#natalia romanova x you

[wandasmistress]

Trapped

Requests (2)- A bottom!Natasha x Reader where Natasha and the reader are heading to a mission spot and while they’re in the quinjet R is eating out and fingering Natasha + Bottom!Natasha x reader where they have sex on a mission

Synopsis- Steve shouldn’t have tricked you into going on missions causing Natasha to miss you dearly, but once you’re back for good there is always time to make up for what was lost.

Pairings- Bottom!Natasha Romanoff x Top!Reader

Warnings- 18+ Content, and Steve?

Word Count- 4k

A/N- I’ve been really inactive for the past few months but I feel that I have got my motivation back to write so hopefully I can start to put out more stories :)

➵➶➴➵➶➴➵

Your body was exhausted to stay the least, it was a mistake for you to sign up for quick missions, a big mistake. The need to always be in non-stop action to rid yourself of growing daily boredom was prominent within you. You didn’t mind all that much because doing missions was something to keep you in check and present in reality, besides one other thing.

Because of that other thing which is a special someone that you dreaded leaving for missions. Each time boarding a quinjet or black decked-out SUV there would be a sorrowful presence looming at the door of the compound’s exit, Natasha. 

When you weren’t on missions she was your constant light throughout your day because with her around you never got bored and always had a fire to keep you lit inside. When she left for a lengthy recon mission months prior you had to do something to keep you entertained for the time being. That happened to be quick missions Steve had encouraged you to sign up for when he saw your lack of life as you stared out the compound’s grand living room window that held a magnificent view of the surrounding wilderness that kept you entranced for the time being while your lover was away.

What Steve “forgot” to mention to you is that if you signed up for quick missions it would be official for eight months, let's just say you almost got into a fight with America’s most beloved. Once you signed with your signature you couldn’t take it back. At first, it was fine for the months when Natasha was gone, you had something to occupy and eat up your time, but when she came back it was a different story. 

You still had four months left on your contract and time seemed to slow down significantly, so to Natasha, it felt like an eternity. Every time she saw you off a piece of her inner happiness chipped away while uncertainty replaced its spot. She was filled with tremendous dread and loneliness during all the nights she spent without you. She longed for your touch every second of the day and especially at night, she yearned for your company so bad it was absurd. 

She had been pestering Steve about taking you off the quick missions but he ignored her advances and excused himself immediately so he wouldn’t receive her raft. Constantly following him around the compound to disrupt his day, in her eyes if she couldn’t get any sort of peace,  why should he? During all the time she had been pestering Steve, it was the end of the eight months; she couldn’t have been more delighted. She was like a kid at a candy store, only a few feet taller, tapping her foot repeatedly against the pavement as she waited to hear the familiar buzz of the incoming quinjet.

Her deep red tresses swayed from the sudden gush of air, a dark shadow cast upon her from the monumental aircraft. The shadow was a stark contrast to the fierce light that was present in her from the thought of finally being able to have you fully.

Stepping off the mechanical quinjet for the first time in hours made you relieved to breathe in the fresh air, smelling blended natural fragrances and a familiar perfume that you knew all too well. It was in a flash and then the next moment you were bombarded with Natasha’s presence. It was hard for you to hug her back with your duffle bags still in your hands but you wasted no time in dropping them and enveloping her in your arms.

She clung onto you as a sloth does to a cecropia tree, her head buried deep in your chest as she took time to fully embrace your presence. You understood her actions because the last time you spent a full day together was two months ago, who knew how many small missions there were out there to be completed.

Natasha brought her head out of your chest and peered up at you. Taking in your wondrous features that she admired staring at during the brink of the night when the moonlight shined just perfectly on your dormant face. She would study you for hours until she fell asleep in your comforting hold with only the thought of you there with her lulling her to sleep.

“Take a picture Nat, it last longer.” You say softly to Natasha as your hands naturally travel towards her hips to hold onto them.

“Oh, shut up.” She lightly chuckled as she gave a gentle slap to your shoulder, “I would take a picture of you but it could never truly capture your beauty.” Her words made your cheeks heat up along with the way she was intensely staring at your face.

“I can tell you missed me because that was cheesy as fuck, but don't worry I forgive you for that cause I missed you too.” She rolled her eyes while letting out a breathy laugh at your response as her hands trailed up your abdomen and around your neck.

She came close to your face causing your breaths to merge, you could practically smell the minty freshness on the cusp of her breath, “But ‘Take a picture it last longer’ isn’t it?” Your mind was too hazed with the thought of her lips on yours to fully understand what she was saying. Leaning forward to catch her lips only for her to back away at the last second making a frown come to your face.

“Such a big baby, don’t worry you're gonna make it up to me with more than just kisses for your absence.” She teases you as she pecks the corners of your mouth then continues to give small kisses all around your face but never your lips which slightly agitates you.

Although, not more than Steve coming to interrupt your moment with Natasha. She instantly got annoyed as he rounded the corner. A glint of sweat can be spotted on his face meaning he ran twenty miles non-stop. 

With a roll of her eyes, Natasha instantly stares down Steve as he walks up to you both, her arms now crossed over her rigid stomach.

Steve awkwardly greets the both of you with a skittish wave as he avoids Natasha’s fierce gaze.

You greet him back satisfactorily, putting your hand on the lower part of Nat’s back to wordlessly communicate with her to acknowledge Steve.

“Steve.” Natasha bluntly replies, showing no ounce of welcome in her tone.

“I hate to say this, but you both need to meet me in the debriefing room. Be there in the next ten minutes.” He says with a militant tone, fleeing towards the door of the compound straight after his assertion.

Natasha made a move to follow him but was stopped by the firm grip on her waist that held her back. When she turned around with lifted eyebrows she was met with your unimpressed face as you rolled your eyes at her abrasive antics.

“I’m off of those little pesky missions now, there's no need to hold any grudges. Help me put away my stuff, yeah?” You softly ask her, reducing your hold on her waist because you trusted her enough to not go after Steve to give him a mouthful.

She shook her head and gave you a small smirk, “Since when did you turn into a peacemaker?” She scoffs slightly in a mischievous manner as she starts striding off.

You give a light chuckle at her words but wrinkle your eyebrows in confusion at her retreating form, “You're not gonna help with my bags?”

She turns around while still strolling with a charming pout on her face and shouts, “My hands are kind of tired from all the stroking they have been doing since someone wasn’t here to do it for me!”

Your face runs cold as her coy pout turns into a naughty grin. You're stuck in a trance at her distant figure and you swear you can see her hips swaying more than they were a few seconds ago. You wasted no time in picking up your duffle bags and catching up with her, she always had a way with words that left you awestruck.

»

You and Natasha had just walked into the debriefing room Steve mentioned and the first thing your wondering eyes spotted was the brown box of your favorite, Dough Doughnuts. Treading straight towards the box of donuts as if your life depended on it; grabbing a plate from the table where the donuts were held to stack some of the pastries.

Helping yourself to multiple thick and doughy donuts put a bright smile on your face, “Help yourself, I got them for you, out of guilt.” Steve murmurs next to you rendering you to jump from the sudden surprise, managing to save your plateful of donuts as you turn towards him with a warm smile on your face.

You thank him genuinely, “although this won’t be enough for me to fully forgive you.” Your words cause him to take in a deep breath as you send him a shallow smile as you move around him and make your way to Natasha sitting at the immense oak oval table.

As you come closer to Nat she makes eye contact with you, her eyes broadening at your approaching figure. When you made it over she raised her right eyebrow as she eyed your plate stacked with donuts. By that time you had already started eating them on the walk over so when you spoke your mouth was full of mushed donuts.

“What? The last time I ate was hours ago.” You reasoned.

Natasha’s resting smirk only grew as she replied, “moya malen'kaya rybka fugu ”

You playfully narrowed your eyes as you took a seat behind her, quickly flashing your mouth full of mixed donuts only for her to swiftly pinch your stomach with a twisted grimace. Quietly chuckling to yourself as you got seated; Steve cleared his throat for both of your attention.

Just as he got attention to start speaking Natasha kicked up her feet on the deep oak conference table with a loud thud followed by a displeased sigh. You had to look away for a moment to contain your laughter, you had yet to ever see her be this petty towards Steve.

“I just wanted to start this meeting to say I never meant to have you sign up for the missions but no one else wanted to, and god knows the shield agents aren’t prepared enough for constant tasks like that. Leading to the point of this gathering, which is a final mission for you both.”

Natasha’s face turned into a passive expression that only Steve could see from his angle; a slight hesitation in his speech from the direct eye contact Natasha had with him.

“Don’t flip your lid Nat, this is a recon mission that should take less than a week. More of a getaway if you ask me, it’s in Madrid, I searched on that engine Googlet and their beaches are said to be nice during this time. The mission file is on the table, have fun ladies.” He declared before he left the room with a clasp of his hands.

There was a few seconds of brief silence until Natasha turned around in the twisty chair with her signature smirk ingrained on her face. She slowly arose from her position in her seat to saunter a few steps and rest herself on your awaiting lap. 

In between the mid-bite of a donut, you stared deep into her eyes, slowly moving the pastry away from your face to deliver a soft peck to her nose. Her face scrunching up in mock disgust as she pinched you on the cheek complaining about the sticky filling that now occupied her nose.

You couldn’t help but not take her words into account as you zoned her words out to only focus on the accentuating features that reeled you into her as a fisherman does to fish. The only thought on your mind was her ethereal beauty, not only did her outer beauty look so magnificent, her inner beauty was millions of times better. Cherishing the moments when her relaxed personality came out because of your presence; the way her face seemed to light up when you were near, and the way you found solace in her viridescent irises.

»

You were standing in the cockpit, leveling the controls of the quinjet to kickstart the autopilot mode so you could catch up on some sleep that you dearly missed. As you were focused on turning on the alarm to notice another aircraft in the air, turning on the radar, and checking safety controls caused you to fail to notice the slim figure approaching from behind.

Nat takes this moment why you are in mental solitude to absorb your features; your concentrated face making a knot deep within her start to ache. The way your hands are flexed across the controls, moving in practiced synchronization as if you could do it perfectly with your eyes closed. Also, the small barely noticeable scars littered across your arms and hands that she knows all the stories to you, courtesy of you telling them to her in the deepest of the night as her head lay on your bare chest when sleepiness was absent.

She came up behind you while you were slightly leaning on the controls, encircling her hands around your stomach, laying her cheek across the side of your back as she watched the view of the endless clouds. This is where she loved to be, anywhere with you, no matter the place.

When you felt her hands on your abdomen a sense of warmness spread throughout your body at just her touch; what she could make you feel in just a matter of seconds was a feeling you always loved.

There was a few moments of sereness that passed by before her face shifted away from the clear window to face your back.

“I really missed this.”

You let out a small chuckle, pivoting your head scarcely to the left so you could see her out of the corner of your eye. “I never knew you were so needy, babe.”

She slaps your back with her right arm at your tease which causes you to tremble away from her grip but eventually turn towards her, leaning back on the controls now so you were face to face. 

“Well you have been away to satisfy my needs, and I can only do so much.” She expressed softly with a playful angry expression on her face as she stands on her toes to connect both your lips once and for all.

The laughter within your stomach automatically ceases as her plump lips come in contact with yours, being substituted with a desire. Your hands were quick to move up to her hips and gradually down to her plump bottom, giving a gentle squeezing. 

A soft moan discharged from her closed throat at the pressure that was so close to where she needed you to be. Her lips miraculously worked with yours in an erotic dance as the force of the kisses made each of your heads move back and forth. Her hands unhurriedly came up to your firm stomach for balance, her hands skimming over your clothed breast which made a groan escape between your parted lips as you came out of the kiss for air.

No words were uttered as you wordlessly looked into her eyes for the next few seconds, her dilated pupils and the salacious look that resounded within her darkening orbs made you dive in for more of what you so badly dreamed for.

Your hands left the position on her lower half to quickly cup her face and bring her closer while her soft tongue pressed against the entrance of your lips for admission to your tongue. Bestowing her access by parting your lips, your tongues clashed together in simultaneous congruence. A deprived moan came from the pit of her throat from the way your mouth deliciously sucked on her tongue. That eruption from deep within her vocal cords was the moment something clicked on inside of you to grant her real satisfaction.

You swiftly picked her up by the rear and carelessly sat her down on top of the controls, damn the quinjet because if you go down this would be a gratifying last moment of your life. While still retaining a steady pace of indulging in Natasha’s succulent lips, your hurried hands tugged at the hem of her leggings. She snickered as she caught onto your intentions and lifted her bottom so you could quickly pull her lower garments off. 

Greedy fingers instantly met Natasha’s clothed cunt moments after her leggings had been moved and forgotten by her ankles. You took your middle and pointer fingers together and rubbed them against her clothed protruding clit. Provoking a loud moan from her; your breaths integrating from the brisk withdrawal by both of your damp lips. Her right hand presently snaked up the back of your neck while her left hand rested on your shoulder; making eye contact with her as you devoted more pressure on her clothed clit, her pupil now a tiny black speck in the sea of inveigle basil green. 

Her eyes squeezed shut as they rolled back while her mouth hung open and twitched from the constant motion happening right where she needed you to be, her head inclining forward as you pressed harder. Your sweaty foreheads came together for only a moment until you shifted your head to start sending temperate but firm kisses along her face and later neck.

You had enough of taunting her, wanting to feel her needy opening sucking up your digits. Impatiently pushing aside her lacey panties as you were met with a beyond moist sticky cunt; quick to find her clit and begin irritating it for more pressure. 

Natasha’s celestial moans and faltering sighs filled the quinjet's advanced space, luckily it was just you two, or else things would have been inconvenient. Although your fingers did not just stop at rubbing her clit, too eager you wait not one more second and plunged them straight into her opening. A coarse protracted whine came from her hushed mouth, as her face rested on your shoulder she took the opportunity to bite down to help with the influx of pleasure she acquired in such little time. 

This didn’t deter you as you only started to pump your digits quicker, the only sound echoing throughout the aircraft was your low grunts now and then, Natasha’s moans that began to sound more like yearning cries, and her pussy making various squelching noises that rang like music to your ears as you continued to hammer into her.

It didn’t take long before that tight knot within her stomach that had been itching badly inside of her, in demand to be undone, finally erupted. When that knot flared deep in the pit of Natasha’s stomach that’s when a real guttural whine escaped from her lips. You knew she was quite the verbal person in intimate situations like this, but the moan that was unleashed from her sounded extra-terrestrial, an almost jarring roar that was brought out from a hidden place inside her.

You weren’t close to being done yet, the second you remove your fingers from her center a tired objection came from her heavy breathing mouth. Her muddled head leaned back until her heavy eyes looked upon your face, her creased eyebrows hinted to her examining your sudden action to stop. Before she could let out a weak protest you stuck your soaked fingers that had just been buried inside her past her plump lips and flat onto her unexpectant tongue.

She sucked her juices from your fingers slowly in a seductive manner as she kept eye contact with you; your knot within starting to beg for release just from the way her pristine lips grasped around your digits and slowly slid down the expanse of your fingers. When she popped the fingers out of her mouth you immediately brought them up to your lips to get a taste, unknowingly to you Nat’s eyes hazily watching the movement of your hands and the way you searched for any leftover taste of her on your fingers only for it all to be gone.

In a matter of seconds, your lips instantly met Natasha’s again, causing a groan to leave her from the force of roughness. In your little plan, you had found what you were looking for, but there was still some leftover taste of Nat scattered on her tongue. A deep moan set free from her drowsy self at the feeling of you sucking her tongue harshly. She brought her head away from yours slowly, a string of mixed saliva drooping between your faces as both your lustful eyes stared deep into one another's souls.

“There’s more where that came from.” She uttered in a husky voice.

After dispatching another quick peck to her lips, you sank to the ground in an instant. Your knees collided against the hard steel just as Natasha had spread her legs open, wide enough for you to have full sight of her exalted pussy that could never be replicated. Natasha took her bottom lip in between her teeth and smirked from the way you were taking time to adore her bare cunt as if she hadn’t told you to continue the vulgar actions that you were performing moments earlier.

It didn’t take you any longer to get back into the swing of things as your face merged into her sodden cunt, her thighs encompassing your head as her radiant smell plagued your sense as you took a deep breath in. Sticking your deprived tongue out from behind your lips that were submerged in her center, licking an elongated vertical line up her center. Her shivering that knocked you off your course made you resort to wrapping your hands around her outer thighs to keep her in place, talking into her pussy which sent a thundered hum attack her clit which stimulated her so much that she bucked and whined like a lost wolf that has strayed from its pack.

Her body shuddered from your attempted talking inducing numerous buttons on the control deck to be pressed while some switches flicked on and off. Your grip on her thighs constricted to ensure she changed no controls that would cause the quinjet to plummet to the ground instantaneously. Even with a slight chance of crashing, you stretched your hungry tongue past her entrance, and as deep as your face would let you without suffocating, making this another satisfying moment to go out. 

Your tongue wriggled back and forth inside of Natasha, numerous times pressing on the bundle of nerves that made her go crazy each time you hit it just right. Natasha needed something to hold onto as the knot in her came undone even more each second, her pale fingers sliding in between your locks and barring onto the roots. You hissed slightly from the tugging she would do every few seconds from hitting her g-spot now and then. That didn’t hold you back from going deeper as her taste was so addicting, her juices being like holy ale sent down from above just for you only, sacred nectar that could never be found anywhere on the earth no matter how hard you searched. 

Ultimately getting lost in the tempo and taste of Natasha brought her to another orgasm that struck her harder than last time tenfold, you were always so proficient with your tongue that she could never get enough. This time no sound was emitted from her opened mouth, only a sound of strangulation as she failed to take in air. Her tense chest heaved in and out as she got a hold of her breath but was still moments into seeing the stars. That was all muffled for you because she had you interlocked tightly within her pale plush thighs, her juices drenching your face as her cum oozed out from within her. You were entrapped, and truthfully, you don’t think you want to leave just yet.

»

[romanoffshouse]

Y/N: Bye Natasha!

Y/N: Bye Tony!

Y/N: Bye Steve!

Y/N: Bye Bucky!

Y/N: Bye Natasha!

Tony: You said 'Bye Natasha' twice.

Y/N: I like Natasha.

[notanactressyayy]

·˚ ₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 | natasha romanoff

. ݁₊ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 . it was a new era of her life. she no longer had missions or a team to rely on — only endless free time, and a bunch of thoughts that weren't really helpful. Natasha for once, had time to pick up her phone — something trivial. through the dating app Tony had dared her to install months ago, she meets somebody. finally, her heart was at peace.

. ݁₊ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — a TW for the photo editing thing. this may be a sensitive topic for some. lonely Nat, insecure Nat — she edits a picture of her body, swearing, oral (N receiving). lots of fluffy stuff, too. set after Civil War.

. ݁₊ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 . english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors. this ended up SO MUCH longer than i initially planned. i put a lot of dedication into this so, yeah 🥹

thanks to my lovely @sunswish who helped me with the plot and the proofreading! ♡

The trailer was quiet, except for the faint rustle of the wind through the trees outside. Natasha sat at the small wooden table by the window, her knees pulled up to her chest, a steaming mug of tea resting untouched beside her. The Norwegian countryside was beautiful, vast and unassuming, but the stillness pressed down on her.

