The Widow's Glitch
$ log - you, an engineer, modded natasha romanov's suit, and she's testing them out on a stealth op! $ warn --nsfw --dubcon(heavy) --dom!gn!reader --sub!natasha --p-in-v --positions(doggy, standing) --sensory-overload --sensory-deprivation --sex-toys(vibrator, remotes) --clit-play --public-sex --orgasm-control --groping --accidental-polyamory --nipple-play --humiliation(heavy) --debauchery --clothing-manipulation --voyeurism --praise --teasing $ wc -w 4.3k $ cd masterlist / natasha-romanov # authors-note = I do this for my squad, I do this for my gang
The drone’s feed was crisp, a silent, hovering god watching the shadows of the Lower East Side. On your tablet, the HUD flickered with telemetry, but your eyes were fixed on the thermal heat signature of Natasha Romanoff. She was moving through the narrow alleyway, a silhouette of lethal grace, but you noticed the slight hitch in her stride. A subtle tremor in her hands.
"Defences are holding steady, Nat," you murmured into the private comms, your thumb lazily hovering over the 'Intensity' slider on the suit on the screen. "The plating is reinforced, just like we discussed. No structural weaknesses."
A sharp, stifled gasp crackled through your earpiece, followed by the sound of her back hitting a damp brick wall. On the drone cam, you saw her arch her spine, her head tilting back as her eyes fluttered shut. You didn't wait for her to respond; instead, you slid the toggle for the nipple stimulators up a notch.
"Nat? You okay? Your heart rate just spiked," you teased, your voice dropping an octave as you watched her chest heave.
"Fine — just a momentary — distraction," she hissed, her voice strained, fighting to keep the tremor out of her tone. She was pressed against the cold, grime streaked wall, her legs trembling as the suit’s internal motors began to hum against her sensitive peaks.
You leaned back in your chair, a smirk playing on your lips. You decided to to see just how much of that "Black Widow" composure you could strip away. You swiped a finger across the screen, activating the clitoral pulse setting.
On the monitor, Natasha’s knees buckled. She scrambled into the deepest shadow of a recessed doorway, her gloved hands scraping against the rough concrete as she tried to steady herself. Her breath was coming in ragged, shallow bursts, the sound of her struggle echoing in your ears like a siren song.
"Shhh, keep it down, Nat," you whispered, your eyes devouring the sight of her hips twitching rhythmically against the suit's interior. "You’ve got a patrol passing by the main street just twenty feet away. You wouldn't want them to hear how much you're enjoying your new 'upgrades,' would you?"
"You bastard," she managed to choke out, her head lulling back against the brick. Her eyes were glazed, her usual sharp intelligence replaced by a raw, desperate hunger. You watched through the high definition drone feed as she finally gave in, her legs sliding down the wall until she was slumped in the dirt of the alley, her knees spread wide in a posture of total, uncharacteristic vulnerability.
The suit’s sleek, dark fabric strained against her thighs, the subtle vibration of the clitoral stimulator visible in the rhythmic, frantic twitching of her hips.
"Spread for me, Nat," you commanded softly, your thumb dancing over the tablet to increase the frequency to a punishing, delicious blur. "Let the drone get a better look. Your clit is that sensitive, isn't it? Look at you — the world's deadliest spy, reduced to a shivering mess in a fucking gutter because of a few lines of code."
A broken, high pitched moan escaped her lips, a sound of pure surrender that she couldn't stifle anymore. She looked up toward the drone, her eyes wide and shimmering with a cocktail of frustration and overwhelming ecstasy. She was staring directly into the lens of the hovering drone, her face flushed a deep, beautiful crimson in the dim urban light.
The professional, untouchable Black Widow was gone; in her place was a woman caught in the throes of a sensory overload she couldn't fight, her hips bucking instinctively against the relentless, buzzing rhythm you were dictating from your chair.
"That's it," you purred, watching the telemetry data on your screen go haywire as her arousal peaked. "Show me how much you love the new tech, Nat. Don't hold back on my account. The street is quiet — for now."
With one final, decisive swipe, you maxed out the intensity. Natasha’s entire body jolted, her back arching so violently it looked painful, a silent, wide mouthed scream of pleasure frozen on her lips as she succumbed to a shattering climax.
