#natasha romanoff series

[natsarrownecklacx]

Cruelty Is An Art Form Pt.2

Word Count- 3,183

Summary- Your the daughter of one of New York’s most known Mob leaders. Unfortunately, you’ve caught the attention of New York’s most feared Mob leader, Natasha Romanoff.

Warnings- Dark Natasha Romanoff, Smut, Minors this fic if not for you, Knife kink, Fear kink, mentions of kidnapping, allusion to death/ murder, dub con, slight daddy kink. Lmk if I missed anything.

Part One

ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ

Natasha walks you out of the bar with one arm wrapped securely around your waist. A blade, concealed by her suit jacket, pokes you dully in the side, engulfing you in the fear that acting out in any way will lead to your death. 

She pushes you into the back seat of her car, spinning the blade tauntingly in her hand as she instructs her driver to take you both to her home.

The car starts to move instantly and you turn your attention to the world slowly edging by outside the window. You watch as the sky turns to shades of red and yellow then slowly fade to a dark, leached gray in an attempt to distract yourself from the panic you feel coiling in your chest.

You don’t look at Natasha, not even once, as you make the drive from the city to her house in the countryside. She doesn’t try to speak to you or gain your attention in any way either, which you are grateful for. 

She sits so still, so quietly, that you’ve almost convinced yourself that she isn't really there. That, or she’d forgotten about you altogether. Either way you just hope that whatever is keeping her occupied lasts at least until the end of the car ride. 

What you didn’t know is that Natasha has not taken her eyes off of you once since you both left the bar. She’s just contented herself in watching you, imagining all the different ways she can play with you once she gets back to her house. That is, until she grows bored of only using her imagination. 

You feel the cold pinch of metal against the bare skin of your thigh before you feel her move toward you. You flinch inturnaly and pray that if you don’t acknowledge her behavior, she’ll remove the blade from its place on your leg and shuffle back to the other side of the seat. 

She holds the blade lazily against your thigh, swirling it against your skin to create intricate, twirls and designs. She doesn’t press hard enough to draw blood, but the knife is sharp enough to leave faint lines of red in its wake. 

Your heart picks up its pace in your chest, thudding against your ribs at a speed that makes you dizzy. 

Natasha watches with predatory eyes as your breathing picks up, finding a twisted pleasure in the way your chest rises and falls rapidly as she twists and loops the blade against the plush skin of your thigh. 

It only takes a few minutes before the enjoyment she feels watching you starts to fade. The now familiar quickened pace of your breath and uncomfortable shifting of your body boars her. So she decides to take it a step further, moving the blade higher up your thigh. 

Your breath hitches, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the redhead, a sly smile making its way over her face at hearing the sound. Natasha smirks maliciously to herself, leaning in tauntingly slowly and placing open mouth kisses on the side skin of your neck. 

You gasp quietly at the attention she gives the delicate skin and try to shuffle away. Hot, molten shame courses through your veins upon realizing that her actions are making arousal pool in the pit of your stomach. You close your legs against the feeling, willing it to go away. 

Natasha, however, has other ideas. She pushes down slightly on the blade, making it pierce your skin in warning and she delights in the whimper that leaves your lips at the stinging sensation and your compliance to unclench your thighs. 

Natasha continues her path of leaving marks on you, picking up where she left off in the bar. She moves the knife up and down your thigh without pause, using her other hand to massage and grope at the plush flesh of your neglected thigh. 

She moves her attention to your pulse point, gently nipping and sucking at the area. A needy whine leaves your lips as your mind slips from its surroundings and plunges you into a fuzzy headspace, the alcohol and lust running through your system lowering your inhibitions to a damn near non-existent level. 

Natasha moves hand unoccupied by the blade to your chest, groping and kneading the flesh in a way that has the heat in your stomach sliding down between your legs. You lean your head against the back of the seat, unconsciously closing your eyes, arching your back forward and spreading your legs for the widow. 

Natasha smirks against the skin of your neck, taking the opportunity to press the flat of the blade between your legs, directly onto your clit. She watches in awe as your head tilts back and a pitiful, needy moan falls from your lips, the cold of the blade setting your senses on fire. 

She’d had a feeling when she’d seen you at the bar that you were different from every other girl she’d known before, but this is not what she was expecting. 

Hot arousal pools in Natasha’s stomach, making her clench her thighs together. She tries to sit quietly in her seat, not wanting to pull you from your blissed out headspace. 

Your hips start to move against the cold metal pressed against your cotton panties, eliciting quite whimpers and moans from your lips. 

“Fuck.” She whispers, feeling her slick slide into her panties and stick them to her dripping folds. She watches with dilated eyes as you get yourself off on the metal, grinding your hips into it and clenching your fists on either side of your body. 

Soft moans and whimpers leave your mouth as you do, the heat between your legs building to the point that only a few more thrusts will push you over the edge. 

It's not until you absentmindedly whine out “Daddy” that Natasha loses her will to restrain herself. Without allowing herself to really register what she is doing she grabs your hand from beside you, shoves it between her legs and wasting absolutely no time before closing her thighs around it and grinding down. 

The rough and sudden movement pulls you from your absent headspace, bringing you back to yourself and your current situation. You yelp out and jump away from the woman beside you.

Tears of shame and disgust fill your eyes as the reality of your actions hit you. This woman has kidnapped you, threatened you and killed hundreds if not thousands of people. Yet you couldn’t help yourself from opening your legs for her. 

Natasha sighs, seeing that she will no longer be getting what she wants. She opens her mouth to speak, no doubt to tell you to get over yourself, that it's only a bit of fun, but her driver and the car pulling to a halt stop her just before the words can leave her mouth. 

“We're here, boss.” 

Natasha looks to the man, thanking him and dismissing him for the night. She then looks back to you, a teasing, evil glint in her eyes as she lifts the blade up to your eye line, showcasing the slick arousal sliding down its surface. 

“Don’t bother acting all innocent, Angel. Having my blade between your legs turns you on, there's no hiding that now.”

You look away in embarrassment, wishing more than anything that a hole could open underneath you and swallow you. Or anything really to make you feel something other than this. 

