#natasha request

[wandaslittlebird]

Pendulum

Wanda x Reader, WandaNat x Reader

After a session with Wanda the prior evening, you wake up alone in your bed and find you’re a bit more reliant on her than you’d like to be.

CW: Sub drop, (kinda) panic attack, mood swings, guilt, Mommy Kink, mentions of spanking, established WandaNat (no cheating), pills (Tylenol and Xanax), Wanda generally being a protective and worried mama

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: I may know hardly anything about dom drop, but I’m ✨well versed✨ in sub drop. I honestly think this one is adorable and I hope you all enjoy.

A/N: I wasn’t doing this consciously, but reading this back I realize I kinda did a reverse YAIL, so, if you haven’t already, go check out that series by @wandasaura

Fic based on this request

You woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air before your head even left the pillow. It was hard to find anything to ground you in your dark bedroom, but with the help of your stuffed bear, Francis, and some breathing exercises you’d been working on in therapy, you were able to calm down at least enough to breathe. Still, you found yourself dizzy, nauseous, in pain, and, perhaps most excruciatingly, alone.

Wanda. Where was Wanda? Where was your mommy? You needed mommy.

“Mommy?” You cried quietly into the empty room. But she wasn’t there. Of course she wasn’t there. She was at home, tucked peacefully into bed with Natasha, her wife. And you were here, in your cold, empty apartment, all alone.

You turned to look at the clock on your bedside table. 1:30 am. It was far too late to call her. She had to get up for work in a couple hours. You had to get up for class in a couple hours.

But god, you needed her. You needed just to hear her voice. Everything felt so empty without her here. Your brain felt like it was underwater. You couldn’t think. It felt like your mind was strapped to a pendulum, swinging back and forth between extremes. It’s like half of your mind was begging for Wanda while the other half scolded you for your over-reliance. You wanted her, but you didn’t want to want her. It was hyper-dependence clashing with hyper-independence in an internal battle that left you dazed and confused.

Just call her, you thought. She told you to call her if this ever happened.

You’d been her submissive for months, and, though you’d never actually experienced sub drop with her, the two of you had discussed it extensively. “You can call me at any time,” she’d said. “Even if it's been days. I’m here for you in any way you need me.”

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, pulling up her contact and hovering over the call button. But before you could press it, the pendulum swung back. You hurled the phone into your beanbag on the other side of the room.

What are you thinking? You can’t call her. She’s not your fucking girlfriend. You’re so reliant on her and she doesn’t even care about you. Leave her alone. This is your mess. Handle it.

You sighed, dragging your aching body off of your mattress. Everything hurt. The wounds she’d so loving inflicted the night before ached even more than they had when they were fresh. You wanted, needed, to feel her soft hands massaging soothing balm into your skin like they had only hours prior. But no.

Wanda. Wasn’t. Here.

It was just you and you alone. You needed to take care of this. You needed to pull yourself together and handle this on your own. You felt like you might be sick. The swinging of this pendulum was nauseating. You dragged yourself to the bathroom, pulling two Tylenol and a Xanax from the medicine cabinet. You sat on the toilet, tucking your head between your knees.

You didn’t understand what was happening. Or rather, you didn’t understand why it was happening. Wanda had done everything perfectly, just like she always did. She’d insisted you stay with her until you were out of subspace and your mind was clear again. She’d given you all the cuddles and love and reassurance you could possibly want. She’d even rubbed that soothing lotion on your sore ass despite the fit you’d pitched about it. This shouldn’t be happening. She’d done everything she was supposed to do. You were the problem.

You moved from the bathroom to your living room, pacing anxious circles until you worried the neighbors would complain. Then you decided on a walk.

A little walk to clear your head. That should help. No need to bother Wanda. You could take care of this by yourself.

—————

A little over two blocks proved you could not, in fact, take care of this by yourself. You found yourself collapsed on a bench outside your favorite coffee shop, her contact pulled up on your phone, sobbing as your thumb hovered over the call button.

You clicked it, anxiously awaiting an answer through the dial tone. Every second without an answer was a battle not to hit the red button, and smash your phone on the ground so you wouldn’t be tempted to try this again.

“Hello?” You heard, not Wanda, but Natasha’s sleep addled voice.

You silently cursed, debating hanging up the phone and forgetting the whole endeavor. You had very limited experience in dealing with Natasha. Where Wanda was warm and inviting, Natasha was cold and intimidating. Wanda had told you once that Natasha had a soft spot for you, but you remained unconvinced any of Natasha’s spots were “soft”.

Wanda had explained to you that Natasha’s had submissives of her own, but she tended to prefer brats, submissives who needed a harsher hand. “It’s not that she doesn’t like you,” Wanda had explained, “she’s just not used to sweet little girls like you.”

Still, the woman terrified you. And she definitely was NOT the one you wanted to be speaking to right now. But you took a deep breath, and answered her. “H-hello, Miss Natasha. C-can I speak to Wanda?” You stammered. You couldn’t keep the tears and desperation out of your voice when you added a “…please.”

“Y-yeah, sure honey. Just a second let me get her up,” she responded tiredly.

Your heart shattered at the thought of Natasha rousing a peaceful Wanda from her sleep just because you couldn’t get yourself together. But all such thoughts faded when you heard her voice through the phone. “Angel? Is that you? Is everything okay? Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

“Mommy…” you said tearfully. “I’m okay. I promise I’m okay, I just… I don’t know what’s happening. I mean I’m dropping, I know, but… I don’t know. I just needed so badly to hear you and talk to you. I’m sorry for waking you up. I’m so sorry. I know you said….” You were rambling breathlessly, but Wanda soon cut you off.

“Breathe for me, little love,” she instructed softly. “Three deep breaths. In and out. Can you do that for me, angel?”

You nodded despite knowing she couldn’t see you over the phone. You took three audible breaths, calming yourself down.

“Good girl,” she praised. “Now, can you tell me what’s happening?”

“I… I… Sub drop, I think,” you explained. “But like, really bad.”

“Aww,” she cooed. “I’m so sorry, my little love. Can you explain to me what you're feeling? Are you in pain? Do you need company?”

“I just… I don’t know why this is happening to me,” you cried. “Everything hurts so bad. My head feels like it’s spinning. And… And my body is so sore. It’s never happened like this with you before. You did everything so perfectly. I just don’t understand why I’m being like this.”

“Sub drop can happen no matter what, honey. And I’m so sorry it’s happening to you, sweetheart. Do you need to come back over?” She asked.

You pondered her question, the pendulum inside of you swinging violently. You felt like you were being torn in half between admitting you needed her help, and feeling defeated and weak that you couldn’t handle it on your own. But eventually you remembered it didn’t really matter. You made your choice when you took the Xanax. You weren’t going anywhere now. “I-I took some medicine. I can’t drive. I’m sorry,” you admitted.

“What medicine?” She asked, panicked. “Did you take too much? Are you okay?”

“It was just a Xanax. Just one. Just like I take for school sometimes,” you reassured.

You heard her breathe a sigh of relief on the other end of the line. “Okay, sweetheart. I’m sorry I panicked. You know I just worry sometimes. I tell you what, Nat and I are going to get you an Uber, and then you can spend the rest of the night here, okay?”

“Wanda, you don’t have to-“ You didn’t use her real name very often given the exclusively sexual nature of your relationship, but you needed her to know she wasn’t responsible for being your dominant right now. She was Wanda, and you were you: two grown adults. She didn’t have any obligation to take care of you right now, in the middle of the night on a Wednesday.

“But I want to, darling,” she interrupted. “Is that okay?”

“Y-yeah, but I’m not at the house right now.”

You heard her breath catch. “Where are you, honey? You promise me you’re safe?”

“I-I’m just at the coffee shop,” you explained. “I wanted to take a walk, b-but I didn’t make it very far.”

Wanda sighed. She’d have to have a little talk with you about walking all by yourself in the middle of the night. But not right now. Right now she just needed you in her arms as quickly as she could have you. “Alright, love. You’ve got a car on its way. Just stay on the phone with me until it gets there, okay?”

“O-okay.”

—————

The car was there within five minutes of Wanda’s order. Most of that time was just filled with tears and mumbled apologies on your end, and reassurance and encouragement on hers.

She waited anxiously by the front door for you to arrive, peeking out of the blinds with every set of headlights that passed by. She clutched her robe tight against her chest. If you were there, you would’ve teased her about her anxious habit. You always said she was “practically clutching her pearls.”

When you finally pulled into the driveway, she was standing in the front door frame before you could even get out of the car.

“Mommy!” You ran up to her, nearly tripping on the front porch steps on your way in. You were even more hysterical now that you were seeing her in person. Something about the sight of her made you fall apart. You felt safe now. You were going to fall, and she was going to catch you, and everything was going to be okay.

“Careful, love,” she chided, taking you into her arms. “Mommy’s got you. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m gonna take care of you and I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you.”

It sounded more like she was reassuring herself than anything, but her words still washed over you like a wave of relief. “I missed you, mommy.”

“I know you did, angel,” she said, kissing you on the temple. “Mommy missed you, too.”

She wrapped her arms just under your ass, still sore and super sensitive from your activities earlier that night. She picked you up, wrapping your legs around your waist. You squeaked in a mixture of surprise and pain.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know you’re sore. I’ll be gentle,” she cooed. “Let’s get you to bed. Tasha will be waiting for us.”

You just cried, burying your face into Wanda’s neck as she carried you up the stairs. You couldn’t talk anymore. You were so completely exhausted, mentally and physically. But it was okay. You had your mommy and everything was going to be okay. The bedroom door was already open, and, as Wanda had expected, Natasha was sat up against the headboard.

“Is that a little angel I see there?” You heard Natasha ask. Wanda sat you on her lap at the end of the bed, bending down to take off your shoes.

You peaked your eyes out from Wanda’s neck before perching your chin on her shoulder. “Hi Miss Natasha,” you sniffled. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“That’s alright, little angel,” she assured, sliding closer to you and Wanda on the bed. She looked so much kinder than usual, soft sleepy eyes smiling at you through your tears. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

You nodded, still teary eyed and snotty on Wanda’s lap while she unlaced your shoes.

Natasha cupped your cheek, wiping away stray tears. “It must’ve been so scary to start dropping without your mommy there, huh?” Her touch was unexpectedly gentle, as were her words. Maybe Wanda was right, maybe she really did have a soft spot for you.

You nodded, trying to speak but only managing to whimper a “mhm.” You blushed a little with embarrassment. Wanda must’ve told her all about your situation. You wondered momentarily if she thought your behavior was overblown or ridiculous, but if she did, her gentle face showed no indication.

“But now you’ve got your mommy and everything’s gonna be okay, right?”

You nodded again. “I-I hope you don’t mind if I steal your wife for a little bit for-for some extra snuggles.”

“Not at all little angel.” Natasha smiled softly. She could see your anxious embarrassment, and decided, despite her inexperience with soft subs, she’d make an attempt to soothe you. She knew she wasn't expected to, but she found herself desperate to make you feel better, even if it was only a little bit. “Your mommy could hardly stop bragging about you tonight, you know?”

“Re-really?” You asked. Natasha could see the tiniest little twinkle in your teary eyes.

“Really,” she confirmed. “She told me she was so proud of her sweet girl for calling her, because that must’ve been so scary for her, to call in the middle of the night. She knows you don’t like to wake people up, and asking for help when you need it is so so hard. And I said ‘wow, it sounds like you have the bravest little angel in the whole world. I think she deserves some extra special snuggles from mommy tonight, for being so brave.’”

“Y-you really think so?” you asked bashfully, hiding back in Wanda’s neck.

“I really do,” she confirmed. “And you know your mommy keeps her phone on silent in the nighttime. But she cares about you so much she has a special setting so it rings just for you.”

You smiled. Your heart fluttered, not only at the idea Wanda had her phone on for you, but also at the thought that Natasha must’ve known it was you before she answered. “I-I thought you might be mad at me,” you confessed. “Cause you and-and mommy were probably all snuggled up in bed and I came in and messed it all up!”

Natasha stroked your cheek as she shook her head. “No angel. Never. You could never mess up one of our snuggles by asking to be a part of it. We’re both so proud of you, for calling and getting help.”

“P-promise?” You asked.

Natasha held out her pinky, which you wrapped with your own. “Promise.” She confirmed.

Wanda finally got your shoes off and placed them on the floor next to the bed. “Okay little love,” she announced, easing your pajama pants down around your knees. “I’m gonna get some of the nice lotion again, okay?” She’d already put a little on earlier, but she figured it would probably do quite a bit to soothe your current pains, both physically and emotionally.

You wrapped yourself around her, refusing to let her move. You didn’t need silly lotion, you needed her. You whined at the prospect of having to let go.

Natasha giggled and sat down next to Wanda. “Do you want me to do your lotion while you hang onto mommy?”

You nodded, sending her into the next room. Wanda kissed your temple. “I told you she likes you.”

“I’m so spoiled,” you mumbled blissfully into her neck.

“You deserve it, angel,” she said.

Natasha returned to the room with the bottle of lotion. She approached you and rubbed your back gently. “Alright little angel, is it okay if I touch your bottom, or do you want mommy to do that part?”

You pondered for a moment. On one hand, having Wanda do it would mean getting to lay over her lap again. But, you found yourself inexplicably excited by the thought of Natasha putting your lotion on. Maybe, if you played your cards right, you could have the best of both worlds.

“You can do it, Miss Natasha,” you said while flipping yourself over to lay over Wanda’s lap.

“Oh,” Wanda squeaked in pleasant surprise. From this position she could’ve just as easily applied the lotion. She was pleased to know that you wanted Natasha to do it, though. She pulled up your shirt and rubbed your back.

“Okay, it’s gonna be a little cold,” Natasha advised, giggling a little bit when you jumped at the cool liquid anyway. Her hands were so gentle as she soothed your raw skin. You wondered if she was this gentle with her subs as well. “All done. Do you want a kiss?”

You nodded, feeling so completely at ease with the two women taking care of you. Natasha placed a gentle kiss to each of your red ass cheeks.

“Does Tasha’s kisses make it feel all better?” Wanda asked.

You nodded into Wanda’s thigh.

“I’m glad I could help,” Natasha giggled, placing the lotion on Wanda’s nightstand so it’d be ready for you again in the morning. She crawled back into bed, making herself comfortable on her side.

Wanda placed you face down on her own side of the bed, trying not to disturb you too much as she slid her legs out from under your body. She crawled over you, placing herself in the middle between you and Natasha, pulling you tight into her side.

You laid your head on her chest, catching a glimpse of Natasha’s pretty smile in the low lighting. She really didn’t look like she minded you being here at all. In fact, she looked happy.

In your fuzzy haze, you waved at her from across the bed.

Wanda and Natasha both giggled, hearts swelling at the innocence of the gesture. You just wanted Natasha to feel included, and what better way to acknowledge her presence than with a kind wave hello.

Natasha waved back. “Hi, little angel,” she said, reaching over Wanda to pinch your cheek.

You looked up at Wanda, your big eyes gently pleading. “Mommy, do you think I could sleep on your other side so I can be closer to Miss Natasha?”

Wanda smiled giddily. She never expected such a request from you, but she was more than happy to oblige. She was overjoyed to see your relationship with Natasha growing. “Of course, sweet girl,” she said, effortlessly flipping you over to her other side.

“You know, you don’t have to call her Miss Natasha,” Wanda said. You’d always called her that since you’d first met her without any prompting to do so. She certainly didn’t mind, but Wanda had always secretly hoped you’d get past the formality. There was nothing she wanted more than for her two favorite people to love each other as much as she loved them. “I bet she’d like it if you called her daddy. Only if you wanted to.”

You faced Natasha, who looked surprised at the proposal, but nodded.

“I thought only your subs were allowed to call you that?” You said, equally shocked by Wanda’s words.

“Hmm…” she pretended to ponder the question. “For my little angel I think I can make an exception.”

You smiled. “In that case,” you pressed a small kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight daddy.” You turned back to Wanda, placing a kiss on her jaw as you snuggled back into her chest. “Goodnight mommy. I love you.”

“Sweet dreams, little angel,” Natasha said, wrapping herself up behind you.

“Get some rest, little love,” Wanda said, kissing your head.

And finally, the pendulum stopped swinging.

Taglist (ha I remembered this time): @boredandneedsfanfic @marvelwomenarehot0

[romugh]

SUDDENLY, THE STAR I STUDIED WAS YOU- NR

pairing- prof!natasha romanoff x gp!student!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, legal age gap (23, 29), oral (n & r rcv), handie (r rcv), blowie (r rcv), slight lactation kink (if you squint), slight exhibitionism (?), slight praise kink, unprotected sex, soft & rough emotional sex, i think that's all?

wc- 12k??? smut (6k worldbuilding - angsty (?), 6k smut)

a/n- requested! this is my first request ever, so sorry if it's a bit weird, i tried to find a balance between everything while still following the request. have fun reading :p quite a few gip requests, but non-gip fics coming out soon, too! also, apologies for my nerdy physics side coming out, i promise not all metaphors will always be stars and the universe in my upcoming fics!

request- natasha and the reader meet at a bar, where an instant connection is formed. the next day, the reader realizes she’s late for class, only to find that natasha is a part-time professor filling in for the regular instructor on maternity leave. despite their complicated dynamic, feelings begin to develop, neither of them able to forget or ignore the connection that seems to have been written in the stars.

synopsis- what began as a fleeting connection at a bar turns into something deeper when you, a dedicated astrophysics student, find yourself caught between the stars you study and the one standing before you—your brilliant redheaded physics professor.

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel - comment or dm if you want to be added x

The bar hummed with the usual Sunday night energy—laughter, clinking glasses, and music filling the air. You sat with your friends, playing the role of the designated sober one, one you were used to taking on during nights like these. The thought of Monday morning classes didn’t bother you much; you always managed to balance things out. Your attention wandered, eyes scanning the room as you sipped on your soda.

Across the room, Natasha Romanoff sat at the bar counter, her attention drifting as she absently traced the rim of her half-empty vodka glass. Her fingers, adorned with sleek silver rings, caught the changing light, glinting like electrons shifting between energy levels—an occasional shimmer with each delicate movement. Her gaze remained fixed on the woman who had entered the bar a few minutes prior, the small group of friends around her seeming to create a cosy bubble. Natasha had felt it the instant you walked in—an inexplicable pull that she couldn’t quite ignore.

Your eyes locked for the first time, and something clicked, like a cosmic event neither of you fully understood. The noise of the bar seemed to dull for a second. Her green eyes traced your face, your presence in the crowd creating a strange gravity she couldn’t quite explain, tugging her focus toward you as if you were the singularity at the centre of a black hole.

For you, it was no different. The world blurred at the edges, leaving only her. You couldn’t shake the sensation, that nagging curiosity about why you felt so drawn to this woman. The pull was strong, but there was no rational reason for it. You didn’t even know her, yet your gaze found hers again and again, as if pulled into her orbit.

Between the bustle of people, the two of you kept making fleeting eye contact. Each time, it lingered just a little longer, an electric charge building with every glance. It was subtle, like the gravitational waves rippling through space, just beneath the surface—something powerful yet invisible, drawing the two of you together.

Just when you felt like the next moment would finally break the tension, someone bumped into you, breaking your line of sight. You shifted, trying to find the woman again through the crowd, but she was obscured as someone passed in front of her, momentarily blocking her view of you. The connection, broken for a brief second, left both of you with an unexplainable ache, a yearning for something you didn’t quite understand.

The noise of the bar faded into the background, but the weight of that momentary connection lingered in the air between you and Natasha, tugging at something deep inside, an invisible force drawing you together. Even though the crowd shifted and swayed, people passing, glasses clinking, laughter echoing in the air, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being pulled toward her.

Your friends were immersed in the night’s fun, pulling you in with their conversations, but your thoughts kept drifting back to her. Across the room, Natasha sat at the bar, staring into her glass, though her mind wasn’t on the drink. She felt it too—the strange, almost gravitational pull that tugged at her every time her eyes found you. She couldn't help but scan the crowd, hoping for another glimpse.

But as the minutes ticked by, it became harder to focus on anything else. Both of you were caught in a loop, searching, finding, and then losing sight of one another in a pattern that felt more like orbiting than anything else. Natasha’s heart thumped in her chest, harder than she wanted to admit. She couldn’t place why her breath hitched every time she thought she saw you again, why it felt like the space between you was shrinking, collapsing like the event horizon of a black hole.

Finally, around 11, your friends started gathering their things, calling it a night. You followed them outside, laughter and banter still buzzing around you, but your mind wasn’t there. While you stood outside waiting for the Uber, Natasha remained inside, scanning the dancefloor for your face. Her heart seemed to beat louder, faster, like a photon travelling through space, seeking light but finding none. The momentary loss, the lack of your presence in the crowded room, tugged at her.

Feeling the need for fresh air, Natasha slid off her barstool, the cool night air rushing over her as she stepped outside. As soon as her foot hit the pavement, her mood lifted again—a soft, inexplicable flutter in her chest—because there you were.

You turned around just as she stepped outside. The world felt smaller, the space between you thinner. For a split second, everything else disappeared—the traffic noise, the hum of your friends talking, the bar chatter behind her. It was just you, standing there under the night sky, your eyes finding hers as if by some unspoken command.

And there it was again, that tension, pulling taut between you two like a force field. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you nodded toward the bar. “Hey, want a drink?”

Natasha blinked, caught off guard, but she didn’t let it show. The warmth of your smile did something to her, something unexpected and unfamiliar. For a moment, her cheeks heated, and she cursed herself for reacting this way. But when she returned your smile, it was genuine, and her eyes twinkled like the stars above your heads, a silent reflection of the celestial wonder she often looked toward for answers.

“Sure,” she replied, her voice smooth, though inside she felt like she was standing too close to the sun, her resolve melting, but she wasn’t about to let it show.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

As the night wore on, the bar became a backdrop to a deeper connection that unfolded between you and Natasha. Time seemed to stretch and compress, bending to the rhythm of your conversation. Each word exchanged felt like a discovery, peeling back layers and revealing more of the universe within both of you.

For you, Natasha’s presence was mesmerising. Her gaze, intense and thoughtful, drew you in like the gravitational pull of a distant star. Her words were a melody of intellect and curiosity, and as she spoke, it was as if she was unravelling the mysteries of the universe right before your eyes. Her laughter, when it came, was like the twinkling of stars, bright and infectious, adding to the enchantment of the evening.

As the conversation deepened, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. The music played on, but it was a mere hum compared to the symphony of thoughts and emotions you shared. The chemistry between you was palpable, though it remained unspoken, hanging like a silent promise between your exchanged smiles and knowing looks.

The minutes turned into hours, and by the time the clock edged closer to 1 a.m., the atmosphere in the bar had shifted. The music, once a mere background noise, began to pulse with a vibrant energy. The crowd's energy surged, and the dancefloor started to beckon with an irresistible pull.

You felt it too—the undeniable urge to move, to lose yourself in the rhythm, to let the music carry you. You looked at Natasha, who was still absorbed in your conversation, her eyes reflecting the same sense of anticipation.

With a smile that spoke of unspoken desires, you stood up, extending your hand toward her. “Come on,” you said, your voice inviting. “Let’s dance.”

Natasha looked up, her eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there was a spark—a shared excitement and curiosity. She hesitated only for a second before placing her hand in yours. As you led her to the dancefloor, the sensation of her hand in yours was electric, like a surge of energy connecting two celestial bodies. The transition from the intimate conversation to the dancefloor felt like a natural progression, a step closer to the unknown yet thrilling.

The music's tempo picked up, the beats more insistent, and the dancefloor pulsed with life. You and Natasha moved together, bodies swaying to the rhythm, each step a dance of discovery and connection. The surrounding world faded, and it was just the two of you, lost in the music and each other’s presence.

As you danced, the cosmos seemed to align around you, the energy between you building, charged with the unspoken understanding that this night was far from ordinary. The stars outside might have been the same, but within the bar, under the pulsating lights, the universe had shifted, drawing you and Natasha closer in a celestial dance of your own.

On the dancefloor, the lights cast fleeting shadows and highlights across the crowd, creating an otherworldly ambiance that perfectly matched the charged atmosphere between you and Natasha. The music's rhythm was a heartbeat echoing through the space, a constant pulse that synced with the mounting tension between you.

As you moved together, your bodies swayed in time with the music, and the space between you was filled with an almost tangible electric charge. Natasha’s proximity was intoxicating; her body moved with a grace that made every gesture seem deliberate, every touch a whisper of something deeper. The heat from her body radiated toward you, a warmth that contrasted with the cool air around you. It was as if the space between you was charged with a magnetic force, drawing you closer with each beat.

Your breaths were synchronised, each inhale and exhale creating a shared rhythm that made the air between you thick with anticipation. The warmth of Natasha's breath brushed against your skin, a tantalising hint of the intimacy that was just out of reach. Every time she exhaled, her breath mingled with yours, creating a delicate, almost imperceptible mist that hung between you, a prelude to something more.

The way you moved together felt like a cosmic dance, a choreography written by the stars themselves. Your faces were close enough that you could feel the soft, fluttering rush of Natasha's breath against your cheek, a feather-light sensation that made your heart race. Her scent—a subtle blend of something earthy and sweet—filled your senses, adding another layer to the growing tension. The scent of her perfume lingered around you, a promise of what might come if only you took that final step.

As the music swelled, so did the space between you, narrowing with each synchronised movement. Your hands brushed against each other, not quite touching but close enough to feel the warmth and electricity of the almost-contact. The tips of your fingers grazed Natasha’s arms, each brush of skin a delicate dance that sent shivers up your spine.

As you danced, Natasha became acutely aware of the press of your bodies against each other. She could feel the firm outline of your body pressing into hers, the subtle, undeniable evidence of your physical arousal becoming more apparent with each move. Her mind, however, was consumed by the emotional pull she felt towards you. The realisation of your physical presence was there, but it was the depth of the connection and the intensity of the moment that held her attention, making her heart race and her thoughts scatter, consumed by the unexpected bond forming between you.

Every step, every turn brought you closer, the space between you shrinking to a mere whisper. The world outside faded into insignificance; it was just the two of you, locked in this electrifying dance of proximity and tension. The music, the lights, the crowd—all were background to the magnetic force pulling you toward each other, a force that felt as inevitable as the gravitational pull of a star.

The longer you remained in each other’s orbit, the more the tension skyrocketed, reaching a crescendo that left you both breathless and yearning. It was as if the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting for the moment when the pull between you would finally break free and the last inch of space would vanish.

Every inch you moved toward each other was charged with potential, the slightest shift in your posture bringing you ever closer. Natasha's lips were soft and inviting, just a whisper away from yours. You could feel the heat of her breath mingling with yours, a tantalising promise of what was almost within reach. The world around you seemed to blur into the background, leaving only the two of you in this charged, suspended moment.

Just as your lips were on the verge of touching, a sudden, jarring push came from the crowd. Someone bumped into Natasha, jostling her slightly and causing your lips to make the barest of contact. The touch was fleeting, barely a brush, but it was electrifying. The moment your lips connected, a spark seemed to leap between you, sending a jolt of sensation through both of you.

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat as she absorbed the unexpected charge. You could feel the lingering warmth of her lips, the fleeting connection leaving you both breathless and yearning for more.

The crowd’s movement had broken the spell, and Natasha stepped back slightly, her cheeks flushed and her gaze still locked onto yours. The touch had been a mere fraction of a second, but it had set off a cascade of emotions, leaving both of you craving the closeness that had just been so tantalisingly close.

As you steadied yourselves, the magnetic pull between you remained a constant, irresistible force drawing you together. The music played on, its rhythm now a mere backdrop to the heightened anticipation that filled the space between you. Though the moment had passed, its electric charge lingered, leaving both of you with an unspoken promise and a shared yearning for what might come next.

The crowd around you swirled and ebbed with the rhythm of the night, but the tension between you and Natasha remained palpable, a hum of anticipation. As the music continued its relentless beat, you both found yourselves gravitating back to the bar. Natasha’s hand rested gently on your back, her touch warm and soft, a comforting presence amidst the pulsating energy of the club.

When you glanced at your phone, you were surprised to find it was already 3. The hour had crept up on you both with gentle inevitability. With a soft sigh, you decided it was time to head home, the night having stretched far beyond your expectations. You exchanged warm, lingering looks, the unspoken promise of what could be hanging between you like a delicate thread.

The brief connection you shared at the bar was intense, but neither of you had exchanged contact details, only names. Lost in the whirlwind of the night and the unexpected bond, you both had an unspoken understanding that you'd see each other again soon. Yet, neither of you anticipated how quickly fate would intertwine your paths once more. In reality, 'soon' would turn out to be just a few hours away, as destiny was ready to bring you together again in the most unexpected way.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

You woke up gently, still wrapped in the warmth of your duvet. A content sigh escaped your lips as you snuggled deeper into the covers. But as you lazily pried one eye open, your heart leaped at the sight of the digital clock flashing 8:20 a.m.

The realisation struck you with a jolt; you were already twenty minutes late for class. Panic surged through you as you scrambled out of bed, your mind racing with a mix of frustration and urgency.

You threw on clothes in a flurry, silently cursing yourself for oversleeping and hoping that, somehow, the stars would align in your favour. You clung to a faint hope that Professor Rambeau would understand—it was Monday morning after all, and you were usually always punctual.

As you hurriedly gathered your things and dashed out the door, a lingering thought crossed your mind: being late to class felt like a small price to pay for the pure connection you’d experienced the night before. A smile tugged at your lips, a fleeting reminder of that moment. But as you jogged towards campus, the smile quickly faded into a frown as you hoped, more than anything, that you wouldn’t be the only one arriving late.

As you rounded the corner of the campus building, you spotted Maria and Leighton walking briskly toward the lecture hall, their animated conversation making its way through the crisp morning air. Both were clearly running late as well, their hurried pace matching yours.

Maria Hill, with her signature no-nonsense demeanour, was in the middle of an animated tirade about Leighton's habit of hitting the snooze button too many times. Her voice, though frustrated, had a familiar warmth that felt oddly comforting. Leighton Murray, on the other hand, seemed to be giving as good as she got, her own sharp retorts mingling with laughter as she tried to defend her morning routine.

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as you approached them. Their bickering, filled with playful jabs and half-serious complaints, brought a smile to your lips and a sense of relief to your otherwise frazzled morning. As you caught up with them, you felt your heart steady, thankful that you were not the only one scrambling to make it to class on time.

"Hey, you two!" you called out, falling into step beside them. "Glad to see I'm not the only one who's fashionably late."

Maria glanced at you, her expression softening from irritation to mild amusement. "Looks like we're all in the same boat. Where’s your usual punctuality?"

Leighton grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yeah, you’re usually the first one here. What happened—sleep in for the first time ever?"

You shrugged, the earlier stress melting away with their presence. "You could say I had a bit of an unexpected night. But hey, at least I’m not alone in this."

As you approached the lecture hall, the three of you exchanged knowing glances and shared a collective breath, ready to face whatever Professor Rambeau had in store for the day. The laughter and camaraderie of your friends had turned a stressful start into a reminder that sometimes, the universe has a way of aligning things perfectly—even if it's just for a shared moment of imperfect punctuality.

As you and your friends entered the classroom, a sudden hush fell over the room. The usual chatter about equations and coursework abruptly ceased, replaced by a palpable tension. Your eyes scanned the room, and to your shock, the figure at the front was none other than the redhead from last night.

Natasha stood at the front, her face composed and inscrutable. Her emerald eyes flicked towards you, registering a brief flicker of surprise, followed by an emotionless coldness that was hard to ignore. She then quickly shifted her gaze to the other two girls standing beside you, Maria and Leighton, who she realised were not at the bar a few hours ago.

Leighton, always quick with a quip, broke the silence with her usual bravado. "Uh, excuse me, but who the hell are you, and where’s Professor Rambeau?"

Natasha’s voice, sharp and devoid of warmth, cut through the air. “If you had been on time, like every other student here, you would know that I am replacing Professor Rambeau, who is on maternity leave. Unless you want to start off on an even worse foot with me, I suggest you sit down and get to work.”

The depth of Natasha’s rasp was familiar, but her tone was starkly different from the warmth you’d experienced the night before. It was all business now, a far cry from the easy connection you’d shared earlier.

With no other choice, and feeling the weight of Natasha’s authoritative gaze, you exchanged uneasy glances with Maria and Leighton before finding your seats. As you sat down, the reality of the situation set in. Natasha—your enigmatic redhead from the bar—was now your professor, and the unspoken promise of the previous night suddenly felt very unattainable in the light of this new dynamic.

As the classroom chatter resumed, Natasha wrestled with her swirling thoughts. The vibrant connection she had felt with you the night before now seemed almost unreal in the sterile academic environment.

Despite her efforts to focus on the lecture, her gaze kept drifting toward you. You were absorbed in your work, but Natasha couldn’t shake the pull she felt towards you. The ease and connection from last night clashed sharply with the formalities of the classroom, making her feel disoriented.

As students whispered and worked, Natasha’s thoughts remained centred on you. Each glance in your direction stirred up a mixture of confusion and longing. The promise of what had been a potential connection now seemed distant and unattainable, buried under the weight of her professional responsibilities and the unexpected emotions she was struggling to manage.

As the clock struck noon, signalling the end of class, the room buzzed with the sound of shuffling papers and the clatter of backpacks being packed away. You took your time, even though you knew you should move on from the fleeting connection you had felt the night before. It had been nothing more than an intense moment, pure and untouched, but still, it lingered in your mind.

Leighton and Maria were quick to escape, their footsteps echoing down the hallway as they left, eager to distance themselves from the professor who had, in their eyes, bruised their egos. Natasha, meanwhile, remained seated at her desk, her attention apparently fixed on her papers, though she was acutely aware of your presence lingering in the classroom.

The room had quickly emptied, but you were still there. You moved at a deliberate pace, your footsteps quiet and measured. As you made your way toward the door at the front of the class, bringing you closer to Natasha's desk, the tension between you seemed to build again, palpable and almost tangible.

When you paused to turn and look back, Natasha's gaze met yours. Her emerald eyes were now swirling with emotions—confusion, surprise, sadness, and a sharp pang of guilt. Despite the undercurrent of it, the tension remained, the unspoken bond between you still crackling in the air. It was as if the connection you had shared was waiting to be acknowledged, hanging heavily in the space between you, and drawing both of you into a magnetic, unresolved pull.

The room fell into an enveloping silence, both of you locked in a quiet standoff of unspoken emotions. Natasha’s gaze was steady, but her expression betrayed a swirl of confusion and yearning. You, unable to resist the growing tension, finally broke the silence.

With a small, rueful smile, you shook your head gently and murmured, “You don’t look a day older than 25, I’m sorry.” The words, meant to ease the tension, had the opposite effect. Natasha’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, her eyes wide as they searched yours. The warmth in her gaze was now unmistakable, reflecting a mix of surprise and a lingering pull towards you.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, a sad smile tugging at her lips as she absorbed your words. The soft blush on her cheeks spoke volumes, a silent testament to the attraction and connection that still simmered beneath the surface.

“I didn’t think a student would be out on a Sunday night,” Natasha replied quietly, her voice carrying a hint of regret. “I’m sorry too.”

The tension in the room remained palpable, as if the air itself was charged with the unresolved feelings between you. You were just as sweet, gentle, and caring as you had been the night before, and Natasha found herself just as drawn to you, the pull between you undeniable.

You sighed softly, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts. When you opened them again, the warmth and sincerity in your gaze were unmistakable. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the unspoken connection hanging between you both.

Natasha stood up slowly, her movements deliberate as she turned her attention to the pile of papers on her desk. She gathered them with careful precision, placing them into her bag. The act was a physical attempt to distance herself from you, a bid to bury the connection that lingered so insistently.

She had to do this. She had to let the connection remain in the past. But how could she, when you had managed to break down the walls she had meticulously built? Walls that protected her independence, her self-reliance, and her belief that she needed no one. How was she supposed to simply walk away from someone who had managed to penetrate her defences so effortlessly, and so fast? This wasn’t like her, and she tried to convince herself that losing her job over a woman she had met less than 24 hours prior to this moment wasn’t worth it.

As Natasha turned, you immediately noticed the shift in her demeanour. She was retreating, attempting to leave behind the connection that had seemed so potent only hours earlier.

Maybe you were just imagining things—after all, you didn’t know her well enough to decipher the myriad feelings that flickered across her gaze. What were you even thinking, clinging to this fleeting connection?

“Make sure not to be late next time, Y/N. This is your first and last warning,” Natasha said, her voice striving for a cold, impersonal tone. But even as she spoke, you could sense the struggle behind her words, the battle between her professional facade and the personal turmoil she was trying so hard to hide.

You remained silent, trying to understand her position, even though it was difficult to fully grasp. After all, you didn’t know her well enough to be this affected. You reminded yourself to act like an adult—leave it behind, forget about the few hours you shared, and move on. You had to let go of the memory of her gaze, the way she danced with you, and the tender, reserved softness she had shown you just hours earlier.

With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of the classroom. Natasha's face fell slightly as she watched you go, her emotions a mix of regret and resignation. She quickly masked her feelings, lifting her shoulders and straightening her back, running a hand through her hair as if to shake off the lingering weight of the moment.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

The weeks passed like drifting stardust, each day adding to the tangled web of emotions between Natasha and you. What had once felt like a fleeting connection was now a persistent gravitational force, pulling you both in a direction neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Yet, rather than embrace that pull, both of you built walls around it—resorting to coldness, even biting words, whenever the tension grew too close to the surface.

In the classroom, Natasha’s cold demeanour became a carefully constructed barrier. Her words were sharp, professional, and devoid of the warmth you had felt in her gaze that first night. But even through her frosty demeanour, you caught glimpses of the lingering emotions she was trying so desperately to hide. Her eyes would flicker toward you, a little too long, before snapping away—like someone dodging a question they don’t want to answer.

Outside the classroom, in the hallways and the cafeteria, your interactions were no better. When you crossed paths, there was an almost tangible electricity between you, but both of you chose to hide behind icy exchanges or curt nods. Every sarcastic remark from Natasha seemed to cut deeper than it should, but you responded in kind, unwilling to show any vulnerability in return. The magnetic pull between you, undeniable as it was, became something you both tried to sever with words and avoidance.

Yet, despite the coldness, there was still something underneath it all, a yearning that you both refused to admit to yourselves. As the days stretched into weeks, the tension only grew more unbearable. The brief glances, the curt exchanges, the moments of accidental contact—all of it felt like a star burning too brightly before it inevitably collapses.

You found yourself thinking about her at the oddest moments—late at night or when the classroom was quiet, the memory of her eyes and her presence refusing to leave your mind. Despite her sharp words, you couldn’t help but notice the way her voice softened when she thought no one was listening. Natasha, on the other hand, cursed herself every time her gaze drifted toward you or when her thoughts lingered on the conversations you used to have. Every insult, every cold word, was her way of trying to smother the fire that had started to burn too brightly.

In the spaces between, the two of you danced around the connection you once felt, pretending that the hostility was all that remained. But deep down, beneath the sharp words and cold exteriors, you both knew the pull was still there, simmering just out of reach—waiting for a moment when everything else would finally fall away.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

Natasha had always been good at compartmentalising—keeping her personal life in one box and her professional life in another, sealed tightly. But with you, it was different. The more she tried to put distance between the two of you, the more it gnawed at her. The pull between you two was magnetic, no matter how cold she tried to be, how many walls she threw up. Each glance in your direction became a betrayal of her own willpower. She cursed herself for feeling the way she did, but the flutter in her chest wouldn’t stop. And despite her best efforts to be distant, there was always a spark in her eyes when she looked at you, one she couldn’t quite extinguish.

You felt it too, the constant undercurrent of tension. Every time you looked at her, you saw something flicker behind those green eyes—emotions she refused to let rise to the surface. The way she treated you, cold and distant in class, felt forced, as if she were fighting herself as much as you. But you had grown frustrated with the pretence, with the tension that never seemed to resolve. Every shared glance in the hallways, every encounter in the cafeteria only

added fuel to the fire burning between you two. There was an undeniable pull, a gravitational force pulling you closer, but every time you neared, she pushed you away.

Natasha, on the other hand, was getting more conflicted with each passing day. It was becoming harder for her to hide the warmth that surged every time she saw you. Yet she kept up the act, treating you like any other student. But it wasn’t working. Not anymore. The barrier she had built was crumbling piece by piece, and she knew it.

For you, the frustration was mounting. She acted like the connection you had felt was nothing, as if she could pretend it didn’t exist. And yet, you knew it was there, simmering beneath every interaction. You could see it in the way her eyes lingered on you, the quick glances that conveyed so much more than she wanted to admit. It was only a matter of time before it all came to a head.

Both of you were falling—falling deeper into something neither of you could admit to yourselves, let alone each other.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

It started small—barely noticeable—but Natasha had picked up on it during the last few classes. You were acting differently. Smiling more at other people, laughing with Leighton and Maria, even flirting a bit with someone in the row behind you. The attention you gave others didn’t go unnoticed, and Natasha, from the front of the class, felt an unfamiliar tightness in her chest.

She wasn’t supposed to care. You were her student. You weren’t supposed to affect her this way, but every laugh you shared with someone else, every time you leaned in just a little too close to another person, that tightness grew. She gritted her teeth, her words sharper as she gave out the day’s assignment, trying to keep her tone professional. But you could tell—Natasha was fuming.

And that only made you push it more.

Over the next few days, you noticed her reactions becoming more pronounced. The way her eyes lingered on you longer when you talked to someone else. How her expression hardened when you didn’t give her your full attention. There was a cold jealousy simmering under the surface of her strict professionalism, and you knew it. You had felt the tension for weeks, and maybe it was the frustration of never addressing it that made you push her buttons now.

Today, you arrived late again, strolling in with an air of indifference, knowing it would irritate her. Her eyes followed you as you made your way to your seat, deliberately not apologizing, instead flashing a smile at someone next to you. You felt Natasha’s gaze burning into you from the front of the room, her hands gripping the edge of her desk just a little too tightly.

By the time class ended, the weight of her stare had become unbearable. She hadn’t said anything to you, but the tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut through. You

could feel her irritation from across the room, and part of you enjoyed it—enjoyed pushing her, seeing how far you could take it before she snapped.

As the rest of the class filtered out, you stayed behind. Natasha was still seated at her desk, papers spread out before her, but she wasn’t looking at them. Her gaze was fixed on you, cold and steely, the perfect picture of control—except for the way her jaw clenched every time you flashed a smile at someone else.

When the room finally emptied, leaving the two of you alone, Natasha didn’t wait.

"You were late again," she said, her voice dangerously low, each word clipped and precise. She pushed down the guilt she knew would follow, deciding that for your own good, this needed to stop. "Care to explain yourself this time, or are you really willing to throw away your degree over someone you spoke to for just a few hours at a bar?"

You raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against a desk, that familiar smirk playing at your lips, though you couldn’t help but feel your heart twitch slightly at her words. "I didn’t think you cared so much. Not like anyone else seemed to mind my late arrival."

Natasha shot you a piercing look, her annoyance barely masking a hint of something softer. "Of course I care. It’s part of my job to ensure you don’t waste your potential."

You leaned in slightly, a teasing grin on your face. "You know, I think I can sense how you feel. It’s hard not to, especially when the connection between us is so intense."

Natasha’s heart stammered in her chest as she fought to maintain her composure, the anger bubbling up faster than gravity could pull her down. Her eyes narrowed, the restraint she’d held onto for weeks fraying at the edges. "Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing."

