo of the alarm, felt the steady pressure of Natasha’s hand guiding you through it all. And her words... Maybe it reminds me that I need to keep my distance.
“Come in.” you called, pretending as if you weren’t just a little bit startled. The door opened, and there stood Natasha. Her hair was tied back tonight, a loose braid that brushed against her shoulder. The fitted black shirt she wore rolled neatly to her elbows, revealing the strong line of her forearms, and you were able to catch a glimpse of her tattoo that you only got to see once in a blue moon. Her movements were effortless, quiet, controlled, like someone who never needed to announce her presence to be noticed.
She didn’t speak right away. Just stepped inside and closed the door softly behind her.
“You busy?” she asked.
“No, not really. ” you said, sitting up a little straighter.
“What’s up?” Her gaze flicked over the room once before landing on you. Then she reached into her jacket and pulled something small and rectangular from an inside pocket. A dark case, smooth and compact, with no label. She set it on your desk with a soft click.
“I wanted to give you something.” she said and you blinked.
“You… got me a gift?” Her lips curved just slightly, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Something like that.” You crossed the room, curiosity tugging at you, and opened the case. Nestled inside the foam was a folding knife, black and sleek, simple but precise. It was the kind of object that demanded respect. You finally looked up at her.
“You’re giving me a weapon?”
“It’s not a weapon if you use it right.” she replied.
“It’s protection.” You laughed under your breath, unsure what else to do. “You really think I’m the kind of girl who needs to carry a knife around?” Her gaze held yours, unflinching.
“I need to know that you'll have something to protect yourself with whenever I'm not near."
"But you're always there."
"Yes, but not always near. So I need to know that you'll be able to defend yourself."
Something in her tone made your chest tighten. There was no trace of mockery there, no patronizing calm. Just quiet sincerity. You turned the knife over in your hand, studying the weight of it.
“It’s heavier than I thought.”
“Good.” she said.
“It should feel like something that matters.” You watched her as she spoke, the faint scar near her temple catching the lamplight, the sharpness of her expression softened only by the way she seemed to hold herself back. Always composed. Always in control.
“Show me?” you asked after a moment. Her brow lifted.
“Show you what?”
“How to use it.” Natasha hesitated, and for a second, you could see the debate flicker across her face. Then she nodded and stepped closer.
“All right. Give me your hand.” So you did. Her palm brushed yours as she adjusted your grip around the handle.
Her skin was warm, her touch firm but careful, like she was always aware of exactly how much pressure to use.
“Keep your thumb here.” she murmured, sliding her hand over yours to guide your movements.
“You want control, not power. Because the goal is to get away, not to fight.” Your breath hitched slightly as she continued to guide you. You swallowed hard, trying to focus on her words, but the closeness made it impossible to think. Her breath touched your shoulder as she leaned in, her voice low and even which made you shiver.
“Don’t let anyone take it from you. Always keep your center steady.”
She reached around you to correct your stance, her hand resting lightly against your side. The warmth of it bled through your shirt. For a second, your breath caught.
“Like this?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. She nodded slowly. “Better. Now, if you have to strike-”
Her words faltered, just barely. You both noticed it. The air between you changed, heavier now, charged with something that didn’t belong to lessons about safety. You turned your head slightly, enough to meet her eyes. Her expression didn’t shift, but her voice softened.
“You’re trembling.” You laughed weakly.
“Maybe because you’re standing right behind me like you’re about to teach me how to kill someone.” That earned a small smile.
“That’s not what I’m teaching you.”
“Then what are you teaching me?” Her silence said everything that she couldn’t.
When she finally stepped back, the loss of her warmth felt too sharp, too sudden. She folded the knife closed and placed it gently in your hand. “Keep it close.” she said. You looked down at the small object resting in your palm, the metal cool against your skin.
“You didn’t have to do this.” You whispered softly.
“I know.” You lifted your eyes to her.
“So why did you?” Her gaze flicked away, just for a moment.
“Because I don’t like the idea of anyone getting close enough to hurt you.”
The words hit deeper than they should have. You didn’t know how to respond, so you didn’t. You just stood there, heart in your throat, while she adjusted her jacket and turned toward the door.
“Try not to lose it.” she said quietly. You smiled faintly.
“You’re really giving me a knife and expecting me not to.” For the first time all night, her composure cracked into something almost human.
“Then I’ll have to come find you.” she said. And with that, she left, leaving only silence and the faint scent of her cologne lingering in the air accompanied with the sound of your heart beating rapidly.
You stared down at the knife again, your reflection rippling across the dark surface. It was supposed to be a tool. A precaution. But all you could think about was the way her hand had guided yours, the way her voice had sounded when she said she didn’t like the thought of someone hurting you. Maybe it wasn’t just protection anymore. Maybe it was infatuation.
___
"It's just some party dude. You can't let that nanny of yours stop you from having fun." Your friend, Layla, had spent almost ten minutes on the phone with you trying to convince you to come to her college party.
"I can't Lay."
"For fucks sake, you're nineteen and you're taking online classes for college, the least you can do is have some fun by sneaking out." You huffed and your friend only wiggled her brow.
"I know that look, you're considering it. And it's gonna be great." You're still uncertain about going but she gives you a pleading look.
"Okay okay okay fine. I'll see what I can do."
"Yay! Okay, wear something hot. And I'll handle the rest."
"The rest?"
"Booze, weed, duh."
"Right." You continue to talk with her for a while until she eventually has to end the call. Then you're left to cultivate a good plan.
It's not like sneaking out was difficult. Your mother barely batted an eyelash at your whereabouts especially after Natasha came into your life because at the end of the day, wherever you went, Natasha was there. That's the problem though, Natasha was everywhere. Hell she may have even been listening to your conversation and you wouldn't even know. But that was a risk you'd just have to take. Because for once in your life, you just wanted to have fun. Especially before your mother's rallies began. Then you'd be touring almost the entire country with her, just to hear her talk and talk and talk. Going out just once with drunk kids who weren't aware of their surroundings wouldn't hurt anyone.
So that's how you found yourself late at night at some frat house dressed in a white corset accompanied with a white miniskirt, thigh high socks, heels and of course the angel wings. Your collarbone practically sparkled from glitter, your makeup was left minimal and you topped the look off with your favorite scent. As per usual, you looked good.
Getting out was relatively easy. Especially when Natasha had taught you how to decode and hack systems at seventeen so that was pretty much child's play. The only problem was when she'd catch on to it because the woman was smart and alert. You figured you'd at least have two hours of unsupervised fun before she dragged you back home.
Your friend tugged onto your wrists, pulling you further in the house before you reached the makeshift bar area.
"Okay, what are we drinking?"
"I don't wanna drink." She scoffed and poured you whatever concoction was made in the bowl.
"Drink. Now." You took a slow sip then another before putting g the cup down.
"I'd rather we do something else." She gave you a look of excitement before pulling you outside, where you spotted a crowd gathered on couches. There were different things laying in front of them on the table, some which you didn't even want to name but what caught your attention was the already rolled up joints.
"Here." Layla hands you one before pulling out her pink lighter. And let's just say after a few drags, everything becomes so much better.
On the other side, Natasha knew within ten minutes that you were gone. She’d been at the residence, reading a report, when one of the other agents mentioned casually that you hadn’t checked in since dinner. That you weren’t in your room.
Her pen stilled.The moment she finally realized that the house had been oddly quiet, her jaw tightens. A quick glance at the monitors confirms it, your room was in fact empty. Your phone hasn’t pinged in a while and you had obviously managed to hack into the tracking system to not be traced.
"Chertov ad." She mumbles, already pulling out her device to find you.
"Run the trackers." She barks almost immediately. Agents follow her command without another word.
And although Natasha is livid that you snuck out, she is kind of impressed that you mastered it. But as they say, you can never outdo the master. It takes her ten minutes tops to track you. And the moment she does find your location she grabs her jacket and keys before leaving the house.
She doesn't say anything on the drive to the frat house. Instead her knuckles turn white from how hard she's gripping the steering wheel while her mind runs wild with many curse words she'd rather keep in. When she arrives, sits in the car for a few minutes to calm herself down, then she grabs her shades, slips them on and walks into the packed house.
By now the party is in full blast. Bodies swing and grind into one another and it's quite a hassle to get through but Natasha manages to push a few people aside. She scoffs as a few girls willingly throw themselves at her. One even tries to grab her arm, ready to throw some flirtatious comment her way but she pulls her hand away before walking. The smell of alcohol, sweat and cheap perfume invades her nostrils and it annoys her even further but her main focus is on finding you before you get killed, so that she can definitely kill you herself. Natasha finally spots you and though your back is turned she knows it's you.
You're dancing with a girl, one hand carrying a red cup while the other waves carelessly in the air. Natasha watches the scene, her insides boiling with anger and something she doesn't want to name just yet. She moves forward, ready to drag you out of this party.
You're still oblivious though. Your mind is quiet for once and for the first time in a while, you're relaxed. No pressure, no press, no pictures, just fun. So when you turn around after taking a drag from your friends vape, the last thing you expect to see is Natasha. You cough once, which sends the strawberry vapor her way. She doesn't do anything neither does she say anything and that's when you've registered the fact that you're fucked.
Finally she takes off her jacket and wraps it around you before pulling your arm.
"Outside. Now."
"But-" She gives you one of her looks and you drop your shoulders before walking out of the party. No one really cares about what's happening, instead they're focused on their own spontaneous activities. Assholes.
When you step outside, the cold hits you full force, and it's literally like taking a breath of fresh air. Nothing has been said yet, and you don't want to say anything because Natasha is still mumbling incoherent curse words in Russian. She opens the door for you, you get in and then she's on her side starting the ignition but she isn't driving yet. Five minutes go by until you finally talk.
"I didn't do anything wrong."
"Really?" She laughs.
"It was just a party Nat."
"One that you didn't tell me about."
"I don't have to tell you about my whereabouts all the time."
"I'm your bodyguard, that's exactly what you're supposed to do. Jesus y/n how could you be so stupid?!
"I'm not drunk."
"But you're high."
"Still not drunk." She shakes her head in frustration before grabbing the almost empty red cup in your hand and throwing it out the car window.
"Chertovski glupo."
The next ten minutes are spent in silence, her jaw is clenched and you could see the vein under her eye bulging. Yeah she was definitely keeping a lot of words in. When you finally get home, she switches off the ignition and then exhales. Neither of you speaks yet, it's just the sound of rain tapping against the car and your breathing.
"I'm sorry." You mumble softly, pulling the jacket, her jacket, around you. The scent wrapping around you like a warm blanket.
"I just wanted to have fun."
"Fun can get you killed y/n. Do you know how badly things could've went?"
"I know, and I'm sorry I almost cost you your job and-"
"My job!? This isn't about my job y/n it's about your safety. Do you understand what could have happened to you? Fuck y/n you could've gotten kidnapped, killed, drugged, assaulted?! Then what?" Her words finally sink in and the guilt gnaws at you.
"You tell me when you want to go somewhere. You tell me not for the sake of my job but because I care about you. You don't just disappear without telling me."
"I know." She let's out a sigh. You finally turn to look at her, chest still glistening, but heaving slightly, and Natasha looks away because she cannot trust herself to look where she shouldn't be looking in the first place.
"I just wanted space. Besides it's not like I was falling over."
"Yes but the president's daughter drinking underage is a good caption no?"
"Twenty, twenty-one, it's the same thing to me." She shakes her head but there's a small smile tugging her lips.
"I'm sorry though, and if it makes things better I did have my pocket knife." She sighs.
"I probably will sneak out again.
"I know." You smile before opening the car door.
"And y/n..." You turn around to look to her.
"Yeah?"
"Maybe leave the hacking to professionals." She teases and you flip her off before walking away with a subtle sway of your hips that she definitely does notice.
And that the moment where the redhead realizes that she was ready to risk it all.
___
Los Angeles had its own kind of heat, the kind that stuck to your skin no matter how high the AC hummed. Your mother was halfway across the city, shaking hands, giving speeches, being everything the cameras needed her to be. You were just the background, the president’s daughter tucked into a hotel suite with gold fixtures and no real privacy. The suite next door belonged to Natasha...
"For security reasons" your mother said, although you suspected it was more about control than safety.
"See to it that my daughter is dressed appropriately and shows up on time please. I'll be visiting a few other facilities today, so I'll just meet the both of you at the gala."
"No problem ma'am." Natasha gave a curt nod before your mother left her suite to attend some meeting.
A knock came just as you were scrolling through your phone, half-draped across the couch in your silk pajama set, pink, soft and expensive. You didn’t bother to fix the loose strap when you opened the door.
Natasha stood there, posture perfect, one hand holding a tablet while the other was tucked behind her, and as usual, she was dressed in all black. The hallway light caught the sharp line of her jaw and the faint glint in her green eyes. She didn’t say anything for a beat. Her gaze flickered once, down, then back up. Controlled. Professional. Barely. Because you could see the way her eyes shone with something else.
"Your mother asked me to remind you to dress appropriately for tonight’s gala." she said finally, voice even, clipped, a faint trace of her accent threading through.
“You’re expected downstairs at six. Don’t be late.” You leaned against the doorframe, studying her.
"That all?" Her eyes didn’t move.
"Yes, that’s all."
But she hesitated, just half a second too long. And in that silence, you felt something shift, subtle but real. The kind of tension that wasn’t supposed to exist between a bodyguard and the girl she was hired to protect. Natasha cleared her throat then left you alone. This game between the two of you was getting heated and it seemed like you weren't the only one enjoying it.
___
The gala was well a gala. Sleek, expensive, polished in gold and silver accents. Rich white men boasting about anything and everything while some even tried to get your attention by touching your shoulder. You played your role well though. You pose for the cameras, nod at small talk about universities and policies you don’t care about. Smile and laugh if need be.
Natasha is never far, she's like a shadow at the edge of the crowd, black suit, hair tied back, eyes scanning every single movement. You catch her gaze once, across the room, and for a heartbeat, it anchors you. But then someone laughs too loudly, another hand tugs you into another conversation, and she disappears behind a line of photographers.
You last thirty minutes before slipping outside to get some air. Your moment alone doesn't last long though because soon someone else walks out. You don't look at them but they move closer.
"Not your scene huh?" You finally look up to see a girl your age, maybe a little older than you.
"Nope."
"Me neither." She takes a sip from the flute before setting it aside.
"Never really liked feeling so caged." She murmurs softly.
"I feel that."
"It must be worse for you, being the president's daughter and all." You hum softly.
"It does. Especially when the whole world is watching you, waiting for you to make a mistake." She tilts her head, studying you further.
"I like you."
"Bold thing to say to someone you've just met." You mumble with a small grin and she chuckles before moving closer to you. You spend almost thirty minutes talking to her about anything. Music, movies, books even about university degrees. Somewhere along the line she gets even closer, so close you can see the freckles on her skin or feel the way her shoulder brushes along your own.
It sends a shiver down your spine. Not because you like her or anything but because you have a feeling that you were being watched. And you were. You turn your head to find Natasha standing not so far from the two of you. And when you look closely, you see the way her jaw clenches while her fingers twitch slightly. It makes you grin in triumph.
"Problem Nat?"
"No. I've been requested to come look for you. Take you back to the suite."
"There's no need to, I don't mind staying here with my new friend." The girl looks between the two of you before clearing her throat.
"Call me." She says before slipping away from the two of you. You're still leaning against the balcony, the straps of your dress falling from your shoulder. You don't rush to fix them.
Natasha’s face is void of any emotion. She cocks her head to the side and you laugh slightly before walking towards the door with a sway of your hips.
___
The water clings to your skin as you emerge from the shower. You wrap yourself in a towel while tending to your face. Natasha is still inside your suite. She could have retreated to her own but something tells you that she wasn't in the rush to.
You've now replaced the towel with a silk robe, and you glance at yourself in the mirror one last time. Good. Once you leave the room you find Natasha staring out at the window.
"You're still here." She doesn't say anything after that so you place yourself on the couch, just a few feet away from her.
"Tell me Nat, what game are we playing here?" You're direct and it takes her by surprise.
"What game?"
"You tell me."
"I don't know what you're talking about." She finally turns around.
"Really? But we've been at this for a while now. To me, it seems like you want me." Natasha scoffs but it's far from convincing.
"Stay in your lane y/n."
"Or what Natty? Tell me, does your job include watching me shower?" You push further. She clenches both of her fists.
"It's my job to protect you."
"Protect me from what exactly? The suds of soap dripping down my body? Or slipping in that big shower?" The smirk on your face is cruel and she wants nothing more than to wipe it off of you.
This cannot be happening. She tries to tell herself that. That she cannot be thinking about you the way she was. That she shouldn't be entertaining the idea of you. At all. Not only because she was your bodyguard and older than you but because your mother, the president, would kill her. Even though that was impossible given her status but that's a risk she didn't want to take.
"I'm warning you. Stay in your lane." You stand up before reaching for your robe. She watches you intently but her hands stop you from tugging it off, the warmth of her palm on your skin makes you dizzy.
"I don't feel that way about you." She retorts and you laugh.
"Oh? So if I called that girl from earlier on and told her to fuck me, you'd let me?" Her jaw clenches.
"I don't care what you do in your own time."
"Really? Huh." Deciding to push Natasha further, you grab your phone before punching in her number.
Natasha freezes, and for a moment, you see it. The green flash in her eyes, the flush that tugs at her neck, the rigid line of her shoulders. She grabs your phone before you can move, holding it tight in one hand.
"Ne smey." She says sharply, simple words that are clipped, dangerous. Don’t.
She steps closer, every movement taut with unspoken warning. Her body is tight, coiled, like she wants to say more but won’t.
"Don’t push me." she says, voice low, clipped, the edges of it shaking slightly. Not her usual calm. Not this time. The jealousy is there. Barely contained but it's there and you can feel it. You fucking love it.
"If you don't want me then why are you still holding my phone?"
The silence between the two of you is deafening. And just when you think she'll give up and hand you the phone, she takes another step closer. Her unoccupied hand moves to your chin.
"You don't know how much restraint is keeping me away from you. Holding me back." The phone is carelessly thrown onto the couch, your hand bringing her own back to your robe.
"Then stop fighting it." You can see the gears running in her head, like she's still contemplating whether she should bolt or stay. You want her to stay.
"Take me. I promise, I won't tell a soul Natty." You whisper, your hand still guiding hers to pull the robe off. You feel her lips brush against your own before she finally, finally kisses you. Your heart practically soars as her lips move with yours, her hands untying the robe. Natasha sucks in a breath once you guide her hand to place it on a soft mound.
The sigh that you let out afterwards makes her squeeze the mound, to feel it against her palm. You slip your robe off almost immediately and now you're bare in front of Natasha. She swallows, cock already hardening underneath her slacks. She wasn't expecting that at all.
"O bozhe." The uncertainty finally leaves her mind and Natasha has to restrain herself from pouncing on you.
Rough calloused hands pick you up, and you squeal in surprise. She guides you to the bed, just a few feet from where the couch was. She throws you onto the bed, a soft squeal escaping your lips. Her hands move down your calves to spread your legs apart. You're completely bare, at her mercy too, and it sends a thrill down her spine. You may have been her boss out there but now in here, she would be taking all the control.
Natasha’s hands move back up to your face, and thighs quiver from her absence.
"You want this?" She asks and you nod.
"Tell me."
"I want you." You confirm with another nod of your head. Natasha’s lips are on yours once again, her knee pressing against your core which makes you gasp.
"A-again, do that again." You plead and she smirks before pulling away.
Natasha throws her jacket onto the side table. Your gaze falls down, watching her fingers unbutton the white button up. Once it falls down, you're left to ogle at her covered chest. The tattoo you'd once seen in passing now on full display, toned abs that you can't help but touch and-
Natasha’s finger presses against your clit which makes you let out an unexpected moan.
"So distracted." Her thumb rolls around the sensitive nub, testing to see what you like. You drag her hand closer to your core, moaning when her finger slides around your slit.
"Jesus detka, so fucking wet." Her finger slips into your hole and you let out a choked gasp.
"Fuck, another."
"Another? Fucking greedy." But she adds another finger inside of you, your walls hugging both fingers.
Your lips part, a breathless wine escaping your lips while she fingers your pussy. Her thump swipes over your clit again and you moan even louder.
"Look at me." She commands and you're met with blown green eyes looking down at you. So fucking beautiful. Natasha thinks to herself while she watches your eyes flutter or when her eyes trail down to where you're connected.
Natasha becomes obsessed with the way your pussy sucks her in. How your wetness oozes out of your pussy, or how her fingers shine with your arousal as she pulls them in and out. Your hips slowly begin to move on their own accord but she presses down onto your hips.
Natasha pulls her fingers out just as you're about to peak and you whine.
"Why?"
"If you're gonna cum, you're gonna do it on my cock." She rasps, hands fumbling with the belt of her slacks. You wait impatiently, pussy clenching around nothing, nipples hardening at the thought of being filled up by her.
She slips out of her pants and underwear, cock slapping against her stomach, red, flushed, dripping with pre-cum. She was big. Length and girth. Your hand strokes her shaft and she hisses, head thrown back in ecstasy. You want to wrap your lips around your tip, but you can't because she pushes you down then lines herself up with your entrance.
"You sure no condom?"
"N-no, I want you in me, raw." She groans, cock throbbing. You're wet and needy so it's easy for her to slide right in.
Your breath stutters, legs wrapping around her waist to pull her closer. She thrusts inside of you a couple of times, her cock rubbing against your velvety walls. Her strokes start of fast and shallow before they slow down. Deep, hard strokes that make you lose breath, that make you choke.
"C'mon baby, breath for me huh, you're not breathing." She teases, pulling out before slamming back inside of you. That makes you moan out loud.
Your hands fist the sheets, eyes rolling back in pleasure. Natashas brows furrow, her hand placing your own on your pussy.
"Play with yourself." The command makes you clench around her. Your fingers rub your clit eagerly while she fucks you, you lift your head slightly, to watch the way her cock glides in and out of you. You throw your head back again, eyes closing in pure bliss, especially after a particularly hard thrust.
"Fuck!" You cry out, lips forming into a small pout.
"Open your eyes and look at me." Your eyes open, staring directly at the redhead, mouth hung open. Face to face. It's too intimate for Natasha's liking so she trails her eyes down to where you two are connected.
"So fucking wet, so warm and tight." You'd stopped rubbing your clit a while ago, once she'd lifted your leg and placed it above her shoulder.
With the new angle, you felt her digging your pussy, everywhere.
"Y-you're so big." You mumbled incoherently, it made her smirk.
"Yeah, can you feel me?" You nod your head vigorously.
"Say it."
"I c-can feel you." She spits directly onto your pussy, thumb rubbing your clit in fast circles. Your orgasm comes unexpectedly, crashing over you.
You have to bite your palm to keep yourself quiet. Your pussy gushes, a wetness coming out of you that you'd never felt before. Your eyes widen in shock, the redhead pulls out, more wetness just gushing out of your pussy. She'd just make you squirt for the first time.
"Fucking hell." She murmurs, sliding right back into you.
"Didn't think you had that in you. Is my dick that good baby?" Had she not have been fucking you into oblivion, you'd probably retort something back. Something sarcastic, something snarky .
All you do is nod, god you just nod. Her pace fastens, she's chasing her own orgasm, and you're chasing your second one. After one final thrust the both of you cum together, her seed filling your pussy up. Minutes later, she pulls out of you. Her cum mixed with yours just oozing out of you. She fucks it back in and you whimper.
Your leg is placed back down onto the bed. Your thighs ache in the best way possible. Your body hums from the pleasure, pussy still aching around nothing. You're content.
However the redhead isn't. Post nut clarity hits her.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
What the fuck was she thinking? Why the fuck wasn't she thinking?
"Iisus Khristos." She mumbles quietly, to herself. She gets off of you, and gets dressed almsot immediately. Why the fuck did she just fuck you? Is what runs through her head while she makes herself presentable. You sit up with shaky hands.
"Nat what are you-"
"This was a mistake." She murmurs, fixing the collar of her shirt.