Her phone laid on the table, the screen dark. She stared at it for a moment, the faintest flicker of hesitation crossing her face. She’d never been good at this — being still, alone with her thoughts. For years, her life had been one constant motion: missions, battles, briefings, always moving forward because stopping meant thinking, having time to ponder about her life.

Her jaw tightened, and she looked out the window instead. What was she even doing?

She’d fought tooth and nail to become an Avenger, to carve out some sliver of redemption for herself, some sense of belonging in a world she’d spent so long working against. She’d believed in their cause, in their family, even when it meant trusting people with pieces of herself she hadn’t known she was capable of sharing.

And now? The Avengers were gone. Torn apart, like everything else she’d tried to build. She was a fugitive, hunted by the very government she’d once fought to protect. Her friends — her family — were scattered, some in hiding, some in prison. She was left with nothing but her name and a handful of private contractors who worked in the shadows. People she barely trusted, people who barely trusted her. Yet she still needed them for supplies, false documents, and a roof above her head. Funny, she thought.

She reached for her mug, her fingers curling around the warmth of the ceramic, though she didn’t take a sip. She had no mission now, no team to fall back on. No one to call when the silence became too much. She wasn’t sure if she missed the fights or the people more.

A faint vibration against the table snapped her from her thoughts. Her phone. She glanced down, the screen lighting up with a notification — some random email, one of these ‘no reply’ ones, nothing important. She hesitated, then picked it up anyway, her thumb hovering over the screen.

Scrolling through her phone felt… strange. Almost trivial. She opened Instagram, an app she barely used but kept around for the rare moments she wanted to feel tethered to something normal. The feed was full of snapshots of a life she didn’t recognize—vacations, dinners, smiling faces, people celebrating milestones she wouldn't ever have.

And right then, the name ‘Avengers’ didn’t make sense for her anymore. She was supposed to have this. This life where she would have a fun moment and think ‘oh, yes! i should absolutely shoot a pic and add to my stories’. After all, Natasha was just an unavenged girl, woman, human. A picture of a mother celebrating her daughter's birthday wasn't just one more picture showing on her feed. It was her dream.

She scrolled absently, her mind only half-engaged as her thumb flicked upward. Part of her wanted to throw the phone across the room and forget she’d ever picked it up. But another part—the quieter, lonelier part—held onto it like a lifeline.

She then receives another automatic notification. How has your love life been going? It took her a moment to remember what it was, and when she did, she let out a dry, humorless laugh.

The dating app.

She’d installed it months ago as a joke, because Tony had bet her she wouldn’t. She could still hear his voice in her head, teasing her. “Come on, Nat. You might actually meet someone who doesn’t want to kill you for once.” At the time, it was funny. She’d downloaded it, filled out the bare minimum of the profile, like: cat lover, captivating green eyes & martial arts enjoyer and promptly forgotten about it.

Her finger hovered over the icon now, her heart giving a strange, uncomfortable twirl in her chest. The idea of opening it felt absurd. What would she even say to someone? What would they see in her, beyond the scars and the lies and the mess she’d made of her life? That was made of her life? Could she even try and have a relationship? When throughout her life, she didn’t ever have a conversation about feelings? Clint was the closest attempt to that — he knew her past, more than the others, at least. So she spoke to him about things like that before. But he had a wife, kids, a home.

Natasha damned her heart every single day — for wanting a connection with somebody — for wanting to be somebody's, and for not being content with what she already has.

What does she even have?

She sighs deeply as she gathers a little bit of courage (that usually wasn't necessary when one was to open a simple app in their phone) and presses her thumb against the icon. Her eyebrows show a little frown as she realizes the app wasn’t open — she had held the icon for too long, making the options add to home and uninstall pop up on her screen.

“Goddammit,” she mutters to herself. Maybe she had done it on purpose. She considers choosing the second option. But her thumb, once again, hovers over the uninstall word for too long.

She was just confused. In conflict, with something so small. Although, she was braver than that.

“Let's just get over with this.” She mutters to herself as she finally opens the app — SparkMatch, she reads the name, for the first time. She lets out a scoff. Though the feeling of unease didn't take long before coming back to her. The about me section was completely empty, in exception for-

“Captivating green eyes. Cat lover.” she reads the words she had typed, aloud, cursing herself. It was what she had written in order to simply make the Iron Man laugh and leave her alone. “Great job, Romanoff. Truly irresistible.”

Scrolling down her profile, which was named only @Natasha1203— having in mind that her surname wasn't one to be openly shared — she finds the photos she had chosen, months ago, without really thinking much. Her gallery didn't have much cheering stuff. They were as nondescript as possible: a picture of a skyline she had taken while on the run. Her in sunglasses, her most common accessory. And.. a single closeup of her face, that felt too honest for comfort. She doesn’t know why she left that one there, for the world to stare at. Maybe it was the one moment where she caught herself looking like.. well, herself. If somebody squinted their eyes, they could see a small scar on her shoulder. She hoped people wouldn’t do that.

Summing up: the profile was a mess. And that was a perfect reflection of the person behind it. She doesn't make a move to edit any information — before remembering an important detail. It would be nice to change her profile's name, in case anybody (especially Tony, that was aware of this) tried to look for her.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203 was the new username.

Perfect. She does a little ‘tsk’ with her tongue, a little habit she developed when finishing a task.

Flirting was easy. She had been trained for it — trained in the art of seduction, molded into a woman that could slip into any persona, say the right words, touch in the right way, just to get what she needed. But this wasn't one of the spy programs she had access to in SHIELD. This wasn't about manipulation or information extracting. This was trivial. Normal.

Natasha browses through the app for a while. She stops in profiles of strangers that smiled back at her through their pictures — men, women, who were teachers, doctors, engineers. People with families and hobbies. Who had the chance to live a life without looking over their shoulders every second. Yet something about this.. gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling. It was faint, but it was there. Knowing all these little details about random folks, she could find small pieces of herself in each one: some did ballet when they were little. Some had a scar due a kitchen accident. Some did karate simply for liking the sport. Some liked peanut butter sandwiches. She quietly giggles, her previous nervousness replaced by a silly feeling.

Maybe it wasn't that bad. It is not like a random person was gonna crawl out of her phone screen and have a date right then, anyway. And there was another ‘problem’. This app was still american, while she was in a whole new timezone.

What a relief.

She shifts on the small couch of her trailer, now laying down on it, allowing herself to get entertained with SparkMatch. She even found some profiles that were probably deactivated by now, seeing that they were created, like, a decade ago. She purposefully clicked on the small heart on them, meaning Match. She softly laughs.

But the sound is interrupted by herself as she finds a specific user.

It was a minimalist profile — elegant, even. It didn't say much about the person's personality: it said enough. It wasn't extravagant or absurd like some she had found. And it certainly wasn't a mess, like hers.

Y/n. 34. Not good at small talk, but I'm a good listener. A photographer, currently traveling around. Just someone who thinks the world is too big of a place to stay idle for too long. Currently: Norway

It was truly something else, compared to the live, laugh, love bios or the gym rats flashing their abs.

Her curiosity picks up, and soon enough, she sees a picture of them in Oslo.

And it was posted just three days ago.

So they were active in this app. But this wasn't what her mind grasped. Traveling in Norway. International trips usually didn’t last just three days, right? So that meant they were still there. There with her.

Out of all countries in the world, they were there?

She reads the bio again. Currently: Norway.

A strange shiver runs down her spine the more she thinks about the situation she found herself into. She bites on her lip, her stomach twirling almost painfully, like a school girl texting her crush. She was the Black Widow, for God's sake. She didn't get to go on silly dates and receive flowers.

No. This was too much. Without closing the app, she locks the screen of her phone again and drops it to the couch, quickly standing up and running her fingers through her hair. There were many reasons why this wouldn't work, especially when she was a fugitive and could get recognized, even in a small cafe.

Heading to the tiny kitchen, she opens a drawer on the countertop and grabs a bottle opener, opening the fridge and taking a beer out. She removes the cap and downs the bottle with no second thought, the bitter liquid ripping down her throat. Deeply breathing, shakily. Amidst the vast emptiness, not only of the place she was currently settled, but of her heart too, she fought back tears. The glass of the bottle clicks against the marble countertop as she places it down, her hands tightly gripping onto the edge of the furniture, holding herself up. It was a hard decision to make, whether to take this opportunity and keep it safe in her heart, or to let it go and pretend it never happened in the first place.

But she wouldn't be able to rest tonight knowing she simply did nothing about that special person the app charitably put into her hands. So, on this night, the unshatterable Natasha Romanoff did something she never thought she would. Before heading to bed, she picked up her phone again. Gladly, she didn't have to look for the profile once more. She simply had to press onto the small heart next to their picture. And she did.

The screen flashed: It's a match!

Natasha blinked in surprise, almost dumbfounded by this message. But this was meant to happen, right? Now, she could only hope that she would receive something in return by the morning.

It felt.. good. She had something to expect, a little flicker of hope that followed her even in her dreams, that made her feel better than she could ever imagine.

And this was just the start.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

When the next day came, all of Natasha’s thoughts regarding the whirlwind of recent events were replaced by a single thing: that person. That New Yorker who was currently in Norway to take photos for a personal album. She initially wondered if she could really lower her guard like this and not think too much about Secretary Ross — who was still after her — but it was not like she would leave this trailer anytime soon. Thus, she needed a distraction, something to keep her brain entertained until this whole mess was over.

Talking to them was a relief — a solace she had been needing and didn't even know until now.

Talking to you.

Right away you had seen the match notification of SparkMatch, even if it was already one in the morning when it arrived. You sent this woman- Fanny? a message, and waited, but no response came until the next day. You wondered if she had impulsively pressed the match button and ran away from her phone out of nervousness. You actually imagined it, seeing the one picture of herself she published on her feed. Her profile was.. vague, to say at least, but she was incredibly beautiful, and indeed had captivating green eyes, like she boldly described herself. It made you smirk to your phone’s screen. No, genuinely smile.

It was pretty much clear that she wasn't a dating app person. And neither were you! You just had a better sense of organization than her, that's for sure. What if you two could really be a match?

As the day went on, you two engaged into a conversation that was surprisingly enjoyable for both sides. Opening the inbox chat, that could be found:

@Y/n: Good night. Is your real name Fanny Longbottom?

— eight hours later —

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Good morning! The first thing you ask a woman is if her name is real?

@Y/n: It just doesn't suit a beautiful redhead with captivating green eyes.

Natasha groaned to herself at this, laughing. The humor in the text was evident, and she loved that.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Right. It was a joke. You can call me.. Nat.

It was a glimpse of her name. It could be Natasha, Natalia, Natalie.. or all of these.

@Y/n: Nat.. that is better. Yet still very vague. Like your whole profile.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Perhaps my whole account here is a joke.

@Y/n: And we still matched. And sincerely, I'm intrigued. Intrigued and curious.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That’s a dangerous thing to tell someone you just met.

@Y/n: Personally, I wouldn’t call a cat lover dangerous.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Will you stop mocking me for my irresistible biography or what?

It was an easy playful banter. It felt light. Not like these conversations where you had to directly ask the other person to be nice to you.

@Y/n: You just don’t strike me as someone who spends much time on dating apps. What brings you here?

With that, she debated whether to mention Tony’s dare or not. She could talk about it, but not for now. If she’s sincere, about how much she needed not to be alone anymore, this could lead to something good, more profound.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: I’m just trying something new. What about you? Norway seems kinda away from the rest of the world.

@Y/n: It is. But sometimes you have to go far to find what you’re looking for.

Natasha leaned back, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She didn’t know who you were, or why your words seemed to settle something in her chest, but for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she felt.. excited.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Have you found it?

@Y/n: Not yet. But I have a feeling I might be in the right place.

She stared at the message, her mind turning over the possibilities. She was already glad that this hadn’t started with “hey, you’re cute” or “what’s up?”, and now? It felt like she was in a dream — to find someone that shared her ideals, or that at least, thankfully, sounded like a mature adult.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Maybe Norway isn’t so bad after all.

@Y/n: So you’re also here!

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That seems like an excited message to me.

Gladly, her phone’s camera wasn’t capturing anything. Because she swore her eyes were sparkling right now.

@Y/n: Of course I’m excited, Nat. Now I have something else to think about other than shooting pictures.

Natasha stared at the reply, her fingers lightly brushing against the edge of her phone. There was something disarming about your words — direct, yet not forceful. And the way you used her name so casually made her blush.

She hesitated, before typing back.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: What do you shoot? Other than clever replies, apparently.

@Y/n: Street photography. Portraits, mostly. But I’ve been known to dabble in the occasional cat picture. You know, for balance.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Balance is important. What would the world do with no cat pictures?

@Y/n: I shudder to imagine it. Speaking of balance.. would you let me buy you coffee sometime? Or would that be too much?

Her breath caught. You really didn’t waste time, did you? she thought. For a moment, her walls threatened to go up again — she could almost hear that little voice in the back of her mind telling her that this was not a good idea, that it wasn’t smart, safe.

But she silenced it. It was too soon, for sure — but she couldn’t knock it till she tried it.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That depends. Are you going back to New York in the next few days?

@Y/n: I don’t have a specific date to go back. So I guess it depends on how things go.

Yeah. Now she felt a little pressured. It was a dilemma, she could be the reason you stayed or left. Adrenaline coursed through her veins — that was determination.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: It’s not like I am going anywhere anytime soon, either. But.. I like to play hard to get sometimes. How about we wait and see how things go?

@Y/n: Hard to get, huh? Well, patience is a virtue. Let me know when you feel like stopping the chase.

And you two went on like that — talking about your favorite portraits, sending her some — receiving her compliments, which sounded way too genuine for your liking. It was casual, like talking to a friend. Natasha didn't take long to start feeling comfortable with texting you. If she weren't a spy without a private number, she would've asked for your WhatsApp. Or maybe she was just exaggerating. The thing was: she didn't have to wonder about how to answer you. Your way of having conversations was so nice that she didn't feel forced to text back.

And with these new discoveries, Natasha felt like she could be in this new country without feeling too out of place. She feared that in the end this would be just one momentary experience, one of the many personas she played.

But shockingly, for once, she didn’t feel like paying attention to her overthinking.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

Weeks had passed, and the nightly silence Natasha once dreaded was now filled with something else. Her phone screen, once cold and impersonal, had become an opening to something warmer. A new phase of her life. She never thought she would be so close to a mobile device before. Supersecret agents couldn’t have personal ones other than burner phones, it was risky — they could get hacked, tracked, recognized. She didn’t have a number, or an email with her name, bank accounts, or any sort of thing that could link her to the authorities. She only had TikTok, Instagram, some games like Candy Crush Saga and her newest best friend, SparkMatch.

Everyday, without fail, your conversations flowed effortlessly. You spoke about everything: Norway’s quiet beauty, silly anecdotes, and even the mundane things that somehow became meaningful when shared. She made herself get used to the habit of not thinking much. This wasn’t part of the plan — or rather, there was no plan. This constant connection grounded her in a way she didn’t fully understand.

Having someone willingly care about her, without having to ask, beg for it — she couldn’t understand.

This evening, after eating her exquisite caviar and drinking champagne, she settled onto her couch with a blanket draped over her shoulders. Her phone buzzed, and her mind involuntarily anticipated your witty reply, or question about her day.

Instead, a picture greeted her.

It wasn’t posed or staged — just you. mid-laugh, with a goofy expression that instantly betrayed your attempt to be serious. Your hair was a bit disheveled, and the lighting was off, but the image carried a kind of authenticity Natasha couldn’t let pass. The caption reads:

@Y/n: I don’t usually do selfies, but I figured you deserved to see what you’ve been stuck talking to all this time.

It was caring. You thought about her often enough to send a picture of yourself, doing absolutely nothing important.

Natasha softly blinked at the picture, completely still as her brain worked to process what she was looking at. It wasn’t just a picture. There was trust behind it, a hidden message. She couldn’t tell where you were getting at with this action — actually, she could. She just tried to convince herself of the contrary, afraid of putting her hopes up and screwing up afterwards.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Hi. I wasn’t expecting that.

@Y/n: Hi! How are you right now?

She bites her lip, incredulously chuckling. She was almost certain that this question was supposed to come before the picture.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Better.

She was feeling better, but not just that — she was feeling.. something. Something like.. seen. Like she was remembered by someone, like she existed, for once.

And those feelings stirred something even deeper within her.

The connection was becoming deeper — it was just now that she realized that the flirting which occurred every now and then wasn’t meaningless. It had a deep impact on her, in her soul — as a friend, as a person, and mostly.. as a woman. She needed it. She needed someone to like her, to pay attention to her, to see her — intimately, closely. Even better when this someone wasn’t a superficial person, and actually one who she related to and felt like she could share this dormant part of herself.

So she decides to share a picture, too.

She sits upright on the couch, the blanket falling and pooling around her hips as she opens the camera. She switches from the back camera to the frontal one, and takes a selfie. She was wearing a simple grey tank top, so her shoulders, collarbone and neck were on display. She wasn’t smiling smiling, just briefly, just enough to make a friendly expression. It was soft, tender. Unlike the deadly Black Widow.

Thankfully, for you, she didn’t have to be that.

So she presses send, laying back again and staring at the screen in anticipation — her eyes closely watching as the send mark changed into seen, that then turned into open. It stayed like that for a long while — like you were examining the picture and weren’t ashamed of it.

It gave her goosebumps.

The typing bubble appeared again after what felt like an eternity.

@Y/n: You’re beautiful, Nat.

It was a compliment you had already used on her. But this situation? Oh, it felt so, so different. You were talking about the simplicity, the domesticity of her in this closeup, the softness.

Fueling the fire that started to burn within her on this specific day.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Just a selfie.. don't get carried away. I'm hardly camera ready.

@Y/n: It's more than a selfie for me. It made my day. If that's not camera ready, I wonder how it'll be like when you try.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Would you like to see?

Oops. She didn't think before sending this one.

@Y/n: Hell, yes.

Her mind was immersed, totally consumed by the attention you were giving her — no jokes, no hints, just shameless flirting. Standing from the couch, she walks to her small bedroom, which was already dark, gladly — she closes her door, and slumps on her bed. Seduction was her nature, she couldn't control it. Though it wasn't necessarily a bad thing right now. Reaching her hand out, she turned on her yellow dim lamp, a gentle, warm glow casting her skin, making a better environment for the incoming picture.

She reopened the camera and adjusted herself in a comfortable position — knees pulled up, her left hand resting above her stomach as she held her phone with her right one above herself — taking the photo. There was auburn red hair all over the pillows, some strands framing her face perfectly. There was skin showing — a bit of her thighs, her arms, waist.. the curves of her body leaving room for imagination.

And something that she forgot about for the longest time.

The bullet scar above her left hip.

She stared at the photo on her screen, finger hovering over the "Send" button instinctively. The lighting was perfect, the pose effortless yet captivating. Her expression was soft, relaxed — but her pupils were darkened, a hint of the sinful emotions coursing through her body. But her eyes fell to the scar.

It was unavoidable, cutting through the smooth expanse of her pale skin like a brutal reminder. The bullet scar left by the Winter Soldier, a relic of her past life, stood out glaringly in the image. Her jaw clenched as a familiar wave of self-consciousness surged through her, a feeling she thought she had buried already.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the headboard as her thumb swiped to open the editing tools. It took her less than a minute to brush the scar away, leaving her skin unmarked, untouched. Natasha tilted her head, scrutinizing the result. The photo looked… perfect. Too perfect, perhaps, but she didn’t allow herself to dwell on that.