You crossed your arms, feigning innocence. "What am I doing, exactly, Professor Romanoff?"

Natasha stood, the chair scraping against the floor as she moved toward you, closing the distance with each deliberate step. "You’ve been testing me. Pushing me. I don’t have time for whatever game you think this is. Move on. Stop trying. This never started, yet we both know it’s over."

You scoffed, meeting her fiery gaze head-on. "Maybe if you’d stop acting so jealous whenever you see me ‘moving on,’ as you put it, I’d have more success at that. But see, Professor," you emphasised her title with a teasing smirk, "I think you’re a bit jealous. Maybe you should move on too, or stop acting like a scared deer and confront your feelings head-on."

Her breath hitched, hands curling into fists as she struggled to maintain her composure. The emotions in her eyes were clear—unknown to her, you could practically read her like an open book. The slight anger flickering in her gaze didn’t escape your notice; her jealousy was merely a glass wall, transparent yet impenetrable.

"You're right, Natasha," you continued, straightening up and taking a step toward her. "Something has changed. We’ve been pretending for weeks, and I’m done with it. You can push me away all you want, but we both know this doesn’t just disappear."

Natasha’s gaze flickered, her usual mask slipping as anger and desire clashed behind her eyes. She took another step forward, her voice low and trembling with the effort to contain her emotions. "You need to stop."

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The tension had reached a breaking point, and the space between you crackled with everything left unsaid. "Why? Because you can’t handle it?"

That did it. Natasha’s control snapped, her hand shooting out to grab your wrist, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches apart. Her voice was a harsh whisper. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel it? Every time I look at you, I—"

She cut herself off, her breath shaky as she tried to rein it in, but you saw the raw emotion in her eyes, the way her chest rose and fell with the effort of keeping it all inside.

"You don’t have to hold it in anymore," you murmured, leaning in closer, your breath mingling with hers. "Just let go."

For a moment, it felt like time stopped. Neither of you moved, both breathing hard, the weight of everything you had been holding back pressing down on the small space between you. Then, as if something in you shifted, you slowly turned towards the door. Natasha’s grip on your wrist tightened for a second, her eyes flaring in sudden panic as you reached for the handle.

Natasha’s chest was tight, each breath a struggle against the storm of emotions rising inside her. She’d kept her walls up for so long, hidden behind the cold professionalism that had been her refuge, but now, alone with you in the classroom, the weight of it all crashed over her. Her heart raced as you locked the door and closed the blinds, her pulse thrumming in her ears. 

"Leaving already?" she asked, her words cutting through the quiet, sharp and defensive, like a last-ditch attempt to hold onto some semblance of control. But the truth was laid bare in the way her voice wavered, betraying her. 

When you turned back, your eyes dark with intention, Natasha felt a shiver run through her. There was no going back now. No retreat. The late hour, the locked door, the quiet hallway—it all felt like you had stepped into another world, one where she didn’t have to hide anymore.

You stepped forward, your presence commanding, and the distance between you seemed to evaporate. Natasha’s breath hitched as you loomed closer, her fists tightening at her sides in a desperate attempt to hold on to the crumbling control she had left.

“We both know you don’t want me to go,” you said, your voice low, carrying a certainty that made her heart pound harder. You weren’t asking; you knew. The truth hung between you like a blade, sharp and undeniable.

She opened her mouth to argue, to push you away, but no words came out. Instead, her body betrayed her, leaning toward you as if it had been waiting for this—waiting for you—to close the gap.

“Why don’t you admit it?” you continued, stepping even closer, your presence overwhelming her senses. Your breath ghosted over her skin, your words digging into the rawness she had kept hidden for so long. “Why don’t you just say what you’ve been dying to say all this time?”

Her jaw clenched, the anger flaring up in her chest like a defence mechanism. "You’re so... infuriating," she bit out, her voice tight with the effort of holding it all in. But you could see it—the vulnerability she was trying to hide, the way her hands trembled slightly at her sides, as if she was on the edge of losing herself completely.

"I know," you whispered, your voice soft, yet heavy with intent as you reached out, your fingers cupping her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "But you love it."

And there it was. The truth she had been denying, the one she had tried so hard to bury beneath layers of professionalism and restraint. The truth that scared her, not because of what it was, but because of how deeply it ran. How much she wanted you. How much it terrified her to let herself feel it.

For a second, Natasha’s resolve wavered, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of your words settled between you. Her heart raced, her mind spinning with everything she had fought to suppress, but then your lips crashed against hers, and the last of her defences shattered.

The kiss was fierce, raw, and filled with everything that had built up between you for weeks. Natasha’s hands fisted in your shirt, pulling you closer, desperate and needy, as if the space between you was unbearable. Your lips moved against hers with an intensity that left her dizzy, her mind clouded with the sensation of you—your taste, your warmth, the way your body felt pressed against hers.

She moaned into the kiss, her body arching toward yours, her fingers digging into your chest as if she needed to anchor herself, to keep from drowning in the torrent of emotions flooding her. But then you pulled back, your gaze burning into hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

"Sit on the desk," you commanded, your voice rough, thick with both desire and authority.

Natasha hesitated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to pull back before she lost herself completely, but the fire in your gaze, the undeniable pull between you, left her powerless to resist. Slowly, she stepped back, her legs trembling as she hoisted herself onto the edge of the desk. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and in that moment, she wasn’t the composed professor anymore. She was just a woman, vulnerable and exposed, her walls finally down.

You moved between her legs, your hands sliding up her thighs, rough and insistent, and Natasha let out a soft gasp, her body responding to your touch without hesitation. Her head tilted back slightly, her lips parting as a shudder ran through her, and in that moment, it wasn’t just about desire—it was about everything that had been left unsaid between you.

The tension, the frustration, the fear—it all came crashing down, and with it, a deep, overwhelming need to let go. To stop fighting. To feel.

As your hands moved over her body, your touch was firm, unrelenting, yet there was something else beneath it. Something raw and emotional, something that made Natasha’s chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the fact that this wasn’t just some fleeting moment. This was real. You were real. And that scared her more than anything.

Natasha’s breath hitched, her hands gripping the edges of the desk as if she was holding on for dear life. "You have no idea what you do to me," she whispered, her voice shaky, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and desire as she met your gaze.

You paused, your hands resting on her thighs, your expression softening as you leaned in closer, your forehead resting against hers. "I think I do," you murmured, your voice low, intimate, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. "And I’m not going anywhere, Natasha. Not until you let me in."

Her eyes fluttered shut, a shaky breath escaping her lips, and for the first time, she let herself believe it. Believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep running from this. From you.

"I’m scared," she admitted softly, her voice barely audible, as if the words themselves were too fragile to speak aloud.

"I know," you whispered, your thumb brushing gently over her cheek. "But you don’t have to be."

And in that moment, with the weight of everything hanging between you, Natasha finally let herself fall.

The room was suffused with a quiet tension, the world outside forgotten as you pressed your forehead gently against hers, the warmth of your breath mingling in the air between you. Natasha’s legs had wrapped around your waist almost instinctively, pulling you closer, holding you to her as if letting go meant facing the storm of emotions she had finally let herself feel.

Your hands cupped her face, your touch tender despite the desire simmering just below the surface. You kissed her softly at first, teasingly, your lips brushing against hers with the kind of control that let a shiver run down Natasha’s spine. Her hands, once clenched in anger and frustration, now rested against your soft chest, fingers splayed as if she needed to feel every inch of you, every beat of your heart.

Her breath hitched when you deepened the kiss, your lips parting hers as your tongue slid against hers in slow, deliberate movements. The kiss wasn’t hurried—it was filled with the kind

of longing that had been building for weeks. You poured every unsaid word, every moment of frustration, every bit of want into the way you kissed her, and Natasha responded with a soft moan that she barely managed to keep from escaping. Her thighs tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer.

The kiss grew more fervent, the emotional weight of it intertwining with a heat that neither of you could ignore any longer. Natasha arched toward you, her body pressed against yours, and as your lips moved against hers with growing intensity, you felt her start to lose the composure she had clung to for so long.

You couldn’t help but feel the way her body responded to you—the way her breath hitched in her throat, the way her fingers curled against your chest, desperate for more, yet still trying to maintain control. But the control wasn’t hers anymore, not really. You held it, though gently, almost reverently, as if you knew exactly what Natasha needed and how fragile this moment was.

But then you felt it—her legs tightening around you, pulling you in as your erection pressed against her through the fabric of your clothes. Natasha let out a quiet gasp, her grip on you tightening. Her lips parted against yours, the kiss turning rougher, more desperate, as the heat between you built to a fever pitch. Every kiss, every touch was charged with the intensity of everything that had been bottled up for too long.

Natasha tried to keep herself composed, tried to stifle the soft noises that threatened to spill from her lips, but you could feel her restraint faltering. Her legs squeezed tighter around you, her hips shifting ever so slightly, and you knew she was pushing herself closer to you, needing the friction, needing the closeness.

Your hands slid down from her face, trailing over her neck, her shoulders, until they settled on her waist, pulling her even closer, pressing her against the desk. She let out a shaky breath, her head falling back for a moment as your lips moved to her neck, trailing soft kisses that made her shudder.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you back up to her lips, and the kiss that followed was anything but soft. It was hungry, needy, filled with a desire that neither of you could hold back anymore. Natasha’s body pressed against yours, her legs keeping you firmly in place as her lips moved with a desperation that matched your own.

The heat between you grew with each second, the tension thick in the air as your hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her hips, her waist, as if you were memorising every part of her. The more you touched her, the more she responded, her body arching into your hands, her breath coming in ragged gasps that she struggled to keep quiet.

She bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she felt your erection press harder against her. The sensation sent a wave of heat through her, and despite the risk of someone walking past, she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she wanted in that moment was you—your touch, your kiss, the feeling of you so close, yet still not close enough.

"Someone could..." she started, her voice barely a whisper, her lips brushing against yours as she tried to find her breath. But the words trailed off, unfinished, as you kissed her again, harder this time, swallowing whatever protest she might have made.

Her body betrayed her, hips pushing up against you, and you felt her legs tighten, pulling you even closer until there was almost no space left between you. The feeling of your erection pressing against her sent a thrill through her body, and despite the slim chance that someone could walk past, she didn’t care anymore. The risk only made it more intoxicating.

Your hands slid to her thighs, gripping them as you pressed her harder against the desk, your kisses growing more frantic, more heated with each second. Natasha’s breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried—and failed—to keep herself quiet. Her fingers gripped the edges of the desk, her body trembling under your touch, and you could feel how much she needed this, needed you.

Every kiss, every touch was electric, the tension between you finally breaking free, and the feeling of her pulling you closer, the way her body responded to yours, left you both on the edge of something you couldn’t quite control.

"Natasha," you murmured against her lips, your voice thick with emotion, with need, and she responded with a low moan, her body arching into yours, her fingers digging into your back as if she couldn’t bear to let you go.

Her lips parted, her breath hot against your skin as she whispered your name, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she had been holding back. The sound of it—the vulnerability, the need—was enough to undo you, and you kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring everything into that one moment.

As the kiss deepened, the air between you became thick with desire, the heat of the moment pressing against every corner of the small, dimly lit classroom. Natasha was still trembling under your touch, her legs locked around your waist, her chest heaving with shallow breaths as she struggled to keep the rising sounds inside her throat.

You pulled back slowly, the kiss breaking with an audible gasp from Natasha’s lips, her eyes half-lidded with need and confusion as she looked at you. Her grip on your shirt slackened for just a moment, but the fire in her gaze told you she was still desperate, still on edge. But you weren't rushing. Not now.

Without a word, you stood back, your hands lingering on her thighs for just a second longer before you let go completely. Natasha watched you, her breath still unsteady, her brow furrowing as you took a small step away from her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body aching from the absence of your touch, but you didn’t rush to fill that space.

Instead, you took your time, letting your gaze travel over her—taking in the way her legs dangled off the edge of the desk, how her skin flushed pink in the soft glow of the classroom’s lights. Natasha was still, frozen almost, waiting for your next move, her body tense with the anticipation of it. Her lips parted, as if to ask why you’d stopped, but the words never came. She didn’t have to say anything. You could see it in her eyes, the way she was balancing on the edge of need, barely holding on.

Slowly, you reached for the hem of your shirt, your fingers slipping under the fabric. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes followed your movements, her pulse quickening as you started to undress, the anticipation building between you like a crackling charge.

You didn’t pull the shirt off in one quick motion. Instead, you dragged it over your body slowly, teasingly, lifting it inch by inch, revealing the skin beneath in a sensual, deliberate way that made Natasha’s gaze darken. Her hands gripped the desk behind her, her knuckles white as she watched you. The soft rustle of the fabric was the only sound in the room, aside from the erratic rhythm of her breathing.

As you pulled the shirt over your head, you tossed it aside, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought. Natasha’s eyes followed it for just a moment before flicking back to you, her gaze roaming over the newly exposed skin, drinking in every detail. The controlled, measured way you undressed was a stark contrast to the fire that had been between you just moments before—a slow, sensual display that had Natasha captivated, her body humming with a new kind of tension.

You held her gaze as your hands moved to the waistband of your pants, your fingers slipping just beneath the fabric, teasing at the idea of what was coming next. Natasha’s breath hitched, her eyes locking onto your hands, and you could see the way her body shifted, as if every part of her was straining to get closer to you again. Her legs tightened around the desk, her lips parted as she fought to keep the soft sounds that threatened to escape locked behind her teeth.

With agonising slowness, you began to slide your pants down, revealing the skin beneath inch by inch. Natasha’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession, her eyes tracing every movement of your body. The smooth way you undressed, the control you still held in this moment, was a direct contrast to the way her body had been shaking, the way she had surrendered to the moment so completely. You could see the effect it had on her—the way her breath faltered, the way her fingers flexed against the wood of the desk.

Once your pants pooled around your ankles, you stepped out of them, your movements deliberate, your gaze never leaving hers. Natasha’s eyes were locked on you, her lips trembling with the effort to stay silent, to keep control over herself, even as her body betrayed her, every inch of her skin tingling with the awareness of you standing before her.

You stood there for a moment, letting her take you in, letting her eyes wander over your now half-bare form. The weight of her gaze sent a thrill down your spine, but you didn’t rush. You wanted her to feel this, to burn with the same desire that had been building between the two of you for almost three months.

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and her eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a quiet plea. She wanted you—needed you—but you weren’t going to give in just yet. You were in control, and the power of that sent a rush of heat through your veins.

You stepped back toward her, standing between her legs once more, your hands finding her thighs again. Natasha let out a shaky breath as your fingers skimmed the sensitive skin just below the hem of her dress, teasing her without giving her what she wanted. Her body leaned into you, but you held her back, just slightly, enough to keep her wanting.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice soft but heavy with intent. Natasha’s breath caught, her eyes flickering with something vulnerable, something raw.

She tried to respond, but you silenced her with another kiss, your lips moving against hers with the same measured control you’d used to undress. It wasn’t a rough kiss—this time, it was slow, deliberate, your hands sliding up her thighs as your tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting the need she could no longer keep hidden.

Natasha moaned softly, her legs tightening around you again, and you could feel her body trembling under your hands. The kiss grew deeper, more passionate with every second, but you maintained the control, teasing her just enough to keep her on edge, to keep her aching for more.

She could feel your erection pressing against her again, harder now, and the sensation sent a ripple of heat through her body. Her hands moved to your back, nails digging in as she tried to pull you closer, but you resisted, keeping just enough distance to drive her mad. The slow, sensual way you were kissing her contrasted so sharply with the intensity of her need that it left her gasping for air, her body trembling with the effort to hold back.

You broke the kiss, your lips trailing down to her neck, leaving a path of soft, deliberate kisses that made Natasha shudder beneath you. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you worked your way lower, your hands slipping under her dress, your fingers tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, teasing, exploring, but never quite giving her what she craved.

“Tell me what you want,” you murmured against her skin, your lips brushing against her ear, your voice soft and controlled. Natasha let out a quiet whimper, her body arching into you, but you held her back, just enough to keep her from getting what she wanted.

“I… I want you,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her body desperate for more.

But you didn’t give in yet. You wanted her to beg for it, wanted her to show you how much she wanted you.

You tutted softly, feigning disappointment as you gave Natasha a fake pout, shaking your head ever so slightly. “Be more specific, Natasha,” you murmured, your voice laced with teasing command. But beneath your words, there was a tenderness, a patience that had her wavering on the edge.

Natasha’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her eyes flitting down to avoid your intense gaze. She was struggling, and you could see it—could feel it in the way her body shifted under your touch. No matter how much she wanted this, no matter how desperately she ached for you, she had never been stripped bare of her defences like this. You had torn through her walls, peeling back the layers of control she clung to so tightly. She felt vulnerable, exposed, naked in ways that went far beyond the clothes still clinging to her body.

You could sense it—her hesitation, her fear. And even though she sat before you, legs wrapped around your waist, desire burning in her eyes, you didn’t push her. You didn’t rush her to undress, didn’t demand anything more from her than she was ready to give.

You stood there, your body half-bare, clad in nothing but your bra and boxers. The air between you was charged, the intimacy of the moment so thick it was almost suffocating. Natasha’s eyes flickered over you, taking in your form, her breath catching in her throat. But you didn’t push. You waited.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence but carrying no judgement, only understanding. “I know you’re scared—for your job, for me…” You paused, letting the weight of your words hang between you. You knew her fears, knew the weight of the responsibilities she carried, the precarious line she was walking. But there was something deeper in her fear—something more intimate, more personal. She was scared for you too. Not just of losing you, but of letting you in.

But you knew, even as she struggled to speak, that if it ever came down to it, if she had to choose between you and her job, she would choose you. In a heartbeat. And as you stood there, the tension wrapping tighter around the two of you, the silent communication between your eyes and hers told you something else. Something just as important.

She realised you would choose her too.

For a long moment, the two of you stood in that quiet space, everything unspoken swirling between you, heavy and electric. And then, something in Natasha shifted. Her gaze softened, the fear still there but no longer consuming her. She let go—of her walls, of her control, of the weight she had carried for so long.

Slowly, her hands reached for yours. Her touch was tentative, trembling, but it was real. She pulled you closer, drawing you back into the space between her legs. But this time, there was something different in her movements—something raw and vulnerable, something that took your breath away. She was letting herself go in a way you had never seen her before. No more pretence. No more games.

“Please…” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion, her breath trembling as she spoke. Her words were soft, but the need in them was palpable, heavy with everything she had been holding back. She was incredibly vulnerable in this moment, but so incredibly needy too. And goddamn, she was in love. You could see it in the way her eyes brimmed with tears, in the way her lips quivered as she struggled to keep her composure.

“Please,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, but every word hit you like a wave. “Please… make me feel good. I just want you to be mine,” Natasha’s voice trembled, her hands tightening around yours, as if she feared you might pull away. “Please, I want to be yours.”

Her eyes, wet with unshed tears, searched yours, her vulnerability laid bare, her heart exposed. She had never let anyone in like this, had never given someone this much power over her. But she didn’t care. She just wanted you.

Natasha’s breath was ragged, her eyes glistening with a mixture of desire and vulnerability as she looked up at you. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then reached for your hands with a determined yet trembling grip. Without a word, she guided your hands beneath her white shirt, her movements urgent, as if afraid that if she hesitated for even a moment, the spell between you might break.

Her touch was electric, sending shivers across your skin as she pushed your hands higher. You could feel her body heat through the thin fabric of her shirt, the intensity of her need almost overwhelming. Her fingers skimmed over your chest, her touch both tender and insistent.

As your hands slid up, Natasha’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips as she pressed delicate kisses all over your chest. Each kiss was a gentle caress, an exploration of the very essence of you. Her lips traced over your skin with reverence, as if she were discovering a hidden galaxy, a universe of sensations that she had longed to experience.

Her hands cradled your breasts with an almost worshipful tenderness, as if they were celestial treasures—each touch a silent declaration of her adoration. She took her time, savouring every moment, her fingertips dancing over you with a care that spoke volumes about her feelings. It was as if she were tracing constellations across your skin, mapping out a universe that was uniquely hers and yours.

The contrast between her reverent touch and the raw urgency of the moment made the scene even more intense. She pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes filled with an earnest plea. Her breath was warm against your skin, her gaze pleading as she waited for you to continue.

With a deep breath, you let your hands explore her body with the same reverence she had shown you. You carefully lifted the dress higher, revealing the soft curve of her skin, the blush of her cheeks, the way her breath hitched with every movement. Natasha's kisses became more fervent, her hands clutching you as if you were the only anchor in a vast sea of emotion.

In that intimate space, it was just the two of you—an entire universe wrapped up in the simple act of undressing. The room, the world outside, all faded away, leaving only the connection between your bodies and the boundless emotions that swirled between you.

Natasha’s fingers curled into your hair, a sharp tug that made your breath catch. Her lips hovered near your ear, her voice barely holding steady. “Please,” she whispered, her words shaky, pleading. “Please, make me feel good. I need this. I need you.”

This wasn’t like her. Natasha, your composed and meticulous physics professor, who always had control of her classroom, now looked so vulnerable. She wasn’t supposed to be this undone. Everything about her, the way she carried herself—polished, thoughtful, deliberate—was now unravelling. And yet, once again, she didn’t care.

Her forehead pressed against yours, her grip tightening in your hair. Her breathing was laboured, and the words that escaped her lips were soaked in desperation. “I just… I want to be enough for you,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I want you to want me, to be proud of me.”

This wasn’t the confident professor you’d come to know. Natasha, so careful and in control of everything in her life, was now asking, begging for reassurance. It wasn’t just about desire—it was about being wanted, being worth the risk. She was scared, terrified even, that you wouldn’t see her the same way she saw you. That maybe this was something fleeting for you, something you could walk away from while she’d lose everything.

Her grip on you tightened. The way she repeated “please” over and over made your heart ache. She was so scared of not being enough, of not measuring up to whatever pedestal she thought you had put her on. And deep down, you knew she didn’t need to worry. You would choose her over anything.

Gently, you cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tear that slipped from her eye. “You’re already more than enough, Natasha. I would risk everything for you. You know that.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into your touch, her breathing hitching. It was as though your words had unlocked something fragile inside her, something she had been holding onto for far too long. For the first time, you could see the weight of the fear and uncertainty she’d carried, the fear that she wasn’t worthy of this.

“Please,” she whispered again, this time softer, her voice trembling. “Please, make me yours. I need to feel like I’m enough for you.”

Her hands slid down your back, her touch tentative, hesitant, like she was unsure whether she deserved this moment. But she did. She deserved it more than anyone else.

In that instant, you could feel the depth of her need, her longing not just for physical connection but for the reassurance that she was enough, that she didn’t have to be perfect or in control to be loved by you. She wanted to let go, to give herself fully, and she needed you to guide her there.

Her vulnerability was raw and real, and in this moment, she was yours completely—stripped bare emotionally, more open than she had ever been. You knew then that you had her trust, her heart.

Natasha should have been nervous about where she was, the risks it posed to both of you, but instead, she felt enveloped in a warmth that only you could give her. The building was empty, but even if it wasn’t, she didn’t care.

Guided by Natasha’s hands, you slowly sank to your knees, the weight of the moment thick in the air between you. Your eyes stayed locked on hers, searching for any sign that she might want to stop, that this was too much, too fast. But all you saw was trust—raw, vulnerable trust, like she was giving you a part of herself no one else had ever seen.

The vulnerability in her eyes only heightened your need to make sure she felt safe, to reaffirm that she had control even as she was letting go. Your hands reached for the hem of her dress—the sleek, black number she had worn that night in class, the same one she wore when she looked untouchable, unshakable. You hiked it up slowly, deliberately, the fabric slipping through your fingers like silk, revealing more of her bare skin.

Natasha’s breath hitched as you ran your hands up her thighs, feeling the heat radiating from her body. You could feel the tension in her muscles, the way her legs trembled slightly under your touch, not just from desire but from the emotional weight of what was happening between you. She wanted this, but more than that, she needed this—to be seen, to be wanted, to be adored, stripped of all the defences she’d spent so long building up.

You pressed a soft kiss against her thigh, your fingers tracing patterns up and down her skin, feeling her shudder beneath you. With each touch, each kiss, you could feel her letting go a little more, surrendering herself to the moment, to you. Her hands threaded through your hair again, but this time the tug wasn’t urgent—it was grounding, a silent request for reassurance, for connection.

Looking up at her, you whispered, "Are you okay with this, Natasha?" The question lingered in the air, but it was necessary, and you wouldn’t move forward without hearing her answer.

Her gaze met yours, her eyes softened by the vulnerability she was allowing herself to feel. She nodded, her lips parting as she whispered back, "Yes. I’m okay. I want this... I want you."

Your heart swelled at her words, at the trust she was placing in you.

You pressed gentle kisses against Natasha’s thighs, each one slower, more deliberate than the last. Her skin was warm under your lips, and the slight tremor in her legs didn’t go unnoticed. You were attuned to every detail—her breathing, the way her fingers tightened and loosened in your hair, the soft, barely audible sounds that escaped her lips as you kissed your way higher.

Despite the growing ache between your own legs, a steady pulse of need that had been building from the moment you had locked eyes, you focused on her. This wasn’t just about desire. It was about trust, about showing her that this—what was happening between you—wasn't just a fleeting moment. You wanted her to feel worthy, to feel adored and cared for, not like she was some fleeting impulse or a fantasy you would walk away from once it was over.

You wanted her to know that you weren’t going anywhere.

Your lips moved higher, brushing just above her knees, and then along the sensitive skin at the top of her thighs. You could hear her breath hitch as you got closer to her core, the anticipation tightening in the air. You paused, pressing a soft kiss just above her panties, teasing but gentle, taking your time to savour the moment, making sure Natasha knew you were fully present for her.

Your hands slid around to the back of her thighs, gripping softly as you kissed her through the delicate fabric of her panties. The sound she made—half a sigh, half a moan—tugged at your heart, and you pressed harder, letting your tongue trace the dampness growing against the lace.

Natasha’s fingers gripped your hair more firmly, a silent plea for more, but you stayed steady, slow, ensuring that every touch was careful, deliberate. She needed to feel safe, to feel cherished, before you let your own needs take over. You wanted to show her that this wasn’t just physical—it was so much more.

As your hands gently tugged the waistband of her panties down, Natasha's breath came in shallow bursts. You kissed her hips, then her pelvis, before finally brushing your lips against her core. She gasped, and her legs instinctively parted wider to give you more room. The heat between her legs was intoxicating, but you didn’t rush.

With a slow, careful movement, you licked her, softly at first, feeling her body react to the touch. Her hips shifted, seeking more, but you kept your pace tender and intentional. Your tongue explored her slowly, taking in the taste of her, feeling the way her body responded to you—her quiet gasps, the way her fingers tightened their hold in your hair, her thighs trembling slightly under your hands.

Despite your own body screaming for release, you didn’t let that overpower the moment. This was for Natasha. You wanted her to feel good, to feel everything she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for so long. You wanted her to understand that she could trust you with this—trust you with herself.

You focused on every sound she made, adjusting your movements based on the way her body responded. When her breath hitched, you applied more pressure, your tongue flicking against her more insistently, but still not rushing. You could feel her unravelling beneath you, the tension in her body slowly giving way to pleasure.

Her legs wrapped tighter around your head, pulling you closer, and you didn’t resist. The sensation of her pressed against your mouth, her need so palpable, only fueled your determination to make her feel good. Her breaths were becoming more erratic, the moans she was trying to suppress growing louder.

"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible above the sound of her own gasps. "Please… don’t stop."

You didn’t. You let yourself go deeper, licking and sucking at her, increasing the intensity as her hips began to move in rhythm with you. Her fingers were tugging harder at your hair now, a frantic edge to her movements, but you didn’t let go of the tenderness. Even as the intensity built, you wanted her to feel how much this meant—to both of you. That you weren’t going to turn away or leave her.

Natasha’s breathing was ragged now, her body tightening with the approach of her climax, and you could feel her surrendering fully to the moment, to you. And that—knowing she trusted you enough to let go completely—was more satisfying than anything else.

With one last flick of your tongue, Natasha’s body tensed, and she cried out softly, her thighs trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her. You didn’t pull away immediately, continuing to kiss and soothe her through her release, letting her ride out every last tremor.

When her body finally relaxed, her breathing still uneven, you pressed a gentle kiss against her thigh before looking up at her. Natasha’s eyes were glazed, her expression softened by exhaustion and satisfaction. You reached up, taking her hands in yours again, squeezing them gently to remind her—this was real, and you were still here.

"You okay?" you whispered, your voice soft, filled with the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a small, tired smile, her fingers still tangled in your hair. "Yeah," she whispered back, her voice shaky but content. "I’m more than okay."

She glanced down at you, still kneeling before her, and her face flushed red. Her heart raced, not from fear, but from a sense of vulnerability she’d never allowed herself to feel before. Her eyes roamed over your body, lingering on the curve of your jaw, the softness in your gaze. That contrast—the way you held all the control yet treated her with such care—it was intoxicating. She bit her lip, her chest swelling with emotions she didn’t quite know how to express. For the first time, she felt seen, cherished, and safe, even in a situation that should have felt anything but.

A small smirk tugged at her lips as she gently pressed her palm against the bulge in your boxers. Your reaction was immediate—your body tensed slightly, a soft groan escaping your lips as the wet patch of precum dampened her hand. She rubbed you a little harder, enjoying the way your breath hitched with each motion. The control was shifting, and she revelled in it, taking her time as she palmed you through the thin fabric.

Your hips bucked slightly in response, the pleasure building quickly, but just as you felt yourself nearing the edge, Natasha pulled her hand away. A quiet, frustrated groan left your throat, but there was no impatience in your eyes. You stayed gentle, your hand reaching up to tangle in her hair, tugging softly as you guided her downward.

Natasha’s body complied, and she sank to her knees, her eyes flickering up to meet yours as she settled between your legs. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of your boxers, pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion, exposing your hardened length. Her hand wrapped

around you, the warmth of her touch sending a shiver down your spine. She started slow, her strokes gentle but firm, building up the tension with a skilled precision that made your knees weak.

Each pump of her hand was designed to drive you higher, her touch alternating between feather-light and tight enough to have you gasping. You could see the small smirk still lingering on her lips, the way her cheeks flushed with a deep crimson, and it only fueled the fire inside you.

Her hand moved faster, and you gritted your teeth, trying to hold back the inevitable release, but it was too much. Natasha had you right where she wanted you, and she knew it. The pressure built inside you like a dam about to break, and just as the wave crested, you tugged her hair a little harder, pulling her face closer to your body as you came.

Your release spilled over her face, thick and hot, streaking her cheeks and lips like stars spreading across a midnight sky. It was a mess, but in the mess, there was beauty—something raw, visceral. The universe had always been a chaotic, unpredictable expanse, but in that moment, Natasha wore it on her skin. She was your universe, painted in a way that symbolised everything wild and untamed that existed between you.

Her breaths were heavy, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt the warmth of you settle on her skin. There was a softness in her expression, even as she wiped the edge of her mouth with the back of her hand. And you…you stood there, still panting, gazing down at her with a reverence that went beyond the physical. She had laid herself bare, given herself fully to you, and in return, you had shared something far deeper than lust.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. She smiled, a mixture of mischief and something tender playing across her lips as she wiped a bit more from her cheek, still blushing. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation in her gaze—just the raw, undeniable connection between you both, as unshakable as the stars scattered across a vast sky.

Natasha's hand wrapped around your still half-erect shaft, her touch soft but purposeful as she began to pump you once again. The sensation shot through you, making you groan, the sound deep and raw in your throat. Your fingers, which had been gripping her hair tightly, loosened their hold, trailing down to softly cradle her cheeks. Her skin was warm beneath your palms, her flushed face a stark contrast to the cool air in the room.

She looked up at you, a playful, mischievous glint in her eyes, as if daring you to see how much further she could take you. With your hands still holding her face, her lips parted, and she opened her mouth, slowly taking you in. The sensation of her mouth wrapping around you, warm and wet, was like being pulled into the gravity of a star, the intensity almost overwhelming.

Natasha’s mouth moved with deliberate slowness, her tongue pressing flat against you as she took more of you in, inch by inch. You could feel every flicker of her tongue, every slight shift in pressure as her mouth tightened around you, pulling you deeper into her orbit. Her hands gripped your thighs, steadying herself as she hollowed her cheeks, the heat of her breath seeping into your skin, warming you from the inside out.

It was like being caught between two worlds—one of gentleness, where her every touch was soft and careful, and another of fire, where the raw need she had for you crackled with intensity. You felt it in the way she moved, in the way her lips wrapped around you with precision, and in the quiet hunger that radiated from her. It wasn’t just about lust anymore—it was about trust, about the connection that had been building between the two of you for so long, and now, like the universe itself, it was expanding, becoming something deeper, something untouchable.

Each slow, purposeful motion of her mouth sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You couldn’t help but groan again, your breath hitching as you felt the pressure building once more. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, the heat in them undeniable, as if she was silently communicating her own need to make you feel just as exposed, just as vulnerable as she had felt moments before.

The room around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, suspended in this moment—her mouth on you, your hands gently holding her face, and the sensation that seemed to stretch out into eternity.

Natasha began to take you deeper, her movements growing more deliberate and intense as her mouth slid down your length. The wet warmth of her lips surrounded you, and you couldn’t hold back the deep, guttural groan that escaped from your chest. Each time she lowered her head, the sensation grew sharper, her tongue flicking and teasing, heightening your arousal with every motion.

As she pushed herself further down, a sudden gag escaped her, the tightness around you momentarily breaking your control. Instinctively, your hands gripped her head, your hips bucking forward, pressing her down harder onto your cock. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her throat constricting as she tried to adjust to your deeper thrusts, her own need and willingness written on her expression. The way she surrendered to your touch, her hands clutching your thighs, sent a jolt of raw desire through you, and you couldn’t stop your hips from moving on their own.

You released inside her mouth with a powerful groan, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Natasha stayed still, her mouth still wrapped around you, catching every drop. Your mind swam in the aftermath, the weight of the moment heavy around you, pulling you back to reality. As your eyes finally cleared, you saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, her lips still wrapped around your sensitive cock as she continued to suck, more tenderly now.

For a moment, worry flared in your chest, but she hummed softly around you, her hands gently caressing your legs, letting you know she was okay. It wasn’t pain—it was something else entirely. Her soft, rhythmic movements, the gentle suction, and the sound of her contentment vibrated through you. The tears weren't ones of discomfort, but something deeper—relief, happiness, a kind of release that matched the intensity of what you both had shared.

You ran your fingers through her hair, murmuring softly to her, "Are you okay? You're safe, Natasha." She hummed again, reassuring you with the vibrations from her throat, her lips curving ever so slightly against your skin, a sign of her quiet joy.

But then, you felt it again—that mischievous glint flashing in her eyes as she gave one more sharp suck, her tongue swirling expertly around your sensitive tip, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation. The sudden intensity made you gasp, and before you could recover, she pulled back, a thin string of saliva and your release still connecting her lips to your cock. The playful smirk tugged at her lips as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, her breath heavy, her eyes dancing with both satisfaction and hunger.

Then, with a delicate, almost bashful movement, Natasha turned around, leaning forward over the desk. Her dress clung to her curves, the hem still hiked up, and she bent over just enough to leave no question about what she wanted. She looked over her shoulder at you, her expression shifting from tentative sweetness to something more daring, though still tinged with a vulnerability that tugged at your heart. Her eyes, though, betrayed her—the sheer need burning there, her desire clear as day.

With a small smile that could only be described as cute, she spoke without words, her body doing the asking. There was an unspoken invitation in her posture, and despite the vulnerability she showed, there was also a trust between you now that felt unbreakable.

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached Natasha, your hands sliding over her soft backside before trailing up her back, fingers ghosting over the fabric of her dress. The way she trembled beneath your touch, her body so attuned to your movements, made your heart race. As you moved closer, your hand brushed over the slick coating her inner thighs, and it told you everything you needed to know—she was ready, aching for you.

With slow, deliberate care, you guided yourself to her entrance, gently pushing inside. Natasha let out a sharp gasp, her body welcoming you with almost no resistance, her slick warmth enveloping you. Her walls fluttered and clenched around you, adjusting to your length and girth, pulling you in deeper with every inch. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect balance of tightness and softness, and you could feel her heartbeat in sync with yours, every pulse of her body crying out for more.

As you buried yourself inside her, Natasha’s moans grew louder, unrestrained, filling the quiet classroom with sounds that felt like music to your ears. Her usual control had vanished, leaving her raw and exposed, her voice trembling with need as she called out your name. Each thrust, slow but firm, drew a new sound from her lips, her body arching beneath you as she struggled to hold onto the desk for support.

The way she moaned for you now, louder, uninhibited, sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t just the pleasure that drove her—it was the trust, the connection, the vulnerability she had offered you in this moment. You leaned down, your breath hot against her ear as you whispered softly, "You sound so beautiful, Natasha."

Her only response was a broken, desperate moan, her head dropping forward as you moved within her. The walls of the room seemed to close in, making the world smaller, more intimate, as if it was only the two of you and the sensation that swirled between you. Each thrust seemed to melt away another layer of resistance, and Natasha met you with every movement, her hips rocking back to match your rhythm, her moans growing more frenzied as the intensity built.

Her body was a symphony of sensations, her sounds, her movements, the way she clenched around you driving you to the brink of your own control. Still, you remained gentle, each motion filled with purpose, ensuring she felt every bit of the love, trust, and pleasure you wanted to give her.

“Harder, please… more,” Natasha’s voice came out in a breathless plea, her desperation cutting through the heavy air. The need in her tone left no doubt in your mind; she wanted you to let go, to give her everything. You smiled softly, your slow and deliberate thrusts transitioning into something rougher, more intense.

Each movement brought a new sound from her lips—a mix of moans, gasps, and whimpers that drove you to the edge of control. You could feel her body tightening around you, the slick warmth of her drawing you deeper, her hips pressing back in perfect rhythm with each thrust. Her hands gripped the desk hard enough to turn her knuckles white, as if she needed to hold onto something solid amidst the storm of pleasure crashing through her.

You gave her what she wanted, your pace picking up, the gentle strokes turning into something rougher. Each thrust was harder, your hips slamming into hers as the intensity between you mounted. The sounds coming from between your bodies—skin meeting skin, the wetness of her arousal—filled the room, combining with her increasingly frantic moans. Every whimper, every desperate noise that fell from her lips only pushed you to move faster, harder, deeper.

Natasha’s voice was growing ragged, her pleas becoming a chant, “More… harder… please,” her tone dripping with need. You obliged, giving her everything she asked for, pounding into her with abandon. Her walls clenched tighter around you with each thrust, her body trembling as she neared the edge, her moans becoming louder, more frantic.

The sight of her—the way her body surrendered beneath you, the sounds of her pleasure—was driving you wild. You could feel yourself nearing your own breaking point, but this moment wasn’t just about you. It was about her, about making her feel as desired, as safe, and as loved as she deserved.

Natasha’s body bucked against you, her voice rising with each thrust, her moans spilling into the air like a symphony of raw emotion. The intensity of it all, the connection, the overwhelming pleasure, it was almost too much, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.

You didn’t stop even as Natasha’s body quaked beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave, every nerve ending igniting in pure ecstasy. With a firm grip on her hair, you pulled back gently, a primal instinct guiding your actions. The sharp gasp that escaped her lips sent a thrill coursing through you, an electric reminder of the connection you shared. Tears streamed down her cheeks, reflections of the intensity of her pleasure, and the sight of her vulnerability only stoked the fire deep within you.

“Please… don’t stop,” she breathed, her voice trembling with desperation and longing. “I need you—everything.”

You felt her walls tighten around you, each clench pulling you deeper into the bliss of the moment. Every thrust became more urgent, more fervent, as you moved in perfect sync with her. Her hips met yours in a relentless rhythm, the sounds of your bodies colliding filling the air—a raw symphony of skin against skin, punctuated by her soft cries and your deep, primal grunts.

“Stay inside me,” she gasped, urgency lacing her tone like a sweet poison. “I want to feel you.”

Obeying her plea, you surrendered to the pressure that had built within you, a wave of heat surging as your release burst forth, filling her completely. The sensation was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and possession that pushed Natasha over the edge once more. You felt her body tremble as she milked you dry, every pulse and contraction sending shockwaves through both of you. The warmth of your climax mingled with hers, slick and overwhelming, trickling down to the back of her thighs and pooling against your own.

As your bodies connected in this beautiful aftermath, you slowed your movements, wanting to savour every moment. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, entwined in an intimate cocoon of warmth and intimacy. Her breath came in soft, ragged gasps, and you could see the remnants of pleasure flickering in her eyes, a mix of satisfaction and lingering desire.

You shifted your hands from her hair, cradling her waist, grounding her as the waves of pleasure began to recede. With each slow thrust, you relished the way she responded, her body trembling beneath you, as if she was still lost in the echoes of her release. You leaned down, brushing your lips softly against her forehead, whispering sweet reassurances that enveloped her like a gentle embrace.

“Natasha…” you murmured, your voice low and filled with admiration. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, a shy smile breaking through the haze of bliss.

She looked up at you, her gaze filled with warmth and something deeper, a connection that transcended the physical. “I never knew it could be like this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it resonated with profound sincerity.

In that moment, you knew that this wasn’t just about desire; it was about trust, intimacy, and a bond that felt unbreakable. You both lay there, intertwined, sharing the warmth of your bodies and the lingering aftermath of your shared ecstasy, each heartbeat echoing the promise of what was still to come.

As the world slowly came back into focus around you, you could feel Natasha’s breath steadying, a calm settling over both of you. You caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears of pleasure, feeling an overwhelming sense of tenderness for the woman before you. With each soft kiss and gentle touch, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautifully complicated.

a/n- whew, that was a ride. thank you so much for your request, anon, i loved writing it, and although i suppose it isn't exactly what you had in mind, i hope you still liked it! for all of you who keep supporting me as i slowly figure out how to use this platform again, thank you so much. all reblogs and comments are appreciated! the love on my last fic had me overwhelmed x

[stayevildarling]

I adore your writing!! If you take requests, could I request the following for female reader x Wanda x Natasha. Where Natasha and Wanda have been in love with reader for the longest time and absolutely but secretly hate the fact she is in a relationship with someone. Unbeknownst to them, the relationship is toxic and reader suffers but doesn't say anything until maybe one day on a mission they find out? I adore your mental health fics. maybe bit of everything? angst/fluff/smut???? tysm

Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff x Reader- Good Luck, Babe

A/N: First of all I want to thank you dear anon for this request. I'm a sucker for fics like this. Secondly, I apologise for other projects on hold like ,,Fragments of us'' Part two. Right now, I don't have a lot of motivation or time to write but this intrigued me. Title inspired by the song ,,Good Luck, Babe!'' by Chappell Roan.

tw/tags: female reader, established relationship Wanda + Natasha, mention of abusive partner, mention of physical abuse, mention of verbal + emotional abuse, mention of bruises/cuts, mention of violence, cursing, mention of poly relationship, angry wandanat, slight nsfw mentions

word count: 10k (I apologize for my previous post regarding this, my draft messed up and I ended up counting the fic twice)

translation: detka= baby, malishka= baby girl

taglist: (if you want to be added comment/sent an ask or dm)

@lunaticwhittaker, @billiebeanhoward, @lanawinters-ily, @kenzbro, @minaslittleone, @httpfiftyshadesofgay, @whitelotus00, @ninaahs, @vintagepaulson, @isle-of-earle, @paulsonsratched, @stepintomyworld, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @lucyintheskywithxanax, @fanfics4world, @mymiraclewitch, @hazard-to-myself, @awritersometime, @ohrwurm26, @wastdstime, @p1pecleanerwitheyes

The Avengers compound had been unusually quiet this morning, the rain tapping gently against the large windows, creating a soothing rhythm that contrasts with the usual hustle. Outside said large windows, the world is wrapped in a soft haze, the greenery of the compound blurred by the pouring rain. The air inside feels cooler this morning, causing Natasha to shiver slightly, before the scent mixes with the faint aroma of coffee.