Her body shuddered in a long, violent tremor, her fingers digging into the gravel of the alley floor as the waves of the climax rippled through her. The suit’s haptic feedback sensors were screaming on your tablet, recording the frantic, rhythmic contractions of her pelvic floor as she fought to regain her breath. She slumped forward, her forehead resting against the cool, damp brick, her chest heaving so hard you could see the fabric of the suit straining with every desperate lungful of air.
"There we go," you murmured, your voice a low, satisfied hum as you watched the telemetry stabilise from the peak. "Mission accomplished, Widow. You look a little dishevelled. Should we dial it back to 'standard' mode, or do you want to see if we can break your record?"
A low, shaky laugh half frustrated and half delighted bubbled up from her throat. "You are a menace," she panted
" — but don't you dare think you're getting off easy," she finished, her voice a sultry, breathless rasp that sent a thrill straight down your spine.
She slowly pushed herself up against the wall, her movements uncharacteristically heavy and uncoordinated, her legs still trembling from the aftershocks of the climax you had forced out of her.
Even through the grainy, low light drone feed, you could see the predatory glint returning to her eyes, though it was softened by a layer of sheer, unadulterated lust. She wiped a stray tear of pleasure from the corner of her eye and straightened her suit, though the fabric still clung to her damp, flushed skin in a way that made her look utterly wrecked.
"Next time you decide to play god with my nervous system, Engineer, make sure you're ready to handle the fallout when I get back to base." She gave a sharp, playful wink toward the hovering camera, a silent challenge that told you'd be the one in the crosshairs.
You grinned, leaning back in your chair and tapping a final command to dim the stimulators to a low, teasing hum. "I'll hold you to that, Nat," you replied, your voice thick with anticipation. "But for now, try to keep your eyes on the target. You've still got a mission to finish, even if you are walking a little — unsteady."
On the screen, you watched her take a deep, stabilising breath, her expression shifting back into that mask of lethal professionalism, though the slight tremble in her hands and the flush on her neck betrayed the absolute chaos you'd just unleashed within her.
The comms channel was a mess of static and heavy, ragged breathing. You weren't even looking at the monitors anymore; you had the tablet propped up on the desk, your eyes half lidded as you focused on the rhythm of the music playing in your ears, treating Natasha’s vocalisations like a live remix. You were lazily swirling a cherry lollipop against your cheek, your thumb dancing over the screen in a rhythmic, DJ like motion. Tap, slide, and hold.
Her voice came through, a broken, desperate rasp that made your blood hum. "Fuck — please, just come get me. The tech — it's too much. Just — come fuck me. Please."
She was lost. You could hear it in the audio. She was a mess of sensory overload, her legendary composure shattered into a thousand pieces by the relentless, buzzing frequency you were dialing in.
In the dim, grimy light of the alley, Natasha had completely abandoned all tactical pretence. She was draped chest first over a raised metal platform, her hips bucking rhythmically against the edge. She was grinding her aching, hyper sensitive nipples against the cold surface, desperate to find some semblance of friction to match the internal storm you were brewing. "God, it's so deep — the sensation — it's too much." she whimpered, her voice a frantic, breathless prayer.
You didn't even look at the drone feed. You were too busy, your eyes closed, feeling the vibration of her moans through your headset. You decided to switch up the tempo, your thumb sliding a fader on the tablet to increase the sheer toggle intensity.
You wanted to see the feature work. You wanted to see the way her skin flushed under the pressure, so you slid your thumb across the lower quadrant of the screen, activating the translucent mode for her pelvic region. You weren't watching the screen, but you felt the satisfaction of the command landing.
What you didn't realise was that in the dim, shadow drenched alley, that sudden shift to sheer fabric had perfectly framed her weeping, swollen entrance for a passing patrol guard. He had stopped dead in his tracks, his breath catching as he saw the legendary Black Widow bent over a platform, her suit rendered transparent over a soaking, trembling vulva that was twitching in time with the vibrations.
"Fuck," the guard whispered, his eyes widening as he realised she was completely oblivious, lost in a trance of artificial ecstasy. He didn't hesitate in stepping into the shadows, his heavy boots silent on the damp pavement.
Natasha let out a long, shuddering moan, her let out a long, shuddering moan, her head lulling back as a heavy, warm weight suddenly pressed against her backside. She didn't even flinch at the sudden contact; in her haze, she simply assumed it was the suit's haptic feedback intensifying, or perhaps a new, deeper pulse you had programmed to drive her over the edge.