With a deep breath, she pressed send.

Unlike your other conversations, she felt.. heavy. Like the instinct of having to show her perfect body in order to be liked was speaking louder than her rational side.

The message was delivered almost immediately, but the seconds felt drawn out, agonizingly long. When the "seen" indicator appeared, her heart raced. She bit the inside of her cheek, anticipating your response.

The reply came swiftly:

@Y/n: Wow. I’m speechless.

She smirked (bittersweetly), her thumb hesitating for only a moment before typing back.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That’s a first. Usually, you always have something to say.

The typing bubble reappeared, and she waited, her heart thudding in her chest.

@Y/n: You make it hard to think, Nat.

Natasha felt warmth flood her cheeks, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Don’t let it go to your head.

@Y/n: I think it's too late for that.

For a moment, she wondered what you would have said if you’d seen the unedited version. Would you have found it ugly? Would you have pitied her? Or would you have admired her for wearing it like the badge of survival it was?

In her dreams, you would have worshiped it.

Before she could send anything else, you decided to take a shot on meeting her in person once again.

@Y/n: I'm sorry, I'll have to suggest. How about this: I'll find the best café within a 10-mile radius, and you can tell me if my photography is as good as my coffee recommendations.

Time passed, and the accusations against Natasha had toned down a bit. Maybe, just maybe, if she's careful enough, she can do this. The first date she'd have in what, a decade?

It was refreshing. And scary. But overall refreshing.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Deal. But I will be the judge in both.

The day and place was decided — it would be in Oslo, downtown — a café, where tons of people would be present. Natasha, growing up, became a master in blending in.

If fate decided to be on her side, this would be one of the best days of her life.

She tossed her phone onto the pillow beside her and laid back, staring at the ceiling. Her fingers brushed the scar again, tracing its jagged edges as if trying to understand its place in this new chapter of her life.

“Not everyone gets to see this side of me,” she murmured to herself.

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if that was a warning or a promise.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

The café buzzed with the warmth of chatter, the soft clinking of ceramic mugs, and the occasional burst of laughter. It was tucked into a quiet corner of downtown Oslo, a place where the world felt comfortably distant yet close enough for her to disappear if necessary. Hours before, Natasha had dressed herself up — a burgundy dress, black tights, her usual black boots — and her jacket, of course. Her hair was naturally wavy, falling down her shoulders and back — and the makeup was simple. She wasn't a woman for makeup. But this time, she wore red lipstick and the faintest glitter eyeshadow.

She felt like a doll. It was stupid, a thing she liked to imagine how it would feel like back then — in the Red Room, where the girls wore black uniforms — grey sometimes, but always robotic, always calculated. It was a comforting feeling, which made her want to go back in time and tell little Natalia: yes! we are older now, and we are all dolled up for the date of our dreams.

Natasha arrived early — of course she did. She always did. She chose a seat by the window, her back to the wall, a vantage point where she could see everyone coming and going. Her heart wasn’t racing, but there was a slight tension in her chest. She sipped her coffee slowly, the warm bitterness grounding her as she kept an eye on the door. Then, you walked in.

Her doubting thoughts flew away the moment the green eyes landed on you.

She recognized you instantly. Your smile was smaller in person but somewhat warmer, more genuine. You scanned the room briefly before your eyes landed on her, and for a moment, Natasha thought she saw your breath catch. She softly smirks, gaze involuntarily daring.

Come and get me. This? Is all for you.

She shaked that thought away as she watched you approach her table — your clothes, your style, your body language — she scanned it all. The Black Widow wasn't an easy woman to conquer, which made her dump most of the people that tried to hit on her in the past. You were a rare exception, someone who didn't even have to try to make her heart race. It happened in it’s own.

“You made it,” Natasha said, standing to greet you, to give you a quick hug — the subtle press of your body against hers making her skin tingle. Damn it. She adjusted her dress before sitting back down. You did the same, sitting in front of her.

“Of course I did. This date was all I could think about,” you reply, eyes drinking her in, like she was the prettiest woman to exist. She truly was. “No. Let me rephrase. Seeing you was all I could think about.”

Natasha lets out a soft laugh, shifting her gaze towards the floor. She was so pale that the fact that she was blushing was, unfortunately, evident.

“Feels good to finally hear your voice,” she says, resting her chin on her hand as she stares at you. “In person. Not in audio messages or calls.”

After ordering pastries and more coffee for the both of you, the conversation flowed easily, from the usual mundane topics to little jokes that made Natasha chuckle softly. She found herself studying you more and more, the way you gestured when you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you laughed.

Eventually, the question came.

“So, what’s it like?” you asked, your voice gentle but curious. “Being an Avenger?”

Natasha paused, her fingers brushing the edge of her coffee cup. She had expected this, of course. She knew it would come up. She couldn't simply hide, not when her face had shown up on TV so many times. But if necessary, she would say that this wasn't what she wanted to be anymore. Not with you. She simply wanted to be herself around you, and not the superhero.

She wasn't Natasha who assaulted T'challa. Wasn’t the Sokovia Accords breaker. She hoped you knew by now.

“It’s… complicated,” she said after a moment, her tone measured. “Not as glamorous as it looks on TV, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You smiled. “I’m sure. But it’s still something, isn’t it? Saving the world, fighting alongside legends.”

A faint, nostalgic smile tugged at her lips. “It was something, yeah. But it wasn’t always about saving the world.” Her gaze softened as she thought back. “There was this time when Tony installed this AI in the kitchen — Friday’s cousin or something — to help us cook. It ended up burning everything it touched. Clint started calling it ‘Flamebot,’ and Steve…” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Steve tried to fix it, of course. Said it was ‘worth saving.’”

You laughed, and Natasha found herself smiling more openly. She was rambling.

“And Thor,” she continued, “he once mistook a microwave for some kind of… magical contraption. He tried to ‘summon its power’ with Mjolnir.”

“Did it work?” you teased.

Natasha smirked. “No, but we had to get a new microwave.”

The nostalgia warmed her, but it also left her feeling melancholic. She missed them. Not the missions or the battles, but the team — the messy, dysfunctional family they had become. You seemed to notice the shift in her mood and didn’t push further. Instead, you leaned in slightly, your voice soft.

“I can tell you miss them,” you said.

Natasha nodded, her walls lowering just a fraction. “Yeah. I do.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, realizing she needed some cheering up. This was supposed to be a happy day, not one to bring up sad memories. So you opened your bag, pulling out of it your camera — which made Natasha's eyes brighten up.

“You brought it!” she exclaims. “I almost forgot that you're a photographer,”

“I thought of the possibility of having to register this moment. And I was absolutely right. You look.. beautiful isn't enough to describe it,” you deeply sigh, as if surrendering to her, to this feeling of being completely in love. “Can I please take a picture of you?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. “A picture of me?” she asked, her tone teasing. “You know that’s dangerous, right? What if you decide to sell it to the tabloids?”

You laughed softly, looking at her like a lovesick puppy, shaking your head. “I’m not interested in fame, Nat. Just in you.”

That made her pause, her smirk faltering for just a second. It wasn’t often she heard something so direct, so sincere. She tilted her head, studying you with those piercing green eyes, as if trying to gauge if you meant it.

“Alright,” she said finally, leaning back in her chair. “But only if it’s a good angle. No pressure.”

You grinned, lifting the camera and adjusting the settings with practiced ease. “No such thing as a bad angle with you.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but the blush dusting her cheeks just got worse. She straightened up, her posture relaxed yet commanding, exuding that natural grace and power.

“Like this?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, a hint of amusement in her voice.

You brought your chair closer, lowering the camera for a moment. “No. Don’t pose,” you said quietly. “Just be yourself.”

That caught her off guard. Her brow furrowed slightly, and she shifted in her seat, unsure of what to do with herself for once.

“Be myself, huh?” she murmured.

You nodded, lifting the camera again. “Exactly. I don’t need the Black Widow. I want Nat.”

Her lips parted slightly at your words, and for a fleeting moment, the mask she wore every day seemed to slip. Her shoulders relaxed, her head tilted to the side, and a genuine, very shy smile spread across her face. “I-”

Before she could protest, the shutter clicked, capturing her in that rare, unguarded moment. “Perfect,” you murmured, lowering the camera and meeting her gaze.

Natasha shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Only the good kind,” you replied with a grin, setting the camera down.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand again as she studied you. “So, do I get to see it? Or are you keeping me in suspense?”

You turned the camera around, showing her the photo on the screen. Her expression softened as she took it in — the warmth in her eyes, the slight tilt of her head, the way the light framed her face, her rosy cheeks. It wasn’t just a picture. It was a glimpse of who she really was, beyond the layers of secrecy and survival. It was simply her, away from espionage, having coffee with her date.

Her unforgettable trip to Norway.

“It’s… good,” she said quietly, her voice almost hesitant.

“Good?” you ask. “It’s stunning. Just like my model.”

Oh, that…

The way you emphasized the word ‘my’.. the way you were making her feel.. actually precious. She was trapped.

“Alright,” she said, sitting back. “You’ve had your fun. Now tell me, do I at least get a copy?”

You laughed, nodding. “Of course. But only if you promise to go easy on me when I take more later.”

She smirks, her confidence returning. “We’ll see about that.”

As the evening wore, the sky showed a beautiful indigo, stars twinkling just like the sparkles in both of your sets of eyes. Natasha allowed herself to relax. To bask in this kind of normalcy that she never had the chance to experience. She had seen a lot, lived a lot. She knew what people could do in response to fear. She saw war and hatred, she saw coldness and cruelty. But from now on, she could live in a lighter way — like her heart was finally at peace.

“Should we get going?” you asked as the people also started to leave, standing and offering her a hand.

Natasha hesitated for half a second before taking it. Your touch was warm, steady, grounding, and promising. As you stepped outside, the cool air of Oslo wrapped around you. The city lights flickered like stars. Natasha felt a strange sense of calm. When she felt your arm enveloping her shoulders, her breath hitched, but she didn’t let it show — leaning into you gently.

“Where to now?” she asked, glancing at you.

“Well, the hotel, if you’re up for it,” you replied, your tone playful but not pushing.

That playfulness was a disguise for more surprises that awaited her back into the hotel room you were hosted in.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

When you unlocked the door to the hotel you're staying in, Natasha followed you inside, her steps hesitant, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The space was warm and inviting, even if it wasn't a fixed place — especially after knowing you for a good while now — tons of polaroids laying across the bed, portraits, some funko pops that you bought recently. But what caught her attention almost immediately was the bouquet of flowers resting on the counter, tied together with a simple ribbon.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she turned to you, her lips parting in surprise. She didn't even have time to look around the place. “What’s this?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and vulnerability.

You stepped past her, picking up the bouquet and holding it out to her with a smile. “These are for you,” you said.

Natasha blinked, momentarily stunned. Her fingers brushed against yours as she took the bouquet, her touch delicate, as though the flowers were something precious. She examined them quietly — deep purple irises mingled with soft yellow sunflowers and a few sprigs of white heather.

“So you’re a hopeless romantic.. you didn’t take them to the café. What made you so sure I would come back to your place?”

You shrugged, leaning casually against the counter. “I wasn’t sure,” you admitted, meeting her gaze with an honesty that made her pause. “But I hoped you would. And, well, I wanted them to be a surprise. It felt more personal this way.”

Natasha glanced down at the flowers again, her fingers gently brushing over the petals. “You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

“I thought you were worth the effort,” you said simply, the sincerity in your voice making her blink rapidly, as though she was trying to process it.

Natasha smiled as she shook her head lightly, trying to dismiss the overwhelming feeling creeping up on her. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You chuckled, stepping closer. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She tilted her head, her green eyes studying you with a mixture of curiosity and warmth. “It is,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to,” you interrupted softly, stepping closer. “You deserve something beautiful. Something that shows how incredible you are, even if you can’t always see it yourself.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. The Avenger, the unshakable spy, was speechless.

Natasha turned to face you fully, the bouquet forgotten for a moment as she searched your face. It was almost desperate, how she tried to find reassurance, anything that told her that her past wasn't a problem. “You… you don’t even know the half of it,” she murmured.

“Maybe not,” you admitted. “But I want to. Every part of it, Nat. I want to know you.”

For a long moment, she just stared at you, as if trying to decide whether she could let her walls down one more time. Talking through an app was easier. In person felt way too serious. And then, with a deep, trembling breath, she set the bouquet back on the table and closed the distance between you.

She walked with determination, her chest lightly touching yours as her hands found their way to the back of your neck. Her fingernails softly scratched in between the hair strands. She didn't know what to say — she didn't want to say anything. In this very second, she simply wanted to feel. Feel what she never had the privilege to feel as the years passed, because yes, this felt like a privilege. She stood on her tiptoes to press herself closer, doe green eyes pleading.

They told you everything, and you didn't need to be passed the message twice. Your right hand cupped her cheek as the left one wrapped around her waist, bringing her even closer.

She was an angel. Not a deadly spy. A sweet angel to be taken care of. To have her needs satisfied and tears wiped away.

As Natasha felt you responding, she allowed her eyes to close.. basking in the darkness, wanting to be enveloped by this only one sensation. This soft, intense sensation of your lips against hers, moving in a way that wasn't rushed, but wasn't too deliberate either — your hands gripping her waist and bunching the fabric of her jacket, maneuvering her back against the counter. Holding onto your shoulders, she sat on the countertop, welcoming your body between her legs. The kiss lasted. She softly whimpered as she felt your tongue brushing against her bottom lip, asking for entrance, for more of her. And she allowed it. Her head tilted to the side, moving in sync with you — as your tongues danced, a dance she hadn’t discovered before.

Needing air, you pull away, foreheads resting against one another as you deeply inhale, messily. It was torture to stop kissing her, she was good. But air was necessary. Calming down, your arms circle her waist. A smile makes its way to your lips as you see the state she was in. Flushed. And…

“I think your lipstick is a little smudged,”

Natasha felt that — every nerve of her skin was burning, including the parts with the messy makeup. She lets out a huff of air and clears her throat, trying to find her voice so she could respond.

“That was…” she whispers, her hands cradling your jaw. “Wow,”

“You are ‘wow’,” you whisper, using your thumb to wipe away the red lipstick from the corners of her lips, fixing it. “You are perfect,”

“I'm not that- I'm not,” she nervously giggled, humming as you finished fixing her up. She shifted on the countertop, her legs pressing around your hips, as if afraid of you leaving.

“I wish I could give you my set of eyes,” your hands travel down to her thighs, feeling the slightly rough fabric of her tights, but that didn't make her skin any less smoother to the touch.

Her dress was basically all the way up her hips at this point, something she hadn't paid the necessary attention to, due being too busy making out with you — and in the pit of her stomach, a small flicker of panic started rising. This was reckless, so reckless. It is not like she didn’t think of the possibility of things escalating while coming back to the hotel with you, but in her head, she would have more control over the situation — and with that, manage to keep her secrets uncovered.

But she didn’t. Her body was reacting in its own and her mind was cloudy. She had zero control.

Before you could even touch the zipper of her dress, Natasha froze. Her breathing hitched — barely noticeable if you weren’t paying attention, but you were. Her hands, which had been so confident just moments ago, trembled as they pressed gently against your chest.

“Wait,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if it might shatter if spoken any louder. “Just.. give me a second,” she muttered, avoiding your gaze as she detangled from your grasp, getting off the counter and hurrying to the bathroom.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the quiet room. Natasha leaned against the sink, gripping its edges so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her reflection stared back at her — flushed cheeks, wide eyes, red marks staining the corners of her lips.

Why did she have to choose a matte lipstick?

Her fingers brushed against her side, over the spot where the bullet scar lay. She had hidden it from you before, in that photo. It had seemed harmless at the time — a small deception to preserve the image of herself she wanted you to see. But now, in the raw intimacy of this moment, it felt like a betrayal.

She turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto her face in an attempt to calm the storm raging inside her. She couldn’t lose this moment — not to her own fears, not to a scar that was just one more piece of her long and painful past. But how could she explain it? How could she show you this part of her without ruining everything?

Natasha pressed her hands to her face, inhaling deeply. It’s just a scar, she told herself. It doesn’t define me. It doesn’t change who I am.

Except that it does. And a small tear rolls down her cheek.

You’re not in the Red Room anymore, she reminded herself, gripping the sink harder. And this person… they’re different. They don’t expect you to be perfect. They just want you.

The doubt, the fears that you managed to keep away from her in the past month, came back to her — only a thousand times more painful.

Regardless, Natasha didn't have any more time to think, before she heard the doorknob turning, the damn door she didn't lock opening. She kept her head low, her body stiff as she continued to hold onto the sink. You could see her reflection in the mirror clearly. The fact that she was silently shedding tears.

“You're crying,” you state quietly, taking baby steps towards her.

“And you're bold,” she chuckles, the sound a mixture of tears and sarcasm. She sniffles, using her arm to wipe her nose. “Entering like that.”

“You're crying.” you shake your head, once again standing face to face with her. You reach out your hands and cup her tear stained cheeks. “What's wrong?”

“I…” she debated what to tell you. That she was afraid of physical intimacy since she was young? Or that she hid a crucial thing about her body all this time? “I don't know-”

“You’re hiding something from me and are afraid I’m gonna hate you?” you inquire, voice serious — not mocking, not pressuring.

What?

Her eyes go wide instantly, the tears stopping. You wipe them away from her cheeks, expression softening again as you prepared to explain yourself. “You’re part of a New Yorker superheroes team. There was absolutely nothing that spoke about your personality in SparkMatch, which is expected, Nat. I’m aware that there’s a lot that I don’t know about you. I know where I’m getting myself into.”

“For the longest time, all I wanted was company. Someone to talk to, to listen to me, and that I could listen to them. Someone to see me,” she quietly confesses, leaning her cheeks into your palms. “You did just that. You’re that person.. you filled a huge void in me. You saved me in more ways that you could ever know.”

“I’m so grateful for that.” you lean closer, pressing a lingering kiss against her forehead. She shyly wrapped her arms around your waist, her eyes searching yours once more.

“It’s not just that…” she adds, her breath hitching. She was now determined to continue from where you left off on the entrance counter. “I longed- I long for.. touches, and..”

“And closeness,” you complete, head dipping down and tucking itself into the crook of her neck. “Geez, you smell delicious,”

“It’s… Twilly D’Hermès,” breathless, Natasha speaks, a small hint of pride in her tone as she spoke about her moisturizing cream. “My body lotion,”

It wasn’t cheap, but she liked to spoil herself sometimes. It was also great to deal with the constant bruises and cuts on her skin. Your brows raise in surprise, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips. Natasha could feel the warmth of your breath on her neck, a surge of happiness and ecstasy washing over her.

“That’s.. pretty luxurious, one can say.”

“Can’t a woman spoil herself sometimes?” she retorts — interrupted by a gasp that left her as your lips pressed against her neck. Her eyes flutter shut, her hands holding onto your arms as she did her best to keep talking. “B-Besides, years of bruises and burns require good skincare.”