In the meantime, Wanda stands by the stove in the kitchen, her movements flowing freely as she prepares breakfast. The soft clinking of utensils, one of the few sounds breaking the silence. Usually, mornings after Tony's birthday parties would be filled with the sounds of laughter, groans from those suffering from hangovers and the general buzzing from the team slowly coming back to life. However, today it was different. Natasha sits at the kitchen island, a steaming cup of coffee in her hands.

Her green eyes fixed on the rain outside, lost in her thoughts. Her posture is tense, shoulders slightly hunched and her usual confident demeanour seemingly distant. Even her hair, still damp from the shower she had, falls in loose waves around her face. Wanda, ever the observant girlfriend, notices of course. Having noticed, as soon as she found Natasha this morning, sitting absentmindedly on the sofa of their shared apartment within the compound, before she headed for a shower, barely any words exchanged yet.

Usually, the two of them had a different routine on mornings like this with no mission to prepare for. Natasha would shower first and then Wanda would join her in the kitchen, where Natasha would tease her about her cooking and baking, despite loving it deeply. But today, there was no teasing, no light conversation, no glances filled with love, no warm arms wrapping around the redheads. Just silence and the occassional sounds of rain and clattering from Wanda's cooking.

As the Scarlet Witch flips a pancake, she glances over at Natasha again, her concern deepening with each moment passing. The redhead's face is a careful mask, but Wanda could sense the tension beneath it, her magic not needed as her love for the Black Widow was enough as she had been with her for years and knew her better than anyone. Natasha's fingers tap rhythmically on the side of her mug of coffee, a rare sign of agitation.

Setting down the spatula, Wanda moves closer as her elbows rest on the kitchen counter, her eyes observing Natasha a little closer. ,,Are you okay darling?'' she asks softly, her voice cutting through the silence.

In response she blinks, as if coming out of a daze, looking at her girlfriend. For a moment she seems conflicted, ready to flash one of her practiced smiles and assure her girlfriend that she is absolutely fine and just thinking about a mission or what to do at the gym later. But then she sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. ,,I don't know'' she admits, her voice unusually soft and small. She looks back at the window, the grey reflecting in her eyes. ,,Just thinking'' she acknowledges, her walls right where they usually would be, before Wanda would break through them gently.

,,Are you thinking about last night by chance?'' Wanda whispers, reaching out to place her hand on Natasha's arm in a comforting manner. The redheads head snaps towards her partner, both feeling caught and at the same time wondering how Wanda would have known. ,,How-?'' she snaps a little, worried that maybe the witch had used her powers on her girlfriend as reading minds certainly was one of them. If she was thinking straight, the avenger would know that Wanda would never do that, respecting Natasha's privacy always and rather giving her time and space rather than using her magic to force any truths out of her partner.

,,Detka, I know you'' she assures, her eyes searching her girlfriends. Natasha sighs, feeling bad for even thinking that Wanda would have invaded her thoughts like that and at the same time sighing, knowing she would have some explaining to do. ,,This is about Y/N, isn't it love?'' Wanda asks softly, using her magic to turn off the stove as the pancakes were done at this point and wanting to stay close to her girlfriend in order to comfort whatever was troubling her mind. Natasha sighs, as Wanda as usually had figured out exactly what was troubling her and indeed it had been you.

The relationship between the two of them and you had always been a little strange. Natasha and Yelena rescuing you and your memories years ago from the red room and the people having done the same horrible things to you than the Russian and her sister. They took you in, introducing you to the avengers as you really had no home, no family, yet your skills had been impressive. And quickly, the avengers had become your home, giving you shelter at the compound to get back on your feet, Yelena quickly becoming one of your best friends and Natasha equally close to you, wanting to save the last bit of your soul as she had instantly felt something, as soon as laying eyes upon you for the first time, you had been different and she could tell, even back then.

At the time, both Natasha and Wanda had more of a fling, hands always lingering somewhere on each other, glances shared in meetings, secret meetings and hook ups at night as they couldn't quite keep their hands away from each other. Both of them took you under their wing, helping you train some younger recruits in order to give you something to do, support you emotionally, making sure you could thrive again after suffering abuse and torture for several years. And you blossomed in a way that Tony and the others quickly realised you could be an asset to them, offering to send you on your first mission. And at that time both Wanda and Natasha had grown so close to you that they objected, not liking the thought of you in danger again and worrying about your health and mental state and how the mission may affect you.

In the end they insisted on accompanying you and watched in awe as you succeeded with your first mission, thriving with each day along the avengers. The three of you quickly become the golden trio, always seen together, either in the gym with Natasha, working out while blasting some music, the redhead teasing you for your right hook. Often seen with Wanda as she showed you some of her magic as it had you in awe. The three of you grew closer than the two of them ever had been before and over months their feelings for you grew. Natasha and Wanda pretty much realised at the same time, confiding in each other as they didn't want to ruin what they already had. When the same words spilled from their lips they couldn't help but laugh but the laughter quickly subsided as one of the recruits who you had been training often, seemed to have captured your heart.

They didn't notice the lingering glances, the gestures from her as she showered you in flowers, affection and gifts. As they had been too caught in their own feelings and how they could ever propose this idea to you, despite feeling pretty sure that you felt the same way, having seen your blushing whenever around them and the way you squirmed whenever their hands lingered on you somewhere or the pet names they had reserved for you specifically, flowed so freely from their mouths. It hit them hard when they found about you and Lucy, each of them handling the news in their own ways. Natasha made sure to background check her properly, using all of her spy skills, even searching her room one day, wanting to make sure she would treat you right. Wanda accepted it, your happiness her main priority and wanting to comfort Natasha in the process.

In the end that's how the two of them finally grew closer and closed the last gaps of privacy, making their fling more official and confessing their feelings. Ever since then, they had been the power couple of the Avengers. The two mothers as the others would often call them as they made sure to look after the others, often providing them with food after missions or advice and always a listening ear or Wanda's magic nearby whenever anyone needed it. But despite the months passing, slowly even a year of your relationship with Lucy approaching, they still hadn't forgotten about you and their feelings certainly never subsided. They respected your relationship of course and the fact you couldn't spent as much time as before but they always made sure to fit some conversation or at least one pizza or move night into a week, wanting to make sure you are well taken care of and they could still have you around.

,,Yeah'' Natasha admits, stopping her daydreaming about you, before she reminisces about the previous night and how Lucy had been all over you, dragging you onto the dance floor when you clearly looked tired after the previous mission. How you often wanted to come over and chat with them but she dragged you into another corner, crashing her lips onto you, making Natasha almost rage in jealousy and wanting nothing more than to pry you away from her. Natasha had been worried, whether this relationship was truly making you happy as you had never mentioned Lucy to them before and how they found out through Thor and some of the other guys chatting back then. How they often found you alone when Lucy was out with some of the other recruits from her missions and team, leaving you alone as they went clubbing and drinking, Natasha inspecting Lucy's social media closely. How she never seemed to post photos of you, never showing you off the way she certainly would. How she hadn't showered you in gifts for ages, something Natasha would certainly also do as you deserved flowers every single day if it was up to the Russian.

,,Don't you think it's time to let that go darling?'' Wanda asks softly, knowing her lover had struggled for almost a year with her feelings and the jealousy so evident on the Black Widows features whenever the two of you are around. Of course the Scarlet witch hated it equally, ultimately agreeing that her and Natasha could certainly treat you better but you seem happy and your happiness is all that matters to the redhead. ,,I know I should but-'' the redhead hesitates then, not knowing how to finish that sentence as her feelings both confused and overwhelmed her at the same time. ,,I just have this feeling that she's not happy that.. we could have-'' she begins but Wanda cuts her off, finishing her sentence. ,,Could have treated her better?''. Natasha nods, sighing again as her shoulders slump further, Wanda smiling sadly at her partner and hating how much this was hurting her.

,,Am I not enough for you?'' Wanda suddenly questions, completely catching Natasha off guard as she sits up straight, her face almost crumbling at the question. ,,Darling'' she sighs, feeling bad instantly before noticing the slight smirk on her partners face. ,,You're perfect detka'' she reassures, kissing the tip of her nose. ,,How about you show me just how enough I am for you'' Wanda teases, knowing she couldn't fix this and some distracting was in order. ,,Certainly but pancakes after?'' Natasha smiles before lifting up her partner, Wanda's legs wrapping around her as she carries her to the bedroom, the witch giggling on her way over as Natasha plants kisses along her neck. Wanda nods through her hitched breathing.

----

Today had been another slow day, the rain had woken you a while ago, as well as a pounding headache, causing you to groan as soon as you tried to open your eyes but failed due to the pounding pain. Somehow, you managed to stumble your way into the kitchen of your shared room with Lucy, reaching for some water and painkillers before sitting in silence for what seemed like hours until the headache was bearable enough to move again. Last night seemed a blur, the only memory left the fact it was Tony's birthday and at some point remembering his speech but then everything blurred. As you glance at your phone, you realise the upcoming meeting for the mission tomorrow in the afternoon and you knew you should get some exercise in at some point as you skipped yesterday due to the party and helping Pepper with the preparations.

After throwing on some leggings and an oversized hoodie, you grab some Gatorade from the fridge and make your way over to the gym, sincerly hoping that no one would be in there as you certainly didn't feel like conversation today. You didn't feel right today, besides from the headache and you really couldn't tell what was wrong, feeling both dizzy and fatigued and as if someone had repeatedly beat you with Thor's hammer. You sigh in relief finding the gym empty, putting on your headphones and blasting some music before starting on some cardio, knowing the upcoming mission would probably include some running, wanting to do some weights afterwards before showering and getting ready for the meeting in the afternoon. The rain continues pattering as your thoughts are blended out by the sound of music and focusing on your training, wanting to be fit and ready for tomorrow.

In your daze you never realised Wanda and Natasha entering about an hour later, watching you with amused smirks, as they watch you from behind lifting some weights, not having seen your features but recognising that oversized hoodie from anywhere as Natasha had given it to you after you came home with them, barely any clothes with you and how you had kept it since. They had tried to greet you but the music from your headphones had been so loud that they could hear it from the other side of the room and Wanda took a mental note of the songs, how they were so slow and sad, unlike the usual things you would listen to, wanting to adress that at some point. It's not until you take your headphones off, having finished your workout for today, grabbing the bottle and almost chugging it, suddenly feeling the same fatigue and dizziness again, when you notice their presence.

,,Hi detka'' Natasha and Wanda greet you with bright smiles and you breathe a second before turning around with a smile. Instantly their smiles drop slightly as they notice how pale you are. ,,Are you alright, sweetheart?'' Wanda asks concerned, walking over to get a better look at you. ,,Fine, just tired Wands'' you reassure but that certainly wasn't enough for the redhead witch, as she approaches you, cupping your cheeks and checking for any sign of a temperature. ,,Wanda I just worked out, I'm fine'' you reassure and Natasha can't help but giggle at your antics. ,,Stubborn just like me'' she huffs before grabbing some weights and beginning her own workout. ,,How have you been darling? we haven't seen you much lately'' Wanda asks as her eyes search yours. She instantly notices the hesitation before you speak and the concern is evident in her orbs. ,,I've been good, just busy with missions you know'' you assure and she nods, knowing you had been sent on plenty of them lately.

,,If you ever need us to tell Tony to back off a little, you know where to find us'' Natasha offers with a wink but you know she means every word as they always took care of your needs. For a moment your brave smile fades as your reality catches up with you and you have to fight the tears away, and they notice of course but before either of them can speak, the three of you are interrupted as a presence stops by the door. ,,Y/N, you coming?'' Lucy asks and you smile before reaching for your things ,,Of course'' you nod, smiling at both Wanda and Natasha before following your girlfriend. ,,Bye guys'' you part them with almost a sad smile as Lucy reaches for your hand, dragging you away from them. The two of them remain quiet, Natasha drowning her raging jealousy in her workout and Wanda lost deeply in her thoughts as today she had for the first time seen what Natasha had mentioned, the sadness in your eyes, the feeling that something wasn't quite right, despite her not being able to point it out exactly.

As the elevator doors close, Lucy's grip tightens on your hand. "I told you I don't like them," she hisses. You roll your eyes inwardly, too tired to argue. The familiar ache in your head and the exhaustion in your bones keep you silent, dreading the confrontation that awaited in your room.

Your relationship with Lucy had started beautifully. She'd been sweet and caring, helping you through nightmares, showering you with affection, and making you forget the Red Room's horrors. But then things changed—her patience waned, arguments became frequent, and eventually, she became physical with you. You blamed her stress, even yourself, for provoking her.

Now, you just endured it. You had become an expert at hiding the bruises, adjusting your uniform to conceal them. The shame of being an Avenger, unable to stand up to your girlfriend, weighed heavily on you. You longed for someone who treated you kindly, like Wanda and Natasha. But you believed you had missed your chance with them, seeing them so happy together. Lucy had convinced you that no one else would want you, and you believed it, accepting your fate.

And you had been exceptional at hiding your true feelings, the lonely nights when Lucy went out partying, the nights after arguments, covering your body in order for no one to see. And so you carried on each day, your head held high as if nothing happened, carrying on with your duties and your life, accepting your ultimate fate as you had a play in it surely.

At the meeting that afternoon, you entered the briefing room feeling every bruise and ache Lucy had left on you. Last night had been particularly rough, and her anger had found its usual target you. Despite your best efforts to hide the signs, you felt utterly drained, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Your goal was simple to get through the meeting without drawing attention.

As you take a seat, you immediately notice both Wanda and Natasha watching you from across the room. You tried to muster a convincing smile but somehow the exhaustion must show. Natasha's eyes narrow slightly, Wanda's brow furrowed in concern. They exchange a glance, clearly picking up that something was off and bothering you. Throughout the meeting, you could feel their eyes on you while Tony was going on about mission details but somehow you struggled to focus. ,,You're nothing, worthless'' the words of Lucy replay in your mind. You nod along, taking notes almost mechanically, just trying to keep up your apperance. It's when Tony asks for your input on a tactical point, there is a pause as you realize you really hadn't been listenting the way you should have.

,,Y/N?'' Tony prompts and thats when you snap back to the present, stammering a response that you hope was good enough to answer his question. Wanda's eyes are practically boring into you, her concern deepening by the minute as she senses your unease. After the meeting finishes, you hurry and gather your things, hoping to slip away before anyone could corner you. But Natasha was quicker of course, intercepting you at the door.

,,Hey, you alright?'' she asks, her voice casual but her eyes serious. All you can do is nod, forcing a smile. ,,Yeah, just tired'' you say, hating how weak your voice sounds right now. Natasha doesn't seem convinced, but she doesn't press the subject further, just nodding slowly.

Wanda, however had always been more direct. As you step into the hallway, she catches up with you, her expression filled with concern. ,,Can we talk?'' she asks, her tone gentle but insistent. You sigh, feeling cornered but too exhausted to resist. ,,Sure'' you mutter, following them both to a quieter area. Natasha joins, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

,,Y/N darling'' she begins, the sound of her voice causing your heart to swell. ,,You don't seem like yourself. What's going on?'' she asks softly. You hesitate, your instinct to hide the truth clashing with the need of finally letting someone in. Natasha's gaze is boring right into you, making it clear they are serious about this and not about to let this slide.

,,It's nothing, I'm just tired and.. had a long night'' you admit weakly, avoiding their eyes. Wanda's hand reaches out, gently touching your arm. It takes every last bit of you not to flinch, not having felt their gentle hands in so long and the gesture almost causing you to cry as you had longed for gentle hands rather than rough ones.

,,We are worried about you'' she says. ,,You can talk to us, We have noticed you have been different lately detka'' the witch tries again, feeling bad for pushing you but deeply concerned about you as your bright smile had vanished lately.

Natasha nods, her voice low and serious ,,We care about you Y/N, you don't have to do this alone, whatever it is''. Your facade and walls crack a little at their genuine concern. You feel a lump forming in your throat, the urge to break down overwhelming. You look at them, tears threatening to spill. You know you needed to give them something but then again you knew it couldn't be the truth.

,,It's.. complicated'' you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. Wanda squeezes your arm reassuringly. ,,Please know that we are here for you, always'' she encourages, knowing they had pushed enough know and at least wanting you to know that much.

Their words feel like some weight finally lifted off your shoulders, despite the chain of Lucy holding you down. You wanted to tell them everything but the fear keeps you silent. Yet, the warmth and concern in their eyes gives you a glimmer of hope and warmth. As the conversations lingers in the quiet corner, Wanda and Natasha exchange a knowing glance.

Natasha is the first to break the silence ,,What are you doing tonight?'' she asks, her voice casual but her eyes intent on you. You hesitate, unsure how to respond. ,,Nothing much.. I guess just rest'' you say, knowing that Lucy had plans with the others to go out drinking again. You had planned for a quiet night, mentally and physically preparing for the mission tomorrow. But you dreaded the nights alone, dreading the emptiness of the room you shared with her. Dreading her return and the comments she would make as soon as she would sway into the room.

Wanda smiles softly, an idea clealry forming between them. ,,How about a movie night? Just like the old days'' she suggests, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. ,,We could use some downtime and I think you could too'' Natasha adds, her eyes sparkling with excitement. You blink a few times, suprised by the offer. It had infact been long since the three of you had spent time together like that. The thought of a quiet evening with them, away from everything, seems incredibly exciting. You find yourself nodding before you even fully process it or the potential consquenzes of your agreeing.

,,That sounds nice'' you admit, feeling a little shy as a small but genuine smile creeps onto your face. Natasha grins, looking relieved. ,,Great, we'll pick up some snacks and meet in the common room around seven?'' she asks and you nod. Wanda smiles before leaning in closer ,,Now get some rest detka'' and you smile a little before parting ways with them.

The warmth of their invitaton eases some of the tension in your chest and on your tired shoulders. It feels like a small escape, a chance to reconnect with them and perhaps even feel like yourself again. Whenever you had spent time with them in the past, they made you feel seen, valid for your experiences in life and the way of your thinking. As you step back into your room, finding it empty, everything fades in the background a little, the anxiety and anticipation about tonight.

The exhaustion weighs heavily on you, both physically and mentally and before you can think about tonight any further, your eyes begin feeling heavy, sleep quickly catching up with your tired bones. When you wake next, the room is dimly lit by the late afternoon sun, the rain having subsided, casting soft shadows. You glance at the clock, realizing it's almost time for the movie night. Stretching, you feel a little more rested, though the dull ache still remains. You notice Lucy's absence for a moment and feel a pang of relief and guilt. She must have already left to meet the others for their night out. The silence of the room feels foreign but peaceful. You take a deep breath, hoping she wouldn't find out about tonight as she most certainly would be furious as soon as she found out.

After a quick shower to freshen up, you dress in comfortable lounge clouthes, trying to shake off the remaining sleep from your nap. You take a moment to look into the mirror, noticing the tiredness in your eyes but also a small flicker of something else, maybe hope or at least the anticipation of a night without stress. As you make your way to the common room, you find the atmosphere cozy and inviting. The lights are dimmed, a stack of movies awaiting your selection on the table. Natasha is sprawled out on one of the couches, flipping through the snack options, while Wanda arranges blankets and pillows, making everything comfortable for the three of you.

,,Hey! perfect timing'' Natasha greets you with a grin, motioning you to join them. ,,We've got snacks, drinks and a whole lot of movies, pick your poision'' she smirks and you can't help but blush a little, feeling right at home with them and as if no time had passed since last spending time with them.

,,Yeah we've got everything malishka, from cheesy rom-coms to action, whatever you're in the mood for''. Wanda smiles warmly at you as you join them both, positioning yourself in the middle as they had left a gap there for you.

You feel a genuine smile stretch across your face as you settle into the plush couch. It feels good to be around them, like slipping into an old beloved sweater. The tension of the day begins to melt away, replaced by the comforting presence of both women.

,,How about we start with this one'' you suggest, reaching for a bowl of popcorn. Wanda and Natasha nod in agreement and the three of you quickly fall into easy conversation, laughing and chatting as the first movie starts. For the first time in what feels like forever, you begin to relax, feeling the warmth and safety of their company wrap aorund you like a protective blanket. For the first time you didn't need to tense, worry about an argument coming, saying the wrong thing or upsetting someone. Simply being able to be yourself and be free from the usual anxiety sourrounding you.

The hours seem to fly by as the sunset quickly turns into darkness of the night, the only light source both the TV and some lights and candles in the corner of the room. The three of you laugh until your sides hurt at the ridicilounsess of one of Wanda's favorite rom-coms, finding joy in the over the top scenarios and cheese lines. It feels good to laugh freely with them. As the night wears on, the movie choices shift to horror. The mood in the room changes with the flickering shadows on the screen and you find yourself jumping at sudden scares. Natasha's teasing doesn't stop as she finds you and Wanda basically jumping into each other's arms. ,,Badass Avenger and the Scarlet Witch hm?'' she smirks, causing you both to side eye her.

Eventually, the adrenaline fades, replaced by a warm, sleepy comfort. The room is filled with the glow of the television and the quiet hum of its background noises. You find yourself leaning into Natasha, her shoulder a steady and comforting presence. The exhaustion of the day, combined with your own rollercoaster of emotions, finally catches up with you. Your eyelids growing heavy and before you know it, you drift off, lulled to sleep by the warmth and safety of the moment.

Natasha had equally drifted off a little, smiling as she noticed you asleep on her shoulder and Wanda simply stares in adoration, having missed your presence with them both for the longest time. She lets herself relax, closing her eyes for a moment to enjoy the peace.

The peace is interrupted however, as soon as Lucy returns to your room from her night out. Both tipsy and irritated she finds your absence, sending a spike of anger through her alcohol fuzed daze. She clenches her jaw, before slamming the door behind her ,,JARVIS, where is Y/N?'' she screams. JARVIS responds in his usual calm tone ,,Miss Y/N is currently in the common room with Miss Romanoff and Miss Maximoff''.

Her anger reaches new levels as she stomps towards the common room, her footsteps echoing through the quiet halls. She's fuming, a mix of jealousy and drunken anger washing over her. As she reaches the door, she pushes it open with a loud bang, startling both you and Natasha awake. You blink, groggy and disorientated for a momnent, struggling to understand what is happening. The peaceful atmosphere shatters as Lucy stands there, her face filled with anger and confusion.

,,What the hell is going on here?'' she slurs, her voice thick with the alcohol she had consumed. Her eyes are wild, darting between the three of you. You feel a cold knot of dread forming in your stomach, feeling terribly guilty for not having told her as you knew from the start she wouldn't have approved this.

Natasha's arm, still around you from before, tenses and Wanda quickly stands, stepping slightly forward, her expression calm but her eyes alert. ,,Lucy'' you say, your voice thick with sleep and confusion. ,,What are you doing here?'' you try to keep your voice steady but the sight of her sends more waves of anxiety crashing over you.

Your girlfriend ignores your question, her gaze fixed on both women in the room with you, her lips curling in disapproval. ,,So this is what you're doing? Cozying up with them while I'm out?'' she spits, her words slurring. The accusation is clear and you feel embarassed as in all honesty she was right with every word.

,,We were just watching movies Lucy'' Natasha says, her voice steady and controlled. She stays seated but her posture is alert, ready to react if needed. ,,Nothing more''.

Wanda still stands beside the couch, looking at you with concern, then back at Lucy. ,,Y/N needed some time to relax. We invited her for a movie night'' the witch explains gently, trying to calm the tension in the room.

Lucy's eyes narrow, her jealousy reaching it's peaking point. ,,Oh is that it?'' she chuckles sarcastically. ,,Just a friendly little get together? Looked like more than that to me'' She takes a shaky step forward, her voice rising. ,,You think I don't see how they look at you? How you look at them?'

Your heart pounds at her words but you stand up, instinctively placing yourself between Lucy and the other two. ,,Lucy it's not like that. We were just hanging out like we used to'' you try to reason with her, wanting to simply be swallowed into the ground, feeling embarassed they both had to witness this.

Natasha stands up too, moving beside you, her presence protective. ,,Lucy calm down, you're drunk'' she says, her tone firm. ,,We don't want this to turn into a scene''.

Your girlfriend laughs bitterly, her eyes flashing with anger. ,,A scene? you think this is a scene? You don't even know what a scene is'' she points a finger at you, her voice harsh. ,,You're mine Y/N, I don't care what kind of night you had or hoped you had, you don't just ignore me and run off with them''.

,,You know what? You need to back off. Y/N has done nothing wrong'' Wanda suddenly speaks up, growing impatient with Lucy's behaviour.

,,Come on we are leaving'' she warns, ignoring Wanda's words as she tries pulling your arm. You feel a sting at her words, the weight of everything she implies. The usual shame and guilt washes over you and as you glance at the two of them, their worried and protective gazes, only cause you to feel worse. The pull of the situation is stronger than any urge to stay with them, fearing what would happen if you didn't comply with Lucy's request. As you stand there, the feeling of tension crackling in the air, Natasha suddenly reaches out and gently touches your arm, her voice soft but firm.

,,Y/N you don't have to go with her'' she offers, her green eyes locking onto yours with a seriousness that catches you off guard. For a moment you hesitate, the warmth and sincerity of their words a contrast to the cold anger coming from Lucy. The idea of staying and not having to face this night was tempting but again Lucy's grip on you was tighter than anything you had felt before.

As her glare intensifies, her hands clenched at her sides, the familiar fear and guilt builds up, overwhelming you for a moment. You swallow hard, looking down, uanble to meet the Black Widow's eyes any longer. ,,I should go'' you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the decision crushes you and you feel the string of tears threatening to spill over. Without another word, you nod, swallowing back the tears turning towards Lucy and following her out of the room. Natasha steps forward as if wanting to follow you but Wanda holds her back, knowing you had made your choice for tonight.

As you enter your shared room, you immediately head to bed, the tears flowing freely as Lucy barely looks at you, storming around, still mutterting angrily. Tonight you realize the reality of what you are stuck in, a reality you can‘t seem to escape from. Both Wanda and Natasha had been so kind, too kind perhaps. Maybe Lucy was right, maybe you didn‘t deserve anything, didn‘t deserve kindness and maybe you shouldn‘t have accepted their invitation, as you deep down knew this was coming.

You lay down, sobbing silently into your pillow, feeling the stinging in your heart. As Lucy eventually quietens and settles down, you feel utterly alone, despite her presence. You close your eyes, wanting nothing more than sleep to come and make you forget.

As you left with Lucy, the silence in the common room feels heavy. Wanda and Natasha stand there quietly, stunned, before the redheads sighs deeply. They clean up in silence, both lost in their thoughts. Once everything was tidy, the tension follows them back to their room. Natasha is the first to break the silence, her voice low and troubled. „I can‘t believe she just went with her“ she sighs, staring up at the ceiling. „Did you see the way Lucy was acting? I‘ve never seen her like that before, it‘s not normal“.

Wanda turns onto her side, facing her girlfriend. „Yeah I saw it“ she replies softly. „Lucy was drunk“ she states before silence follows. „But it was more than that, she was possessive and angry and it didn‘t seem right“. She hesitates, her eyes searching Natasha‘s. „Y/N looked scared Tasha, I have never seen her like that before“ Wanda acknowledges, finally understanding her lovers words from the other day and what Natasha had been implying all along.

Natasha sighs, turning her head to meet Wanda‘s gaze. „I know“ she says, her voice filled with guilt. „I should have done more, should have stopped her“. Wanda reaches out, taking her girlfriends hand into her own. „We did what we could love, besides Y/N was in a tough spot, you saw how Lucy reacted“.

Her girlfriends expression darkens, a protective instinct on her features. „Lucy is hurting her Wanda. Maybe not physically- I hope at least but emotionally. You saw how she flinched when Lucy yelled. That‘s not normal and Y/N doesn‘t deserve that“. Wanda nods in agreement, having seen the same things but not wanting to think too much about that as the thought killed her. Wanda squeezes Natasha‘s hand, nodding. „We‘ll figure it out but we have to be careful. Y/N has to want our help and right now she seems scared“.

Natasha‘s eyes flicker with frustration. „But we can‘t just sit by and do nothing“ she insists. „What if something happens?“. Wanda moves closer, her hand resting comfortingly on Natasha‘s cheek. „Then we step in darling“ she reassures and the redhead finds herself leaning into her girlfriends touch.

----

The next morning arrives much quicker than you anticipated, barely getting any sleep as Lucy's words and the night before had kept you awake most of the night. Tired and fatigued, you somehow got yourself ready for the upcoming mission, getting into your costume and chugging a Gaterode and munching on a protein bar as you make your way to the others. Lucy was still asleep when you left and you had considered waking her but from experiences in the past, she hated to be woken up so you simply accepted it and meet the others by the Quinjet.

Natasha and Wanda quickly greet you, alongside the other Avengers joining you on this mission. You greet them with a small smile, feeling both exhausted and embrassed about what happened the night prior and that they had to witness it. You hoped for a quick succesful mission, wanting nothing more than to get back into bed. You avoid the cockpit, strapping yourself into one of the seats and closing your eyes, missing the other's chatting and catching up with each other as you didn't feel like socizalising. They leave you be, especially the two redheads whos eyes seem to follow your every movement, knowing you probably needed some space after the night before and wanting to allow you to rest some more before arriving as you seemed exhausted.

The Quinjet moves through the sky with light speed, getting you to your destination quick and safely. As soon as you feel a hand on your shoulder, you flinch not expecting the sudden sensation. Wanda smiles warmly at you, ignoring how you reacted to her touch. ,,We're there sweetie'' she coos, frowning a little at seeing you in this state. ,,Are you sure you're up for this detka?'' Natasha asks carefully and you simply nod, rising to your feet and ignoring the dizzy spell as you walk into action with the others.

It was a usual mission, infiltatring a secret enemy hideout stashed with countless illegal and highly dangerous weapons. The mission had been going on for months and Tony finally found their biggest secret base, giving you all the tasks to both disable the weapons and bring in the people responsible. Both Thor and Steve make their way through towards the basement, Natasha, Wanda and you on your way to the labs in order to find the weapons. You dodge security cameras knowlingly, having done this plenty of times before. Natasha is quick to take out the occassional guard lingering somewhere or Wanda simply making them drop to the floor with her magic.

The three of you move in perfect synch, completing each other perfectly and in no time you manage to reach the weapons, hack into their computer database and follow your mission innotiative. After checking back in with the others, you make your way back to the main area, when suddenly you are caught by countless men carrying weapons and making your way back to the others more difficult than necessary. With all of your strength left, you fight them off along with the other two, doging their punches and shots and making them fly into the nearest wall.

It almost all carried out to plan when Thor and Steve alerted you they had what you needed and to get back to the Quinjet, the three of you glancing at each other before getting ready, when another wave of them came. You had been so preoccupied by the pain on your body and the dizziness slowly dragging you down that you slipped a little, stepping in front of Wanda and pushing her out of the way as a bullet came her way. And Wanda being Wanda she of course had it, her magic already glowing in her hands ready to dodge the bullet or simply make it fly back. Instead it graced your shoulder slightly, Natasha quick to make the last of them drop unconscious as they aid to your side.

,,Y/N are you okay?'' Wanda asks, her expression panicked as she sees the cut on your arm and the droplets of blood. ,,Yes it just graced me'' you reassure, signaling them both to get back to the others. They follow close behind you, meeting the others before Natasha takes the wheel, wanting to get back to the compound as quickly as possibly. Wanda sits you down, strapping you into your seat before giving you some water. ,,Wands I'm fine'' you reassure again but your pale expression and the shacking of your hands from holding the water bottle aren't exactly convincing the redhead. Natasha glances towards you both a few times, the concern rippling through her, despite knowing you are safe with her girlfriend.

,,Let me have a look'' she urges, pulling at your uniform but you pull away, knowing you couldn't let her see, not with the state your body was currently in. In the end the redhead accepts it, not budging from the seat beside you and keeping a close eye on you. You stare at the opposite seats which are empty, feeling foolish for your actions, knowing Wanda easily had that bullet and would have been safe. You don't know what washed over you, suddenly feeling the urge to protect them both, despite knowing they are much tougher and stronger than you are.

Almost defeated you make your way back into the compound, not remotely interested in the debriefing with Tony but Steve and Thor noticed, signaling to both redheads they had got it and they can take care of you instead. They follow you into the hallway before stopping you ,,Y/N Y/N wait'' they urge, not wanting to let you leave like this. ,,I said I'm fine'' you suddenly snap, your emotions and the heavy exhaustion betraying you and you simply storm off towards the elevator, leaving them both standing stunned in the hallway, accepting the distance you have put between them and worrying they had fussed too much.

As soon as you step into the elevator moments later, the exhaustion seems to drag you down whole. You barely manage to press a button before your knees give in, causing you to sink to the floor, your back leaning against the wall of the elevator. Wanda and Natasha barely make it back to their room when they suddenly hear JARVIS over the intercoms. ,,Miss Romanoff, Miss Maximoff'' he begins ,,It seems Miss Y/N is in need off assistance in the north elevator''. Their eyes meet for a bare second before they both jolt towards you.

JARVIS system works as quick as light, opening the elevator door and finding your exhausted frame on the floor. In seconds they both drop to their knees, taking your cheeks into their hands, their hearts beating faster at the sight of you like this. ,,Detka, can you hear me?'' Wanda tries and you nod weakly, concious but barely. ,,Okay let's get you to med bay'' Natasha urges, worried the bullet may have done more damage than you let on and they initially believed. ,,No.. no.. please no med bay'' you practically beg through your last energy and Wanda notices the panic in your voice and face, nodding towards Natasha before smiling reassuringly at you.

,,Okay sweetie, let's get you to our room instead hm?'' she offers and you nod weakly before they get you on your feet, each of them resting an arm on their shoulders and getting you towards their room. Natasha is quick to set you down on their sofa, running to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit as Wanda fetches you a sugary drink, hoping this was simply fatigue due to the mission and how exhausted you had been lately. She holds the bottle for you as you take slow sips, the blood slowly reaching your brain again and causing for the shacking of your hands to stop and the colour slowly fading back into your features.

,,Let's take this off and have a look'' Natasha urges and you knew then it was pointless. They would see now due to your own foolishness and without being able to hide it any longer, the tears flow freely, feeling both embarassed and weak for having them see. ,,Detka, are you in pain?'' Wanda asks concerned, seeing you so sad and flinching at Natasha's gently touches. You simply avoid answering her, closing your eyes and brazing for what is about to happen.

Natasha undoes the zips slowly before pulling your uniform off your shoulders, exposing you in a tank top. They instantly notice the beaten and bruised state of your body and their reaction is utterly different. Wanda shocked, the colour equally draining from her face, unable to yet comprehend what had happened. ,,Y/N?!'' she gasps ,,What happened, was this on a mission?''. You remain quiet, meeting Natasha's gaze who knew exactly where these came from. She remains silent herself, inspecting the wound on your shoulder from earlier, making sure to clean and wrap it up for you. She talks you through every step, when it may sting and when it wouldn't, silently asking for your permission and treating you with the gentlest touch in the world.

,,Wait'' Wanda suddenly mumbles as she realizes the extent of your stiutation and what you had been trapped in for almost a year now. ,,Please tell me this wasn't Lucy, malishka'' she urges but when you remain silent again, knowing you couldn't lie to them any longer her green eyes meet Natasha's, filled with tears. ,,I'm going to kill her'' the Black Widow hisses, abandoning the first aid kit before she gets ready to find Lucy. ,,No.. Natasha please..'' you beg, not wanting her to get caught up in this, not wanting her to fight your battles and do what you should have done a long time ago.

Your hands frantically reach for hers, terrified of her leaving and getting hurt by Lucy or her words. She stays, kneeling down in front of you before taking a glimpse at your tired eyes. ,,It's okay, I'm not leaving'' she reassures. ,,What can we do darling?'' she questions as her hands comfortably and reassuringly rest on your knees. ,,May I- stay with you two for a bit please?'' you ask and your voice sounds so broken due to your fear of them abandoning you that it breaks their heart. Natasha steps away for a moment, needing to get her own emotions at bay before she was going to loose it on your girlfriend. Wanda smiles, placing her hand on your cheek ,,What can I do, detka?'' she asks softly, wiping the tears from your cheeks with her thumbs.

,,How would you feel about a nice soothing bath?'' she offers and the sound of that truly sounds heavenly. You nod weakly, feeling bad you intruded on them like this but feeling safe and comfortable with them right now. ,,Let me just run it for you darling'' she assures and as she leaves you for a moment you watch Natasha, her back faced to you before the words spill out of you, barely audible but enough for the redhead to hear. ,,I'm sorry'' you whimper, instantly catching her attention as she turns around and walks over to you. Her eyebrows furrow as she takes a seat beside you ,,What are you sorry for?'' she asks sincerly.

,,For letting you both down, I know you taught me better than this but I didn't know what to do'' you hiccup. Her heart hurts at your statement, unable to form any words as she simply wraps her arms around you, holding you steady. ,,Never be sorry Y/N, this is not your fault'' she assures. Before you know it, Wanda guides you into their bathroom, a warm soothing bath already waiting for you. She had placed some warm towels near the sink for you, as well as one of her hoodies and leggins and some clean socks, knowing you wouldn't feel comfortable in your uniform. ,,Thank you Wands'' you mumble and for a moment there is a pause as the two of you look at each other.

,,Do you need any help? I can stay with you'' she offers but you feel self concious, not wanting her to see the full extend of your bruises, knowing they had only seen a couple so far and knowing the whole image would break them. ,,No thank you and thank you for this'' you smile at her and she nods, giving you the privacy you needed. ,,I'll just be out there, give me a shout if you need anything at all''. And with those words she leaves you, allowing you to undress yourself and soothe your bones in the bath that she had made for you. You instantly feel a little at ease, your muscles feeling less sore in an instant and you wonder whether Wanda had added more than just the bath bubbles she said she added for you, knowing her magic was strong.

When the Scarlet Witch returns to her girlfriend, Natasha sits on the sofa, both the rage and sadness written in her perfect features. Wanda sighs, not having expected this outcome but the pieces finally falling together and making sense after all. ,,I need to go and settle this Wands'' Natasha sighs, her knuckles turning white from the pure anger she is feeling in this moment. ,,I know my love but not like this'' she urges. ,,Help me fix us up some dinner and then we will figure this out together okay?'' the redhead suggests and Natasha nods, knowing her partner was right and if she so much as looked at Lucy right now, she wouldn't be able to control herself.

About half an hour, the two of them finish dinner, noticing you still aren't around and as their gazes meet, the worry is evident on their features. ,,I'll check on her'' Wanda announces. She knocks on the door a few times without success. Natasha follows, noticing the absence of your response. ,,Y/N darling'' Wanda tries again without success. In an instant Natasha opens the door, the two of them finding you asleep safe and soundly in the tub. Their hearts swell at the sight and Wanda is quick to fetch some of the warm towels, carefully scooping you up in her arms as you are knocked out cold. They dress and dry you with the most gentlest of touches, their eyes never prying.

After finishing, Natasha puts you to bed, tugging you in before Wanda suddenly storms off. ,,Where are you going?'' the Black Widow questions, having tried to ignore the state of your body so far and the new bruises and scars they had discovered. ,,Settling this'' Wanda hisses, her eyes glowing red with anger and Natasha lets her, knowing Lucy deserved every bit of Wanda's anger. The Scarlet Witch hurries through the corridor into the elevator, asking JARVIS where she could find Lucy.

Without a second thought she bursts through the door of your and Lucy's shared room, finding her with her back turned, looking out the window. ,,Where the hell have you been?'' she hisses, assuming it was you but when there is a lack of response she turns around, confusion washing over her as she finds Wanda instead. ,,What the hell are you doing here?'' she spits, seeing the red glowing of Wanda's hands. ,,You have exactly until tomorrow morning to leave this place and don't you ever try and return'' Wanda hisses, before storming into the bathroom and bedroom, collecting some of your things, ignoring Lucy's presence.

,,What are you rambling about? where is Y/N?'' she asks, following after the witch. ,,You will never see her again, never lay a single finger on her again'' Wanda warns, trying to hold back her magic, knowing one wrong move and it could wipe out her entire being from ever existing. ,,You have until tomorrow morning, if you aren't gone Natasha will surely have pleasure to see to it'' Wanda hisses as she collects some of your things from the bathroom. Before she can storm off, Lucy stands in her way, her angry eyes darting through Wanda. ,,She's a liar and a manipulator, I didn't do anything, not my fault she's been in love with you two for years'' she laughs bitterly, before Wanda pushes her aside, ignoring her comments and banging the door shut on her way out.

When Wanda returns, she finds you sitting with Natasha on the sofa, looking both comfortable and sleepy in her clothes. The redhead gently sets your things down and your questioning eyes find hers. ,,W- Wanda where were you?'' you stammer, fearing the worst. Wanda sighs deeply before kneeling in front of you ,,I have got some of your things darling, you'll stay with us tonight'' she assures. ,,By tomorrow morning Lucy will be gone and you won't ever have to see her again, she will never lay a hand on you again''. You find yourself in tears again at how protective they are, how they are putting your safety and needs first. ,,Tha- thank you'' is the only thing you manage to say before Wanda takes your hand and guides you to their dining table. ,,I'm sure you must be starving darling, lets eat something hm?'' she suggests and you nod at her offer, sitting between the two of them and enjoying the comfortable silence and occasional small talk.

During the remainder of the night, the two of them having you sandwiched and comfortable between them as you sit on the sofa watching a movie, you are lost in thought. Knowing this was for the best but somehow still reminsing the good times with Lucy, feeling bad you wouldn't get to talk to her yourself and be brave and find the courage to tell her exactly what you had been thinking yourself. Feeling bad to have her driven away from this place as she was good at her missions, belonged with the Avengers just like you did. And you didn't want to ruin it for her. Wanda and Natasha could tell you are lost in thoughts as you had been very quiet, not focusing on the movie much, missing some of the funny bits that has them both giggling or the jump scares, having them both jump.

In the end you let go off the thoughts, feeling so safe and comfortable with both of them that you simply fall asleep on Wanda's shoulder. They debated for a little bit how to do the sleeping situation as the couch wasn't nearly big enough for you three or even two people. And they worried leaving you here alone, knowing this was a lot to process. In the end, Natasha again took you in her strong safe arms, placing you in the middle of their big bed, both of them on either side of you, giving you some space but wanting you to not be alone incase you would wake up tonight and needed anything. And that night was the first night in a very long time where you had proper sleep. You had woken up at some point, confused by the strange surroundings until you found them next to you, sleepily and instictively crawling into their arms before falling asleep and not waking until late the next morning.

