CONQUEST
- Natasha Romanoff
pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader
summary: She got caught.
tags/warnings: smut, fluff, top!reader, dom reader, g!p reader, bottom!natasharomanoff, sub natasha romanoff
author's note: i love me some bottom nat.
word count: 3324
The hum of the repulsor lifts faded from my ears, replaced by the rhythmic thud of my own heart against my ribs. Sweat slicked my skin, a testament to the brutal hour I’d just put in at the tower’s gym. Super serum coursed through my veins, not just giving me the strength of a goddess, but the body to match – tall, muscular, every curve defined, and between my legs, a dick that could rival any man’s. I felt good, powerful, and utterly spent, my mind already drifting to a cold shower and a protein shake.
My bare feet, still buzzing from the last set of sprints, carried me down the polished hallway, the stark white walls a familiar blur. The tower was quiet, most of the team either out on missions or holed up in their labs. Then, a sound. Faint at first, a whisper of something familiar, something primal. I paused, my head tilting, straining to catch it again. It was coming from Natasha’s room, a few doors down.
A soft gasp, then a low, throaty moan. My name. “Y/N”. Said with a desperate longing that sent a shiver through me, not from cold, but from something far hotter. My lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. Cocky? Absolutely. I knew the effect I had on people, especially the women of this tower. Natasha, though usually composed, always had a certain flush about her when I was near. This… this was beyond mere flush.
I crept closer, my movements silent, a predator stalking its prey. The moans grew louder, more insistent, a symphony of pleasure building behind the closed door. “Y/N… oh, Y/N…” Her voice, usually so sharp and controlled, was now a ragged plea, stretched thin by desire. A thrill, sharp and exhilarating, shot through me. This was too good to pass up.
The door was ajar, just a sliver. I pushed it open gently, no sound, no creak. The room was bathed in the soft, warm glow of bedside lamps. And there she was. Natasha. Her back was to me, her body arched, ass high in the air, face buried in a pillow, her legs spread slightly, clad only in a tiny pair of black lace panties that barely covered anything. Her fingers were tangled in the sheets, knuckles white. She was moving, grinding against something, lost in her own private world of fantasy. My fantasy, apparently.
A low chuckle rumbled in my chest, a sound I barely suppressed. This was perfect. My hand dropped to my sweatpants, pulling them down just enough to free the heavy, rigid length of my cock. It sprang forth, tall and thick, already slick with pre-cum, practically throbbing in anticipation. I moved silently, one long stride bringing me to the edge of her bed. She still hadn’t noticed me, lost in her rhythmic humps, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
I positioned myself behind her, my cock a warm, hard spear aimed precisely at the wet, beckoning slit between her cheeks. Her panties were already damp, clinging to her, practically begging for me to tear them away. But I wouldn’t. Not yet. The shock would be better. The surprise.
I pulled them aside and with a slow, deliberate push, I slid in.
A sharp, strangled cry tore from her throat. Her body seized, stiffening instantly, every muscle locked. The rhythmic humps stopped. She gasped, a sound of pure disbelief, her head snapping up from the pillow, eyes wide and unfocused. Then, slowly, painstakingly, she turned her head, her deep green eyes finding mine.
Her face, flushed crimson from her solo escapade, drained of all color. Her mouth hung open, a silent O of shock. My cock, buried deep inside her, pulsed with every beat of my heart, a constant reminder of my presence. Her ass, still high, quivered around me, a sweet, tight embrace.
“Well, well, well,” I murmured, my voice a low growl, a predatory purr. I leaned in closer, my breath ghosting over her ear, the scent of her arousal, sweet and musky, filling my nostrils. “Where’s your moaning of my name now, Black Widow?”
She just stared, her eyes flicking from my face to my dick, which was now fully impaling her. A tremor ran through her. She tried to speak, a choked sound escaping her lips, but no words formed.
“I want you to scream it,” I continued, my voice firm, commanding. “I want you to scream my name so loud, the whole damn tower hears it. I want Thor to hear it from Asgard. I want the world to know who owns you.”
I pulled back, almost entirely, just the head of my cock teasing her entrance, then plunged back in, hard and fast. A genuine scream tore from her. Her nails dug into the sheets, her back arching even further, a guttural sound ripping from her throat.
“That’s it,” I praised, my hips beginning a slow, deliberate rhythm. “Scream it for me, Tasha. Tell me you want it.”