“I see,” you hum, nuzzling into her, into the spot behind her ear. She felt soft today. Now you knew the reason. After staying like that for a while, you pull back, looking into her eyes with a gaze that showed admiration, respect and concern towards her comfort. “Can I?”

She deeply inhales, feeling you reach for her dress again — only more mindfully now. Shrugging her jacket off her shoulders, she places it next to her on the sink and nods.

She was prepared for the question.

“Okay, hold on.” you kneel down, beginning to untie her boots, catching her by surprise. You remove them and place them aside, before slowly pulling down her tights. “Damn. Why did you have to wear something so complicated?”

“I wanted to feel beautiful,” she quietly chuckles, allowing you to get rid of the excessive fabric on her body.

So, it's time for the dress. You got up to your feet and slid your palm up her spine, holding onto the zipper and then pulling it down. Natasha was expectant, self aware, but mainly, consumed by her desire — finally awake again.

“I'll make you feel beautiful,” you nod, pushing the dress straps off her shoulders and sliding them down her arms.

“You already do.” She breathes.

She doesn't stop you from getting her off the dress. But when it stops below her hips, she tenses up. That's because she sees you freezing. To look at her. It's strange, to have someone look at her body with no apparent emotion. You didn't look at her as if she were a prize to win — an object, or a weapon. Helping her step off the dress, you toss it aside on the floor. Now nothing was disturbing you from taking her in. Her black underwear. Her toned muscles — which you assumed were from years of workout. And her scars. Cuts, a few small keloids, and the bullet scar.

“You didn’t have to hide this from me.” you breathe, dropping to your knees once more as you held her by the hips. She found herself leaning against the sink’s counter, breathing ragged, every nerve of her body buzzing in anticipation. “Makes you even more gorgeous.”

“I—”

“You're fucking gorgeous.” you hiss, kissing above the place that once had a bullet in.

Yup. Her dreams came true.

“Please,” she murmurs, not knowing how to vocalize what she wanted. But the heat pooling between her thighs told you everything.

Your lips make a path from her hip down to her pelvic bone, right hand grabbing her thigh and putting it on your shoulder — coaxing a gasp out of her. Your palm covers her scar, as though it were something precious about herself — making her feel safe, above everything. Natasha, for a moment, almost lost her balance — having to hold her weight with one foot — as your pointer finger hooked around the soaked fabric of her panties, pulling it to the side. You gave her one look. One look before diving in.

You are no longer alone.

She took the message. And her world exploded.

Your tongue working on her — licking past her folds, tasting her — as if committing to memory, and not just using her — her slender fingers tangling into your hair, pulling your head closer to her core, soft moans leaving her mouth as if there was no tomorrow.

“Yes,” She gasps, her hips bucking, seeking more of the kitten licks you showered her clitoris with. “Don't stop.”

None of her sexual experiences had been good in the past — not in the slightest. So having something so good, so pleasuring — it was truly her first.

In the Norwegian hotel, Natasha was more Avenged than she ever was with the Avengers. In the end of the night, she ended up with you on the bed — your clothes making each other company on the floor, as she lost herself — in your body, your scent, your hands on her,

and your love for her.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

You were tucked under the covers when the bathroom's door opened — the hot steam of her recent shower now dispersing and mingling with the air. You sat up, leaning against the headboard as you watched her with a smile.

Natasha walked towards you, the white hotel's towel in her hands, drying her damp hair. She was wearing a t-shirt you lent her, which was probably three times her size. She was smiling. Happily.

Before climbing back onto the bed, she absentmindedly placed the wet towel on an armchair. She gently settled onto your lap, straddling your hips, her head instantly nesting on your shoulder.

“Hi, baby.” you embrace her.

“If I have to leave the country, for any reasons,” she says, her hands tracing random patterns on your back. “Will you come with me?”

“I'll go anywhere with you.” you reply, voice unwavering.

She released the air she didn't know she was holding, and allows herself to relax her sore body. She nuzzled closer as you played with her still damp hair.

Maybe dating apps weren't so bad, after all. If she ever saw her team or Tony again, she would thank him for making her install it.

“Oh, and by the way,”

Natasha whispers, finally. Probably, you were aware. But it was one more thing about her true self she wanted you to know.

“My name is Natalia.”

[flkwh0re]

Try it, Bite it, Lick it, Spit it

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Strap-on usage (R receiving), Brief fingering, Degradation, Praise, Use of the word slut, Mirror sex, Hair pulling/gripping, Sex in a public bathroom (gross Natasha 😕), Overstimulation (R receiving), Oral (R receiving)

Word Count: 1.1k

Authors Note: Didn’t really have much going to this fic, I just wanted to make a fic with this title. (Stream Guess by Charli xcx and Billie Eilish 😚)

The loud music that blared through club felt like it shook your core. It was so loud you couldn't even hear your own thoughts, which was a total lie. You just couldn't think because of the gorgeous red head that had showed up with Yelena.

Yelena was your best friend, along side her girlfriend Kate Bishop. You'd known Yelena since your first day of college, she was your roommate at the time. You did everything with her and basically knew everyone she did, but not this woman.

"Y/n, come here!" Yelena yelled to you, the thick Russian accent being the only reason you were able to hear her. "I want you to meet my sister, Natasha. Natasha this is Y/n." You weren't sure how you should greet such a beautiful woman, so you stupidly stuck your hand out for a handshake.

"It's nice to meet you, Y/n." The woman said with very captivating grin on her lips. "Like wise, Natasha." The use of her full name caused her to cringe a little, "Just Nat." You awkwardly smile and nod.

The night moved very slowly, mostly due to your soberness, but also the countless men that would hit on Natasha ruining your small talk. "Let me buy you a drink, help you enjoy yourself a little." Natasha suggested. "I've gotta be able to get home, last time I trusted Yelena getting me home we spent half the night on the streets trying to figure out the gps." A grin creeped on Natasha's face at your jab directed at her sister.

"I can get you home sweetheart, it's no big deal." You were saved by the dim lights of the corner you and Natasha were in, you were sure your face was scarlet red. "Fine." Following your agreement, drink after drink kept coming, and now Natasha's and yours conversation flowed like you'd known each other for years.

"C'mon Nat, dance with me." You pleaded with the older woman, tugging on the sleeve of her jacket. Eventually you dragged her onto the floor, pushing through the swarm of bodies. Her front pressed flush against your back, as you swayed to the music. Her hands possessively held onto your hips, almost as if she were afraid you'd get away from her to go dance with some helpless drunk.

Your body felt like putty in Natasha arms, the arms that were moving up and down your body as her hands gripped and groped at your curves. Her hot breath fanned on the back of your neck, her soft lips occasionally brushing the sensitive skin. "Come with me."

Your hand linked with Natasha's as you two walked off to what you assumed was to the bathroom. You were never one for a hookup, especially in a club bathroom, but Nat made you want to and so you did. Your back collided with the door as soon as it shut, Natasha briefly fumbling with the lock before her lips hungrily connected with yours.

Her tongue laced with yours, as your lips molded together. Your mouths so connected that your moans didn't escape her mouth, but rather she swallowed them. "Fuck you're so hot, I wish Yelena brought you around." Natasha leaned back to admire your current state. Your hair pushed around, clothes slightly wrinkled, your gradually weakening legs as Natasha worked you up.

Her lips returned on yours, and her fingers found new ground on the clasp of your jeans. She tugged it apart and slipped her hand past the lacy material of your soaked panties. "Fuck pretty girl, you're so wet." She rasped, eliciting a pitiful whimper from you. "All for you." You could barely muster the words.

Natasha's rough fingers rubbed your clit just the right way, almost too good for you to bear. "F-fuck Nat! Feels s'good." You managed out the words that felt caged in your throat, and you could tell she knew you were struggling by the small laugh that came from her.

"You like that, hm? Wanna see how much you like this?" She took your hand rubbing it against her crotch, the feeling of silicone begging for release rubbed against your hand. You groaned loudly just from thinking about her fucking you with it. "I think you're wet enough, turn around." Natasha demanded, and you obeyed.

Natasha tugged down your jeans, along with her own. She slid the toy into you with ease and a little force, which caused your front to be flush against the sink. Natasha's hands roughly gripped your hips, yours holding onto whatever you could grab. "Fuck you're so tight, I wish I could feel you. I bet you feel so good." Her filthy words making you moan, so loud that she covered your mouth.

Her hips slapped against yours so rapidly it was almost painful, but the pleasure of the toy rubbing against your deepest parts made all that pain unrecognizable. "You're doing so good for me Y/n, being such a good girl."

Your hair was tugged and balled up into Natasha's hand in a matter of seconds, as she forced you to look in the mirror. "Watch yourself get fucked by me you slut, fucked by your best friends sister. By a woman you just met." The harsh, degrading and words that left her lips made you even more turned on.

"Nat, 'm close. 'M gonna cum, Please!" You begged. "Yea, gonna cum on my cock? Go on then, cum for me." And you did, Natasha made you see stars as she mercilessly fucked you through your orgasm.

Before you knew it she had you sitting on the counter, your jeans completely discarded somewhere. Her head between your thighs as she ate you out. You were too sensitive to take it, but to fucked out to use your words to beg her to stop. Your second orgasm nearing and all you could manage was a little whimper, "C'mon use your words, you got this baby. You're doing so good for me, you can do it." She praised.

"Please, I need- I can't take it!" Her pace quickened, it was so painful but you needed release so bad. "Nat, 'm cuming!"

"You did so good, let me help you clean up and I'll take you home okay?" You nodded, "But what about Yelena?" You asked as Natasha helped support your body, so you could redress. "I'll text her, don't worry your pretty little head." She said as a placed a little kiss on your forehead.

That night wasn't the end of you and Natasha. Eventually after a few hook ups she asked to take you on a date, which went so well it turned into multiple dates, then you were officially together.

MASTERLIST

[scar-lie]

Distraction (Natasha)

Summary : you make sure Natasha finished her paperworks before tomorrow

Pairing : Natasha Romanoff x Fem ! Reader

Warning : Nat has penis, creampie, oral, cockwarming, little bit of daddy kink

Word count : 1,297

Cherryleamontober

NO one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

Natasha groans while gripping the edge of her table so hard that her chuckles are turning white.

"Fuck…mmhhh,” she moans, then starts to gather your hair into an oonytail and starts to thrust her hips into your mouth.

“That feels good,” she sighs, feeling how warm and wet your mouth is. Then you massage her balls, making her a little bit tense but in a good way.

“Don't baby….shit, I’m going to blow if you keep going that,” she whispers, stopping her intrusion.

“Then do it...” you whisper after you pop out her cock, then start to give her a sloppy handjob.

“I’m going to swallow it,” you smirk, and she looks down at you with a smirk too.

“Oh yeah, why don't you give me a show” she sat down on her chair, then lean back.

You happily obliged, then started to lick her length, then sucked the tip of her cock, making her groan.

“I know you're near, honey,” you whisper before you take her length and start to bob your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks and massaging her balls, which leaves her a moaning mess.

“God, Y/N...shit that feels good,” she groans, bucking her hips to meet you halfway, but you push her hip down, making her whine.

“Stay still...” then you switch to her balls and suck it; she moans, gripping the handle of her chair, and throws her head back.

"Shut, it's coming fuck! "You quickly pop out her balls, then go back to sucking her tip and jacking the rest of her length until she cum in your mouth that you happily swallow every last bit.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” she keeps moaning, then when she stops, you swallow the last cum on your tongue, then show her that you swallow, making her twitch.

“Fuck baby, I want to fuck you so bad...” She whispered, and you chuckled at her and sat on her left leg.

"Well, you still have work to do... or do you want Fury to be in the bad mood tomorrow?” she groans and rolls her eyes. She's been working for 8 hours straight, no break, in her office, and it's making her nuts. All she wanted to do was just lay down and rest.

You chuckle and then smirk when an idea pops up in your head, making Natahsa look at you, curious. 

“How about this...” You pause then run your fingertips on her still hard cock; that's gain still twitching.

“I’ll reward you once you finish this paperwork, huh? "She is still confused but loves the idea of reward.

“I’ll let you do whatever you want to do to me... anything,” she quickly smirked when she heard the word anything, and it gave her a boost to finish her paperwork.

“Anything? Are you sure?” you softly smile at Ger and Hum.

“Yes anything…. Anything my love wants...maybe a...creampie? "You whisper the last word in her ear, and she quickly drags the chair to the table, ready to start her work.

"But...” she stopped before she could touch her keyboard, because, you know, there's no stopping her once she touches the keyboard.

“Of course, I’m not going to let you have it in an easy way,” she whined, and you chuckled, but she agreed neither the less. 

“What's the but? "You stood up and took off every piece of clothing you have, leaving you naked in front of her.

"Sexy,” she whistles, and you chuckle. After years, her reaction is still the same.

Then you straddle her and hover your entrance above her cock; she rests her hands on your hips, eyes looking up at you.

“I wanna give you a taste of the reward... I'm going to cockwarm you, baby,” she twitches and grips your hips, which will probably leave a bruise tomorrow.

Fuck yeah, come on so I could fill you up.” You didn't waste another second and quickly went down to take her length.

It's not easy since she's bigger than what you've had before but bearable, but still, it takes you time to fully seat her in you.

“Fuck that feels so fucking good shit,” she lightly bowed her lips when you already took her in, so you took her face and made you look at her.

“I’m sorry, love, but no moving. You clench around her, and she rests her head on your right shoulder. 

“But it feels so good,” she whispers, and you chuckle.

"Sorry, but the fun will be after your paperwork,” she groans, finding the situation unfair but still wanting to have that reward.

"Fine,” then she starts to work again.

This is the first time you let her in without a condom, so you know it will be hard for her to focus, but still she works, even though she needs to stop once in a while.

After 2 hours of you teasing her, bucking your hips, clenching around her, and kissing her neck, you even leave some hickeys that Natasha doesn't really mind; she finally finished. 

“Finally finished,” she throws her hand up, and you chuckle, seeing how happy she is.

“And now, I’m going to claim those fucking rewards now,” she quickly wrapped her arms around you and stood up, cockstally unside, then moved to the bedroom.

“You really have so much energy, huh? "She chuckled, then laid you down on the bed and took off her shirt.

“Of course... It's baby time... and I’ll get to fill you up this time,” you nod. Play her baby hair on the back of her neck.

"Yeah, you like that idea,” she said, then started to slowly thrust her hips.

“Hell yeah,” then she took your left knee and hooked it on her shoulder, then the other hook it on her arm, making sure you're spread wide open for her.

“Fuck, that feels good,” you moan, feeling her reach your pelvis and clenching around her.

“Gosh, fuck, I need more,” then she leans down and starts sucking your niople, making you moan while she sets a fast and hard pace.

“Fuck fuck that feels good, Daddy more...” you moan, throwing your head back and start clawing her back.

“Fuck fuck you feel so fucking good.” She reaches down and starts to toy with your clitoral area, and you start to shake, feeling how close you were. Natasha sits up and takes your hips and brings your hips up and starts to fuck you hard, making you grip her wrist and toss your head.

“Fuck fuck fuck, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum,” you scream, moan, and squirt at Natasha, but Natasha didn't stop; she kept the pace and made sure to meet you halfway, making you whine and moan a mess from overstimulation.

“Nat fuck wait...oh god,” she said, taking the two pillows next to you and placing them under your hips, making sure your hips are elevated.

Then she leans down, nipping, biting, and sucking your neck, making sure she leaves marks as much as possible.

“God, you feel good around me, shit.” She groans. Her hips are getting sloppy, so you wrap your legs around her and start to help her reach her orgasm.

“Gonna cum oh fuck fuck fuck.” she screamed and cum deep insider you while she buried her face in your neck.

“Fuck that feels good,” you whisper when she stops, then puts her weight on you, so you comb her hair, cherishing this moment.

“From now on, no condoms allowed,” she said, and she lay down next to you, making sure she wouldn't pull out, and positioning you in a spooning position.

“Sleep baby, have some rest, and regain your strength.

Because I’m not done with you,” you chuckle, but close your eyes, sleeping while happily cockwarming her.

[diaryoflife]

[The Avengers talking during breakfast together]

Tony, looking at everyone: What would you do if your partner stabbed you?

Y/N, talking about Natasha: If my wife stabbed me I’d thrust myself deeper into the blade just to be a few inches closer to her but that’s just me, I don’t know.

*Natasha smirks and hits the back of Y/N’s head whilst the team laughs*

[sunswish]

☆, — 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 | 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟

✧.* 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; Natasha couldn’t sleep after her last mission.

✧.* 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠; sad nat, comfort, fluff, mentions of death.

✧.* 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 998.

✧.* 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬; just something small I wrote because I wish I could give nat all the love she deserves. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes I might have made.

✧.* a special spot for my lovely @notanactressyayy! This profile exists thanks to her encouragement. ♡

“Nat,” your voice was soft when it reached Natasha’s ears and her tired eyes found yours. With a gentle smile forming on her lips, she closed her laptop, the graphic pictures from her last mission disappearing as the screen turned off.

“Why did you wake up, my love?” She asked calmly, her arms wrapping around your waist. Your hands found her hair, your fingers massaging her scalp, and the air inside her lungs seemed fresher now.

“You left,” you answered in a sleepy tone that made her heart swell. She buried her face on your stomach when you sat on her desk, your scent flooding her senses.

“I thought you wouldn’t notice,” she lied against your shirt, her green eyes avoiding yours. “You should go back to bed, I will be there soon,” another lie.

You sighed softly, tilting her head up to meet your eyes, and Natasha feared she would find deception in them — but, as if to shake away the insecurities of her past, she found love. A warmth spread through her chest, and she swore it was something sent directly from heaven.

It was divine.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” you whispered, giving her forehead a gentle kiss. Your fingers traced their way down her cheeks and her skin tingled under your digits. She thought about your words for a moment before speaking.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said — confessed. Her hands tightened on your waist in an attempt to keep her emotions in check, to keep them bottled up. Her shoulders got tense, and she frowned a little, hesitant. “Today’s mission was… rough.”

There was something about the way she pronounced the word, something in the weight of it on her tongue — it wasn't just an usual mission. Your gaze held hers, trying to read her eyes. What happened out there? How much pain was she hiding from you? How restless was her soul?

“We walked into an ambush,” she explained quietly, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she looked away. “Things got difficult in the open field and we went to a safe house nearby, but there were more of them waiting for us. I should have considered this possibility, I should have been more cautious.”

Natasha’s hand let go of your waist to run through her hair, and the lights casted a soft, yellow glow on her skin. The dark circles under her eyes became more pronounced, and she rubbed them.

“If I had checked everything before letting my team go inside,” she said regretfully. “Maybe they would still be here. Maybe they would have returned to their families. But they aren’t, and their families won’t ever see them again.”

She looked down at her lap, a lonely tear streaming down her face. “And it’s my fault,” she whispered, shaking her head slightly, and all you wanted was to take that weight off her shoulders, to give her some peace.

“No,” you uttered in a quiet voice, cupping her cheeks with tenderness. You wiped the single tear that rolled down her face, your touch fond and careful. “It’s not your fault. The evil of others and their cruelty are not your fault.”

Natasha looked at you in confusion; how could you show such compassion for someone like her, flawed and undeserving of redemption? The warmth of your palms against her face spread through her skin, your love seeping inside her veins and flowing through her body, nurturing her broken soul.