The two of them chuckled finding you in their arms, loving the feeling of holding you and knowing deep down that you belong with them, never with Lucy and never anyone else again. But they knew you needed time. Natasha and Wanda got up early, wanting nothing more than to stay beside you but knowing they had things to do. Wanda made sure to have a chat with Tony and the others, explaining the situation delicately and making sure they would take the three of you off missions for a little bit in order to let you and your body heal for a while. After she focused on making breakfast for the three of you, making sure to add some of your favorites, just like she remembered. Natasha in the meantime made sure Lucy was truly leaving, finding her with her bags packed in your room.

,,I hope you three will be very happy'' she spits and Natasha couldnt help but use her right hook on Lucy, a small portion of what she really meant to do to her. With a defeated ego, her bags and a broken nose she ended up leaving the compound, Natasha alerting JARVIS and security that she may never be seen on the premises again. The Black Widow made sure there are no reminders of her left in your room, if you wished to return.

By the time you wake up, finding the bed empty and the clock in their room showing it was past 10am you instantly rise to your feet, feeling panicked for sleeping in so long. Usually, you would have gotten told off for this by Lucy. You find both Wanda and Natasha in the kitchen, waiting for you with your favorite breakfast. ,,Good Morning Detka'' they greet you at the same time. Nervously, you take a seat, sipping some of the orange juice before meeting their gazes. ,,I'm sorry for sleeping so long'' you apologize and Wanda quickly chuckles and shakes her head. ,,Nonsense you were exhausted detka'' she assures. ,,How exactly did I end up in your bed?'' you ask a little shily and Natasha can't help but chuckle ,,You fell asleep on us and we took you to bed, we didn't want you alone in the livingroom'' she assures and you nod.

,,Is she gone?'' you ask after a while of eating breakfast with them in comfortable silence. ,,Yes she's gone'' Wanda assures and they see the tension leaving from your shoulders. The remainder of the day you spent with them as they take it slow with you, going on a walk in the afternoon, eating dinner with you and watching another movie with you in the evening. You felt at ease, knowing this was going to haunt you for a while to come but feeling safe with them. The routine of the prior night repeats as you fall asleep on them and they take you to bed, you not feeling comfortable with sleeping alone and the two of them liking your presence.

The weeks to follow had been filled with many ups and downs, days where you barely managed to get out of bed, days where you were full of energy before reality came crashing down on you. Natasha and Wanda had been with you every step of the way, getting your body and soul enough rest to heal from this. Eventually you moved back into your old room, feeling like intruding on them. You still ate with them, trained with them, eventually even joined them on missions again. You spent your days the way you always had before Lucy, right with them and where you belong. The nights had been lonely often, filled with nightmares or the inability to sleep at all. But slowly you started to heal, focusing on yourself again and slowly as the months passed both Wanda and Natasha seemed content, having you back and feeling like their sunshine was back again.

Your body had healed, the bruises and scars long gone now, the scars on your soul still lingering but fading with each day, with every moment of spending time with them, every soft gentle touch, every reminder that you are worth it. And in the end you started to believe it too, knowing your abilities and never wanting anything like this to ever happen again. It's not until one of Tony's birthday parties that your emotions get the better off you. It had almost been a year without her, a year without pain, without beatings, without feeling like you are worthless every minute of every day. But somehow tonight felt strange, despite having fun with Wanda and Natasha and getting ready with them, Wanda letting you borrow one of her dresses.

You somehow felt empty that night, eventually stealing away to one of the balconies, away from the crowds. Your heart had been feeling strange lately, a longing that you couldn't quite grasp. Each day your thoughts had been consumed by them, their touches on you, their words and how gentle they had been with you. And you felt sad, having missed your chance, longing for someone like them and despite liking your freedoom, also feeling incredibly lonely at night. For the past few days you had been more quiet and they had noticed of course, having tried to get the truth out of you but you didn't feel ready to tell either of them how you truly had been feeling.

,,Penny for your thoughts?'' Natasha interrupts the peace and as you turn around you find her in the black dress that complemented her features perfectly. Wanda is right beside her, the red dress matching the wine glass she is holding perfectly and you couldn't help but smile, seeing them so happy, so perfect for each other. ,,Hi there'' you greet them, feeling slightly tipsy from the amount of drinks you had been having in order to forget.

,,Enjoying the view?'' Wanda teases and you freeze for a moment until she looks at the sky filled with stars and the moon shining down brightly on the compound. ,,Yeah it's peaceful, I like it'' you admit and they both join you, before Natasha offers you to sit down on one of the large outdoor sofas. ,,What's been on your mind detka?'' she asks, having noticed and not wanting to worry anymore, simply wanting to get the all too familiar smile back she had been in love with for years.

,,I've just been thinking a lot lately'' you admit, staring at the now empty glass in your shaking hands. ,,What about love?'' Wanda asks carefully, tilting her head a little in order to catch a better glimpse of you. ,,About life, you know?'' you sigh and Natasha can't help but chuckle. ,,Come on detka, tell us'' she smiles warmly, enjoying the poetic side of you. ,,I just regret things you know? with Lucy and before and the choices I made'' you sigh. ,,I can't help but wonder what my future would have been like if I didn't-'' you stop yourself, not wanting to ruin what you had built with them by filling them in how you truly had been feeling.

Wanda and Natasha had talked a lot in the last few months, wanting to give you space and time to heal but having realized you belong with them. And they knew, it didn't take Natasha's spy skills or Wanda's magic to figure out that you felt the same way but they never wanted it to be too soon, never wanting to push you unil you were truly ready. But they could see the way you look at them holding hands, thinking about how your hand would fit in it so perfectly. Seeing their loving glances and how your heart equally beat for them, wanting to feel them on you, thinking about what their lips felt like on yours.

,,Didn't choose us over her?'' Natasha questions bluntly, knowing it was the right time to adress this tonight. Your eyes widen at her statement, before your gaze averts them, nodding before looking into the distance. Her statement surprised you as you never truly knew whether there was an us considering the two of them had always loved each other, long before you even joined them. ,,Tell us how you feel'' Wanda encourages, her green eyes staring right into your soul. ,,I can't'' you sigh, your heart beating out of your chest at this point. ,,Why?'' Natasha questions curiously, enjoying the sight of you squirming. ,,Because I don't want to ruin what we have'' you admit, tears filling your vision.

,,You could never darling'' Wanda assures and then it bursts out of you. ,,I wish I never got with her or even if I did I wish I would have stood up for myself, I feel lonely, my heart aches for...'' you still can't finish your sentence but Natasha is quite happy finishing it for you. ,,For us?'' she questions, a smirk playing on her lips and your eyes widen again at her bluntness. ,,Yes'' you admit, tears lingering in your eyes. ,,And I know you've got each other and would never feel the same but you just are so kind and perfect to me'' you admit.

This time Wanda breaks the silence, taking your hand into her own and abandoning the glass you had been holding. ,,Detka, we have been in love with you for years you know'' she admits and instantly your eyes snap towards her green ones. ,,Natasha hated every single day of you not being with us and we know it hasn't been easy for you lately, thats why we never said anything but you belong with us'' she admits and when you look at Natasha and see the sincerity in her eyes, you almost can't believe this is real and not one of your daydreams.

,,You.. you love me?'' you question, wanting to make sure you understood them right. ,,Yes silly, now the question is, do you love us?'' Natasha teases again and you can't help but blush under their gazes before nodding. ,,Good, I'm glad we finally talked about that'' she smiles before taking a sip from her drink. ,,Now whenever you are ready, we can have a conversation about this properly okay? but know you never have to be lonely again with us or scared, we will be there, we will take care of you because you belong with us'' Wanda confesses and you nod weakly, still feeling like you are in a daze.

,,Need a refill?'' Natasha offers and you chuckle a little reliefed before nodding. ,,Lets go then'' they suggest and you follow them as they take you to the bar. You end up dancing with them, drinking with them and giggling with them, finally feeling like you belong, still unable to believe any of this is real. After a while, you suddenly look at them both with an expression neither of them could read. ,,Nat?'' you mumble, not wanting anyone else to hear what you are about to say. ,,Yes detka?'' she asks, leaning in a little closer, her eyes piercing into your own and her lips so close to your own.

,,What if I'm ready now?'' you blurt out, feeling both the effects of the alcohol and the confession from before, mixed with adrenaline. ,,What?'' she asks confused, not understanding what you are implying. ,,You said to tell you when I'm ready, what if I'm ready for you both, right now?'' you ask again, this time much clearer and Natashas's eyes quickly meet Wanda's the lust in your own blending in with theirs. ,,Yes.. Yes I mean if you're sure'' she mumbles before you nod. ,,Then come on, we'll take good care of you'' Natasha offers and you take their hands into your own as they lead you away from the crowds towards their room, their hungry lips and hands already on you as soon as you step into the elevator and the door closes behind you.

And despite everything that had happened, you finally know you belong. With them, always.

[hansensgirl]

summary. | Your father’s friend just wants you to relax for once.

prompts. | Natasha Romanoff + Dad’s Best Friend + “You have no idea what you do to a woman like me.” + Creampie, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!dad’s best friend!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, coercion, age gap, dad’s best friend, Mommy kink, drinking/forced drinking, rough sex, strapping, use of squirting strap, pet names, dirty talk, mild dumbification, praise, mentions of female oral, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics.

Natasha’s strap-on strokes your inner walls, repeatedly hitting that sweet spot within you. She holds your arms above your head by your wrists, and you marvel at her strength. 

Your tits bounce with her powerful thrusts, pathetic moans leaving your parted lips and filling the room. Your pornographic noises drown out the sound of skin on skin, but you’re still a victim of the older woman’s filthy words.

“Look at ya—you’re a mess, baby,” Natasha coos, admiring the fucked-out look on your face. She watches as your eyes roll back into your head when she grinds her cock into you, giving your clit some friction. “You needed this badly, huh? Just needed Mommy to fuck you.”

Absentmindedly, you nod your head. 

But it’s true—you’re always so on edge and straitlaced. Natasha—your father’s friend—believed you needed a good fucking to loosen you up. Along with much alcohol, which she gladly supplied you with until you were incoherent.

“Uh-huh!” you babble, keeping your legs spread so that she can better spear into you. Your head swims under the waves of wine and arousal, desire bubbling to the surface with the euphoria that bursts in your body. She loves you like this.

Natasha chuckles at how she has basically fucked you stupid.

It didn’t take much to get you like this—writhing on the bed in the guest room she always occupies whenever she’s in town. Just some heavy petting, and you were gone—pliant under the older woman’s touch. At times, you mumbled refusals, but once she got your clothes off, you were everything she has dreamed of.

Natasha reaches a thumb down to your clit, and she rubs the swollen pearl, making you cry out. “Oh– ’M gonna come,” you mewl, staring up at her as you focus on the ascension of your climax. 

The pressure within you builds and builds, intense and breath-taking. Your moans are loud, and Natasha is glad she made sure no one would be home. She thrusts in and out of you with vigour, determined to get you to come around her dick.

“You gonna come on Mommy’s cock, baby? Hm? Gonna soak it like a good girl?” she asks, adding fuel to the fire that is your orgasm. You nod rapidly, and she smirks. “Go ahead, then. Come for Mommy,” Natasha tells you.

On her command, you come undone. Your cunt squeezes your father’s friend’s strap as you coat it in your cream. You cry out her name and dig your nails into your skin, leaving crescent-shaped scars in their wake.

The pleasure is too much—you haven’t felt anything like this before. Natasha fucks you through your climax, even when you become overstimulated and weakly beg her to give you a break. She keeps rubbing your clit until she deems you’ve had enough.

The older woman reaches down to her strap and grabs at the fake balls, ready to give you a surprise you’ll have to remember the following day. 

“Mommy’s gonna fill you up, baby,” she whispers, slowing down the movements of her hips. Your brows furrow in confusion, but in your haze, you don’t question her words too much. All you can think about is getting fucked. “Gonna dump a load in this tight cunt—fill ‘er up ‘til you’re begging me for more.”

Natasha squeezes, and you feel thick, sticky liquid spurting inside you. It coats your walls, and the odd sensation is welcomed. Just as she said, she fills you up with the ‘cum’ until it leaks past her fake cock, dripping down your ass and onto the sheets. 

“You have no idea what you do to a woman like me,” she smirks, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on your lips. She is more than satisfied when she tastes herself and the wine on your mouth.

[a-spes]

| DEVIOUS LIES — Part two (8.790 words).

| Summary — Anon Request — When your friend asked you out for a drink, you didn't think much about it. Yet, maybe you should've, because that night ruined your life. It has been two years, and you can't stop think about what you lost. Your job, your friends, your lover, and even your mind was left in that motel room.

| Tags & warnings — Avenger!Natasha Romanoff x Avenger!Reader, AoS!OC x Avenger!Reader, Other Avengers, angst without comfort, cheating, mental health issues, suicidal ideations, self depreciation, mentions of SA&SH, manipulation, toxic relationship (OCxR), revenge porn, use of drugs.

| Author's notes — I don't know how I feel about that second part, i'm not sure i like it, but now it's written it costs me nothing to share. So here we are. I can just hope that I managed to convey, at least a little, the emotions I wanted to. And, most importantly, take care of yourself.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

Almost a year has gone by, and it means one thing: in a few weeks, it’s going to be Natasha's birthday, again. The woman is not sure how she feels about it. She never really had a birthday before she joined the Avengers, and despite the years that have passed since, she still feels a certain awkwardness at this time of the year. Especially as the boys tended to do too much.

She could only pretend to match their enthusiasm. A slight smile spreads across her face as she takes a sip from her drink, staying silent. She has been listening to her teammates talking about her birthday’s party for almost half an hour now. She stopped trying to avoid it a long time ago, when she realized how much they enjoyed organizing this stupid party. She can deal with anything they’re going to come up with if she gets to see their smiles in exchange. Her sentence won’t last more than a few hours, but the memories are going to stick with them for eternity, and it has no price.

"Wait, you know what?” someone asked. It was Clint, and by the mischievous smile on his face, the redhead already knew that she wouldn't appreciate the next words that are going to come out of his mouth. “I think we should have the mascot come over again," he added, his eyes not leaving hers. "What? It was funny to have a cartoon version of you running around," he defended himself when he saw her glance darkening.

"You know what? Do whatever you want," she mumbled, “it’s not as if you were asking for my opinion anyway,” she eventually gave in. Sometimes, you have to know how to pick your battles, and that is one she definitely cannot win, not when all the others seem to appreciate the idea.

"That’s such a great idea!” one exclaimed, and this time it was Peter Parker, “Mr. Stark, do you think they would accept to come again?” he asked the man.

"Obviously!" Tony replied without an ounce of hesitation, laughing at the question. The man thought it was a stupid thing to ask, "she likes you too much to miss your birthday,” he explained, pointing at the redhead while saying those words. "What? She pretends it’s not true, but I know she is lying. I can see right through her and, believe me, she’ll be here,"  he explained when he noticed the confused looks of his teammates.

"Who’s she?" a voice asked, cutting short to Tony’s rambling. That’s the question that has been on everyone’s minds, but that no one dared to ask out loud, except for one of them — And it hasn’t been Natasha, it is Steve that spoke first.

On the contrary, the woman remained silent because she didn’t need words to express herself, a silent conversation taking place between the billionaire and her through a simple glance. Even if she already has her suspicions, and is almost sure that she knows the answer to that question, she wants him to say it, refusing to believe it otherwise.

The moment she saw the box, she was intrigued by it, something drawing the woman to the small package that no one claimed as theirs. It’s almost as if it came out of nowhere, no one knowing who left it here, or what may be inside the black box. At first, she thought it was some joke, but she knew they were being honest when saying they had nothing to do with the gift. And if she had expected a lot of things to be wrapped in the red ribbon, she definitely wasn’t ready for a ghost from her past to emerge from it.

A quick glance before she suddenly closes the box again, that’s all it took for the redhead to know who was behind that gift. The only thing she could think about was how — How did it happen without any of them noticing your presence? Despite the appearances, and the smile she was trying to keep on, the woman was shaken — Why would you do that, more than two years after your break up? Could it be that you are that desperate?

"Is everything okay?" Clint asked, being the only one to seem to notice a change in Natasha’s behavior. At least, everyone had enough restraint to not ask the question that burns their lips — What’s inside the box?

She wouldn’t have answered if one of them had asked. She wouldn’t even have opened the gift if she had known that it was from you, and that’s probably why you left it on the table, avoiding giving it to her directly. Smart girl, she thought. At first sight, the woman couldn’t tell it was coming from you but there was no doubt remaining once she saw the content — There is only one person on Earth that cares enough to give her such a gift. A person that constantly looks after her, guessing what the redhead wasn’t telling.

A person that she used to love. 

A person that couldn’t be here, was she? The woman can’t help but glance around but she can’t find your face. What was she expecting anyway? To see you in the corner of the room with a bright smile and your arms open for her to throw herself in a hug? That was stupid, and so is the hint of hope she felt when she opened the box. The others told her many times she has to turn the page, but she doesn’t seem ready to let you go. Even after two years, she is still craving your presence as much as before.

The thought of it puts to shame the redhead who knows she shouldn’t hold on to the past, especially when the past in question has a pretty face and breaks her heart. Even after what you’ve done to her, she has spent hours crying, praying for you to come back. Even after listening to the others assuring her that she deserves better, she couldn’t forget how you’ve always been the most caring, and strong, and beautiful person she has ever met in her life. 

You weren’t horrible. Were you? 

Sometimes, she thinks you are a monster. 

Sometimes, she thinks she is, for not listening to you that day. 

That day, she let her anger speak for her, something she swore she would never do again. When she started to realize that, maybe, she should’ve listened to your version of the events, it was too late. At the time, she couldn’t bear to hear the sound of your voice or see your voice, but after two years, as the memory of it starts to fade away, she surprised herself to miss it. 

Except that Fury had refused to tell her where you were. She tried to ask nicely, to beg, and even to threaten the man, but none of it worked. He said that you needed time, that you’ll be back when you are ready, not before. Despite her frustration, the woman accepted it. After all, she is the one to blame, the one that puts herself in such a situation. She could only hold on to the fact that, one day, you’ll be back. Right? As the days go by, the likelihood of ever seeing you again is gradually diminishing. Some nights, when she can’t sleep, she stays up, eyes fixed on her laptop’s screen — Maybe she could give fate a helping hand? She knows she could find you easily. Yet, despite her urge to do it, she has always ended up closing her laptop without starting the research. 

She has to trust Fury, she repeats to herself. Even if she sometimes disagrees with the man, even if it’s frustrating, she has to believe him when he says that you are safe.

Some other nights, all she can feel is anger, and hatred. The redhead is lost, and scared, again, something she never thought she would feel again the day you two met. What if it was true, and you really cheated on her? Then, you could do it again if she forgives you, because history always repeats itself, and you are no exception to the rules of the universe. She knows how people tend to promise a lot of things that they don’t mean, especially when they are desperate, which is exactly what you’ve been that day. She couldn’t forget the look on your face when she dragged you out of the building, the despair in those bright eyes, glistening with tears. This is the only thing she can remember when she thinks about you. Not the good moments you’ve shared, only the brutality of the end of your relationship. 

You've abandoned her, and so did she.

It has been three since she last saw you, and almost a year since her birthday party, but the woman couldn’t stop thinking about it. She didn’t take the gift, leaving the jewelry in the box, and the box on a shelf. She hasn't touched it since. How could she when just the sight of it was already too much to bear?

Every day, when she wakes up, it is one of the first things she sees, and one of the last when she goes to sleep. If it doesn’t feel right to the woman to take the gift, it doesn’t feel right to throw it in the bin either, so it stayed here as a constant reminder of what she has done. Every time she thinks she is finally over it, the box rekindles her doubts. There are some things she can’t quite understand about the situation, and why you would give her such a gift, two years after she kicked you out, is one of them.

Maybe it was a poisoned gift. Maybe it was a sick trick to make her feel guilty, a way to get her to crawl back to you. Beside these possibilities, she couldn’t think of any others that were likely, and she was afraid to admit that your plan was working. The box was a permanent reminder of your existence, something she couldn’t get herself to give away because of those dumb feelings she was experiencing. Somehow, she was holding on to that last piece of your years together after she threw away everything else with the help of the team.

The pictures, the clothes, the gifts, even your favorite cutlery has been burned a few days after you left them. It is almost as if you’ve never stepped a foot into the building, as if you’ve never existed. The woman was fine with the idea of pretending that nothing happened — She was fine with the idea of erasing every remaining part of your relationship.

Except that black box. It is stupid how she hangs onto that last proof of the relationship she once had with you. She had burned everything, but she couldn’t get herself to do the same with that gift. Maybe because she knew that she could never erase you completely from her life. She surely could pretend, it is a game she is really good at, but you would always be on the back of her mind because memories don't go away as easily as objects do.

Since she had opened the box, doubt had been creeping inside of her — What if? What if she has been wrong the whole time? What if she should have listened to you? Give you a second chance? That day, her reaction had been dictated by anger and hatred, feelings that still inhabit her soul, but have faded over the years. For two years, she had been sure that she made the right choice — At least, that’s what everyone kept telling the woman, and she listened to their comforting words.

But since she opened the box, she was no longer sure of anything. She wasn’t the one that wanted you gone in the first place. She surely needed a bit of space before being able to talk with you properly, but only a few days, maybe a few weeks, not two years, and definitely not more than that. That little box only worsened her doubt because who would be desperate enough to still cling to the person they betrayed, years after the events? A person truly in love. She had kept her doubts for herself before that day. If she is almost sure of the identity of the person who gave her the box, because there is only one person on that planet that cares enough to gift her something so meaningful, there are still a lot of questions to which she doesn’t have the answers — For example, how did you manage to sneak into the building without everyone knowing? She now knows that someone knew the whole time.

“Tell me,” she firmly asked the man, leaving little room for discussion.

No one pointed out the thing he has said about the mascot, the subject of the conversation quickly changed after that. Except, while they were talking about which flavor the cake should be, Natasha could think of nothing but Tony’s words — “She likes you too much to miss your birthday”, “she pretends it’s not true but I know she is lying.” So when everyone eventually decided to go back to their rooms, around two in the morning, she stayed a bit longer in the common room in hope of getting some information.

“Sorryy, I can’t, I don’t know anything,” the man replied, indifferent to her tone, “anything at all,” he repeated, chuckling like a child who has done something wrong. 

The woman sighs, pinching her nose as she takes a deep breath, trying to not lash out her frustration on the man. The conversation isn’t exactly going the way she had hoped, Tony refusing to answer her question no matter how many times she has already asked. She even tried to blackmail him, but he was persistent in pretending that he didn’t know anything. When he almost falls on the ground trying to get a few steps back, it has been the last straw for the woman. Gladly, someone entered the room before she could hit him so hard that it would have sobered him in an instant.

"Is everything okay?" the voice asked, and both of them immediately shut up to turn their heads toward the woman who just entered the room, Astrid. She is leaning in the doorway, her gaze alternating between Tony and Natasha.

She hates her. Not as much as she hates you, but she still feels resentful toward the agent. When she smiles, when she speaks, even when she is just here, existing, the woman can’t help but hate her from the depths of her heart. Gladly, she rarely sees her, as an agent of the S.H.I.E.L.D., she is only around when they have outstanding missions. If Natasha had a choice, she would’ve thrown her away with you that day. 

"She wants me to admit that her girlfriend was the one in the costume," he immediately replied, "but sshht, we can’t let her know that!" he added, holding his index finger in front of his mouth for a few seconds before leaving the room giggling. 

"I know what happened," she eventually said when she noticed that Natasha was about to leave after a few seconds when they glanced at each other in silence. "Th- That night, in the motel room~," she added, her voice being hesitant. Those words made the redhead stop in her tracks.

"If you're about to rub in my face how you've ruined my life, you can shut up," she immediately cut her, not wanting to listen to the woman, not if it’s to tell her about how she fucked the woman she loves. Her voice was full of anger, just like the murderous look in her eyes. The only thing that prevented the woman from immediately leaving the room was the thing she saw in the other’s eyes. Her attitude betrayed her emotions, a mix of guilt, sadness, and shame, which aroused her curiosity. 

With a nod, she ordered her to continue.

That morning, as many others, you are woken up by your girlfriend’s gentle touches, her fingers slowly tracing circles on your stomach. A hum of satisfaction escapes your lips before your turn around, nuzzling your head further into the crook of her neck.

How could you have known it would be the last time? How could you have possibly guessed that the routine you’ve got used to would be broken so quickly?

Every morning, it is the same thing, and while the former spy has no problems getting up early, you definitely can’t say the same for yourself. She is always awake before you are and, even if she had never admitted it, you are sure that she takes a few minutes to observe your sleeping form. She loves seeing you so peaceful and calm, being able to have a glimpse of your face without those worry lines, without the marks of your anxieties. 

She is always the one who wakes you up, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. There is no better way to start a day than Natasha’s sweet words and caresses. It’s her fault if you never want to get out of bed, wishing every morning that you could stay in that bed, next to her, for the rest of your life. Sometimes, you suggest that you tell the others you are sick, just to spend a day together, but she just laughs, dismissing your idea.

But all the good things must come to an end, right?

"It's time to get up, milaya," she softly said in your ear, her breath tickling your skin, "Astrid won't be happy if you are late again," she added when the only answer you gave her was a groan of discontent.

"They won't say anything if I am late once, it's okay", you mumbled, her words not being enough to convince you to leave the comfort of her arms. 

Especially when you realize that there is nothing to get excited about the day ahead of you, in perspective, only hours spent in an office, listening to men who think they know everything better than you do. Today, you are supposed to attend an important meeting alongside Astrid, and you still don’t know why you volunteered. The thought of the paperwork and the efforts that you will have to put in pretending that you are actually happy to be here definitely don’t worth your pay.

Except that you’ve lied to Natasha, and she knows it. This is definitely not the first time that you are being late, it happens almost every day, to the point that the day you are in time can probably be counted on your hands. Gladly, when you are coming in the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters, it's Astrid who’s your supervisor, and she appears to also be your best friend. Most of the time, she is kind enough to accept to close her eyes on your delays. Today, you came in only ten minutes late, and the woman was somehow impressed, expecting you to be later than that.

“You’re late, again,” she replied, obviously waiting for an excuse that you don't have. She would know if you are lying to her, and you don't have the energy for that kind of game today, and you could see that the woman neither. She was starting to get tired of every day starting with the same bullshit coming from your mouth.

“I am so, so, sorry,” you said to her for what may be the tenth time since you’ve entered the office. She is walking fast, and you are trying to catch up with the black-haired woman, who is also your superior within the S.H.I.E.L.D. “Please, don’t tell Fury,” you begged, but all she did was roll her eyes, and give you a file when you eventually reached her office. You quickly glanced at it before closing it again, your attention focused on the woman, “Astrid, I am serious. He is going to give me more paperwork if you do. Or worse. Imagine if he forces me to train the new recruits, you know I can’t do that again. Please, …,” you added, looking at her imploringly.

“And what do I have in exchange?” she sighed, turning around to look at you, one eyebrow raised. Despite her serious expression, you know she was trying to not laugh. She may be your boss, but above all she is your friend, and you both know that she would never tell Fury about your delays. Even if she has threatened you to do so a few times in the past, she has never actually done it. Yet, this time she felt like she needed something in exchange, she had covered for you enough time for free, and you were happy to thank your friend with whatever she may want.

“Anything you want!” you replied, desperate but no less honest. 

“Tonight, after work, you pay me a drink, deal?” she asked after pretending to think for a few seconds. In reality, she already knew what she wanted from you. She has thought about asking you out since the moment you met, something you’ve never noticed, always reducing her to the role of a friend, and not keeping up on the clues she was leaving you. Tonight, however, she will be clearer than she has ever been.

“Deal!” you immediately said, accepting the proposal without thinking twice about it. "Thank you. Thank you so, so much. You are the best," you added, kissing your friend on the cheek before leaving the room quickly, a sight that made the woman chuckle.

It is a deal that makes you both happy. You have met Astrid at the Academy, when you were both trainees that dreamed of joining the S.H.I.E.L.D. without even knowing if you were good enough for that. The two of you quickly became close — That’s the kind of thing that happens where you are the only two females of your promotion. Either you hate each other over your dead bodies, or you grow so close that you become inseparable. 

Except that, since you've both achieved your dreams and joined S.H.I.E.L.D, something changed in your relationship. It wasn’t your fault, nor hers, that you had less time to see each other, your jobs taking a lot of your time and energy. Then you've been assigned on a long-term mission with the Avengers, and you’ve spent less time at the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters despite still working for the organization. Then you've met Natasha, and you feel like you’ve slightly grown apart from each other after you’ve announced to her your new relationship. On the whole, you had less time to spend with your best friend, and the promises to make up for the lost time have never been kept, not until today. That deal was the perfect occasion to spend a bit of time together outside of the office work.

You both really hoped that this night would make things back as they were before.

"You know, I love her," she confessed to the redhead, her voice being barely louder than a whisper as she felt tears filling her eyes. "Since the day we met, I have loved her. That's what I told her, that night, when we went out," she admitted, and Natasha felt her heart pounding in her chest, her hands were shaking with apprehension, “but she rejected me. She loves you so much, too much," she sadly chuckled, but the redhead felt no relief when she heard those words because they were not explaining the pictures. She can't cry, not now, not in front of that woman.

"Continue," she ordered, feeling that the woman had more to say than that. She already knew that Astrid loved you, you may be the only one that hadn't seen it, or maybe you were pretending, or maybe you were blinded by your love for Natasha.

"I didn't plan to do that, you know," she started, carefully looking at the spy, "but I was so desperate that night, and I-," she said, except she was unable to finish her sentence, the words stuck in her throat.

The past three years, she had kept the truth a secret. At first, she thought it was better that way. The woman was ashamed of her actions, and she was relieved when heard that you’ve been transferred to another department, and she thought that her secret would be safe. Except that, if everyone acted as if you’ve never existed, her mind didn’t allow her to forget. Every hour of every day, you were in her mind, and the longer she thought about that night, the biggesther guilt became, until the burden was too heavy to bear. Tonight, hearing them argue about you, has been the last straw.

“What did you do?” she asked, sensing that something was wrong. She didn’t like the feeling that was creeping inside of her, “what. did. you. do.?” she asked once again, but more firmly that time, when the other didn’t immediately answer her question. As she saw the hesitation, she reduced the distance between them in a second, her hand gripping the collar of Astrid’s shirt that she pins to the wall abruptly, “tell me. Now,” she insisted as the interaction only reinforced the bad feeling she had.

That morning, unlike the others, you woke up alone. There haven’t been the gentle caresses of your girlfriend to wake you up, nor her sweet words to coax you into getting up. No, that day, it was only yourself, draped into the cold sheets, and it felt so strange, the silence and the loneliness of the room. Sadly, it has not been the exception you’ve wished it would be, but only the first of too many mornings like that.

In the sleepy state you were in, it took you a few seconds to realize that something was wrong, and almost a minute before you noticed that you weren’t home. You couldn’t even recognize the place you were in, only knowing that it looked like a hotel, a shitty one if you might say. The room was small, simple, and not-so-comfortable. There was something in the ambience that gave you an uneasy feeling about the whole thing, but you were unable to say what it was exactly.

Your head is throbbing, and you are definitely feeling nauseous, but you know that’s not the problem. Your physical distress isn’t the cause of the weight on your chest, the one that makes your breath aching, it’s something else that your mind can’t comprehend yet. It’s all these inconsistencies. The missing memories of last night, the unknown room, the fact that you are alone,... you don’t remember drinking that much last night. You may not be the most responsible person that planet has known, but you know how to handle yourself. Usually. 

Could you have possibly drunk that much? 

The day has barely started, but you already know it is going to be a rough one. If only you knew how right you were, maybe you would have taken a few more hours of sleep, enjoying the comfortable peace of your old life a bit longer before joining the chaos. Yet, you had no means to guess that your day would go that way. 

It's a note left on the bedside table that answered all your questions, easing some of the worries that were creeping inside of you. Someone has written the following words : “Couldn’t get you home because of how drunk you were. don’t worry about being late today, I won’t tell Fury. however, had to go on a mission, be careful when you go home. I left you a bit of money, it should be enough to pay for the room and an Uber. Love you.” The message might not have been signed, but you can easily recognize Astrid’s handwriting. A smile spreads across your lips as you are reassured, the situation not being as bad as your mind made it look.

Some memories of last night flew back in your mind, but it’s only a glimpse of what happened, a lot of the events staying unknown to yourself. The last thing you can remember is the conversation you had with Astrid, when she admitted that she loved you and you replied that you too, thinking she meant as friends because you couldn’t see her any other way, not when you were already engaged in a relationship. The rest of the exchange is confused, and you are not sure what’s real and what has been made up by alcohol. Even today, you are still not sure. 

Maybe you’ve really drunk too much that night.

Knowing that you’ve been with Astrid the whole time was reassuring, and you are no longer as bothered by the absence of memories. For a moment, you thought you'd been kidnapped by some weird man. As you regain your composure, your thoughts become clearer and you decide that the first thing you should do is to send a message to your girlfriend. She must be so worried, and your heart aches at the thought that you might be a source of problem for the woman you love.

It is not your kind to not keep your promises, and you’ve told her you would be home last night. It is not your kind either to not answer her messages or calls. In reality, you are quite the opposite, always sending her hundreds of messages when you are out with your friends. The only reason she hasn’t got after you is because she knew you were with Astrid, and she trusted you. However, the sweet messages are going to have to wait because, when you try to turn your phone on, you only encounter a black screen, a sign that you’ve run out of battery. Obviously, your friend didn’t think to leave you a charger.

You sigh, admitting your defeat. Shaking your phone surely won’t change the situation. For the moment, there is nothing more you can do, except hoping that Natasha won’t be too angry. As you are getting ready, your mind is focused on how to earn the redhead’s forgiveness — Maybe you could stop to buy her some flowers? You hate it, when the two of you are arguing. It doesn’t happen a lot, but it’s never pretty, and the mere thought that it might happen was already hurting.

As you definitely couldn’t go back to the compound by yourself, not knowing how far you were and being in a pitiful state, you decided to use the money left by Astrid to call a cab, as she instructed you to do. It’s not before you enter the car that you realize how late you actually were. It is almost one in the afternoon, and if you are not an early riser, like your girlfriend who is always up by six at the latest, you rarely get up after ten.

It has been a thirty minutes drive back to the compound, and the whole time you were thinking about two things: taking a shower, and leaning into your girlfriends’ arms. You are so exhausted, physically and mentally, that you’ve decided to skip work today — You were already so late that it wouldn’t make a big difference anyway. The journey was long, and those thirty minutes felt like hours. 

Soon enough, you started to suffocate into your own mind, then skin. You felt so sweaty, and dirty, that it quickly became unbearable. Maybe it was the effects of the alcohol, or maybe because you’ve slept in a seedy motel, but the only thing you wanted was to get rid of the clothes you were wearing and the uncomfortable state you were in as soon as possible.

When you enter the compound, you find it empty, and so is the room you are sharing with the woman. If you frown, you don’t think much about it. If the building is rarely empty, it sometimes happens when emergencies are called. A whine escapes your lips as you realize that, if it’s true, they are going to be mad at you for not being here when they needed it. You can already feel your mind losing itself to self-hatred thoughts, as you mutter to yourself how stupid you are. You are going to need more than a few flowers to earn their forgiveness. The fact that JARVIS confirmed that everyone was at the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s quarters didn’t, you would have preferred to hear that they went to the restaurant without you rather than that.

Tears brimming your eyes, you quickly put your phone to charge. It is only when you get out of the shower, twenty minutes later, that you saw the missed calls and messages from Natasha. The most recent ones were sent a few minutes ago. There were too many of them for you to take time to read everything so you just sent her a quick text that said: “sorry, my battery was dead, and I couldn’t answer your calls. I’ll explain everything, I promise. see you soon. love you.” A message she saw but she didn’t answer, which is unusual and an obvious hint of how angry she probably is.

Despite your decision to not work today, you still end up in the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters. You are almost running in the corridors, going to the meeting room where you find your girlfriend, and the rest of the Avengers. When you stumble into the room, a deadly silence descends. None of them greeted you, and the only reaction you got was Fury’s nod when you started mumbling excuses for your late arrival. While your eyes immediately landed on the redhead, she didn’t glance at you once of the entire meeting. The sight made your heart sink. You love her, but you have to admit that the spy is scary when she has that stern expression on her face, one that leaves no room for discussion.

The safest decision was to sit on the furthest chair, leaving her space until you get the opportunity to explain yourself. Something that you hadn't had a chance to do before a few more hours, when you stumbled into her in the corridors. You have been lost in your mind, having a hard time focusing on your work. Earlier, when the meeting ended, she immediately left the room, not leaving you a chance to exchange a word with her, and it has been bugging you since.

“Please, wait,” you said, already begging the woman. When she heard your voice, she stopped, allowing you to gently grab at her arm so she didn't go. She could, if she wanted to, and a part of her did want to run away, but the rest of her knows that this conversation can’t be avoided. “Listen, I- I am sorry,” you started once you were sure she was willing to listen to your excuses, “I should have warned you, but I couldn’t, my phone’s battery was dead and, and- honestly? I don't remember much of what happened last night. All I know is that once was enough. It won't happen again,” you chuckled sadly. When you woke up that morning, you promised to yourself that it was the last time you drank that much. A promise you kept, and three years later, you still haven’t touched a bottle of alcohol. “I promise, 'tasha. Please, don't be mad at me for that, or at least tell me how I can make up for my mistake,” you said, and the woman knew she had heard enough.

“Seriously?” she scoffed, breaking free of your grip. “I can’t believe you are that stupid,” she said, as she started to walk away. But if she didn’t want to hear the sound of your voice any more, you, however, weren’t done yet.

"I know I’ve made a mistake, but I am fine, isn’t it the most important?” you asked, starting to follow. Except that, when she heard your steps in her back, she accelerated her pace. “I promise to be more careful next time but, you know, I can handle myself for one night. Well, I might have drunk a bit too much, but Astrid was wi~,” you tried to explain, except she cut short your ramblings. To say, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but the woman quickly cut you. She scoffed again, in disbelief this time.

"You are really stupid, aren't you?” she said, stopping in her tracks, and you almost ran into her, surprised by her sudden stop. A few more seconds passed before she turned around to face you, her posture matching her stern expression. “Do you think I don't know what happened last night, with Astrid? Do you really think I wouldn’t have known the truth?” she added, taking a step forward for every question she asked, and you took one back every time, until your back hit the walls. You would certainly have found the situation hot if she didn’t look like she was about to murder you.

“W- what?” you said, “you are mad because I went out with a friend. That’s the problem? Astrid is the problem?" you snapped, starting to feel frustrated about the whole situation. 

You are tired, and the only thing you’ve wanted to do since you opened your eyes that morning — Throwing yourself in your girlfriend’s arms — was impossible to do. You hadn’t expected the woman to give you such a hard time. You knew she could be jealous sometimes, you’ve already had arguments about that in the past, but you’ve always been understanding because you know that her jealousy isn’t caused by a lack of trust. This feeling is fuelled by her own insecurities and past. Except that, that time, it was too much. The way she wouldn't listen to your excuses is seriously hitting on your nerves.

"Don't you dare to lie to me,” she said. For a moment, you thought she was going to hit you, but she took a step back before she could do that. She was angry too, taking deep breaths in an attempt to ease the feeling. “I trusted you,” she eventually added but her tone was different — The anger left her voice, replaced by pain. “I trusted you and, most importantly, I loved you,” she whispered, turning around to see you one last time. “After everything I have done for you, I can't believe that's how you are thanking me. You know, I really thought you were different, better," she laughed, trying very hard to not throw you against the walls or worse, to cry. The most insufferable was the look in your eyes, the false innocence. She was tired of pretending, she had given you enough chances to tell her the truth, “but you’re not,” but now, she was done trying.

That is the last time the two of you talked. The next time you’ve seen her, she hasn’t been kind enough to let you have a chance to explain things. She was done trying, and so were you. The last words she said are still ringing in your head, even years later. Maybe if you'd chased her once again that day, things would have ended differently, but you haven’t moved. You couldn’t, petrified by the conversation that just took place, you have just watched the redhead walking away without glancing back.

It’s only when you enter the break room that you understand the whole conversation you had with Natasha. No one was here, but the walls had been covered with pictures of yourself. At first, you thought it was a prank from your teammates’ but the pictures were all but innocent. You felt your heart sink when you took down one of the photos to get a closer look at it, and tears in your eyes when you realized that you were nude in those.

It was you, in bed, with Astrid. Your face doesn’t entirely show but you can easily recognize yourself and the bed you’ve woken up in that morning. There were dozens of different pictures, but all showed similar scenes: your bodies against each other as you are obviously sharing an intimate moment. Something that you should only share with one person on that Earth. A person that is definitely not Astrid. 

Except that the more you look at those pictures, the more foreign they feel. You are sure you are the one in the pictures, but you are still unable to remember what happened. Slowly, doubt creeps into your heart — Did you drink that much last night? 

So much that you betrayed the woman you swore to love until the sun dies? 

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. You are suddenly overwhelmed by a bunch of emotions that you can’t describe, but that are definitely not pleasant. It is a mix of confusion, anger, guilt, and disgust. The pictures speak for themselves, and they leave little room for doubt about what you were doing — And you were surely not just sleeping. The woman was on top of you, her mouth closed to your neck, maybe she was leaving soft kisses against your skin, maybe she was whispering sweet things in your ears, you don’t know. But the thing you were focused on was her hand hidden by the sheets, leaving only your imagination to complete the scene. It wasn’t the only picture of that kind: they were all picturing similar scenes. You can easily understand her rage and hatred earlier because you are now sharing those feelings with your girlfriend, just for different reasons.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" a voice said, pulling out of your mind. It was Astrid, who just entered the room. She glanced around before looking back at you, a sad smile spreading on her lips when she notices the tears that are soaking your face. and you saw Astrid entering the room. She looks around, a sorry look on her face. "I am sorry,” she started, and you could feel she was looking for the right thing to say, “I- I sent the pictures to the wrong person. When I realized, I tried to explain to Romanoff but, well… you know how she is,” she explained, shrugging as if she was trying to make you believe she had actually tried to, “she wouldn't listen to me, and they- they did that before I could stop them. It doesn’t please me either," she added, reminding you that you weren’t the only one suffering from the situation. Except she seemed to deal with the situation better than you do. As she talked, she slowly walked closer to you, accompanying each of her sentences with a few steps forward until she was close enough to wrap you in her arms. 

You didn’t get the energy to push her away.

"Did we.. ?" you asked, but your voice broke before you could finish your sentence. It felt too difficult to say those words out loud — “Did we hook up? Did I cheat on Natasha?” But the woman doesn’t need the words to be said, she seems to read in your mind the end of your sentence.

"Of course we did, what kind of question is that?" she replied, frowning. She seems to be surprised by your question. For a second, the hand that was slowly caressing the back of your head stopped. The woman pulled back a little, just so she could see your face. "Why? Do you regret it?" she asked, and for an instant she seemed to be genuinely worried about your reaction, "because you didn't seem to last night, when you cried my name,..." she whispered in your ear. You could feel her breath tickling your skin but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling, unlike when Natasha does it.

Everything felt so much. Her voice, her touch, her presence so close to you, was now unbearable. As she remembers the night you’ve spent, a soft smirk spreads on her lips, but you are definitely not sharing her feelings. “Of course we did.” The words loop back into your mind, it seeps in like a poison that quickly takes over your whole being. Soon, you are paralyzed by an awful feeling. It hurts, but at the same time you are not sure you are actually feeling something, your body and mind feeling so foreign to you — If you wanted it, why does it feel so wrong?