—-----------------------------------

Natasha opens the car door and steps out, looking over her shoulder expectantly at you. You follow her without complaint, hoping that if you do so she won’t feel the need to pull you along behind her, not wanting to draw anymore attention to the fact that she had her hands all over you only moments ago in a very different context. 

You follow behind her through a huge font door, into an admittedly very nice house. The entryway is filled with paintings and sculptures from what looks to be Greek mythology.  It all comes together in a way that makes the room look decadent and beautiful. It's not at all what you expected her house to look like, but you appreciate the interesting art either way. 

Natasha only acknowledges your presence again when she looks over her shoulder toward you, having reached a door at the end of a long hallway. She pauses briefly after opening the door and gesturing for you to walk inside. 

This room, unlike the one in the hall, is exactly what you think Natasha’s living space should look like. It’s a home study, with a large mahogany desk in the center of the room, what looks to be a drinks cabinet pushed against the left wall and a rather mysterious looking wooden chest in the back left corner, hidden between the wall and the drinks cabinet.

There's a comfortable, old timey looking arm chair in the top right hand corner, with a small drinks table next to it. There are various paintings scattered around the room, each of them depicting different Greek gods and goddesses. 

Natasha walks into the room behind you, shutting the door behind her and walking straight to her desk. She looks toward you, raising a brow at you awkwardly standing in the center of the room, waiting for some kind of instruction. 

Natasha smirks to herself and nods to the armchair in the corner, watching in amusement as you follow her wordless command. 

The second your body meets the leather of the chair Natasha’s voice cuts through the silence of the room, calling for a few of her men, who were stationed around the house, to join you in the study. Each of the men ignore your presence as they enter and stand silently, listening to Natasha order them to find every bit of information they can about you. They leave the way they came, with only a complaint “on it boss” passing through their lips. 

The men leave and the room is plunged into an uncomfortable silence. Natasha doesn’t speak to you or try to touch you at all. She doesn’t taunt or threaten or gloat. She simply sits in the chair behind her desk, a glass of vodka in hand, and stares at you as if you are a five course meal and she is a starved woman. 

This continues on for what feels like hours, but in reality is only thirty minutes, until Natasha’s phone rings, disturbing the quiet in the room and causing you to flinch, not expecting the noise. 

You can’t hear the person speaking to her on the phone, but you can tell from the look in her eyes and the cheshire-like grin on her face that they’ve given her what she wanted.

Natasha’s eyes darken and you swear you can see an idea forming behind the deep pools of green and black.

She puts the phone down without saying a word, her eyes never leaving you as she does so. She bites her lip in thought and turns her attention to her phone, debating her next move for a few seconds before picking the device back up.  

The other person answers quickly and she begins to speak in a language you don’t understand. Sometimes you hear her say your name, your heartrate picking up each time she does so. Whoever she’s talking to seems to be fairly interested in you, seeing as Natasha’s gaze remains on you the entire time. Luckily the call only lasts for a few short minutes. 

“Do svidanyiya.” She says, seemingly happy with the outcome of the call, and hangs up. 

She sits back in her chair, staring at you over the rim of her glass. You can see from the way her grip tightens on her glass and eyes dilate that she is holding herself back from taking you in every way her sick mind can convince. 

You war with yourself internally between dreading the thought of her giving into her urges and the need between your legs begging her to touch you again. To finish what she started hours ago at the bar.

The reason behind her hesitation both confuses and alarms you. It can’t be because she fears retaliation from your family, Natasha isn’t afraid of anyone. Now that she knows who your father is, the reason behind her self restraint is even more confusing. 

Your father is known throughout the underworld of mob leaders as a kinder, more gentle leader. He never takes a life, not unless that life threatens others. He protects his community in any way he can. To Natasha, he’s an easy mark. A weak, pathetic excuse for a man. 

She didn’t even know whose territory she’d been taking over for months, uncaring of who she was leaching from. But now that she knows it’s your father, an idea starts to form in her head, a way for her to kill two birds with one stone. 

You see it on her face the moment it happens, the second her mind becomes resolute on whatever plan she’s making for herself. 

The thought makes you feel sick to your stomach, the idea that you and your father are now known to Natasha, that her plans now involve you both, makes you want to vomit. 

—----------------------------------

It's another ten minutes of Natasha silently staring at you and sipping away at her drink before you work up the courage to speak.  “What will you do with me?” You ask, your voice quiet. 

“Whatever do you mean?” Natasha responds, feigning innocence and looking entirely too amused with your attempt at confidence.

“You know who I am now. You know who my father is. What are you going to do with me?” You press again, this time shoving your fear away and looking her in the eye. “If you're going to kill me I’d rather you get it over with.” 

Natasha tenses at your words, her demeanor changing from lazy and relaxed, teasing even, to angry. The shift in atmosphere scares you, making you shuffle back against the corner of the armchair. 

Natasha watches you as you do so, groaning and leaning back in her chair, her hands coming up to drag down her face. “Fuck, your so pretty when your scared.” 

Her crude words light a flame in your cheeks, a red tint licking over your features as you curl in on yourself more, readily ignoring the burning sensation between your legs ignited by her words and groans. 

“Like I said before, Angle, you're of no use to me dead.” She says, as if she’s bored of saying it again. “So no. I won’t be killing you any time soon.” 

You nod your head slowly at her words, trying to accept them and take in what they mean for you. If she doesn’t want to kill you, what does she want?

Natasha twitches in her seat across from you, losing her internal battle of self restraint, and draws you out of your thoughts, bringing you attention to her. She stands, making her way over to you in quick strides and grabbing you by the neck before you can even process her standing from her seat. 

You look up at her, confusion and fear evident in your eyes as you claw at her hand and splutter for breath. Natasha allows herself a moment to take in the sight in front of her before she comes to her senses and pulls back, muttering a frustrated “fuck” while you cough for air. 

“I’m not used to having to control myself.” She mumbles angrily, pacing back and forth in front of you. “When I want something, I take it. When I want someone, I have them.” 

Natasha stops pacing suddenly and turns to look at you so fast you're sure she must have given herself some form of whiplash. “No. I have to do things differently with you. I have to do this the right way.”  She says the last words through gritted teeth, as if they physically pains and disgusts her. 