When the guard’s thick, unyielding length suddenly tore through the weakened seam of the stimulator mechanism, forcing its way into her soaking heat, Natasha let out a sharp, startled gasp that quickly melted into a delirious cry of pleasure. "Yes, fuck — right there — god, that's so much bigger," she whimpered, her fingers clawing at the metal platform as the guard began a relentless, punishing rhythm.
Back in the control room, you were completely oblivious to the intruder. You were lost in the "mix," your eyes closed as you leaned back, the lollipop stick bobbing between your lips, your thumb still sliding across the tablet in a slow, hypnotic groove.
You were chasing the perfect sonic peak, oblivious to the fact that the wet, rhythmic slapping sound filling your headset wasn't coming from the suit's internal motors, but from the raw, carnal friction of a stranger's pelvis slamming into her.
"Oh god, you're — you're so aggressive tonight," Natasha sobbed, her voice cracking as the guard gripped her hips with bruising force, his fingers digging into the sheer, translucent fabric you had so casually toggled on.
She was a prisoner of her own pleasure, her mind so thoroughly hijacked by the high frequency buzzing at her clit that she couldn't distinguish the man's heavy, desperate thrusts from the mechanical pulses you were sending her way. Every time he bottomed out, hitting her cervix with a blunt, punishing force, she let out a jagged, high pitched keen as if the suit itself was trying to break her.
You, meanwhile, were in a trance of your own, a smirk playing on your lips as you felt the haptic feedback sensors on your tablet spiking in a way you hadn't quite programmed. The data was erratic, violent, and incredibly intense.
"You're really pushing the limits today, aren't you, Nat?" you murmured, your voice a low, teasing purr as you slid your thumb up the screen, accidentally increasing the vibration frequency just as the guard let out a guttural grunt, his pace turning frantic and desperate.
The sound of his heavy, ragged breathing bled into the comms, a low frequency rumble that you mistook for the hum of the drone's motor. Natasha was completely gone, her vision swimming, her entire world reduced to the sensation of being filled, stretched, and pulverized. "Don't stop — please, don't stop —"
Tap. Slide. Tap.
"You're doing so good, Nat," you murmured, your voice a low teasing purr as you slid your thumb across the screen, intensifying the vibration to a frantic, buzzing blur.
In the alley, the guard let out a choked, animalistic sound, his hands sliding under her hips to tilt her pelvis up, presenting her even more brazenly to the dim light. He was hammering into her now, his thrusts deep and uncoordinated, driven by the sheer sight of her weeping, translucent vulva being driven to madness by your tech.
Natasha’s world was a kaleidoscope of white heat and heavy, rhythmic thuds. She felt the sudden, violent expansion inside her, the way her walls were being stretched to their absolute limit, but her mind, clouded by the high frequency stimulation you were pumping into her clit, simply categorised it as the ultimate 'upgrade.'
"Oh god, you're — you're so heavy," she wailed, her voice a jagged mess of ecstasy and confusion, her hips bucking wildly against the intruder's frantic pace. She was a woman lost in a storm of her own making, her consciousness fractured between the high tech ecstasy you were broadcasting and the raw, primal reality of the man currently claiming her.
The guard was nearing his limit, his breath coming in hot, jagged snatches against the back of her neck as he drove himself into her one last time, his entire body tensing as he spilled himself deep inside her.
Natasha's eyes rolled back, her entire frame shuddering in a massive, soul shattering climax that felt like it was tearing her apart from the inside out.
Back in the control room, you finally opened your eyes, a satisfied grin spreading across your face as the telemetry data on your tablet flatlined into a beautiful, chaotic mess of post climax. You finally looked up at the drone feed, the lollipop stick poking out of the corner of your mouth as you took a slow, thoughtful lick.
The screen showed a wrecked, trembling Black Widow slumped over the metal edge, her breathing coming in ragged, uneven hitches. She looked absolutely devastated and utterly satisfied. You didn't see the man scurrying away into the shadows of the alley, nor did you hear the frantic, heavy footsteps of a guard retreating in a daze.
All you saw was the telemetry indicating a massive, sustained spike in her pelvic contractions, a level of arousal that should have been physically impossible.
"Damn, Nat," you chuckled, leaning back and stretching your arms behind your head, the tablet resting casually on your thigh. "I didn't know you had that much in you. That was one hell of a performance."
Through the comms, all you heard was the wet, shaky sound of her trying to find her voice.
"You're a fucking monster," she finally managed to choke out, her voice a wet, breathless wreck of a sound that vibrated with the aftershocks of a pleasure so intense it felt like a bruise.