She turns around, and avoids your gaze like she wasn't inside of you minutes ago. Like her cum isn't still dripping onto your thigh.
"Jesus, no one finds out about this." There's no room left to argue. She leaves immediately, but you don't hear the door to her own suite shut.
You lay back down, staring at the ceiling with tears already forming in your eyes.
"Fuck."
After months of convincing from my friend and reading so many books, I finally had the courage to post my first fic. So with that said, hi!? I got inspired by the amazing writers on here and I said fuck it, why not post my own. I hope this fic meets the standard of Tumblr lmao. I hope you lovelies enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing this. Can't wait to write more. Feedback is appreciated 🫶
Summary: After you admitted your feelings to each other, Natasha decided to ask you officially to be her girlfriend.
Word Count: ~1200
Genre: fluff
A/N: this is my first time writing a part two to a fanfic
Part 1
The soft glow of candlelight flickered against the kitchen walls, dancing in slow, golden ripples across the counter. The air smelled faintly of garlic, herbs and something warm that Natasha had probably burned just a little. She'd been pacing for the past ten minutes, hands buried in her pockets, eyes darting to the clock every few seconds.
“You look like you’re about to take a final exam you didn’t study for” Wanda said from the couch, her voice teasing. She was sitting on the couch, with a glass of wine in hand, watching Natasha.
Natasha shot her a glare that didn’t have much bite.
“Feels worse,” she muttered, “At least exams don’t stare back at you while you’re trying not to panic.”
Wanda smiled softly, “You’re asking her to be your girlfriend, not to robbing a bank.”
“Feels the same,” Natasha said, running a hand through her hair, “Except this time, I can’t screw it up. Not with her.”
“You won’t,” Wanda tilted her head.
Natasha didn’t anything at first. Her eyes moved to the table. There were two plates, wine glasses and some candles. There was a small bouquet on the table, one she’d picked earlier that morning, which was waiting for you.
“I keep thinking about the look on her face,” Natasha said quietly, “When she smiled at me the first time. When she said my name. When she fell asleep in the library,” she exhaled, almost to herself, “I don’t want to mess that up.”
Wanda set her glass down, her smile softening, “You won’t,” she said again, standing up, “You’ve already shown her who you are. She likes you, Nat. That's the point.”
“Thanks,” Natasha nodded.
“Anytime,” Wanda glanced toward the door, smirking, “I should leave, she will be here any minute,” she said, putting her hands on Natasha’s shoulders, “Now stop pacing and good luck.”
~
When you knocked, Natasha almost dropped the napkin she was holding. She caught it at the last second, muttered a curse under her breath and went to open the door.
When the door opened, the faint scent of candle wax and herbs greeted you first. Natasha stood there, bouquet in hand, trying to look casual but failing spectacularly. Her fingers tightened around the stems when she saw you.
You smiled, your hands moving before your voice did. Hi.
Her lips curved into a shy smile as she signed back. Hi. Her movements were a little stiff, she’s practiced, that much was obvious. She held out the flowers next, clearing her throat softly, “These are for you.”
You blinked, surprised, then grinned as you took them, “They’re beautiful,” you said, before adding, “Thanks.”
I'm glad you like them. She signed, stepping aside so you could enter.
The candles on the table flickered gently, the golden light catching on the rim of the wine glasses. You noticed the little details. The napkins were folded neatly, the faint scent of burnt garlic bread.
You hugged the bouquet so you could sign. You cooked?
Natasha gave a helpless laugh. Tried to. Don't look too close at the bread.
You covered a small laugh behind your hand, shaking your head. You did all this? For me?
“For us,” she corrected, softly, “I wanted tonight to be special.”
You felt your smile falter into something gentler, “It already is.”
For a moment the only sound was the faint rustle of the curtains and the slow rhythm of your breathing. Natasha looked at you.
“Let’s eat,” she said.
You nodded, smiling softly, and followed her to the table. Natasha pulled out your chair for you, the gesture so careful it almost made you laugh. When she sat down across from you, her fingers drummed lightly against her thigh nervously.
The food wasn’t perfect, a little too crisp at the edges, but you didn’t care. You signed, Smells good.
She smiled, exhaling a small laugh, “I hope it tastes half as good as it smells.”
You took a bite, nodded approvingly, then looked at her and signed. Better than you think.
That earned you a soft blush and a muttered, “You’re too kind.”
The two of you ate quietly for a while. The candlelight made everything feel smaller, warmer. Every so often, you’d catch her glancing at you, eyes full of something unspoken. You pretended not to notice.
When the plates were empty, Natasha stood to clear them, but you caught her wrist before she could. I’ll help. You signed.
She hesitated, then nodded. You washed while she dried, the silence between you full of soft glances and quiet smiles.
When the last dish was done, she turned to face you, her hands flexing slightly at her sides as if she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how.
You tilted your head, waiting.
She took a breath, “There’s… one more thing,” she said, stepping closer. Her voice had gone quieter, more uncertain.
You set the towel down, giving her a curious look. What is it? You signed.
Natasha exhaled, eyes flicking to the floor before meeting yours again, “It’s nothing bad,” she said quickly, a nervous little laugh escaping her, “I just…” she stopped, pressing her lips together as if trying to steady herself.
You waited patiently, your expression soft, encouraging.
“I know we’ve already said we like each other,” she began, her tone almost shy, “And I know you know how I feel,” she paused, the corners of her mouth twitching into a faint smile, “But I didn’t want to just leave it at that. I wanted to actually ask you.”
Your brows lifted slightly. Ask me what?
Natasha hesitated for only a heartbeat before her hands moved a little shaky. Will you be my girlfriend?
You blinked, a quiet laugh slipping out as warmth rushed through you. Her signs weren’t perfect, but the effort, the softness in her eyes, the way her voice trembled slightly when she spoke, it was all so her.
You smiled, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between you. “Yes,” you said, your voice steady, certain, “Of course.”
Natasha let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, a quiet, relieved laugh following it, “Yeah?”
You nodded, smiling wider. You were nervous?
Her cheeks flushed as she shrugged, “A little. I wanted to make it special.”
You grinned, reaching out to hook your finger gently through hers, “You did.”
Natasha’s smile softened at that. She squeezed your hand once, her thumb brushing over your skin, “Good,” she whispered, her voice low, content.
For a moment, you just stood there and then she added, barely above a whisper, “My girlfriend.”
You laughed quietly, saying, “Say that again.”
She did, smiling like she couldn’t believe it herself. “My girlfriend.”
And you said back, “Yours,” then you added, “Can I kiss you?”
Natasha’s answer came almost immediately, “Please.”
It was gentle at first, almost shy, the kind of kiss that spoke of everything neither of you had found words for yet. Then she smiled against your lips, and you felt her relax, warmth melting into the moment until all that existed was the soft press of her mouth and the faint hum of your heartbeat.
Tag list: @mirage018 @yelldontwhisper @canvascoloredin @perfectlyfoggycloud
Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
Morning cuddles with your girlfriend
[A/N] A little fluffy fic to make up for all the angst recently! Also loooooads of Natasha fics recently, the requests are crying for more Nat content 😂 Looking to write some other characters soon. Hope you enjoy this one 👀
Your eyes flutter open as you feel an arm tighten around your waist and the first thing you see is a flash of red. Natasha’s hair – she’s been growing it out and it seems to be everywhere you look these days. You grin as Natasha sits up a little and she smiles back at you, pressing a gentle, loving kiss to your lips “Finally, you’re awake.”
“The alarm hasn’t even gone off yet.” You complain “Why are you awake?”
“Want cuddles.” Natasha mumbles, lying down next to you, her arm tight around your waist as she nuzzles her face into your neck.
You smile. This side of Natasha is never shown to anybody else and to be honest it’s only rarely shown around you. Only when Natasha is feeling particularly vulnerable does she get so sweet and clingy. She came home late last night – so late that you’d already gone to bed. You’d woken briefly when you’d heard her come in but had quickly gone back to sleep.
“Is everything okay?” You ask her.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Sorry I was late last night.” Natasha sighs “Lots of stuff going on at work.”
You hum, running your fingers up and down her arm “You work too hard.”
“There’s not really any other option in my line of work.” You yawn and Natasha looks up at you “Sorry... If you’re still tired, you can go back to sleep-”
“It’s fine, I’m just waking up. I’m happy to cuddle.” You lean your head against hers, her red hair tickling your nose “Especially when you’re all warm, you’re like my own hot water bottle.”
Natasha had only moved in with you last month but already things seemed to be going well. You’d worried your differences would make living together difficult. Natasha is very neat and minimalist whereas you’re quite untidy and you have lots of stuff – trinkets, photos, books, movies, your apartment is just full of things. Natasha is also a morning person after years of early starts whereas you’re a night owl. Also Natasha tends to be quite reserved, holding back her feelings whereas you’re bursting to tell her absolutely every detail of your day the moment she walks through the door.
Despite all of these small things everything seems to be going okay. It’s nice to have your girlfriend around all the time and you like that you get to take care of her a little. Natasha hasn’t really dated before and she’s not used to people being kind to her just for the sake of being kind. There’s nothing you love more than having her favourite foods cooked for her when she gets home or offering to massage her feet whilst you’re both lazing on the couch watching a movie.
She sighs happily, pressing a loving kiss to your neck “You’re warm too. Like a teddy bear.”
You tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear “Any particular reason you’re in such a cuddly mood this morning?"
Natasha is silent for a moment and you figure she doesn’t want to get into it so you gently stroke her hair, staring up at the ceiling. You’d learnt pretty early on that pushing her didn’t work – she wouldn’t be convinced to open up if she didn’t want to. You’d found the best thing to do was stay quiet. She’d open up when she was ready.
“Thank you.” Natasha whispers.
“For what?”
“For understanding I don’t always wanna talk.” Natasha says “It’s not that I don’t trust you or anything, I just… I’m not used to it.”
“I know.” You say softly “And it’s okay.”
“I want to tell you everything. I just… I’m scared.”
“What are you scared of?”
“I don’t know. I guess that… If you knew everything. And I mean everything. That you wouldn’t look at me the same anymore.”
“Why don’t you tell me something now?” You ask “Since we’re not looking at each other.”
Natasha thinks for a moment, her eyes closed as she burrows further into your neck. She lets out a breath “I feel so dumb.”
“I’m not judging you, I promise.”
Natasha is silent for a long moment before eventually mumbling “You didn’t text me back yesterday.”
Your eye-brows furrow “Yeah I did, we texted throughout the day, we always do-”
“You didn’t reply to my last one. I text you that picture of Clint and Lila, saying they looked cute and you didn’t respond.”
You think back – you remember the text, the picture had been really cute. But you’d responded, you’re sure of it. You reach out one hand to pick up your phone from the nightstand and unlock it. Natasha watches, a small smile creeping across her face as she sees the lock screen photo of the two of you. She loves that photo – you’re kissing her cheek and Natasha is glaring but it’s obvious there’s no real anger behind that look. She’s crazy about you and despite her reserved nature everyone can see that.
You open the message and there’s the response you’d written out to her still sat in the text bar. You laugh “Oh baby I’m sorry, I must’ve forgot to hit send.”
Natasha smiles and kisses your shoulder “Idiot. I just… I was really worried about you.”
“Why were you worried?”
“I don’t know. I guess for the first time it occurred to me that maybe you could be targeted. You know, for being my girlfriend.”
“Ooh you think I’ll be kidnapped?”
“Why do you sound excited about that!?”
“I don’t know, I guess because it would be pretty hot to be all tied up and then my hot girlfriend comes in and saves me-”
Natasha pinches you and you yelp “Idiot. And if they torture you for information?”
“Bold to assume they’d have time to do that. I reckon you’d have me back in an hour, tops.”
Natasha smiles and kisses your shoulder “Whilst I love your faith in me, please try not to get kidnapped.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“You’re taking self defence lessons.”
“What-”
“I’m serious. I… I really panicked. And I knew it was dumb to panic, I knew you’d be here safe and sound but I still freaked out. It would make me feel better to know that you at least knew the basics of protecting yourself.”
You kiss her cheek “Fine. I’ll take the dumb self defence classes. But if I do get kidnapped, you better come and find me.”
“Obviously idiot. But just try not to get kidnapped in the first place.” Your alarm goes off and Natasha groans, her arm tightening around your waist again as you switch it off “What if I just refused to let you get out of this bed?”
“Well I’m in no position to fight off the infamous Black Widow. I guess I’d have to stay right here.” You meet her gaze with a small smile “Work might have something to say about it though.”
Natasha grins “Compromise… Ten more minutes?”
You kiss the top of her head “Sounds reasonable to me.”
Natasha smiles, nuzzling into your neck again with a fond sigh. She’s never been this relaxed and clingy around anyone before but you bring out this side of her. You’re the first person she’s ever wanted to tell all her traumatic childhood stories to – she wants to finally share the burden of everything she went through in the Red Room with someone. Someone who won’t judge her, who’ll hold her and tell her it wasn’t her fault. Natasha is pretty sure you’d do that but she can’t risk it just yet.
So for now, she kisses your neck again and lets out a happy hum. Satisfied to just get to cuddle with you for a little longer.
Summary: You and Natasha have been best friends since you were kids, attached at the hip, even through college. What happens when a new girl comes into the picture and a drunken night pushes the limits of you and Natasha’s friendship?
Warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT HA, virgin!Reader, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), dom!nat (I want her biblically)
Word Count: 6,300
Note: based on a request from my lovely @toy4nat
Natasha always knew how to make an entrance. You know this, you’d always known this- since you were kids, she’d always known how to make an entrance. You grew up on the shier side, always being a little bit more reserved and nervous to make friends or take up space. Your parents knew this about you from a young age, and so when you were eleven years old, they’d forced you into a playdate over at the Romanoffs. You had seen the fiery redheaded girl at school obviously, who hadn’t, but you’d never actually talked to her. You fell into a much different, much nerdier crowd than her at your middle school. She was the type to be the captain of every sports team, the coveted queen bee that all the boys had crushes on. So you were reluctant to say the least, but your dad had insisted, something about him and Alexei, Natasha’s father, “going way back”.
“Dad I can’t,” you whine, kicking your seat in the backseat of the car.
“You’re going to be fine, Y/n. It’s good to make friends, everyone needs friends.”
“But I have friends!,” you protest, “I have friends and I don’t need anymore, I like my friends.”
“Honey, I know you have a few friends from elementary, but none of them are at your middle school right? This is a good thing, I promise.”
Your dad had pulled you out of the car and rang the doorbell before there was anything else you could do about it. The door swung open almost immediately and standing in the doorway was an eleven year old Natasha Romanoff, with her hair pulled back into a tight french braid and an unassuming scowl on her face. You thought you were done for.
“Hi Natasha honey,” your dad says, “is your dad here?”
“Yea. He’s here. ALEXEI.”
“Oh goodness,” a big burly man with a beard comes up behind Natasha and claps her on the back.
“Alexei! It’s good to see you,” your dad shakes his hand while Natasha just squints at you with her hand still on the door like she might shut it in your face.
“Good to see you my friend! Now run along with your new friend Natasha,” Alexei grumbles. She just stands there for a moment too long, staring at you while you cower next to your father.
“I’m Y/n-,” you start, but she cuts you off.
“Yea I know. Come inside, we’re friends now,” she grabs your hand and tugs you inside, pulling you quickly towards her room. Your dad exclaims some sort of goodbye, but Natasha already has you down the hallway. “You’re pretty,” Natasha says matter of factly, her hand still in yours, “we’re going to have so much fun.”
You groan as someone pounds on your door, peeling yourself away from your homework to go open it.
“OPEN UP,” a muffled voice says behind the door. You lazily swing it open and Natasha comes barreling in. “Hi Y/n are you-,” she stutters, looking you up and down, “why the fuck aren’t you dressed,” Natasha asks with a scowl, throwing her hands up in the air.
“I have a midterm,” you respond flatly. Natasha groans dramatically. She’s wearing a tight black skirt that barely covers her butt cheeks with a red off the shoulder blouse and boots that rest just below her knees. Her hair is curled and she has sparkly eye shadow adorning her lids.
“God that’s so fucking boring, shut the door,” Natasha crosses her arms in front of you as you slam your dorm door in defeat.
“Natasha-,” you protest, “I love you, but I like actually cannot go out tonight.”
“Open your closet.”
“No.”
She huffs, pulling a couple shooters out of her purse and throwing them at you before stomping over to your closet and swinging the doors open.
“Fireball?,” you scoff, unscrewing one of the shooters, “you’re so gross.”
“Drink it princess,” Natasha yells, her head in your closet as she pulls out a few different dresses and tops. You throw it back and wipe your mouth, grimacing as it burns going down your throat.
“I can see your thong,” you mutter, your eyes watering from the fireball.
“Good,” Natasha whips her head back, giving you a shit eating grin, “I wanted you to.” You just roll your eyes in response, catching one of the dresses she throws at you. You pull off your t-shirt and sweats and pull on the dress while Natasha continues to rifle through your closet.
“Oh so you’re trying to get me laid,” you mutter, pulling up the straps and eying yourself in the mirror. She’d conveniently picked out the dress with the least amount of fabric, a black lacy strappy little thing that’s nearly see through.
Natasha turns around with a belt and a pair of boots, staring straight at your chest with a disinterested look. “I can see your tits.”
“Like full nip or what?,” you turn sideways in the mirror.
“Like, full tit, yea,” Natasha says nodding.
“I feel like it’s fine,” you respond, grabbing the belt from her and clasping it around your hips.
“I don’t think so,” Natasha opens a drawer and throws a red lacy bra at you. You pull down the straps off your dress and snap on the bra as Natasha digs around your vanity for some earrings. You pull the dress back up and then swiftly tug it down your thighs as Natasha sets out a pair of snug gold hoops.
“Can you do my makeup?” you mumble, smoothing the dress down and turning around.
“Drink another fireball and I’ll think about it,” Natasha responds, opening up the drawer of your vanity and pulling out your makeup bag.
“Fuck you,” you unscrew another shooter and throw it back quickly, gagging dramatically and tossing the empty bottle into the trash.
“Sit down,” Natasha mutters, pulling various different products out of the bag and tossing them on your bed. You sit down and cross your legs, reluctantly angling your face up towards her. “Good girl,” Natasha says in a mocking tone, holding your jaw as she swipes eye shadow across your lid.
“Oh my god,” you scoff.
“Wanda’s going to be there tonight,” Natasha says, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Okay yes and?”
“And I think you should fuck her so,” Natasha shrugs her shoulders, pulling out your black eyeliner.
“You’re like a frat boy with tits.”
“And an ass,” Natasha mumbles. You had only recently come out as bisexual to Natasha, and rather cautiously for that matter. You’d always known you liked girls, but you had only ever been with men your entire life and were always too scared to admit it. Finding out her childhood best friend that she’d followed to college was at least a little gay was like a game changer for Natasha. She had been out for years and had grown quite the reputation for herself since coming to college.
“I think your definition of fucking and my definition of fucking are very different,” you mutter with your eyes closed.
“Oh come on- you deserve a little fling with a cute girl am I wrong?”
“And if I don’t fuck her then you will-”
“And if you don’t I will yes.”
“I haven’t even been with a woman before, a one night stand seems like an unwise place to start.”
“I don’t think we’re going out to be wise babe,” Natasha responds, dusting a bit of highlighter on your cheek bones and nose.
“Yea but I feel like I should try respecting women before resorting to whatever it is you do,” you smile mischievously at her and she scowls.
“I respect women,” Natasha says with a glare.
“You rip and dip.”
“Y/n, I do not rip and dip,” Natasha picks up a dark red lip liner and carves out your top lip.
“If you had a dick, there would be at least five little Natasha’s running around by this point.”
“I’ve literally only slept with three people in the past two years,” Natasha blends the lip liner with her finger before unscrewing a red gloss.
“Maybe I’m projecting,” you admit with a shrug.
“Virgin,” Natasha mutters and you kick her in the shin.
“Stop!”
“And god forbid I want to change that,” she grimaces as your foot hits her shin but she just grabs your jaw harder, steadying you as she swipes on your lip gloss.
“I hate you,” you mumble.
“All done,” Natasha says, smacking your cheek lightly, “can we go now?”
You and Natasha each take two more shooters before heading down the street to the party. It’s a short walk, but you’re both sufficiently drunk, walking arm and arm and giggling the entire way.
“So when we get there you’re going to find Wanda,” Natasha giggles.
“Noooo Tasha I’m not,” you respond, stumbling ever so slightly.
“Okay so I’m going to find Wanda and make her find you?”
“TASHA NO.”
“Y/n pleaseeee let me live through you please,” Natasha whines.
“Are you taking a break from your romantic conquests or something, what’s wrong with you?”
“I’m focusing on myself right now,” Natasha says matter of factly, shrugging and tugging you forward towards the frat house.
“Sure you are,” you say sarcastically.
“I am!,” she smacks your arm, “and I just want my best friend to be happy.”
“You could always find me a man.”
“Oh my god,” Natasha pretends to gag, “why the fuck would you say that?” You just laugh at her, the music from the house reaching the sidewalk and vibrating through the soles of your boots. The amount of bodies multiplies as you and Natasha make your way into the front yard and push towards the front door. Natasha takes the lead per usual, grabbing your hand and pulling you in behind her as she pushes through the crowd. Once you finally make it into the house, the music is loud, lights flashing and distorting all of the moving faces in the room.
“Are you okay?,” Natasha yells over the music.
“What?”
“I said are you okay?,” she grabs your waist and pulls you closer so you can hear her.
“Oh! Yea I’m okay, are you okay?”
“I see Wanda over there,” Natasha says, nodding her head towards a corner. You turn to see Wanda dancing in a corner surrounded by her friends. She’s wearing a tight dress with a leather jacket and heels. You look back at Natasha with a nervous smile.
“Not yet, can we just dance together for a little bit?,” you ask nervously.
“Ugh if you insist,” Natasha says, playfully rolling her eyes. She grabs your hands and pulls you into the crowd, spinning you around. You almost fall into her, but she catches you and you both laugh, jumping up and down and dancing in the hot crowded room.
“Aren’t you glad I dragged you out tonight?,” Natasha says in your ear, holding onto your hips as you rock them back and forth against her.
“I mean I guess,” you shrug, one of your hands flying to playfully cup her face. You and Natasha had been best friends since the day your parents forced you to be. At first, Natasha had been so outgoing it almost scared you, but she quickly brought you out of your shell and before you knew it, you were attached at the hip. You’d gone to the same high school and ultimately made the decision to follow each other to college, both of you too intimidated by the real world to do it without each other. By this point, in your junior year of college, you were closer than ever. You’d seen each other at your worst, held each other’s hair back after bar hopping, held each other cry over boys and girls.
Natasha was like a safety blanket, an extension of yourself and so when she smiles at your face mere inches away from hers and squeezes your hip, you don’t think much of it. The party starts to melt away until it’s just the two of you, and as you laugh and dance, you see something in Natasha’s expression change. She looks at you in a way you only see when she’s drunk and all her guards are down. Her hands slide up your waist and you realize just how close she is and it makes your pulse throb in your ears. She looks like she’s about to say something when someone taps you on the shoulder. Natasha backs away and you turn abruptly to see Wanda standing behind you with a smile on her face.
“Wanda! Hi!,” you yell over the music.
“Hi Y/n!,” she says shyly, “I uh, just thought I would come say hi,” she rubs the back of her neck and looks away.
“I um- I’ll be right back,” Natasha mutters and starts weaving through the crowd before you can ask her where she’s going.
“Do you want to dance?,” you ask Wanda with a warm smile, extending your hand out to her. She takes it with a sheepish nod and lets you pull her into the mob of bodies. The two of you sway to the beat, growing closer with each passing song until Wanda’s back is swaying roughly against your front, your hands carefully at her waist.
“I know we’ve talked at parties before, but I wanted to catch a moment alone with you,” Wanda says, craning her head back to look at you, biting her lip.
“Well I’m glad you found me,” you respond with a smile.