“Get out.” She says, before shouting a woman's name over her shoulder and making her way back over to her desk.

“What?” You ask, shock clear in your voice as you stand from your chair on shaky legs. 

A woman in a maid outfit enters the room with her head bowed, her voice coming out even but fearful as she asks, “You called for me, miss?” Natasha nods her head and commands the woman to take you to a guest room, to bring you a change of clothes and a hot meal. 

“You're just going to feed me and let me sleep?” You ask, skeptical of the woman's unexpected kindness toward you. 

Natasha snaps her head up to look at you, her eyes wide and challenging. “Would you prefer to stay here and be bent over my desk?” 

Her words light a heat in your stomach, one that you can’t ignore but also brings you shame. You shouldn’t feel that way about her, at all, yet you do. You shake your head at her words, pleading with any god out there that she wouldn’t make the offer again, not sure you could resist her a second time. 

“No?” Natasha taunts, her eyes zeroing in on the squeeze of your thighs. “Leave then. Maria will show you to your room.” 

You follow the brunette out of the room without another complaint. She leads you up a big set of stairs and down various long hallways with lots of twists and turns before she stops outside what must be the guest room and opens the door for you to step inside. 

Maria gets you a fresh pair of clothes then leaves to let you change, informing you that she will be back soon with dinner. You take the alone time to scope out the room, checking if you can find any way out.

You try the door first, though it is locked as you expected. Next you make your way over to the windows, each one locked with bars on the outside. You're trapped, there's no way out. You could scour the room with something to defend yourself, but you passed at least ten men with guns on your way in, so there would be no point. 

Plus, if you did manage to make it out, you’d only be putting your father and your family in danger. There's no way she would just let you escape and let you live.

Instead, you change your clothes and hop onto the large king size bed, pulling back the silk covers and crawling underneath. You don’t have the energy to wait for the maid to come back with food, you're not even sure you’d have an appetite even if she walked through the door with it now. 

So you lie down on the unnaturally comfortable bed, your body melting into the mattress as you close your eyes, letting the exhaustion take over, and hope that when you wake in the morning you’ll realize that this was one big, long nightmare. 

ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ

Part Three

A/n- Hope ye like it so far, let me know what you think. Next part should be out inna week.

[amara-eilish]

so sick of you (chapter 3)

series summary: you and natasha have ended your relationship due to her cheating on you. it's been 5 years now. what happens when you bump into her at a bar on your birthday?

warnings: some swearing, but otherwise none

a/n: omg guys i’m acc so sorry this took 2 whole years to write. we’re gonna pretend that never happened…. you may end up having to wait another 5 years for the next chapter

finally i was on the plane. it felt like it took forever. it was an overnight flight which was good because i could finally get some sleep. wanda like the rich ass she is got us business class so we were pretty comfortable throughout the plane journey.

a couple hours had past and we were still mid air, wanda and i were sat next to eachother and in the chair next to me was a fairly pretty woman. ok i lied she was gorgeous. her hair was brunette with waves, she wore these black rimmed glasses and her lips looked so beautiful. i dont know why i noticed her lips but i guess i just did.

oh well.

i decided to get up and strech my legs for a bit, i felt some cramps in my legs so i needed to walk. wanda was snoring next to me while when harry met sally was playing in the background. i took a photo of her for evidence later. i walk up and head to the bathroom. it was occupied.

i stood there for a good whole 5 minutes till i heard faint moans coming from the bathroom. what the fuck. why are people having sex in an airplane bathroom, thats the most disgusting thing ever. they needed to hurry up bc a girls got to piss.

the beautiful brunette girl walks up to me, or well i guess to the bathroom. i admire her face.

“are people seriously having sex in an airplane bathroom”

i laugh and continue to look at her.

“honestly, like i understand doing it in your seat but the bathroom? seriously? thats the dirtiest place on the whole plane,” i said

“she laughs, are you headed to italy or is it a stop before another flight?” she asks

“yeah i’m going to italy, a friend actually planned this as a birthday trip, what about you?”

“oh, i live in italy, sorry let me rephrase i am italian and i used to live there, just visiting some family” she says

“oh nice, you’ll have to tell me some of the great places to go”

“of course!” she smiles at me

suddenly the bathroom door opens and a lady and a man walk out. both of them fixing their hair snd their clothes.

“after you,” the brunette says

“wait, i never ended up getting your name”

“we still have a whole 2 hours left of this flight, don’t worry you’ll figure it out” she laughs

i lock the door and began to do my buiness. i look at myself and i think i’ve seen death. my hair was a mess, and eye bags darker than ever.

i fixed it as a quick as possible before returning to my seat.

i smile at the girl before she goes in. when i sit at my seat i slap wanda a couple times trying to tell her what happened just now. she just slaps me back harder and starts snoring.

this girl could cause an avalanche with her snoring.

suddenly the girl returns to her seat and we continue to converse as if nothing had stopped us before.

we spoke as if we had known eachother forever. maybe we did?

the flight started to come to an end but our conversation definitely didn’t.

“you got a number or something?”

“yeah here let me type it for you.

i type in my number and write “your plain gf ;)” misspelling plane.

she laughs and points it out. “guess you’re a basic girlfriend then”

i look at her confused, only for her to show me i misspelled plane. i laugh and blush akwardly.

when the plane lands it takes forever for me to wake up wanda. this bitch just wouldn’t wake up.

after what felt like 3 trillion years, i get her up and we start to get ready to leave the plane.

we were in italy…

a/n: omg finally chapter 3 is out

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist making a new one

new year new me 😜

[scarlettsandmaroons]

shiny family | n. romanoff

about me | series masterlist | natasha romanoff masterlist

pairing: professor!natasha romanoff x collegestudent!reader

chapter eight | chapter nine: for some it was paradise

chapter summary: you were tired of the hot and cold. you were tired of her. you were tired. so much so that you wish you just never met her. and frankly, she feels the same.

warnings: smut; minimal spanking, slight manhandling, choking | small mommy kink | dom!natasha romanoff, slightly bratty but sub!reader. angst; fight. unedited, long.