“I don’t deserve it,” she whispered, closing her eyes and nuzzling into your touch, her silent tears lingering on your fingers. Your lips found her face, pressing gentle kisses to her forehead and cheeks.

“Yes, you do. You're proof that people can be good, that there is still humanity inside people’s hearts. You dedicate your life to save, to heal the world we live in,” you tilted her head to look into her eyes, and deep inside, you saw it — the flicker of belief. Everything that came out of your mouth, Natasha took it like an ultimate truth.

“If there’s someone who truly deserves love in this world, Natasha, that person is you,” the words left your mouth like a silent vow, meant only for her. They were a promise she would carry with her forever.

She melted into your embrace, letting herself be held, letting the weight on her chest dissolve. Her fingers traced absent patterns on your back, the silent language of gratitude. Her breath steadied against your neck, and peace finally found its way to her heart.

Natasha sought your warmth, her fingers grazing yours before intertwining them. Foreheads pressed together, she breathed you in.

“Thank you, milaya,” she whispered, sincerity dripping from her lips. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

She held you tighter, leaning in and kissing you with reverence, savoring your taste, the warmth you sparkled inside her. In your arms, she was safe, sheltered from the storm. Breaking apart, you brushed a hair strand behind her ear, eager to see every part of her, and she smiled.

“I think I’m ready to sleep now,” she murmured, both of you glancing at the clock on the wall. A soft chuckle left your throat and her chest flooded with serenity.

“That’s good, because I can barely keep my eyes open,” you teased and a smirk formed on her face. You guided her back to the bedroom, the dark room bathing you two in shadows.

When you both crawled under the covers, the soft mattress dipped under the weight, and Natasha quickly found her way into your arms. Your hands stroked her hair, fingers gently caressing her scalp, and you could feel the way her body relaxed against yours.

“I love you, Natalia,” you whispered to her and she hummed against your neck, the low sound reverberating through your body.

“I love you too, milaya.”

For the first time in years, Natasha slept until sunlight, no nightmares or doubts creeping into her rest.

[wandasvamp]

care

— pairing | natasha x reader

— synopsis | nat helps you relax after a stressful day

— warnings | smut, top!nat, bottom!reader, shower sex, mommy kink, fingering, praising and degradation, aftercare, fluff (18+)

— word count | 1.1k

You were currently taking a shower after having a rough day at work; it’s like the universe decided to make your life hell today. You arrived late at work, your boss decided to be a bitch and the deadline for an important project is in two days. The hot water running down your body makes your sore muscles relax and you sigh in relief.

You jump when you feel two hands squeezing your waist and a chin on your shoulder; at least you think it is. You smile recognizing the perfume you gave to her on your anniversary, it’s your favorite and she knows it.

“Hi, my love.” She whispered in your ear and kissed that specific spot on your neck, making you swallow down a whine. “Baby, come on. You know that’s my weak spot and how I get when you kiss it.” You mumble while closing your eyes, tilting your head while Nat continues kissing your neck all the way down to your shoulder.

“I know honey, I know. That’s why I'm kissing it.” She laughs. “I can see how stressed and tense you are, baby. Let me take care of you, make you feel good.” She runs her hands across your stomach, going up to your boobs, squeezing them and pinching your nipples. You try to hold a moan in but fail miserably, feeling embarrassed by how fast you got aroused just by her touch. “Let it all out princess. I want to hear every sound that comes out of that pretty little mouth.” You can feel her signature smirk on your neck and a moan slips out. “That's my good girl.” She rasps and you are pretty sure you could cum just by her praises.

Her fingers start to rub circles on your clit while the other teases your hole. “Honey, please… I need you so bad, don’t tease.” She sucks your skin and then slams two fingers inside you, making you release a loud moan. “Aww, does my little slut like that?” She mocks and you nod. “Use your words.” You whimper, loving the roughness.”I love it, mommy. Fuck, I love when you´re inside me, filling me up, making me feel good.” You blurt out while she pumps her fingers in and out fast, still rubbing tight circles on your clit with the other hand.

You are a moaning mess and you know Nat´s ego is through the roof right now, she knows that only her can make you feel like that; only she has that effect on you; you´re hers to ruin.

She curls her fingers, hitting that spongy spot that drives you insane. “I want you to beg for it, baby.” She whispers in your ear and bites your earlobe. She can definitely feel you clenching around her and she knows you´re close. “I can feel you squeezing me, whore. Do you want to cum? Do you want to soak mommy's fingers?” She pushes your face on the tile in front of you, gripping your hair to steady herself.

“Yes! Yes mommy, please. I want to cum for you, please!” She slides her fourth finger in, making sure to stretch you out. You were too lost in the moment that you didn’t notice that she had turned you around to face her until she spoke. “Hold it. Fuck baby, you’re so beautiful, and all mine.” She mumbles around your nipple before starting to suck on it, making you throw your head back with all the pleasure running through your veins.

“All yours mommy, only yours.” You pant and pull her face closer to yours. “Please make me cum, mommy. I want to make a mess for you. Fuck your slut’s pussy.” She grunts and somehow she picks up her pace and goes faster than before. The water is still running but the only thing you can hear is how wet you are, and the low moans that Nat is letting out with every noise you make.

She slams her lips on yours and you wrap your arms around her neck. Moaning in each other’s mouths, Nat whispers. “Cum for me, baby. I know you want to. Be mommy’s good girl and make a mess on my fingers.” That’s all it took for you to climax; you didn’t even notice the tight grip you had on Nat’s neck, accidentally scratching it. She didn’t seem to mind that as she kept the same pace. You were confused and feeling a little overstimulated already.

“N-Nat, what are you doing?” You ask between breaths and then you see it, her damn smirk. “You know that’s not my name, sweetheart. Mommy wants to make you squirt today. You won’t be able to walk anyway so let’s enjoy it while we can, right?” She whispers against your lips, squeezing your throat to make it harder to breathe but not enough to completely cut your air supply. “F-Fuck mommy, ‘s too much.” Your knees are weak, you’re almost falling but Nat holds you up.

“You can go one more time, honey. You have taken more than this before and we both know you like it.” With one more thrust and squeeze of your neck, you fall apart all over her hand. She kisses your cheek and whispers praises while she lets you ride out your high. She patiently waits for you to calm down to slowly remove her fingers from you. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” She asks while gently washing your body, cleaning you up. “I’m more than okay. I’m perfect.” You giggle and she can’t help but smile after seeing the smile on your face.

She picks you up, leading you out of the shower to sit you on the counter. “I’m gonna dry you up okay?” You nod while closing your eyes, the exhaustion hitting you like a truck. When you open your eyes again, Nat has already dressed you both up; you go closer to her and nuzzle into her chest while she brushes her hair. “We are going to bed soon, love. Just finishing this up okay?” She whispers and you nod again, feeling her warmth.

She picks you up again and you cling to her as much as possible. “Let’s go to sleep, baby koala. You need all the rest you can get.” She says while laying down on the bed, pulling you with her. She pulls the blankets up and tucks it around you both. She lays your head on your chest while she plays with your hair. “Good night, baby girl. I love you so much. You are my everything.” She kisses the top of your head and smiles. She knew you were already asleep, but she couldn’t help it; she was more than grateful to have you, to be loved by you. It was her privilege and she will forever cherish it.

[amethystarachnid]

hi!! natasha romanoff x fem!reader 13 trope pls? thank you!💗

SWAPPED

⤷ NATASHA A. ROMANOFF

ᯓ★ Pairing: Natasha A. Romanoff x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance

ᯓ★ From: MARVEL Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: during a mission you and Natasha get body swapped by an artifact so, until Bruce and Tony find a way to get you back in your own body, you two are blocked. The already disastrous situation only worsens if you think that you are inside the body of the woman you have a crush on

ᯓ★MARVEL Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ TW(s): some innuendos and tony's jokes

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The rhythmic hum of the Quinjet fills the space between you and Natasha. It’s one of those comfortable silences, the kind that only comes from spending years side by side in life-or-death situations. You sit across from her, legs slightly spread, fingers playing with the frayed edges of your gloves. She's leaned back, arms crossed, her head tilted against the wall, the soft overhead light catching the reddish strands of her hair.

You shouldn’t be staring. But you are.

Her eyes are closed, lashes dark against her pale skin, and for a moment you let yourself have this—watching her like this, peaceful, completely unaware of the way your heart hammers against your ribs just from being near her. You tell yourself it’s harmless. She doesn’t know. She’ll never know.

It’s been like this for a while now. Years, actually. You’re friends—good friends—and that’s all it’s supposed to be. That’s what you keep telling yourself. But there are nights, in the quiet of your own room, when you replay moments between you two, when the air feels heavier, charged, and wonder if maybe she ever thought about you the way you think about her.

But then you remember every sly smirk she’s thrown at a cute waiter, every flirtatious comment she’s batted toward some attractive guy during missions, and you push it all back down. Natasha Romanoff doesn’t like women, and she definitely doesn’t like you. At least, not like that.

“Earth to Y/N,” Natasha’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and your heart stutters painfully.

You blink, realizing too late that her eyes are open now, green and sharp, staring right at you. Caught.

“Zoned out there for a second,” you say, forcing a small smile, hoping your face isn’t betraying you.

Natasha quirks a brow, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Thinking about the mission?”

You nod too quickly. “Yeah. Of course.”

She hums, clearly not buying it but letting you off the hook. “You’re cute when you lie.”

The words hit you square in the chest, even though you know they’re nothing more than a tease. She always does this—throws out little comments that make your head spin, but never with any real weight behind them. Still, your stomach flutters embarrassingly.

You scoff, trying to play it cool. “You’d know. You’re the queen of lies.”

She grins, sharp and amused. “Touché.”

The comms crackle, and you’re grateful for the distraction. “Approaching the target,” comes Sam’s voice through the speakers. “We’re two minutes out.”

You pull yourself together, focusing on the mission. It’s supposed to be simple: in and out, retrieve some weird artifact that SHIELD flagged as dangerous. But nothing ever really goes according to plan.

The Quinjet dips lower, and you and Natasha both rise, moving in sync like you always do. Her presence is grounding, even when your heart is a mess. She gives you a look, the one that says we’ve got this, and you nod.

The building is dark, abandoned, with only the occasional flicker of a broken light illuminating the dust-filled air. You and Natasha slip through the corridors with ease, your footsteps nearly silent. It’s like this every time—the two of you moving together like a well-rehearsed dance. But still, you feel the tension in the pit of your stomach. Maybe it’s the mission. Maybe it’s just her.

You find the artifact in a room that looks more like an ancient temple than part of a crumbling office building. It sits on a pedestal, glowing faintly—a sphere of dark glass with strange runes etched along its surface.

“Looks easy enough,” you whisper, inching closer.

“Famous last words,” Natasha murmurs beside you.

You shoot her a look. “You jinxed it.”

She smirks, but there’s caution in her eyes now. “Let me take a look first.”

You step aside as she approaches the pedestal, fingers hovering over the orb but not touching it. There’s a beat of silence, and then—because of course—something shifts in the air. A pulse radiates out from the sphere, like a ripple through water, and you barely have time to react before it hits both of you.

You feel it deep in your chest, like your whole body is being stretched and compressed all at once. There’s a sharp, blinding light, and your vision blacks out.

When you come to, everything feels... off.

You’re lying on the cold floor, but your body feels strange—heavier in places, lighter in others. There’s a weird disconnect, like your brain isn’t entirely synced with your limbs. You groan, pushing yourself up, but even your voice sounds different.

And then you see yourself.

Or rather, your body. Across the room, sitting up just like you, wearing that same expression of confusion and dawning horror.

“Y/N?” Natasha’s voice comes out of your mouth. Her eyes—your eyes—are wide.

You look down at yourself—except it’s not yourself. It’s Natasha’s body. Her black tactical suit, her gloves, her—

“Oh my god,” you breathe, hands flying to your chest where, yes, you can feel everything that makes Natasha Natasha. “This can’t be happening.”

Natasha scrambles to her feet—well, your feet. “We swapped,” she says flatly, already more composed than you feel.

“No shit,” you snap, but your voice—her voice—makes it sound more seductive than pissed.

There’s a beat of silence before Natasha quirks an eyebrow, still in your body. “I sound hot.”

You glare at her, but it’s hard to focus when your body is standing there, hands on hips, looking at you with your face. It’s beyond weird. And then there’s the fact that you’re inside Natasha’s body right now, every inch of it hyper-aware.

You try not to think about it. About how many times you’ve imagined touching her, being close to her, and now—now you are her.

“This is bad,” you mutter.

Natasha crosses her arms—your arms. “Could be worse.”

You blink at her. “How?”

She smirks. “At least I don’t have to do my own makeup tomorrow.”

Despite yourself, you snort, but the sound that comes out is so soft and melodic that it makes you self-conscious all over again.

“Okay,” you say, trying to focus. “We need to fix this. Get back to the Quinjet, call for backup—something.”

But as you move, you realize that walking in her body feels different—more balanced, stronger. Your limbs respond, but there’s an elegance to it that you never noticed before, at least not from the inside. You can’t help but glance down, and immediately regret it.

Natasha catches you staring.

“Enjoying the view?” she teases, a wicked glint in your—her—eyes.

You flush, but it’s hidden behind her perfect features. “Shut up.”

“Hey, if I were you—” she gestures to herself, “—I’d take advantage of the situation.”

You want to die.

But the thing is, she has no idea. No idea that inside your head, the thoughts are spiraling. Being in her body is like standing too close to the sun—intense, blinding, dangerous. Your brain is a mess of don’t think about it and holy shit, I’m her right now.

“Let’s just get out of here,” you say, voice tight.

You make your way back through the building, trying your best to focus on walking normally, not gawking at the way her body moves, how natural it feels, how strong. But you can’t help the intrusive thoughts—the ones that creep in despite your best efforts.

I wonder what it feels like to fight like her. To stretch, to—

You shake your head, forcing your mind away from the edge.

Natasha, meanwhile, seems to be having a great time. She whistles at one point, and you glare at her.

“Really?”

“What? I’ve never had your legs before. They’re nice.”

You want to scream. Or melt into the floor.

When you finally get back to the Quinjet, you both sit down hard, exhausted and overwhelmed. The artifact is in a containment box now, but there’s no telling how to reverse whatever the hell it did.

“We’ll figure it out,” Natasha says, running a hand through your hair.

You nod, but your mind is still racing. This body swap—being in her skin—it’s like every buried feeling you’ve ever had is now screaming at you. And the worst part is, you’re terrified that you’ll slip. That you’ll say something, or do something, that gives it all away.

Because if there’s one thing you know, it’s that you can’t let Natasha find out how you really feel.

But sitting here, in her body, with her teasing you like it’s all just a game—it’s going to be harder than you ever thought.

The Quinjet touches down at the compound just as the sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows across the tarmac. You’re gripping the edge of the seat so hard that your knuckles—Natasha’s knuckles—turn white. Beside you, Natasha flexes your hands, examining them with curiosity, like she’s still amused by the whole body swap disaster.

“This is so weird,” you mutter under your breath, adjusting your posture. Every tiny movement feels strange, foreign. The suit that usually fits Natasha like a second skin now molds to you, and the weight of her body, the strength in her muscles, is something you’re still not used to. Every step feels like you’re walking in a too-real dream.

Natasha glances at you with your face and shrugs. “I think I’m handling it pretty well.”

You shoot her a glare but it doesn’t have the same impact when it’s coming from her eyes.

Sam’s waiting at the hangar, leaning against a crate, his arms crossed, but the moment he spots the two of you descending the ramp, he frowns. “Everything go okay? You guys look… off.”

You try to open your mouth to explain, but Natasha beats you to it, stepping forward in your body with her usual swagger. “Define okay,” she says, your voice sounding way too confident.

Sam blinks, glancing between the two of you. “Wait—what?”

“Yeah,” you say, gesturing to yourself. “We, uh, swapped.”

“Swapped,” Sam repeats slowly, like he’s trying to process whether you’re joking.

Natasha gives him a grin. Your grin. “Body swapped.”

Sam’s jaw drops open, and then he bursts out laughing, his voice echoing through the hangar. “No. No way.”

You groan. “It’s not funny!”

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” Sam counters, wiping a tear from his eye. “I mean, look at you two.”

“Can we just get inside?” you snap, not really in the mood for jokes—not when you’re wearing Natasha’s body like some awkward cosplay.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam waves you through, still chuckling. “This is gonna be good.”

The three of you head into the compound, and you can already feel the tension building in your chest—or, well, Natasha’s chest—as you try to figure out how the hell you’re going to explain this to the rest of the team.

Of course, you don’t have to wait long.

The moment you step into the common area, Tony Stark is there, lounging on the couch with a drink in hand. Bruce is at the table, reading through something on his tablet, but both of them glance up as you and Natasha enter.

“Hey, Red, Y/N,” Tony greets, lifting his glass. “You’re back early. What’d you do, set off a self-destruct sequence to save time?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples, which feels even weirder when it’s not your head. “Tony—”

Natasha cuts in, crossing your arms over her chest. “We had a bit of an incident.”

Tony narrows his eyes, noticing the odd dynamic, the way you’re both standing, the uncomfortable distance between you. “What kind of incident?”

“Body swap,” you blurt out.

Tony stares. “Body swap? Like Freaky Friday body swap?”

You nod grimly.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Tony starts laughing so hard he nearly spills his drink. “This is perfect. Oh my god, I wish I had cameras on that mission.”

Bruce lowers his tablet, blinking in mild confusion but already looking concerned. “Wait, seriously? You two swapped bodies?”

You and Natasha both nod.

Tony, still cackling, leans back further on the couch. “This is like the greatest sitcom episode I never knew I needed. Please tell me you at least tried to do each other’s voices.”

Natasha, still in your body, smirks. “I think I nailed hers. Don’t you think?” she asks, and it’s unsettling hearing your voice laced with her sarcastic edge.

Tony snaps his fingers. “Spot on. Ten out of ten.”

“Can you just help us?” you interject, crossing Natasha’s arms tightly, feeling the tension coil in your muscles. Her muscles. “This isn’t exactly fun for me.”

Tony waves his hand dismissively, though there’s still a grin on his face. “Fine, fine. We’ll fix you. Right, Brucie?”

Bruce sighs, already getting up and walking towards his lab. “I’ll start running some tests. Come on.”

You and Natasha follow him through the compound, Tony trailing behind, still muttering about the comedy gold of this entire situation.

In the lab, Bruce starts scanning you both, asking all kinds of questions about the artifact, while Tony pokes at the readings, throwing out occasional jokes that you’re trying really hard to ignore.

“So, Y/N,” Tony says, tapping on a screen, “how does it feel to be the Black Widow for a day? Got that spy mojo flowing yet? Maybe try one of her signature flips?”

You shoot him a glare. “Not the time, Tony.”

He holds up his hands in mock defense. “Hey, I’m just saying—if I were you, I’d make the most of it. Stretch a little. Test out the flexibility.”

Natasha snorts, still in your body, clearly enjoying this more than she should.

Bruce, thankfully, clears his throat, cutting through the banter. “This isn’t going to be an easy fix,” he says, his brows furrowing as he studies the readings. “Whatever that artifact was, it didn’t just swap your consciousness—it rewrote certain biological signals. I’m going to need time to figure out how to reverse it.”