She couldn’t form words, not yet. Only sounds. Deep, throaty moans, punctuated by sharp gasps as I picked up the pace. My cock, thick and full, stretched her, filled her, scraping against her internal walls with every thrust. Her tight pussy gripped me, a warm, wet vise that threatened to milk me dry too soon.
My hands found her hips, pulling her back against me, aligning our bodies perfectly. I started to pound, a relentless, primal rhythm. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed in the room, wet and resonant. Her ass cheeks slapped against my thighs, a steady percussion to our escalating symphony.
“Say it,” I demanded, my voice husky, my own breath coming in ragged gasps now. “Say my name, Natasha.”
“Y… Y/N… oh God, Y/N…” The words finally tumbled out, broken and desperate, laced with pleasure and surrender. Her head lolled back, her eyes fluttering closed, her body now moving with me, not against me.
“Louder,” I urged, my cock driving deeper, faster. “I can barely hear you.”
She screamed it, a raw, unrestrained sound that vibrated through the room, through my very bones. “Y/N! Oh, fuck! Y/N! Yes! Please! More!”
I grinned, a feral, triumphant grin. This was the Natasha I knew was hidden beneath the cool, collected spy persona. This was the woman who craved control, now utterly out of it, at my mercy. I kept going, my thrusts becoming a blur of motion, my hips slamming into her ass, the bed groaning under our combined weight. Her pussy was a slick, hot cavern, swallowing my cock whole, begging for more. The air around us grew thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and impending orgasm.
She bucked, her back arching violently, her hips pushing back against mine, trying to meet my every thrust. Her legs trembled, her toes curling. A low, guttural growl escaped her, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Her body went rigid again, a full-body tremor shaking her.
“I’m… I’m going to… oh, Y/N!” she choked out, her voice cracking.
I felt her pussy clench around me, a series of exquisite contractions that sent shivers down my spine. Her internal muscles milked my cock, pulling at the head, making me groan. I held her hips tight, pinning her to the bed, and pumped a few more powerful thrusts, feeling the surge of my own climax building, hot and undeniable.
With a final, desperate cry, her body convulsed, her hips slamming back against me as she rode out her orgasm. I felt the wetness gush from her, hot and slick, coating my shaft. Her cries turned into whimpers, her body collapsing onto the bed, utterly spent.
My own climax hit me moments later, a wave of intense pleasure that washed over me, making me shake. I groaned, as I emptied myself deep inside her, a hot, thick torrent of cum filling her pussy. I collapsed onto her back, my chest heaving, my cock still buried deep, throbbing, slowly deflating.
We lay there for a long moment, our breaths ragged, the only sounds in the room the creak of the bed and our racing heartbeats. My body was heavy, sated, but the energy still hummed beneath my skin.
“Well,” I whispered, my lips brushing her ear, “that was quite the welcome.”
She didn’t respond, her body still trembling. I pulled out slowly, the wet sound of my cock leaving her pussy a loud sound in the sudden quiet. She whimpered softly as I withdrew, a tiny sound of loss. I flipped her over gently, pulling her into my arms. Her eyes, still hazy with post-orgasmic bliss, met mine. A faint blush returned to her cheeks.
“You’re… you’re impossible,” she mumbled, her voice hoarse.
I just smiled, stroking her hair. “And you love it.”
She didn’t deny it, just nestled her head into my shoulder, her hand finding my dick, now soft but still sensitive, tracing its length. “So… that was one round. You said you wanted me to scream it for the whole tower. I think I only managed to get half the floor.”
“Oh, we’ll get there,” I promised, my voice a low rumble. “We have all night.”
And we did. We went for two more rounds, each one more intense than the last. I made her ride me, her small body arching over mine, her nipples hard, rub against my chest which grew my desire to suck them. I flipped her again, taking her from behind, her ass a perfect target for my relentless thrusts. Each time, her screams grew louder, more uninhibited, until by the third time, I was sure Clint could hear her from the vents in the next hallway. By the time the first rays of dawn peeked through the blinds, Natasha was a boneless, quivering mess, utterly dumbfounded, her pussy raw and swollen, her voice gone from all the screaming.
I held her close, her head resting on my chest, her fingers idly tracing the lines of my abs. She was asleep, a soft, contented purr escaping her lips. I, on the other hand, felt energized, ready to take on the world. Or at least, ready for a very large breakfast.