“Hey-,” Wanda turns to face you, still swaying to the beat, “are you sure this is okay?,” she asks nervously.
“Yea of course- why wouldn't it be?,” your brow furrows.
“Um-,” her eyes briefly flick to the far corner of the room and you follow her gaze to find Natasha with her back against the wall and her arms crossed, staring at the two of you.
“Oh! Oh. No. Some people kind of just assume we’re dating,” you laugh, “but we’re not I promise, she’s just my best friend.”
“O-okay,” Wanda responds, unconvinced. You look back to Natasha and see that her eyes aren’t on you at all, but entirely trained on Wanda. She’s scowling in a way that you know is an unintentional slip of the mask, but you’re confused as to why.
“Um, hold on, just- I’ll be right back,” you say to Wanda before pushing past her and weaving through the crowd.
“You have my number right?,” Wanda calls after you and you just nod. You finally make it over to the corner where Natasha was moping, but when you get there she’s already gone. You do a 360, but can’t find her anywhere.
“Have you seen a redhead around here?,” you yell at someone nearby, “tiny skirt, boots, kind of mean?” A guy you recognize from your chemistry class points towards the front door and yells, “I think she went outside?” You thank him before pushing through the crowd and out the front door. You take a deep breath once you’re finally outside and away from the thick air of the house, scanning your surroundings for Natasha. You spot her sitting on the sidewalk in front of the house, smoking a cigarette with her knees pulled to her chest.
“Natasha!,” you yell out of breath, running over to her, “thought I lost you for a second.” She stands up when she sees you, grinding her cigarette into the ground with the heel of her boot before lighting another one.
“Hi,” she mutters once you get closer, her focus entirely on lighting her cigarette.
“Are you okay?,” you ask breathlessly, “you seemed upset in there.”
“What? No yea I’m good,” Natasha responds, nodding and taking a drag.
“Are you sure?,” you ask playfully, crossing your arms.
“Why wouldn’t I be?,” she doesn’t meet your eyes.
“You kind of went full guard dog for a minute there,” you say, bumping her shoulder with yours, “I think you scared her off,” you laugh.
“I did?,” Natasha looks up at you suddenly, a concerned look on her face.
“Just a little,” you shrug.
“Oh Y/n- I’m so sorry I- I didn’t mean to-”
“Oh my god- Nat it’s okay,” you put your hand on her arm playfully, “I was just joking.” The look on Natasha’s face is serious. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay..?” you say finally.
“I-,” Natasha pauses for a second, “I need to go,” she turns on her heel and starts walking down the street quickly.
“Natasha wait-,” you run after her, falling into stride next to her, “did I do something?,” you ask, feeling suddenly confused and a little hurt.
“No you didn’t do anything,” Natasha says quietly, refusing to look at you.
“Natasha stop-,” you grab her wrist and pull her towards you, her frantic stride stopping as she finally meets your eyes. The look you saw at the party before Wanda showed up flashes on Natasha’s face briefly, but it’s gone when you blink.
“Y/n I’m fine, just let me go home,” Natasha says sternly and it has you taken aback. She takes a step away from you, her green eyes filled with defense and warning.
“Oh my god,” you step towards her, cautiously placing a hand on her shoulder, “cool off Romanoff.”
“You’re pissing me off,” Natasha growls, ripping her shoulder away from you.
“Natasha,” you snap, “just tell me what the fuck your problem is huh? What’s your deal, why are you acting like this?,” you feel your cheeks start to heat up as anger rises in your chest.
“Just- can we drop it please,” Natasha sighs, her hands coming over her face.
“Nope! Not anymore!,” the volume of your voice rises, “you’ve been pushing me towards this girl all night, and then the second I actually get a moment with her, you fucking ruin it-,”
“Y/n-,” Natasha starts walking towards you, but you back away from her.
“And then you just leave? We always stick together at parties Nat, you know that, you know they make me anxious-,” your hands are flying around wildly as you take slow paces backwards, trying to avoid whatever energy is flowing out of Natasha.
“Y/n, please just-,” tears spring to Natasha’s eyes, but you just keep pushing, the alcohol loosening some sort of deep rooted emotion you didn’t know you had.
“If you don’t like her or you want her or something, that’s fine, but just fucking tell me instead of pushing me to fulfill some sort of agenda that-,” Natasha grabs you by the hips and pushes you backwards, your back hitting a tree, cutting off your sentence with an “oomph”. Your chest heaves and tears fall down your face, hot and angry.
“Why are you crying?” Natasha whispers.
“Why are you crying?,” you shoot back. You try to step away, but Natasha just presses your hips into the tree harder.
“Please stop crying,” Natasha whispers, her face inching closer to yours. Her proximity and her hot hands on you makes something swell inside your chest, something that hurts, something you’ve only fought to push down.
“Natasha-,” you mean for it to come out like a warning, like a snarl, but it just sounds like a plea instead. Suddenly her nose is touching yours, and your breath catches in your throat, the air around the two of you freezing.
“Tell me to stop,” Natasha rasps, her breath coming out hot on your face, her eyes searching you for something, anything. Your body betrays you and you shakily reach out your hand, your fingertips brushing at the space of skin between her shirt and her skirt. It lights a match between you and it’s enough, Natasha’s lips pressing into yours like a leap of faith. A small noise leaves your throat and Natasha presses her hips into you. You open your mouth for her and it’s everything, her tongue sliding hotly into your mouth with a groan. Your hands tangle into her hair and then trace down her jaw as she kisses you, just to feel what it’s like. You arch into her, letting the physical urge to touch every part of her with every part of you take over and she responds by pulling you flush by your hips. The kiss feels like a race, like you’re both desperately running towards something that you can’t have, like you need to feel everything now in case you never get to touch her again.
“Y/n?,” a voice rings out from down the sidewalk and Natasha abruptly tears herself away from you, “Y/n, is that you? Are you okay?,” It’s Wanda and she’s definitely coming this way.
“Wanda!,” you peek your head around the tree as Natasha backs away into the street, “hi, yea I’m okay.”
“Oh,” Wanda sighs with relief, “you never came back, I was worried about you.”
“No yea, I was just coming back actually,” you walk towards her, brushing your fingers through your hair and smoothing down your dress. Wanda meets you with a smile and grabs your hand, tugging you back towards the house. You peek behind you before Wanda can pull you through the doorway and see that Natasha’s already gone, nearly halfway down the block. Your fingers brush across your lips, the feeling of Natasha’s mouth on yours still lingering as you let yourself slip back into the sea of bodies.
You wake up the next morning with a groan, the sun shining through your window and piercing your eyes. You pick up your phone instinctively to see if Natasha’s texted you, but of course she hasn’t and so you just stare at your lockscreen, willing a text notification to materialize. You eventually toss your phone on the floor, pressing your face into your hands as the night comes rushing back to you. You’d been unable to even hold a conversation with Wanda after Natasha left, the remnants of the heated kiss outside clouding over every other coherent thought you might’ve had. You’d torn yourself away from the party shortly after, quickly walking back to campus and shutting yourself in your room. You had paced for what felt like hours, staring at your phone, waiting for Natasha to text you or for you to get the courage to text her. You weren’t sure how you felt, weren’t sure what it meant, but what you were sure of was that you liked it. A lot. You’d eventually tumbled into bed and fallen asleep, exhausted and still a little drunk.
You heave yourself out of bed, peeling off your dress from last night that you unfortunately fell asleep in. You think about Natasha’s searing hands on your hips, her hands on your waist, all the other places you wish her hands would’ve been. You want to smack yourself for kissing your childhood best friend and then smack yourself again for liking it so much. You pull on a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants before shuffling into your en suite bathroom to scrub off your makeup. You finally catch sight of yourself in the mirror and see that your mascara has run all the way down your face and the deep red lip liner is splotched all the way down your chin.
“God,” you mutter to yourself, splashing water on your face and scrubbing with soap. As you’re patting your face dry, you hear your phone buzz in the other room and you fly out of the bathroom and onto the floor where it’s laying. Natasha’s contact information pops up on the screen and you quickly open the message.
“Hi.”
Hi? That’s it? Another text bubble pops up.
“I think we should talk.”
You take a sharp breath, your heart jumping in your chest.
“You can come over to my room whenever you want.”
She starts typing and then stops and you put your phone down and smack your head into the floor. The panic sets in as you brush your teeth. What if you’re about to lose your best friend? What if you’re about to fuck everything up, ruin the reason you’re even at this school in the first place?
You slip on a pair of shoes and walk across the hall and down the stairs to Natasha’s floor. You think about just how close you and Natasha are, how everyone thinks you’re dating and how you’d never really thought much of it until now. You feel stupid now, remembering all of the longing looks Natasha had given you over the past few years. You’d felt the need to get even closer to her since coming to college, like you wanted to know her impossibly better than you already did. It all makes sense now- your comfortability with her touch, your disinterest in dating anyone, her disinterest in dating anyone. You wipe your sweaty palms on your sweatpants as you approach her door. You take a deep breath, knocking once and then opening the door.
You find Natasha sitting at her desk and she turns her head to look at you. Her appearance is similar to yours- sweatpants and a sweatshirt, her hair up messily and all of her makeup gone. She looks at you like she has everyday for the past ten years, but it sends chills down your spine.
“Hi,” you mumble, shutting the door behind you.
“Hi,” Natasha responds, getting up from her desk and sitting on her bed. She stares down at her feet, chewing on her lip.
“You wanted to talk?,” you ask, pressing your back into the door nervously.
“Yea, um- I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Natasha says quietly, still looking down.
“No- Natasha you don’t have to-,”
“No but I do,” she lifts her head to look at you now, “I’m sorry Y/n, I shouldn’t have done that.” The look on Natasha’s face is defeated, and the bags under her eyes tell you she hasn’t slept at all.
“Natasha,” you sigh, rushing over to her and standing in front of where she’s sitting, “you don’t need to apologize.”
“What do you mean?,” Natasha asks, her brow furrowing.
“I-,” you stutter, unable to find the words, “I just- you don’t,” you step closer to her, your body resting between her legs, “I liked it, y- you don’t need to apologize.”
“You liked it?,” Natasha asks, a flicker of hope flashing across her face.
“Yea,” you mumble, looking down at your hands, feeling shy all of the sudden.
“Y/n look at me,” Natasha says firmly and you lift your head to look at her, “you mean it?”
“I mean it.”
“Y/n I’m in love with you,” Natasha blurts out and you instinctively lean into her, but she stops you before you can kiss her, “no- no, I need you to understand that if you kiss me it’s going to mean something,” she looks scared, her eyes flying around your face.
“Natasha I know,” you mumble, a smile creeping up your face.
“If you kiss me right now it means a lot of things, it means everything and so this is me telling you that if even a small part of you doesn’t feel the same, then you need to tell me now and-,”
“Natasha,” you cut her off, your hand coming to rest on her knee, “shut up.”
“Y/n.”
“Tasha.”
She kisses you suddenly, a test, and when you press yourself further in between her legs, her hands come to your waist and grip hard, pulling you closer. Your hands come to rest on her hands, shakily dragging up and over her arms and resting on the sides of her face, twisting into her hair so she can’t pull away. She coaxes your mouth open with her tongue and when you grant her entrance, she sighs, deepening the kiss to the point where your legs feel like they might give out. She wraps her legs around you, trapping you against her as her hands run up your back. Her touch lights a fire deep inside of you and you chase it, one of your hands coming down to grip her thigh as her legs squeeze your torso. You want her, you want her in a way you’ve never wanted anyone else and you kiss her hungrily, wordlessly begging her to take you, to have you as hers and only hers.
“Y/n,” Natasha murmurs against your lips as your hand mindlessly travels further up her thigh. She pulls away and you whine, trying to pull her back in, but she doesn’t let you. “Y/n,” she says again, her thumb brushing over your swollen lips. Her cheeks are red and her hair is falling out of her bun, and her eyes are soft, softer than you’ve ever seen them before. You let everything boil to the surface, all the admiration that you’d passed off as friendship, all the love that wove so much deeper than you’d thought.
“Natasha,” you respond, your forehead coming to rest against hers, “please.” She just swallows, nodding wordlessly and tipping her lips to yours. You press yourself into her, kissing her hungrily, but she pulls away ever so slightly when you try to deepen the kiss. Her hands resting on your waist slowly slip underneath your sweatshirt as she slows down the kiss, kissing you deeply and with purpose. You want to cry when her hands trail up your sides and dance over your ribcage.
She pulls away, looking at you with her hands lightly lifting your sweatshirt. You nod, raising your arms and allowing her to pull your sweatshirt up and over your head. You aren’t wearing anything underneath, but you don't care, pressing your bare chest into Natasha’s hands and kissing her again. She kisses you for a moment, her hands running up and down your stomach, before lightly placing a hand on your sternum. You pull back and watch as she pulls off her sweatshirt, revealing her bare chest. You just stare down at her for a minute, taking in her skin, the dip of her collarbones, her hardening nipples. You’d seen her tits before obviously, having changed in front of each other countless times, but never like this, never in such great detail, allowing yourself to actually look. Her hand is on your neck, pulling you back in and you kiss her slowly, your hands nervously running up her stomach and to the swell of her breasts. She arches into you, urging you to keep going and you cup her breasts, delicately running your thumbs over her nipples. She twitches against your touch, her hand squeezing your waist and a small noise leaving her throat. You keep going, wanting to pull more noises out of her, pinching her nipples and she responds with tightening the hold her legs have around you. You trail your hands back up and into her hair and she pulls you into her roughly, a moan leaving your mouth as your bare skin meets hers. She tugs you up onto the bed and you let out a breathy laugh, your lips briefly leaving hers as you climb up.
“Come here,” Natasha murmurs, laying back onto the pillows. You climb on top of her, straddling her hips and resting your hands on her rib cage.
“Natasha,” you say breathlessly, your heart beating out of your chest at the sight of her hooded eyes and her kiss bruised lips, “you’re being so… gentle.”
“I can be gentle, Y/n,” Natasha says quietly, “or not, depending on what you want,” she grabs your arm and tugs you down onto her, your chest pressing against hers once again as she kisses you. Her hands trail up your chest and squeeze softly, a quiet noise of pleasure leaving your mouth at her touch. She presses her thigh up and between your legs, pulling a louder noise from you that has her smiling into the kiss. She presses her thigh into your center again and you instinctively grind your hips down into her, doing everything you can to keep your composure and kiss her back. One of her thumbs brushes over your sensitive nipple and it has you gasping, your mouth falling open against hers.
Natasha flips you over with a growl, pushing you onto your back and planting both of her hands on your ribcage, pinning you to the mattress.
“Natasha,” you whimper, watching as her mouth attaches to your nipple. She swirls her tongue over it and it has your head flying back into the pillows, your hand coming to tangle into her hair. “Natasha- I’ve never done this before,” you whisper breathily as she sucks your nipple into your mouth.
“Oh baby I know,” Natasha says into your chest, releasing your nipple with a pop, “do you need me to stop?,” she murmurs, her thumb coming up to gently swipe across your cheek.
“No- no please don’t stop,” you say with a shake of your head.
“Well if it’s too much,” she whispers, mouthing down your stomach, “just let me know.” You gasp as her tongue darts out to trace a line down your abdomen, her hands toying with the waistband of your pants.
“Natasha please,” you whimper, wanting her lower, wanting her deeper, wanting her everywhere. She gently tugs down your sweatpants, leaving you in just your underwear and sliding back up your body. She kisses you hard, her tongue slipping into your mouth as her thigh slips back between your legs. You arch your hips into her thigh, desperately seeking some kind of friction. She kisses you and kisses you and kisses you and you start to turn into a breathy mess beneath her as her thigh continuously rubs against the thin fabric of your underwear. You cling to her, clawing at her back, kissing her breathlessly. You groan at a particularly hard push of her thigh into your center and Natasha pulls back to look at you, laughing lightly.
“Are you okay?,” she asks gently, but it feels mocking.
“Natasha I swear to god if you don’t just fuck me already-,” another groan is ripped out of your chest as Natasha slides her thigh against you again.
“I’m going to take such good care of you,” she murmurs and you dig your nails into her shoulder, your head rolling back. She swiftly attaches her lips to your neck, trailing kisses down your throat and chest, pulling herself lower and lower until she’s level with your hips. She looks up at you, pulling your underwear down slowly while still holding eye contact. You just nod, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you prop yourself up on your elbows.
“Just wanna make you feel good,” Natasha whispers, pulling one of your legs up and over her shoulder. She kisses down your thigh, nipping lower and lower until her mouth is at your center. She traces a single finger through your wetness and it’s enough to have you arching into her already.
“So needy,” Natasha says with a testing smile, “be patient,” she dips her finger inside of you and curls it up and out, her eyes trained on your every reaction. You whine and she just nods, thrusting again. “Good baby,” she whispers, leaning down and taking your clit into her mouth. Your back arches off the mattress with a groan, your fingers twisting into Natasha’s sheets.
“Natasha-,” you beg.
“Shh baby I got you,” she says before pressing her tongue to your clit. Her free hand comes up to untwist the sheets from your fist and lace her fingers between yours. She shallowly gives you a single finger as she swirls her tongue over your sensitive clit.
“Tasha more,” you plea, gripping her hand tightly. She obliges, working a second finger inside of you and it has the moans ripping through you coming faster and louder. She’s licking into you slow and hard, her fingers matching the pace of her tongue like she doesn’t want the moment to end. You look down at her and it’s almost too much, the way her eyes are boring into you and her fingers are slipping in and out of you so easily. Every curl of her fingers sends a wave of electricity through your body, nearly bringing tears to your eyes as she repeatedly hits the spot that has you squirming and whimpering beneath her.
“You like it when I fuck you slow, huh?,” Natasha says into you, and it’s enough for the coil in your stomach to pull and clench. Your hand flies into her hair and your thighs close around her head, but she keeps going, each flick of her tongue and beckoning of her fingers inside of you deliberate. You pull her hair hard and she groans, your head flying back into the pillows as a long moan leaves your lips. Your thighs shake around Natasha’s head, and you can feel her smiling into you as you come. She gives you a few more hard thrusts of her fingers, continuing to suck on your clit until you’re too sensitive and pushing her away. She reluctantly detaches her mouth from your heat, gently pulling out her fingers and kissing your thighs. You just pant, staring at the ceiling as you feel her snake back up your body.
“Congratulations, I fixed your virginity problem,” Natasha says smugly, wiping her mouth.
“Stop it,” you shoot back, but you’re visibly spent, your chest rising and falling quickly and your pupils still blown with lust.
“Do you still love me?,” Natasha asks sheepishly, her hands on either side of your head as she looks down at you.
“Yes- god I love you so much come here,” you pull her face down to yours and kiss her messily, tangling your legs with hers.
“Well that’s good to hear,” Natasha mumbles into your lips.
“Now show me how you like to be fingered,” you say with a grin, pulling back to look at her.
Summary: The universe seemed to be mocking you as you ran like the light from dark. But the difference between fate and destiny was that no matter how much someone tried to mess with your destiny, fate was meant to be fulfilled sooner or later.
Pairing: g!p! Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader
Warnings(+18): car accident, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of eating disorders, allusion to s/a, usage of truth serum, angst-ish chapter, signs of depression and anxiety
you don’t have permission to translate/repost my work anywhere. Please be respectful. Likes, reblogs and comments are welcome and appreciated. MDNI — Regina.
A/N: GUESS WHO’S BACK? BACK AGAIN… Hi babies! I’m sorry I went MIA for a while, for some reason this chapter was a challenge to write because not only was I failing to find the right words, I was overstimulated by a lot of things and well, I have diagnosed BPD type 2, so apparently my maniac episode ended and the drop was extremely hard. But I’m getting there. Thank you if you still here, hope you enjoy the chapter ♡
CHAPTER MOOD: Let me down slowly — Alec Benjamin
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
There was something about rich people and their need to own big buildings that painted Manhattan’s skyline.
His steps were stealthy as he walked across the lobby, but as much as he didn’t want to stand out, it was more than obvious that he didn’t belong there.
The reason behind it went beyond the way he looked; he was wearing black jeans, a tee, and a leather jacket. He didn’t mean to stand out because his job was to actually blend in.
However, in a place where extravagance was everywhere, simple clothing stood out. And his demeanour — controlled and confident — wasn’t enough to match the powerful energy that came with money.
It was a charade.
The air was charged with hollowness. Despite their pockets being deep, the emptiness was bigger because money truly couldn’t buy everything. But he would be lying if he said that at some point in his life he never dreamed of that position.
In fact, he wasn’t sure in what moment the money started feeling empty and his job more like a hobby. Sometimes, he lay wide awake in bed wondering if he really was as messed up as the people that hired him.
It started as just one job to have financial relief.
He was an ex-assassin turned mercenary after he got kicked from special forces. But he promised himself it was just going to be one job and that he would keep a type of code when it came to targets.
Somehow, one job turned into multiple. Fat envelopes landing on his hands, an inexistent personal life that only pushed him to keep working, and the addiction for the adrenaline of the job only growing bigger.
It was messed up, he knew that. And he tried to stop; he told himself he really didn’t need the money because just like the rich, he had enough but nothing to spend it on that mattered.
Yet, there he was again. In a big lobby with marble floors and shiny lights. A huge counter with a small woman behind it as the receptionist and still feeling like no matter if his bank account was big enough, he wasn’t part of that social circle.
But he worked for them.
He approached the young receptionist, a well-practiced smile that almost reached his eyes and looked sincere. He gave out one of his aliases and announced he had an appointment.
It really was an odd day.
Usually, he would hold meetings at night when the secrets were kept by the dark. But whoever reached out to him made it clear that daylight was better and they weren’t afraid of leaving a trail.
The young receptionist asked him to take a seat as she announced his arrival and offered him something to drink, but he ended up declining. He was feeling uneasy; he was a loner and being in a big place with shiny things and fake people wasn’t sitting right with him.
This was his first daylight meeting and probably would be the last.
Soon enough, he was being guided through a large hallway that led to a private elevator. The lights were flickering, and even when his steps were trained to be as a predator, he could hear the clicking of his own shoes along with the receptionist’s heels.
He thanked her once he was in the elevator, and she used her ID to press the top button. He watched her walk away as the door closed, and he sighed, finding comfort in the silent mental box and cold air.
His eyes wandered around, finding the security camera on one of the top corners, but he realised that it was turned off. So his new employer cared about leaving a trail after all. And he smirked softly.
The game in his head started as the elevator kept going up. A game where he tried to figure out what type of person was requiring his services and the type of target. The reasoning didn’t matter to him; everyone had a reason to hate someone, but wanting them dead was completely different.
He would rather stay ignorant. Because if he knew, he probably would follow the reasoning or side with the target. He only cared about age; children and elders were off-limits for some reason. And he never went to something sadistic. If he was killing someone, he would do it fast and clean.
Death shouldn’t be painful.
The door opened and he was greeted by a young man that offered him a drink. He declined once again as he was being led to a big set of wooden doors.
He took a second to look around the room; there was a small crystal desk with scattered papers, a computer and of course, a phone. There was also a pair of small sofas and just a single plant to make the room feel less… cold. And the sun was pouring through the windows as he noticed he was on the top of the building.
Rich people and their constant need of going up literally and figuratively.
The man opened the wooden doors and stepped aside to let him in as the harsh voice of a woman reached his ears. He almost laughed; most of his clients were women, somehow. There was something almost poetic in the way women wanted revenge and it was most of the time against their husbands.
The doors shut behind him as he looked around the big office. There was something cold about the place. It was big, lighted up by the sun and white strobe lights, not enough greenery and it smelled like whiskey and power. He noticed the remains of a burning cigarette left behind on an ashtray and the woman was looking through the window panels with an irritated tone and a phone in hand.
He decided to get comfortable in one of the chairs before the desk, getting into a casual demeanour to feign friendliness but also to remind the client he was in control. He still had the right to say no, he could choose and walk away.
He never did. But there was something comforting in knowing he could.
The woman groaned and hung up. And when she turned around, he noticed how beautiful she was. A beauty that people would only find in museums, imposing and demanding. It was powerful in a way that demanded attention. No, it deserved the attention.