You could hear the way her lungs were struggling to pull in air, the sound of her skin sticking to the metal platform as she tried to push herself up. She sounded utterly defeated, a legendary spy reduced to a shivering, weeping mess by your "modifications."
You just chuckled, the sound low and satisfied, as you reached for your lollipop again. "Maybe," you conceded, your eyes scanning the now stabilizing telemetry data with a predatory sort of pride. "But you have to admit, the feedback was incredible. The way your heart rate spiked — it was like you were being electrified. We might have to recalibrate the intensity for the next op, just to see if we can push you even further."
On the screen, she finally managed to pull herself up, her movements slow and uncoordinated, her legs trembling so violently she had to lean her weight against the dumpster just to stay upright.
Even through the grainy drone feed, you could see the way the suit's fabric clung to her, damp with a mixture of sweat and the evidence of her intense, messy release. She looked completely undone, her hair a tangled mess, her lips swollen and wet, her eyes glazed with a lingering, beautiful confusion.
"Next time — " she panted, her voice dropping to a sultry, dangerous rasp that made your blood hum, " — you better be there in person to witness the 'recalibration.' Because if you think you can just play with my body from a goddamn control room and not face the consequences, you're even more delusional than you are sadistic."
She gave a weak, shaky smirk toward the camera a flicker of the old, sassy Black Widow returning through the haze of her arousal before she finally began to stalk to the laboratory.
The control room was silent, save for the low hum of the servers and the rhythmic clack clack of your fingers dancing across the holographic schematics of the enemy lab. You were focused, mapping out the electrical conduits, a half eaten lollipop resting against your cheek. Through the comms, Natasha’s voice came through, breathless and teasing, though you could hear the slight tremor she was trying to hide.
"Seriously? StarkMotors? Is that what we’re calling the tech now?" she huffed, her voice echoing in the pitch black corridor she was currently navigating. "The haptics are a little — aggressive tonight. Are you trying to distract me or just punish me for that last mission?"
You grinned, a wicked glint in your eyes. "Maybe a little of both, Widow. You were the one complaining about the 'build quality.' Consider this a stress test."
With a lazy, nonchalant swipe of your thumb, you dialed the clitoral stimulator up to a steady, pulsing buzz.
"There," you murmured, your eyes never leaving the electrical grid. "Just making sure the sensors are calibrated for the dark. Don't lose your focus, Nat."
A sharp, choked gasp erupted in your ear, followed by the sound of her back hitting the cold, metallic wall of the hallway. "God damn you," she hissed, her voice dropping into a sultry, desperate rasp. "You're — you're really playing with the settings tonight, aren't you?"
“Hey, you’re the one that brought them up again.” You murmured with a shrug, focusing on the screen nearby.
In the pitch black corridor, the guard didn't even have time to wonder why she was trembling on the path. Is this sort of a dirty guardian angel appearing in his lonely path? The same one kept appearing on his exact patrol routes tonight, shaking and begging for someone to fuck her. He might as well make do.
He only saw the silhouette of her hips, the way her breath came in ragged, shallow hitches, and the unmistakable, wet scent of her arousal. He moved like a man possessed, sliding into the small, jagged rip in her suit the small, jagged rip in her suit and burying himself deep inside her.
The sensation was sudden and overwhelming, a thick, heavy intrusion that sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core. Natasha’s head snapped back against the wall, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as a long, shuddering moan tore from her throat.
"Oh, god," she gasped, her fingers clawing at the smooth metal of the wall. " the — the haptic feedback, it's so intense — it feels so — real — "
She didn't realise the 'feedback' had a pulse, or that the heavy, rhythmic thudding against her pelvis was the sound of a man’s hips slamming into hers. To her, it was just another masterful tweak of the suit's programming.
When the guard’s large, calloused hand reached around to squeeze her breast, kneading the soft flesh with a hungry, possessive grip, the way her thigh was hooked up, lifting her hips to meet his frantic, heavy thrusts.
To Natasha, it was just another seamless integration of the suit’s exoskeleton, a clever bit of remote stabilisation to keep her upright while her legs felt like jelly. "The — the stabilisation is incredible," she whimpered, her voice breaking as the guard’s fingers dug into her breast, pulling her back against his hard chest to deepen the angle. "Did you add a manual override for the — the tactile sensation? It feels so heavy."