The next morning, the smell of coffee and burnt toast hung in the air of the communal kitchen. I walked in, feeling refreshed and annoyingly smug. Natasha was nowhere in sight, which was probably a good thing. My eyes scanned the room, landing on Wanda, who was perched on a stool, stirring her coffee with a thoughtful expression. She looked up as I entered, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her lips.
“Well, well, well,” she purred, her eyes raking over my body, lingering for a moment on my crotch. “Someone had a very… loud night.”
I chuckled, grabbing a mug. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Maximoff.”
“Oh, I think you do,” she countered, her accent thickening with amusement. “It’s hard to miss the sounds of a certain super-spy screaming your name so loudly the windows practically rattled.” She took a sip of her coffee, her gaze never leaving mine. “She has quite the set of lungs, doesn’t she?”
I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms, my smirk firmly in place. “She certainly does. And she used them well.”
Wanda’s smile widened, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I can imagine. Makes one wonder… if she could scream your name like that, what could I do?”
My eyebrows shot up. Subtle, Maximoff. Very subtle. “Are you propositioning me, Wanda?”
“Is it working?” she challenged, her head tilting, a playful glint in her eyes. “I heard you’re quite the… collector, Y/N. And I, for one, would love to add myself to your collection.” She slid off the stool, her movements fluid and confident, walking towards me. “I’m free tonight. Say, eight o’clock? My room. We can see if I can make the whole tower shake.”
The confidence, the sheer audacity of her, was intoxicating. And, let’s be honest, I was always up for a challenge. My reputation preceded me; I had a knack for making women scream, and I enjoyed every second of it. My body, honed by the serum, was a magnet, and my cock, a willing instrument of pleasure.
“Eight o’clock, Maximoff,” I agreed, my voice a low rumble. “Don’t be late.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied, her fingers brushing my arm as she walked past, sending a jolt through me. She gave me a wink over her shoulder as she exited the kitchen, leaving me with a lingering scent of her perfume and a definite sense of anticipation.
I finished my coffee, a fresh wave of smugness washing over me. Natasha, then Wanda. This tower was a playground, and I was the queen of it.
The afternoon passed quickly, filled with mission briefings and training simulations. I caught glimpses of Natasha, but she avoided my gaze, her cheeks flushing whenever our eyes almost met. It was cute, almost. But my mind was already on Wanda, on the challenge she presented.
As evening approached, I made my way back to my room, ready to shower and prepare for my eight o’clock rendezvous. Just as I reached my door, a hand shot out, grabbing my arm.
“Y/N.”
It was Natasha. Her voice was barely a whisper, her grip surprisingly strong. She pulled me, not into my room, but into hers, slamming the door shut behind us with a soft click. The suddenness of it caught me off guard.
“Hey, Tasha, what’s up?” I asked, a playful smile on my face. “Excited for round four?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she pushed me, gently but firmly, until my back hit the cool, solid surface of her door. Her small frame was pressed against mine, her eyes fixed on the floor, her usually sharp gaze now downcast, almost shy. Her hands were fisted at her sides, trembling slightly.
“Natasha?” I prompted, my smile fading, replaced by a flicker of concern. This wasn’t her usual demeanor.
She wouldn’t look up. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her brows furrowed. The air grew thick with an unspoken tension.
“You can tell me,” I said softly, my voice losing its playful edge. I reached out, my finger gently hooking under her chin, lifting her head until her eyes, those beautiful green eyes, met mine. They were clouded, not with desire, but with something else. Something I couldn’t quite place. “What is it?”
Her breath hitched. “I… I heard you in the kitchen this morning.”
My mind raced. The conversation with Wanda. My agreement. Oh.
“You and… Wanda,” she continued, her voice barely audible, a fragile whisper. “Tonight. Eight o’clock.”
A pang, sharp and unexpected, twisted in my gut. I hadn’t considered this. Not really. I was so used to taking what I wanted, to the thrill of the chase, that I hadn’t thought about the consequences. About her consequences.
“Natasha…” I started, but she cut me off.
“I… I don’t want you to go.” The words tumbled out, rushed and desperate, her gaze flickering away from mine. “I don’t want you with her. Or with anyone else.”
My heart, usually so unyielding, softened. This wasn’t the Black Widow. This was Natasha, small and vulnerable, confessing something deeply personal, deeply painful.