You feel your stomach sink—or Natasha’s stomach, whatever. “How long are we talking?”

Bruce hesitates. “Could be a day. Could be a week.”

You groan, leaning against the counter. “Great.”

Tony claps his hands together. “Well, in the meantime, you two get to live each other’s lives. This is going to be so entertaining.”

Natasha crosses your arms and smirks. “I think I’ll enjoy this.”

You glare at her. “Glad one of us will.”

After Bruce gives you both a few more instructions, you and Natasha head out of the lab, the weight of the situation sinking in. It hits you harder when you realize you can’t just sit around in her body without taking care of… basic things.

“So,” Natasha says casually, as you both walk towards the living quarters, “I guess we should talk about the elephant in the room.”

You glance at her. “Which one? The fact that I’m stuck in your body or the fact that Tony thinks this is hilarious?”

“No,” she says, stopping in front of her room—your room, for now. “The fact that we’re going to have to deal with… hygiene.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second. “Hygiene?”

She gives you a pointed look. “We’re going to have to shower at some point.”

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Showering. In her body.

You can already feel the heat rising to your face, and you scramble to find words. “I—I can just, you know… avoid looking.”

Natasha chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “Good luck with that.”

You glare at her, trying to seem unbothered, but your heart is racing. “You’re way too chill about this.”

She shrugs, still wearing your body with an ease that’s almost infuriating. “I’ve been through worse.”

You groan, running your hand through her red hair. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

“Or an adventure,” she says, smirking.

You try to ignore the way that makes your stomach flutter.

Hours pass, and after a painfully awkward attempt at dinner—where Tony made more jokes about the swap and Sam nearly choked laughing—you find yourself back in Natasha’s room. It’s neat, sparse, just like you expected. Her gear is lined up meticulously, and there’s a faint trace of her perfume in the air.

You’re standing in front of her mirror, still wearing her tactical suit, trying to muster the courage to actually take it off. You need to wash up. You can’t exactly avoid it forever. But the idea of seeing… everything… it’s almost too much.

“This is fine,” you mutter to yourself, tugging at the zipper.

The suit peels away, and you force yourself to keep your eyes on the wall, on the ceiling—anywhere but the mirror. But your curiosity gets the better of you, and you glance.

It’s surreal. You’ve seen Natasha in her suit a million times, in training, on missions, but seeing her body like this—knowing it’s you in there—it makes something twist painfully in your chest. You try to ignore the intrusive thoughts, the ones that creep in despite your best efforts.

Don’t look. Don’t think about it.

But you can’t help it.

You take the quickest shower of your life, eyes squeezed shut most of the time, and when you’re finally done, you throw on a set of Natasha’s pajamas, which are soft and simple but still somehow make you feel like an imposter.

You flop down on her bed, groaning into the pillow. “This is hell.”

A knock sounds at the door.

You sit up quickly. “Yeah?”

Natasha steps in—in your body—wearing one of your old T-shirts and sweatpants, looking way too comfortable. She grins. “So. How was the shower?”

You scowl. “Don’t.”

She raises her hands. “Hey, just checking.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

She shrugs, then flops onto the bed next to you, stretching out her arms—your arms—and sighs. “It could be worse.”

You turn your head to look at her, feeling the heaviness in your chest again. “Yeah? How?”

She grins. “We could’ve swapped with Tony.”

You both burst out laughing, the tension breaking, at least for a moment. But as the laughter dies down, you realize that being stuck like this, stuck with her, is going to be harder than you thought. Because every second in her body, every teasing joke, every lingering glance—it’s pushing you closer to a line you’ve been avoiding for years.

And you’re not sure how much longer you can keep pretending.

You lie there on Natasha’s bed, still in her body, staring up at the ceiling while Natasha lounges beside you in your body like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She’s got your legs crossed at the ankles, one arm draped over her stomach, and she looks almost too comfortable. You wonder if it’s that easy for her, adapting to being someone else.

But it’s not.

What you don’t realize is that behind her smirks and sarcastic comments, she’s struggling just as much as you are—maybe even more.

She glances over at you, watching herself—well, you—stare at the ceiling, your jaw tight, eyes heavy with everything you’re trying not to say. From where she’s lying, seeing her own face from the outside, it’s strange. Surreal. But what throws her off the most isn’t the swap—it’s you.

You’ve always been the reason she’s held back.

Natasha has spent years convincing herself that it’s fine—more than fine—that the friendship you two share is enough. She never let it go further, never allowed herself to say anything, because she was sure you didn’t feel the same. Every time you talked about past relationships—guys—it reinforced the wall she built around her feelings. You’d talk about dates that didn’t work out, about exes who weren’t worth the time, and even when you were clearly frustrated with how they treated you, you never mentioned anything about girls. Never once hinted.

So she buried it.

She became your closest friend, your mission partner, the person you trusted when things went to hell. She told herself that was enough. That it had to be.

But being in your body now? It’s like standing too close to a window she was never supposed to look through. She feels everything—your heartbeat, the way your chest rises and falls with every breath, the way your hands fidget when you’re anxious. It’s intimate in a way she hadn’t prepared for.

And it’s killing her.

You shift beside her, still oblivious to what’s running through her head, and groan into the pillow. “This is the worst.”

Natasha props herself up on her elbow—your elbow—and studies you. “It’s not that bad,” she teases, though her chest feels tight.

You turn your head to look at her, your—her—red hair spilling across the pillow. “You’re handling this way too well. I’m over here having an identity crisis, and you’re… what? Just chilling?”

She forces a smirk. “I’m adaptable.”

But inside, she’s far from chill.

Being in your body, it’s different from anything she’s experienced. She thought it’d be awkward, and yeah, it is, but there’s more to it. She can feel your strength in the way your muscles shift under the surface, the subtle scars from past missions that she traces absentmindedly while sitting in front of the mirror. She knows every inch of you now—every part of you that she never thought she’d be allowed to see.

And it terrifies her.

She didn’t expect this—didn’t expect that being you, even temporarily, would make her feelings harder to ignore.

Earlier, after you both left Bruce and Tony’s lab, she’d gone straight to your room. It felt weird, standing there in the doorway, in your skin, staring at your bed, your shelves, the mess of clothes in the corner. It was so you. She’d hesitated before going in, feeling like she was intruding on something personal.

But curiosity got the better of her.

She walked around the room, running her—your—fingers over your books, photos, little trinkets you’d collected. Things she recognized, things she didn’t. She sat on your bed for a moment, bouncing lightly on the mattress, wondering if you ever thought about her here, in this space, when no one was around.

The thought made her stomach twist.

And then came the harder part—the shower.

It wasn’t until she stood in front of your bathroom mirror, the water running in the background, that she realized how complicated this was. She pulled your shirt over your head, carefully, like if she rushed it would be wrong. She avoided looking too closely at first, focusing on the tiles behind her, but her eyes eventually drifted to her reflection—your reflection.

It was strange, but also… beautiful.

She knew you were gorgeous—she wasn’t blind—but seeing you this way, with nothing to hide behind, made her heart race. It wasn’t about attraction in a superficial way. It was deeper than that. It was seeing the person she cared about, vulnerable, open, even if you didn’t know it.

She felt like she was breaking some unspoken rule.

The shower itself was quick. She kept her eyes closed most of the time, focusing on the mechanics, but even that was a challenge. Feeling your body move, the way your hands—her hands—ran through your hair, it was too much. Every second in there felt like she was toeing a dangerous line.

And now, lying next to you on her bed, still in your body, it’s all she can think about.

You sigh beside her, breaking the silence. “Do you think Bruce will actually fix this?”

She shrugs. “Eventually.”

You roll onto your side to face her, propping yourself up on one elbow. It’s a surreal sight—her own face looking at her like that, soft and tired. “This is so weird,” you say. “Like… I’m talking to myself, but I’m not.”

She smiles, but there’s a tightness to it that you don’t notice.

“You’re really good at this,” you add. “The whole… hiding how weirded out you are.”

She hesitates, then says, “I’m used to pretending.”

The words come out softer than she intended, and for a second, something shifts in your expression, like you’re about to ask her what she means. But then you stop yourself, and the moment passes.

Another beat of silence stretches between you, heavy and thick.

You break it with a nervous laugh. “God, I can’t believe we’re in this mess.”

Natasha chuckles, though her mind is racing. She wants to say something—anything—to bridge the gap that’s been growing between what she feels and what she shows. But she can’t. Not when she’s convinced that if she does, she’ll lose you.

So she stays quiet, even though every part of her is screaming.

But then you say something that catches her off guard.

“You know,” you start, your voice hesitant, “when we first swapped, I was… kinda panicking. I thought you’d be pissed. I didn’t think you’d take it so well.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Why would I be pissed?”

You shrug, looking at the bedspread. “I don’t know. I guess I just thought… I don’t know. That you’d hate being stuck in my body.”

There’s something vulnerable in your voice that tugs at her chest.

She sits up slightly, looking at you more seriously. “Why would I hate it?”

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. “Because… I’m not you. I’m not the Black Widow. I don’t have your skills, your… confidence.”

Her heart aches. She never realized you felt that way.

“Y/N,” she says gently, “you’re one of the strongest people I know.”

You scoff. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m serious.” She shifts so she’s fully facing you, her legs crossed beneath her. “You think I don’t notice how much you do? How hard you train, how much you care about everyone on this team?”

You look at her—at yourself—with wide eyes, surprised by the intensity in her voice.

“I’m not in your body right now just wearing it like a suit,” she continues. “I feel it. I feel your strength. Your resilience. It’s all there.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the tension between you almost palpable.

Then you smile, shy but genuine. “Thanks, Nat.”

She swallows hard, her throat tight. “Anytime.”

You lie back down, staring up at the ceiling again, but Natasha remains sitting, watching you. She wants to say it—the thing that’s been burning in her chest for years. But she doesn’t. Not yet.

Instead, she whispers, almost too softly for you to hear, “You have no idea.”

And maybe that’s the problem.

Because while you lie there, in her body, wondering if this swap is going to break you, Natasha sits in yours, wondering if it’s the only chance she’ll ever get to be this close to you.

The next few days in each other’s bodies are, unsurprisingly, absolute chaos. The compound, usually buzzing with energy and the hum of advanced technology, now feels like a stage for the most awkward reality show ever made, starring you and Natasha as the unwilling leads.

Tony, of course, is having the time of his life.

“Alright, Y/N—” he grins one morning, leaning against the kitchen counter with a coffee in hand, “—or should I say, Natasha? How’s the super-spy life treating you? Mastered the seductive stare yet?”

You narrow Natasha’s green eyes at him, but the effect is ruined when you accidentally bump the edge of the counter with her hip. Natasha’s body is a powerhouse—every movement feels amplified, and you’re still adjusting to the strength in her limbs.

Tony smirks. “Careful, Widow. You’ll dent my kitchen before you dent my heart.”

“Tony,” you say through gritted teeth, crossing Natasha’s arms over her chest. “This is already hard enough without your commentary.”

“Hard enough?” He raises an eyebrow. “Was that an innuendo? Damn, Y/N, didn’t know you had it in you.”

You groan and glance at Natasha—who’s leaning casually against the fridge in your body, sipping coffee like none of this bothers her. She catches your look and raises your eyebrow in amusement.

“Tell him to shut up,” you mutter.

Natasha takes another sip of coffee, licking your lips—her lips?—before responding. “Why? He’s right. You’re terrible at hiding your thoughts. I can practically feel the awkwardness radiating off you.”

Tony cackles. “Oh, this is golden.”

Bruce walks into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He freezes when he sees the three of you—Tony grinning like a maniac, Natasha lounging in your body, and you trying not to break the counter with Natasha’s super strength.

“Are we still like this?” he sighs, pouring himself coffee.

“Yup,” you and Natasha answer in unison.

“I’m working on it,” Bruce mumbles, taking his mug and retreating to the lab before Tony can rope him into more banter.

But of course, Tony isn’t done.

He spends most of the day following you and Natasha around, making jokes and taking mental notes for what he calls his “future blockbuster screenplay” about two spies who swap bodies and fall in love.

“You know,” he says at lunch, spinning a fork between his fingers, “this situation would make a killer rom-com. Two partners, forced into each other’s bodies, learning deep secrets—maybe even… forbidden feelings?”

You almost choke on your food. Natasha, meanwhile, chews calmly, though you notice the slight twitch at the corner of your mouth—her tell when something gets to her.

“I’m serious,” Tony continues, pointing between you two. “You know you’re gonna come out of this with some kind of emotional breakthrough. It’s, like, body-swap 101.”

“Tony,” Natasha says dryly—your voice coming out smooth and unimpressed, “you’ve been watching too many movies.”

“And yet, I’m still right,” he replies, grinning.

You glare at him. “Just let Bruce fix this already.”

But Bruce is struggling. Despite his genius, the body swap isn’t something easily reversed. Every time he calls you into the lab for scans or bloodwork, he looks more stressed, muttering about neurological pathways and “molecular consciousness displacement” like the world’s worst bedtime story.

“We’re talking about reprogramming the body’s natural biological signals,” he explains one afternoon, running a scanner over Natasha’s body—you in Natasha’s body—again. “It’s not just swapping your consciousness. Your physical forms are literally rejecting each other.”

“Cool,” Tony says, lounging on a lab stool, “so we’re one step away from Y/N growing red hair and Nat turning into a Starbucks-loving civilian?”

Bruce gives him a withering look.

You shift uncomfortably on the exam table. “How long, Bruce? Seriously.”

He sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe a few more days? Maybe a week? I don’t want to rush this and make it worse.”

The idea of being stuck in Natasha’s body that long sends your thoughts spiraling. Not because you hate it—but because you’re terrified of slipping up. Of showing too much. You already catch yourself staring at Natasha—your own body—when she’s not looking. She wears your skin like it’s nothing, moving through the compound with her usual confidence. And it drives you insane.

But the worst part? She seems completely unaffected. Like this is just another mission to get through.

Except… it’s not.

What you don’t see is how hard Natasha’s working to hide her own cracks.

Being in your body isn’t as simple as she makes it look. The first few days, she plays it cool—leaning into the teasing, pretending she’s fine—but inside, it’s chaos. She feels everything—your racing heartbeat when she stands too close, the way your stomach flips when Tony makes an offhand comment about the two of you being too comfortable.

The worst part is your scent.

She didn’t expect it to affect her, but it does. Being in your body means being surrounded by your warmth, your softness, the little details she’s tried to ignore for years. When she lies in your bed at night, staring at the ceiling, she wonders if this is what it would feel like—if things were different.

If you wanted her.

But she doesn’t let it show.

Instead, she focuses on small things—testing your strength at the gym, running drills with Sam, even sneaking in sparring sessions with Clint. It’s weird using your body in combat—your movements are less refined than hers, but there’s a power in you she’s always noticed.

“You hit harder than you think,” Clint comments one afternoon after she knocks him to the mat in the gym.

“Thanks,” she says, wiping sweat from your brow, though it feels strange to take credit for your strength.

“You’re adjusting fast.”

She shrugs, grabbing a towel. “I adapt.”

Clint watches her for a beat, then smirks. “You know, Y/N’s been asking about extra combat training for weeks now. Maybe when this is all over, you should be the one to help her out.”

The idea makes something twist in her chest.

“Yeah,” she mutters, “maybe.”

But adapting gets harder at night.

The quiet moments, when she’s alone in your room, lying in your bed, wearing your oversized T-shirts—those are the ones that crack her armor. She’ll catch herself staring at the ceiling, running your hands over your arms, wondering how you’d react if you knew. If you felt what she was feeling now.

And there are moments—small ones—when she thinks maybe you do know.

Like when you catch her reflection in a window, watching you when you think no one’s looking. Or when your gaze lingers too long on her—your own body—during training.

It builds, slowly, over the days.

The tension. The unspoken.

And Tony doesn’t help.

One evening, after another failed attempt at reversing the swap, he corners you both in the kitchen with two glasses of wine.

“Alright,” he says, sliding the glasses across the counter. “We’re officially past the ‘this is hilarious’ stage. Now we’re in the ‘let’s get deep and vulnerable’ stage.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Tony—”

“Nope,” he cuts you off, raising a finger. “You’ve both been weirdly quiet about this, and I know—” he points between you—“that there’s more going on than just a body swap.”

Natasha, in your body, leans against the counter and sips her wine. “Like what?”

He grins. “Like, say, hidden feelings? Deep-seated emotional repression? Classic spy stuff.”

You almost spit out your drink. “Tony!”

He laughs. “I’m serious! You two have been dancing around each other for years. Now you’re literally in each other’s skin, and you’re telling me there’s nothing happening? Come on.”

You glare at him. “You’re reading into this way too much.”

But Natasha stays quiet.

Tony notices and smirks. “Or maybe I’m right.”

She finally speaks, her voice low. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But even you can hear the edge in her tone.

Tony backs off—barely—but his words linger.

That night, after everyone’s gone to bed, you find yourself wandering to the balcony, staring out at the stars. It’s quiet, peaceful, and for once, your thoughts settle.

Until you hear footsteps behind you.

Natasha.

In your body, wearing one of your hoodies, her hands stuffed into the pockets. She stands next to you, leaning on the railing.

“Can’t sleep?” she asks.

You shake your head. “Not really.”

The silence stretches, thick with unspoken words.

“Y/N,” she starts, her voice softer than usual, “do you ever wonder… if things could be different?”

You glance at her, surprised. “Different how?”

She hesitates, then sighs. “If we weren’t always on missions. If we didn’t have to… hide things.”

The question makes your heart race. Because yes. You’ve wondered. More times than you can count.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I do.”

The words hang between you, fragile and heavy.

And for the first time since the swap, you see it—the crack in her armor. The way she looks at you, like she’s been holding something back for years.

“Y/N,” she says again, her voice barely audible, “if we never get this fixed… I need you to know—”

But before she can finish, there’s a loud bang from the lab, followed by Bruce shouting, “I think I found something!”

You both jump, the tension snapping instantly.

But even as you rush toward the lab, Natasha’s unfinished words echo in your mind.

I need you to know…

And suddenly, the thought of going back to normal doesn’t feel so simple anymore.

The lab is a mess of wires, glowing monitors, and a haze of smoke from whatever Bruce just accidentally exploded. You and Natasha rush inside—her still in your body, you in hers—hearts pounding, the echo of her almost-confession still lingering between you.

Tony’s leaning against the wall, grinning like the proud inventor he is. Bruce, flustered but hopeful, gestures wildly at a console that’s beeping erratically.

“I did it,” Bruce says breathlessly. “I think I actually did it.”

“You’re sure?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, even as your hands—Natasha’s hands—tremble slightly.

Bruce adjusts his glasses. “Ninety-five percent sure. That’s pretty good, right?”

Tony claps him on the back. “Close enough. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? You swap with a dog? Or each other’s subconscious fears? That would be fun.”

You glare at him, but Natasha—still in your body—smirks. “If we end up in Tony’s body, I’m quitting.”

Tony gasps, clutching his chest. “You wound me, Romanoff. Truly.”

But you barely register the banter. Your mind is spinning with the weight of what Natasha almost said out on the balcony. The thought that she was going to confess something—and that you might never have known if Bruce hadn’t found a solution—sits heavy in your chest.