a/n: hi, it's me again. I KNOOOW IT'S BEEN TOO LONG. but oh lord dear god, have i been busy 😭 but i hope you like this one. had a fun time planning it out in my head. also this is kinda long, and ugly because I NEVER PROOFREAD ANYTHING. but i'll definitely get around to proofreading everything once i wrap up the series.

the box was wet from your sweating hands. your hands has been doing that for a bit now, you weren't sure when it started. "happy birthday, babe," you smiled, your palms unconsiously taking turns rubbing down your sides which billy noticed. 

he lazily stood up the couch to put his body against yours, and rest his chin on your head. "baby, you know you didn't have to," he whispers. he set your gift down before he took your wrists and had your palms rub against his shirt instead. "you've given me too much already," he says, his voice honeyed and soft. 

he was right. you've given him a gift for every day that led up to his birthday. you were never a gift giver. but you just got the need to get him something. and the urge became compelling the more you saw the smile on his face and realized how much you'd hate if it faded away. 

"you're the best present i could ever have. you're enough," he kissed your forehead, allowing a gap between you when his hands left yours on his lower back so it can hold your waist instead. "you know that right?" he was looking at you so intently. so lovingly. 

you smiled. the brown in his eyes were a lot brighter than yours. you were always jealous of that. you could clearly see the lines that make up his iris, and the dark outline around it. it was always unlike his mother's who had blue-green eyes. wanda had green eyes. 

natasha had green eyes. 

she's not his biological mother, but she had green eyes. 

you always liked mrs. romanoff's green eyes. 

you always liked mrs. romanoff. 

and there she goes again, natasha's in your thoughts again. 

natasha natasha natasha natasha.

someone cleared their throat. 

and by what instinct, you pulled away, lightly hitting his chest and laughing, "don't be so cheesy," you don't know why you said that. why did you say that? why did you say that?

you were sure he noticed, you could feel his eyes on you for a bit, but you weren't looking. you were too busy looking around as if you'd been caught in what mischievous act hugging your boyfriend was. 

"happy birthday, bill." 

mrs. romanoff.

the moment she caught your eyes, you couldn't look away. no matter how hard you tried. no matter how much you wanted to. she took every bit of your attention. and every bit of you. and you saw her lips move, but your ears couldn't hear anything other than her grunts, and your moans, and her skin slapping against yours. 

"please... i need you."

you weren't sure what she was doing to you. what spell does she have on you? something was swirling in your gut, and pinching at your heart, and burning your skin, and you couldn't comprehend the mix of feelings. the only thing you knew was that she didn't look at you. she didn't look at you. she didn't look at you. she didn't look at you. 

"y/n, babe, are you okay?" 

she didn't look at you. 

"does momma still make you nervous?"

she came in, and then she left as if you weren't there. 

"bubba, you know she's nice. you guys were making progress, weren't you?"

there was not one second that her green eyes took interest in looking at you. 

"she likes you." 

why didn't she look at you. 

"you don't have to be afraid of her."

why won't she look at you?

"okay?" 

you didn't break out of the void that's your thoughts until you felt his hand on your shoulder. and by then he was already standing so close to you again, and looking at you with the same loving gaze as he was before. you opened your mouth, and silence poured out of your lips. 

then mrs. maximoff saved you. 

you heard her call billy from upstairs for plates. 

billy runs his hand down your arm before smiling at you, "i'm sorry. i promise you'll have me all to yourself tonight," he says before running off to his mother. 

you couldn't think. natasha took too much of your brain again. and your body had to fend for itself. your feet took you to the kitchen, and your hands grabbed everything in sight to make yourself busy. natasha was there. your body knew that much, and decided that this is where you should be. your body knows a lot about natasha. natasha is the only thing your body knows. so when your brain shuts down, your body escapes to the only thing it knows. 

you don't what you were doing there. you wanted to get out. you needed to. you needed to breathe. natasha was by the counter. you were in the small round table near the entrance. you couldn't see her. you had your back against her. 

"hey...," you said. 

nothing. 

then you felt a swift breeze behind you. 

she left. 

and you felt your heart crack just a little. 

your heart was full of cracks. your heart has been full of cracks since the first moment you saw her. but nothing would ever compare to the shattered pieces your heart is barely held into right now. 

what had you done?

you fucked her, that's what. a married woman—your boyfriend's mother fucked you and you let her.

but no, you were fine. she made you eggs the day after. she let her fingertips wander off to your skin too long when she passed by. she pulled your hair to one side so she can lay her warm touch on your bare neck while you sit in her office chair and she stands behind you. she... let you look at her. she smiled at you. 

she was fine. 

you were fine. 

"what the hell is wrong with you?"

people started pouring in before lunch. you've never once recognized a face among the stream of people that went straight to the back yard where billy's "wanda-insisted-barbecue-party" took place. but you weren't really paying attention. you were too busy eyeing natasha from the other side of the hallway. 

she came in the kitchen the moment you left. and since then, you've been standing in the dining room, across the hall even when people trampled into the house and you could only see nothing but an occasional glimpse of her smoking a cigarette in a black fitted dress between the gaps of figures that came running in. 

your phone dinged. and it was billy looking for you. he texted you a photo of the plate he prepared for you and an emoji with its tongue out. "i set aside your favorite. come out, where are you?" his text read. 

you could've gone out. after all it was the right thing to do. your boyfriend was looking for you and was right outside. but the people in the hallways were clearing up, and by the time the door closed, you marched, not to your boyfriend, but to who your feet knew you wanted more. 

"what the hell is wrong with you?"

she didn't look at you, "shut your mouth. people can hear you," she says, barely acknowledging your presence. 

a wave of deja vu hits you. 

but not the same as to where you'd cry and blame her for being mean. 