“By all means, get comfortable” she said sarcastically and took her seat, a big leather chair that almost looked like a throne “Did Eric offer you a drink?”
“I declined” he replied with a steady tone “After all, I only came here for business, not for a friendly chat”
She smirked, clearly amused at his words but nodded. He watched her open one of the drawers of her wooden desk and placed two envelopes and a file. She handed him the file and he tilted his head slightly to the side as he took it.
“I want to be very clear about something” she started as he opened the file, information of his target organised with schedules, pictures, addresses and even eating habits “I don’t want her dead” at those words he looked up and raised a brow “I just want her back”
“And your idea for that is hiring a mercenary?” he asked with amusement and curiosity.
She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to decide how much she could share, how far she could go and what limit she could cross. She reminded herself why she was doing this; it wasn’t to destroy, it was to bring her daughter back to her and on track before she made a mistake.
If anyone asked, she truly was a concerned mother.
“Well, my daughter seemed to forget that she needs me” she stated and he almost squinted. A mother trying to hurt her own child, that was somehow new for him “I will pay you double your fee to make sure she survives an accident. She has to be alone, that partner of hers needs to be out of the picture”
She pointed a picture of her daughter holding hands with someone else and he noticed the edge on her tone. His mind was trying to figure out the why, breaking his own code about the reason behind it. Her words were somewhat cryptic, practiced but firm.
He wondered how long has she been planning this.
“Do I have to deal with her partner too?” he asked, the task was extremely odd.
“No, I will deal with that issue” she replied, her eyes darkening at that part.
She was furious about her daughter’s love life choices. Control was slipping through her fingers as she watched her own blood choosing someone so beneath her. But it was useless trying to reason with her daughter, after all she was in the stage of fighting back to claim independence.
And her daughter was independent, she was proud of it. But she didn’t work so hard all those years for her own daughter to throw all out of the window for someone that would take her back to square one. Specially after she met the first option, someone with ambition that understood that power wasn’t given, but it was earned.
She was a concerned mother for her own daughter’s future. She had a vision for her, a perfectly curated plan where she could ensure success. And her daughter only needed a little push into the right direction, the path her mother could control to make sure she was safe.
Her own lineage depended on it too.
“Right. So like a car accident” he offered, already deciding that whatever that woman was planning on, it was more messed up than his previous jobs. She nodded “I can make it happen in two weeks based on schedule”
She nodded again and offered him one of the envelopes “This is the first part of the fee. After the job is done, you can pick the rest as long as she is safe”
“Car accidents are unpredictable, though” he said, standing up and taking the first envelope.
Her grip tightened, a silent command to keep him in place. She knew it would be a tricky job but she wasn’t willing to let it happen anyway. She even hired a private investigator to find her the best man for this job, and she knew he was capable of controlling the situation.
“Make it predictable. Be there to help” she said sternly, her tone lowering in a way that sent a shiver down his spine “It’s about scaring her enough to bring her back to me”
He nodded, already understanding that whatever she wanted, she would find a way to get it. And at least, he would get something new to keep him entertained. However, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that her plan sounded off, dark in a way that it didn’t match with her maternal concern.
Who would do that to their own child? Weren’t mothers supposed to protect and loved their children?
It truly was a fucked up way to get someone back. But he couldn’t judge, his own job made him part of the problem and even if he wanted to decline, he was intrigued by the whole situation. He would even be around to know if her plan was a success or if she failed.
Something told him it would work. She looked like a woman that made everything work and this wasn’t any exception. Family was, after all, her most precious possession.
And she always took care of her own things.
(—)
After the Maximoff charity gala and your mother’s incessant calls, you managed to have a great summer next to your girlfriend and your best friends. But as much as you tried, the voice of your mother kept resonating in the back of your mind some days.
‘You don’t belong in her world, darling. What will you do when she realises you aren’t enough and she throws you away? People like her always do’
You weren’t sure how you even got to that point.
Your mother started off by lecturing you about your behaviour and asking your grandmother for help when you knew they weren’t on speaking terms.
And somewhere down the conversation, she started to trash Natasha, blamed her for everything that happened and when you started to fight back, those words came like a bucket of cold water as if she already knew you were doubting yourself.
By the time the call ended, you did everything in your power to bury those words. Your mother didn’t have the right to ruin your relationship like that and yet, the whole thing stung because the words alone hurt but knowing your mother would never be happy with whatever you did never failed to break your heart.
However, the rest of the time you put on your happy charade. Not to deceive your girlfriend or the twins, but to deceive yourself. And it worked, most of the time at least.
Although, some nights you woke up with your heart hammering and your mother’s voice ringing in your ears. You fought back the tears each and every time, watching Natasha sleep peacefully next to you unaware that your mother’s words dragged more than one insecurity.
You didn’t feel enough for the amazing human being that made sure to hold you close every night. And sometimes, you believed your days next to her were numbered. It wasn’t like Natasha gave you reasons to distrust her but at nights your mind wasn’t so kind to you.
The redhead always called you perfect but you knew you were far from it. You had a bad temper, you hated your body and you hated even more all the small bits of yourself that made you, you.
Your mind always ended up comparing you both just to name all the reasons as to why Natasha would leave. From where you were standing, you were the lucky one. In your eyes, your girlfriend was really a beautiful human being.
Physically, Natasha didn’t need to work as hard as you did.
She maintained a balance between what she ate and her workout and still looked deliciously hot. You had watched her down more food than you could ever take without gaining weight. The redhead even dared to compete with Pietro one of those summer days and won — you swore she even lost weight without trying after that.
Your girlfriend was also extremely beautiful.
You had memorised every inch of her face, the sharpness of her jawline and her cheekbones, the green of her eyes that was way different from Wanda’s and sometimes looked a little blue, the plumpness of her lips and the length of her eyelashes. Always looking naturally beautiful, unlike you that almost depended on your makeup at this point.
Even her hair was ridiculously perfect, always shiny and soft without even trying because if Natasha could, she would use only a soap bar to wash herself and the only reason she didn’t was that she loved how you smelled and stole your hair products.
And you had to take care of every aspect of yourself. What you ate, how much you worked out, what you wore and an infinite amount of products to look pretty enough. It wasn’t something bad, you told yourself as much because you were taking care of your body.
But your girlfriend didn’t need to try. You did and that somehow made you feel less next to her.
Emotionally talking, Natasha felt softer, warmer and even more friendly.
When you first met her, you thought her charming self was nothing but an act and a trap for women. To some point, it was because she wasn’t even half as charming when flirting with a random woman as she was when flirting with you. She always managed to make your heart flutter and your cheeks heat up.
The redhead was funny, carefree, extremely smart without showing off that she knew too much and had a kind heart. She felt like a summer day herself and her arms felt like the safest place on earth.
Natasha was everything you weren’t.
Next to her, you were a mess. Stubborn, controlling, you lost your temper easily and could be a little threatening. Even when you tried to look carefree and be spontaneous like your girlfriend was, you couldn’t. Your mind spiralled every time you faced a small change in schedule, your anxiety crept in your stomach and you were irritated when being late.
No matter how hard you tried, you could never find good things to say about yourself. Let alone think something bad about Natasha because even the bits that drove you crazy, you were learning to love.
Your girlfriend was reckless and impulsive. She always seemed to be distracted and sometimes it felt like you were taking care of a child that was about to set herself on fire. But even then, your heart melted when she gave you a goofy smile or pouted trying to get away from a lecture.
So in the middle of the night with your mind aiming to kill and your eyes focused on the sleeping beauty by your side, you thought of all the things Natasha always offered you and the ones you lacked to give.
Your insecurities were frying every nerve in your body and with that came the feeling that was never part of yourself but now was a threat in the back of your mind: jealousy.
Unlike your girlfriend, that loved to claim you every single time she felt threatened by anyone, your jealousy was silent and maddening. Because the conflict was internal, an endless debate between the hatred towards the feeling, knowing you didn’t own her and trying to hold onto the thought that she loved you.
Some days, Natasha made it easier for you. Her hand always finding its way over your lower back, always calling you her girlfriend when a girl bluntly flirted with her even when you were right there. But some other, your girlfriend was an idiot and failed to see when someone flirted with her.
Her smile was polite but awfully charming, her eyes always twinkled and her body was always relaxed. Those days you were close to killing her for being so damn friendly and attractive. Your skin burned and your chest tightened as you tried not to commit a crime right then and there.
You trusted Natasha, you needed to believe you did because that was the whole base of your relationship. But your mind always screamed that maybe the next girl that flirted with her would do the trick and steal her from you. So instead of claiming her, you always walked away with your heart almost broken by your own thoughts.
And it all circled back to your mother’s words.
Why couldn’t she just be happy for you? Why would she say those things? Wasn’t a mother supposed to love her children? Wasn’t she supposed to love you and support you?
Now, with the summer coming to an end, you were back at the city with your girlfriend sleeping next to you and your mind keeping you hostage. And you wished you could truly hate your mother as if that would make things easier for you.
In reality, you only hated yourself and you weren’t sure if that was your mother’s doing or it truly came from you.
You had tried multiple times to stop it. You went to therapy, you tried affirmation words every morning, you tried to focus on yourself. But the wound was deep and you couldn’t see yourself anymore, not really.
You were a shadow in your own life.
Maybe that was the reason you loved dancing so much, because under the spotlight and over a stage you were able to shine for just one moment. Everyone watched but it wasn’t the attention what you loved, it was that those were the only times you got a glimpse of yourself.
You got out of bed, tears prickling in the corner of your eyes as you found your way to the kitchen. Your apartment looked less like you and more like a shared space. Natasha’s things now had a permanent spot. The air was mixed with your perfume and her cologne. Pictures of you two together now joined the ones of your family and friends. The food at the fridge was no longer labelled since you both knew what the other ate, the cupboard was no longer divided and the living room now had a bigger blanket for both of you.
That night, all the small things felt heavy. Because Natasha no longer slept in her room, none of you knew how to sleep alone anymore. The gaming consoles had her profiles, the streaming services were now shared and your closet was slowly getting stacked with her clothes.
After drinking a glass of water and finding your way to the sofa, all the thoughts and the consequences of your perfect love life broke you down. You started to silently cry with one daunting question in mind.
What would you do if you two broke up?
Nights were supposed to be your allies, you learned that from the redhead. But lately, they were haunting you and you felt the weight of it all. You wrapped yourself in the blanket that smelled more like your girlfriend and only made you cry harder, your skin prickling and your head starting to hurt.
On the other hand, a very sleepy and unaware Natasha was blindly seeking for your body. She always did, as if she was a child needing her teddybear to sleep. So it took her almost two minutes to wake up when she realised your side of the bed was now cold.
The closet’s lights were turned off and she couldn’t hear you in the bathroom. Luckily for her, the silence in the house made it easy for her to hear your sobs and her heart dropped. She got out of bed, her senses still slightly numb but her body was reacting anyway.
If you only paid attention, you would know that those same fears and insecurities you had, your girlfriend did too. But Natasha’s free soul never stopped to do the big introspect you always did, maybe that was why she didn’t worry as much.
Natasha loved you. She just didn’t know your mind was making you doubt everything.
The redhead found you wrapped in your blanket, sniffling and looking tinier than you already were. At that point, she had seen you cry enough times but that night Natasha knew it was different this time. Maybe she should’ve asked, maybe she should’ve pushed but when it came to you, her first instinct was always to protect.
Silently, she sat next to you and pulled your body closer. Your arms instinctively wrapping around her as you straddled her lap with your face hidden in the crook of her neck. Natasha kept fighting the sleepiness that kept begging her to go back to bed as her hands rubbed gentle circles on your back.
The redhead rocked your bodies, humming softly to comfort you as you kept sobbing in her arms. You were begging for your mind to leave you alone, your heart seeking the security Natasha was offering but your mind screaming the same thing over and over again.
What would you do if you two broke up?
If Natasha left, you would be half a heart without her. It sounded poetic and scary; loving someone that much truly was a double edged knife. You were so happy with her that now you weren’t so sure you would know how to exists without her.
Yet, your heart found a way to fill the air.
“I love you so much” you whispered, your voice as broken as your soul. You sounded defeated, you were just that because that night your insecurities won the battle. Yet, your girlfriend was anchoring you in the safety of her arms “I truly do”
Natasha noticed the pain in your words, the fear at the edge of your tone and how your fingers tugged her tee as if you were trying to hold onto her. Whatever you were thinking, your girlfriend knew it wasn’t kind. But she was there, she always would be there as long as you wanted her.
Instead of asking, she decided to give you comfort with the same amount of love.
“I love you too, princess” she whispered and her arms tightened around your body, to ease your nerves and help you relax your stiffened body “You have no idea of how much”
You pulled back. The moonlight was pouring through the window panels of the living room, lighting up half of your girlfriend’s face enough to notice the twinkle in her eyes.
God damn, Natasha was so fucking beautiful even when her hair was messy and her face looked tired. And the soft smile she offered you melted your heart at the same time that it hurt.
You clung to the good side of the feeling, pressing your lips against hers as tears kept rolling down your cheeks. It was a kiss that felt raw and more intimate, one that screamed with need and a different type of desperation. There weren’t fireworks or heated feelings. But the emotions were displayed between you, heavy and unforgiving.
It was a bittersweet kiss. One that wrapped yourselves in need of staying like that for the rest of your lives but with fear that it could be the last. Of all the kisses you both ever had, that kiss was the most charged one. It was crushing but healing, it was the dark side of love that didn’t feel like rainbows and flowers.
Love between you at times felt like a fairytale as though you two were in a movie. That night, love felt matured and dark, heavy in a way that was breaking you both and putting you back together. It felt more real.
There wasn’t lust, the bubbly feeling was gone, all you had left was raw love that sank in your bones as your lips moved desperately and your hands cradled Natasha’s face.
You were almost trying to memorise her. Just in case. Just that night.
And the redhead was more than happy to let you take whatever you needed from her. Natasha loved you with the same passion and depth as you loved her.
You were just failing to see it.
(—)
You were grateful that Natasha didn’t ask about that night.
Life kept running its course and your girlfriend only seemed to be attached to you. Some part of the redhead wanted to ask what happened that got you crying at three in the morning but by the time she found the courage to do so, you had forgotten about it and she would hate herself if she was the reason you cried again.
You were now three weeks away from starting school, which meant you were already stressed about it since it would be your last year. Falling back into routine wasn’t hard, not for you at least. On the other hand, Natasha was complaining again about the morning runs.
At the Hamptons, your routine changed slightly and you let your girlfriend convince you to skip running and stayed in bed instead. But summer was ending and you needed to feel more like yourself again, it was the only thing that felt normal.
That morning wasn’t any different.
Natasha had whined when you woke up. You reminded her that she could simply stay in bed and didn’t have to join you, which apparently only made her whine even more and she made drama about it while saying you didn’t want her there. And after throwing a tantrum over the bed as you changed, the redhead finally got out of bed and changed into her running clothes.
At this point, that was also part of the usual routine. Including the moment you stopped on your tracks to admire her body; Natasha always wore a sports bra and shorts that reached above her knees. She was deliciously hot, her abdomen never failing to turn you on in an instant and she always caught you biting your lip as she pulled her hair up in a ponytail.
“Like what you see?” Natasha teased, chuckling softly when your cheeks blushed. She approached you and grabbed your hand, placing it over her abdomen “You can touch, did you know that?”
“Let’s go before you attempt to get me naked” you ignored her and turned around, deciding that no matter how wet you were in that moment, you needed to hold onto your schedule.
Natasha sighed dramatically, her eyes roaming your body and deciding to buy you more yoga pants because your ass looked so delicious and all she wanted to do was to rip them open and fuck you right then and there.
Both made your way out of the apartment, greeting Amelia and scolding your girlfriend for dragging her feet on the floor making her sneakers screech. At the elevator, you kept pushing Natasha off knowing damn well she was still trying to get you turned on enough that you wouldn’t reach the building’s entrance.
“There was a time when you begged me to fuck you at all hours” Natasha pouted and you rolled your eyes, walking out of the elevator “What is it? Is sex boring now for you?”
It was half a joke, Natasha knew that. Deep inside, she actually feared you were getting tired of her and she was panicking. Because the only thing she excelled was sex and if she couldn’t satisfy you anymore, then what did she have to offer?
“Not everyone acts like a horny teenager, Romanoff” you scoffed and she grabbed your hips before you could walk out of your building. You smacked her hands but her grip only tightened “What is it with you today? You are extra needy”
“It’s been days since we last fucked” she whispered in your ear and you held back a whimper “Three days to be exact. So the real question is… what is it with you?”
It was true and you knew it had everything to do with your unforgiving mind. You were turned on, needy and you missed having Natasha that close. But your mind wasn’t cooperating that much. You would be making out, your hips would be grinding against her lap and then that awful voice in your mind would ruin everything for you.
“I’m on my period” you replied and broke yourself free from her grip. Ignoring Natasha’s questioning look as you started to warm up “If you don’t want to run, you could simply go back to sleep”
You really didn’t want to have that conversation with your girlfriend that day, because not only you were lying about your period, it was late and you were trying not to think about it.
It felt as though the universe wanted to destroy your happy bubble with everything it got. Insecurities ruining you at nights and now you would face a bigger problem if you didn’t start menstruating in the next two days. If you were pregnant and you really didn’t want to be, Natasha would probably leave you.
You were the one that proposed to forget about condoms, the one that always wanted her to cum inside of you with the excuse of being on the pill as if you didn’t know it could fail. If you were pregnant, it would be your fault mainly.
This was too much for you. So running would be the thing to clear your mind.
“No, it’s okay” Natasha mumbled, frowning as she warmed up.
You were too caught up in your own mind that you were forgetting that you actually had a girlfriend that had insecurities of her own, that felt and doubted herself constantly too. While you were keeping your distance because of your own mind, Natasha thought you were losing interest in her.
Domesticity and complicity started to feel like a curse.
Of course Natasha loved your now practiced dance, the one that balanced your sex drive, your date nights that now not always ended with you in between the sheets and you did more things together like buying groceries, attending social events as a couple and your lives slowly merging.
But what if that was the thing killing your spark? What if you were getting bored of it? Would you leave her for someone that could bring the rush back into your life?
As always, your stubborn asses decided to deal with all those feelings by yourselves instead of actually talking. Because if you did, you both would realise that you felt the same way which meant, you both really loved each other and just had to talk.
Humans apparently had a fascination of making things harder for themselves
Natasha kept jogging behind you, trying not to overthink and turning the volume of her music up. But apparently, nothing could muffle her own thoughts. She revisited every small thing that happened during the last few days and couldn’t find anything that gave her some light about what was going on in your mind.
Her eyes focused on the pavement, her skin flushed and sweat starting to roll down her forehead as she tried to focus on her own breathing. Natasha needed to believe it was just a bad day. Everyone had bad days, right? She just needed to trust you and wait patiently.
When Natasha looked up, you were no longing running. Instead, you were talking to no other but Steve Rogers himself.
That set her back. Of course it did. The last time you actually talked to Steve was the night of your awful date. After that, Steve tried to apologise multiple times and you ignored him until he got the message. And when you started dating Natasha, he cut the redhead off because he felt betrayed.
So for once, your girlfriend didn’t know how to feel about it.
Some part of her missed Steve. Before you, before everything, they were really good friends. But when she thought about someone else liking you the way she did, made her blood boil. She decided to take a couple of minutes before rushing to your side, taking off her headphones and feeling the air against her hot skin.
A thought rushed in. What if you were done with her jealousy? Natasha was never the one to fight with you about it. No, she needed to fuck you as if that would leave traces of herself all over your skin. But what if that was getting too much? What if she was too much?
You were always so composed, so sure of Natasha’s love that you never were that jealous around her. The only time she saw you jealous was the week before your first date. After that, you seemed to never pay attention. But her? Natasha lost her mind every single time.
When she noticed Steve’s hand squeezing your shoulder gently, she made up her mind. Approaching you with a few strides, blue eyes finding hers soon enough and making him take a step back as her cologne filled your lungs. Natasha failed to notice Steve’s endearing smile as her nostrils flared.
“Rogers” she tried to sound calmed, but her body was almost vibrating behind you as she placed her hands over your hips.
“Natasha, I was just asking about you” he offered softly, giving her a moment to settle as she pulled you closer.
When Steve first heard you two were dating, he couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t sure which part sounded more ridiculous: Natasha getting into monogamy or you retiring from your single life. He wasn’t the only one that wondered how you two got into what seemed at first like a mess.
He stopped talking to the redhead out of rage, that was true. Now, he wasn’t so proud of his poor decision making. After all, you both were his friends once and he ruined everything because his own ego couldn’t take getting rejected by you or the fact that no other but Natasha managed to get you.
Now that he was seeing you both together with his own eyes, somehow, it made sense.
Maybe it was the way you leaned closer to her. Maybe it was how Natasha seemed so protective around you. Or maybe it was how cute you looked together. But Steve now saw it. You were meant to be.
“Apparently, Peggy Carter lives close by” you said softly over your shoulder, as your hand caressed softly hers to soothe her nerves “And he was inviting us to his party next week to make amends”
Steve hummed and nodded, folding his arms on his back as Natasha’s eyes assessed him. The redhead was trying to decide how much of a threat he was, but when your hand went up to caress her cheek she even forgot how to breathe.
You always knew what to do to make her feel safe.
“Sure, we will be there” Natasha finally said, nodding and then kissing your temple softly “Unless you don’t want to”
“We can do a party” you smiled, looking up and brushing your nose against her jawline “We’ve been behaving like grown ups all summer” you chuckled and Natasha hummed, smirking when she noticed Steve shifting nervously.
You both were now used to affectionate displays that you forgot Steve once liked you that way. But even if you didn’t, you wouldn’t try to hide your love. Maybe it wasn’t your best moment, but the love you had for your girlfriend was only growing. And Natasha’s chest always puffed out with pride knowing you were still hers.
“Then I’ll see you both next week” Steve said softly and you both saw the moment he hesitated, deciding if he was still able to touch you or not, deciding not to push Natasha’s buttons “Hope we can talk some more”
You watched him walk away and you turned to face your girlfriend. When green eyes found yours, they twinkled with devotion but slightly darkened. It was as though you could hear what she was already thinking and you bit your lip nervously, because you wanted to give it to her. Yet, your mind had you stuck in the same place.
“We should head back to the apartment” Natasha purred, leaning closer and brushing her nose against yours “I miss being inside you”
“Is that all you like to do with me?” you asked and the redhead furrowed her brows.
“What? No” your girlfriend rushed to say as you ducked your head and she cradled your face “We don’t have to, princess. But I do need you close”
Your lower lip trembled and you weren’t so sure as to why you were so sensitive lately. You always thought of yourself as a strong and independent woman, lacking to see that vulnerability made you even more perfect. Naturally, you hated feeling that way because all you could think about was Natasha getting tired of your clinginess and your sensitivity.
However, the redhead could only think that she made a mistake. She made you feel like an object for her pleasure only when all she really wanted was to hold you close, feel your skin under her touch and make sure you smell like her.
It was unreal the way Natasha needed the world to know you were hers but mostly, that she was yours. She felt silly and even a little toxic when it came to it but she couldn’t help herself.
Life before you now felt like a blur. She never realised that her life lacked colour until you came around and everything shined.
So every fear and every dark thought only pushed her to keep you close. In her eyes, you were too precious to lose and if she ever did, she wouldn’t survive either.
In the middle of her solitude, she sometimes wondered if loving someone this much was even normal. Her lack of experience with relationships made her feel like maybe she was rushing you both into a place that maybe you didn’t want. It was a constant conflict where she always lost the fight because…
Why would she stop if she felt so good around you?
Her hand moved down and her fingers intertwined with yours, giving you a gentle squeeze as you looked up to meet her gaze once again. Your heart melted when her eyes filled with tears but her lips curved with a soft smile.