“Alright,” Bruce says, flipping a few switches. “This should reverse the swap. You’ll stand here—” he points to two glowing platforms, side by side, “—and when I activate the sequence, it’ll realign your consciousness with your original body.”

You glance at Natasha. She’s watching you, expression unreadable in your face, which makes it even harder to guess what she’s thinking.

You swallow hard. “Ready?”

She holds your gaze for a beat longer than necessary, then nods. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

You step onto the platforms, heart racing. There’s a low hum as the machine powers up, energy swirling around you both.

Tony’s voice cuts through the noise. “Alright, lovebirds. If you swap brains with a toaster or something, I call dibs on the patent.”

You roll your—Natasha’s—eyes, but then everything blurs.

There’s a blinding flash, like lightning in your veins, and suddenly, everything feels… right.

You stumble forward, catching yourself with your own hands. Your own hands.

You blink, the world spinning for a second, then look up to see Natasha standing across from you—in her own body—rubbing her temples.

“Nat?” you ask, your voice—your real voice—cracking slightly.

She lifts her head, and when her green eyes meet yours, there’s a beat of silence that stretches and expands, until the buzzing in your ears fades completely.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “I’m me again.”

The sheer relief makes you laugh, breathless and shaky, and Natasha’s lips twitch upward.

“We did it!” Bruce exclaims, but his voice is distant, muffled against the roaring in your head.

Because all you can focus on is Natasha.

Tony is still yammering, probably making jokes about you two now being able to “safely kiss without existential dread,” but his words blur as the lab becomes a peripheral hum.

Natasha steps closer.

The tension is palpable—electric.

She hesitates, then grabs your wrist gently, fingers curling around your skin like she’s grounding herself.

“Y/N,” she starts, her voice low, almost trembling. “We need to talk.”

Your heart skips. “Yeah. Okay.”

Without waiting, she pulls you out of the lab, past Bruce’s triumphant cheers and Tony’s relentless teasing. Neither of you say anything as you navigate through the compound, weaving past empty hallways until you find yourself standing outside your room.

She pauses at your door, biting her lip. “Can we—?”

You nod, opening it.

The room is exactly as you left it, but it feels different now—charged with an energy you can’t ignore.

Natasha walks in first, stopping in the middle of the room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her usual calm is gone—replaced by something raw, vulnerable.

You close the door behind you, heart pounding. “Natasha, what—”

She cuts you off. “I found your diary.”

The words hit you like a freight train.

Your face heats up instantly. “What?”

She swallows, her hands flexing at her sides. “When I was in your body. In your room. I—I wasn’t trying to snoop, I swear. But I couldn’t sleep, and I was looking around, and I saw it on your nightstand.”

You cover your face with your hands. “Oh my God.”

“Y/N,” she says quickly, stepping closer, “I didn’t mean to read it. But when I opened it… I saw what you wrote. About me.”

Your heart is now definitely trying to claw its way out of your chest.

“I—” You struggle to form words. “Natasha, I—”

She takes your hands, pulling them away from your face so you’re forced to meet her eyes. They’re soft, filled with something you can’t quite name—hope, fear, longing.

“You like me,” she says, her voice almost a whisper.

You nod, defeated. “Yeah. I do.”

The admission hangs heavy in the air, but instead of tension, there’s relief.

“I didn’t want to say anything,” you rush on, “because I thought—you know—I thought you only liked guys. And I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

Natasha lets out a shaky breath, then laughs—soft, incredulous. “You’re an idiot.”

You blink. “What?”

She smiles now, full and real. “I like you, too. I have for a long time.”

You stare at her, stunned. “You do?”

She nods, her hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I didn’t say anything because I thought you weren’t into girls. You’ve only ever talked about guys, and I didn’t want to cross a line.”

Your head is spinning. “So all this time…?”

“All this time,” she confirms.

There’s a beat of silence, then you both laugh—nervous, breathless, but filled with something else now.

Natasha’s eyes darken slightly as she steps even closer, her hand now cupping your cheek. “I didn’t want to tell you while I was still in your body,” she admits. “It didn’t feel right. I wanted this—” she leans in, her breath ghosting over your lips, “—to happen with us. The real us.”

Your breath catches. “So… what happens now?”

Her lips curl into a smirk. “I think this.”

And then she kisses you.

It’s soft at first—tentative, as if both of you are testing the waters. But then you melt into it, your hands tangling in her hair, her fingers digging into your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss deepens, and everything else—the awkwardness, the fear, the weeks of body-swapped chaos—fades away.

When you finally pull apart, breathless and grinning like idiots, Natasha leans her forehead against yours.

“That was worth waiting for,” she murmurs.

You laugh, your heart so full it hurts. “Definitely.”

But then there’s a loud knock at your door, followed by Tony’s unmistakable voice.

“Hey! I’m gonna assume the awkward confessions are done and the kissing has commenced?”

You and Natasha groan in unison, but neither of you can stop smiling.

Because for once, Tony’s actually right.

okay so, writing this was actually more confusing than I thought lol

[scarletcomalies]

may i request something??. nat having f!r in all fours, taking her w her strap. all soft, vulnerable. please? need her domestic possessive side (you can create a plot if you're up to, but that's pretty much it!!)

all of you, all of me

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word count: 1,608

Warnings: 18+ content, strap-on usage (R. Receiving), fluff.

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! Hope you enjoy <3

After a dangerous yet successful mission, Natasha Romanoff returned home to you, her loving partner.

Your thumbs gently ran over the once smooth skin of your beloved, now stained by a few scrapes and bruises to which she gave very little importance.

The woman before you was immune to any stimuli, except your caresses, or you as a whole, for that matter. It was obvious from the way she sighed and closed her eyes as soon as you had placed your hands on her cheeks.

After each life-risking mission, the only thing she needed was to feel your touch, and she wouldn't let some silly superficial wounds to deprive her of this delight.

"Oh, baby," you cooed, tracing a path with your hands from her cheeks to her ears, ending at her red hair. It was tangled, and you could even feel the powdery texture of dirt within. "Would you like me to run you a hot bath? Or would you prefer me to bring the first aid kit? Or would you rather rest?"

"Don't 'baby' me," Natasha grumbled, pulling you closer and wrapping her hands around your waist. "I'm not fragile, I don't need to rest," her tone indicating irritation, as if it was an insult that you simply offered to give her the care she deserved after such hard work. “I just want you, okay?” She added lowly.

You hummed disapprovingly, scratching her scalp in circles to soothe her usual high-defense demeanor. She rolled her eyes slightly, and threw her head back so your hands could continue to run through her scarlet locks.

"You're like a kitten," you commented with a chuckle. "A kitten that needs a bath, a massage, and a good night's sleep."

"I don't need any of that, you know I've had worse," she protested, stubbornness shining through. And it's true, Natasha's been through worse. Much, much worse. "What I need is to get you out of these clothes in the next five minutes...—" she stated, her lips moving to kiss your neck as her hands gripped your hips, pushing you tighter against her.

"Whatever makes my love feel better," you agreed, and it was your turn to tilt your head back to give her more access to that area, to let her slowly give in to the intoxicating need for more of you.

Natasha had given you a fair share of small heart attacks whenever she returned unexpectedly from missions at the most ungodly, unpredictable hours known to human kind. The first time, you had given her a bruise on her torso when you felt an extra weight on your shared bed, thinking someone had broken in.

It took some time for you to become accustomed to the fact that an additional weight no longer signified danger, but it rather indicated the return of your partner from another successful mission.

"I want to touch you," she pleaded, mewled against your ear.

"Well, nothing's stopping you," you whispered, your voice full of desire.

"Damn right!"

One of the things that characterized your relationship with the redhead was her ability to elicit a strong physical response from you, regardless of whether you had been sleeping, or had experienced a rough day, she just had to say the word, and that was sufficient to prompt a readiness on your part to comply.

Natasha's hands exerted pressure on your shoulders, guiding your back against the matress. She observed your body from an arm's distance, her eyes tracing the outline of your skin.

"You have no fucking idea how badly I've longed for this," she murmured.

Her lips captured yours for the first time in three weeks, her tongue exploring your mouth passionately. Said kiss was deep and hungry, chanelling all the longing that had built up during her absence. Her hands desperately traced the contours of your skin beneath your shirt, roaming up and down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

As the kiss intensified, Natasha nibbled at your bottom lip, pulling it gently between her teeth before releasing it with a soft pop, proceeding to begin a journey southward, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck. She paused at your pulse point, sucking the sensitive spot, and in consequence, eliciting a soft moan from you.

Her hands, meanwhile, had found their way to the hem of your shirt, slowly pushing it upwards. As more of your skin was exposed, the redhead's kisses followed, intending to cover every inch of your upper body with her touch.

She paused for a moment, looking up at you with a brief vulnerability.

"I've missed this," she whispered, her voice raspy with need. "And I've missed you."

With a gentle but quick maneuver, Natasha gently turned you onto your stomach, her hands caressing your back as she did so. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of your pants, slowly sliding them down your legs.

When the fabric pooled at your ankles, her hands returned to your hips. She leaned down, pressing a trail of kisses along your exposed skin, from the small of your back up to your shoulder blades.

"You're beautiful," she murmured against your skin, her breath warm and even comforting in comparison to the already present winter. "So perfect,” she added, as she lifted your hips to position you on all fours.

Natasha sat back on her heels, her eyes never daring to leave your ready body as she slowly began to undress. She started with her sweatshirt, pulling it off to reveal her toned abdomen and the simple black bra underneath. Her fingers then moved to the clasp behind, unhooking it with ease as the garment fell down.

Subsequently, she stood up, taking out of her pants, letting them pool at her feet before stepping out of them. Her underwear followed, sliding down her toned legs to join the rest of her discarded clothing on the floor.

Now fully naked, Natasha stood before you, her soft skin adorned with a few bruises and scratches. Perhaps it was wrong to admire the marks of such physical exertions such as her soul-draining missions, but there was something undeniably magnetic about the way she wore those bruises with pride.

She allowed you a moment to appreciate the sight of her, a small smirk playing on her lips at the obvious hunger you displayed shamelessly.

She then reached for a strap-on dildo from the bedside drawer, and fastened it around her hips, your all-time favorite black silicone perking up and adding to her already alluring form. And so, like a lioness eyeing her prey, she positioned herself behind you.

She started slowly, easing the toy into your hole with gentle, shallow thrusts. Your body welcomed the intrusion, already primed and prepared due to her earlier teasing.

Her hands then gripped your hips firmly as she began to thrust with more force, each movement driving the toy deeper. The room filled with the sound of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

"Mine, mine, mine," she remarked accompanied by each thrust, making you cry out in response.

They became deeper, more forceful, each movement causing waves of pleasure to drown you more and more, threatening to leave you breathless and defeated. The only sound present in the room was that rhythmic, familiar one of skin meeting skin.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" You cried out, followed by high-pitched gasps.

Your eyes were shut tight, your hands gripping the bedsheets with such force your knuckles turned white, anchoring you to reality.

Your back arched involuntarily, pushing you further onto Natasha, seeking more, always more. The clenching on your walls, and the tension on your core built to an almost unbearable level, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

Hers, hers, hers. Utterly and completely hers. With each thrust, each caress, each burning kiss, she once again branded you as her own.

“Nat! M’ gonna…” You weren't able to finish the sentence, for your body went rigid, as the pleasure of release overcame you.

Nevertheless, her hips continued to move, albeit slower and gentler as she helped you ride out your orgasm.

Her lips found the sensitive skin of your back, trailing soft kisses along your spine. This moment, this connection with you, was what she had craved during every lonely night on during her mission.

The feeling of your skin against hers, tte sound of your voice, your addictive scent that was uniquely you, it all reminded her of why she fought so hard to come back home in the first place.

As the aftershocks subsided, you collapsed onto your back, and Natasha took the opportunity to snuggle against you, the last bit of energy gone.

She had the presence of mind to be slightly embarrassed by how quickly and intensely you'd managed to affect her, excessively so, if she was being honest. But she was too drained, too satisfied to care much about it.

"Feeling better, baby?" You asked, your voice soft and filled with affection. Your fingers traced lazy patterns on her back, soothing and filled with tenderness.

Instead of a verbal response, Natasha managed a weak nod against your skin.

Her hands moved languidly, cupping your breasts in a delicate manner that contrasted with her earlier fervor. She let out a contented sigh as she settled her face more firmly between them, nuzzling against your soft skin. She could perfectly fall asleep right there and then, all spent and completely at peace.

Natasha pressed a soft kiss to your chest, right above your beating heart. It was a wordless expression of gratitude, of love, of coming home. No matter where her missions took her, no matter what dangers she faced, you would always be her sanctuary, her safe haven in a world of disaster.

[naturesapphic]

Hi! Would you be able to do a CEO!older!Natasha romanoff x Younger!fem!reader fic where reader is part of a startup advertising company while nat is the feared CEO of a well known advertising company and both met in a fancy wine bar only find out they’re business rivals in the advertising industry. Fluffy and some steamy smut please

Business rivals

CEO!older!natasha romanoff x young!fem!reader

Warnings: strict nat, fluff, smut

Word count: 1,002 :)

Walking into the bar, you were hit with the smell of alcohol and some type of fancy perfume. You walked up to the bar and sat down and ordered a strawberry martini. Feeling a presence behind you, you looked behind you to see a beautiful red head in a black suit and tie. “May I seat here?” She asks in a strict but kind voice. You gave her a smile and nodded your head. The red head smiled back and sat down next to you. “What are you having sweetheart?” The red head asked and you chuckled at the pet name she gave you. “A strawberry martini.” You replied and she shook her head. “Why don’t I buy you something stronger hm?” She suggested and you shook your head.

“No thank you. I need to stay as sober as I can. I have to go to work tomorrow.” You explained to her and she nodded in understanding. "I have work too but ! can just call out if I really need to." She smirked as she called over the bartender and ordered a bottle of vodka. Your eyes widen in surprise at her choice of alcohol and she just gave you a playful smirk and wink. The two of you talked for hours at the bar and learned so much about each other but what she was about to say now was something you weren’t expecting her to say. “I’m actually the CEO of stark advertising.” She confessed and you felt your whole face turn pale at her words. The redhead noticed how your whole demeanor change and she asked what was wrong.

“You work for stark advertising. You are Natalia Romanov, You are my rival!” You exclaimed with wide eyes and Natasha’s eyes widen themselves. “Shit…” she muttered under her breath while you sat there dumbfounded. “You are feared and an asshole..but getting to know you…the real you…I don’t see it…” you confessed to her and she looked into your eyes with a mix of mischievousness and softness in them. She got a little bit closer to you and carefully took one of your hands in hers, making you look up at her. “I really like you y/n. If you could just give me a chance…we can even go back to my place tonight if you want.” She suggested and you nodded, deciding to give her a chance.

~ at the house ~

You didn’t know how you were half naked on her bed with her on top of you but that’s what’s happening. Lips are connected and moving as you swiftly take off Natasha’s clothes. She was completely bare, her pale skin gleaming in the lamp light that was shining on the bedside table near the bed. Her short red hair that sits on her shoulders frames her face. You were in awe of her and she interrupted your admiration but leaning down and kissing your neck sloppily. You were a complete mess and she was barely doing anything to you. Natasha while kissing your neck and leaving hickies behind, was busy taking the rest of your clothes off, leaving you fully naked as well. Her bare body pressed up against your had you spiraling and not thinking straight.

Her gentle but yet firm touches and the smell of her hair, the softness of her body, the noises that come out of her mouth when you hit a certain spot, had both of you in a frenzy. Natasha was satisfied with your neck and started leaving kisses down to your breast. Your nipples harden by the coldness that filled the room and she took one of your pink buds between her lips, suckling softly. You bit your lip at the sensation and gently raised your hand to run your fingers through her red locks making her eyes snap up at you. She sucked on both of your nipples before kissing down to your stomach to your pelvis. She kisses all over your thighs until she got to your dripping cunt. Using her index and middle finger, she spread opened your lips, revealing your wetness and your throbbing hole.

Natasha smirked and licked her lips. “Is this all for me doll?” She said huskily that made your pussy clench. “Y-yes nat…all for you..” you whimper out, causing her to chuckle. She leaned down and attached her lips around your clit, sucking harshly. You let out a strangled breath and you shut your eyes tightly, feeling the pleasure all through your body, like a shock. She lapped at your pussy then went back to sucking on your clit, mixing the two together to get you to orgasm quickly. Which happened because not even a few minutes later you felt the tightness in your stomach and you let go. You came all in her mouth and Natasha greedily lapped it all up, not leaving a drop behind. You panted in the middle of the bed, recovering from the orgasm that nat just gave you.

“Fuck nat…” you breath out and Natasha let out a chuckle as she goes up and lays beside you, pulling your sweaty body to hers. “That was amazing.” You tell her as you roll over to face her, her arms still wrapped around your body. “I’m glad it was…” she said softly as she moves some of your sweaty strands of hair away from your face, causing your face to heat up. The two of you laid there admiring each other until y’all fell asleep in each others arms.

A/n: I haven’t been very good with endings but thank you @unlady-like-12-25-36 for the request! I hope you enjoyed it and that everyone else did too! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! Take care of yourselves. I love y’all :) special thing coming up this week ;)

[dontsearchformyaccount]

Y/n: I never realised lesbains were a thing as a kid

Nat:When we were 12 years old , you told Yelena you liked my blue hair and punched every girl that said something against it .

Y/n: Yeah they were afraid of me

Nat : They still are

[romanoffshouse]

Yelena: Would you slap your best friend for a thousand bucks?

Natasha: I would slap Y/N for free.

Y/N, tearing up: I’m your best friend??

[star-xxx1]

Sticky situations 18+

Ex!Natasha Romanoff x Crazy!Fem!Reader

Warnings: G!p Natasha, Dub-con, guns, blow jobs, overstim, begging, love bites.

A/n: Not proofread, sorry, but enjoy <3.

Natasha groaned, slowly coming to and regaining her senses. Her body stung all over, especially her neck, arms, and ankles. The sensation of wetness covered her neck; a weight sat on her lap. Her mind struggled to make sense of it all, to recall the seconds before she awoke from what felt like a deep, deep sleep. Only moments ago, she was on a mission; now she was so confused. She opened her eyes and looked around, taking in her surroundings cautiously. She looked down and saw you. Her ex-girlfriend.

Straddled on her lap, passionately marking up her neck like a tally in game, each mark was a mark of possession. Seeing you, her brain finally made the connection of the strange feeling on her neck. She groaned. She didn't even have to look know that you've made her whole neck a mess. Trying to pull away, you looked up at the sudden moment. "Natty, baby, Hi," you said sweetly, wiping the slobber around your mouth. "Mh." She grunted, You moved to kiss her pretty lips, but she pulled away.

"Y/n what the fuck!?" She said, trying to pull her arms up but all she was met with is tightness and resistance. Her arms and legs were tied. She looked up at you. "What are you trying to do?" The redhead barked at you. "Natty, please, I really need you. I'm needy and horny and I miss you." You whine to her.

"Not my problem." Natasha hissed. "But it is, I'm your sweet girl, after all? Like you said, I am and always will be." Your hand coming up to hold her soft cheek.

Natasha spat on your gentle face, her saliva landing right on your cheek and sidling down. Natasha watched as you wipped it up and lick it straight off your fingers and giggled. "Mhhh, spitting? wanna spit in my mouth next?"