"shut my mouth?" you chuckled, "i thought you'd be the type to like it wide open," you challenged. 

she didn't do anything at first. she was waiting until the very moment the noise outside came muffled when the sliding door to the backyard closed. 

and then she smiled. your chest shrunk. she flicked of her cigarette and you saw it fly to the floor. 

and then she had your neck in a bruising hold. so tight you could barely breath. she dragged you to the counter, her body pushing against yours, and her eyes burning with all the emotion you can no longer read.

she pushed your back to lay on the surface, pinning your wrist above your head. "i told you to shut your mouth didn't i?" 

for a moment, all reason turned to the liquid you feel wet your underwear. but you resisted, you held the hand holding your neck, tapping out when tears started forming your eyes from the lack of air.

and then she let you go completely, stepping far, and facing away.  

you were catching all the air you lost, your body melting to the floor where you kneeled with your back against the island's side, your hand clutching your chest. 

but you didn't step down. never against her again. "you fuck me and pretend i don't exist. how does that work?" you say, meaning to sound much angrier but the air you caught onto didn't allow anything other than a few breathless words. 

a classmate of yours delivered you a letter from mrs. romanoff a week ago. it was a transfer letter from her class to ms. parker's with her signature on it. she was letting you go. 

when you came to class the day after, someone was already sitting on the seat you practically claimed was your own. the one behind that big guy who you'd hide behind of. 

she didn't care that you were there though. she didn't care about you at all. she completely ignored your blatant chasing of her in the hallways, or your greetings, or your "why are you transferring me?" 

she started locking her office door for anyone who might barge into it. she completely ignores your very being in dinner, looking at you as if she can see the wall through your fading existence. she stopped making you breakfast, or being in the same room as you. 

she stopped looking at you. 

"look at me!" you say when your energy regains and you stand up. "what had i ever done to you! all i've ever wanted was for you to see me...," your voice cracks. "i don't know why i seek for your validation so much. why i care for what you think. why i let you define who i am. why do i live for you?" 

"y/n...," she whispers into a warning. 

"no. why? why? why do i care so much for you. why can't i stay away from you? why do i keep on chasing after you, running after you, pulling you, begging you. why can't i live when you don't look at me?" tears started running down your cheeks. you weren't sure why, all you were sure of was that you wanted to stop. you wanted everything to stop. you wanted her to leave your life forever because until she came, you were fine. why did she have to come? why did she have to ruin you? "you know what? i will give up anything to not have met you," you blurt out when you receive zero response from her frozen body. "i wish i never met you, mrs. romanoff."

"how do you think i feel?"

"what?" 

she turned around. "how do you think i felt when i found out that the girl i liked was the same girl my son liked?" 

you didn't know what to say. memories came tumbling down your mind, tangled to knots. thoughts were nothing but a mere "what?". and by then you just though it best to stay silent. 

"you came into my office. you were gutsy, you were brave, and i thought: great, another student i can break. but you were pretty, and you were awkward, and sweet. and the moment i entered my class, you were the first person i saw," the distance between you two was more than you were comfortable of. you wanted her closer. but you didn't move. and she, she was already pulling you closer by her eyes, what more could she do? "i didn't even have to look for you, i just saw you. even at the very back, behind a giant guy, i still saw you. i looked at you, and i haven't looked away ever since." 

you looked away, unable to hold the eye contact. "but it felt like you never saw me..., i wanted you to look at me so badly..." 

she chuckled dryly, almost bitterly, "you were the only one i saw. i couldn't remember a single person in my classes, i don't recognize anyone but you," something pulled you back to her eyes. her face was relaxed. her shoulders were loose, and she was present, with you. just with you. for the first time, she seemed aimless. like she wasn't trying to get anywhere, or do anything. like she didn't have a goal. "i hate that the only thing i can see is the way your lips twitch, or your leg bounce, our your fingers fiddle with your pen. i see when you get lost in what i teach from the way your eyebrows furrow and you mouth a what the fuck before giving up. i see the way you actively try to hide behind your classmate, or the way you try to be as small as possible in my class. i see you and everything you do, and i hate it.

"i hate that i think about you. that i can't escape from you. even on the weekends, i think about that day when you came in with lip gloss on instead of lipstick and i wonder what kept you up at night that you ran late. when i'm going home, i think about you and if you'd caught the bus on your way home, or if you even ride the bus. and when you got drunk, i was in my office the next day, and i was wondering if you took medicine, if you were okay, if you were hungover, if you stayed over or if you went to your house."

your phone rang. and the air shatters. 

you looked at natasha for a second, but she was already looking away. so you brought your phone up to your ear and turned away, "billy! hi...," you greeted with faux enthusiasm. 

you could hear the noise from his end, the people talking, the meats cooking, "where are you? i want to introduce you to people!" he says. you can hear the smile in his voice. 

you gave an emphatic smile, "i'm trying to choose a dress before i shower. i might take a while."

"i'm sure you'd like great even in a shirt and sweatpants, you're perfect!" 

you forced a chuckle. "thank you." 

"tell me if i need to get you, okay?" 

"okay."

"i love you!"

silence.

"i love you too." 

you closed the call. and natasha passed right by you on her way out, but you caught her arm before she made it. "wait," you say, turning her around. "we're not finished."

"i don't know what else you want to hear dear, but you should really get back to your boyfriend," she attempts to leave again, but your grip tightens. 

"so what—so you can ignore me again? so you can pretend i don't exist one day, and tell me you only see me the next?" you're angry now. you were challenging the challenger. but you're tired of letting her have all the cards, of playing a game clearly only she has control over. you're tired of her. "i'm tired of the hot and cold, mrs. romanoff," i'm tired of one day feeling okay to call you natasha, one day feeling okay calling you mommy, then feeling i'm only entitled to a mrs. romanoff the next. 

she looked away, smirking bitterly as if thinking about it. "fine, you want to hear it?" she says, breaking out of your hold. "you want to hear me say it?" 

you were afraid she was angry. but she wasn't. her voice was raising. she wasn't shouting, and her eyes, they weren't staring soullessly into you. her jaw wasn't clenched, and somehow, you feel her racing heart, and her subtly heaving chest. 