You chuckled, leaning back and tapping a rhythmic beat on the console, completely oblivious to the wet, slapping sounds of skin meeting skin echoing through the comms. You were too busy watching the power surges on your monitor. "Just optimising the user experience, Nat. Stay focused. You're almost at the main lab."
"Hard to — focus — " she gasped, her hips bucking wildly as the guard let out a low, guttural groan of pure, unadulterated lust. The man was lost in her, his hands working her body with a desperate, frantic energy, but Natasha was too far gone in her own sensory heaven to notice the difference between a machine and a man. Every time he drove himself home, she felt a surge of artificial ecstasy, convinced that you were just pushing the haptic limits of the suit to their absolute breaking point.
"— the — the pressure —" she sobbed, her voice a broken melody of pleasure as the guard's teeth grazed the shell of her ear. "It's so — thick — so much — more than the last time —"
"Just a little more calibration, Nat," you replied casually, your fingers flying across the tablet to adjust the voltage on the suit's internal heating elements.
You heard the wet, rhythmic slap slap slap of her body being driven forward, and you just thought of it as a particularly aggressive haptic pulse. "Keep your eyes on the prize, Widow. We're almost there."
As the man reached his limit, his thrusts becoming short, punishing stabs that drove her face into the cold wall, Natasha felt a massive, surging wave of heat bloom deep within her.
She thought it was a thermal surge in the suit's core, a programmed climax meant to reward her progress. She let out a long, high pitched wail of pure, unadulterated ecstasy, her internal muscles clamping down hard around the stranger's length in a desperate, rhythmic pulse.
In the control room, you leaned back, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips as you watched the biometric sensors on your screen spike into the red. "There we go," you murmured, tapping the tablet one last time to a final, triumphant little beat. "Calibration complete. You're looking good, Nat. Heart rate's a little high, but that's to be expected with the new stim settings."
In the dark, the guard let out a choked, strangled cry, his body shuddering violently as he spilled himself deep inside her, his much more primal, heavy rhythm finally breaking into a frantic, desperate shudder. Natasha's entire world was a white hot blur of sensation. She felt the sudden, intense warmth flooding her pussy, a sensation so deep and so overwhelming that she thought the suit's internal thermal regulators had finally peaked.
She slumped against the wall, her legs trembling so violently she could barely stand, her breath coming in ragged, sobbing gasps.
Her head lolls to the side as the man quietly, breathlessly pulled himself out of her and retreated into the shadows of the hallway. "That — that was the best calibration yet." she trailed off, her eyes rolling back in her head as the aftershocks of the "thermal surge" rippled through her core.
She was a trembling, weeping mess, her thighs slick and her skin flushed a deep, feverish red, completely unaware that the warmth pooling inside her wasn't a malfunction, but the hot, heavy seed of a man who had just been granted the ultimate prize.
"Glad you liked it," you replied, your voice smooth and teasing as you swiped through a new set of electrical schematics, totally satisfied with your handiwork. "Now, shake it off, Widow. We've still got a lab to infiltrate. Try to keep your composure, okay? You sound a little —unravelled."
Natasha let out a shaky, breathless laugh, leaning her forehead against the cold metal wall to steady her racing heart. "Unravelled? Please. It's just the — the haptic feedback hitting a little too hard —"
She let out a long, shuddering exhale, trying to force her trembling thighs to steady themselves. She could feel a strange, heavy warmth settling deep in her pelvis, a viscous sensation that felt far more organic than any thermal regulator you could have programmed. It was thick, pulsing, and incredibly intimate, but she just chalked it up to the suit's high intensity discharge.
"Just give me a second to — recalibrate my own sensors," she managed to choke out, a dizzy, lopsided grin tugging at her lips as she wiped a stray tear of pure, unadulterated pleasure from her cheek. She stood there for a moment, a legendary assassin leaning against a dark hallway wall, her body still humming with the phantom echoes of a man's climax, all while she waited for your next command, completely oblivious to the absolute, erotic absurdity of it all.
She was a walking, breathing testament to your "engineering" genius. A woman so thoroughly conquered by a ghost in the machine that she didn't even realise she'd just been claimed by the enemy.
"Ready when you are, Boss," she finally whispered, her voice still thick with the afterglow of a climax that wasn't even hers to claim, stepping forward into the darkness with a heavy, slick stride that she mistook for nothing more than a temporary loss of muscle tension.
$ tag @twentytomidnight
$ join taglist
$ cd masterlist / natasha-romanov