At that moment, if you had been able to move, you would have ripped your ears off just so you wouldn’t hear her voice any more, and maybe you would have done the same with your skin. It felt like the only way to get rid of your overwhelming feelings. Suddenly, the reassuring touch of your best friend made you feel gross, and so do her sweet words — But if she said that you did it, and wanted it, then it must be true, right?

You have seen the pictures, they are in your hands, right under your eyes. You can see yourself betraying the woman you love and in those, you really don't give the impression that you didn’t want to. On the contrary.

"No, no, it- it's not that, it’s just…," you eventually managed to say, but you are hesitating and unsure of yourself. There are too many thoughts and words clouding your head, so many ways you could react and yet, none of what you could say or do felt right. "It’s just that I don’t even remember last night,” you admitted, feeling ashamed about it, “I mean, did we- you know,... for real?" you asked softly but you were not even listening to Astrid’s answer, the question was more for yourself in reality. "Sorry, I have to go, see you later", you said, interrupting the woman. Somehow, you regained control over your body, just enough to push the other away and leave the room. You are not sure where you are going, but as far from that room as you can is already a good start.

That's where she found you when she came home that night, sitting on the bathroom's floor, the pictures in your hands.

Your hand is still wrapped tightly around the pictures, but you didn’t notice it. Not before being back home, in the room you are sharing with Natasha — Or were sharing, you thought, unsure about how the situation would unfold. It may be the last time you set a foot in that room that has been your safe place for months. Before you could completely break down, you decided to take a shower, thinking that, maybe, the steaming water would be enough to ease your mind. You took two showers. Then three, then four, and maybe more. You can’t be sure, you’ve stopped counting. All you knew was that it hasn’t been enough to get rid of the uneasy feelings and thoughts. You’ve scrubbed yourself until your skin was so sensitive that even the touch of the towel has been painful — But maybe you deserved it.

The rest of the day is a blur, and you are not sure what time it is. You’ve spent hours on the bathroom’s floor, your left hand clenched around the picture while the right one was holding the towel. Your head was so empty, but so full at the same time. That’s how she found you when she came home that night, and if she had been tempted to wrap you in her arms when she saw your pitiful state, the conversation she just had with the others discouraged her to do so — You didn’t deserve her pity. They are right when they say that you are not the victim: you are the one that cheated on her, and she needs to be firm, stern. You knew how hard it is for the woman to trust someone and yet, you still broke the fate she had put in you after years of making her dream of a better future.

"Oh, so you remember now?" she coldly said to you when she entered the room. You didn’t move, not even your eyes to look at her, but if you did, you would have seen that the woman was leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed. Maybe you would have also seen that her coldness was only a facade, and that she was as close as you were from breaking down. 

You stayed silent, unable to say anything. The words were stuck in your clenched throat, and they aren’t feeling right anyway — How could you defend yourself when you didn't even know what happened exactly? Plus, you weren’t even sure there was something to defend, the pictures speaking for themselves. Even when she started packing your belongings, you didn’t move. For you to move, she had to grab your arm and drag you all the way outside the Avengers’s building by herself. 

She needed you gone, and everyone agreed that it was only for the best. At least for a few weeks, just the time for things to calm down. That’s what she came to announce. The few words that left your mouth were useless, your pleas falling in deaf ears: the decision had already been made, and the sentence was irrevocable. The woman is done with your bullshit. She is done with you, and so you are.

"The pictures, they- they aren't real," she eventually admitted, her voice being barely louder than a whisper as she unburdens herself of this old secret. “I mean, th- they are, but it’s a staging. Nothing happened between us, she- hm, loves you too much to give you away,” she continued, tears filling her eyes as she talks, her voice wavering a little more with each word. "She isn't even conscious in these," she continued when the spy didn’t react. If the black-haired woman thought it was because the other was listening, it was because she didn’t know how to react.

The weight of what she had done left her shoulder, and it was now lingering in the room, where the air was suddenly thick, and almost unbreathable. Natasha felt a weight in her chest that made each breath harder than the previous one. Overcome by surprise, she had let go of the other, stepping back a few steps. Her thoughts were racing, numerous and contradictory, they weren’t coherent enough to allow how to respond in any way. She needed to do something, but she didn’t know what.

“I- I don’t know why I did that. It wasn’t me, that night, you know that, right? That I would usually never ever do something like that,” she started to defend herself when she saw the look on Natasha’s face, “I was so angry, and disappointed, when she refused. I have given her everything since we met, and yet you are the one she chose. I thought that, maybe, with a bit of time she would eventually realize her mistake, … but I was so wrong,” she sighed, and the redhead could see the remnants of that anger in her attitude. A clenching jaw and fists, accompanied with firm words that left no doubt about the resentment she held towards her, and towards you. “That night, I- I wasn’t myself. We’ve already had a few drinks and, you know, it doesn’t mix well with emotions,” she continued, and the woman could feel her anger rising with every word the other spoke. “All I could think about was getting revenge. I wanted to show her she was wrong, that I had so much more to offer than she thought. I wanted her to change her mind, to see me for more than just a friend,” she admitted, her voice being just a whisper as she says the last sentence. “I never thought it would end this way, I swear, you’ve to believe me, Natasha,” and to forgive me. She didn’t say the last words out loud, but she doesn’t need to, her eyes are speaking for herself.

Only, when her gaze met the redhead’s, she didn’t see in her eyes the compassion she had been expecting, only pure hatred, an emotion that had quickly replaced the initial surprise. Not even a word was addressed to her as the other left the room, leaving her alone to dry her tears.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

| Taglist — @cd-4848, @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite, @gemz5, @jusnough, @m0nsterqzzz, @marvelwomenarehot0, @mrsrushman, @riyaexee, @takeyaki, @taliiiaasteria.

[scarlethexelove]

Help Me Forget

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1841

Warnings: Talks of death, Not understanding emotions, depression, comfort, smut, Intersex!Natasha, P in V, soft sex, sex used as a distraction, Soft!Nat, Unprotected sex

A/n: So this was a request for someone going through a hard time. Hopefully this helps a little and you like it.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

You lay in bed because it is all you can think of doing. Not wanting to move from what little comfort you are getting from the blankets nestled around you. Your emotions are wildly all over the place and you don’t know how to feel. A numb feeling taking over but at the same time you want to cry. So you stay here unmoving curled up and hidden away. 

Natasha has been looking all around for you. Normally you always join her for breakfast after she has finished her workout. But as she entered the kitchen you weren’t to be found. She checks all the places that you would normally hang out but you weren’t in any of them. So she makes her way back to your shared bedroom. 

The door slowly creaked open as Nat made her way into the room. The door softly closed behind her. She can see your form on the bed, the slight rise and fall as you breathe. “Malyshka?” She calls out cautiously to you. When you don’t reply she gets closer to the bed checking to see if maybe you are asleep. You don’t move as she comes into view and she can now see that you're awake. 

Nat crouches down in front of you and she can see the distant look in your eyes as tears shine. “Detka what’s wrong?” Your eyes slowly drift to hers that are full of concern. Your lip trembles as the tears escape your eyes. Nat quickly slots in front of you on the tiniest part of the bed. Pulling you into her chest. Your tears soaking into the skin of her chest. She lets you cry, kissing the top of your head and whispering sweet words. It all feels too much in the moment. You pull back quickly wiping the fallen tears. “Sorry.” You mumble as you sit up and shuffle away letting her have more space. “Malyshka please what’s wrong?” She gently strokes your cheek. 

You don’t speak. It’s hard to find the words that you want to say. You feel so much comfort from Nat being there but you also feel so overwhelmed and somehow numb at the same time. It’s so confusing and jarring for you that you don’t know what to do or say. But Nat doesn’t push you. She continues to gently stroke your cheek with her thumb as you unconsciously nuzzle into her hand. 

“My friend died.” You mumble breaking the once silent room. “Oh malyshka, I’m so sorry.” Nat shuffles closer to you where you now sit in the middle of the bed. She hesitates for a moment wanting nothing more to pull you into her but not wanting to push you. “May I?” She questions. You nod letting yourself fall into her embrace. It comforts you that she is willing to check with you before pulling you in after not long ago pulling away. A few more tears prick your eyes. “I-I don’t know. S-She was just here and now. I don’t know how, how I’m… I’m sorry.” You cling to her tightly as she has her arms wrapped around you. 

“I know sweetheart.” Nat gently kisses your head and holds you tightly. “Everyone grieves in a different way. It’s okay not to know how to feel. Emotions are complex and take time to understand. And it’s okay if you don’t figure it out either. I will be here for you. I love you so much and anything you need from me I will be here to help. I love you more than anything in this world.” You let more tears slip as her words sink in. You don’t know how she knew what you couldn’t even say but she always does. She knows you better than you even know yourself. You don’t need to say thank you, she already knows just how much you appreciate her and all she does for you. It's a bond built on love, understanding, and communication that allows the unspoken words to be known between you. 

The room falls silent again as Nat comforts you. When you feel yourself calm you look up at Nat, her green eyes staring back at you with a soft smile playing on her lips. “Help me forget.” Your words are low. “What do you want me to do detka?” You place small kisses on her neck. “Please?” You whisper between light kisses. Your words sink in and she understands what you want, but she isn’t sure it’s a good time for this. “Are you sure?” She pulls you back and cups your face in her hands. You give her a small nod. “I don’t wanna think right now.” Nat nods. “Okay.” She pulls you in and kisses you. The kisses is soft and full of love. It’s nothing like how your normal kisses are. Less hungry for one another. 

As the kiss deepens you slowly roll onto your back as Nat follows leaning over you and propping herself up. Not breaking the kiss once in the process. When the need for air becomes apparent Nat pulls away leaning back. You try to chase after her a small whine leaving your lips. “Shhh detka. I’m not going anywhere.” You can see the growing bulge in her workout shorts. One of her hands goes to your hips and her finger hooks into the band of your sleep shorts. She silently asks for permission to take them off. You lift your hips which signals for her to pull them down. She pulls them completely off before throwing them off the bed. She follows by pulling her sports bra off. You sit up a little and take off the shirt you are wearing leaving you bare as Nat gets up to pull her shorts and boxers off. Her hardened cock springing free from their tight confines before she climbs back on the bed and hovers over you. 

“Are you sure about this?” Nat questions again want to make sure that you are one hundred percent on board with this. Your hand cups her cheek as you look deeply in her eyes. “I’m sure. I want to forget just for a little bit. I just want you.” She smiles at you and nods.”If you want me to stop at any time just tell me.” You nod and she  leans back down to kiss you again. It’s slow and passionate. Your arms wrap loosely around her neck as she presses her body into yours, keeping most of her weight off of you by holding herself up. You can feel her cock nudging close to where you want her. “Please.” You whimper. She pecks your lips. 

Nat moves her hand down holding herself up with her other arm. She lines herself up with your waiting entrance nudging lightly before slowly sinking in. The head of her cock stretches you open as it fully presses in. She moves her hand back beside your head leaning over you as she slowly sinks her full length inside of you. Your arms wrap back around her neck as your mouth opens slightly. A gasp escaping your lips when her hips meet yours. You let your legs wrap around her waist as she waits for you to adjust to the stretch. She leans down gently nipping and sucking at the skin of your neck. 

When you’re ready for her to move you grind into her. She smirks against your skin pulling her hips back before pushing back into you. It’s slow at first, almost too slow but she picks up the pace. But this time isn’t like others, she keeps it to a slower more sensual pace. It’s not about pounding you into the mattress, it is about love and comfort. 

Nat’s pace stays the same as she thrust into you. Small gasps and moans leave your lips as she continues. It’s like nothing you have felt before it’s not just fucking it is making love. It’s somehow exhilarating to feel all of her love for you in such a different way. Your legs pulling her closer begging to feel more of her, all of her.  She can feel it too. The difference in how your body is reacting to hers. Both of you becoming love drunk on one another. 

As Nat’s steady pace continues you can feel yourself getting closer. The knot in your stomach is growing and so is hers. You cup her face in your hands pulling her lips to yours and kissing her. Letting her slip her tongue in your mouth as she swallows your moans. Exploring each other's mouths with each passing second, so close to falling over the edge. 

Your walls grip her length as you grow near. Nat’s thrust becomes sloppy. You're both so close to the edge. The kiss becomes harder to maintain the closer you get. Nat breaks away burying her head in your neck as breathy moans escape your lips. She gently kisses your neck knowing you can’t hold on much longer with how hard you are sucking her in and she can’t hold out much longer. “Cum with me detka.” She mumbles against your skin. You don’t need to be told twice as you release on her cock. Your juices coating her length as she gently thrust a few more times before she paints your walls white. Your legs pull her as close as you can as she finishes. 

Nat slows her thrusts to help ride out both of your highs. Your chest heaves as you come down from your high and Nat’s thrusts come to a stop. She slowly pulls out of you. The mix of your juices leaking out as you whine at the loss. “Shh it’s ok sweetheart.” Nat kisses your head before she crawls off the bed. “I’ll be right back.” She tells you as she heads to the bathroom. She comes back out with a washcloth after having cleaned herself up a bit. She crawls back onto the bed and gently cleans you up making sure not to hurt you since you're still sensitive. She tosses the washcloth into the pile of clothes to clean up late before she lays down beside you. 

You cuddle up into Nat’s side, the closeness you can feel as your naked bodies come together is soothing. She wraps her arms around you tightly as you lay your head on her chest. “Thank you Natty.” You look up at her with your chin on her chest. She leans and kisses your forehead. “I would do anything for you detka.” You blush a little and smile. “I love you.” You say as you lay your head back down. “I love you too.” Nat leans back and pulls you that much closer to her. Things will still be hard but Nat will be there every step of the way. Making sure to help you navigate through your emotions and even provide a distraction at times. No matter what she is always there for you as you are for her.

[yameoto]

MCU ! bots wandanat who were my first foray into x reader.. this is for you.

wanda maximoff ✦ | mommy? ✧ | new avenger. natasha romanoff ✦ | not a babysitter. ✧ | stress relief. yelena belova ✦ | it was real (to me)

wanda + nat ★ | mommies.

!!!!! dedicated 2 the lovely @wandasfawn

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Can you write something like Evil Queens WandaNat x maid reader? Like reader is a new make and she’s kinda shy and quiet because she doesn’t wanna draw attention to herself, but she ends up doing that anyway when she manages to get out a really bad bloodstain out of the carpet (cause yk Wanda and Natasha did sum evil muahahaha- I’m sorry) Anyways, the maids usually have a hard time getting out blood stains which usually leads to them getting fired or uh- yk. But R caught their attention cause she could and was suddenly appointed as their personal maid and uh yeah you go wherever you want from there

Stains of the Heart

EvilQueens!WandaNat x Maid!Fem!Reader

Summary: Though you try to keep yourself hidden amongst the rest of the maids the Queens you work for take notice of you after being able to clean up properly after a mess they've made.

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, mentions of dark themes, mentions of blood, sexual themes

A/N: I feel like I could have made them more evil, but this is what came out as I wrote. These two took over~

The grand hall of the castle was eerily silent as the new maid, you, scurried about, nervously clutching your cleaning supplies. The atmosphere was thick with tension, an almost tangible sense of dread that had settled in ever since you had started working here. You were well aware of the fate of those who failed to meet the exacting standards of the castle's rulers, the formidable queens Wanda and Natasha.

You had heard the whispers among the other servants, the hushed tones speaking of what happened to those who displeased the queens. The stories were enough to make you keep your head down, blending into the background, hoping to avoid their notice.

Today was particularly nerve-wracking. A terrible incident had occurred the night before, leaving a significant bloodstain on the opulent carpet in one of the grand parlors. The maids who had tried to clean it before you had all failed, disappearing shortly after. You knew this was a test of your skills, one that could either secure your place in the castle or seal your doom.

With trembling hands, you set to work. You had always been meticulous, and today you put every bit of your knowledge to use. You mixed a special solution, carefully applying it to the stain. As you worked, you whispered a silent prayer, willing the stain to vanish.

Hours passed, but eventually, the carpet was spotless. You allowed yourself a small sigh of relief, barely daring to believe your success. You knew better than to draw attention to yourself, but as you packed up your supplies, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny spark of hope.

That hope was quickly dashed when you felt a presence behind you. Turning slowly, you found yourself face-to-face with Queen Wanda. Her piercing eyes seemed to bore into your soul, making you feel small and insignificant.

"What's your name?" she demanded, her voice smooth yet laced with an underlying threat.

"Y/N, Your Majesty," you replied, keeping your eyes downcast.

"You did this?" she asked, gesturing to the now pristine carpet.

"Yes, Your Majesty," you answered, your voice barely above a whisper.

She studied you for a moment, then nodded. "Impressive. Follow me."

Heart pounding, you followed her through the winding halls of the castle, eventually arriving at a grand chamber where Queen Natasha waited. Her eyes were just as intimidating as Wanda's, and you felt a shiver run down your spine under her scrutinizing gaze.

"This is the one?" Natasha asked, her voice cool and assessing.

"Yes," Wanda replied. "She has a talent."

Natasha approached you, her eyes never leaving yours. "We have a proposition for you," she said, her tone making it clear this was not a request. "You will become our personal maid. Fail us, and you know the consequences."

Your mind raced, but you knew there was only one answer. "Yes, Your Majesty," you agreed, bowing your head.

From that moment on, your life changed. You were no longer just another servant in the castle; you were under the direct scrutiny of the queens. They were demanding, their standards impossibly high, but you met each challenge with quiet determination.

As time passed, you learned more about them. Wanda, with her powerful presence and piercing gaze, and Natasha, with her calculating mind and cold demeanor. You discovered the complexities beneath their fierce exteriors, the reasons for their ruthlessness.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, you found yourself alone with Wanda. She seemed different, almost... softer. "You surprise me, Y/N," she said, her voice thoughtful. "Most would have faltered by now."

"I'm just doing my best, Your Majesty," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"And you do it well," she acknowledged, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

In that moment, you realized that perhaps there was more to your role than you had initially thought. Maybe, just maybe, you could find a place here, earn their trust, and uncover the secrets that lay beneath the surface of their reign.

But for now, you would continue to serve, keeping your head down, your skills sharp, and your heart guarded against the enigmatic allure of the evil queens.

--------------------

Your days as the personal maid to Queens Wanda and Natasha had settled into a demanding yet predictable rhythm. The queens were strict, their expectations high, and every task carried the weight of your continued survival. Yet, amidst the constant pressure, you had begun to notice subtle shifts, particularly in Wanda's behavior towards you.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, you were summoned to Wanda's private chambers. Your heart raced as you made your way through the dimly lit corridors, the flickering torchlight casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. You knocked softly on the heavy wooden door, waiting for her permission to enter.

"Come in," her voice called from inside, smooth and commanding.

You pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind you. Wanda was seated by the large window, her silhouette framed by the moonlight streaming in. She looked up as you entered, her expression unreadable.

"You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?" you asked, keeping your head slightly bowed in respect.

"Yes, Y/N," she replied, her tone softer than usual. "Come here."

You approached her cautiously, stopping a few feet away. She gestured for you to sit on the nearby cushioned chair, and you obeyed, sitting down with your hands clasped in your lap.

Wanda studied you for a moment, her eyes intense but not unkind. "You've been here for some time now," she began. "You've proven yourself capable, resourceful, and... loyal."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," you said quietly, unsure of where this conversation was leading.

She stood and moved closer to you, her presence both intimidating and strangely comforting. "Do you enjoy your work, Y/N?" she asked, her voice holding an unusual note of curiosity.

"I take pride in my work, Your Majesty," you replied carefully. "I strive to meet your expectations."

She reached out, gently lifting your chin so you were forced to meet her gaze. "You've exceeded them," she said softly, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You felt a blush creep up your neck at her touch, your heart pounding in your chest. "Thank you, Your Majesty," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda's expression softened further, and she smiled—a rare and breathtaking sight. "You've done more than just meet expectations, Y/N," she said. "You've caught my attention."

You blinked in surprise, not daring to believe what you were hearing. "I... I'm honored, Your Majesty."

She chuckled softly, her eyes never leaving yours. "You've been so quiet, so diligent," she said. "But I see you, Y/N. I see your strength, your determination. And I find myself... intrigued."

Her words left you speechless, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through you. Wanda's hand moved from your chin to your cheek, her touch warm and tender. "Do not fear me," she whispered, leaning in closer. "I do not intend to harm you. Quite the opposite."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "What do you intend, Your Majesty?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

She smiled again, her lips tantalizingly close to yours. "I intend to show you my favor," she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. "To reward your loyalty and dedication."

Before you could respond, she closed the distance between you, her lips capturing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you found yourself leaning into her, the world around you fading away.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were filled with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. "You are special, Y/N," she said quietly. "Remember that."

You nodded, still dazed from the kiss. "I will, Your Majesty."

Wanda's smile widened, and she gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "Good. Now, go and rest. You have earned it."

You rose to your feet, feeling a strange mix of emotions. As you left her chambers and made your way back to your quarters, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held. Wanda's affection was both a blessing and a danger, and you knew you would have to navigate it carefully.

But for now, you allowed yourself a small moment of happiness, the memory of her kiss lingering on your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

-----------------

The days following your intimate encounter with Queen Wanda were filled with a peculiar mixture of anxiety and anticipation. You carried on with your duties as usual, but there was an underlying tension in the air, a sense that something significant had shifted. Wanda's affectionate gaze lingered on you more often, and you couldn't help but wonder if others had noticed.

One afternoon, as you were meticulously arranging fresh flowers in the grand hall, you felt a presence behind you. Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with Queen Natasha. Her eyes were as cold and calculating as ever, but there was a new intensity in her gaze that made your pulse quicken.

"Y/N," she said, her voice low and authoritative. "Come with me."

Your heart pounded as you followed her through the labyrinthine corridors to a secluded study. Once inside, she closed the door with a quiet finality that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Sit," she commanded, pointing to a chair in front of a large, ornate desk.

You sat down, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, trying to steady your breathing. Natasha circled the desk and took a seat, her piercing eyes never leaving yours.

"I've noticed a change in Wanda," she began, her tone even but with an edge that made you nervous. "She seems... distracted. And I believe I know the reason why."

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. "Your Majesty, I—"

Natasha held up a hand, silencing you. "Do not lie to me, Y/N. I am well aware of the kiss."

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt a wave of panic. "I—"

"Do not be afraid," she said, leaning forward, her eyes narrowing. "I am not here to punish you. In fact, I have a proposition."

You blinked in surprise, the tension in the room thickening. "A proposition, Your Majesty?"

"Yes," Natasha replied, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper as she leaned closer. "Instead of simply being our maid, would you like to be our plaything?"

Your eyes widened, and your mind raced. The suggestion was both thrilling and terrifying. "Your Majesty, I—"

She reached out, taking your chin in her hand, her grip firm yet not painful. Her eyes bored into yours, making it clear that this was not a casual offer. "Wanda seems to have taken a liking to you that just won't go away," she continued. "And I will do whatever necessary to make her happy."

Her words sent a shiver through you, a mix of fear and desire coursing through your veins. How could you say no to them when everything about them made you want them? You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice.

"Of course, Your Majesty," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "It would be the highest of honors to serve you and Queen Wanda however you need."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Natasha's lips. "Good," she purred, releasing your chin and leaning back in her chair. "You will continue with your duties as usual, but you will also be available to us whenever we desire. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," you said, nodding.

Natasha's smile widened, a predatory glint in her eyes. "Very well. You may go."

You rose from your chair, bowing your head respectfully. As you turned to leave, Natasha's voice stopped you.

"And Y/N," she added, her tone almost teasing, "do not disappoint us."

You nodded once more, then quickly left the room, your mind spinning. The proposition was both a dangerous game and an intoxicating possibility. As you resumed your duties, you couldn't help but wonder how this new dynamic would unfold, and what it would mean for your place in the castle.

That night, as you lay in bed, you couldn't shake the feeling of Natasha's intense gaze and Wanda's tender kiss. The queens had ensnared you in their web, and there was no turning back. You only hoped you could navigate their desires and demands without losing yourself in the process.

---------------

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of intense and secretive encounters with the queens. Each interaction left you more entranced by their power and allure, yet there was always a lingering sense of danger. Wanda's tender kisses and Natasha's possessive touches had become a regular part of your life, blurring the lines between duty and desire. But until now, your encounters with them had remained separate.

Today was different.

You were summoned by Queen Wanda, a call that usually filled you with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Her affection was addictive, and you found yourself craving her attention more with each passing day. However, when you stepped into their private chambers, the sight that greeted you made your heart skip a beat.

Both queens were there, their regal clothes splattered with blood. Panic surged through you as you rushed over to them, your hands trembling as you cupped their cheeks, frantically checking for any cuts or stab wounds. To your immense relief, you found none.

"You're not hurt," you breathed, your voice filled with concern and confusion.

Natasha's grip on your wrist was sudden and firm, pulling you towards her. Her kiss was rough, almost punishing, and you found yourself melting into it despite the intensity. Her other hand tangled in your hair, holding you in place as her lips claimed yours. The taste of her was intoxicating, and you barely registered Wanda moving behind you until you felt her soft kisses trailing along your shoulders and neck.

Wanda's hands slipped around your waist, holding you gently but securely. Her lips and tongue worked their magic on your skin, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. You were caught between them, their combined presence overwhelming and exhilarating.

"Don't worry, my sweet," Wanda whispered against your neck, her breath warm and soothing. "The blood isn't ours."

Natasha broke the kiss, her eyes dark and filled with desire. "We had some... business to attend to," she explained, her voice low and seductive. "And now we want to attend to you."

Your mind swirled with a thousand thoughts, but all you could focus on was the sensation of their hands and lips on your body. Wanda's fingers traced patterns on your skin, while Natasha's grip tightened, a perfect balance of tenderness and dominance.

"You've been such a good girl," Wanda murmured, her voice like honey. "Always so eager to please us."

Natasha's lips curled into a predatory smile. "And now it's time for us to show you just how much we appreciate your devotion."

They guided you towards the large, luxurious bed, each movement coordinated and purposeful. As you lay down, Wanda climbed beside you, her hands never leaving your body. Natasha followed, her eyes never leaving yours as she leaned in for another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate.

Wanda's hands roamed over your torso, her touch gentle yet electrifying. "Relax, my darling," she cooed, her lips brushing against your ear. "Let us take care of you."

Natasha's hand slid under your shirt, her fingers tracing the outline of your bra. "You belong to us now," she whispered, her voice sending a thrill of excitement through you. "Body and soul."

Caught in their embrace, you felt a surge of emotions—fear, desire, love, and a deep-seated need to please them. You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "Yes, Your Majesties."

Their eyes gleamed with satisfaction at your submission. Together, they undressed you with a mix of urgency and reverence, their hands and mouths exploring every inch of your skin. The room was filled with the sound of your gasps and their murmured words of affection and desire.

Wanda's lips captured yours in a sweet, lingering kiss, her hand cradling your face as if you were the most precious thing in the world. "You're ours," she whispered against your lips.

Natasha's hands moved lower, eliciting a moan from you as she found your most sensitive spots. "Forever," she echoed, her voice a promise and a command.

In their arms, you felt a profound sense of belonging, a connection that went beyond mere physical attraction. They were your queens, and you were their treasured plaything, caught in a web of power, passion, and unspoken loyalty.

As the night wore on, you surrendered yourself completely to their touch, their love, and their power, knowing that you were exactly where you were meant to be—at the mercy of the queens who ruled your heart and soul.

@dorabledewdroop

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof

Summary: You're the only Avenger who sleeps in a cell. | Series Masterlist

Word count: 2.9k+ | Tags: Mild Angst, Fluff, Sharing A Bed, Enemies to Lovers

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Requested by anon:

could i maybe request wanda x r where the whole team kinda mistreats them and wanda is especially bad. & r saving wanda on a mission, with this: wanda: “How'd you know you were bulletproof?" r: "I didn't. I just knew that you weren't."

Author's note: Thank you to the anon who requested this :) Not sure if this is exactly how you wanted it, but I had fun writing the battle (my first time!) Hope you don't mind I took some liberties ;) Takes place before Civil War.

--

“You don’t have to be so mean to them,” Natasha tells her. 

Wanda's eyes narrow as she continues to fixate on you, her glare seemingly willing the daggers to find their mark. You can sense the energy of her powers tingling in the air, but she maintains control, stopping the daggers just short of their target.

“They need to know what they’re up against,” Wanda retorts, her accent slipping through in a rare moment. “If they’re going to be one of us, they have to prove themselves.”

Natasha moves to stand between you and Wanda, her body language calm but assertive. “They will, in time. But not like this.”

You can feel your heart pounding, but you refuse to let Wanda see any fear in your eyes. Your choice to leave your former life and join this team wasn't made lightly, and you won't be intimidated.

“I'm right here,” you say, stepping forward. “And I'm not going anywhere. If you want to test me, do it properly.”

Wanda smirks, and the daggers drop to the floor, clattering loudly in the silence. “Impressive,” she says, almost as an afterthought.

Steve Rogers, observing from the sidelines, steps in to defuse the situation. His authoritative presence commands respect, and his voice is steady and even. “That's enough for today. We're a team, and we need to start acting like one.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with understanding but also a hint of caution. “However,” he continues, his tone shifting, “You'll still be sleeping in the cells.”

Your heart plummets, each word from Steve feeling like a blade to your chest. Being sent back to that room, devoid of windows, with only a tiny bed and a comforter too thin to ward off the chill, feels like a betrayal every time. You've spent nights there, shivering and reflecting on your decision to join this team, yet still, you find yourself confined.

“After several months of captivity, even cooking your dinner, you still don't trust me?” you ask, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice.

Steve's expression softens, but his resolve remains firm. “It's not about trust,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of experience and pain. “We've been crossed so many times before, mostly by former HYDRA agents.”

Like you, he doesn’t need to say.

You understand the logic, but it doesn't make the reality any easier to swallow. The sense of being an outsider, the cold isolation of the cells—it wears on you.

Wanda, who had been silent up to this point, suddenly speaks up. “Maybe you should just leave then. If it's so unbearable, why stay?”

The room goes quiet. 

A thousand retorts spring to your mind, but you swallow them down, unwilling to escalate the situation further. The temptation to throw back that it's rich coming from her, considering she's also a former footsoldier of HYDRA, is strong, but you bite your tongue. 

You look at her, stunned by the bluntness of her suggestion, but also recognizing the challenge in her eyes. 

Her words strike deeper than she may realize. Leaving isn't an option you've entertained, mainly because there's nowhere for you to go. No one left in your life to turn to. This makeshift “family” despite their reservation and distance, is all you have.

-

The days that follow are marked by a subtle but relentless isolation. 

In the training room, Wanda's partnership becomes more aggressive than usual. Her powers lash out without warning, her critiques sharp and cutting. You hold your own, but the lack of camaraderie is palpable. Each comment she makes stings, and with every barb, you feel more and more alone.

At meal times, the rest of the Avengers seem to be in their own world, deep in conversation, sharing stories, laughing. You sit at the end of the table, your presence barely acknowledged, a shadow among them. Your attempts to join in are met with curt replies or indifference. You try to brush it off, believing that you should be used to rejection by now. But no matter how much you tell yourself that you're accustomed to it, that you've developed a thick skin, the pain is still there, raw and fresh.

Mission briefings are no better. Your opinions and insights are consistently overlooked. You contribute where you can, but your ideas are dismissed without consideration. You are a tool, a means to an end, not a part of the team. The realization gnaws at you, festering in the pit of your stomach.

Casual encounters with the team become equally disheartening. Tony passes you in the hallway without so much as a glance. Natasha avoids eye contact. Bruce mumbles something noncommittal when you try to engage him in conversation. Steve's assignments are devoid of the warmth or encouragement he shows to everyone else.

Your cell becomes a constant reminder of your status, metaphor for how the entire team treats you. 

You’re both just a weapon and a first-aid kit at their disposal.

Wanda is relentless, her words sharp and her gaze cold. You have no idea why she treats you worse than any of them, why her manner towards you has turned so hostile. You don't understand why you get under her skin without even trying, why she seems to target you with a venom that feels deeply personal.

You were expecting that Wanda would be the one to understand what it feels like to be an outsider, given that you both share a common history as former HYDRA agents. 

As the days turn into weeks, the isolation wears you down. The walls of your cell seem to close in, and a growing determination to prove yourself begins to take hold. 

You'll show them all that you're more than just a disposable weapon.

But underlying that determination is a gnawing doubt, a fear that no matter what you do, it will never be enough to earn their respect, their trust, or their friendship. It's a lonely road, and for the first time, you begin to wonder if Wanda's earlier suggestion might hold some truth.

Perhaps it would be easier to leave.

-

It’s not like you know the extent of your abilities, but they bring you along the most dangerous missions for one thing:

Your healing ability.

On top of your martial arts training, you provide a sense of security to your teammates, knowing that you'll be there to heal them if they get hurt.

Now, you find yourself on one such mission, infiltrating a den of underground supers. These aren't ordinary criminals; they're mercenaries hired to carry out the dirty work of high-ranking government officials. It's a treacherous job, one filled with unknown risks, and you've been paired with Wanda for the operation.

As you and Wanda are attempting to escape, things take a turn for the worse. You find yourselves cornered in an alley, your escape route cut off by a group of armed thugs and a few individuals displaying unnerving superpowers.

Wanda takes on those with special abilities, her eyes glowing red as she unleashes her powers in a flurry of attacks. You, on the other hand, focus on the armed assailants, wielding two-handed pistols with expert precision. Bullets fly, and bodies fall as you both fight for your lives.

But in the midst of the chaos, you notice something that sends a chill down your spine. Snipers, perched on a nearby rooftop, taking aim at Wanda. Even with your healing abilities, you know that a precise shot to the head would be fatal.

“Wanda, get down!” you shout, but she's too engrossed in her battle to hear you. Your mind races, knowing that you have only seconds to act. 

Without a second thought, you turn and run towards Wanda, your body moving on pure instinct. Bullets whiz by your ear, but you keep going, your focus solely on reaching her before it's too late.

You leap into the air, positioning yourself between Wanda and the snipers just as they pull the trigger. 

You hear the distant release of the bullet, muted but deadly.

The world seems to slow down as you brace for the impact, only to feel the bullets bounce off your skin.

You land, unscathed, your mind reeling from the realization that you're bulletproof. But there's no time to dwell on it.

Wanda looks at you, her eyes wide with shock but also gratitude. “How did you–”

“No time!” you cut her off, urging her to keep fighting. “We have to get out of here!”

Wanda's eyes flare with a vivid scarlet as she zeroes in on the snipers in the vicinity. With a flourish of her hands, she uses her powers to locate each of their positions. A pulse of energy emanates from her fingertips, reaching out to the snipers' weapons, and within moments, the firearms disintegrate into dust, leaving the men defenseless.

Seeing an opening, you reach for Wanda's arm, your grip firm but not rough. There's no time to waste, and you start pulling her towards the exit, half running, half dragging her to safety. Her breath is warm on your neck, her body close to yours, as you weave through the maze of alleyways, your heart pounding in your chest.

Once you're at a safe distance, Wanda turns to you. “How'd you know you were bulletproof?”

“I didn't,” you admit, still in disbelief, and much to Wanda’s horror that you almost got yourself killed for her sake. “I just knew you weren't. And if those bullets got to you, I wouldn't be able to heal someone who's already dead.”

Wanda stares at you, her eyes searching your face as if she's trying to see something… deeper. Her lips part, like she wants to say something more, something that's just on the tip of her tongue but won't come out.

That's when you realize that you're still holding her arm, your bodies so close that you can feel her heartbeat. A flush of embarrassment washes over you as you become aware of the intimate proximity. Wanda clears her throat, a delicate, almost shy sound, and you immediately let go of her arm.

The silence that follows your sudden step back is heavy and awkward. You can't help but glance at the spot where your hand had been moments ago, still feeling the ghostly sensation of her arm beneath your fingers.

You look at Wanda, and she's looking back at you, her eyes wide and filled with something you can't quite name. 

And then, without warning, Wanda starts to laugh.

It's a soft, bubbling sound at first, almost as if she's surprised by it herself. Her laughter grows, becoming louder and more contagious, and you can't help but stare at her, your mouth agape, wondering if she's lost her mind.

“What's so funny?” you finally manage to ask.

Wanda wipes a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “I was just thinking,” she says, her nose scrunching, something you haven’t seen on her and you find it quite… adorable. “You're like a shield now. As effective as Steve's vibranium one, maybe even more so.”

The absurdity of the statement causes you to finally join in her laugh, and your heart seems to flutter at the sound of Wanda's glee.

“I don't know about that,” you say, trying to sound modest but unable to keep the smile off your face. “Steve's shield has a bit more style.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Wanda teases, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “There's something quite stylish about being bulletproof. And practical too.”

Was that a compliment?

You shake your head, still smiling, your previous awkwardness forgotten. You're not only pleased at the first light banter you've shared with a teammate but also smiling at something else, something that stirs deep inside you and that you're not quite ready to confront.

Your crush on Wanda Maximoff.

-

The toll of the day's event is weighing down on you and Wanda, but like every mission, you're required to report the details of the mission–successful or not. Your muscles are sore, your mind is weary, but the mission was a success, and you can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

Arriving back at the Avengers compound, you follow Wanda into the debriefing room where Steve is waiting. Wanda explains what happened, how you discovered your newfound ability, and saved her life. Her voice is filled with respect and something more, something warmer, as she recounts your bravery.

Steve's face lights up with pride. “You both did well today. I'm proud of how you handled yourselves out there.”

You exchange a glance with Wanda, waiting for something more, perhaps some acknowledgment of your change in status within the team, or even an upgrade to your sleeping quarters. But instead, Steve simply nods, his face turning serious. “Dismissed.”

Wanda's face falls, and you feel a sharp pang of disappointment. You start to retreat towards your cell, the cold, windowless room that's been your home for months, but Wanda's voice stops you in your tracks.

“Wait a minute, Steve,” she protests. “After all that's happened, after all Y/N has done for us, don't you think it's time for a change? A real room, perhaps?”

Steve looks between you and Wanda. You hold your breath, hoping for a reprieve from the isolation you've been feeling.

Finally, Steve sighs, his face softening. “Wanda, if it were up to me, Y/N would have their own room already. But it's not that simple,” he explains, his voice strained. “I still need to place an official request with Tony. He's the one who approves these things.”

You can hear the frustration in Steve's voice, and you realize that he's fighting for you, in his own way.

“Fine,” Wanda says, crossing her arms. “But this needs to be done quickly, Steve. It's not right.”

“I agree. I'll talk to Tony first thing tomorrow.”

As you turn to leave and retreat back to your cell, Wanda's hand on your arm stops you, and you look back at her, surprised by the action.

“Come with me,” she says. Without another word, she leads you towards her quarters. 

Your heart quickens at her words, and you follow her, trying to process what's happening. 

Is she really inviting you to stay in her room?

Once inside her quarters, the reality of the situation sinks in, and a nervous tension takes hold. Her room is filled with personal touches–little trinkets, photographs, her clothes all over the place–that provide glimpses into a life you've only seen from a distance. You feel like an intruder, momentarily paralyzed as you take in the intimacy of her space.

Wanda seems to pick up on your hesitation, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. A smirk plays on her lips as she teases, “Don't look so terrified. I won't bite.”

You chuckle at her remark. “Well, that's a relief.”

Wanda's eyes sparkle with amusement, and she moves further into the room, gesturing for you to follow. “Make yourself at home,” she says. She then goes to the closet and begins to pull out a spare pillow and blanket. “You'll be staying here with me until we sort out a room for you,” she says.

“Thanks, Wanda,” you say softly.

Without further comment, you move to make your bed on the floor, your movements deliberate and slow as you try to give her space and respect her privacy.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks, her eyes widening as she realizes your intention.

“I'm just getting ready to sleep,” you explain, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I'm quite tired.”

“No, what are you doing on the floor?” she clarifies, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “You're sharing the bed with me.”

“I wouldn't want to impose,” you say, though the offer is tempting.

“You're not imposing,” Wanda assures you, her eyes sincere. “You've earned a proper bed, and I trust you.”

The word 'trust' hits you like a wave, and you feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes. 

Blinking them back, your voice cracks a little as you reply, “Thank you, Wanda. That means more to me than you know.”

“Good night, Y/N,” Wanda whispers, turning on her side to face you.

“Good night, Wanda,” you say, just as softly.

You both settle on the bed, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda uses her powers to switch off the light.

The softness of Wanda's bed is worlds away from the harsh, unforgiving mattress in your cell. You find yourself sinking into the plush comfort, every muscle in your body releasing the tension from the dangerous mission earlier. The scent of Wanda on the pillows only adds to the incomparable comfort they provide. The difference is staggering, and it contributes to you falling asleep much more quickly than you have in a long time.

In the middle of the night, you're stirred awake by the feeling of Wanda rolling closer to you. Her arm finds its way over your stomach, and her soft snores fill the room. Being ever alert, the small action wakes you, but as soon as you realize it's just Wanda, a smile forms on your face.

You lie there for a moment, taking in the warmth and the gentle pressure of her hand. A soft blush creeps up your cheeks as you place your hand over hers to keep it there.

You've become more than just teammates.

You've become friends.

And maybe, just maybe, something more.

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

How badly do you want to win

G!P Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Word count: 5.2k

Description is mostly in the screenshot of the request, so I'm gonna move on to the warnings ;) But also, OMG, I'm so excited about this fic! Thank you, nonnie, for sending this in! I loved it!

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, developing relationship, enemies to friends to lovers, G!P Wanda, Oral sex (both giving and receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, cum swallowing, some thigh fucking, shower sex... I think this might be it, but I could also be wrong.

Masterlist with all my works.

Wanda always thought that Natasha was beautiful. The way she wore her hair in a braid, the determined look in her eyes, whenever she played, the way her body moved and her muscles flexed. She was simply gorgeous. Way better than the rest of her team. And she knew it. She wore that confidence as she walked out on the court, when she played, when she practiced. It was that confidence that first captured Wanda’s attention.

It started as competitiveness, of course. Getting in each-other’s faces, a silent challenge and a glare in their eyes as they measured each-other. But there was more underneath that. Perhaps a kind of recognition of a kindred spirit. Or maybe it was the adrenaline and excitement of the game, but they always felt this pull towards each-other.

On her end, Natasha took one look at Wanda and she knew that she had met her match. Someone who could give as good as she got, not only on the court, but in life as well. The brunette had such intensity in her eyes, such passion… And on a closer look, perhaps a little secret too. At first Natasha thought she imagined it, the outline of a bulge in the other girl’s shorts, which seemed a little too loose, compared to everyone elses. But as time passed, Natasha knew it wasn’t just her imagination. Whenever she’d stand in front of Wanda, blocking her teammates from passing the ball to her, their bodies sometimes brushing against each-other, she could feel something there too and the thought excited her so much. Professional rivalry was one thing, but who said they couldn’t be something else outside the court?

Such an idea excited the redhead and as the championship approached, she started to go to some of Wanda’s games, waiting for the match to be over, lurking near the back exit, where the players left, so she could see her. She’d congratulate Wanda on a game well played, she’d sometimes tease her for missed opportunities… Then she started to get bolder, inviting Wanda for a game of pool, or ask her to go have coffee somewhere, offering for them to go out for a drink, just so she could spend more time with the girl.