“I love you so much, princess” she whispered and you caressed her cheek “I’m sorry, we don’t have to fuck but I need you”
“You just want to mark your territory” you murmured as she pressed her forehead against yours and she giggled with tears rolling down her cheeks “I love you too, my love”
“Say that again” Natasha breathed and she closed her eyes.
“I love you” you mumbled, your free hand caressing her cheek as the other held on tight to hers “I love you. I really do”
“Again”
“I love you, Natasha Romanoff”
“I love you more”
(—)
You broke into a cold sweat as you stared at three different sticks that apparently held all your future for the next few minutes.
You weren’t even sure how you managed to get past Natasha’s prying eyes after coming back with your bag full of pregnancy tests. Yet, you were locked in your bathroom and biting your nails nervously.
There had to be a logical explanation as to why you were so late and pregnancy couldn’t be it. You loved Natasha but your relationship was still new for a baby, you had plans and dreams before even thinking about a child.
You couldn’t even handle yourself lately.
Now, you were praying to any god out there that whatever that was going on with your body wasn’t a baby growing inside of you because that would open a very uncomfortable talk with your girlfriend.
There were things in a relationship that were worth talking about when the time was right. But what if Natasha wasn’t the type of woman you thought? What if she wanted to keep the child and you didn’t? What if she left you alone?
Every bad scenario ran through your mind as you kept staring at the stick. Your insides growling and your knees bending as they grew weak with panic.
You fell into the floor, pulling the toilet lid open and throwing up desperately. What if that was a sign that you were in fact pregnant? No! It couldn’t be, it was only the nerves.
Your mind decided to go down an irrational path, though. Your legs shaking as one hand pulled your hair and the other tried to hold onto the toilet for dear life. And you were about to cry.
Over the last few days, everything seemed to be crumbling around you. It was unfair the way you felt your relationship was slipping through your fingers after one single comment from your mother.
The side of you that always wanted to fight back was almost extinct at this point. You could feel the way it was drifting away from you, your thoughts getting more and more destructive with each minute that it passed. And the worst part was noticing that your girlfriend was also getting away from you.
It was your fault, though. You knew as much.
The more you tried to control your feelings, the more you pushed Natasha away and the more she panicked about it. The two of you entered in this cycle where you both tried to hang on but refused to talk openly because you both had the same thought.
What if everything was in your imagination?
You didn’t want to bring your emotional drama into the equation and Natasha didn’t want to bring up the fact that she felt alone in the middle of the unknown storm. Both thinking you would come out as needy or clingy or even toxic if you dared to speak up.
It wasn’t really your fault. Your mothers never taught any of you how to speak up when things got out of hand, you both were raised to do it on your own and now that you had someone you truly cared about, you were afraid the other would go.
Because everyone else did in the past.
A knock on your door startled you. You flushed the toilet, your hands starting to move on their own as you hid the sticks in the paper bag and started to brush your teeth.
“Princess? Are you okay in there?”
Natasha had been waiting for you since you came back. She noticed the way you avoided her gaze, the rush in your legs and she even heard the second you locked the door. And she truly didn’t want to overthink your unusual behaviour but lately, you had been acting weird.
“What? Yes” you said out loud, now cleaning your face with fresh water as the heat spread all over your cheeks “What’s up?”
You unlocked the door but blocked Natasha from coming in, glancing one last time to the paper bag as if it would call you out any minute now.
Your girlfriend furrowed her brows, noticing the tiny droplets of water over your perfect skin. You raised a brow and she cleared her throat, feeling uneasy all of a sudden as she scratched the back of her neck.
“Your brother is here” Natasha announced, shifting nervously before you as you frowned “Do you want me to get rid of him?”
You and Alexander hadn’t talked since he went to the Italy trip with your mother. To be fair, your brother tried to reach out but your pride was something hard to fight against.
And for a whole month you complained about him until you got tired of it, moving on to the phase where you pretended he didn’t exist.
That day, Alexander was your saviour.
“No, no” you rushed to reply and Natasha tilted her head slightly to the side and you swallowed nervously “Give me a minute, I’ll be there with you”
You started to close the door but you jolted as her hand landed on the wood and you looked at her with flushed cheeks.
Any other moment, Natasha being so imposing and looking in control would turn you on in an instant. But right then and there, you turned pale in front of her as you bit your lip nervously.
“Are you sure you are okay?” Natasha insisted, stepping closer as you tried to push back “Princess, what’s going on?”
“I’m fine, my love” you murmured, your chest tightening and the lie leaving a bitter taste on the tip of your tongue “I just need a moment”
It felt terribly wrong lying to your girlfriend, deep inside the truth was threatening to claw out of your throat. But you couldn’t, not yet.
On the other hand, Natasha’s pulse spiked as she tried to figure out what was going on. The redhead was losing it, feeling the way you were so far away now when you used to be so close.
Yet, she needed to keep trying.
“Okay” she nodded and licked her lips nervously “I love you. You know that, right?”
The fear on her voice made your heart dropped. You needed to find a way out of your own mind before you lost your girlfriend.
“I love you too, my love” you said softly, your eyes twinkling with love that soothe slightly Natasha’s nerves.
Natasha hesitated for a second, her heart still asking her to stay with you, to talk and figure everything out but what if everything was part of her imagination and her unforgiving mind?
She closed the door and you inhaled sharply, your ribcage hurting from the tension as you tried to regulate your breathing.
The constant pull in your mind was exhausting. The conflict running over and over again around, haunting you and pushing you further into the dark.
You grabbed the paper bag and got out of the bathroom, a relieved sigh leaving your lips when you noticed your girlfriend wasn’t around as you took one of your bigger bags and hid the paper one inside.
Whatever the result was, it could wait.
You rushed outside your bedroom, just to find Alexander and Natasha chatting. Suddenly, your hands were clammy and your knees where slightly trembling.
“Alec” you called, avoiding once again your girlfriend’s eyes and focusing on your brother “What are you doing here?”
Your brother squirmed nervously under your gaze, unaware of your own flustered state and Natasha’s attempts on gaining your attention that kept you on spot and unable to break eye contact with him.
Alexander, in many ways, was bigger than you. However, your gaze never failed to make him shrink and feel small specially when he knew you could shut him down at the first mistake.
Truth to be told, your brother missed you and he had to look for any excuse to see you but mostly, force you to see him. Because sometimes you could be as stubborn as your mother and the only way to get back on track was confronting the situation.
During the last few weeks, he also kept listening to his mother vent in different occasions about you, your relationship and even found out about the fight through her.
More than once, both of you had managed to keep him in between your fighting. And as much as you believed Alexander was always in favour of your mother, he understood you both to some extent.
However, it had been a long time since you last confided in him when it came to your mother. Not only were you trying to keep him away from the uncomfortable feeling of being in the middle, you also thought it was useless.
Things with your mother were a constant war. More than you would like to admit, you had found yourself saying the same thing to each other and refusing to back down from the yelling. And in the middle of your silence, you always wondered.
Was your mother really that bad? Or were you always on survival mode that your first instinct was to react?
If you were honest with yourself, you couldn’t even see the difference between your mother trying to be good and your mother being bluntly rude. The line was already blurred for you and even if you tried, you wouldn’t be able to tell.
For Alexander was so easy, but he faced the same things in a less aggressive manner with your father. If he tried to walk you through it, you would probably kill him and between you and your mother, you were the one that would listen the most.
Yet, he wasn’t there to fix your issues with your mother. He was there to fix your issues with him. After spending a lot of time thinking how he would face you without starting a conflict.
Luckily for him, in that moment, he was the least of your problems.
“I came to check on your car, as always” Alec said softly, scratching the back of his neck and you furrowed your brows “Before I take it for service”
You hummed and nodded, your fingers digging into the bag between your hands as though it was heavy.
“You don’t do it yourself?” Natasha asked, forcing you to look at her and you offered her a small smile.
“Do I look like I know how to do it?” you teased her, setting some normalcy between you two and she grinned “In that case, we will be right back”
“I can go with you” the redhead said before even registering her words, gaining a grateful gaze from Alec but you shook your head.
“I think Alexander and I need to talk privately” you replied, an apologetic smile on your lips as Natasha nodded with defeat “See you at the party, my love”
“You will take that long?” your girlfriend asked confused and you pursed your lips, nodding and she sighed “Yeah, I’ll see you there”
You signalled Alexander to follow you, the big man moving clumsily as he tried to keep up with you and soon you both were on the elevator.
The bag was clung to your body and your mind was loud as a very uncomfortable silence stretched between you and your brother.
Your fingers twitched over the bag, trying to decide if it was a good idea checking it out with Alexander standing so close to you and your ears started ringing.
You jolted when Alec placed his hand on your lower back to guide you out of the elevator. Your cheeks blushed as you walked out of the metal box, stopping outside the glass doors and into the parking lot just to find the big trashcan.
“What are you doing?” Alexander asked as you opened your bag and pulled out the paper one and threw it away “What was that?”
“None of your business” you grunted, walking towards your parking spot as Alexander furrowed his brows but followed you “We should take a ride to the studio”
Your brother only hummed and jumped inside. You started the car and let the music fill the silence, deciding to ignore the anxious bounce of Alexander’s leg as he looked outside the window.
There was a time, Alexander and the twins would’ve been the first people to know whatever that was going in your mind. Then, Natasha was added to the equation and she became your person. Now, you felt alone and trapped in your own mind.
It had been so long since you’ve been this alone with your own thoughts, feeling the knot in your throat and the loud voice that kept you from telling anyone so you could come back to reality.
With your brother sitting next to you, that same desire kept getting louder. Your ears were burning and your fingers curled tighter around the steering wheel. Because you wanted to scream that you needed help, that it was getting over your head and it was burying you in a dark hole.
But when you thought you could, feeling the words thrumming in your chest and your tongue threatening to roll out, that same voice reminded you that you would sound ridiculous, that you created that problem by not letting go of dear mother.
Finally when you arrived to the studio, you almost rushed inside. Alexander followed you, still trying to figure out your unusual behaviour and deciding your car could wait.
He knew you so well and yet, he couldn’t pinpoint what was going on with you. So once he reached the studio level and found you with your head buried inside the fridge, he knew something was really off.
“Want a beer?” you asked over your shoulder and he shrugged, you took out two bottles and gave one to him after you opened it “So, did your mother send you?”
Alexander tilted his head slightly to the side, watching you take a gulp of the beer and taking note on the way you anxiously moved around.
He sighed loudly as you sat on the small sofa and he plopped over one of the puffs.
“No. I missed you” he admitted, heat spreading over his cheeks as you scrutinised him “I heard about the fight too”
You hummed “I assume your mother told you” he nodded and you popped your lips “Well, of course I got into a fight with Victor. You missed your opportunity to kick his ass”
“Is it true, though? That you and Wanda…” you started coughing because you didn’t know your mother knew that much but he rushed “That was Pietro, mother doesn’t know”
It took you a few moments to stop coughing, your cheeks flushing as you avoided his gaze because Pietro had a big mouth and the reason you didn’t want your brother to know about it was his big crush on your best friend.
“We… well, it was a long time ago and I swear…” this couldn’t be happening, you swore the universe was now committed to make your life crumble around you “Alec, we just…”
Your brother caught the nervousness and worry in your voice, so he jumped out of the puff and knelt before you with his hand carefully placed over your knee.
“Hey, I’m not mad or anything” he said softly as your lower lip trembled “But I love gossip, you know this”
A choked giggle left your lips and for the first time in a very long time, Alexander felt like he could breathe properly.
He truly missed you. Yeah, he had his own best friends that awfully had crushes on you and always called him brother in law, but you were his partner in crime.
And the silence that you offered him hurt more than words could say, even if he was as upset as you were in the beginning.
So when your eyes twinkled with the same amount of love he was offering, he knew that he was one step closer to getting on your good side again.
On your end, your brother was anchoring you and muffling your mind a little. You were now trying to decide if talking things out with him was a good idea, though, because you two were too stubborn to back down from your points and that would probably lead to another fight.
“Yes, it happened” you finally said and you bit your lip “But it didn’t work”
“I figured that part out” he smiled and took a sip “Why don’t you tell me about the rest of your summer?”
That almost erased the smile on your face because your summer was a living hell in your mind. However, you clung onto the good parts as you prayed that they were enough to soothe the storm.
The universe had other plans for you, though.
(—)
The music was loud but not enough to drown Natasha’s thoughts.
Her friends were catching up about summer and she replied to all of their questions, she even laughed it off when they asked if you already broke up with her since you weren’t clung to her side.
And she texted you, repeatedly but all she got in return were short messages about you still hanging with Alexander.
Her finger was tapping anxiously the red cup in her hand, trying to play cool around her friends before they fingered out that, in fact, the redhead was having separation anxiety without you around.
It wasn’t as though the things were wrong between you two, but something was certainly off and it was stressing her out not being able to figure it out.
Maybe if she drank a lot that night, she would find the courage to have the uncomfortable talk before everything got out of hand.
Clint was telling her something about the summer with Laura’s parents, gaining a teasing smirk from his best friend that even in the middle of her storm found a way to mock him for being in a very serious relationship.
Naturally, that fired back because maybe Clint was a simp but the one that was basically chained and owned was no other but the infamous ex fuck girl.
It felt as if that part of her life happened so long ago, a nightmare that had written loneliness all over it. But she started waking up from it in that same house almost a year ago.
Natasha remembered how focused she was on getting in your pants that she made the effort to flirt with you. The fight by the tree where you both managed to read each other way too fast, words that were sharp as knives and a heated kiss that set a spell on her.
Sex after that night in your car was never the same. Everyone was so boring for her but whenever she fought with you, her skin tingled and her senses were heightened.
Natasha could almost remember each and every time you fucked after that. She was so stupid for thinking that was the proper way to get you out of her system when all she did was getting more and more addicted.
Now, the bickering kept going. Your girlfriend had a talent of getting on your nerves but somehow it never got out of hand. It was your version of foreplay to say the least. Well, anything was because the redhead was obsessed with you.
Not for the first time, Natasha wondered if that was even healthy. The way you were now all over her skin, her thoughts, her needs and dreams. Meaningless sex was nothing next to the passionate one you both always had — even if the last few days you had been avoiding sex.
She finished her drink, desperately needing for you to arrive and finally talk things out. And just like clockwork, your perfume filled the air mixing with the smell of cheap beer and sweat but what she noticed was that there was something different about the way your perfume smelled.
Not that she was a professional, but Natasha now had the ability to notice every scent of your perfumes and there was something about the way it mixed with your ph that made it so you.
That was the thing that was missing. You.
She turned around when she felt the tap on her shoulder, finding a brunette that looked terribly familiar even if Natasha couldn’t remember her name.
“Hey there, Natasha” she greeted her and the redhead smiled politely, trying to remember where she had seen the girl “You don’t remember me”
Blush spread over Natasha’s cheeks as she cleared her throat and shook her head, unaware of the way the brunette’s eyes were roaming her body hungrily.
“No, I mean yes” Natasha tried but she was failing miserably, the brunette tilted her head wearing an amused smile “Fine, I don’t. I’m sorry”
She laughed and placed a hand over Natasha’s shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze as her eyes wandered around the room in search for you. Her smile grew bigger when she noticed you weren’t anywhere close.
“I’m Sarah, the girl you left high and dry so you could help your little sister?” she offered and Natasha’s eyes widened at that memory.
That was the night she was so mad because you ruined her enough that her dick wasn’t getting hard. The same night you both started your journey as fuck buddies, ending up having sex all night in your bed until you both passed out.
Natasha scratched the back of her neck nervously, not sure of what to say nor what Sarah wanted from her.
“Right, sorry about that” she breathed out, green eyes looking around and seeking some type of help from anyone because she didn’t want to seem rude “Well, I hope you are having a good time…”
“You are not leaving me all alone, are you?” her hand wrapped around Natasha’s forearm and she bit her lower lip when the redhead’s biceps flexed “My friends are not here yet and you are the only familiar face”
Natasha held back a groan and forced herself to smile and nod. It wasn’t like she was doing something wrong. If anything, she was being polite and friendly because now she was capable of doing just that around women that she found attractive. But her current situation wasn’t helping at all.
“Just, let me get a new drink” Natasha said softly and Sarah licked her lips, checking her out and then going back to meet green eyes as a soft blush spread over the redhead’s cheeks.
“I’ll go with you. I’m in need of one too”
Both walked around the house and into the kitchen. Sarah was trying to make small talk but Natasha was barely there, more worried about you coming in and reading the interaction the wrong way.
You never made a big fuss about things. You never got jealous. But Natasha feared that you would break up with her at the bare minimum now because the usual closeness between you two wasn’t totally there.
What if you were looking for excuses to leave her? What if that was the perfect excuse and she was giving it to you?
No, Natasha needed to believe it was all in her head and she was going to talk about it with you once she gathered all the courage she needed.
Sarah handed her the red cup and Natasha nodded, eyes focused on the brunette before her but her mind counting down the minutes for your arrival.
The redhead remained unaware of the studying gaze of the brunette as she took a big gulp of her drink. Natasha was trying to keep up with the conversation despite being half listening.
After a few minutes of talking and downing most of her drink, her skin started to burn. She blinked a few times, tugging her shirt as if it was suffocating her. Her mouth felt dry and she finished her drink desperately.
“Are you okay, Natasha?” Sarah asked, tilting her head slightly to the side as the redhead grunted.
“Yeah, yeah. I think I just need air” Natasha replied, her legs starting to move on their own as she nudged people to open some space.
There was a slight feeling of drowsiness that ran down her body, her face tingling as she started to sweat. The night wasn’t cold enough for the heat that spread all over her body and she pulled up half of her tee to wipe the sweat rolling down her forehead.
“God, you are hot” Natasha turned around, the tee still covering half her face and leaving her abdomen exposed as she met Sarah’s eyes “I was just trying to check on you”
“Thank you. You are hot too” at that the redhead dropped her tee with her face fully red “God, I’m so sorry I didn’t-“
A finger landed on her lips as Sarah took a step closer to her, hungry blue eyes looking at Natasha as though she was a piece of meat. And the redhead growled, trying to comprehend what was happening to her.
“I think you did” Sarah smiled triumphantly, her finger moving down and tracing a line over Natasha’s tee and stopping at the belt hoops of the redhead’s jeans with her eyes focused on her movements “It’s okay, I think we have some…” she smiled noticing the bulge on Natasha’s jeans and looked up “unfinished business”
“I can’t- I- I have a girlfriend” the redhead stammered but her feet seemed to grow roots on spot.
“She doesn’t have to know, Nat” Sarah’s voice dropped lower, her face getting dangerously close to Natasha’s “I bet I can fuck you better than she does”
Your girlfriend was panicking. Internally, she was yelling at her body to move or — worst case scenario — pushed that bitch off. But it wasn’t working, her body was reacting at the minimum touch and she could feel her cock throbbing.
“It’s not like we have fucked recently” the redhead admitted, green eyes widening at the admission as her ears reddened “Why am I saying this?”
“She doesn’t even take care of you?” Sarah ignored her last question and one of her hands landed on Natasha’s bulge, giving a squeeze and gaining a whimper from the redhead “I was so sad when I heard you retired from fucking around. You deserve someone that matches your sex drive”
Natasha wanted to defend you because in all honesty you even outmatched her sex drive at times and you were the best sex she had ever had.
Yet, her tongue kept rolling out and complaining about how unattended you had left her over the last week as Sarah’s hand rubbed over her clothed cock.
The world around started to become a blur, her senses numbed as she felt the way she was getting close to come as her mind pictured you. Because even in that state, you were the only one that could truly get her off even if she had someone else’s hand over her.
And when Sarah got tired of listening Natasha talk about you, she kissed the redhead to shut her up. People around the two started taking pictures, people that knew you and now wondered if you two broke up over the summer.
The worst part was that Natasha was fighting internally to push her off, screaming that this was wrong as she moaned against Sarah’s lips and spilling inside her boxer.
The brunette broke the kiss, a smirk spreading over her face as the pictures kept coming and Natasha cursed under her breath. She needed to find you before a picture arrived to you phone, before you heard rumours, she needed to find a way to fix this before…
When she finally managed to turn around, her face was met by a hand that she knew too well. Awfully well. But that apparently was slightly enough to make her feel more like herself, the numbness still running up and down her skin.
However, green eyes found yours. Your lower lip was trembling and your eyes were filled with tears that you clearly were holding back as Pietro held you before you jumped on Natasha and killed her on spot.
The redhead’s lips parted and her heart broke when she no longer saw the familiar twinkle in your eyes, they weren’t full of love and devotion. In fact, you had never looked at her like that during all the time she had known you.
As though you hated her. Truly hated her.
“Princess, I…”
You raised a hand and Natasha tired to ignore the glares from the twins. Your glare was more than enough to make her heart sink and honestly, it was the only one that mattered.
“You have one fucking chance” you snarled, blinking away the tears as your breathing got heavy “Just one”
Natasha could’ve just said the truth, that she wasn’t so sure herself of what was happening nor how she ended up in that position when in reality all she wanted and needed was you.
But there was something that was acting faster than her own mind and that was still her tongue. By then, Natasha had told you the most stupid things at the worst moments.
That night, she outdid herself.
“Well, we aren’t having sex and I don’t know, I just…”
She wouldn’t blame you if you killed her right then and there. In fact, the next slap felt merciful compared to what she deserved.
Natasha turned in time to catch a tear rolling down your cheek as you wiped it away. And she tried to get closer, to ask for forgiveness even when she didn’t deserve it but this time, Wanda was the one to push her off before she could close the gap.
“Sex. Of course this is about that” you managed to say angrily, your voice not half as broken as your own heart. Your eyes looked down and noticed the wet patch on her jeans and you scoffed “Well, seems like your cheap whore is really giving it to you”
“Hey, I’m not a cheap whore” Sarah defended herself behind Natasha but backed down when your eyes met hers.
“I don’t recall talking to you” you spat and looked back at Natasha “In that case, let me get out of your way so you can have…” your eyes scanned her body and finally the redhead felt the second you disconnected completely from her “sex”
You turned around and started to walk away, the twins following you and begging you to take a moment. Natasha looked around and growled at the prying eyes as she started going after you.
Her mind was still confused, she felt slow and barely conscious but her need to fight for you felt stronger. This was a misunderstanding, she wasn’t so sure of how she was going to prove it to you but she would find a way. She had to.
“Princess, please” she yelled and you stopped on your tracks. Pietro shook his head and Wanda turned to look at Natasha.
“Go away, Romanoff” your best friend growled and for the first time, Natasha noticed how awfully intimidating Wanda really could be but she didn’t care.
“I’m not talking to you, Wanda” Natasha snarled and at that, you turned around with fury igniting within you “Please, hear me out”
Pietro held you close and Wanda’s hand moved to grab yours protectively. They witnessed everything along with you, there wasn’t much Natasha could say to save her from the inevitable break up.
And your thoughts were loud as your heart kept hammering against your ribcage with tears prickling in your eyes.
Some part of you believed that this was your fault. Your own mind kept you away from your girlfriend and what she needed, that maybe if you got over yourself faster, Natasha wouldn’t have sought relief in someone else’s hands.
Yet, she was responsible for her own decisions and actions and you had every right to be angry. Because now it wasn’t about your fears, it was that they came true and she broke your heart.
“I don’t have to listen to you now nor ever” you hissed, breaking yourself free from the twins and walking up to Natasha “We are over”
“Princess, please” Natasha grabbed your hands and you hated the way your body relaxed under her touch “I- I didn’t mean to say that” her lower lip trembled and you growled as you felt the way your heart broke even more “I don’t know what happened, I’m not sure…”
“You don’t know?” you snorted and licked your lips “My mother was right” the words felt like venom, a harsh truth that even made the twins flinched “People like you get tired of people like me. I was just a disposable toy”
Natasha’s heart sunk even more, her lip trembling as her fingers twitched around your hand that soon you snatched away. This had to be a nightmare, she couldn’t be losing you this fast.