"you want to hear that it's wrong? it's wrong, y/n. you were my student. and i tell myself that whenever i think of you, whenever i see you, whenever i feel you, whenever i want you. when my heart skips, when i smile, when i grow excited to walk into my class because i know you'd be there, when i'm practically pulling the sun out of its sleep so it can be the next day, and i can see you again. i tell myself it's wrong. you were my student, and i was married," you could see the way her pupils dilated. she was thinking of wanda. you can always tell when she's thinking of wanda. "but i still wanted you."

it was odd to think that while the world went on outside, the two of you shared a moment as if frozen in time inside the privacy of her home. that in this very moment, it was just you and her, and whatever desire you have for each other. nobody else, nothing. 

it was always like that between you two. it was always you and her. you always forget about anyone else outside your bubble. you forget about wanda, you forget about billy. 

but she doesn't. 

she lives with the guilt while you pretend it doesn't exist. 

"so how do you think i felt when i finally pieced together that the girl i like was not just my student, but the girl my son was in love with? that she's as much a part of this family as i was?"

you were looking up at her, "you genuinely liked me...," you whisper. 

"i tried not to. i tried to hate you. i ignored you, i humiliated you. you were my student. i needed to treat you as such. but i'm sorry, it was personal. i was actively trying to push you away. and then you were billy's bestfriend, and i had to hate you even more. but i couldn't," she was kinder. her voice was softer, just above a whisper. "and my wife was trying to fix our marriage. she was begging me to come home, billy needed me to come home. and i thought when i did, i'd finally escape you. i'd mend my marriage, and i'd stop caring about you. but even here you haunt me." 

"natasha i—" 

"i had to try extra hard, but i still wanted you, i burned for you, i desired you, i needed you. and i had always been terrible at resisting you. i always slipped before. and this time, i just... i couldn't," she paused to take a breath. and then she looked away with her lips that forced into a half smile. "but you love billy...," she whispers, completely avoiding your eyes. "and you should, i know him. he'll treat you right—"

you kissed her. you pulled her in by the neck, and you kissed her. 

her hand quickly rested above your hips, pulling you impossibly close to her while your fingers found shelter between her crimson locks. 

the kiss was hungry, you were sucking in so much of each other, and she had but one goal: to make you hers. 

you were going around the kitchen, kissing, feeling for any surface she can take you on. your back hit a wall, but you flipped her over so her back was against the fridge. your hands were quickly feeling for her, running quickly against her sides, running back up on her abdomen past her breast, and back to her neck. you were trying to feel so much of her, every part of her like there wasn't enough time of the day. 

because there really wasn't. 

she was working on your denim shorts, and the lace that tied your top from the back. she switched with you so your back was against the cold metal fridge. and she pulled back, looking at you, panting, like silently asking for your permission. 

her hair was all over the place, and you took it upon you to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. you smiled. 

you held her hand on your neck, and you let it travel down your body. you lifted your chin to what the fridge behind you allowed when she caught on, and you pulled her hand to the gap between your covered breasts. and when it reached your stomach, you made sure to roll your eyes in the way that you knew might drive her crazy. 

and then you pushed your hands between your two bodies so it reaches your wet core. you didn't let her touch. you felt her fingers extend in an attempt to reach it, but you held it far enough so she can only feel how warm you were without feeling you.

you made sure not to look at her. you closed your eyes, and you let your chest rise, and your mouth open slightly. it was as if you were playing with a sex toy. like you were holding a vibrator and teasing yourself with it.

you know she's in-charge. she would be in a few seconds, but you wanted to play a little. the only card you have against her was this, her imminent desire for you. and you wanted to use it. you wanted to tease her. you wanted to feel how it is to control her the same way she does you. 

so you made it erotic, more than it should normally be—the way your back arched when you finally let her touch, controlling how long her finger stays, or how hard she pressed. 

and then you let her fingers press a little harder on your swollen bud, and you moaned. she flipped you. she flipped you so quickly that you didn't realize your front was against the wall until she carried you by the stomach and bent you over the counter.

she made you spread your legs. and then her fingers danced on your core. she pressed on every part of you until you were grinding on her. "natasha, don't—" you breathed, "don't tease me," you were trying to stay in control, maybe her confession got to your little head. but you were trying to tell her what to do. and she wasn't having it. you had you time, your fun.

you gasped when she cupped your sex with her palm. "i think, you need to learn to be patient, dear," she whispers against your ear.

you felt her weight. and her warmth, and somehow, with the very little reason left in your body, you remembered the people in the backyard. the people who can pass through the hallway, and find a clear glimpse of you and the birthday boy's mother. 

you couldn't move. the weight of her body held you in place. but you forced your hand to find the back of her head. you resisted the moans. you resisted the uncontrollable urge to grind against her hand by forcing yourself still.

"natasha, someone might see," you whispered. "we can't do this here."

suddenly, she was rubbing your pussy with the entirety of her palm. she was rubbing your swollen nub, and your hole, and everything that her hand covered. your mouth dropped wide open to let out the most animalistic moan you had absolutely no control of. and then she pulls your hair back so your ear is right where her lips were. 

"so?" 

the voice of reason left, and it took all your inhibitions with it. 

anybody can walk in or even pass by and they will be met by you being fucked on top of the kitchen island. they're going to see what slut billy's girlfriend is. what slut she is for his mother. but you can't stop grinding on her hand. the mere thought of someone seeing you being fucked out makes you grind even harder until her palm leaves your clothed pussy, and lands hard on your covered ass.

"mommy doesn't like naughty girls. you should know that, right?" she slaps you again. and then again. and then again. "didn't i tell you to be patient?"

she removed your shorts before pushing herself against you, pressing down on your body while pulling your hair as far as your body allowed. you can feel her bulge against your cunt. and you couldn't help but grind against her dress, fully knowing the juices you'll be leaving on it, but frankly you couldn't care less.

"please, i just need you to fuck me.." you cried. "please, nat..."

her eyebrows pinched almost in insincere pity. "now, is that the way to talk to your mommy?"

"mommy, please..."

she made you sit on the counter, never letting go of the grip she had on your hair. you were panting. and huffing. you were like a puppy in heat as you faced her with legs all spread out on top of the counter. you presented her with the cunt that only she gets to touch. the pussy that she's claimed the first time she touched you. 

her eyes softened for a moment when she comes as close as the counter gave her the space to. her other hand falls on your waist, while the other tugs at your hair so your faces are just an inch apart. she looked concerned, she looked like she was about to give into what you want. but then she doesn't.