At first, Wanda thought it was a trick, snappy responses leaving her lips easily. She thought it was some kind of mind game Natasha was playing, so she could distract Wanda, get under her skin perhaps. And at first she avoided the redhead, even if she was curious to spend time with her. But as time passed, Wanda decided that two can play such games and eventually she agreed and that night changed everything.

Wanda had a million ideas about how the night will go, but she certainly never expected to like the girl so much. They had so much in common. Both had competitive siblings and parents with high expectations, both felt the pressure of being the best… Both had that yearning for more than life had given them. So they bonded, mutual understanding growing into respect and a spark of desire that was simply undeniable. It didn’t happen in a day, it grew slowly, day after day.

They made it a tradition, having a day out after a game, talking about their teams and their hopes and dreams, growing much closer than they ever intended, their playful banter turning into flirting and teasing touches. When they couldn’t see each-other, they texted, smiling at their phones whenever they saw a new message from the other girl.  The air felt charged whenever they saw each-other and they brought the best out of the other. Whenever Wanda would see Natasha in the crowd of people during a match, she’d always play a little better, pushing herself to show that she’s the best, that she was deserving of the other girl’s attention. Natasha did the same. Her usual confidence was always cranked up to 11 when Wanda was there to see her play. She’d use more tricks than usual, she’d take more risks, in hopes of impressing her. And it worked. In Wanda’s eyes, she was the most spectacular player she’d ever seen.

For some reason they both agreed to keep it secret. Their teams were considered enemies, both fighting to win the same competition and the rest of the players simply wouldn’t understand. Perhaps very few would understand… But then again, perhaps that was just another thing that brought them closer together.

Then the championship came, the two teams won match after match, getting closer to a game when they would have to play against each-other and their fans were going crazy. All kinds of rumours were flying around, people hyping their favorite team, making banners, posting challenges online… It was almost too much. Their teams were getting eager too, their coaches adding more practice sessions in their schedules, all in the name of winning. But through it all, they had each-other, their connection growing stronger.

The night of the big game, Wanda felt restless. Tomorrow their teams would face each-other and she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus her thoughts, or make up her mind. She felt conflicted. She wanted to win, no she needed to win. But she didn’t want to do it by making Natasha and her team look bad. She was afraid that this game would change everything. That if her team won, she’ll never see Natasha again. But if her team lost, because of her… Her chances of a professional career would be over. Her parents would be disappointed, her team and couch would be devastated. Not to mention that she wouldn’t hear the end of it from Pietro. He already had a contract with one of the best teams in the country. If she didn’t do as well… Then what?

With a huff Wanda got out of her bed and dressed in a rush, silently sneaking out of her dorm and walked the familiar path to the gym, easily finding her way to the basketball court, picking up a ball and bouncing it against the floor aimlessly. She felt lost. But before she could let her thoughts spiral once again, her phone buzzed.

She opened her messages suspiciously, wondering who would text her so late, only to see it was from Natasha.

“I can’t sleep.” It read simply and Wanda smiled.

“Neither can I.” She responded. Then, an idea struck and she turned on the camera on her phone, snapping a quick picture of herself on the court.

She sent it quickly, before she had time to lose her nerve and she waited with bated breath for the other girl’s response.

“Stay there!” Is all she received, before Natasha went offline and Wanda smiled, pocketing her phone.

She played mindlessly, mostly trying to score from different positions and angles, practicing her 3-point shot, until the sound of nearby footsteps stopped her in her tracks and she turned to find Natasha behind her.

“Wanna play?” The redhead said simply, hands in her pockets.

“Why not.” Wanda shrugged, passing the ball to Natasha.

The redhead caught it easily, dribbling lazily as she got onto the court.

“Anxious about tomorrow?” She asked, still not really playing. Wanda only nodded. “So am I.” Natasha admitted with a serious expression, her actions pausing for a moment. Their eyes met briefly and the air suddenly felt charged, when Wanda spoke.

“Will you still be my friend?” Wanda asked suddenly. “If we win…” She clarified, her eyes down.

“Aren’t you cocky, Maximoff? What makes you think you’ll win?” Natasha countered playfully, starting up her dribbling again.

“You think you can take me?” Wanda asked, a challenge in her voice. She wasn’t sure she could win, they never actually played one on one before, but she never liked backing down. And besides, this would get her mind off things at least for a bit. “Let’s find out. Play.”

Their words faded after that, all their focus on the ball. They played with the same competitiveness they always brought to their games, each one leaning on her strengths, scoring again and again. In the end they were evenly matched, Natasha leading by just 1 point, when they fell to the floor, utterly exhausted.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Wanda finally said, when she was able to steady her breathing. She was lying on the floor, too tired to even sit. Natasha was the same, panting next to her in the middle of the court.

She regarded the brunette for a long moment, considering the question, memories shared between them flashing before her eyes. Natasha knew what the stakes were. For the both of them. But somewhere along the line, her priorities had shifted, her goals had changed and she knew that she saw so much more than a friend in Wanda’s eyes.

“Do you want to win?” Natasha asked, intentionally ignoring the question Wanda had asked.

“I’ve always wanted to win. Ever since I was a little girl. I’m just not sure that basketball is what I want to win at.” Wanda admitted. “But I don’t know what to do, who to be, if not this…” She continued sullenly.

“You have excellent grades, Wanda. I’m sure you didn’t just pick literature as your major, because you thought it would be easy…” Natasha pointed out. “So I’ll ask again. Do you want to win?”

“Do you?” Wanda countered, unsure how to answer this question.

“You know what I really want?” Natasha asked, straightening a bit and getting closer to the other girl. “I want to finish college, play basketball, I want to have a girlfriend and real friends, who like me for who I am, not my reputation. I wasn’t genuine relationships with real people…” She started, her eyes burning with passion. “At first, when I met you… All I wanted to do was win. Then I wanted to get to know you. And now that I have… Wanda Maximoff, what I want most is you. The more I got to know you, the more I’ve been wanting you. And tonight? It wasn’t thoughts of the game that kept me up. It was you.” She said as she stroked Wanda’s face, which seemed to grow serene at her words. “I don’t care who wins tomorrow… I want you. And I think…” Natasha paused for a moment, gathering her courage. “I think you want me too.” She said finally, forcing herself to look in Wanda’s eyes.

“I really do.” Wanda nodded, her voice wavering from the intensity of it all.

Hearing that was everything Natasha needed, before she leaned down, kissing the girl in front of her. She did it gently at first, just their lips brushing softly, giving Wanda a chance to catch up. Despite her usual confidence, the redhead felt exposed, felt vulnerable after everything she had said and even with Wanda’s confirmation, she still feared the other girl may push her away. But the brunette did no such thing. Her hand only cupped the back of Natasha’s head, pulling her closer, her mouth opening to let Natasha’s tongue inside.

The redhead took the hint, easily sliding on top of the other girl, straddling her things and leaning down to deepen their kiss, smirking when Wanda moaned from underneath her.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting to do that.” Wanda said suddenly. And she had. She’d thought about it for months now. Pictured what Natasha would be like, pinned underneath her, legs spread wide, taking all of her deep inside…

“As have I.” Natasha whispered in a sultry tone, grinding her hips against the girl underneath her and pulling her from her thoughts. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.” She confessed, leaning down to steal more kisses from Wanda’s lips.

They kissed like this, right there on the floor, until they were both panting, Natasha’s hips moving involuntarily against the brunette in a delicious rhythm that drove them both wild, feeling Wanda’s member harden underneath her, the outline of it impossible to hide now. She looked huge and so fucking ready and it made Natasha go wild with lust. That’s when the redhead started to sneak her hands underneath Wanda’s clothing, lifting the hem of her shirt, so she could trace her sides and the toned muscles of her stomach and smirking devilishly when the other girl moaned at the feeling.

“We shouldn’t do this here.” Wanda tried to object, even if her voice didn’t hold much resolve. She felt uneasy, being undressed in the middle of the court and she didn’t want anyone to see this moment between them. She wanted the other girl all to herself.

“Lockers?” Natasha suggested, happy to go anywhere as long as Wanda kept touching her like that.

“Showers.” Wanda panted, wrapping her arms around Natasha’s waist and getting up with her still in her arms, making her squeal in excitement.

She carried the redhead easily through the court and down the hall, into the locker rooms and then the showers, now dark from disuse. Wanda didn’t even need to look to find the light switch, pressing it, before she continued further inside, depositing Natasha on the edge of the row of sinks and settling between her legs.

Her hands explored the other girl’s body slowly, gliding down her shoulders and back as they kissed, pulling her impossibly closer to herself, their chest pressed together. All time had lost meaning to her. There was only this moment. Now. With Natasha in her arms. And it was heavenly.

“Take this off. I want to see you.” Natasha panted between kisses, taking hold of Wanda’s shirt and pulling it over her head, revealing a sports bra underneath.

The action was enough encouragement for the brunette to start undressing the other girl as well, pulling on her clothes and admiring her breasts, hidden in a lacy bra. God, Natasha was so beautiful. She had such delicious curves, it made Wanda’s mouth water.

Following Wanda’s gaze, Natasha only smirked, reaching back and unclasping her bra, dropping it dramatically and leaving her breasts exposed to the girl’s hungry stare.

“You’re so beautiful.” Wanda whispered, once again pulling Natasha in a heated kiss, her hands cupping the redhead’s breasts and massaging them gently. She rolled her nipples next, eliciting low moans from Natasha’s throat, feeling her fingers bury themselves in her hair, guiding her head down.

Wanda took the hint, eagerly leaning down to suck on Natasha’s erect nipples, swirling her tongue over them, one after the other.

“God, I want you.” Natasha gasped, loosing the last of her patience and pushing the brunette backwords.

Using the momentum, Natasha jumped down from her spot, stalking towards Wanda, before she started to pull on the rest of her clothes, removing her bra swiftly, having only a moment to admire the perfect breasts underneath, before reaching down to take off her shorts.

“Natasha, wait!” Wanda grabbed her wrists suddenly. “I have to tell you something…” She panted, her eyes drifting subconsciously to her member.

“Oh, I know!” Natasha smirked. “I felt it. And I think it’s really hot.” She said with a genuine smile on her face, which seemed to reassure Wanda a little. “But we don’t have to do anything…” Natasha continued, her hands running up and down Wanda’s arms reassuringly.

“I just never…” Wanda shook her head. “I mean… Not that way.” She said, unsure how to clarify what she meant.

She’d been with other girls before. Being the star of the basketball team, she never lacked attention. Girls liked to throw themselves at her all the time, but she never actually gathered the courage to fuck them the way she wanted. She didn’t know how to tell them, so she just never did. She never let them pull down her pants, or make her feel good. But she had plenty of practice, using her fingers and her tongue to make girls cum. Truthfully, she didn’t mind it that much. She loved bringing them pleasure, making them cum… She was good at it too and she knew it. But with Natasha. With her, what she used to do simply didn’t feel enough. She wanted to feel Natasha, wanted to experience her. All of her.

“We don’t have to, Wands.” Natasha shook her head, seemingly understanding. “We don’t have to, I promise. But if you want to… I want you to know that you’ll be safe with me.”

“Are you sure?” The brunette whispered shyly.

“Yes, I’m sure. I want to feel you, baby. I want to make you feel so good.” Natasha nodded, her eyes locking with Wanda’s and searching them for any sign of hesitation. “Will you let me make you feel good, honey?” She asked, her eyes attentive.

“Yes.” Wanda whispered eagerly, pulling the other girl in for another heated kiss. “Yes, please.” She gasped, when she felt Natasha’s hot hands on her body again.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Natasha smirked, pulling away just long enough to pull down her sweats and taking her panties with them, dropping the clothing on the floor.

When she was done, she stepped closer to Wanda, giving her a reassuring smile, before she kissed her again, hands gliding over every inch of exposed skin, until she felt the girl relax against her. That’s when she hooked her fingers in Wanda’s shorts, pausing briefly, before she started to pull them down, watching them pool around her ancles and helping the brunette to step out of them.

“You’re gorgeous, Wanda.” Natasha whispered against the girl’s lips. “Will you let me take these off too?” She asked, playing with the waist band of Wanda’s boxers, her hand slipping lower to cup her length.

“Yes. Take it off.” Wanda moaned, head falling back at the way Natasha’s fingers gripped her cock.

Natasha didn’t hesitate for a second, eagerly pulling the last bot of clothing from Wanda’s body, only to reveal her cock. She looked even bigger now, pink and girthy and painfully hard.

“Fuck you’re so big.” Natasha cursed, licking her lips at the sight of it. She doubted she could fit even half of it in her mouth, but she’d be a liar if she said she didn’t want to try.

Before she could make another move though, Wanda pulled her close again, stepping backwards and into the first stall she could find, turning on the water from the shower above as they kissed more.

It didn’t take long for the brunette to find her way down Natasha’s neck, peppering kisses and licking the length of it, before moving down, mouth latching on to one of her breasts again and sucking on the sensitive nipple, while her hands moved even lower, cupping Natasha’s ass and pulling her closer, keeping her waist in a tight hold, while her other hand found its way between Natasha’s legs, fingers running over her folds and feeling the wetness there.

“You’re so wet for me, baby.” Wanda gasped. She’d never felt someone get so wet for her. Natasha was practically dripping.

Before the redhead could respond, she felt Wanda’s fingers probe at her entrance, dragging her slick juices up to her clit and circling it in a slow motion.

“Inside. Wanda, want you inside me now.” Natasha gasped, guiding the other girl’s hand back to her entrance. “Stretch me out for you, baby. Stretch me for that big fucking cock.”

Just the words had Wanda’s cock throbbing and she hurried to do as she was told, her fingers slipping inside Natasha with ease, feeling her walls squeeze them in anticipation. Her lips followed the path of her hands, trailing kisses down Natasha’s belly, before they joined her efforts, eagerly attaching themselves around Natasha’s clit, so her tongue could swerve over it in circles.

“Oh my God!” Natasha gasped, burying her fingers in Wanda’s hair, pulling her closer, hips grinding against her face. “That feels so good.” She managed to say between moans. Her legs were shaking and she had to lean against the tiles just to keep herself upright, refusing to let Wanda go.

She was getting close embarrassingly quickly, but she didn’t care. Wanda’s fingers were curling inside her in just the right way and her tongue was swirling over that spot that made her see stars and it all made her feel so good.

“God, you’re gonna make me cum.” Natasha panted, briefly opening her eyes to see Wanda’s eager ones, staring right back at her.

“Cum for me.” Wanda detached herself just long enough to speak, before she was back at it again.

Natasha felt herself get even closer to the edge, the tidal wave of pleasure rising within her. She was so close. For a brief moment she felt suspended in time, her body riding the edge in the most delicious way possible, before she finally let go, the tidal wave of pleasure finally crashing over her. It felt so good, she could hardly contain the filthy moans that spilled from her lips, her hips grinding against Wanda’s mouth in search of more, wanting to prolong her pleasure, until she had no more left to give.

She sagged against the tiles, a grin forming on her lips as she pulled Wanda up and against herself, trying to catch her breath. She felt kisses on her face and neck, on her shoulders, Wanda’s arms running up and down her body in a soothing manner that made her wish they could have done this in a bed instead.

When she was able to recover, at least slightly, Natasha pulled the other girl for a kiss, tasting herself on her lips and loving it so much. She hadn’t tasted herself before and the filthiness of it excited her even more. But it was Wanda’s hard cock, pressed against her thigh, that finally brought her to reality. She felt so damn hard.

“Oh, honey…” Natasha gasped, hand reaching down to take hold of Wanda’s length, jerking her slowly. “I’ve been neglecting that poor cock…” She said with a trace of fake pity in her voice. “Let me make it up to you.” She suggested, grabbing Wanda and spinning her around, until she landed against the tiles, taking Natasha’s previous spot.

Wanda’s cock throbbed in Natasha’s hand and the girl couldn’t resist any more. She dropped to her knees quickly, her hand still moving up and down in a teasingly slow motion. Damn, that thing looked even bigger up close. But that only made it more enticing for Natasha and she opened her mouth, licking a long line from the base of Wanda’s cock, all the way to her tip. It made the brunette moan so wantonly.

“You make such pretty sounds and I’ve barely touched it.” Natasha said teasingly. “I wonder what you’ll sound like if I do this…” She continued, her eyes glinting with mischief and amusement, when she leaned down again and wrapped her lips around Wanda’s tip, giving it a long, wet kiss.

“Fuck!” Wanda hissed, hands clenching into fists, holding back the urge to grab Natasha by the hair and make her suck it for real.

Natasha did it a few more times, swirling her tongue over Wanda’s cock-head and giving it slow, wet kisses that drove the brunette crazy, before she finally relented, taking more of it in her mouth and sucking lightly, while her hand jerked the rest of it in a steady rhythm.

“Don’t hold back, baby.” Natasha whispered. “Show me what you want.”

And it was all it took, to make Wanda snap, hand flying to Natasha’s hair, holding her in a firm grip as she started to guide her up and down her length. She tried to be gentle with the redhead, pulling back when she felt her tip reaching that soft spot on the back of her throat. Even like this, Natasha’s mouth felt divine. Much better than Wanda’s own hand ever did and she knew she wouldn’t last long.

“Nat… Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” She tried to warn, hands releasing Natasha’s hair, so she could move away, but the girl did no such thing.

“Don’t you dare waste it, baby. I want to taste you.” Natasha said in a low voice, pulling away just long enough to say the words, before her mouth was back on Wanda’s cock, taking it as deep as she could without gaging.

And that’s all it took for Wanda to cum. Curses spilled from her mouth as rope after rope of cum shot from her tip, gathering on Natasha’s awaiting tongue. Nothing had ever felt better than this and Wanda allowed herself to enjoy every second of it, hips stuttering with every new wave of pleasure that she felt.

When she was finally spent, she managed to open her eyes just in time to see Natasha pull away, her lips closing as she swallowed it all down with a grin that made Wanda weak in the knees.

“I can’t believe you just did that.” She panted, her cock starting to harden again at the thought alone.

“What can I say… You taste so damn good.” Natasha smirked and it made Wanda want to wipe that smug smile off her face.

She pulled Natasha in for a kiss then, hands landing on her ass, so she could keep her close, pulling one of the redhead’s hips around her waist and feeling the slick heat of her pussy rub against her cock. Damn, that girl was driving her crazy.

“I want to be inside you.” Wanda whispered between kisses, pausing to look in Natasha’s eyes, making sure that it was ok.

“So take me.” Natasha smiled warmly. “You can do whatever you want to me.” She said, hands gently cupping the other girl’s face.

Their foreheads touched for a moment, eyes closing to savour the intimacy of it. They kissed, lips moving slowly, tongues brushing against each-other in a slow dance as the warm water cascaded down their bodies, until they couldn’t take the anticipation any longer.

Wanda’s hand reached between their bodies then, taking her cock in her hand and giving it a few slow strokes, letting the tip of it rub against Natasha’s wet entrance. She tried to prepare herself for the moment she’d slip inside, but nothing could prepare her for the way Natasha felt around her. She was so warm, her slick walls pulling Wanda in deeper, spasming around her in a way so blissful, she could hardly contain herself.

“Fuck, you’re so tight!” Wanda gasped, trying to steady her breathing.

“And you’re so damn big, baby. Such a big fucking cock.” Natasha rasped, eyes rolling to the back of her head at the feeling of being so full.

Wanda waited a moment, letting the redhead adjust to the feeling of her, before her hips started to move. Gently rocking back and forth at first, holding Natasha soothingly in her embrace. Then her pace started to quicken, the feeling of Natasha’s tight pussy too overwhelming to stop.

She flipped them easily, pressing Natasha’s front to the tiles of the shower stall and positioning herself behind her, strong hands taking hold of Natasha’s hips, her cock entering the redhead once again with a deep thrust that had Natasha moaning in pure extasy.

“Fuck! Just like that!” Natasha panted, her mouth opening in a soundless moan as Wanda started to fuck her with deep, steady thrusts. She could feel Wanda’s cock sheathe itself fully inside her with every thrust of the girl’s hips, making her see stars.

“You feel so good.” Wanda panted behind her, head falling on Nat’s shoulder and giving it a few gentle kisses.  

It took everything in Wanda to keep herself from loosing control. She’d never felt anything like this before, she never even dared to imagine it could ever be this good and even though she had orgasmed just minutes before, she was desperate to cum again. She wanted to fill Natasha up with her cum, claim her as her own for good, she wanted to bury herself inside her and never pull out.

With a steadying breath, Wanda pressed herself even closer to Nat’s back, one hand on the wall to steady her, while the other circled Natasha’s hips and found its way between her legs, fingers probing between her folds and finding her clit, so she could play with it in steady circles.

“God, Wanda!” The redhead panted, pressing herself into Wanda’s warm body. She was getting close and she wanted to come surrounded by Wanda in every way. “Fuck, I’m close. Don’t stop, please.” She almost mewled, desperate to reach her high.

“I’ve got you, Nat.” The brunette whispered softly. “I’ve got you and I won’t let you go.” She promised. “Come for me, pretty girl. Show me how good I’m making you feel.” She encouraged, even if she was dangerously close to letting go herself.

With a cry and a harsh thrust from Wanda’s hips, Natasha came, hands flying to keep the brunette from moving, wanting to feel every inch of her cock buried deep inside her as she felt the best orgasm of her life. Her walls spasming around Wanda’s cock as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. She could feel the pleasure of it spread over her entire body, making her feel almost weightless and she braced herself on the wall.

When she was done, she almost whined at the feeling of Wanda pulling out and she guided the girl closer to herself again, placing her cock between her thighs, letting her length rub against her sensitive pussy, as she started to move back and forth.

“Nat! Baby, I’m gonna cum!” Wanda warned, both her hands now braced on the tiles, while Natasha milked her cock between her thighs.

“Go ahead.” Natasha panted, movements speeding up.

In just a few seconds Wanda let go, spurts of white shooting out of her cock and smearing over Natasha’s thighs and between her legs, painting her skin in sticky cum.

When it was over, they both chuckled, looking at each-other with excitement and tender love. They embraced gently, letting the warm water wash their bodies as the stood there in peaceful bliss.

“I don’t care about what happens tomorrow.” Natasha finally spoke. “I only care about you.”

“You know… I don’t even know why I play anymore… I guess it’s just what people expect of me…” Wanda admitted. “My parents, my brother, my coach, my team… That’s what they all want from me.”

“I fucking hate your team.” Natasha said, pulling Wanda even closer. “But I love you, Wands. So, whatever happens, I want you to know that you have me. And I support you, ok? If you want to play, I’ll practice with you every day. And if you want to quit and do something with that literature major then, I’ll be there too. You have me. Some stupid game is never gonna change that.”

“You love me?” Wanda asked, pulling her head away from Natasha’s chest, so she could look at her.

“That’s what you took from that whole speech?” Natasha pushed Wanda playfully, only to have the brunette snuggle back into her.

“I love you too.” Wanda said, as she nestled her head in the crook of Natasha’s neck, knowing that whatever happened tomorrow, everything was going to be all right.

[caws5749]

Hi, can you do nat x reader? Reader can walk through walls so the avengers hired her because she can be an asset to the group. What she's not telling them is she could see the red string of fate. She sees tony is connected to pepper, scott is connected to hope and etc. But she couldn't see hers that is until she met natasha

A/N: this is such an absolutely beautiful idea and I am so honored to be able to write this, this genuinely may be one of my favorite requests I have ever received

The music provided the perfect ambience for the scene. It was loud enough to be heard and felt, but quiet enough for conversations to be had. Voices came from every direction, some laughs floated above. The party was your first since joining the Avengers team.

You let your eyes wander about the room as you sat on the couch. Red, faint, glowing strings could be seen about the room. Some connected to another person at the party; some went out the window.

Your heart warmed seeing Tony and Pepper, their strings relatively short given the closeness between the two as they shared a private conversation. A smile tugged at your lips as your gaze fell to Hope and Scott. They were a bit further apart, their string a bit longer, glowing brightly under the lights. When they shared a loving look, you couldn't help but feel hopeful about your own life.

You couldn't see your string, you couldn't see your fate. But you could see everybody else's. Well, not everyone had one. Some people just didn't have someone they were to end up with. Some people's person wasn't here anymore, as sad as it was. Steve didn't have a string, but you knew at one point he certainly had. Natasha didn't have a string either. You weren't quite sure why. Perhaps she had had someone and they were here no longer. Or maybe she just didn't have someone and never would. Perhaps she wanted that. Perhaps she didn't.

You hadn't actually met the red-head yet. When you'd joined, she'd been gone on a mission and was supposed to return this evening. Perhaps you'd finally get to meet her. You found that she was often on your mind, for a reason you still hadn't figured out. It just seemed that no matter what you did, Natasha Romanoff was there.

But your ability to see that fate of lovers wasn't even why you were on the team. In fact, the team had no idea about that little gift at all.

You'd been hired for quite a different skill-set, one that even you couldn't quite seem to figure out why it happened. While it seemed odd to say, you could walk through walls, something that was incredibly useful for mission. You and Vision shared that little gift, and once it became apparent you could fight and were easy to train, they were happy to have you on the team. It helped that you often knew just how to pressure certain adversaries, possibly because you could see who they were connected to. You could see their weakness, as much as you hated to exploit it.

"There she is!" Clint's slightly intoxicated voice rose above the rest. You quickly looked in the direction of the doors, eyes going wide. Natasha Romanoff stood in the doorway, smirking slightly at her best friend, donning a skin tight black dress. She was practically glowing.

She moved into the room, her hips swaying. She seemed to move in slow motion. Her eyes quickly swept across the room, starting at the opposite side of the room and moving towards you. The Widow stopped in her tracks as her emerald eyes met yours. Her smile faltered, brief shock and an unknown emotion flickering across her face.

You felt a sort of pull, a tug and you looked down to see a red string emerge from your chest. You watched as it lengthened and met another string. Your breath caught as you saw that string had come from her. And while she had been practically glowing before, she was actually glowing now, a soft red hue surrounding her silhouette.

"Nat!" Clint yelled. She ignored him.

You stood from the couch and she switched her direction to you. You met in the middle.

"I'm Natasha. Why haven't I met you before?" she questioned softly.

"I'm Y/N. I just joined."

She hummed and tilted her head. You could tell she couldn't quite tell what was going on.

"Why do I feel... drawn to you?" You couldn't decipher if she had asked that rhetorically.

"It's a long story," you murmured. She quirked an eyebrow.

"I've got all night."

[romugh]

IN HER REFLECTION- nerd!NR

pairing- nerd!natasha romanoff x reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, sub!bottom!natasha, fingering, mirror sex, liiiight choking, strap (n rcv), heavy praise kink!!, slight degradation if you squint i guess, natty in subspace!

wc- almost 10k of pure smut? sorry?

a/n- got inspired by a request! and then my brain did something weird and suddenly there's 7k words about natasha taking a strap, but that's not on me. not. on. me. blame the anon! (loved writing your request, feel free to send some more in x)

request- forcing nerdy!nat to look at herself on the mirror while you make her sit on your lap and finger her.

synopsis- natasha had been a brat, so you treat her like one, exploring her desires as she confronts herself in the mirror.

taglist- @esposadejoyhuerta, @lost-mortemanghel - comment or dm if you'd like to be added x

It wasn’t just today that had you on edge. Natasha had been bratting out in the most subtle, infuriating ways for days now, but today she had taken it to another level. She knew exactly how to toe the line—pretending to be her usual innocent, shy self—while leaving just enough doubt in your mind to make you question whether or not she was pushing you intentionally.

The text messages were what really started it.

You’d been in class, trying to focus on a lecture, when the first one came in. It was simple enough: “Hope your class is going well ;)”—completely harmless, right? But you couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to it, especially when you opened it and saw the little winking emoji she’d added at the end. That wink, so out of character for her, made you pause. You stared at your phone, trying to decide whether or not you were imagining things. Natasha didn’t usually send flirty texts, let alone ones with winking emojis.

You could already feel the flicker of heat in your chest, but you pushed it aside and ignored the message, hoping it was just an innocent mistake.

Except it didn’t stop there.

Three hours later, another text came through: “I keep thinking about you today. Can’t focus on anything else.”

And this time, it wasn’t so easy to brush off. Her words were vague enough to be taken as sweet, but your gut told you there was more to it. You could almost imagine her saying those words, the way her voice might sound just a little breathless as she admitted it.

By the third class, you were struggling to concentrate. The way Natasha kept popping into your mind, her texts leaving you on edge, had you feeling more than just a little distracted.

As soon as the lecture ended and you stepped out of the classroom, your phone rang. Natasha.

You picked up, trying to keep your voice casual. “Hey, Natty. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice soft and shy, but there was something else. A breathlessness. Like she was slightly out of breath. “I was just thinking about you.”

Again, it sounded innocent enough, but the timing, the tone… something about it felt deliberate.

You frowned, trying to make sense of it. "Are you sure you're okay? You’ve been really... attentive today."

“I just miss you,” she murmured, her voice carrying that same soft, almost innocent tone. But underneath it, you could sense that there was more she wasn’t saying.

There was a slight pause on the line, and for a moment, you thought you heard her inhale sharply, like she was trying to catch her breath. It made your pulse spike, sending a ripple of heat through you. You didn’t ask, but the thought crossed your mind—was she…?

No. Natasha was too innocent for that. You knew she wouldn’t touch herself without you.

Still, the way she’d sounded out of breath left you imagining all sorts of scenarios, ones you tried to push away as you focused on getting through the rest of the day.

By the time you got home, her teasing texts and those breathy phone calls had simmered inside you, leaving you wound tight. She was fully aware of her actions, even though she acted like she wasn’t. The winks, the subtle innuendos, the way she kept thinking about you and calling you after every class—it was all part of her game.

And now, here she was, sitting at your dining table, acting like the same sweet, innocent nerd who couldn’t possibly have done anything wrong. Her head tilted slightly as she studied you, still feigning innocence, but there was that glimmer in her eyes, that hint of mischief that sent a fresh surge of frustration through you.

“What’s wrong?” she asked again, her voice sweet but clearly baiting you, her lips curling into the faintest smirk. “Did I do something?”

You exhaled sharply, narrowing your eyes at her. “Don’t play dumb, Natty. You know exactly what you’ve been doing all day.”

She blinked up at you, a blush warming her cheeks, but she didn’t deny it. Instead, she held your gaze, biting her lip as if struggling to suppress a smile, that bratty confidence shining through.

You moved closer, standing directly in front of her now, crossing your arms as you stared down at her. “The texts, the calls… were you just trying to mess with me?”

Her breath hitched slightly, the blush spreading across her cheeks. “I-I wasn’t trying to—”

“Don’t lie,” you interrupted, your tone firm. You leaned in, placing your hands on the arms of her chair, caging her in. “You’ve been bratting out all day, trying to get a reaction. Haven’t you?”

Her eyes widened for a moment, her bravado faltering just slightly. But then, after a beat of silence, she bit her lip and nodded.

“Maybe a little,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but the admission was clear.

You could feel your pulse quicken, the tension between you crackling like electricity. You knew she was doing this on purpose, trying to push your buttons, trying to test you. But now? Now she was going to find out exactly what happens when she pushes too far.

“You like pushing me, don’t you?” you asked, your voice low and dangerous, watching as her blush deepened even further.

Natasha squirmed slightly in her seat, clearly flustered, but she didn’t look away. “I-I like it when you… when you pay attention to me,” she admitted softly, her voice filled with nervousness and excitement.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a smirk. “Oh, you have my attention, alright.” You let your hand move to her chin, tilting her head up so she was forced to keep looking at you. “But if you want to keep bratting out, then you’d better be ready to handle what comes next.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her wide eyes locking onto yours. You could see the anticipation swirling there, her nervousness mixing with anticipation as she realised what was about to happen.

“Stand up,” you commanded, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Natasha quickly obeyed, her body trembling slightly as she rose to her feet, her gaze never leaving yours. You could see the flush creeping down her neck, and you knew that under her composed exterior, she was just as affected as you were.

You moved behind her, placing your hands on her shoulders and guiding her toward the mirror on the far wall of the room. She looked confused for a moment, but she didn’t resist.

You positioned her in front of the mirror, your body pressing close to hers from behind, your hands slowly sliding down her arms as you leaned in close to her ear.

“Look at yourself, Natty,” you whispered, your voice low and commanding. “Look at how flushed you are. How much you’ve been teasing me today.”

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her eyes fixed on her reflection as you stood behind her, the tension between you thick in the air. She could see it herself too now—the bratty smirk gone, replaced with the vulnerable, needy expression you knew she’d been hiding all day.

“You think you’re so innocent,” you murmured, your hands moving down to rest on her hips. “But you’re not. You’ve been begging for this all day.”

Natasha let out a shaky breath, her eyes flickering between the mirror and the floor, her body trembling under your touch.

“I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, but you did,” you interrupted, your tone soft but firm. “And now, you’re going to take the consequences.” -

You sit on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror in your bedroom with Natasha in your lap. Her back is resting against your front, her body snug against yours. She’s still wearing her panties and your oversized shirt—one she had been using as pyjamas, soft and far too big for her. The image of her in it, slightly dishevelled, only adds to the intimacy of the moment.

She had undressed you earlier, her hands tentative but eager, slowly pulling off each piece of clothing until you were left bare. Her fingers had lingered on your skin, tracing over your chest, arms, and thighs with a delicate touch, as if still unsure of her own boldness. Now, the warmth of her bare back pressing against your chest feels both grounding and electrifying.

The oversized shirt hangs loosely off her shoulders, the fabric falling down past her thighs, barely covering anything. Her skin glows in the dim light of the room, and the way her chest rises and falls with each shallow breath betrays the nerves bubbling inside her. You can feel her heartbeat thudding softly against your chest, her anticipation palpable.

With one hand resting on her waist, you reach for the hem of the shirt. Your fingers brush lightly against her skin, and you feel the shiver that runs down her spine. "Let’s get rid of this," you murmur softly into her ear. She tenses for a moment, but she doesn’t object, only nodding slightly in agreement.

You tug the shirt upwards, brushing it over her shoulders and guiding her arms out of the sleeves. Her skin is warm beneath your touch, and when the shirt is finally discarded, it leaves her sitting there in nothing but her panties, vulnerable and exposed in the dim light of the room.

The soft blush on her cheeks deepens, her eyes glancing away from the mirror in front of you as she tries to hide her embarrassment. But there’s no hiding now—not when you’re both like this.

"Look at yourself," you say gently, your voice soft but firm. Your fingers lift her chin, tilting her head slightly so she’s forced to meet her own reflection in the mirror. Her wide eyes flicker nervously, trying to focus on anything but the image staring back at her. But you don’t let her turn away.

"Look at how beautiful you are," you continue, your hand sliding down her bare stomach, feeling the soft skin beneath your fingertips. She trembles slightly, her body pressing further into you for comfort. The sight of her like this—vulnerable, unsure, and so soft—makes your heart ache with affection.

Her breathing hitches as your hand travels lower, tracing over the waistband of her panties. She’s already wet—you can feel it through the fabric—and the knowledge sends a thrill down your spine. You slide your hand under the waistband, teasing her with the lightest of touches.

"You’re already so wet for me," you murmur, pressing a finger against her slick entrance. Natasha gasps softly, her body jerking in your lap. Her hips shift instinctively, trying to push against your hand, but you hold her steady.

"Keep looking," you remind her, tilting her chin up again as you tear her panties away with a swift motion, leaving her exposed to the mirror. "I want you to watch every second."

Her breath comes in soft, shaky pants as you slide a single finger inside her. Her walls flutter around you, the slick heat welcoming your touch, but she’s so tight, so sensitive. She bites her lip, trying to stifle the whimper that escapes her, but you catch it anyway.

"Tell me how it feels," you coax her gently, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

"It feels… good," she whispers, her voice trembling. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes half-lidded as she watches the reflection of herself in your lap, back pressed against you, utterly at your mercy. She’s barely holding on to her own control, the sensation already overwhelming her.

You add another finger, stretching her slightly, and her body tenses. She lets out a soft moan, her head falling back against your shoulder as you continue to move inside her. The wet sounds of your fingers sliding in and out of her fill the room, and her reflection shudders at the sound. Her hips rock involuntarily against your hand, desperate for more friction.

"Look at yourself," you whisper again, your voice a mix of command and praise. "Look at how beautiful you are when you’re falling apart so fast."

Natasha’s eyes flutter open, her gaze locking onto the reflection, and the sight makes her blush even deeper. She watches herself being fingered, cheeks flushed, lips parted as soft gasps fall from her mouth. She’s trembling in your lap already, her hips moving slightly, but she’s still shy, still struggling to meet her own gaze.

"Don’t hide from me," you murmur, curling your fingers inside her, causing her to whimper. "I want to see you, hear you. I want you to see yourself."

Her chest rises sharply as the pleasure builds, and her body reacts to every small movement of your hand. The intensity of it is written all over her face—her soft moans, the way her legs tremble in your lap, the way she tries so hard to maintain her composure but can’t.

You pick up the pace, curling your fingers just right, and Natasha’s breath hitches. Her hips jerk forward, her body writhing as the pleasure starts to take over. She’s close now, her walls tightening around your fingers, her moans growing louder as her body shudders in your arms.

"That’s it," you praise softly. "You’re doing so well."

It doesn’t take long before Natasha falls apart completely. Her orgasm hits her in waves, her body trembling violently as she gasps for air, her reflection a beautiful, trembling mess. Her walls clamp down on your fingers, and she lets out a loud moan, unable to hold back any longer. You keep your pace steady, letting her ride out the full extent of her climax.

"Good girl," you whisper, kissing her temple as she leans back against you, her body spent. "You’re so perfect."

For a moment, you think she might be done, her breathing heavy and her body limp against yours. But then, she surprises you.

"I want more," she whispers breathlessly, her voice barely audible. There’s a neediness to her tone, a desperation for something deeper, more intense.

You pull your fingers out slowly, watching as her body twitches at the sudden emptiness. She’s still trembling, her slick heat clinging to your fingers. "Are you sure?" you ask, your voice gentle but firm, wanting to be absolutely certain.

Natasha nods, biting her lip as she gazes at you in the mirror, cheeks flushed and eyes still glassy from her orgasm. You position three fingers at her entrance, and her breath catches in her throat. She’s never taken that much before, and the nervousness is evident in her expression. But she trusts you—completely.

With slow, deliberate movements, you push three fingers inside her, feeling the stretch and the tightness as she struggles to take all of you. Natasha lets out a sharp gasp, her body tensing, but you’re patient, whispering soothing words of encouragement into her ear.

"Just breathe," you murmur, one hand resting on her waist to ground her. "You’re doing so well, Natty."

Gradually, her body adjusts to the stretch, and the burn begins to melt into pleasure. She’s panting now, her walls fluttering around your fingers as she finally takes all three. Her hips begin to move again, her body seeking out the pleasure despite the overwhelming sensation of being stretched so deliciously. The sensation is intoxicating, and she could easily get addicted to it—the way her pussy clenches around you, taking you in, while she watches herself in the mirror, captivated by the sight.

"That’s it," you praise, your voice low and soothing as you curl your fingers inside her. Natasha’s moans grow louder, her hips rocking against your hand as she loses herself in the pleasure, her reflection shaking and flushed with arousal.

Natasha’s hips move restlessly, grinding down onto your hand as her breath comes in shallow gasps. Her body feels like it’s on fire—every nerve alight with the intense pleasure that your fingers are pulling from her. She’s still trembling, her chest rising and falling erratically as she fights to stay grounded, but it’s slipping away from her with every passing second.

The mirror reflects everything—her flushed face, the way her thighs quiver, craving more of you, even though there’s nothing more to take. Her body tightens and relaxes, caught in a desperate struggle to maintain control over herself. But she’s slipping. She’s losing herself in you, in the way you fill her completely, in the overwhelming need that her body can’t seem to satiate.

Her thoughts blur, everything hazy and distant except for the overwhelming need that pulses through her. There’s no space for anything but the intense sensations, the pleasure so deep and raw it’s almost painful. Her mind can’t focus on anything but the feel of your fingers inside her, the way they stretch her, fill her, the pressure growing until it’s too much.

“I-I can’t—" Natasha gasps, her voice trembling as she tries to form a coherent sentence, but she can’t finish it. Her head falls back against your shoulder, her eyes slipping shut as her body jerks again, a sharp moan escaping her lips.

"You can," you murmur softly, your free hand sliding up to caress her thigh, your voice gentle yet firm. "You’re doing so well, Natty. Just breathe. Let go. I’ve got you."

Her breath catches at your words, the praise hitting her in a way that makes her twitch even more. It’s as if every word of encouragement digs deeper into her mind, making her desperate to please you. She wants to take more, to be good for you, to show you just how much she can handle, how much she needs you.

Her hips jerk forward again, her body trying to pull you even deeper, but it’s still not enough. It’s never enough.

"I want to... please you," Natasha whispers, her voice breathy and weak, barely audible above her own moans. Her fingers clench at the sheets, her body trembling uncontrollably as she rocks back against you, but she’s so far gone that she’s not even sure of what she’s asking anymore.

"You are pleasing me," you whisper, lips brushing against the soft skin of her neck. "You’re perfect, princess. You’re everything I want."

Her breath hitches, her heart pounding as she hears your words, and she can’t help the soft whimper that escapes her. The praise makes her head spin, makes her want more, makes her want to be everything for you.

As you worked her open, the world around you faded into a blur. Natasha’s breathy whimpers filled the space between you, mixing with the steady rhythm of your fingers. The burn and stretch she felt was becoming a delicious ache, one that ignited something deeper within her.

“Just a little more,” you coaxed, your voice a low murmur as you continued to move inside her. “You’re doing so well, Natty.” The praise slipped from your lips like honey, sweet and thick, wrapping around her as she began to surrender to the sensations.

With a deep inhale, Natasha’s eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment, the tension in her body dissolved completely. She began to rock her hips, slowly at first, testing the waters, but soon it transformed into something more urgent, more desperate. You could feel the weight of her trust, a gift that was both intoxicating and thrilling.

Then, without warning, she surprised you. Natasha shifted her weight, driving your fingers deeper inside her as she began to ride them, her movements instinctive, almost primal. The way her body responded to you was mesmerising. Each rise and fall was a dance, her movements fluid and graceful, yet filled with an undeniable hunger.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, utterly captivated by the sight before you. The way she looked, the way she felt—it was overwhelming. The flush of her cheeks deepened, a beautiful shade of crimson, contrasting against the gentle curves of her body. Her eyes, once filled with uncertainty, now sparkled with a wild abandon that made your heart race.

With every thrust of her hips, you could feel the warmth of her surrounding your fingers, enveloping them in a slick, delicious heat. The way she took you deeper, riding your fingers like she was trying to chase down that elusive high—it sent a surge of primal instinct through you. You wanted to guide her, to push her further, but she was taking the lead, and you were powerless to stop it.

“Natasha,” you murmured, your voice thick with desire. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

At your words, her eyes snapped open, locking onto yours in the mirror. There was a glint of something—was it pure submission?—in her gaze that sent a shiver down your spine. She looked so captivating, the way her body moved in tandem with your fingers, her breasts rising and falling with each breath, the soft swell visible through her shirt. You could feel your pulse quicken, blood rushing to your ears as the sight of her lost in pleasure ignited a fire within you.