"Oh fuck off y/n, get off me!" She said squirming unneath you. "Natty, baby, why are you resisting your girlfriend?" You pouted at her getting upset. "You're not my girlfriend anymore! For fuck sakes Y/n how times do I have tell, stop calling me! Stop texting me! Stop showing up everywhere -"

You covered her precious mouth, the barrel of a gun pressing firmly stomach. "Natasha, we're together," You took a deep breath, eyes holding strong emotions staring deep into her eyes, your grip tightening on her beautiful mouth, "We didn't break up!" You shouted. "Yes, we did!" Her protest coming out muffled. "You crazy bitch!"

"I will fucking shoot you!" You screamed getting, upset. "Straight in the stomach and you can bleed out alone and fuck off into hell." You yelled, the sound of you stressed voice echoing through the empty warehouse. She didn't flinch, but it shut her up. Natasha knew there was no way out, no matter what she did. You would find her, how the fuck can such a small girl find a highly skilled spy so easily? She tried so hard, but you were just everywhere, even in her dreams, haunting her, begging her for her to come back, sobbing screaming. You were obsessed, digustingly, and deep-seatedly in love. She was bound to you.

"Natasha." You said, looking into her pricing eyes. "Look, I'm sorry, baby, you just know how i get when it comes to you." You kissed her forehead. She didn't look impressed at all. You removed your hand from her mouth. You waited for an answer, expecting her to forgive you immediately like she usually did. But nothing, just a cold stare. Your lips pressed together, waiting.

"I think you've forgot how much I need you, how much I love you." Your hands trail down her suit. "Mabye, I have to remind you." Natasha's body stiffened as you started touching her your hands trailing down, but she couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine. She gritted her teeth, trying to resist your advances. "Don't you dare touch me."

You grabbed Natashas dick squeezing it from outside the suit. "Baby, don't you like when I do this?" You squeezed and rubbed her clothed cock. Natashas jaw tightened as you touched her cock, little groans escape her mouth at the sensation of your manicured hands squeezing and adding pressure, it gree harder and harder. "Y/n." Natasha said.

"Yes natty?" You chimed.

"Get off." You ingored her, slipping out a pocket knife out her weapon belt. You cut and sliced through her suit and boxers. Her body shivered with arousal as her thick, long cock sprang free from its confines, pre cum splattering on her stomach. It was so hard, so needy it needed to be dealt with immediately. "Mhh, baby, I miss you." You whispered, kissing her cheek. "Y/n." She whimpered, your soft hand wrapped around her cock, it was hot, throbbing.

She will admit, she did miss everything about you, she regretted leaving. She missed her old amazing sex life, not her current one, which was filled with so many different sex toys. She refused to let other people touch her in a sexual manner. It felt wrong. It felt like she was betraying you.

You got off her lap, settling in between her strong legs. You kissed her cock, rubbing your face all over her veiny shaft. "See im still your good girl."

Her breathing becomes heavy as she watches you on your knees. She bites her lip and starts to respond to your teasing. "Fuck you. don't do that."

You kissed her senstive pink tip. Her body shudders as she feels your lips against her cock. She gasps loudly, her back arching off the chair slightly. Despite her resistance, her hips start to move involuntarily, grinding against your face. "Don't. don't."

"Baby, just admit you want a blow job." You teased her. "I don't. I can't." Her words are punctuated by moans as she tries to resist the pleasure but fails miserably. Her hips continue to grind against your face, her cock leaking pre-cum onto your lips. You stared up at her, kitten licking her tip. "Beg, baby."

"Please, don't..." She whimpers out the word, her body shaking with desire. Despite herself, she can't help but push her hips forward slightly, offering more of her cock to your mouth. "I- I want you to suck me off... please."

"That's it, baby." You took her throbbing cock into her mouth. Your voice comes out muffled. "Come on, move, you always told me to work for it." You smirked. Natasha's eyes close as she feels your mouth close around her cock. She tries to pull away, but the sensation is too much for her to resist. She moans loudly, her hips bucking against your face as you tease her by not moving. "Baby,please, please, suck it." She begged. You didn't bugged. "I'm begging you!" Natasha cries out, her voice strained with desire. Her hips buck wildly against your face, seeking the release she craves. "Please need you to suck my cock."

"Please, fuck" Natasha body trembles with need as she continues to beg, her voice filled with desperation. Her cock throbs against your lips, leaking pre-cum onto your tongue. "I'll do anything. Just suck me off."

You shook head no. "Please!" Her Protest turns into a moan of frustration as she feels herself on the edge of orgasm without release. Her hips jerk forward, pressing her cock against your mouth, pleading for you to take her. "Please." After awhile wildly thrusting her thick cock into your warm mouth, her moans fill the room as her body shudders with ecstasy, her hips bucking violently against your face. Cum pours into your mouth, sweet and salty on your tongue. She pants and groans as she does a few extra hard thrusts. You look at your girlfriend, eyes screwing shut in pleasure forehead dripping with sweat. You started sucking her off. "O-oh..." Her eyes flutter open, surprised by the sudden change in sensation. Despite her initial resistance, she can't help but whimper as you start sucking on her sensitive, still hard cock, your pretty lips wrapping around her dick. "Holy shit." She bites her lip to keep from screaming out as she feels your hot mouth engulfing her entire massive cock. Her fingers dig into the chaie holding tight as she loses control to the pleasure you've unleashed. "Fuck."

Your head bopped up and down fast, gagging noise echoing as you deepthroated so her into your tight throat. Tears ran down your precious face, making her down wild, your mascara running down you rosy cheeks. Gripped her thighs, letting her fuck you face, her hips wildly thrusting, stomach tightening.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck..." Natasha's words become incoherent, babbling about how good it was, as she approaches her second orgasm. Natasha looked like she was going insane, body lifting of the chair, only to be met with restraints her loud whinpers and moans of pleasure, toes curling in her heavy combat boots, eyes rolled back, head thrown back, she panted like a dog in heat. It was sloppy and wet, cum and slavia dripping down your chin and all down her thighs.

Natasha's orgasm crashes over her, her body trembling as she releases all of her pent-up tension into your mouth. Her cock twitches and spurts, filling your throat with warm cum. You swallowed it like a good girl, not wasting a drop.

"Fuck, y/n." She whimpered. You let go off her soaked cock with loud pop. You came up and sat on her lap, getting the knife, and and cutting her restraints. You hugged her tightly. "See, I said you needed reminding."

"Yes, baby." She kissed your cheek, hugging you back.

"Natty." Your voice broke. "Mh, baby?" She mutter. "Please don't go again," she pulled away to look into your eyes, filled with vulnerability and weakness. Without her, you were lost, nothing, you need to be guided by her, only her.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry, so so so sorry." She voiced love. "I won't ever again, promise." You kissed her deeply. She could tasted herself on your tongue.

"You are my good girl, forever." she smirked. You smiled down at her.

"I love you natty, so much," you said.

"Love you way more." She kissed you again, wrapping her arms tight around you.

She did, and she was sorry, so very sorry for hurting you, she promise to make it up to you. She would do anything for you, anything.

Comments would be appreciated <3333

[flkwh0re]

Guilty Pleasure

Warnings: Mommy kink, Degrading, Praising, Use of the word "slut”, Strap-on usage (R receiving), Overstimulation (Kinda), Dumbification, After care

Word Count: 1,562

Authors Note: You have to imagine pre-death, endgame Natasha for this because that's who I thought of. (totally not my girlfriend who's totally not the one that made me wanna write this.)

Your sex life with Natasha was very vanilla, sickeningly vanilla. Hours of fantasies of woman had curated in your head over the span of your relationship with her. You knew if you brought it up with her she wouldn't judge you at all for wanting to spice things up, but still something had stopped you time and time again, when it came to talking to her about the matter.

Today you determined to talk with her, you made her favorite meal, set the table oh so beautifully, dressed up, and then it led you to where you sat now. All dolled up at the dining table waiting for your wife to return home from a days work as an Avenger.

As thoughts of the woman filled your mind, they were interrupted by the sound of keys fumbling with the lock. "Sweetheart, I'm home!" Natasha shouted as she stepped through the door, her tone going softer as she noticed your presence at the table. "Well hello, sweet girl. What's all this?" She giggled.

"I made your favorite food Natty." You said cheerfully, as you stood to greet your wife with a kiss. "Did you murder someone?" She asked half jokingly. "No I only wanted to treat you." You lied. "That's very sweet of you dear, thank you." She placed a soft kiss on your lips, before walking off to take her shoes off.

"Let me go change into some comfier clothes, then I'll be right back." She said, earning a small nod of your head from you. You nervously made your way back to the table, sitting down, and making sure everything was perfect in the process.

"I'm back!" Nat walked in, a tight black shirt hugging her body perfectly, along with her grey sweatpants, causing you to lick your lips discreetly.

"Baby, this food is wonderful, but I have to ask... is there some special occasion I'm missing?" Natasha asked with the raise of her brow. "No, I actually just wanted to discuss something with you." Natasha's expression seemed to have a little worry, which you quickly shut that down.

"I've been thinking a lot recently, about you, us. I-" You paused for a moment, trying to find the words as to not seem so desperate even though you very much were. "I've been wanting to spice up our sex life recently. I know that sounds really stupid, because I love what you give me and I don't want to seem like I'm not satisfied with you, I just want to try new things." You rambled on before Natasha stopped you.

"Baby, that's it's not stupid. I've been thinking the same. Though I didn't have plans to make such a big amazing meal to ask." She joked, making you laugh. "Why don't we try tonight? Tell me what you want baby." Blush crept on your cheeks as you thought back to all the things you've thought about.

"Well, I've really wanted to try out that strap we bought, and I don't want to be gentle all the time. I want you to be rougher with me, and... I think I want to call you mommy." A small groan came from Natasha at your confession. "I also want you to use harsher names for me, degrading words."

Without saying a word, Natasha tore you from your seat and brought you to your room. She pushed you back onto the bed, her lips colliding with yours. Your tongue tangled with her, and your hands found place in her hair. "Are you sure you want this? I want you to feel comfortable with me." You nod, "Please Nat, I need this."

She smirked, "Is that what you call me?" Your expression was one of confusion, until you got what she meant. "Mommy.." Natasha smiled, "What a smart girl you are."

She removed herself from the spot on top of you, rummaging around for the strap she'd kept stored for so long. "Take off your clothes while I get this on, sweetheart." The name Nat had used on you many of times, now felt completely different.

Once your clothes were off you waited patiently at the edge of the bed for Natasha to attach the harness to her hips. "There we go, can you lay back for mommy, baby?" You scooted your body back as you laid down for her.

Her soft hands gripped your thighs spreading them apart. "God you're so wet, all this just from telling me about your fantasies. Why don't you tell me more pretty girl?" You felt embarrassed to admit something that you'd found a guilty pleasure in doing, but to be honest the embarrassment made you all the more excited.

"I like thinking about being on top of you, struggling to keep getting myself off on you without your help. Or having you tell me to keep taking you." Natasha tugged her lip between her teeth, concealing the moan she almost let escape, because of your confession.

"My god, who knew my wife was such a slut." She said, watching closely for your reaction to the word. Your face was a mix of shock and enjoyment, the whimper that came from you told her all she needed to know.

"Let mommy fuck this pretty, wet pussy." Her lips connected with yours, as the tip of the toy collided with your pussy. She slowly slipped it in you, as to not hurt you. Though it didn't really matter, you'd not be spared from her upcoming assault.

Small whimpers came from you as she stretched you out. "Mommy, it hurts." Your hands hastily gripped onto her shoulders, "Shh take it like a good girl, can you do that for mommy?" You nod.

Natasha's pace quickly fastened, her hips snapping against yours. You weren't sure how long you'd be able to hold your orgasm due to the pleasure you were feeling. "M-mommy, it feels s'good." Natasha smiled at your messy pronunciation of such simple words. "Keep that pretty little mouth shut, let me do all the work. Don't you think a thought unless it's about me."

After a while of your current acts, Natasha knew you were close. "Don't cum yet, hold it." You whined, "Mm I can't, feels s'good." Suddenly you were flipped to where you sat upon Natasha's lap, her hands resting on your hips.

"If you're gonna act like a needy little slut, you're gonna have to earn to cum like one." Your puzzled, disappointed eyes almost made Nat give in. "Cmon get to work."

Your weak legs tried their best to lift your body, trying your hardest to get your high. Natasha's lips came in contact with your neck, licking and sucking tender spots. leaving small purple blemishes on your skin.

Her tongue grazed your hardened nipples softly, before sucking harshly on the bud. Your nails dug into her shoulders, and your head lolled next to hers. Your lips parted next to her, small whimpers and gasp filled her ears.

"Cmon baby you can do better than this, can't you? Or are you such a dumbed down whore that you need mommy to take control, hm?" Her words honestly made you even more dumb, you couldn't even respond but just moan. "That's not an answer, if you want something you have to use your words baby."

After a bit, you were able to gather the strength to get more than just whimpers out. "Pl-please, mommy. I need you, can't cum without mommy." She smiled, "What a good girl you are! Now relax baby, let mommy take over." Her thrust up into you filled a much needed gap of pleasure, and your struggled finally paid off.

It didn't take much effort to finally get you to cum, and when you did it was like no orgasm before. You felt as if you were floating on clouds, and that you could reach out and grab the stars that blurred your vision.

Before you knew it, you were waking up to Natasha running a hot bath for you. "Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?" She asked as she pushed your ruffled, sweaty hair off your forehead. "'M tired." You said honestly.

"Well let me get you all cleaned up, then we'll get you into bed." She said as she gently scooped you up and carried you to the warm bath, which consisted of Natasha washing your hair for you which you loved, her gently cleaning your sweat slicked body with a soft cloth and your favorite soap.

She helped hold you steady as she got you out of the tub, and got you fresh new pajamas on. "There we go sweetheart, now let's get you into bed."

She laid down, then pulled you into her arms. Wrapping them gently around your tired body, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. Your head shifted down to play upon her chest, the sound of her heart beat relaxing you even more.

"You did so good for me sweet girl." She whispered softly to you. "Thank you, mommy." She smiled at you still using the titled for her, which she was sure you weren't even aware you had used it, and you weren't.

Not before long, you had dozed off. Natasha gently rubbed your back as she watched, whatever she had playing on the tv. The acts of earlier replaying through her mind.

MASTERLIST

[urmomisunderme2]

Guilty as sin

Warning: daddy kink, wet dreams, watching (i don’t remember what it’s called😭) and I don’t remember but smut

When your back for home for summer you never know what could happen, especially with your dads best friend Natasha…

——-

"Nat fuck nat please-oh god please" you moan as Natasha rubs your clit "you like that detka hm?" You buck your hips toward her hand but she moves away"no natty no please-" you whine "patience little girl... you gonna love this even more" you watch her standing at the end of the bed taking of her belt and jeans and pulling down her boxers just enough for her cock to stand proud, she moves back onto be and lines up to your core and just when she's about to split you open... *buzz buzz buzz* your alarm goes off, yet another night you've had a wet dream about your daddy's best friend.

Being home for summer was amazing, it was nice to see your dad again although that feeling can get old fast sometimes, this time faster then anytime before when you had only be home for about 5 minutes when your dad asked if you’d been getting any at uni, what the fuck, that was a crazy thing to ask but that’s what Tony stark was like as a dad and honestly it wouldn’t be as awkward as it was if you didn’t have a crush on his best friend who you’d be having wet dreams about for months.

You get out of bed put on your silk robe that Natasha had given to you for your 19th birthday a few months ago, you walk out your room and down to the kitchen to get a glass of orange juice. As you walk through the hallway and get closer to the kitchen you can hear your father talking with someone. You enter the kitchen to see the woman featuring in all your pantie ruining dreams, Natasha Romanoff looking as gorgeous as ever even in her black t shirt and grey sweatpants making parts of her really stand out, this was not what you needed after the dream you just had.

Natasha smiles as she see you wake in starting to walk over to you from where she was standing leaning against the counter.

“Such a sleepy girl” she says pulling you into a hug, something you hadn’t given her in months since your crush had amplified to this crazy level of neediness “finally a hug from my girl” she said pulling you closer but all you can focus on now is how you can feel her shaft against your front. You had known Natasha your whole life and as soon as you started to have crushes she was your first and longest, you’d had a crush on her now since you where twelve obviously the feelings you felt had changed a bit over time with a sexual need too. 

“Hi” you say as she pulls away “hey dad” you greet your dad and walk over to the fridge to get some orange juice “how was your sleep?” Your dad asked, he could tell something was up, you blush at his question as you fill your glass and turn back around to face them, leaning back against the counter opposite them “Emm…okay I guess” your face was only blushing more “you don’t seem very sure” Natasha looked at you with an unreadable expression “just like dreams and stuff you know” “dreams not nightmares, ohhhh someone having sex dreams” Tony teases, you look over at him with a death glare can’t he just be a normal dad for once “dad really?” You look over at Natasha embarrassed “hey don’t look at me to save you I’m just as interested” Natasha smirks.

“I’m not even- ugh imma shower” you leave the room before you somehow reveal who it’s about. You go back to your room and into the bathroom as you had an ensuite bathroom, you drop the robe and turn the shower on, after a minute you walk into the rainfall shower.

You can’t help yourself as your had slides down to clit rubbing in tight circles as you think of Natasha, imagining her doing this to you, kissing down your neck, telling you what she wants to do to you “Natasha… fuck…” you moan as you cum glad that the house you live in is absolutely giant.

You step out of the shower and wrap yourself in a towel, walking into your bedroom jumping a little when you see Natasha standing in your room with a smirk on her face “Natasha what are you..” you stop before you finish just now realising she may have heard you. “I came to leave you some pastries for after your shower but I just couldn’t help but stay when I heard those lovely noises you where making detka”

You freeze as Natasha walks over to you pulling you in and kissing you harshly, her hands falling to your ass. You both pull away for breath.

“On the bed princess” you walk backwards until you fall onto the bed and spread your legs open, your towel had fallen off at some point as you only notice. Natasha stands at the end of the bed “touch your clit detka” she commands and you do, moaning a little as your body is still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Natasha watches over you with her hand falling into her pants starting to touch herself too.

“If you’re a good girl and tell me want you want you can have more princess” you speed up wanting even more but it’s not her, it’s not enough without her touching you “I want you natty please, rip me open please, do anything to make I don’t care just fuck me!” You scream and before you know if Natasha is on top of you and pushing herself in your cunt “call me daddy detka” you can’t help but hold back your moan, Natasha was so big, you’d never had anything this big in you before “yes daddy”

“Good girl” Natasha says kissing and nibbling at your neck “faster daddy please daddy I need to…” Natasha listens to you speeding up and bringing one of her hands down to rub your clit “cum for daddy princess…daddy’s gonna cum in you…fill you up with my baby’s” a few seconds later you cum with a scream.

Natasha keeps railing into your sensitive core “daddy I-“ you whine but are interrupted by Natasha “fuck detka fuck daddy’s gonna cum” and she does, filling you full with her cum.

She fall down next to you giving you a kiss on the cheek “I’m glad I heard you in the shower, god I wanted you so bad and hopefully now you’ll be filled with my baby’s all plump and pregnant”

——

Tag list: @idkwhatever580