"you have no idea how much i wanted you," she says, and suddenly her hand's on your neck, while the other finally makes contact with your cunt, pushing your lace underwear to the side. "i thought it would be less after i that night, but no... i just... i couldn't resist. i wanted you so badly, and i keep wanting more of you everyday."

your hips grinded harder against her fingers and then finally when she slammed two into you. and your eyes roll to the back of your head, your hips meeting her thrusts.

"god, yes mommy. please fuck me."

her grip on your neck tightens. "but you're billy's aren't you?" something in your stomach tightens. and you weren't sure what billy's mother wanted you to say. you weren't sure if she knew what she was saying, and what she was making you say. 

but you sensed it. she sounded angry upset. and with the way she's restricting your airways, and the way she's slamming unforgivingly against your pussy, you knew.

she was fucking her son's girlfriend on the kitchen counter on his birthday. yet, you feel it inappropriate to tell his mother that you don't belong to her son, you're boyfriend. 

but it was only true. "no...," you say. 

you need her. her fingers aren't enough. you wanted her to stretch you out. you wanted to feel her against every part of your cunt.

"right...," she says. "who do you belong to, sweetheart?" her grip tightens even more when she adds another finger and your hips jolts up as your eyes roll impossibly further back into your head. 

you were screaming her name. chanting it over and over again until her grip tightens even more. "quickly, sweetheart. i heard the backyard door open," she was bluffing. but you wouldn't know. 

you couldn't breath. your hand takes grasp of her wrist, but it wasn't to stop her hand from gripping your neck. you couldn't care less about air when she just added the last of her four fingers while her thumb circles your clit. 

you were chasing your high. you wanted this so badly. the way she was reaching spots, rubbing against parts you didn't even know existed. you were losing your mind. you couldn't breath, you couldn't think. your mind was blank, and it might be that you're about to pass out, that your close to seeing stars, but you knew that if you were on your deathbed, this might just be the memory you'd be wishing to relive. 

"who do you belong to?"

you grinded even harder, your hips were writhing against the fingers that only increased in pace. you were hazy. you were a moaning mess. and right at the very last second when you can feel yourself slipping away in pure ecstasy and an incredibly limited amount of air, you were able to mutter, "you."

and then she lets you go right at the very second you exploded in her fingers. her hand was no longer on your neck, it was pressing on your chest just below your collarbone as she lets you ride out your high. your moans. her name. your cries. it was all music to her ears.

your consciousness came back, all along with your reason, and reality itself. you opened your eyes, panting. 

and quickly, you dressed yourself, and she fixed herself when you did hear the backyard door open this time, and footsteps came approaching. 

she pulled you in by the hand one last time to land a kiss on your forehead before she stepped away, and right on time, wanda came in. 

"oh god, there you two are! we have been waiting for you to come out!" wanda says, rushing towards natasha but laying a careful touch on you when she passed by, "billy's looking for you dear," she tells you before she goes to the fridge where natasha waits for her. "oh lord, look at you! what ever happened to your hair?" while mrs. maximoff was fussing over her wife against the fridge, natasha was looking at you with a smug look on her face, like you two shared an inside joke no one in the world would ever know about. "quickly, quickly. we have to give a toast for the twins."

you left the two alone, going out to the backyard first where billy quickly welcomed you to his arms. you thought they deserved the privacy, you thought it was respectful to do so. 

billy had his arm around your waist while he introduced you to absolutely everyone. the names got lost in your mind, but the few people you took note of were: tony stark, clint barton, bruce banner, and steve rogers. 

half of them were professors. the other, you knew to be very famous. but billy left you with them when he was called onto by someone asking for help with the grill, and they were surprisingly, really fun.

you've learned they were very close to natasha. and now, you assumed that maybe they were this little group. from the way the four of them stuck together the entire time, you only assumed they were more here for natasha than wanda, or the party. 

"so this is the special girl, huh?" clint opens with a one-arm hug. 

"if you get tired of romanoff's bs, call me. i'll get you on a stark workshop, and i'll give you a job,"tony interjects, giving you a card. "you don't need romanoff." 

"hell, he'll give you a house," clint laughs. 

"or a mansion," stark adds. "whatever floats your boat." 

 "ask him to pay for you college fund. that's how i guaranteed free college for my three kids," clint whispers. 

"it's nice to meet you, y/n l/n," steve cuts in between both tony and clint, and offered you his hand."i'm steve rogers, history and geography. nat has told us so much about you."

"i'm uh—bruce banner. chemistry," the other one says. 

you knew who they were. everyone knew who they were. but you still shook their hands like you didn't. 

soon, more than a few minutes of the four's overlapping attempts in making conversation with you, you heard a soft call for a toast. 

before you could fully let sink in the image of vision and tommy, and wanda at the center with a glass raised and a butter knife gently hitting it, and natasha romanoff, billy snatched you right from the group and pulled you right to where they stood—the pieces of a broken family that still stands so tall and perfect. 

you wanted to appreciate them a bit, while you and billy walk towards them. these people are a part of a big messy tree which you can guess has a lot of history. they were broken, and while the pieces meet, nothing would mend them back together. 

but that's the beauty of it. you could see how perfectly they all fit together, even natasha. despite the gaps in between, this works. this dynamic works. they stay the family everyone wants to have despite the cracks. they stay perfect, and shiny. 

you wanted to take a good look at them, before you break it. before you break it more. before you officially become a piece that would ruin the dynamic, the family, the specificity of everything that makes this work. 

billy gives you a peck on the forehead, before letting you off to natasha who stands a few steps behind wanda who now had the twins on either side. 

you didn't say anything, you just stood right next to her as if she just hadn't make you see stars 30 minutes ago. 

and then suddenly you felt an arm snake behind you and pull you closer to her by the waist before it rested on the lower part of your back. she didn't say anything, she just took a sip from her glass as if her finger wasn't tracing patterns while wresting on your back. 

"natasha," you whispered, looking at the grass beneath you. "i like you too."

she didn't respond for a while. but you feel her push her hand into the back pocket of your denim shorts. 