“Does it feel good?” you asked, wanting to hear her voice, to feel her pleasure wrap around you like a warm embrace.

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice a breathless whisper. “So good.”

You could see the way her body tensed, the slight tremors that coursed through her as she adjusted to the rhythm. The way she leaned backward, pressing her back into your front, gave you an even better view of your fingers disappearing into her. Her sweat clung to her skin, highlighting the curves you wanted to worship.

“Just like that, Natty. You’re perfect.”

Her breath hitched at your words, and she pushed her hips down harder, eager to feel you filling her. Each time your fingers brushed against that sweet spot deep inside her, she gasped, the sound filled with pure ecstasy. The way she rode you, her body moving with both urgency and grace, was hypnotising. She wanted more, her mind hazy from the pleasure, she needed more.

“Look at yourself,” you urged, your voice low and sultry. “Look at how you’re losing yourself in this. How beautiful you are.”

As she gazed into the mirror, you saw a flicker of vulnerability, mixed with a newfound confidence. The tension in her body began to shift, the way she moved becoming more fluid, more assured. The flush on her cheeks deepened, and her mouth fell open in a long moan, the sound reverberating in the silence of the room.

“I—oh God,” she stuttered, her body beginning to tremble as you curled your fingers, hitting that sweet spot again and again. “I can’t… Please–I need more.”

“It’s  okay,” you reassured her, your voice steady, not knowing just how serious she was. “Just let go. Trust me, Natty.”

And as if your words had cast a spell, she surrendered completely. You could see it in her eyes—the moment she slipped into subspace. The tension that had held her so tightly began to unravel, the trust she placed in you lifting her higher than she’s ever been before.

“Please,” she begged, her voice thick with need. “I want more.”

You felt a surge of pride, knowing that you were the one to take her there, to help her explore these depths. “You want more, huh?” you teased lightly, relishing in the power dynamic that flowed between you.

“Yes,” she gasped, her hips working furiously against your hand, every movement driven by instinct. The way her body tightened around you, her walls squeezing your fingers, made your breath hitch in your throat.

“Such a good girl for me,” you praised, watching as her eyes fluttered closed once more, a blissful expression painting her features. The way she was losing herself, riding your fingers with reckless abandon, filled you with an overwhelming need to see her reach her peak.

“Keep going, Natty. I want to see you come undone,” you encouraged, your voice dropping to a low, sultry whisper that wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

With each thrust, you felt her teetering on the edge, her body trembling with pleasure. “I’m so close,” she panted, her voice shaking with need.

“Let go for me,” you urged, your fingers never faltering, coaxing her closer to that precipice. “You can do it. I’m right here.”

In that moment, you felt her walls tighten one last time, her body quaking as she finally surrendered to the waves of pleasure crashing over her. “I—oh God!” she cried, the sound filled with pure bliss as she fell over the edge.

As her orgasm washed over her, you could see the way her body tensed and relaxed, the euphoric release igniting every nerve ending. You held her tightly, guiding her through it, feeling every pulse, every quiver as she rode out the waves of ecstasy.

Natasha was deep in subspace, the remnants of her first orgasm still coursing through her like a gentle wave. Her breaths were slow and steady, but the way she clung to you—her fingers gripping your arms tightly—betrayed the excitement bubbling beneath her surface. She was in a world all her own, a place where she felt safe, vulnerable, and strangely empowered.

You watched her through the mirror, captivated by the way her expression shifted from blissful surrender to a shy longing. Her cheeks were still flushed, and her eyes sparkled with something you recognized as desire, but there was a hesitation there, too. It was a mix of trust and uncertainty, and it only made you want her more.

“Can I…?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a shy eagerness. “Can I have your cock?”

The request sent a thrill through you. “You want my strap?” you asked, your voice low and teasing. You were ready to give her anything, but you wanted to draw out the moment, to enjoy this shift in power dynamics.

“Y-Yeah,” she stammered, biting her lip, her innocence suddenly seeming more pronounced in the heat of the moment. “Please?”

You nodded, a grin spreading across your face. “Alright. Just let me choose one for you.” You reached for the drawer to your left, excitement bubbling in your chest as you pulled out various options. As you displayed them, you couldn’t help but notice the way Natasha’s eyes widened and her breath quickened.

But when you picked up one of the smaller straps, she shook her head vigorously. “No! I want the biggest one.”

Your brows shot up in surprise. “The biggest one? Are you sure about that?” You hadn’t even used it before—it was something your friends had gifted you as a joke, but here was Natasha, deep in subspace and adamant about wanting it.

“I’m sure,” she insisted, her voice a mixture of shyness and determination, almost as if she was testing the boundaries of her own desires. The way she bit her lip again, uncertainty creeping into her gaze, made your heart race. “Please.”

You couldn’t resist her. There was something so endearing about her shy insistence, her innocence shining through even as she pushed her own limits. “Alright, then. It’s in the other drawer, baby. But you have to promise me you’ll tell me if it’s too much.”

“Promise,” she replied, her gaze unwavering, the trust in her eyes melting any reservations you had.

With a nod, she hopped off your lap, her legs slightly wobbly but her determination shining through. She moved to the drawer, reaching inside to retrieve the oversized strap. You couldn’t help but admire the way she handled it, her shyness somehow making her seem even more alluring.

When she returned, her cheeks were bright red, and her hands trembled slightly as she held the strap. “I want it,” she stated, her voice firm but still laced with a hint of innocence. You could see how deep into the mindset she was, yet her shyness made this moment feel even more intimate.

“Alright, sweetheart,” you said softly, your voice reassuring as you got up. “But let’s take it slow. I want you to enjoy every moment.”

After you had stepped into the harness and adjusted the 12-inch strap, you moved toward the bed, but Natasha lingered behind, not immediately following. Her blush deepened as she stood by the mirror, her gaze falling shyly before she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, “Can you... take me where I can see myself?”

Her words caught you off guard, but the longing in her eyes made your chest tighten. “Are you sure?” you asked softly, needing to ensure she was comfortable with what she was asking.

She nodded, her eyes flicking between you and the mirror. “I’m sure,” she breathed, her lips parting with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

You smiled, nodding as you guided her back to your previous position. Natasha settled onto your lap again, shifting just a bit higher onto your abs, her back pressed against your chest while the strap nestled against her stomach. The strap was secured snugly to your hips, its impressive length and girth nearly brushing her navel when she sat up straight. The sight alone made your pulse quicken, but you couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be able to take it all.

You rested your hands on her waist, offering a gentle squeeze. “Let’s go slow, okay?” you murmured, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

She bit her lip nervously, her eyes wide with both eagerness and hesitation as she moved up, situated herself and began to lower herself back down. The tip of the strap nudged against her entrance, and she let out a soft gasp, her thighs trembling with the effort.

“Relax, Nat,” you whispered, guiding her down slowly. “Breathe.”

She nodded, exhaling shakily as she sank down a little more, the stretch becoming apparent as she took in the first few inches. Her brow furrowed, her body tensing as she tried to adjust to the sensation. “It’s... it’s so big,” she stammered, her voice laced with both excitement and uncertainty.

“I know, sweetheart,” you reassured her, your hands steady on her waist. “You don’t have to take it all at once. Just take what you can.”

Natasha’s breath hitched as she lowered herself a bit more, her body stretching around the strap. The burn of the stretch was evident in the way her thighs quivered and her soft whimpers filled the air. She could barely take a quarter of it, and even then, she paused, her chest heaving with effort. The sheer girth of the strap made it appear enormous, and you were astonished she was able to take this much of you.

“You’re doing so well, Natty,” you praised, your voice gentle but filled with pride. “You don’t have to rush. You’re perfect like this.”

She exhaled slowly, nodding as she leaned back against you. “It feels... different,” she murmured, her hands gripping your arms for support. “But I like it. I just... I want to take more.”

Your breath caught at her words. “You will,” you said softly, brushing your lips against her shoulder. “But let’s go at your pace.”

For a few moments, she stayed there, hovering on the strap, her body adjusting to the stretch. The sight of her reflection in the mirror—her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, the way her body clung to the strap—was almost too much to handle. But you stayed focused, rubbing gentle circles into her hips to keep her grounded.

Then, as if something shifted in her, Natasha began to move again, slowly lowering herself down further. Inch by inch, she took more of you, her body trembling with the effort but her determination unwavering. You could feel her pulse around you, the heat of her arousal making every movement slicker, easier. Still, she hadn’t taken it all—just over halfway—and the sight of the strap glistening as it nestled within her was mesmerising. The sight of her slick coating the parts she hadn’t taken yet had you hypnotised, utterly drunk on desire.

“I... I can feel it,” she whimpered, her voice breathy and thick with pleasure. “I think I can take more.”

“You’re doing so well,” you murmured against her ear, your hands holding her steady as she tried to sink lower. “Just like that, Natty. You’re amazing.”

Time seemed to blur as she kept moving, her breath ragged, her movements tentative but eager. And then, after a while, you realised Natasha had been taking more and more of you. Your eyes flicked to the mirror, watching in awe as the strap slowly disappeared into her, the stretch making her body quiver with every inch.

She still hadn’t taken it all—just a quarter left—but the sight of her reflection, of how much of you was inside her, made your control slip.

“God, look at you,” you breathed, unable to hold back. Your hands slid from her waist, moving upwards to cup her breasts, kneading them gently as she moaned under your touch. “You’re so beautiful, Natty. Taking me so well.”

Her breath hitched as you massaged her breasts, her nipples hardening against your palms. “I... I’m trying so hard,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “I want to take it all... I want to please you.”

“You are,” you reassured her, your fingers teasing her nipples as you pressed your hips up slightly, deepening the stretch. “You’re doing so good, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, her body melting into your touch. She leaned back into your chest, her head resting on your shoulder as she focused on the sensation of you filling her up. The praise made her moan, her thighs shaking as she tried to sink down even further.

“Just a little more,” you coaxed, your voice husky. “You’ve got this. You’re perfect.”

Your gaze wandered back to the mirror, entranced by the image of Natasha’s flushed, needy expression and the reflection of your bodies joined together. But then something else caught your eye—a bulge pressing against her lower stomach. It was the outline of the strap inside her, stretching her so much that it was visible through her skin.

The sight made your breath catch, something primal snapping inside you. You hadn’t even realised how far you’d pushed her, how deep the strap had gone until you saw that bulge—and it ignited a fire in you that was impossible to contain.

Your grip on her breasts tightened momentarily, then slid down to her waist again. Natasha let out a soft gasp of confusion as your hands left her chest, only to clamp down firmly on her hips, pulling her down onto you in one swift, overwhelming motion.

Her eyes flew open, a sharp cry escaping her lips as her body was forced to take the rest of the strap all at once. The sheer girth stretched her impossibly wide, her thighs trembling violently as you thrust your hips up at the same time, slamming the last bit deep into her core.

“Fuck,” you groaned, the word dripping with unrestrained lust as you felt the full weight of Natasha's body sink down onto you. The strap filled her completely, the bulge in her stomach more pronounced now as you both struggled to breathe, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

“I-I can feel it,” Natasha whimpered, her voice trembling as she struggled to catch her breath. “I can feel all of you.”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you whispered, your voice rough with desire. “Look at you... taking all of me.”

Natasha's head was against your shoulder, her eyes wide and unfocused as her entire body shook from the overwhelming sensation. She’d never felt this full before; the sensation made her feel like she was on the verge of breaking—and yet, the pleasure was undeniable. She loved it. The overwhelming stretch, the sheer size of the strap filled her in ways she’d never experienced. Her thighs shook violently, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps, and then you saw it—tears.

Her eyes, already glassy with pleasure, began to well as she lifted herself up and then sank fully back onto you. The tears spilled over, streaming down her flushed cheeks, her lips parted as soft, broken whimpers escaped her. She was so deep into subspace, so lost in the haze of sensation and submission that her body didn’t know how to react. All she could do was feel.

You watched her, completely captivated by the sight of her like this—so vulnerable, so beautiful, her skin glistening with sweat, her cheeks stained with tears. It made your heart ache with an almost possessive kind of affection.

“There you go,” you whispered, your voice low and tender as your hands moved from her waist to cup her cheeks, gently wiping away her tears with your fingers while using the reflection as a guide. “You’re doing so well, baby. Look at you, taking it all. You’re perfect.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath catching in her throat as she struggled to comprehend your words. The praise washed over her like a warm blanket, pulling her deeper into that fuzzy, blissed-out space. But the tears didn’t stop. If anything, they flowed even more freely now, her lips quivering as she let out another soft sob.

“Too much?” you asked, though you knew from the way her body clung to yours, the way she kept sinking down further and further, that she wasn’t going to stop. “Or do you like it, hmm? You like being so full of me?”

Her response was almost incoherent, a soft whimper and a nod, her head lolling against your shoulder as she tried to gather herself. The praise was affecting her so deeply, every word sinking into her foggy brain and amplifying the pleasure until she didn’t know what to do with herself.

But then you leaned closer, your lips brushing against her ear, and you let your voice dip into something more commanding, more degrading.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your tone taking on a sharper edge. “Crying just because you’re so full. You’re such a pretty little thing, aren’t you? You can barely handle it, and yet here you are... taking all of me like a good girl.”

Natasha whimpered again, her entire body flushing deep red as the words cut through the haze in her mind. She didn’t fully understand them—her brain was too fuzzy, too far gone—but the tone, the way you said it, made her blush even harder. It was a mix of praise and something else, something darker, and it sent shivers down her spine.

“I... I’m trying,” she mumbled, her voice shaky, her lips trembling. “I’m trying so hard to be good.”

“You are good,” you reassured her, your hands moving back to her waist again, gripping her firmly as you pulled her down onto the strap again. “You’re so fucking good, Nat. So perfect for me. Taking it all like such a good girl.”

Her breath hitched as you moved her, her body too weak to resist, too deep in the pleasure to even think of stopping you. Her mind was spinning, her body trembling, and the tears kept flowing. She didn’t even know why she was crying anymore. Maybe it was the overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely, or maybe it was the praise that made her heart ache with need.

“You’re so beautiful,” you continued, your voice softer now as you kissed the side of her neck, your hands still guiding her hips. “So beautiful when you cry for me.”

The tears kept coming, her body shaking with quiet sobs, but her hips kept moving, kept following your lead as you pushed her down again and again. She didn’t stop, didn’t want to stop. The pain and pleasure mixed together, a heady cocktail of sensations that had her spiralling deeper into submission.

“I don’t know if you can take me much longer,” you teased, your lips brushing against her ear as you spoke. “But you want to, don’t you? You want to be good for me.”

Natasha could barely form a response now, her head spinning with the intensity of it all. She nodded, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and need, her brain too fuzzy to process everything. But she knew one thing for certain: she wanted to make you happy. She wanted to please you, even if it meant pushing herself to the edge of her limits, even further than now.

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper, her head falling back against your shoulder. “I want to... I want to make you happy.”

“You are,” you murmured, your tone laced with approval as you squeezed her waist, your eyes glued to her reflection in the mirror. “You’re making me so happy, sweet angel. Look at yourself. Look how good you’re doing.”

Her gaze flicked to the mirror, and she moaned at the sight. The strap pushed deep inside her, creating a visible bulge in her stomach that moved with each thrust. Her skin was flushed, hair damp with sweat, and her cheeks streaked with tears. She looked completely wrecked—and yet, so incredibly beautiful.

“You see that?” you asked, your voice thick with lust as your hands slid up her stomach, pressing down on the bulge gently. “Look how full you are, baby. You’re so perfect like this.”

The praise, the sensation, everything was too much for her. Natasha’s mind was a blur of pleasure and pain, her body stretched beyond what she thought she could take, and yet she wanted more. She needed more. Even if her body was trembling, even if the tears wouldn’t stop, she needed to make you proud.

“I’m... I’m so full,” she whimpered, her hands resting right above yours on her lower stomach, feeling the bulge there, her face bright red as she looked at herself in the mirror. “It’s so much...”

“You can take it,” you growled, your hands moving from her waist to her breasts, massaging them roughly as you thrust your hips up again. “You’ve already taken all of me, Nat. You’re doing so good. So fucking good.”

The praise hit her like a tidal wave, making her moan as her body convulsed in your lap. She was too far gone to even process the words properly, her brain fuzzy and overwhelmed, but she nodded anyway, tears still streaming down her cheeks as she whispered, “Thank you...”

“Such a good girl,” you purred, your hands squeezing her breasts as your lips brushed against her ear again. “You love this, don’t you? Being full, being praised... You’re perfect, Nat. Absolutely perfect.”

Her body trembled at the words, her eyes fluttering shut as she let out a soft, broken sob. She didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know how to process all the feelings swirling inside her, but one thing stayed clear in her mind—she wanted to make you proud. She needed to. And she would.

Natasha’s body shuddered violently, her breath hitching in sharp, desperate gasps as she tried to stay grounded. But you could feel the way she was clenching around you, her inner muscles spasming uncontrollably as her body teetered on the edge.

You shifted your hips upward, thrusting the strap even deeper inside her. The rough movement sent a jolt through her entire body, and that was it—Natasha couldn’t hold on any longer. Her third orgasm ripped through her with devastating force, her legs trembling uncontrollably as she let out a loud, broken moan, her body convulsing in your lap.

“There it is,” you murmured, your voice thick with satisfaction as your hands tightened on her waist. “That’s it, Nat. You feel so good when you come for me.”

Natasha’s head lolled back against your shoulder, her body sagging against yours as she came hard, her walls tightening around the strap, her muscles clenching and releasing in frantic waves. Her hands scrabbled for purchase, one gripping your thigh while the other pressed against the mirror as if trying to steady herself, but she couldn’t. She was completely lost in it.

The tears that were already spilling down her cheeks came faster now, mingling with the sweat that coated her skin, her lips trembling as sobs of pleasure wracked her body. She was overwhelmed, her mind completely submerged in the sensation, but even through the haze of subspace, she kept moving—kept riding your strap, desperate to please you, desperate to be good.

“There you go,” you whispered, guiding her gently as she shook in your lap. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

The praise sent another wave of pleasure crashing through her, and she moaned, her body responding without thought, without control. Her hips bucked, the muscles in her thighs spasming as her fourth orgasm hit her before she had fully come down from the previous one. It was too much. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t stop her body from convulsing as she rode out the wave after wave of pleasure that seemed to keep rolling through her.

“Oh god, oh god,” Natasha gasped, her voice barely audible between her sobs. “I can’t... I can’t stop...”

“You don’t need to stop,” you reassured her, your voice low and soothing even as your hands gripped her tighter, pulling her back onto your strap as she tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation. “You’re doing so good, baby. You’re perfect.”

Her sobs turned to wails, absolute filth escaping her mouth, her entire body trembling as her next orgasm crashed into her like a tidal wave. She couldn’t hold herself together anymore, her body completely out of her control. Her hips jerked, moving on instinct as she ground down against you, her walls squeezing the strap so tightly that you could feel the tension all the way through your core.

The sight of her in the mirror drove you wild—the way her stomach bulged from the size of the strap, her breasts bouncing with each desperate movement, and the tears that continued to spill down her cheeks. She looked utterly destroyed, so beautifully wrecked, her skin flushed and glistening, her lips parted as broken moans and whimpers slipped from her mouth.

“Fuck, look at you,” you growled, your hands exploring every inch of her skin, fingers digging into her softness as you continued to thrust deeper with increasing force. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Nat. You’re so full.”

Natasha just whimpered, her breath hitching as her body responded to your rougher touch. She was so deep in subspace now, so far gone, that she couldn’t even register the words you were saying, but she could feel them—the way they made her body react, the way her muscles tightened and trembled under your hands. She nodded, her head falling forward, her eyes glassy and distant as she let out another soft sob.

“I... I want to be good,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath as she tried to steady herself. “I want... I want to make you happy.”

“You are good,” you whispered back, your voice a mix of praise and possessiveness as you kept pulling her down harder onto the strap. “You’re fucking perfect, Nat. You’re making me so proud.”

The praise sent another wave of pleasure crashing through her, and suddenly, Natasha was coming again—her body convulsing in your lap as her next orgasm hit her with even more intensity than the last. Her hands pressed against the mirror, her palms flat against the glass as she sobbed, her entire body trembling uncontrollably.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmured, your hands sliding up from her waist to her breasts again, squeezing them as she convulsed in your lap. “Look at you. Look at how beautiful you are when you come.”

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze fixing on the mirror, and the sight of herself—flushed, sweaty, tear-streaked, and utterly wrecked—sent another shudder through her. She moaned, her hips jerking as her body tried to keep up with the pleasure, her mind too fuzzy to process it all.

“I... I still can’t stop,” she whimpered, her voice thick with need. “It’s too much...”

“I know, baby,” you cooed, your voice dripping with approval as you massaged her breasts, your thumbs brushing over her nipples. “You’re doing so good. Just let go. Let me take care of you.”

Her body obeyed without question, her hips moving on their own as she sank down onto the strap again, her walls clenching around it as another orgasm built inside her. She was completely lost to it now, her mind a haze of pleasure and submission, her body trembling as she came again and again, each orgasm rolling into the next until she didn’t know where one ended and the other began.

“Such a good girl,” you murmured, your hands sliding down to her waist again as you thrust up into her with more force. “You’re taking me so well, Nat. You’re perfect.”

Natasha’s response was a soft, broken sob, her body collapsing against you as the pleasure overwhelmed her completely. She was gone, completely lost in subspace, her mind a blur of sensations and praise, and all she could do was ride it out, her body trembling in your lap as you guided her through each wave of pleasure.

Natasha’s body continued to tremble against yours, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps, her chest heaving with the effort. The storm of pleasure was still coursing through her, but her hips had stilled, no longer able to move after the relentless waves of orgasms that had wracked her body.

You could feel the twitching of her muscles, the way her body clenched around the strap still buried deep inside her, but she wasn’t grinding and you weren’t thrusting anymore. She was utterly spent, her head resting against your shoulder, her tears still trickling down her flushed cheeks as she tried to catch her breath.

Gently, you loosened your grip on her waist, moving your hands with deliberate care as you wrapped your arms around her trembling form. Natasha whimpered softly as you pulled her close, her body still so sensitive, every slight movement sending aftershocks rippling through her.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice soft and soothing now, a stark contrast to the intensity that had filled the air just moments before. “You did so good, Natty baby. Just breathe.”

Natasha’s body relaxed a little in your hold, though she was still shaking, her limbs twitching with the lingering ecstasy that coursed through her. She made a small, broken sound—half a sob, half a whimper—as her body gave in fully, collapsing against you, completely spent. You cradled her carefully, holding her close, one hand stroking her arm while the other stayed on her breast, grounding her in your touch.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered again, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “You’re safe. You’re perfect.”

She let out a shaky breath, her head lolling to the side as her eyes fluttered closed, her mind still foggy from the intensity of everything. You could feel the way her heartbeat was gradually slowing, the frantic rhythm calming as you continued to hold her, shushing her softly, letting her know she wasn’t alone in this vulnerable moment.

Your hand on her breast moved gently, tracing soft circles around her nipple, a grounding sensation to remind her she was safe in your arms. Her body twitched under your touch, her chest still heaving, but she didn’t try to move away. She stayed nestled against you, letting the warmth of your embrace calm her.

“You’re okay, Natty,” you murmured softly, your lips brushing against her ear. “Just stay with me. I’ve got you.”

She nodded weakly, her body sagging further into your lap, her legs spread open as she remained impaled on the strap. It was a quiet, intimate moment now—no longer about the intensity of lust but about something deeper, more tender. Her body was twitching from the aftershocks, the occasional clench around the strap still reminding you of how deep you were inside her, but she wasn’t trying to take more. She was just… being.

Natasha let out another shaky breath, her fingers gripping your arm as if to anchor herself. The tears that had been flowing earlier were slowing, but her face remained wet, her cheeks flushed and streaked with saltwater. You watched her closely in the mirror, your gaze softening as you took in the sight of her—completely vulnerable, completely yours.

“There you go,” you whispered, brushing your thumb gently across her cheek, wiping away the remnants of her tears. “You’re so beautiful, Natty. So perfect.”

She whimpered softly at the praise, her eyes fluttering open for just a moment before they closed again. Her breathing was slowly evening out, the shaky gasps becoming steadier as you held her close, your hands moving in gentle, soothing motions. You could feel her muscles slowly unclenching, her body relaxing into you, no longer overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure.

“It’s okay now,” you whispered, resting your chin on her shoulder as you held her tighter. “Just breathe with me.”

You stayed like that for a while, the two of you wrapped in each other, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your quiet breaths and the faint hum of the world outside. The strap was still inside her, but it was a comfort—something grounding for her as she came down from the high of subspace.

Natasha’s body, though still trembling, seemed to relax even further, her head turning slightly as she nestled into your neck. She was quiet now, her soft whimpers replaced with gentle sighs, her body twitching occasionally but no longer driven by the need to move. She was content to just be held, to let you take care of her.

You pressed another soft kiss to her hair, your hands still stroking her arms and chest, reminding her that you were there—that you had her.

“You’re so good for me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible now, a quiet affirmation that she didn’t need to do anything more. “So perfect, Nat. I’m so proud of you.”

Her response was a quiet, barely-there hum, her body settling even more as she melted into your embrace. The tension was gone now, replaced with a soft, languid peace that settled over both of you. You could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing, the way her back moved against yours, and it grounded you just as much as it did her.

You cradled Natasha in your arms for what felt like forever, the quiet comfort between you speaking louder than any words. She was completely limp, her body heavy against yours, her breaths soft and steady now.

After a while, you pressed a soft kiss to her temple and whispered gently, “I should clean you up, baby. Let me run you a bath.”

Natasha hummed in disagreement, her head shaking slightly as she leaned further into you, her eyes still closed. She wasn’t ready to move, wasn’t ready to let go of the feeling of you inside her, keeping her grounded and safe. You smiled softly at her stubbornness, her bratty behaviour making you shake your head in amusement. The bulge in her stomach, still there and almost casual now, was like a silent reminder that this wasn’t the last time something like this would happen whenever she decided to brat out.

You chuckled again, warmth spreading through your chest. She was so beautiful, so perfect, and you loved her even more in these quiet, vulnerable moments.

“Alright, alright,” you murmured, running your hand gently along her side, “we’ll stay here for a bit longer. But when you’re ready, I’m cleaning you up.”

Natasha didn’t respond, just snuggled deeper into you, her body still. Her face was completely relaxed, her lips parted slightly as she rested against you, lost in the lingering haze of subspace. You held her close, stroking her arm softly as you watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, content to stay like this for as long as she needed.

It was about ten minutes later when you felt her stir. A faint wince crossed her face as she shifted in your lap, her muscles clearly starting to ache after the intense session. She let out a small, pained whimper, her brow furrowing as she tried to move slightly, the soreness settling in.

You kissed her head gently, your voice soft and reassuring. “Ready for that bath now?”

This time, she didn’t protest. She nodded weakly, her eyes still closed but her body slowly coming back to her as she let out a quiet, “Mhm.”

You helped her sit up, your hands gentle as you guided her, though even the small movement made her wince again. As Natasha began to lift herself off the strap, you couldn’t help but groan at the sight. She was slightly gaping, her body clearly feeling the aftereffects of the stretch, and the sight was enough to make your stomach twist with desire all over again.

Natasha blushed deeply, her cheeks flushed a soft pink as she noticed your reaction. You saw her glance in the mirror, catching the way her body looked before quickly averting her gaze, embarrassed but unable to hide the small, sheepish smile playing on her lips.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, your voice a little rough from the sight of her. Natasha’s blush deepened, and she looked away again, biting her lip in that shy, adorable way she did when she was overwhelmed with praise.

You discarded the toy to the side, knowing you’d deal with it later. Right now, Natasha was your priority, and aftercare was the only thing on your mind.

“Come here, Nat,” you whispered, helping her to her feet and wrapping an arm around her waist to support her. She wobbled slightly, her legs weak from the intensity of everything, but you held her steady, guiding her slowly toward the bathroom.

Once you had the bath running, you sat her down on the edge of the tub, kneeling in front of her as you gently cleaned her up, wiping away the remnants of the session with a soft, damp cloth. Natasha was quiet, her eyes half-lidded as she watched you with a tired, hazy gaze, her body still relaxed in the warmth of your presence.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmured as you cleaned her, your hands gentle and careful. “I’m so proud of you, Nat.”

She let out a soft hum in response, her cheeks still a little pink from earlier, but she didn’t try to speak. She was too exhausted, too deep in the afterglow to do anything but watch you with that sleepy, content look on her face.

Once the bath was ready, you helped her into the warm water, holding her hand as she slowly sank into the tub, a sigh of relief escaping her lips as the heat soothed her aching muscles. You stayed by her side, your fingers tracing soft patterns along her arm, watching as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the edge of the tub.

“Are you feeling better?” you asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a small, tired smile. “Mhm,” she mumbled, her voice soft but hoarse from all the moaning and gasping earlier.

You chuckled, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Good.”

For the next while, you stayed with her, washing her hair gently, your hands careful as you massaged her scalp, the soothing motions helping to relax her even more. Natasha let out quiet, contented sighs every now and then, her body completely at ease in your care.

When the bath was over, you wrapped her in a soft towel, drying her off gently before helping her into a comfortable, oversized shirt. She was still quiet, her movements slow and sleepy, but she leaned into your touch every chance she got, seeking out your warmth and comfort.

You led her back to the bedroom, guiding her under the covers before climbing in beside her. As soon as you settled in, Natasha curled into your side, her head resting on your chest, her arms wrapping around you as she let out a soft, contented sigh.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but the gratitude in her tone was clear.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around her and holding her close. “Always, Natty,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. “I’ll always take care of you.”

She hummed softly in response, already drifting off to sleep in your arms, her body finally fully at peace.

a/n- i need to start writing shorter fics oh my god. thanks for reading!

[unholyhelbig]

Oversight one shot request - Nat and reader dealing with the aftermath of an argument that got heated, nat realising she was wrong which is rare for her and having to try and make it up to reader

Title: The Sword and the Stone [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Reader and Natasha get into a heated argument when Reader starts to doubt her true purpose in Natasha's life.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): angst, threats of drowning, light threats, implied sex, horrible grammar- I don't proof read.

[a/n: yeah, I really don't know what this is. Life has been so hectic lately and I'm so exhausted. Someone put me out of my misery and make sure I never have to go back to South Carolina ever again.]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

The black wax seal on the three-hundred-dollar bottle of whiskey had left a filmy residue against the mouth of the glass. It gave the warm drink an oaky edge that helped you swallow it down. The first sip had burned through your nostrils and down your throat until it lit a fire in your belly. The second seemed to extinguish the first.

You’d kept drinking until there was a pleasant buzz across your skin. You’d rolled your pantlegs up to the middle of your calves until the fabric was constricting and swished your legs around in the dark water of the pool. The scent of chlorine mixed dangerously with the bergamot undertones of the alcohol.

The moon was full and gave you a full encompassed view of the backyard and the edge of the lake lapping at the rocky shores. If you squinted, you could see the dots of red and green as buoys molded to the tides. Fishing boats navigated their way to the docks, their rumbling alerts shaking your chest.

You lifted the crystal glass to your lips and took a deeper gulp. It was warm and unpleasant but eventually ebbed to a cynical type of comfort. You placed the glass to the side and worked your fingers numbly through your hair. They ached incessantly. Your body wasn’t built for this anymore.

There was a soreness to your jaw and the underlying taste of metal that coated your throat. Before you’d walked into your shared home, the redness had started to grow a nasty, ugly purple. I’d certainly be swollen in the morning, even if you had pressed a bag of frozen peas to it.

It was a cycle. A vicious one that you’d endured for the past ten years. You were a blade in Natasha Romanoff’s toolkit. To the city, you were a composed and elegant viper; deadly when you bit but often found wrapping yourself around the arm of Eve. The crowd parted for you. Politicians groveled and clients smiled uneasily, in a scared sort of kindness.

With a groan, you laid yourself back on the patio stones and stared up at the stars. They pockmarked the sky in constellations that threatened to spin until they turned to lines of warbled light. You’d had too much to drink, and too little to eat. You’d lay here until the light in your bedroom flicked off and you could sneak in smelling of booze.

Of course, you heard your wife approaching.

When you’d first met Natasha Romanoff, you were enveloped in eternal darkness, beaten within an inch of your life. The sound of her footfalls in heels beat against your eardrums and had caused you to jerk your head up with dizzying quickness.

Now, you could pick up noise of her bare feet padding delicately against dew-soaked grass and then leaving uneven prints against the stonework. Her scent was inky and doused in sandalwood. Something that typically brought you a wave of comfort served as a catalyst for nausea.

“If you’re going to get drunk on a Tuesday night, darling, maybe an expensive bottle of whisky is not the right avenue.”

“Mm,”

The hum tickled your throat. Natasha had lowered herself to the edge of the pool next to you, delicately dipping her feet into the warm water. Her perfectly manicured fingers pressed cooly against your forehead before carding through your hair. You sighed contentedly and leaned into her touch before you registered that you were supposed to be mad at her.

“It works all the same. I’ll replace it.”

“No need. It was a thoughtless gift from Leland Owlsley after he behaved like a prick. It’s been aging for nearly a decade now.”

You made a noise that was akin to a whimper. Maybe you had underestimated the strength of the drink. Not that you would ever admit that to Natasha. You became malleable when you were drunk, and who better to work forgiveness out of you than your wife?

You draped your arm over your eyes, slurring out “Do you know the legend of Excalibur?”

Natasha scoffed, and when she didn’t give you a verbal answer, you peaked over your arm, finally getting a look at her. She was in nothing but her silk robe, the emerald green a sharp contrast to her pale expanse of skin. It had been years, and she still rendered you speechless.

She relented and shook her head, full attention trained on you. Often, you would dive into the books that lined the walls in Natasha’s study. They were leather-bound and filled with different mythos that she hadn’t read herself.

Sometimes, you would regale her with the stories of fantastical worlds that stuck with you. Of dragons that heaved heavy helpings of fire, and sea serpents that brushed their gills along the ridged edges of boats. Natasha would curl into your side, her ear pressed against your bare chest as your words lulled her into sleep.

“The blade was said to be forged with the blood of seven dragons. Each one breathed a green fire that was hotter than brimstone, and stronger than the very core of the earth. The blade, it wasn’t meant for just anyone. It may be mighty, but it’s nothing without a guiding hand.”

You hilted yourself up until you were resting all of your weight on your elbows, the rocky patio digging into your bones and stinging enough to keep you focused. Natasha had turned her head, resting her cheek on her knees and blinking slowly at you.

“For centuries, the blade was wedged in stone. Though many men tried and tried again to dislodge it, the sword would only budge for someone who was worthy, and that was Arthur Pendragon. The two worked together for decades, warding off evil, and protecting a kingdom that eventually, they came to rule.

“Arthur was considered the greatest king in Avalon’s history and served until he became too old to do so. Excalibur was not meant to be wielded by another, nor buried beneath the earth with it’s master. So, Arthur set off on his longest journey yet.”

Natasha swallowed hard. Her fingers twitched, eyes glowing under the pale light of the moon. She looked ethereal, and the snake in the pit of your stomach coiled tighter with want. You were meant to be upset with her, but the tenderness in her posture gave away her vulnerability.

“He used the last of his strength to travel across the kingdom, through vast forests, dark caverns, and steep cliffs until he crawled his way to the edge of the lake of youth. Now, stories start to differ here. But, in each, Arthur returns to sword to the ladies of the lake, determined to protect his old friend. The only one that’s ever stuck by him.

“Some say Arthur took the hand of a young siren and allowed himself to be led into the cold water. Others proclaim that he disintegrated into dust when the hilt of the sword left his hand. Either way, he was never seen again, and neither was the Excalibur.”

Some of the warmth from the whiskey was wearing off and a chill had settled against your bones. Your fingers itched to pour more of the dark buttery liquid into the glass. Natasha had moved them from your grasp with all the subtly of a god.

So, in turn, you focused on the glassy look in her eyes and willed yourself to sit up, swallowing the oaky taste in your mouth. The world spun around twice before stabilizing on the done light at the edge of the pool.

You felt a lump form in your throat, outweighing the heated effects of the alcohol. You made it a habit not to cry in front of your wife, and she rarely ever gave you a reason to. But the tensions had been swirling wickedly for months now.

“Nat,” you whispered, “sometimes I feel like I’m just your sword.”

The argument had broken out on the way home from the city. The night was a certain type of darkness that allowed the milk-white stars to shine through. It was balmy and the air conditioner whirred enough to curb the dampening interior.

You knew it was stupid to let a small thorn in your side rip and tear at your flesh until a gaping hole was left in it’s place. Your knuckles were throbbing, and a pack of peas were pressed against your jaw where a hit had landed.

You’d stepped in front of Natasha and grabbed the handle of a steak-knife and aimed it towards the ground. Your wife hadn’t even blinked, and you had no doubt that she would have misdirected the attack from the charge herself.

It was easy to strike fear into the dishwasher that reached towards whatever he could find in an act of defense. You grasped what little hair he had on the back of his head and held him under the soapy water, letting the sanitizer cling to your lungs with it’s citrus edge.

You’d gotten the money like the good loan shark you were and Natasha had pressed her fingers to the small of your back in acknowledgement before swaying off the car. You’d exited through the back, dripping with bubbles.

There were times when the weight of being Natasha Romanoff’s wife weighted you down like a pile of bricks. She was a good partner within the walls of the house. She’d pull you against her front and lean her head against your shoulder, her cold fingers wandering under the fabric of your shirt.

There were expensive bottles of wine, and perfect cuts of meat. Quiet nights where you were tangled under the covers, whispering soft nothings. Louder nights where your back was arched and stars danced across your vision.

All of this changed when you moved past the threshold of your cultivated life. You’d married Natasha knowing good and well that her family, your family, was going to be dysfunctional. The ledger for the Romanoff’s dripped a cherry red.

You were meant to be her sword, her Excalibur. You stood a few inches behind her, arms tucked behind your back and stare cold with disinterest. Though, you paid apt attention to each movement her company made.  

Years before, you had been nothing but a waitress with a high pain tolerance. You’d let Natasha mold you into the weapon that you were, and most of the time, you were content with this arrangement.

The scent of bergamot tickled your throat as she moved closer with disquieting patience. She’d withdrawn her feet from the pool and straddled your center. Her weight was familiar, but the tenderness in her stare was often hidden by her walled disposition.

You grunted, staring up at the sharp curve of her jaw and the slight flush against her cheeks. She’d been in the sun today, freckles giving her away. Her nimble fingers brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and played with the gold charm in the center of your necklace.

“Darling, you know the problem with that legend?” You shook your head, hands going to the familiar place on her hips. “The Excalibur was crafted long before Arthur was around to wield it. The fates saw him fit because of the amount of care, and love he had for the sword.”

A sigh escaped you, “I thought you didn’t know the legend.”

“Oh, everyone knows the legend.” She danced her fingers against your collarbone, your body betrayed you with goosebumps and a suppressed shiver down your spine. “But I will be the first to admit that I’ve been unfair to you.”

You blinked up at her in shock, stilling your movements. Natasha Romanoff was as stubborn as they came and never admitted to being wrong. There were moments where she tentatively agreed to a different course of action, or quietly concluded that Clint would take the lead during situations that required a softer touch.

“While I am in constant awe of your ruthlessness, I am well aware that the woman I married has a soft touch. You were a waitress bringing in tips with your dazzling smile, after-all.” Her fingers were brushing dangerously close to the hem of your pants. You felt your muscles contract under her. “I apologize, moya lyubov', for making you feel as if you are nothing but a weapon. To me, you are so much more. To me, you are everything.”

Her words became whispered against your jaw in the slightest of warmth. Your pulse thudded against your throat and her tongue pressed close to the rhythm. You groaned softly and arched upwards. Your entire body was flushed with arousal.

A salacious moan escaped her. “Do you forgive me, malyshka?”

“Mm, you’re playing dirty, Nat.”

God- you’d forgiven her even before she had uttered the words of apology. Now that her perfectly curved fingers were pushing past the waistband of your pants, you were ready to rush out whatever she wanted to hear.

“Perhaps. I mean what I say, the mere thought of you being unhappy shatters me.”

Her lips were everywhere, plush as she kissed against the corner of your lip, breathing out apologies between each nip. Natasha trailed down your jawline, your pulse-point and the curves of your chest. Her breath was molten as if fanned against your skin.

Suddenly serious, she pulled back, bracing her hands on your shoulders. She held you down with little effort, strength pulsing through her exposed muscles. You swallowed the dryness in your throat and let out a shuttered whine.

“It was never my intention to make you feel inadequate. You may be deadly, molded under my hand to protect this family with everything you have, but first and foremost, you are my wife. We’ll make sure everyone knows it. But first, I need to hear you say it.”

“Say it?” You felt the pressure build in your chest, her palms digging into your collarbone. It was a satisfying sting that made you writhe under her heavy hand, you narrowed your eyes. “Really? Right now?”

Natasha flushed, pulling herself into a sitting position. “Not that, y/n. Don’t start something you don’t intend to finish.”

“Oh, you mean forgiveness. Kinky.”

“krasivo, pozhaluysta”

She wouldn’t dare beg in anything less than her native tongue. Natasha’s voice was gravelly, her eyes boring into yours with a desperation that usually was reserved for silk sheets and hazy mornings. You hated seeing her like this, clawing for affection that she so rarely asked for. Your heart seized, and you maneuvered yourself until you were in a sitting position, holding her flush against you.

Natasha tucked her nose against the small of your neck and nothing short of nuzzled you. Her disposition had crumbled and her fingers wicked into the fabric of your shirt. You held her close and listened to her breathing as it mingled with the shift of water.

There were moments, few and far between, when the calls got too close, where she would do this. Just sit and embrace the sound of your heartbeat. She kept her ear against your chest and counted the minutes. You carded your fingers through her hair and embraced her amenability.

You lifted her chin until her eyes met yours, reflecting the sweeping of the chlorine saturated pool. Her bottom lip was jutted out in an almost pout. You resisted the urge to kiss the expression off her face.

“I forgive you, Natty.” You whispered against her lips, “I’ll be your Excalibur.”

Natasha scoffed and closed the minute distance between you both. The kiss was soft, her lips tasting of the lingering liquor on your own. Her arms encircled your neck, tongue begging for entrance. You felt a frown on her features, she suddenly pulled back.

“Are you insinuating that you’d rather be with a lady of the lake?”

“Nat,” You groaned, dropping your head.

“No, no, I can totally take you to the wharf if you want the other woman.”

“There is no other woman, it was a metaphor.”

“You could have chosen a metaphor without a siren, and you know it.”

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

[silhouetteonpaper]

Hiiiii, could I make a request where Natasha goes away for a week long mission and comes back to find her and her S/O's apartment covered woth crocheted stuff? Like blankets, couch covers, pillow cases, rug, curtains, and just this massive box of little crocheted teddy animals and her S/O sat in the couch filling the second box,

because when they're stressed they crochet and Natasha's mission stressed her out so Nat walks in to find them surrounded by crocheted stuff and they're just like "...I missed you 🥰" with lots of cuddles

Stressed Stiches

Summary: When Natasha returns from her mission, she realizes just how stressed her absence made you feel. In an attempt to soothe your impending anxiety, a certain craft keeps you busy while waiting for your girlfriend’s return. Natasha Romanoff x Reader WC: 1,161 Warnings/themes: Super fluffy! A/N: I extended this request a little, I hope you enjoy! <3

The apartment door squeaked open, a cautious redhead on the other side grimacing in hopes she wouldn’t wake you up. After a week out of town on an important mission, Natasha finally returned home. You were reluctant to let her leave, knowing the kind of trouble she finds herself in time after time. Your constant text messages and calls never failed to keep your girlfriend in check—from always saying goodmorning and goodnight, to reminding her how much you love her and miss her. Every single time Natasha’s phone lit up with a message from you, she smiled, the warmth in her heart growing each time she remembered you were waiting for her at home.