“You don’t mean that” the redhead swallowed and tried to grab you again but you stepped back “Princess…”
“Don’t call me that” you cut her off and your nostrils flared, unclasping the bracelet she gave you and you threw it to her “Go with your whore and leave me alone” you turned around and looked at the twins “I need to be alone”
The three of them watched you walked away and jumped into your car. The twins shared a look as Natasha’s eyes were glued to your car, watching you leave along with her hopes and dreams, with her heart following you.
Finally, she looked down finding the bracelet with the little crown and the motorbike. Her head felt dizzy as she fell onto her knees, the twins watching her as Natasha’s sight turned blurry.
The redhead wasn’t sure anymore of what was happening, the numbness coming back as tears streamed down her cheeks.
The last thing she remembered was the voice of Pietro calling her name as she collapsed against the sidewalk.
The bracelet kept safely between her hand and your voice resonating in her mind.
‘Leave me alone’
(—)
Alexander was taking a shower when the call came in.
At first, he didn’t pay attention but his phone kept ringing insistingly, he furrowed his brows and picked up just to feel the second his heart dropped.
He changed his clothes as he dictated a message for the twins and Natasha, not even paying attention when he picked different socks or that his sneakers were mismatched.
His body was now on autopilot and his mind was shut down as he drove as fast as he could through the city streets. He jolted when his phone rang again during a stop light and frowned even more when he saw his grandmother’s name on the small screen of the car.
“Nan” he greeted, surprising himself of even being able to talk “I assume you heard”
“Alexander, dear” she said softly and his fingers twitched around the steering wheel “I did and I need you to do me a favor” Alec hummed, his voice leaving him again as he drove again “First, don’t tell your mother we talked” she pointed out and Alec rolled his eyes as he huffed “I’m very serious, Alexander. Keep me updated on your sister’s condition and I want every detail of the accident”
Alexander growled, parking a block away from the hospital and disconnecting his phone from the car and getting out with his grandmother still giving him instructions.
“Is this relevant right now?” he grunted, bumping into people as he made his way through the lobby and finding his mother there “Nan, I’m here I need to…”
“Alexander, please keep me updated and do not tell your mother I know or that we talked” she insisted.
“Fine. Yeah, whatever” he sighed again and closed his eyes for a second “Love you, nan. See you when you come back to the city”
He hung up, jumping when he felt a hand on his shoulder just to find his father with glazed eyes and shaking hands that mirrored his.
Both took a deep breath before approaching his mother that kept talking with a doctor and looked awfully calmed despite the circumstances.
Nothing was making any sense because you were supposed to be at a party with your friends and girlfriend. Yet, Alexander was there knowing you were in a car accident instead of being safe.
The doctor left the second both reached your mother, the woman tapped anxiously the side of her phone as she stared at the floor.
“Mom, what happened?” Alex asked softly, trying not to scare her and failed.
“She- she had a car accident, her brakes failed or something” your mother mumbled, taking a deep breath as she met Alexander’s confused eyes “Just broken ribs, she’s fine but…” her eyes landed on your father “We have to send her to the Phoenix Center”
“What?!” both men chorused.
The cruel reality settled down over the three of them. One they all had been ignoring and couldn’t anymore because apparently an accident had to happen for them to face it.
Your family was well aware of your eating habits and they all made up excuses as to why you always looked so skinny or your obsessions around your rituals when eating.
You had to keep in good form, that’s what your father told himself instead of believing there was something deeper about it. You loved looking good in any type of clothes, or that’s what you told Alexander that one time he pointed it out and you refused to talk more.
But your mother, she knew exactly what was happening and decided to ignore it because you learned from her own obsession with her weight. A part of her knew she was the responsible one but refused to admitted, deciding to play with the same amount of shame your father and brother had written all over their faces.
“Are we sure she needs it?” your father insisted and Alexander glared at him because they all could’ve done something sooner instead of playing dumb.
“Are we really discussing that right now?” he growled, ignoring the warning look from his mother and focusing on his father “We will do whatever it takes”
“The doctor said she is highly underweight” your mother whispered, a certain redhead getting on her sight followed by the twins “I think we can go to her room now, go ahead. I need to take care of something first”
Alexander furrowed his brows once again, noticing the change in his mother’s voice that reminded him of the nature of the car accident.
He checked your car that same day, it was in a perfect condition so your brakes couldn’t have failed. And he remembered his grandmother’s request.
So he nodded and his father followed to find out the number of your room.
The twins and Natasha approached your mother, forgetting for a moment they all hated the woman with their guts as she looked up with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Wanda, Pietro” she greeted with a broken voice, ignoring Natasha “I’m so glad you are here, she will need you guys” they both nodded, worry written all over her faces as well as Natasha shifted nervously behind them “Go with Alec, he will fill you in”
The twins nodded again and started to walk away to join your father and brother. But the moment Natasha tried to follow them, your mother’s hand landed on her arm to stop her.
“Ms (Y/L/N)” the redhead said almost defeated, the night kept getting worse by the second.
Natasha woke up after passing out an hour later. Her head hurting and her hand holding tightly the bracelet in her hand. She felt more like herself in that moment and rage took over within minutes just to face the culprit of her misfortune.
And after almost losing control with Sarah, she found out that in fact, the brunette drugged her with some type of truth serum that inhibited most of her senses.
Before she could even demand her to go with her and make her explain it to you, her phone buzzed with the most heartbreaking message from Alexander. Not even the twins found in themselves stopping Natasha from joining them on their ride to the hospital.
“You are not welcomed here, Ms Romanoff” your mother said harshly and Natasha furrowed her brows “Did you know she was pregnant?”
Natasha lost all color at those words. You both had talked about it once, deciding that none of you were ready for a child and it was better if you waited.
But if you were pregnant, you would had told her right?
“She- No, she wasn’t… We…”
“You were careful?” your mother snorted and glared at her “She had a miscarriage in the accident. So now I will have to tell my daughter that not only her dancing career will have to wait” her grip tightened around Natasha’s arm “But she also lost her baby”
Natasha watched her walked away or at least that was what it seemed because in reality her mind kept repeating your mother’s words.
You were pregnant and you lost the baby.
Natasha’s baby.
And she also lost you in the process.
If only you both knew that this time the universe had nothing to do with the latest events. Or the fact that a lie was told that night.
Because somewhere in those hospital hallways, your mother was wiping her tears away and pulling out a burner phone to make the last transfer.
She was your mother, after all. And she was done letting you play house with a woman that would do nothing but good to you. You needed someone that truly took care of you and your father proved to be useless on that matter.
It was funny how history always repeated itself, though. Because this wasn’t the first car accident in the Crawford family.
TW: Unprotected sex, morning sickness (vomit), missed period, (that's all, I believe)
Shield agent wife
GP Nat
You and your wife, Natasha, had been on the run for a while. As a shield agent, it was kind of unorthodox when you followed your 'fugitive' wife. After the Sovokia Records, all hell broke loose, and the Avengers had split with Ross trying to get them in jail.
After everything that went down with the accords, you and Natasha decided it would be best if you two went on a run, as she was a fugitive and you, a Shield agent, helping a fugitive escape... yeah, you were now on the list too.
That's all that you could do. Run.
___________________________________________
Time had passed, and you and your wife were now living in a secluded trailer near the woods in Norweigh. Quiet, peaceful... Just the two of you. Finally. With all the worry and fear going on of you two getting caught any day, keeping surveillance, keeping tabs on Ross and his team. Things were getting exhausting, your wife and you barely had time for certain activities as you were always so focused on tracking Ross and the other Avengers like Steve.
You're laying on your shared bed as you read a novel, soft music playing in the background when you heard the trailer door open.
Natasha had just come inside, sweaty and panting from chopping wood outside in the hot Sun. "You look like... you've been busy," you teasingly say as you watch Natasha gulp down her water.
Water droplets trailing down her neck and disappearing into her tank top. "Busy sweating my ass off," The redhead smirks as she rasped back at you. She slowly made her way to you, planting fists on either sides of your thighs, "it's hot as hell out there."
You make a sound of agreement, "I can imagine. You look like you've been swimming in your own sweat." The Russian cringes, shaking her head with a small laugh.
"Ew, Tasha, you're getting all your sweat droplets on me," You feign disgust as you feel little water droplets touch your skin as they fall from her forehead as she looms over your body. "You're dramatic, you know that?" She chuckled, kissing your forehead, "You've literally been shot at. And you're calling a little bit of my sweat disgusting?" You give a small smile, drawing a pattern on her hand that rests beside your thigh, "Did you say your sweat? I guess that makes it all better then." Natasha let's out a small laugh shaking her head again, "Is that so, detka?"
You smile back, "'Tis so, I only tolerate it if it's you." You feel her lips gently kiss the side of your jaw, "Oh really now?" Your breathing goes heavy as your chest falls with a heavy sigh. She was teasing you. "You know the answer to that, Natasha." You can't help but tease back.
"Do I know, detka?" Her lips trail down your neck, you nod, licking your lips as you release a shaky sigh, "Yes." You feel her lips smile against your neck, "Da, detka." Her teeth nicked at your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Your skin arised with goosebumps.
"Tasha..." you gently call her name. "I've been missing you," the redhead pinned you down to the bed with her body, her hands on your hips. "I'm right here," you whispered out.
Before you know it, you're both naked in bed. Your Russian wife is hovering above you as her palms rest on either side of your head, her body between your legs. Her large cock is hard, and her red tip is leaking precum on your lower abdomen.
"Fuck, I can't wait to feel you again," Natasha held her cock with her one hand as the other supported her weight. Her forearm beside your head as she slowly jerked herself off, "I can't wait to be inside your pretty pussy again." You whimpered, "Natasha, please. I need you." You begged your wife, "Please." You stared into her lustful green eyes. The way her green eyes scanned your face, the way her breathing deepened. Without a second thought, she guided her cock to your entrance. Her hips slowly moved forward as she pushed her tip through your sensitive folds.
"Natasha!" You loudly moaned as you felt her bottom out inside of you, her hips pressing against yours. "You feel so fucking good, detka," Her Russian accent was raspy as she breathed out heavily against your chest. Her hips started at a slow pace, "There you go, sweetheart," her lips kissed all over your breasts, "You're doing so well for me." She mumbled against your skin as she lightly pressed you for taking her so well. Slowly but surely her hips started moving faster, her thrusts becoming faster and harder, building your climax.
You let out a loud moan of her name as you grasped at her biceps in pleasure, her tip hitting a sensitive spot inside of you. You bit your bottom lip as you leaned your head back against the pillow, her lips immediately placing open mouthed kisses on your skin as you continue to moan for your wife.
"That's it, detka," Natasha's hips are never relenting, her thrusts hard and meaningful, "You're doing so well." Her breath ghosting over your hot, sweaty skin as she pressed you again.
Her teeth nipped at your collarbone, leaving little bite marks of love behind as she thrusted into you at a quickened pace. "Fuck, Natasha!" You gasped out, her tip kissing your g- spot.
At the sound of your pleasured gasp, she couldn't help but let out a low, guttural groan of her own. Natasha moved to stroke your hair back from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear as she gazed down at you with a tender, loving smile.
Natasha wanted to memorise every expression, every flicker of emotion that crossed your beautiful face as she slowly, carefully began to move inside you after so long, she's missed the feeling of being inside of you. "Fuck, I've missed this," Natasha kissed up your neck, "I've missed you, my darling." Her lips found yours in a passionate kiss. "I'm gonna cum!" You whimper against her lips. "Yeah?" Your wife teased you, "You wanna come for me?" Her thrusts are somehow harder and more meaningful, "fucking come for me, detka."
And so you did, you came hard, coating her cock, and she quickly came right after you. Your fluids mixed as she moved inside you slowly, her hips coming to a slow as she let out heavy pants. "Fuck, that was..." She smirked down at you, "amazing. You were amazing, moya lyubov." You swallowed, your thighs shook around her, you let out a small laugh, stroking the back of her neck, playing with small strands of her hair that were wet because of sweat.
"My legs feel like jelly," you whispered out after a silent moment. Your wife lets out a raspy chuckle against your neck, "Job well done then." You playfully hit her shoulder, eliciting another soft laugh from her. Natasha slowly pulled out of you, "We'll shower later, yeah? But for now, I just need to hold you." You let out a tired noise of agreement, your haze slowly drifting away as sleep took over.
_ __ __ _ __ _ __ _ __ _ __ _
It's been two weeks since that romantic evening with Natasha. Ever since last week you've felt sick, waking up early hours of the morning to throw up your stomach contents. Your wife would always come rub your back in comfort and make you a warm cup of tea to help with dizziness.
You also missed your period.
You put two and two together. One day you went out by yourself and went to buy three pregnancy tests. Later that day you sat in the bathroom. The first test said positive. You released a shaky exhale, telling yourself that it could be a false positive. So you took the second test. Another positive.
Coincidence, right? That's what you thought.
You took the third test, holding your breath as you waited for three minutes to pass. You picked the test up with shaky hands, feeling dizzy and about to pass out.
Positive.
You're pregnant. You're really pregnant. You paced the small bathroom as you tapped the test on your palm, thinking of ways to tell your wife. You were still on the run and now you're pregnant? This is going to be... a lot to take in.
At dinner, you didn't have an appetite as you messed around with the food on your plate, not feeling the mood to eat, not like you could stomach it for long as it'd end up in the toilet.
"You okay, detka?" Natasha asked, covering your hand with hers, "Dinner not to your liking?" You clear your throat, "Uh, no, no. Dinner is... is lovely. Thank you, Natasha." You answered, lying back nervously. "You wouldn't know that, you haven't even taken a small bite out of it," the Russian put her cutlery down, she moved her chair to face you fully, taking both your hands in hers, "Sweetheart, tell me what's wrong. Let me help."
You bit your bottom lip as you looked away in nervousness, your eyes anywhere but hers, "I don't think this is something you can... help." Her thumb and index finger catch your chin, pulling your face to face her. Forcing you to make eye contact with her, "Well then let me try." Her voice was determined yet soft with care.
Natasha watched as you got up from the table and entered the small bedroom. You wiped your eyes of any forming tears threatening to fall. You came back ten seconds later with three small sticks in your hand. Natasha immediately knew, swallowing her question.
You sat back down in front of her, "I have been feeling sick a lot recently... and I've missed my period. I put two and two together and..." You shrugged, holding out the pregnancy tests to her with shaking hands. "I'm pregnant, Natasha." Your eyes were watery, your leg bouncing as you awaited her response.
She stared silently at the three tests. A silence filled the trailer.
A moment later, her small laugh was heard, "You're pregnant?" She looks up at you with glossed over eyes, a bright smile on her face as she couldn't contain her excitement. "Yes, I'm pregnant." You let out a laugh of relief, seeing as your wife was happy about the pregnancy too.
Natasha got up from the table, pulling you into a tight embrace as she kissed the top of your head.
"You're really pregnant," her hand moved down between your two bodies, "with my baby. Our baby." Her fingers traced over your clothed abdomen, tears of joy sliding down her cheeks as she smiled down at you. You felt her wet, tear-stained lips against your own tear tear-stained lips in a passionate kiss filled with a new profound love and joy.
"Thank you, moya lyubov," she kissed you deeply, "for this gift. I love you." You can't help but look at her lovingly, "I love you too, Natasha Romanoff. I can't wait to begin this future with you." Her hand rubbed your lower abdomen, "I can't wait to watch you grow. To watch your belly grow with our baby. For our baby to grow up in a loving family." She kissed you deeply yet so softly. "I love you, my darling," Natasha continued to hug you tightly, holding your body close to hers as her warmth surrounded you.
Warnings: 18+MINORS DNI! Age gap, Dark!Natasha, blood, possessive behavior, praise, restraints, heavy edging, vibrator use, strap on use, submission,
Word count: 5,4k
A/n: Not me here again…turning a “just thought” into a “request series” I still have plenty waiting in my box, so heads up! Thank you so much for all the words on the last part, and I apologize for..that. 🖤
Part 1
The walls were painted in arterial red.
Not because they were built that way..no. SHIELD wasn’t in the business of aesthetics. But blood was smeared like mural art, fresh and thick, trailing in clawed streaks and handprints. Five agents dead. Another half dozen missing parts of themselves. Their bones crunched like candy glass, their screams already fading into a silence heavy with dread.
You stood in the center of it all. Blood at the corners of your mouth. Your chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths, not from exhaustion, but calm. The thing inside you had eaten. And it was purring now.
We warned them, it said in your head, voice oily and satisfied. They poked, we bit.
The cell door hissed open behind you. You didn’t turn, probably another agent, another suit..another death. You were already smiling.
But the footsteps were wrong. Not tactical, not panicked. “What a mess.”
You turned your head, just slightly. Black leather, red hair, green eyes that didn’t blink. A woman who looked at carnage and didn’t see horror.
She’s small, the symbiote hissed. Let us pull her apart.
But something in you paused. You could feel the weaponry on the Widow. The static hum of her suit. The energy tucked inside those bite-units on her wrists. She was dangerous, but that wasn’t what held your attention.
It was the eyes..she wasn’t afraid. Everyone who came into this room came with fear in their veins. Some tried to hide it, some begged, some pissed themselves. But not her. Natasha’s eyes locked on you like you were a puzzle already half-solved.
She’s not prey, you thought..She was something else.
“You’ve been very busy.” Natasha stepped carefully over a shredded corpse, crouched to pick up a dog tag from the floor. She read the name. “Agent Moss..Had a wife, a baby girl, I think.”
You didn’t speak. “You carved out his throat.” You smiled, sharp and slow. “He begged.”
“So you killed him slower.”
Natasha moved forward. You could feel the charge in her Widow’s Bites building, blue light faint under the black metal of her gauntlets. But she didn’t aim them. She didn’t even raise her hands.
“You’re not going to kill me.” she said, with certainty that sounded like prophecy.
You tilted your head. “Aren’t I?” That was when it moved.
The symbiote surged forward under your skin, black veins twisting like roots up your throat and down your arms. Your pupils blew wide, and your breath hitched. Your fingers flexed, claws already forming.
Now, it growled. She bleeds, she screams!
You lunged faster than thought. You aimed for Natasha’s neck, straight for the jugular, but Natasha wasn’t there. Instead, electricity burned through your body before your fingers connected. Widow’s Bites discharged, full-voltage, seizing every muscle mid-leap.
You collapsed hard onto the blood-slick floor. The symbiote inside you howled. Not from pain, but from confusion. We are stronger! it shrieked inside your skull. But Natasha was already on you. One knee pressing into your spine, the other hand locked into your hair, dragging your head back until your throat was exposed, trembling.
“I know, I know..” Natasha whispered, low against your ear. “You’re stronger, but you’re not smarter.”
You snarled, and your limbs twitched. You tried to move, to surge- a second bite tore through your back. White-hot electricity exploded along your spine. Your scream echoed off the walls, half-human, half-symbiote. You clawed at the floor, leaving deep gouges.
“You didn’t expect me..” Natasha continued, her breath brushing the skin below your jaw. “That’s why you’re on the floor. Face down..somehow bleeding.”
“You’ll die for this!” you hissed, voice split in two, the symbiote’s snarl layered beneath your human tone.
“No.” Natasha said, calmly. “I won’t.”
You tried to roll, tried to throw her off. The symbiote surged, muscles straining, tendrils pushing against skin..Another bite. Directly into the base of your spine. Your body jerked, convulsing, breath catching. The symbiote howled in confusion.
She’s small. She’s weak. Why can’t we-
“Because you like it.” Natasha said, cutting through your thoughts like a knife. Her hand slid down, palm flat on the small of your back, holding you still while current trembled through your muscles. “Every time you fight me, I’ll put you down again.”
You snarled, teeth bared. “I’ll kill you-”
Another bite. Your body arched, helpless, a sound breaking out of your throat you didn’t recognize. Natasha leaned closer, breath warm against your ear. “I know.” she whispered again. “I know exactly what you are.”
Your limbs trembled. You tried to push up, but your claws slipped in blood.
“That’s it.” Natasha murmured. “Fight me.”
Every time you moved, Natasha pulsed another charge into your spine, small, precise bursts that stripped strength without knocking you out. Breaking you down without breaking you entirely.
“You don’t want to kill me.” Natasha whispered, voice dripping like dark honey. “You want someone who can stop you.”
Your breath came ragged. The symbiote had fallen silent. Your body twitched under Natasha’s weight, but the fight was ebbing like a tide. Your claws retracted, and your fingers curled against the floor.
Then she suddenly let go, and you rolled onto your back instantly, muscles still twitching, blood in your teeth. Natasha crouched over you, eyes unreadable, calm as a priest preparing a sacrifice.
“You liked it.” Natasha said softly. “When I hurt you.”
You stared at her, and the symbiote was silent. “You liked being put down..” she murmured, stroking your hair now, slow and possessive. “You’ve been alone in that head for too long..Fighting it, and letting it twist you.”
She leaned in again. A ghost of a breath between your lips. “You want someone who can control it.” Natasha whispered. “Don’t you?”
You should have spit in her face. Should have clawed her throat out. Should have let the thing inside you explode. But you didn’t, you just..stared, and Natasha reached down and hooked her fingers under your chin, tilting your head up, slowly until you were on your knees.
Eyes wide, hands limp at your sides. Head tilted like a doll. “Good girl.” Natasha whispered.
Your eyes fluttered open. For a moment you didn’t know where you were. The walls weren’t the cell. There were no flickering lights, just the steady hum of a space too expensive and too hidden to exist anywhere on paper.
Then you fend an arm draped across your waist, heavy and warm. Not protective..possessive. Like a lock disguised as a caress. You lay still, it had been a flashback again, blood, electricity, your knees on the floor. You’d woken up sweating. But this wasn’t a dream, this was your life now.
Inside your skull, the symbiote stirred, We need to feed. Your fingers twitched on the sheets. You could taste it on your tongue, the metallic ache of craving.
Natasha shifted behind you. You felt the movement before you heard it. The faint rasp of leather on sheets. The arm around your waist tightened, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to remind you who you belonged to.
“Bad dreams?” Natasha’s voice was low, rough with sleep. She didn’t sound worried, rather sounded amused.
You didn’t answer, and Natasha propped herself up on one elbow, studying you. The green of her eyes cut through the dim light. She didn’t need a file anymore, she could read your pulse, your micro-expressions, the way your lips trembled.
She knew exactly what was happening. “You’re hungry.” Natasha said softly. You blinked, throat dry, and tried to look away. But Natasha smiled. She swung her legs off the bed, standing fluidly, stretching like a cat. She didn’t look away from you once.
“Up.” she murmured.
You sat up slowly, hair falling into your face. The symbiote coiled beneath your skin, restless, whispering feedfeedfeed. Natasha tilted her head, drinking in the sight of you. Your pupils blown wide, lips parted just slightly.
Hungry.
Natasha walked over, stopping just in front of you. She looked down at you like an artist admiring her own work. “You’re trying so hard..” she whispered mockingly. “But I can see it in your mouth, and your eyes.”
You swallowed, the black veins flickered once at your neck. “Please…” you murmured.
Natasha crouched so you were eye-level. She reached out, fingers catching your chin, tilting it up until you were forced to meet her gaze. “Please what?” Natasha asked, voice velvet and venom at once.
Your breath trembled. “Just one..anyone.”
Natasha’s smile deepened. Her thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, smearing a faint trace of black that had risen under your skin.
“Look at you.” she said softly. “My little monster. Asking before you bite.”
Your eyes closed briefly. The symbiote hissed in your head, desperate, Yes. Yes. Let us hunt.
Natasha leaned in until her lips were almost at your ear, “Go ahead.” she whispered. “One. Just one.”
You exhaled, shuddering, your muscles coiled, “Thank you.” you whispered.
“Say it again.” Natasha murmured.
“Thank you, Natasha.” you said, louder now, the words heavy in your throat. Natasha stroked your hair once, slow and possessive, then released your chin. “Breakfast.” she said softly. “Don't bring the cops on me.”
You stood, the hunger surged up your spine like fire. Your hands trembled, and the symbiote hissed its joy. You glanced once over your shoulder. Natasha was still crouched there, smiling up at you like a queen watching her pet take the leash off.