“I… I want you,” she continued, her voice gaining a fragile strength. “Only you. I… I want you to touch only me. To make me scream your name. Not anyone else.”
Her confession hung in the air, raw and honest. My cocky smirk completely vanished. This wasn’t just about sex anymore. This was about something deeper. Something real. The way she looked at me, the earnestness in her eyes, the tremor in her voice… it melted me. All the bravado, all the casual conquests, suddenly felt hollow.
“Natasha,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper. I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs stroking her soft cheeks. “You… you want me? Just me?”
She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “Yes. More than anything.”
My chest ached, a strange, beautiful pain. I leaned down, pressing my forehead against hers, closing my eyes. The scent of her, clean and faintly floral, filled my senses. My hands slid down her back, pulling her flush against me, my arms wrapping around her.
“God, Tasha,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotion. “Why didn’t you just say something?”
“I… I was scared,” she confessed, her voice muffled against my chest. “You’re… you’re so big. So confident. I thought… I thought I was just another conquest.”
I pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes, seeing the genuine hurt there. “Never, Natasha. Never just another conquest.” I kissed her then, a soft, tender kiss, nothing like the wild passion of last night. This was slow, deliberate, filled with a promise I hadn’t known I was capable of making. My lips brushed hers, tasting the faint salt of her tears. I deepened the kiss, my tongue seeking hers, a gentle exploration. She responded, her lips parting, her tongue tentatively meeting mine. It was sweet, hesitant, a completely different kind of intimacy. I drew her tongue into my mouth, sucking gently, savoring the taste of her, the feel of her. Our saliva mingled, a warm, wet exchange that spoke of connection, not just lust.
I pulled away, my gaze locked on hers. “I’m an idiot,” I confessed, a soft laugh escaping me. “A total idiot.”
I scooped her up into my arms, carrying her easily, as if she weighed nothing. She gasped, wrapping her legs around my waist, her arms circling my neck. I carried her to the bed, laying her down gently, then settling beside her, pulling her close. I stroked her hair, her back, her small, trembling body.
“No Wanda,” I declared, my voice firm. “No one but you.”
A relieved sigh escaped her. She nestled into my side, her head on my shoulder, her fingers tracing the outline of my biceps. We lay there for a long time, just holding each other, the silence comfortable, filled with a new, fragile understanding.
Then, a thought struck me. “Wanda,” I mumbled, pulling out my comm. “I need to cancel.”
Natasha stiffened. “No. Let me.”
I looked at her, surprised. She was usually so averse to direct confrontation.
“I want her to know,” she said, her voice small but resolute. “I want her to know that you’re mine. That *we’re* together.”
My heart swelled. My Natasha. Always the fierce one, even when shy. I handed her the comm, pressing the contact for Wanda. It rang once, twice, then Wanda’s smooth voice answered.
“Y/N? You’re early. Impatient, are we?”
Natasha took a deep breath, her hand gripping mine. “Wanda, it’s Natasha.”
A beat of silence from the other end. “Romanoff. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Wanda’s voice was cool, laced with a hint of suspicion.
“I… I’m calling to tell you that Y/N won’t be joining you tonight,” Natasha said, her voice gaining strength with each word. “Or any other night, for that matter.”
Another pause. Then, a low chuckle from Wanda. “Oh? And why is that, darling?”
Natasha squeezed my hand. “Because she’s with me. And she’s staying with me.”
“Is that so?” Wanda’s voice was perfectly even, but I could almost feel the power humming behind it. “And Y/N, do you have anything to say about this sudden change of plans?”
I leaned into the comm, my voice firm and clear. “She’s right, Wanda. I’m off the market. Natasha here has claimed me.”
A sigh from Wanda, a sound of resignation. “Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed. But I suppose I understand. Romanoff has a way of getting what she wants, even when she’s being shy about it.” A beat of silence. “Just make sure you make her scream louder than she did last night, Y/N. For my entertainment.”
Natasha’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, but a triumphant smile touched her lips. “She will,” she promised, her eyes meeting mine, a spark of challenge and desire igniting within them. “Believe me, she will.”
She ended the call, then turned to me, her eyes shining. “So,” she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw, “now that’s settled. What were you saying about round four?”
I grinned, pulling her closer, my lips finding hers. This was it. This was real. And it was going to be so much better than any casual fling. This was Natasha. My Natasha. And I was hers.