Natasha glanced around the apartment, confirming you’d definitely gone to sleep. She knows you’re not one to stay up late, especially in the depths of night when she usually gets home from missions. All of the lamps were off, for once, your habit of forgetting to turn off the lights finally clicking. Natasha smiled to herself, realizing you’d really been working on being better about that.

Suddenly, the tired Widow noticed something—or someone hiding behind the couch. The intruder’s hat stuck up just enough for her to spot it, even in the low lighting. Natasha’s heart dropped, her regret about leaving you alone for this long quickly surfacing. Of course the intruder would utilize her being away to attack. Her steps slowed, the gun tucked in her bag easily being retrieved as she approached the mysterious figment with caution. Passing a light switch, she hastily flicked the overhead lights on to reveal the intruder.

But it wasn’t an intruder. It was a crocheted hat sitting on top of a pillow, among dozens of other meticulously crocheted creations. Blankets, pillows, hats, bags, and even a new set of coasters all made out of yarn—now all sprawled out across the living room. She sighed, putting her gun back in its respective spot. The feeling of guilt replaced her worry, knowing you were probably desperate to fill her absence with something else.

To say you were beside yourself with worry while she was gone was an understatement. Usually, when you were stressed, Natasha would be at your side to offer comfort. But every time she’d go on a mission, you were forced to find a new coping skill. What if Natasha gets hurt? What if she gets kidnapped? What if she has to be away even longer? The ever-flowing fears would swirl your mind like a tornado the second Natasha would leave for a mission. Nothing truly provided relief, though certain crafts would soothe the ache slightly.

This time, you’d taken up crocheting. After watching numerous videos on it and taking a trip to the craft store, the projects basically finished themselves. The entire week of Natasha’s absence was spent crocheting, stitch after stitch, creation after creation, until the apartment could barely hold your collection anymore. As the redhead looked around the room, she noticed that you didn’t just stop with smaller decorations. The old red curtains were replaced, now displaying green yarn carefully stitched into a draping veil. The rug wasn’t tan and shaggy anymore, it was blue and soft—made by hand with yarn.

Natasha always felt bad when she had to go on a mission, but you both understood it was for the good of the country. On top of that, Natasha genuinely enjoyed the work she did, even if it meant risking her life; and who were you to stop her from doing what she loved? Yet she couldn’t help but chuckle when seeing all of your creations and the lengths you went to in order to cope with your anxiety. It was sweet, the fact you’d opt to keep yourself busy by nearly redecorating the entire living room.

She saw what the impact of her absence had done to you, and luckily it would be a while until her next long mission. Eventually, as the Widow steadied her heart rate, she quietly headed into the bedroom to get ready for bed. Expecting to see your figure under the covers, she was surprised by something else entirely.

At this point, she shouldn’t have been surprised. You were there, hooking your crochet needles around a new creation in the dim lighting of the lamp. The blanket keeping you warm wasn’t the old blue duvet that was there a week ago; it was a pink crocheted comforter. Usually the other side of the bed was left empty in Natasha’s stead, but not anymore. Laying there was a box full to the brim of hand-made stuffed animals. The grin that filled the redhead’s entire face was priceless.

“You’re home!” You exclaimed, forgetting all about your project as you jumped up and hugged your girlfriend. Natasha laughed softly, her eyes lingering on your creations for an extra moment as she held you tightly.

“I missed you so much, love. But it looks like you’ve replaced me…” It was your turn to laugh, now taking a long look around the room and recalling all the things you’d replaced.

“Oh, uh—yeah. I missed you so much, I got a little carried away.” You admitted, pulling away to look her in the eyes. She brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, taking in your presence after a week of missing it dearly. Your eyes glimmered with that familiar passion, something Natasha could never get enough of.

Eventually, she guided you back to bed, changing into pajamas herself. “It’s alright, I don’t mind a change of decor. But did you have to make our comforter pink?” The two of you laughed, eyes staying glued to one another—almost like you couldn’t believe she was actually home. After what felt like ages, Natasha headed to her side of the bed. “Are these for me?” Her voice turned soft when she noticed just how many stuffed animals you created for her.

“Yeah, I’m working on a second box of them now.” Sure enough, there was an identical box nearly full of even more stuffed animals. Natasha chuckled, moving the box to her nightstand as she got under the covers next to you. You wasted no time leaning up against her, your head fitting perfectly in the crook of her neck.

“Thank you, baby. I love you so much, you know that, right?” She questioned, snuggling up beside you. You missed having her next to you—her side of the bed remained cold for too many nights. Although the new creations crowded your safe space, having Natasha there beside you made it feel right. The stuffed animals and crocheted housewares provided you with a sense of comfort, but not nearly as much as Natasha ever could.

“I know, I love you too. I wouldn’t have crocheted an army of stuffed animals if I didn’t.” You smiled, letting Natasha pull you in closer before the two of you fell into a deep sleep, finally safe in each other’s arms.

[a-spes]

| DEVIOUS LIES — Part one (3.842 words).

| Summary — Anon Request — When your friend asked you out for a drink, you didn't think much about it. Yet, maybe you should've, because that night ruined your life. It has been two years, and you can't stop think about what you lost. Your job, your friends, your lover, and even your mind was left in that motel room.

| Tags & warnings — Avenger!Natasha Romanoff x Avenger!Reader, AoS!OC x Avenger!Reader, Other Avengers, angst without comfort, cheating, mental health issues, suicidal ideations, self depreciation.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

“I am really not sure we should do that, Stark”, you repeated for what may be the tenth time since you picked up the phone, “it sounds like a really, really, bad idea, and you know, I am not sure sh~”

“Come on!” he said, cutting short your ramblings.

Your thoughts are racing, your mind imagining all the things that could go wrong. It is an endless series of “what ifs” that is only stopped by Tony’s voice. You both knew that if he lets you think too much, he would lose his battle. It’s a risky plan he wants to drag you in. 

“I am sure you are dying to say yes,” he added when you didn’t answer him, and you could hear his petty smile through the phone. As he sensed that you were about to accept, the man tried to convince you with one last argument, “she won’t know anything, I promise. None of them will, I thought about everything,” he assured you, and you believed him.

He was right, you wanted to say yes, but you couldn’t get yourself to say the word aloud. There are too many ways for it to end badly, and you really don’t need to make your situation worse than it already is. Two years ago, you lost everything. None of your teammates tried to understand your situation, they didn’t give you a chance to explain what happened. Instead, they threw you away from the team, and the tower, without giving it a second thought, as if you were just garbage.

Maybe that’s what you are.

Sometimes, when you think about the events, you surprise yourself by siding with them. It’s easier to think that you deserve what they are doing to you than to accept the injustice of the situation, which you can’t do anything about. After all, the proof was against you. You’ve seen the pictures, everyone has seen them, and they felt so real that your certainties have faltered. How to convince them that you are innocent when you are not even sure yourself? Eventually, you gave in, it is a battle you couldn’t win.

“When is it, already?” you sighed, eventually giving in. An argument against Tony Stark was another battle you knew you couldn’t win.

The man has been the only exception. He has watched over you from afar, and believed your version of the events. For once, he has listened, and it means the world to you. So even if you try to not wince at the enthusiasm he lets out on the other end of the phone, a part of you is happy. It doesn’t matter if things don't go well, at least that would have pleased the billionaire, and you owe it to him, even if you couldn’t match his enthusiasm, too anxious for that.

For a second, you thought about changing your mind. Your fingers were a centimeter away from the interphone, but you haven’t rung the bell yet. It would be so easy to listen to your instinct that is screaming at you to run away. It would be so easy to break the promise you’ve made to Tony, he wouldn’t mind right? Yes, despite the disappointment, he would understand that you couldn’t do that. It was too early and too much. You shouldn’t even have taken that call, it is always a bad idea to trust a billionaire, especially when his last name is Stark.

The last time you’ve set foot in the Avengers Tower, it has been two years ago. You haven’t seen them since, only their pictures in the news. One time, you’ve thought about going to one of those press conferences they hold sometimes, but you knew you wouldn’t be welcome — Maybe they even added your name to the list of bans. You aren’t welcome anywhere near them, they made it clear when they threw you away.

It is as if all the years spent by their side have been erased. Even the world seems to have forgotten your name. It is almost as if you have never been a part of the Avengers, as if you’ve never existed, and it was just something you mind made.

Maybe it’s for the best, you thought.

Yet, here you are. In front of the building you left years ago, promising to yourself that you’ll never come back in here. That day, you felt so humiliated that you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t add the shame to crawl back at their feet, begging for their forgiveness. No, no matter how bad you were craving to throw yourself in their arms, you won’t. Never, ever. Except that, sometimes, circumstances change, and you find yourself unable to refuse your friend’s crazy invitation, despite the dangerousness of his plan.

“Pl- please, ‘tasha, let me ex~,” you were begging the woman. It wasn’t your kind but exceptional situations call for exceptional reactions, and the one you found yourself in certainly was. 

Tears aren’t your style either, nor it’s Natasha’s. Yet, both of your cheeks are stained with them, your eyes reddened. She is angry, and you are frustrated. She is full of hatred, and you are full of despair. But, today, something broke in both your hearts.

“Shut up,” she said firmly, not giving you a chance to explain yourself. She didn’t want to hear a word from your bullshit. None of them want to. “You’ve lost the right to call me that way,” she added, spitting every one of those hate-filled words in your face, “honestly, you’ve even lost the right to talk to me. I don’t want to hear your voice or to see your face ever again. Did I make myself clear?” she yelled. You would have never thought that she could speak to you in such an angry, hateful tone, and yet, here you are.

She has, indeed, made her intentions clear. When you came home, you found your clothes scattered on the pavement in front of the tower. She hasn’t waited for your explanations before deciding to throw all your belongings away. You were quick to follow them, you barely stepped into the building that she was here to drag you out of the building.

You have never seen your loved one in such a state. She isn’t even acknowledging your pleas for her to slow down, or at least to loosen her grip on your arm. But she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care anymore if you were hurt, or if you were stumbling on your feet — If she had to drag you out by the hair, she would do it without hesitating. 

The Natasha that was scared she could hurt you was long gone. She wasn’t the one that swore to protect you anymore, you’ve seen in her gaze that the promises she made no longer stand. She has a stern, harsh expression painted on her face, and it was your fault. She hadn’t hit you, not yet, but you could still feel how her nails are digging into your skin, leaving a mark that will stay for days. It is a reminder of what you’ve lost that day, not that you could forget.

A second later, you collide with concrete. She throws you on the ground, alongside your belongings, with all the strength she has — And she is a former russian spy, so she’s got plenty. The force of the gesture causes you to stumble over your own feet and fall, scraping your hands and knees in the process. You don’t even try to get up. Dejected, you remain on the ground, barely daring to turn around to see her one last time.

“Don’t you dare to come back, you are not welcome here anymore,” she said before walking away, and disappearing behind the doors of the tower. You wanted to say something but the words didn’t come out, nothing you could say felt right.

It is the last time you’ve seen her, and as pitiful as it is, you have long cherished this last contact with the redhead. No matter how violent and hateful it has been, it was still the last time you’ve touched the love of your life, and you missed it the moment she let go of your arm. Her, and her touch. Despite everything, despite the years, you still needed her presence by your side, and it doesn’t matter if your relationship has to be brutal, you are ready to accept anything if it means being close to her for a few more days.

The rest of the team stayed here until you left. Your eyes met theirs, pleading them to at least say something, but you didn’t get the help you were looking for, their hatred toward you matching Natasha’s. Clint, Steve and Sam, they are all people that you thought were your friends, except they didn’t hesitate a second before siding with the redhead.

Steve has been the first one to leave, almost running after the woman. Before they disappear in the elevator, you’ve caught his hand resting on her shoulder. You should be the one to touch her like that, the one to hold and comfort her, but this right has been taken from you, and maybe you deserve it. You broke the trust she put in you, one that she doesn’t grant easily.

You’ve always known it was a bad idea. In fact, since the moment he suggested that you should come to Natasha’s birthday, you’ve had a bad feeling about it. He thought that it would help you, knowing that you had been living in isolation since you’ve left the team, and a part of you believed him. The same part that never stopped hoping that things could go back to the way they were. 

Until today.

If there is something you’ve learned from that experience, it’s that things will never be as they were because it’s nothing more than a pipe dream. The past two years, you have continuously dreamed about that moment, when you would eventually see her again. You’ve even made up a whole apology speech, one that would erase all your mistakes, and if it’s not enough, then maybe you would have begged them until they forgive you — Promises be damned. In any case, it would have ended with a hug with Natasha, a happy reunion after all those years spent apart. 

Except that none of that happened, because reality isn’t fiction, and you don’t deserve a happy ending. To be fair, you could have never imagined that the reunion would go like this, that you wouldn’t even be able to exchange a word with them because they had no idea that you were here. You couldn’t have imagined that the barriers you have built over the last few years would crumble the moment you set foot in the tower that once was your home.

The tears were streaming down your face, hidden behind that ridiculous mascot costume Tony had forced you to wear. He assured you that it was all part of his plan, the one that’s supposed to make everything better, but honestly, you’ve never felt so ridiculous and pitiful than when you put on that costume that’s supposed to look like a cartoon version of Natasha. That is the genius idea Tony’s came up with a few weeks ago ; having you wear a suit so that you could attend Natasha’s birthday party without anyone knowing.

You thought that you were strong enough to face them, but it turned out that you weren’t. There is nothing that hurts more than realizing you are nothing more than a stranger in your own house. An intruder, that’s exactly what you are. You should enjoy the moment, but you can’t, your heart races, fearing they could guess you’re the one behind the costume.

You were watching them from the corner of the terrace where you found refuge after giving them a little show, and you noticed that all of them, without exception, had a bright smile on their faces. You should be glad that they overcame the difficulties of life, right?

Then why is the only thing you are feeling agonizing jealousy?

Because you were slowly realizing that things changed after you left them, and maybe it was for the best. That’s what you’ve heard them saying in an interview they held a few months after your departure — “Yes, the team has undergone some changements, and we believe it’s for the best” — and maybe they were right, because you don’t remember seeing them being so peaceful in the past. They never clearly said that you’ve been banned from the team, nor they talked publicly about the events that lead to your departure, but people weren’t stupid, they guessed that it was because of something you did.

All days are the same since.

You wake up early, but it’s not the sign of a healthy life, only of a light sleep that is disturbed by the slightest noise and glint of sunlight. The thought of a new day only makes you sigh, what’s the point when every day is the same? They are all filled with loneliness and misery, and you are not sure you have the strength to deal with that, so you don’t move an inch, waiting for the night to come again. 

Sometimes, you get out of the bed you’ve been rotting in, but it’s not before you are so hungry that your whole body is uncontrollably shaking. That's the only time you leave the darkness of your flat, when you go to that small shop at the end of the street to get something to eat. You would buy anything and everything here, but especially junk food that can be eaten quickly. Most of the time, it’s PastaBox or anything with chocolate,  the papers piling up in the kitchen as the days go by, but you’ve never had the heart to take down the overflowing bin.

Waking up, rotting in bed, eating a bit if you are really hungry, going back to rot in your bed, then crying until Morpheus comes to get you, that’s now what your days are.

It’s a strange situation. You have mourned people before, but never someone who’s still alive, never your whole life, never yourself. You are still alive. You know it because you are still breathing and your heart is beating, but it feels like you are not anymore. You don’t even want to cry anymore, you are just laying here, waiting for something to happen, anything. Maybe death. Maybe it’ll eventually come for you, and that moment will be the sweetest. It would be a relief, and not only for yourself.

You don’t want to think about the fact that it may not be. What would be the point in suffering if it’s not to get a threat at the end? The possibility that nothing will come after that life feels unfair, and scary. When you are not finding comfort in your death, you are looking for it by imagining a universe where your life with Natasha wouldn’t have ended that way, where none of that happened.

These are the thoughts that lull you to sleep every night, but the next day, when you wake up, the ache in your heart is back. It never seems to fade away, the pain being as strong as it was on the first day. If anything, it got worse. You are aware that every day that passes takes you further away from those ideals, dashing your hopes of getting your old life back. Your despair grew as you realized that all you were doing was pulling away from the love of your life, and there was nothing you could do to get her back. 

What is going to happen when you’re going to forget about how it feels being close to her?

What if you forget everything? Her voice, smile, and the smell of her clothes? 

The few times you are getting out of your apartment, you are walking with your head down, hiding behind the hood of your sweatshirt, and today isn’t an exception. The weather isn’t that cold, but the collar of your sweatshirt is still up to your chin, leaving only your eyes for the world to see. The ones that are fixed to your feet, avoiding to look around.

You used to do that to avoid paparazzi and insistent fans the days you were too tired to interact with the world, but you are now doing it to avoid problems. Your face and name have been all over the news after, and not for good reasons. People had no idea what had really happened, but their imaginations had no trouble imagining the worst and spreading rumors. It has been years, but the world still hasn't forgiven you for things you’ve never done.

In a few days, the way people see you changed drastically. You went from being one of the country’s greatest heroes to being canceled. The smiles turned into hateful looks, compliments into insults, and although no one has tried to hit you, you prefer to keep a low profile. The fall has been painful, but it isn’t surprising.

How could you expect strangers to believe you when even your oldest friends didn’t?

You have never been their favorite anyway, and you are perfectly aware of that. You are not a former spy, nor are you a genius or an enhanced human. You have nothing special, and the world knows your name only because of your teammates. It’s not a big surprise that they prefer them, and decided to side with the real Avengers.

But maybe they’re right. Maybe things are better that way, because you are not sure you deserve being loved. What you’ve tried to say to ‘tasha is true, you can’t remember what happened that night — At least, not the details that matters —, and that is the worst in your situation. The doubt creeping inside of you, and the guilt mixed with the frustration because you're as likely to be innocent as guilty.

Did you do it?

Did you cheat on her for real?

You are walking as fast as you can, only wanting to get home as quickly as possible, shaking your head in an attempt to get rid of those poisonous thoughts. You didn’t stay long at the party, barely half an hour has elapsed before you decided that you had enough. At least you’ve seen her blowing the candles, even if you left without saying a word to the woman. The thought crossed your mind for a second before you decided it was safer not to break the peace she had built up.

She deserves to be happy, even if it means that you are not a part of her life anymore. 

The only trace of your passage that you have left is a black box. You have hesitated to leave it on the pile of gifts, as she would know it was from you, but it didn’t feel right to keep for yourself the gift you were supposed to give her two years ago. It isn’t yours. You wished you could have stayed longer, just to see her reaction when she opens the box, just to see her smile one last time, to make her smile one last time before saying goodbye forever.

That night, you’ve been crying uncontrollably, and so did you the following days until you have no more tears to shed. Gladly, thanks to Fury, you have a bed to spend your days in. The man has been kind enough to pay for your rent until things get back to normal — That’s the promise he has made to you, that he will quickly find a solution. 

A new place for you to work at, in another country, far from everything you’ve known, where you weren’t hated by everyone: that’s the solution he came up with. “The furthest you are from the Avengers, the better it is. At least for a few months, we need things to calm down,” he told you that day, and you agreed. Not that you had a choice because if you had, maybe you would’ve said no. But there was no choice but to accept to leave everything you’ve ever known behind you — Your family, your friends, your memories. 

Did you for real?

That story is sticking to your skin, and the memories to your mind. Whenever you are going, people are glancing at you, and you are sure it’s because they know. Whenever you are going, all you can see is a glimpse of your past, ghosts that are haunting your present. The world will never forget, nor forgive your mistakes, and you understand them, because you don’t think you can either.

Every morning, when you wake up, it is the first thing you are thinking about. Every night, when you are about to sleep, it is the last one, until it becomes an obsession. Except it didn’t give you your memories back. The opposite has even happened, your mind confusing what you remember with what you've been told, trying to fill the gaps.

At one point, you were so desperate that you almost asked Fury, or Tony, if they didn’t have some technology that could help you to recover your memories. You’ve even thought about asking Wanda, but it was impossible to reach the woman, and maybe it’s for the best. You can’t deny that a part of you is scared of what you might find. You’ve once read that, sometimes, the brain keeps some memories away for a good reason — It is a response to trauma.

But for you, you were sure it was alcohol. You don’t remember how many drinks you had that night, but probably a lot if you can’t remember how the evening ended. The last thing you remember is talking with Astrid, one of your colleagues from SHIELD that invited you for a drink. The next time you remember is when you wake up in that motel. From the moment you opened your eyes, everything happened so fast.

You couldn’t take your eyes out of the pictures which were hung up all over the offices, you even kept some of those. But they are the worst. The thing you can see on those, the two of you in that stupid bed, her kissing your throat, and even more, it feels so foreign. Your brain refuses to accept that you are the one in the pictures. Yet, it's undeniable proof of what you've done that night. 

You are so lost that it hurts your brain. 

Sometimes, you wish that someone was here. Anyone that would take your hand, and guide you through this story. Most of the time, you imagine that it’s her, Natasha. That she is here, holding you in her arms, whispering in your ears that everything is going to be okay, exactly as she used to do. 

Then, you realize that she is not here, and everything crumbles again. 

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

| Taglist — @m0nsterqzzz, @marvelwomenarehot0

[stayevildarling]

could you write a natasha x reader fic based on the song wait a minute. maybe reader leaves her diary in nat's place and she reads it? something smutty, possibly a bit of corruption?

Natasha Romanoff x Reader- Wait a minute

A/N: thank you for this request anon! I'm always a bit self conscious about writing smut because I'm worried it's bad but here we go.

tags/warning: female reader, nsfw, corruption kink, mommy kink, bondage, oral, fingering, reader receiving

word count: 5.5k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahs , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples

The sound of grunting echoes through the training room inside the avengers compound, your body hitting the mat for what feels like the hundredth time today. Gasping for air, you look up at Natasha, your mentor, towering over you, her chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. Every movement she makes is controlled and calculated, fitting for the woman who had been a trained spy and assassin at first before becoming a famous avenger.

,,Focus, солнышко'' she teases in a low, provocative tone, offering you a gloved hand to pull you up. ,,If you keep getting distracted, you will never improve''.

You can't help but flush under her gaze, sighing at the same time. The black widow has always had this effect on you, ever since you joined the recruiting programme several months ago. Mr. Stark had come across you through his contacts and wanted to bring you along straight away but some newer rules and contracts insisted on every potential new avenger to go through their skilled training programme, making sure you are ready to fight in battle. Steve Rodgers and Natasha mostly led those and much to your disliking, you had been paired with the redhead. Ever since seeing her in person for the first time, you had been in awe, feeling the attraction towards the woman and unable to shake it.

You knew from the start you shouldn't glance at her the way you did, but there was something about her that you couldn't shake. The way her body moved, the command in her voice, the knowing smirk on her lips every time she ghosts over you, the faint smell of her perfume mingling with sweat. It drove you crazy, made you forget every single thing you had trained so hard for, your goals, your desires and your usual shyness around strangers, only ever focusing on your work and goals and never usually one to back away from those, mostly keeping to yourself.

Her fingers curl around your wrist, pulling you up effortlessly as if you weigh nothing at all. She doesn't let go right away though, instead she holds your hand just a second too long, her eyes flickering down briefly to where your skin made contact. Your breathing hitches, your pulse quickening in your chest in that all too familiar way again.

,,You're distracted again'' she murmurs, barely above a whisper, some more recruits slowly filling the training room. She leans in close enough that her breath brushes your ear. ,,I think I know why''. In response you swallow hard, stepping back as you register more people in the room and trying to remain professional, your shy side suddenly bubbling to the surface. Natasha doesn't miss the way your eyes dart around the room, the blush on your cheeks. She never misses anything.

,,Again'' her voice snaps you back into the moment and she was already preparing for the next round. You couldn't concentrate, not when every fiber of your body feels turned on whenever she is around. The way she stands, the curves of her body, the glint of amusement in her green eyes, her red curls falling freely- god she was breathtaking and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep this up.

A few nights later, the compound is completely silent, most of the avengers either sound asleep or on missions. As the seasons had changed, the rain was now a constant friend, always pattering against the large windows and making the days much colder. Natasha finds herself lingering outside your room. She hadn't meant to, her legs had simply carried her there after a few days of noticing how you fumbled around her, how you could barely meet her gaze without the signs of nervousness. It was cute really. The black widow had been curious about you from day one, noticing you in the room full of recruits that Tony so enthusiastically introduced. You had been so excited, yet so shy around everyone, especially the avengers but especially her. Then she began training you, excited after everything Tony had told her about you and your shyness only turned her on more, seeing how she can make you an absolute mess with a single glance or touch, causing you to forget your strength, causing you to falter and since then she had been fantasising what you would feel like underneath her, falling apart but the way she wanted you, underneath her, naked.

The redhead had mostly been curious, something about you intrigued her, the raw mix of innocence and desire that you tried so hard to keep hidden, expect you were doing an awful job of it. The door to your room is slightly cracked and Natasha's eyes almost instantly fall on your small desk near the window. There it is. A small leather bound journal, half covered by some files, left innocently open. A smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, it's too tempting to resist.

She slips into the room, making sure the hallway is clear before she quietly shuts the door behind her. She had known about your journal for a while now, sometimes seeing you in a quiet corner writing in it's pages while looking so innocent and she had grown curious, needing to know the contents so badly. With silent and practiced movements, she moves towards the desk. The journal is well worn, it's pages slightly curled at the edges, as if you had been pouring your thoughts in this for years.

Her fingers ghost over the corner of your journal, her eyes glinting with curiosity and something darker. She can't help but flip it open gently, the pages crackling under her touch as she reads through the first few entries. It's as she expected, your experience training, notes on some training missions, thoughts on the avengers and compound. A few personal notes about your upbringing, your family, some rough days. But as she goes further, the writing begins to shift and her name appears for the first time. You had done your best to keep your feelings and desires hidden but within these pages you let go, writing about your fantasies, how her touch lingering made you feel, how your heart races whenever she is nearby, how it would be like between you two if things could be.. different.

The further that she reads, the more personal and explicit it becomes, your handwriting shaky as you describe how it feels when her hand brushes your waist, how the heat spreads through your body when she hovers above you while training. How you touch yourself to the thought of her, how the mere mention of her name sometimes causes you to force your legs closed, how you want to feel her lips, her hands roam your body, wondering what her lips taste like, what it would feel like if she would make you feel so good. A few pages further and you begin revealing your desires, wanting to completely give your trust to your mentor, have her blindfold you, have her tie your hands, give her utter and full control over you, wanting to obey her so badly.

Her lips curl into a smile, her amusement deepening with every paragraph. This was all the proof she needed, you had been thinking about her, just like she had expected. Only you had been obsessing a little more than she initially believed, your innocence, so eager to prove yourself, yet so naive and unguarded, leaving your room open while doing your late night training in the gym, leaving your desires written for anyone who might find them. Well, Natasha had found them and that changes everything. She closes the journal quietly and slips it back exactly where and how she had found it, her mind already miles away. She suspected the attraction was mutual but now she knew just how deep it runs through your body and it thrills her.

She knew just what to do as she goes to bed that night, tomorrow she would act like nothing had changed, she would still be your mentor, the black widow and avenger, calculating and composed but she had the upper hand now and it both aroused and excited her.

The next morning, you enter the training room, trying to shake off the lingering sleep. You shiver slightly, the rain and slight wind causing you to freeze a little. You hadn't noticed anything unusual this morning, everything perfectly in place. But as you step inside the empty training room, seeing Natasha standing on the mats, arms crossed, watching you with an expressing you can't quite understand, something feels different.

,,Good morning Y/N'' she says smoothly, her voice almost a little too casual, making the shivering go away as your body burns within an instant. ,,You ready for more sparring?'' she asks and you simply nod, trying to ignore the way her eyes seem to linger on you a little longer than usual. You muster up your courage, after all Natasha always had a way of making you feel like this. Today, it feels even more intimate though, like she is waiting for you to slip up.

As the session begins, you can't help but shake the feeling that she is playing with you. Every one of her moves feels calculated, like when she catches your wrist and twists you around, pinning you to the mat. Instead of pulling back immediately, she leans down, her breath warm against your neck her body pressing into yours, just enough for you to feel the heat radiating off her.

,,You're not focused again'' she murmurs, her lips barely an inch from your ear. ,,You know I hate when you're distracted, right?'' she tuts. Your heart slams in your chest, was this simply your head or was she toying with you? It was like she knew what her closeness did to you, how your thoughts are spiralling with each fleeting moment and every time she touches you.

And then she leans in even closer, her breath ghosting over your ear yet again. ,,Tell me detka'' she purrs, her voice dropping to a whisper that only you can hear. ,,What keeps you so distracted? is there something I should know about?'' she questions so innocently. The question hangs in the air, thick with implication. She doesn't move, her body still pressed against yours, her hand gripping your wrist with just the right amount of control. She is daring you to answer, daring you to reveal the thoughts she already knows. You swallow hard, your pulse racing. You can't form words, you can't breathe but yet you can feel her smirk against your neck, like she is finally waiting for you to crack- waiting for you to admit what she already knows.

,,I'm right here, you know'' she whispers, her voice suddenly utterly comforting. ,,All you have to do is ask'' she teases, causing you to gather control of your strength and escape her grasp. Instinctively, you take a step back, putting a distance between you both as her words repeat in your mind over and over again. You freeze, heart pounding so loudly that you are sure she can hear it. ,,All you have to do is ask'' the words send a flush of heat through your body, right to your core, causing the inability to look at her, or ever respond.

The redhead however feels no rush, not moving an inch as she takes in your features, watching your pretty little brain do all the work as her words sink in. She reads your body language, how you are squeezing your fists, the trembling of your lips and breath. And in that moment you realise she is playing with you, every action before, every word deliberate. She is pushing you, testing your boundaries and suddenly the thought crosses your mind whether this was some sort of avenger thing, whether this was part of your training, whether this was to teach you about distractions on missions and you begin doubting yourself, suddenly feeling embarrassed as all the ,,what if's'' cross your mind.

,,What's wrong?'' she asks, noticing how your behaviour changes from flustered to embarassed and uncomfortable within an instant. ,,You've gone very quiet'' she teases. And then again her tone makes it obvious, causing you to believe she is doing this on purpose. ,,Natasha I-'' you struggle to form a coherent sentence, overwhelmed by your insecurities, the doubting but also the clear attraction and signals your body is sending you.

,,I have read your diary'' she whispers, her voice soft but dangerous. Your stomach drops, a sharp wave of panic surging through you as the words sink in. She knew. Suddenly your face goes incredibly pale as the realisation sinks in that she had read every single one of your thoughts, every filthy dirty secret. Before Natasha can carry on with her game, you abruptly leave, at first feeling like you are going to be sick before feeling the pure embarrassment of this situation. You run to your room so fast that everything begins spinning but Natasha of course is much faster than you.

As you reach your room, a panting mess as you lean against the nearest wall, she is already right behind you, closing the door, before halting. ,,I know what you want detka'' she continues, her tone smooth. ,,I know exactly what you feel when I touch you, when I'm close to you''. ,,You've been thinking about it for a while haven't you?'' You can't help but bite your lip, desperately trying to catch and control your breathing. There is no point in denying it now, she has all the power.

,,Natasha I-'' you start again but your voice falters, you can't admit it, not yet, not with how she is so close yet so far away. ,,It's okay, you don't have to say anything darling'' she teases. With slow and deliberate steps, she approaches you but you back away just as slowly. And almost as if the two of you dance, your breath hitching with every step she is taking towards you, you suddenly reach the wall, again now her having the full control over you.

Her fingers slide down your arm, trailing over your waist before settling at your hip, her grip firm and possessive. She doesn't move quickly, she isn't rushing. She is savouring this, taking her sweet time with you. ,,I can make it real for you'' she whispers against your ear, her lips barely brushing the side of it. ,,Everything you wrote down, every little thought sweetheart... I'm going to give it to you''.

Your breath hitches, a small moan slipping out, the promise of her words causes your head to spin, You feel her pressing closer, her hand slipping up your side, leaving a trail of heat. You can't help but arch your back, just slightly, into her touch. The tension had been building between you for so long and it's finally there that you can't fight it back any longer.

,,You have thought about this detka, haven't you?'' her voice is low, her lips ghosting over your skin. ,,About me doing this.. holding you down, making you admit how badly you want it''. And of course the trained spy was right, it had been there all along in your journal, the words you had spilled out late at night while touching yourself to the thought of her. You had thought about her in control, the way she could dominate you, and now she was right there, willing to give it all to you.

Her fingers curl into your waist, tugging you just a little closer to her, enough for you to feel her breath hot on your neck. ,,I know you want this'' she whispers, her voice soft but commanding. ,,You don't have to hide it anymore, pretty baby'' she encourages. You tremble under her touch, the weight of her words sending a thrill right through you. Every inch of you is tense with anticipation, waiting hoping. She had taken the first step and there was no turning back now.

,,Tell me darling'' she murmurs, her lips inches away from your own, her voice dripping with control. ,,Are you ready to stop pretending?'' she questions.

,,Yes'' the answer quite literally bursts out of you as you meet her gaze, unable to pretend any longer, needing her, wanting her with every fibre of your being. A knowing smirk creeps it's way onto her features, this being what she had wanted all along and now she had you right where she wanted you. ,,Good'' she whispers before stepping back. ,,Meet me tonight in my room at 8pm'' she instructs and your mouth is left hanging open in shock. ,,What?!'' you ask, your breathing heavy. ,,And don't you dare touch yourself darling, I need you to be good and patient for me'' she teases, kissing your cheek before disappearing from your room, leaving you a panting mess.

The rest of the day passes by in a painfully slow blur, your mind completely consumed by her words, her presence still lingering on your skin, and the promise of what was to come tonight. Every second feels agonisingly slow, despite you opting for an everything shower, taking your sweet time as you get your body clean and ready for the redhead. You make sure to choose one of your expensive lotions, your favourite underwear and dress. ,,Don't touch yourself, darling'' the words keep repeating in your mind, your body aching with frustration.

Your entire focus is on 8 pm tonight, when you would finally be in her room alone. What would she do? What would she want from you? The very thought makes your stomach flutter with a mixture of nerves and excitement. You try and distract yourself as much as you can but nothing can pull you out of the haze that Natasha has left on you.

By the time you arrive at her door, your heart is hammering in your chest. You stand there frozen for a moment, nerves twisting in your stomach, your hand frozen mid air before knocking. Finally, you force yourself to tap your knuckles against the wood, the sound final and sharp. The door creaks open almost immediately, revealing Natasha standing there, dressed in something far more relaxed than her usual combat gear, a simple black tank top and loose sweatpants. But there is nothing casual about the way she looks at you, her eyes roaming over the dress, your exposed skin. ,,Come in'' she offers, stepping aside to let you pass.

You swallow hard and enter the room, it's dimly lit, warm and inviting but the air feels thick with tension. Natasha closes the door, behind you with a quiet click and suddenly it feels like you are trapped, no escape or turning back. You stand in the middle of the room, unsure what to do with yourself as your body buzzes with anticipation. The redhead circles around you slowly, her eyes never leaving yours, as if she is savouring every second of your discomfort, every tremble running through you.

,,You listened to me didn't you?'' she asks, her voice low and teasing. ,,You didn't touch yourself?'' she questions, causing you to nod quickly, your mouth dry, struggling to find your voice. ,,Good girl'' she praises, stopping in front of you, her hand reaching out to gently cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet her gaze. ,,You're going to be so good for me tonight, aren't you?'' she whispers. Her words send another shiver down your spine, you open your mouth to respond but Natasha doesn't give you the chance. Her lips crash into yours, hot and demanding, her fingers gripping your jaw with just enough force to keep you exactly where she wants you.

Her lips overwhelm you, consuming every bit of you, gaining every ounce of control over you within an instant as her mouth moves against yours, her tongue teasing, coaxing you to give in. You can't help but melt into her touch, your hand instinctively reaching for her waist, pulling her closer to you. But before you can lose yourself completely, Natasha pulls back, her breath heavy, her lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss. She smirks down at you, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip as if she is claiming it, marking what is now hers.

,,Patience'' she whispers, her voice sending a thrill through you. ,,I'm not done with you yet'' she teases as she steps behind you. You close your eyes, feeling her circling you like prey again. Before you know it you feel a cool silk fabric covering your eyes as she blindfolds you, just like in your entries. Next, her hand brushes down your arm, finding your hand in hers and leading you somewhere. It felt both scary and exciting, giving her control, strangely trusting the woman with your entire life. It all passes by in a blur as she lays you on what you assume to be the bed, in an instant lifting your arms above your head before you feel something cool but much sharper on your wrists and the clicking moments later only confirms your fantasies about being chained to her bed.

The room is absolutely silent, the only sound to be heard your own breathing and despite your inability to see you can feel the woman's presence as the bed dips moments later. ,,You have been so patient, waiting for this so long detka'' she whispers as she hovers above you, her breath hot on your body. Her fingers begin gently trailing down your arms, causing you to shiver, your breath hitching yet again. Her hands begin trailing lower and lower but painfully slow, causing you to move your hands, testing the restraints but you quickly learn it's no use, Natasha smirking as she finally had you right where she wanted, solely in her control.

The black widow takes her sweet time, watching as goosebumps form on your arms with every bit of movement of her fingers, watching as your thighs press together when her hands slowly reach your bottom half. Your nipples perfectly peak through the dress, causing Natasha to bite her lip in anticipation. She had every intention of taking it slow with you, knowing she could do anything and everything but there is something so sweet, so innocent about you in this moment that she finds it hard to control herself, wanting to feel you right now, wanting to draw out all those sweet little noises she had fantasised about for weeks now.

After endless teasing and her kissing about every inch of your body, already having you a whimpering mess, she finally begins moving your dress, exposing your underwear and she smirks as she notices the mess you had made simply from her touches. ,,Oh my..you are soaked'' she smiles, causing your cheeks to glow red but your breathing still heavy as you need her so badly at this point. ,,Please Natasha'' you beg, unable to keep any form of dignity at this point as you need her to touch you, to make you feel good just like she had promised you.

And this time she uses the surprise element, ripping off your underwear in one deliberate movement before her tongue dives right into your glistening core, giving you no chance to adjust, no chance to catch your breathing as you begin whimpering uncontrollably. The redhead begins devouring you, your taste even sweeter than she could have ever imagined, knowing already she was never going to get sick of the taste. Your hands form into fists despite the cuffs, your chest heaving as the pleasure runs through your body, so close to the edge already as you had waited so long, so patiently and had grown so desperate. ,,Fuck'' she pants as she catches her breath for a second. ,,You taste so good detka'' she praises, sending you into another moaning fit.

The black widow had considered for a while just what she was going to do to you tonight, whether she was going to use any of her toys on you, stretch you out the way she had imagined. But again she had learnt through your diary that you aren't too experienced, wanting to cherish tonight, do exactly what she had read you wanted. And so she begins diving into you again, this time at a much more brutal pace, causing you to lose yourself completely in the moment, the only thing you are able to do at this point, breathing and moaning. She doesn't stop, relentlessly pushing her tongue into your core, already able to feel you clenching around her, your juices flowing freely on her tongue, causing her own arousal to get the better of her.

For a moment she stops, not to punish you, not to torture you longer but simply to smile at you. You are perfect, exactly what she wanted and needed, a perfect little toy for her to play with, so good, so obedient and she knows she wanted to take your time with you from now on, not wanting this to be the only time she would get to see you fall apart for this. She watches in awe as you move against the restraints, your body simply a shivering mess before she smirks ,,You have done so good sweetheart'' she praises, causing you to smile a little which only makes her feel even more for you in this moment.

Without warning she enters one of her fingers and you immediately clench around her, the release so close yet so far away. She knows you could fall apart simply from one finger but she needed to hear you, needed you to beg for her. She hovers over you, her finger still moving inside you before she kisses you, her tongue fighting for entrance and you grant it immediately, moaning as you taste your own arousal on her lips. ,,God Natasha please'' you beg as she pulls away and the woman is enjoying this far too much. She leans back, before relentlessly adding another finger, curling them perfectly just to hit your sensitive spot.

,,Please.. god.. Tasha.. Please'' you beg, needing permission, needing her to finally let you cum and feel so good. ,,You sound so good when you beg for me sweetie'' she teases, causing you to pout in frustration. ,,How about you tell mommy exactly what you need?'' she teases, casing you to moan at the name she had chosen for herself, a drooling mess at this point. It takes you a second to recover before you respond. ,,Please mommy, can you fuck me? just fuck me please... I wanna cum for you, I want you to make me feel so good mommy please'' you beg over and over again, the sound so sweet it almost causes Natasha to tip over the edge.

,,Good girl'' she praises before she begins relentlessly pounding into your glistening pussy, her tongue finding your clit and the sensation sends you into overdrive, causing your entire body to shake as your orgasm begins washing over you. ,,Please mommy, may I cum?'' you ask and this was it. This was exactly what Natasha needed, she never expected you to be this good and obedient especially after the first time and she was sure she was going to please you in every way now. Her fingers move faster, curling deeper and harder into your core as her tongue flicks circles around your clit, and before you know it, she feels your walls tightening around your fingers, your white precious liquid spilling out of your core and onto her fingers, the sweet juice hitting her taste buds again as her tongue savours every single drop.

You didn't even realise you had been screaming for the entirety of your orgasm, never having felt something like this feeling in your entire life. Natasha had simply enjoyed, watched you as she savoured every bit of your dripping cum, her fingers still right where they had been. ,,Oh god'' you moan as you try and catch your breathing. ,,You did so good detka'' she praises as she finally pulls back and slowly extracts her fingers, knowing you must feel so sensitive now. With slow and gentle movements, she undoes the handcuffs and blindfold, finally granting you freedom again. You feel dizzy as you open your eyes, still in a haze of the orgasm that had washed over you moments before, your breathing still heavy. ,,Taste yourself detka'' she orders as she holds her two fingers out to your mouth and you obey as she hovers above you again, meeting her eyes that now seem much softer, much more content, almost as if you had pleased her.

She smiles as she kisses your lips, before pulling back ,,You did so well detka'' she praises, causing your cheeks to coat in a slight red shade again. Before you know it however, she gets up, leaving the bed as she gets rid of her supplies, walking away to get a wipe and clean her hands. Despite the daze of your orgasm and this night, your heart still pounding in your chest, you sit up on her bed, collecting yourself and pulling your dress up. ,,What are you doing?'' she questions, her eyebrows knitting as she comes back from the bathroom. ,,Um I- I wasn't sure if you wanted me to leave now'' you mumble, almost a little shy and she tilts her head before tutting. ,,Leave?'' she chuckles lowly. ,,Oh detka, I'm running us a bath, I'm far from done with you'' she teases and your stomach drops at her words, the earlier excitement rushing right back through you, knowing this wasn't a one time thing and curious what else she had planned for you. And if one thing was clear, Natasha wasn't going to let you go, not now, not ever, having found her perfect little detka, so innocent, so sweet and so obedient, just for her.