Then you vaulted through the open window, disappearing into the morning lights. Natasha stood slowly, walking to the window. She leaned against the frame, watching the city lights flicker below. Her smile curved sharper.
“Good girl.” she whispered to the empty room.
Minutes later, Natasha descended the stairs in black slacks and a half-buttoned shirt. At the marble island, Clint was already halfway through a stack of pancakes, drowning in syrup. Tony stood by the espresso machine, muttering threats at it.
“Morning.” Clint mumbled through a mouthful. Tony handed her a coffee, black, no sugar. “You’re welcome.”
They talked about Clint’s sore shoulder, Tony complaining about someone hacking his calendar and scheduling a wellness retreat he didn’t authorize, and Natasha just sipped her coffee, ate toast with surgical precision, but didn’t say much. She never did during these moments.
It was barely audible, the faint thump of boots on the hallway carpet upstairs. Then footsteps on the stairs. She didn’t look right away, but her senses sharpened. You appeared at the edge of the hallway, your frame was still, your breathing calm, but Natasha saw it instantly: the tension in your shoulders, the twitch in your fingers, the slight dilation of your pupils.
And the blood under your fingernails. Natasha’s eyes dropped to your hands, and back to your face. Your gaze met hers across the room, and you dipped your head. A gesture of obedience, or acknowledgment..or maybe both. Then you turned without a word and disappeared down the hallway, the soft click of your door closing behind you.
Clint didn’t notice, but Tony did. He raised a brow over his coffee. “Please tell me she didn’t bring a souvenir.”
“She didn’t.” Natasha said smoothly, never looking away from the hallway.
Tony exhaled. “Good. Because if she rips someone in half at tonight’s party, I’m putting you in charge of cleaning the floors.”
“She won’t.”
“You sound confident.”
Natasha finally turned toward him. “I am.”
Tony studied her for a beat. He was good at reading people, brilliant, even but not Natasha. Not really, not when she didn’t want to be read. “Just keep her on a leash.” he muttered, turning back to his espresso. “The UN’s coming tonight. I want everyone’s heads firmly attached.”
Clint snorted. “Not a high bar, Tony.”
Natasha didn’t reply, she stirred her coffee slowly, gaze far away. She knew you were in your room now. Pacing, maybe, cleaning the blood from your skin.
The hours passed in quiet. You stayed out of trouble. You did what you were supposed to, didn’t kill anyone, didn’t feed again, hell didn’t even break anything.
You went on the roof, sat for a while with the wind in your hair and the city breathing below you like a heartbeat you didn’t trust. The symbiote stirred sometimes, but you kept it down. Natasha had given you one and you’d taken it. The taste still lingered at the edges of your teeth like heat.
But now the sun was dying, and the evening had come. And with it..the event. You stood near the mirror, half-dressed, pacing in slow, angry circles in front of the sleek, expensive vanity Natasha had set up for you weeks ago. Your hands curled into fists.
You hated parties. The music, the smell of cheap perfume and expensive sweat. The people, all soft, fake smiles and sharp laughter and too much skin. You hated their fragility, the way you could rip through every neck in that room in under three minutes if you stopped trying.
And most of all, yu hated pretending. The outfit was way too tight. Delicate at the throat, like something a doll would wear. Your claws had already nearly torn the zipper once.
“This is a mistake..” you muttered. “I’m not-” You stopped yourself. “Why the hell do I have to be there?”
From across the room, the door creaked open, and an inevitable voice behind you. “Because..” Natasha said gently, “I want you to feel like a person.”
You turned sharply, rage in your eyes, but it wasn’t full, not really. Because you already knew you’d lost the argument the second you opened your mouth. Natasha crossed the room, her heels made no sound against the polished wood.
She didn’t raise her voice or threaten. She just stood behind you and began adjusting the straps of your outfit. Her fingers were careful, pulling the fabric into place, smoothing the line of the collar, brushing deliberately against bare skin.
“You’ll wear this.” Natasha murmured, voice like silk against your ear. “You’ll walk in beside me..and you’ll smile if someone speaks to you.”
“I don’t want to smile.”
“You don’t have to mean it.” she said softly. “You just have to try.”
You looked down, and didn’t move when Natasha stepped closer, one hand on your waist now, the other gently pulling your hair back to pin it. “And you’ll drink if you like.” Natasha continued, breath warm against your neck. “Laugh if something’s funny.”
The touch was gentle, until it wasn’t. In a blink, Natasha’s hand curled under your chin, forcing you to turn and face her. Her grip tightened, not enough to bruise, but enough to remind.
Your eyes locked, all softness vanished from Natasha’s voice. “No feeding.” she said, slowly and clearly. “No threats, no disappearing.”
Your pulse spiked, and the symbiote bristled. “And if something happens.” Natasha added, voice now a low, commanding whisper, “you ask me. First. Always.”
Natasha’s eyes searched yours. “Say it.” she murmured.
“I ask you first.” you said, voice hoarse.
Natasha’s head tilted. “And?”
“No feeding.” you added, barely above a whisper.
“Good.” She let go slowly. Smoothed your hair back, but her hand lingered at your throat, fingers brushing the hollow of your collarbone. Then she smiled, and it wasn’t cruel, not exactly.
It was something worse, something possessive. “You’re beautiful like this.” Natasha said, her tone soft again now, dangerous in its affection. “You look like you belong in the world.”
You didn’t reply, but you didn’t look away, either. Natasha saw it, the flicker behind your eyes. The part of you that hated being tamed…and the part that wanted to stay leashed.
“You’ll do fine.” Natasha said, stepping back. “Walk beside me, and let them stare. You’re mine.” You just nodded, and the two of you left the room together, shadows walking into light.
The music pulsed low and elegant, filling the tower’s vast, glass-walled ballroom with sound and life. Gold light spilled across polished marble, Ice clinked in glasses. Laughter floated like smoke between conversations.
You stepped into it slowly, the air pressing in around you like a second skin. You hated it already. People buzzed around in glittering dresses and pressed suits, hiding behind champagne flutes and perfect teeth. Their minds were soft, their hearts fragile. You could feel it, sense it..smell it, almost.
But you said nothing, and walked beside Natasha in silence. Natasha greeted people with quiet poise, smiling when necessary, speaking in clipped, pleasant tones. She touched your lower back once, guiding you through the crowd, then left you, just like that walking away toward a cluster of colleagues near the raised mezzanine.
You watched her go, her spine straight and slow as silk, red hair like a warning. She let go of the leash.. The thought made something coil in your stomach.
You drifted to the bar, and sat down at the far end. You didn’t drunk something, just sat, eyes scanning the room like a wolf behind glass. That’s when you felt the presence. A woman leaned against the bar next to you, not looking directly at you.
Maria. The last time you’d seen each other, there’d been blood on the floor and screams in the hallway. “You clean up nice.”
Your fingers tightened around a glass. Maria tilted her head. “So tell me.” she said casually, “how does it feel watching Natasha replace you?”
The words hit like a sniper’s bullet. You blinked once, the corner of your mouth twitching. “What?”
Maria didn’t answer, she just nodded toward the mezzanine, and you followed her gaze. And there they were.. Natasha…and Wanda. They weren’t speaking, not really. But they sat too close. Wanda’s lips parted, a faint smile there, and Natasha tilted her head just slightly, red hair falling over her shoulder like something practiced.
Your chest burned. A low sound stirred in the back of your throat, the kind that didn’t belong to you alone.
She’s ours! The symbiote hissed. She’s not supposed to-
But what was it? Jealousy? You hated Natasha. You loathed the control, the games, the leash, and yet your hands trembled now, not with rage, but possession. You didn’t understand it.
“She does this..” she said. “Plays with her toys. Sees how far she can push them before they bite.”
You didn’t respond, you were still watching, and in that moment, Natasha glanced up, and met your eyes.
She smirked. Not a smile. Just a glint of teeth, the kind you show before a bite. You looked away fast, the drink in your hand shattered.
Maria arched a brow. “Hit a nerve?”
You shook out your hand, the symbiote healed it before the blood could surface. “I don’t care.” you muttered, but the words tasted like poison.
Maria leaned closer, her voice lower now. “Then don’t let her see you squirm.”
You looked up, uncertain, and Maria smiled, “Play back.”
“…How?”
Maria held out her hand. “Dance with me.”
You stared at her for a beat. “You’re joking.”
“Am I?”
A beat of silence, then something between a laugh and a growl..and you took her hand. The crowd parted slightly, and the music slowed. Maria pulled you in close, one hand on your hip, the other clasped in yours.
You didn’t know how to dance. But Maria guided you, smooth and unhurried. She didn’t speak for a while, just kept your bodies close, heads tilted together like something intimate. Then, against your ear: “It’s working.”
Maria’s eyes flicked up, and you followed the line of sight. On the mezzanine, Natasha had gone still. She wasn’t speaking anymore or smiling, wasn’t even blinking. No..her eyes were locked, piercing on you.
“Oh.” You were in trouble. The symbiote just chuckled darkly inside your mind. Yes. Let’s play.
Maria’s voice brushed against you again. “She hates sharing.” And for a moment, you loved it..After some minutes, the song ended in a slow, shivering fade. Maria slid her hand from your waist and stepped back, her smirk sharp as a blade. “You’re fun when you let yourself be, you know.” she murmured, and without another word, she slipped off the floor and disappeared into the crowd.
You stood there, a little breathless, still feeling the phantom press of Maria’s fingers against your skin. You blinked, half amused and half stunned. Bold woman, the symbiote purred.
You laughed softly under your breath. You liked it..You liked the audacity, the way Natasha’s eyes had burned from across the room-
Your thought cut off, because when you turned around, Natasha was already there. Not on the mezzanine anymore, or across the room. No, right in front of you. Close enough that you could smell her perfume under the scent of wine and silk. Close enough that the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you.
And her expression.. was calm, a little to calm. Her l eyes flicked down your body once, slow and deliberate, taking in the outfit, the way your pulse jumped under your skin, then back up to your face.
No smile this time. You tilted your head, and smiled anyway. Bold now?
“Enjoying the party?” you asked, voice low, teasing. Natasha didn’t answer. She just stepped closer, her fingers brushing your wrist once, barely a touch, but it was a command disguised as a caress.
The symbiote hissed inside your skull. She’s angry.
You smiled wider. “What’s wrong, Nat? Don’t like seeing me have fun?” Natasha’s jaw twitched once. That was all the warning..Then she moved. In one smooth, practiced motion she slid her hand up your arm, fingers closing just above your elbow. Her other hand found your waist, steering you as if you were still dancing.
No one watching would think it was anything but a whisper against the noise of the room. But you felt the command in every inch of it. You let yourself be steered, even as the symbiote writhed. You moved through the crowd like smoke, Natasha cutting a path without looking at anyone. Her grip didn’t ease, and her eyes stayed forward.
Your heart beat faster, you kinda should have been afraid, but somehow you weren’t..you were thrumming. Natasha opened a door without looking. A room swallowed you both, and the latch clicked behind you.
And then, only then, did Natasha stop. She turned on you with a slow pivot, closing the space between you until her body was a wall of heat against your own. Her hand still on your arm, the other sliding up to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, forcing your chin up.
Green eyes burned down into black-veined ones, and for a long moment, Natasha said nothing.
Then, softly, dangerously, “Do you like playing with me?”
Your breath caught, and Natasha’s grip tightened, tilting your head back just enough to make it a stretch. “Do you?” she whispered again.
You swallowed and smiled a little. “Maybe.”
Natasha’s eyes flickered. A slow smile curved her mouth now. You barely had time to turn before you were pinned back against the wall, Natasha’s thigh shoved between yours, one hand braced beside your head, the other sliding up your side.
“You really thought..” Natasha murmured, breath warm against your cheek, “that touching her would get back at me?”
You wanted to answer, but Natasha kissed you, and it wasn’t sweet, no, it was punishment. A hungry crush of lips and teeth, like she was devouring you. You moaned into it, the sound swallowed instantly. The symbiote thrashed inside you, dark tendrils pushing at the edges of your skin, hungry and uncontained.
But then..control. That leash again.
You whimpered when Natasha pulled away. “You’re mine.” Natasha said darkly, dragging her fingers down the center of your chest, nails grazing just enough to make you shiver. “Not Hill’s. Not anyone’s.”
She grabbed your wrist and spun you toward the bed. The room spun with it, and the next second, Natasha was pushing and you hit the mattress with a soft gasp. “On your back. Now.”
You obeyed. Of course you did. Your body moved before your mind could catch up, some part of you compelled to listen. It wasn’t just Natasha’s voice, it was power woven into every syllable. She climbed onto the bed slowly, like a predator savoring her kill, knees straddling your hips, eyes never leaving yours.
She kissed you again, slower this time. Her fingers traced along your jaw, then down your neck. Your hands clenched the sheets, and while you were lost in that kiss, in the taste, in the warmth, in the goddamn ache of it..you didn’t notice what Natasha was doing until it was too late.
Click.
Metal around your wrists, “What…?”
You looked up, your hands were cuffed to the headboard. The worse? They weren’t normal cuffs. These weren’t just for play, no, the were Stark-made. Reinforced with sound-dampening vibranium alloy.
The symbiote growled and tried to pull free, but nothing happened. “What the fuck is this?” you demanded, jerking at the cuffs.
Natasha smiled lethal and beautiful. “Insurance.” she purred. “For when you forget who makes the rules.”
Her hand slid between your legs, and she slipped a toy from somewhere beneath the sheets. Your eyes went wide. “No-wait-”
Natasha silenced you with a kiss again as she slid it inside. You arched off the bed, panting, already overwhelmed. But then Natasha pulled away, got off the bed, and Fixed her dress like nothing had happened.
You looked at her, stunned. “You’re leaving?”
Natasha turned back, already holding the remote in her hand. “Mmhm.”
The vibrator came alive. Soft at first, then stronger. You gasped, and arched your back. Wrists tugged uselessly at the cuffs. Natasha tilted her head, admiring the sight of you, tied up, panting, ruined already.
“Do you know what happens next?” she asked softly. You swallowed hard, your throat dry, and didn’t answer.
Natasha tilted her head. “I’m going back to the party. I’m going to smile..I’m going to laugh with Wanda.” She held up the device, thumb brushing over the button. “And you’re going to stay here and think about how much you hate me. And every time I want to…” Her thumb tapped the button once, a soft hum filled the air. “…I’ll remind you that you’re still mine.”
The symbiote hissed inside your skull, thrashing against the cuffs. It had never been trapped before and its hating it.
Your breath hitched, half fury, half something you didn’t dare name, and Natasha’s smile just deepened. “You look jealous already.”
“I’m not-” you started, but your voice broke.
Natasha’s eyes softened “Oh, little monster..” she murmured. “You’ll learn.”
She set the device down just out of reach, her fingers trailing over your cheek one last time, almost tender. “Be good for me.”
Then she turned toward the door, hair swinging like a curtain of fire, and paused. “And don’t worry.” Natasha added, voice like velvet over steel, “I’ll be thinking about you the whole time. Maybe I’ll even let Wanda hold the remote for a bit.”
The symbiote screamed in your mind. You were shaking now, with rage, with need, with something feral burning just under your skin.
“Fuck you!!” you spat, eyes wild.
Natasha grinned. “Already did.” And she was gone.
You were left trembling, burning, stretched out and soaked, cuffed to the bed with Natasha’s toy still pulsing inside you. And this went on for thirty-four minutes. That’s how long you had been bound to the bed, legs twitching, jaw clenched and fighting.
The cuffs still burned faintly at your wrists, damp with sweat now and the vibrator inside you had a mind of its own. Or rather…Natasha’s mind.
It had stopped and started six times.
Each time worse and longer. And every time you were right there, panting, desperate, body clenching around nothing..it stopped. Gone like a tease, leaving you a soaked, shaking mess.
The seventh time…it stayed on longer. Much much longer. Your whole body had locked up, thighs trembling, your back arching, breath turning into little gasps. The edge was there..so close, you could taste it.
And then...Silence. “No!!!” you cried out, voice cracking. “You fucking-! Turn it back on, I swear to god-!”
The symbiote writhed helplessly under your skin, feeding off your arousal, your rage, your need. It wanted to destroy something. To feed. But the cuffs held tight. You twisted, yanked, nothing. Just the slick sound of your soaked thighs rubbing together, the heavy silence pressing down on you, your lips parted and your eyes glassy with frustration.
Tears slipped down your cheeks you u didn’t even notice. Until the vibrator buzzed again.
“F-Fuck-” you gasped, your whole body tensing as it started low, deep, vibrating in waves. “No-please-no more-“
The door opened, and Natasha stepped in. She stopped at the door for a moment, watching, silent. Watching the way you fought against the cuffs. The way your hips couldn’t stay still. The way your eyes were wet and shining with a mix of fury and unbearable need.
And the scent..god, the scent of you. “You poor thing..” Natasha murmured as she walked in, slow and predatory. “Still fighting it, hmm?”
You turned your head, breathing ragged, hair stuck to your face. “Go to hell.”
She circled the bed slowly, trailing a finger down your thigh. The symbiote twitched under your skin, trying to reach her, failing.
“You should see yourself.” Natasha whispered. “Your thighs are shaking. Your pupils are blown. You’re so wet, it’s dripping onto the sheets.”
You turned your face away, shame burning hotter than the vibrator. “Still holding out..” Natasha said softly, almost in admiration. “That’s cute.”
And then, click. The toy inside you jolted to life again, stronger then before. You screamed high and raw, not from pain, but from how fast it built up inside you. Your muscles locked, your back arched. Your hands clenched in the cuffs so hard your knuckles went white.
“Stop, stop-fuck!” you sobbed, “please-”
You were going to come, you couldn’t stop it- But Natasha could. “NO!” you cried out, hips bucking against the empty air. “No, no, please-!”
Your voice broke on a sob. Your body collapsed into the bed, trembling and twitching. Natasha just stood at the foot of the bed, watching you, amused and turned on as hell.
You blinked up at her, dazed, furious, wrecked. “Why…why are you doing this…?”
Natasha leaned down, her breath brushing your cheek. “To teach you.” she whispered, “what happens when you try to play my games.”
You felt Natasha’s hands sliding up your thighs. You hadn’t even heard her move, hadn’t even seen her reaching for the strap harness on the dresser.
She was already kneeling on the mattress, straddling you, moving like a hunter who already owned the kill. “You’re shaking.” she murmured. “You’re still pretending you’re in control.”
You squeezed your eyes shut. Your hips shifted without permission. Your breath came in uneven bursts. “Stop…stop playing games…”
Natasha leaned down until her lips brushed your ear. “No, little spider. You started the game.”
The harness creaked as Natasha adjusted it, you heard the sound before you registered what it was. You tried to turn your head, tried to fight, but your muscles were too soft, too weak from the endless teasing.
Natasha dragged a thumb across your lips, slow. “Apologize.”
You bit the inside of your cheek. The symbiote snarled somewhere deep in your chest. “I won’t, and so will you!-”
Another flick of the controller. The vibrator surged inside you again. Your whole body bowed off the mattress. A sound escaped you that wasn’t a moan, wasn’t a scream, but something raw between them. “N‑Natasha-“
“Say it..” Natasha repeated, voice low and dangerous. “Or I keep going.”
Tears streaked down your face. Your hands clawed at the cuffs until your wrists ached. “I’m-” you gasped. “I’m sorry! please-”
The toy clicked off. You slumped, shaking, blinking up at the redhead through wet lashes. Only then did you realize Natasha was already above you, harness strapped, poised, eyes dark and burning.
Natasha stroked a hand down your cheek, wiping a tear with her thumb. “Good girl.” she murmured. “Now you’re ready.”
She shifted forward, the leather brushing your inner thighs, and leaned in close until her breath was all you could feel. “You’re going to remember this every time you think about disobeying me.”
Summary: The morning after some intense intimacy with your girlfriends, you wake up in their bed, feeling soft and small. Natasha and Wanda are there to catch and comfort you, whatever headspace you're in ♡
Word count: 2k ♡
Heads up: This is a SFW age regression one-shot. There is very vague reference to *something* having happened the night before, but otherwise this is just pure fluff ♡
Author's Note: I've never written something specifically about age regression before... this just kind of happened the other day (I think I was in need of comfort so gravitated towards writing something super fluffy). Thank you to everyone who let me know they'd be interested in trying this out from me, I needed that extra push! Anyway, I really hope this is okay 🥺♡
When you wake, your first instinct is to cling. Your body feels tired still, despite all the sleep. There will no doubt be bruises blooming on your skin, but last night feels too far away to contemplate those aches, like it was experienced by another person entirely. This morning your head is cloaked in the marshmallow fog of something beyond your usual subspace, something fluffy and fragile and undeniably small. Right now all you can think of is them, and you need to know that they’re beside you, that they will cushion your fall.
Today it’s Natasha’s turn to be on the receiving end of your clinginess, since she’s the one in front of you when your eyes open and the fuzzy desperation kicks in. Your fingers find her vest top and wrap around the bottom of the strap, clinging to the triangle of fabric like this will anchor you to her forever. She’s asleep, which surprises you. Natasha is always awake before you, always ready. Seeing her sleeping is strange, and although she looks so pretty and peaceful like this, you need her awake so you can reassure yourself of her love.
One more little tug prompts Natasha’s eyes to flicker open, and her lips curl into a smile when she meets your avid gaze. One glance down at your hand tells her everything she needs to know about your mindset this morning. You’re floating in the hot air balloon which always carries you away after an intense scene. The aftercare they give you inflates the balloon with warmth, and it rises according to the amount they give, the amount you need. This time their sweetness and reassurance has sent you so high into the clouds, there is no sign of returning to land anytime soon. The twitching of your nose and the way your knuckle sits between parted lips are telltale signs of this. Natasha knows you, and she knows that your head always gets more fuzzy as the altitude increases. Softer. Smaller.
Natasha cups your cheek and kisses you on the forehead. You just blink at her with doe-eyes for a while, feeling awestruck and expectant, then you wriggle a little closer and nuzzle into her arm. She is your whole world right now, and it takes a while for your brain to make space for anyone else. When you remember, you turn around to find the bed empty on your other side.
“Mommy is in the bathroom,” Natasha tells you, gesturing with her eyes towards the ensuite door, which is surrounded by the slight glow which signals its occupied status. Her words reassure you instantly, both from the explanation and her ready use of the right title. It simply clicks together in your brain without need for translation, the puzzle pieces the right size and offering the right connections. You turn back to her, replacing your head against her arm. Once safely nestled, you sigh out your content, your breath warm against her arm — probably tickling the soft blonde hairs which grow there. She strokes the back of your head with the hand of the arm you have claimed, her open palm running down the braid she made last night. Her other arm is wrapped around your waist, her fingers creeping up your vest and dancing lightly up and down the bumps of your spine, which protrude a little in your curled-up state. You always seem smaller, somehow, on mornings like this. Perhaps because your limbs are always tucked in, pulling things close and clinging to your girlfriends, or any other source of comfort you can find in the devastating but rare event of their absence.
“What do you want for breakfast, little one?” she asks, and you frown, lips pouting against your knuckle. Your brain is too fuzzy to think. Can’t she see that? Mommy would know; Mommy would take over if you were silent for so long. But Natasha is just waiting, expecting an answer you can’t give.
“Mama choose,” you mewl, the words slipping out without planning, without any awareness that this name is new.
There’s a pause, in which she stops stroking your arm and stays motionless and silent for a few moments. Just long enough to make something stir beneath the fog; the slightest niggle of worry twitching in your belly. But before it can awaken, she resumes the soft motions of her fingers on your skin and responds to you with a measured calm.
“Okay,” Natasha says quietly. “Mama can choose when she is out the bathroom.”
You look up at her then, feeling a little lost. Something isn’t right about her answer. Why the need for waiting? You don’t get it, but you also don’t have the words to question it. So you wait, thoughts too disconnected to contemplate the confusion.
When Wanda opens the door she immediately breaks into a smile at the sight of you and her wife curled up together. Natasha frees one hand from you to gesture for her to come, and Wanda approaches, sitting on the bed and stroking your thigh.
“Our little one wants you to choose what we have for breakfast,” Natasha tells her, and you look up at her, your eyes glistening with tears when you process what she’s saying.
“No!” you whine, clamouring for her to understand, tugging at her top in frustration. “Mama choose.”
She stares down at you, her eyebrows furrowed. There’s no recognition, no understanding in her eyes.
“My love,” Wanda says, huffing with laughter. “She doesn’t mean me. She means you.”
Natasha’s lips part into a small O, and you begin to tremble. She doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want you. You turn your head into her arm, because there’s nowhere else to hide.
“Oh, baby…” Natasha breathes, stroking your back as you sob. “Is that right?” She pauses, finds your chin and tilts it up so you look at her again. There’s an odd expression on her face. She seems nervous, and it scares you. “Am I… am I mama?”
You give the smallest nod, then pull away from her hand to hide again, because you can’t bear to see the disgust on her face. You can’t bear the shame.
“Oh.” It’s a tiny sound she emits. A sound that wavers and crackles with emotion. You cry into her despite her obvious distaste. You cry over what you’ve said, what you’ve done. But then she moves her arms, putting her hands under your armpits, scooping you up and turning you until you’re sitting side-saddle on her lap and hiding your face in her shoulder. “Baby, I... I’d love to be your mama.”
Your sobs stutter a moment, as you process her words. But you’re too scared to believe them. Too scared to emerge from your safe place hidden in her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry that I didn’t understand at first, little one,” she tells you, stroking your hair and then wiping away your tears when you look up at her in hope. She has tears of her own, pooling on her lashes and making her eyes twinkle. “I get it now. I — Mama was just a bit surprised for a moment. Happy surprised. Because you’re mine, and I’m so, so lucky to have you.”
She rocks you then, hushing your leftover cries of overwhelm and kissing your forehead until you calm down and your breath slows. Her body is warm against yours, her grip steady and sure. She’s holding you so tightly, you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to.
“My girls,” Wanda hums happily, stroking the back of your neck and playing with the baby hairs that didn’t make it into the braid. She leans forward and gives Natasha a kiss on the lips, her hand still gently placed on the back of your neck. You watch, blinking away the tears that still cling to your lashes. Your mamas are so pretty.
“So what does mama want for breakfast?” Wanda prompts, smiling between you and Natasha, who grins.
“I am thinking pancakes,” she hums. “What do you think, malen’kaya printsessa?”
You wrinkle up your nose at the nickname, because it’s new. But new doesn’t mean bad; new just means you’re not sure. But pancakes aren’t new. Pancakes you are very sure about. So you nod.
“Pancakes it is, then,” she murmurs. “Our princess has spoken.” And she gives you a kiss on the nose, making you giggle.
“Pancakes sounds wonderful,” Wanda agrees, and she tickles your feet just a little, prompting a pout.
“Mommyyyy…” you whine, “no tickles!”
“Sorry baby,” Wanda apologises, stopping at once and giving you a kiss on your cheek, which makes your pout evaporate. “Now, who would you like to make pancakes?”
You consider that for a moment. Mama usually makes the pancakes, and she makes them well. But Mommy is an excellent cook. You’re sure she can manage, and that would mean you could stay right here where it’s comfy, cradled on Mama’s lap.
“Mommy make them please?” you ask quietly, feeling a wobble in your tummy at the act of choosing, in case you upset her. “And Mama stay?”
“Of course baby,” Wanda tells you, with a smile that soothes your worries. “Such beautiful manners too, my darling girl. You stay here with Mama, and I’ll make the pancakes.”
“Not big ones,” you clarify quickly, heart thudding at the thought. You hate big pancakes. They make your mouth feel fluffy and your tummy feel too full. But Mommy doesn’t seem to understand; she’s wearing that frown which means she’s thinking hard and still doesn’t know what you mean. But you can’t work out how to explain; the words won’t fit together. So you bury your face in your Mama’s neck, upset at your ineptitude and resigning yourself to a yucky breakfast.
“She means she doesn’t want them to be too thick,” Natasha says smoothly. “She wants thin ones — blinis, rather than American pancakes. That’s right, isn’t it, little one?” She guides you to raise your head with a gentle stroke of your cheek, clearly wanting to check your face for confirmation.
You smile at her in relief, and nod. You turn to face Wanda then, giving your Mommy a nod too, just to make sure. She smiles back at you.
“Of course, I forgot how much my baby likes thin pancakes. I’ll make lots and lots, and then you can do the toppings yourself, when they’re ready. Does that sound okay, little one?”
You nod again, then fall back into Natasha’s hold with a sigh, watching your Mommy leave with a slight sadness, but one which is soothed by your Mama’s steady stroking of your arms.
You stay quiet for a while, your bodies melting together and heartbeats slowing to a synchronised thud.
“I love you so much, baby,” she whispers into the crown of your head. “You have no idea how much it means to me, to be your Mama.”
You look up at her, and see her smiling down at you, her cheeks glistening with tears. You reach up, trying to stroke them away, the way she and Mommy do for you.
“Happy?” you nervously check, as your thumb brushes one away.
“Yes, kroshka moya. Happy tears. Very happy tears.”
Even despite her reassurance, your eyes begin to water too. You can’t help it. Seeing anyone cry always sets you off. And you feel so fragile right now, so wobbly.
“Oh, baby,” she coos, returning the favour and mirroring your actions, wiping away a tear with a gentle stroke of her thumb. “Look at the two of us, hm? Are these happy tears too?”
You nod, your hand lifting to grab at her own, needing something to hold, needing another piece of her, although you have so much already.
“Love you, Mama,” you whisper, and Natasha closes her eyes a moment and takes a deep breath, like she’s feeling something too big to share. Then she opens her eyes, and she leans her head down so her forehead presses against yours, skin touching skin.
“Mama loves you too,” she whispers back, her lips forming the words so close to your face that they become part of the air you breathe. The words settle in your lungs, seep into your blood and are pumped around your body until every fibre of your being is marked by the sentiment and imbued with your Mama’s love.
“So very much, baby. Forever.”
Author's Note: Thank you for reading, especially if this is something you didn't expect me to post/don't usually read. I don't have any experience of age regression but I found this really comforting to write, so if there are folk who enjoyed it then I might do/share more of this kind of writing in the future. Please let me know what you think -- constructive comments are welcome too (as long as they are kind) ♡
Dark!Older!Avenger!Natasha x Dark!Female!Spiderman!Reader
You are SHIELD’s most dangerous asset, bonded to a living symbiote, and barely controlled. No one can get close to you…except her. The suit responds to her, and so do you. And what began as tactical obedience has twisted into something darker, obsession, control, and complete submission. She isn’t trying to save the monster. She’s teaching it who it belongs to.
A/n: Not a series, just a thought..heavenly inspired by dark SpiderMan edits on TikTok + House of Balloons, which has been living in my head for way too long now… 🌑 Hearing it live next year!! 🌚
The rain hadn’t stopped all night, painting the city in a slick, shimmering sheen that made everything look unreal, streets glistening like oil, windows glowing with distorted light. Sirens wailed in the distance, cutting through the sound of tires over wet asphalt. Something had gone wrong. Very very wrong.
“Suspect enhanced!” came Sam’s voice through the comms, tight with urgency. “Running east on 53rd toward the plaza. He’s juiced up on something. We’re not catching him on foot-”
Steve rounded a corner, water splashing around his boots. “If he reaches open street, we lose him.”
Above the intersection, Tony hovered midair, scanning the fleeing man’s path. “I can’t trap him without risking civilians.” He warned, eyes darting over the crowds below. The man in question, massive, frantic, pulsing with stolen tech charged across the intersection like a cornered animal. That’s when Natasha’s voice sliced cleanly through the channel, calm and unflinching.
“I’m calling her.” A beat of silence answered. No questions, no resistance, but everyone understood what that meant.
High above them all, tucked beneath a weathered gargoyle, you had already been listening. Every word, every note of panic in their voices. You’d felt it unravel in real time, muscles twitching with restraint. They didn’t call you for recon. They didn’t call you for cleanup. You weren’t part of the team..not in the way the others were.
They only called when nothing else worked. Your fingers flexed along the ledge as the symbiote stirred, shifting over your body like a breath, fluid, black, seamless. You didn’t move until Natasha’s voice returned, lower now, meant only for you.
“Intercept, Pupsik (little doll), no kill.”
A grin pulled across your lips beneath the mask. “Copy that.” you murmured, the symbiote pulsing in excitement. “Finally.”
Then, without a sound, you vanished into the night. The man never saw you coming. One heartbeat he was running, lungs raw with adrenaline, the next, the sky above him shimmered strangely, and a shadow peeled from a wall and dropped like a guillotine. He barely had time to scream before he hit the concrete.
When the others arrived, he was already down pinned face-first in an alley, arms webbed behind him, legs wrapped tight in thick black strands. He wasn’t bleeding..for now. And you were crouched above him, body still humming with tension, mask split just enough to reveal a sharp, satisfied grin.
“No killing..” you said through the comms. “Didn’t say I couldn’t scare the shit out of him-”
“Enough.” came Natasha’s sharp reply. You didn’t move, but you rolled your eyes behind the mask, and somehow she felt it.
“I said let him go.”
There was a pause, the kind that pulled everyone tight. Behind you, Steve stepped forward. Tony hands hovered, and clint’s fingers brushed a fletching in his quiver. But Natasha didn’t flinch. She didn’t need to. She took a single step toward you, the sound of her boots crisp against the wet pavement. “Now.”
You exhaled through your nose, sharp, irritated but obeyed. The webbing retracted, peeling back from the man’s wrists and ankles as he collapsed into the waiting arms of SHIELD agents. They hauled him to the transport, but Natasha never looked away from you.
You rose slowly, the symbiote twitching with tiny, dissatisfied pulses across your shoulders. Rain slicked over the black suit like oil, catching in the light, your breath visible in the cold. You didn’t speak. Neither did she. Not until she stepped into your space and reached up, fingers brushing your jaw, lifting it gently but firmly.
“You did well.” she said, her voice low, intimate. A tone that was never meant for the team. The symbiote stilled, and your breath caught. And before you could stop yourself, you leaned into the touch.
“You didn’t like the order..” she murmured, almost indulgent. “But you followed it.”
You stared into her eyes, caught on the edge of something you couldn’t name. Your lips parted, but no sound came. She traced your cheekbone once with her thumb and said it, quietly, deliberately. “Good girl.”
The effect was immediate. The symbiote responded with a low, vibrating purr beneath your skin. Your shoulders dropped, breath shivering. There was no resistance left. Just instinct, submission, and ownership.
No one on the team spoke, they didn’t need to. They’d always suspected it: You didn’t answer to SHIELD. You answered to her.
And Natasha didn’t just control the girl..She controlled the monster too.
It hadn’t always been that way. Just three months ago, they found you alone in an abandoned HYDRA facility, not caged, not captured, but searching. You weren’t there by accident, you were looking for something, and you found it.
Not a weapon, nor intelligence..A suit. A living organism that had killed every other test subject. All of them, gone. All but you. You bonded with it. You fed it, let it in. It gave you strength, speed, power beyond anything the Avengers could measure. But it came with a hunger..
SHIELD tried to sedate you. Failed. Tried to trap you. Lost three agents. Then they stopped trying to contain the monster and sent something worse.
They sent their own spider.
She didn’t come with backup. She didn’t even come with a gun. She just walked into your cell and looked you in the eyes. No one knows what happened in that room. The feed went dark, and the audio failed. But when it came back, you were on your knees. And her hand was under your chin just like now.
——
Later that night, steam curled around Natasha’s shoulders as she stepped from the shower, skin flushed from heat rather than exertion. The mission had gone smoothly. No casualties, no mistakes. Because you had followed orders.
She dried her hair calmly, expecting to find you curled on her sheets with the symbiote twitching across your thigh, half-asleep and satisfied. But the room was cold.. No breathing, no note, ping, request. Just…silence. She stared at the space where you should’ve been. Then without a word, she picked up her phone and accessed SHIELD surveillance.
You were on your second whiskey when you felt her walk in. You didn’t turn, you didn’t have to. The suit stirred beneath your skin, like it recognized her before your brain could catch up. You cursed under your breath and took another sip, trying to look disinterested.
But Natasha slid onto the barstool beside you without hesitation, her presence like a knife pressed to the small of your back. “Did I say you could leave, Pupsik (little doll)?”
Her voice was calm, laced with dangerous amusement. You didn’t look at her. “Didn’t know I needed permission to exist off-mission.”
She waved a finger for the bartender. “Vodka straight.” Her gaze never left you. “You disappear without checking in. That’s not careless, that’s disobedient.”
You smirked into your glass. “Maybe I needed to unwind.”
She leaned closer, not touching, just enough for heat to press against your side. “You unwind when I let you.”
Your pulse jumped and the suit twitched at your jawline.
She noticed. “I know what this is.” she murmured, brushing your sleeve where the symbiote pulsed beneath it. “You think if you leave the Tower, you’re leaving me behind.”
Finally, you turned to her. “You think I’m afraid of you?”
“No.” she said, smile slow and cruel. “But I think you’re addicted.”
Her hand moved higher, ghosting over your pulse. “You crave the sound of my voice when you’re falling apart. You need the weight of it. The control.”
You looked forward again, breathing shallow. “You’re trying to embarrass me.”
She didn’t blink. “I’m reminding you who owns you.”
Your grip on the glass tightened. The symbiote flickered, a single tendril crawling along your collarbone. “Do you want to act like a brat in public?” Her breath brushed your ear. “Or do you want to behave and come with me?” The suit growled, and you gasped.
“Bathroom.” she said simply, standing. “Now.”
The moment the door clicked shut, everything changed. The energy coiled tight like a leash around your throat. Control snapped into place as Natasha turned the lock and just looked at you. That look..like fire, like steel sent a bolt of something low and hot through your spine.
“On the sink.” she said.
You moved before your mouth could argue. Braced yourself on the porcelain, breath already uneven. The mirror showed you in fragments, one glowing eye, your lips parted, pupils blown wide and behind you, she approached without hurry.
Her hands slid up your thighs, skimming over skin, never quite touching where you needed. “You didn’t ask to leave.” she said softly.
“I just needed-“
Her hand curled around your throat, squeezing it. Her thumb brushed the edge of the symbiote at your jaw. “You don’t leave my bed. You don’t leave the Tower. You don’t breathe unless I say.”
You whimpered as the suit curled tighter over your hips, desperate for her. She leaned in close. “You think a drink will get me out of your system?”
Her hand drifted between your thighs, but didn’t touch. “You think you can act out and not be punished?”
You shook your head, body shivering with need. The symbiote clawed for her, but she wasn’t finished. She spun you fast, bent you forward, and pinned you there. One hand pressed against your shoulder blades. The other hovered just out of reach, trailing between your thighs, over sensitive skin, slick and aching.
And still, no contact. “You think you’re in charge of when I touch you?” she whispered, lips at your ear.
You moaned, trying to push back against her, but she held you firm.
“Please..” you breathed, voice broken. “Natasha-please..”
Her smile curved against your skin. “You disobeyed.” Her fingers grazed your clit feather-light then withdrew. “You ran from me..”
Another pass., another denial. And you shattered, again, from nothing at all.
The suit was writhing now, black tendrils coiling up Natasha’s thighs like hungry fingers, dragging against her skin in an effort to pull her closer. It wasn’t just reacting, it was begging, just like you were, your body trembling under her touch, thighs slick, breath hitched.
“You don’t get to come.” she murmured, voice sharp as glass, “until you remember who you belong to.”
Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. The words made your whole body tighten, hips rolling forward in reflex, desperate for more contact. But you forced your voice to hold steady..or tried to.
“I know who I belong to..” you whispered, barely audible over the roar of your pulse.
Natasha’s fingers gripped your chin, tilting your face toward the cracked mirror in front of you. “Then look in the mirror.” she said simply.
You did, and what you saw nearly undid you. You looked wrecked, mouth parted, pupils blown, eyes glassy with need. You looked like something wild..something tamed only for her. And Natasha? She stood behind you, composed and immaculate, lips parted slightly as if the whole scene were just mildly entertaining. She was completely calm and in control.
“Say it.” she told you, voice low but firm. You hesitated, staring at her reflection behind you, at the woman who could command monsters with a whisper. She didn’t say it again.
She didn’t have to. Your voice cracked as you breathed the words out. “I belong to you..”
She didn’t smile, didn’t even nod. She just leaned forward and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the back of your neck. “Good girl.”
And then, finally she touched you. Not a tease or a threat, but a promise delivered. The words weren’t just praise. They were the trigger.
The second they left her mouth, something inside you snapped. Your body jolted under her touch like you’d been shocked, hips jerking back instinctively, spine arching without conscious thought. You couldn’t hold yourself still even if you’d wanted to and you didn’t. You wanted to move. You wanted her.
The suit responded like it had been waiting. Tendrils surged around her wrist, wrapping, clinging, pulsing with raw energy. They slithered over your thighs, slick and shaking, trying to pull her deeper and closer. You were already soaked, and the symbiote slicked your skin like sweat, glistening in the fluorescent light of the bathroom.
And Natasha? She gave in. Her hand moved between your legs with devastating precision, no longer hovering or taunting. She slid two fingers inside you in one smooth, unforgiving thrust, and your mouth dropped open around a strangled cry. There was no build up, no mercy.
You gripped the sink so hard your knuckles cracked, forehead thudding softly against the mirror as your body lurched forward.
“Natasha- f-fuck- please!” But she didn’t answer, not with words. Her free hand gripped your hip, grounding you as she worked her fingers deeper, thrusting in slow, measured strokes. Every motion was surgical. Like she was building you up just to break you properly. There was no rushing her. No escaping her. She was in full control, and she wanted you to feel it.
You whimpered, high and broken, grinding back against her hand, chasing every movement, but it still wasn’t enough.
“Stay still.” she warned softly.
But you couldn’t. You were unraveling fast, muscles shaking, legs nearly giving out beneath you. Each thrust was dragging another piece of you loose, until all you could do was cling to the edge of the sink and pray you didn’t fall.
“You want more?” she asked, voice low against your neck, like smoke curling over your skin.
You nodded frantically, no pride left. Only desperation. “Say it.”
“More..please..! Fuck- I need..”
“Need what?” Her fingers never slowed. But her voice turned teasing. “Need to come?”
Your only answer was a moan, so raw and aching it didn’t sound human. The symbiote surged again, matching the sound, wrapping your thighs like it wanted to hold you open for her.
“Then ask.” she said, still calm.
You tried to resist, tried to grit your teeth and keep some shred of control, but you were gone. Nothing existed beyond her hand inside you, her voice in your ear, the weight of her restraint around your throat.
“Please, please, Natasha! Let me-”
The plea dissolved mid-sentence as your body jerked against her, and she granted you mercy. Her fingers shifted, curling just right, and she added a third.
You didn’t scream loudly, but you shattered. It ripped through you like fire, hips bucking, muscles locking, thighs trembling as the orgasm hit hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. Your forehead slipped from the mirror. Your knees buckled, and your grip on the sink gave way.
There was no anchor, no control..Just her. Her fingers inside you, still moving, slow now, guiding you through every pulse, every helpless twitch, every sob that slipped free of your throat.
The symbiote growled low, echoing your release like it had climaxed with you, tendrils shivering beneath your skin. “That’s it..” Natasha whispered, her voice almost gentle now. “Let go.”
You did. You were sobbing now, breath catching, body slack and shaking in her arms. And Natasha? She barely looked winded. She watched you with quiet satisfaction, her hand still buried between your legs, her touch unshaken, her control total. Her expression didn’t shift, not in pride, not in pity.
Just content, as if everything was exactly how it was supposed to be, because it was. You belonged to her, and she had reminded you exactly what that meant.
Natasha pulled her fingers out slowly, watching as the slick clung to her knuckles. The symbiote curled around them like a pet, possessive and pulsing, it didn’t want to let her go.
“Messy girl..” she murmured, voice low, more amused than scolding. You slumped forward over the sink, legs barely holding your weight, breath coming in uneven gasps. Your entire body felt limp, each nerve fried, every muscle boneless, but her hand stayed.
Her palm slid up the curve of your spine, moving slowly, soothingly, until it settled at the back of your neck. “You don’t leave without asking.” Natasha said softly, her tone the same it had been during interrogation missions.
You managed a small, breathless nod. “You don’t run from me.” Another nod, weaker than the first, your chest still heaving against the cold porcelain.
And then, in the quietest voice you had left, cracked and hoarse, you said it. “I’m yours..”
Natasha leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, just above where the suit pulsed with aftershocks of pleasure. “You always have been.”
There was no other sound in the room, just the ragged echo of your breathing, too shallow to calm, too wet to mask the emotion still choking you. The mirror was fogged and fractured, your reflection fragmented and distant. The symbiote twitched across your back, slower now, less frantic. Still humming from release.
Natasha then saw the first tendril appearing. It slipped from your lower back, slick and slow, reaching not toward the door or the mirror, but toward her. It curled along the floor, inching toward her ankle like a child reaching for its mother. Natasha smiled at the sight.
“Still hungry?” she asked, tilting her head.
Another soft sound came from your throat, half-moan, half-sob, and another tendril slipped out, a thinner one this time, trembling in the air, stretching toward her without direction, as if it could smell her.
“You’re pathetic like this..” she said softly, voice barely above a whisper. Your breath hitched in response, but the tendrils didn’t recoil.
They twitched faster. She hovered slowly, like approaching a creature that still remembered how to bite. Her fingers extended, just two at first, and the symbiote rushed to meet them.
The tendrils wrapped instantly around her knuckles. They stroked her wrist, wound up her hand, pulsed against her skin like they were trying to draw her back in. Her laugh was quiet.
“You want me that badly?”
She stroked one of the tendrils with lazy fingers, winding it around in a slow spiral until it tightened against her hand like a leash. Then she pulled, and your body responded instantly.
Your knees buckled, thighs parting again without thought, hips jerking toward the pressure like the signal bypassed your brain entirely. Natasha watched you with practiced detachment, reading every movement, every weakness.
She stepped closer, one hand sliding up between your shoulder blades before she turned you. Your back hit the wall, and your legs nearly gave out. The suit had begun peeling away again, curling back like velvet receding into shadow. It left streaks of moisture on your skin, dark and glistening, like it was licking its wounds.
You looked utterly destroyed. Tear tracks streaked your cheeks. Your lips were red, bitten raw. Your eyes were glassy and unfocused, lashes damp, mascara smudged.
Natasha loved it. “Look at you, baby..”she whispered, tilting your chin with one finger.
You didn’t resist, didn’t blink, nor speak. You just looked. Her fingers slid along your cheek, tracing down to your jaw, over the curve of your throat. The suit pulsed beneath your skin where she touched, a slow rhythm that mirrored your unsteady breathing.
“Fucked out, barely breathing. Still twitching for more.”
Another tendril eased forward, hesitant, shy almost. Just reaching for her. Natasha caught it mid-air with one hand, brought it close to her mouth, and smiled again.
“You’re both so needy.”
And then she kissed it. Just a soft press of lips against the trembling flesh. The symbiote shivered violently in her grip, and a moan broke from your throat, uncontrolled, aching. Your head tipped back against the wall as if the contact alone was too much.
Natasha leaned in, nose brushing along your jawline, voice low and close to your ear.
“Next time..” she murmured, “you’ll ask before you disappear.” You nodded..barely.
“Say it.”
“…I’ll ask.”
Her lips curved. “Good girl.” She let go of the tendril, and it fell limp against your thigh, still twitching softly, drained and sated.
Natasha stepped back, zipped her jacket in one clean motion. “Clean yourself up.” she said over her shoulder, her tone crisp again, “You’re sleeping in my bed tonight.”
Then she walked away, without looking back. And you were still there, slumped against the tiled wall, trembling, breath ragged. The symbiote curled gently around your waist, slow and quiet now, but still present.
Still wrapped around you like a leash no one else could see. Because no matter how far you ran, no matter how hard you fought it..You belonged to her.
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