"then how about we sneak out and go on a little date?"

you knew that the second she stepped out, and the moment you found a chance to follow her, that was the beginning of a secret that would ruin everything that you have. 

and frankly, that did not stop you from getting on her motorcycle anyway. 

[colorspoem]

⟣ᩨ ☨˚ꔛ彡🎩 𝕟็𝗲ωู ρ𝗼ᩚ᥍̼𝘁 ◠🪪🐺𐩘𐬿🍊🧣📝￣▓⃞🏈𓆇｡䕽ଽ ◊◞ 𓇼 ᥬ✼៚ᝪ 𝕷𝕚𝐤ᩚ𝗲 * 𝖗̆𝐞𝗯𝗹𝗼̼ᩧ❡ (ㆁᴗㆁ✿) ↜ ༒ ©️𝕣ᦕᩨ𝕕𝐭𝗌 ෆ𝗲ᩖ // ❔🥍🍝🩴

[holiday-house-of-m]

Ooo this is good

I was a little disappointed it wasn't a bit longer to show more of Natasha and R's friendship that was until I kept reading and saw that there are two more parts

This is going to be very interesting

Red Room Sacrifice

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: You grew up and trained with Natasha in the Red Room. Your close relationship with her is put to the test during your final exam.

Warnings: angst, violence/blood

Words: 2273

“I think I would like to be a superhero.”

Natasha peeks open one of her eyes at the sound of your voice, waking up from her attempt at some rest. She squints at the bed above hers, trying to discern whether or not you were talking to her.

Seconds later, your head appears upside down over the edge of your bed to look at her when you didn’t hear a response. “Natasha?”

She turns to look at you confusedly. “What?”

You smirked at her from your position. “Come on, Natasha. We would be the perfect team. Traveling around the world, helping people in need.” Your eyes brightened at the idea. “Ooh, like that Captain America guy.”

Natasha rolls her eyes before closing them again when she hears you talk about your usual fantasies for the two of you. “Go to sleep, Y/n. You’re going to get punished again.”

You frown at her words, but eventually, you do move back to your original position on your bed. She’s not wrong. For some reason, Madame B, the supervisor and trainer of the Red Room program, hated you. You’re positive she would have gotten rid of you a long time ago if only you didn’t match Natasha in strength and skills.

For a few minutes, silence enveloped the room as you got lost in thought.

“I think you would be a great superhero, Natasha.” 

Natasha’s eyes open again at your words. She stares at your bed, waiting for you to elaborate further, but all she hears is the soft, even sounds of your breathing, indicating that you had fallen asleep. 

She huffed in disbelief. Of course, you would fall asleep after saying something so ridiculous. You were both trained to be killers. There was nothing left in the world for either of you.

——

Your hands were restricted. That was the first thing you realized as you slowly awoke. Your body also felt sluggish, and your head was pounding, which leads to one possible conclusion. 

You’ve been drugged.

Slowly regaining your senses, you open your eyes to examine your surroundings. You were in the center of an unfamiliar room. It was mostly empty, except for some tables scattered around. The large window on one side of the room gives you an indication of what this was.

Another test.   

Annoyed, you examine yourself to find your hands and body bound tightly to a chair. Your legs were not tied though, so that was an upside to the situation. 

You test the restraints. They didn’t budge at all which means you would need to find another way to escape.

Sighing, you lean your head back to contemplate your next course of actions. Your head bumps against something.

“Ow, so you finally woke up.”

Startled, you turn your head over your shoulder to see the familiar red hair. Natasha was also in the same position as you, though her body seems to be more alert. Looking between the two of you, you see that your chairs have also been tied together back to back.

You craned your neck, trying to see her face. “How long have you been awake?”

Natasha was about to answer you when the crackle of a speaker sounded inside the room. Madame B’s voice rings out.

 “Welcome to your next test girls. Your task for today…”

A buzzer sounds as dozens of soldiers march into the room, surrounding the two of you.  

“Eliminate everyone.” The doors slammed shut at her words.

Chaos erupted immediately as the soldiers lunged towards the two of you. One soldier reached you first, knife raised in attack. 

You twist your body to dodge the incoming swing. The knife narrowly misses you and embeds itself into the back of your chair. In a fluid motion, you bring your leg up and knock him to the ground with a powerful kick.

Turning your head over your shoulder, you call out to get her attention.

“Natasha!”

Natasha kicks away an incoming soldier before glancing over her shoulder at the knife lodged on top of your chair. She quickly looks around and spots a nearby table. Still bound, she stands, pulling you up with her, before running towards the table, slamming the sides of your chairs against the edge. 

The impact knocks the knife out from your chair, and it slides across the table. Soon, more soldiers close in around the two of you. 

You look over at Natasha and find her looking back at you too. Understanding passes between the two of you as you both simultaneously kick at the soldiers, using the momentum to propel yourselves on top of the table. 

Another swift kick from you causes the two of you to slide across the table, allowing Natasha’s bound hand to reach and grab the knife. By the time you land on the ground on the other side, she has already freed herself from her restraints. 

Within seconds, you are also released. Standing up, you rub your wrists in relief. Natasha tosses you the knife which you catch reflexively. 

You twirl the blade in your hand, testing the balance, before gripping the handle close to your body in a defensive position, ready for combat. 

The two of you locked eyes once more, quickly checking on each other before jumping back into the fight. Separately, you and Natasha were already formidable opponents, but working together as a team made the both of you essentially impossible to stop. 

You and Natasha were in perfect sync, defeating soldiers left and right, barely giving them any time to react. Within minutes, all of the soldiers were defeated, lying motionless on the ground around the room. 

You stroll casually over next to Natasha, stretching your arms above your head and smirking at her.  

“I got twelve.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief at your words. She was about to respond when a movement behind you caught her attention. She quickly moves you to the side before knocking the hidden soldier away. His body crashes into a table, breaking it into pieces.

Natasha turns back to you, dusting herself off before giving you a smirk. “Thirteen.”

Tilting your head in acknowledgment, you raised your hands, admitting your loss. You give her a fond smile as you both stare at each other.

Madame B’s voice fills the room again. 

“I said to eliminate everyone.”

Your smile drops as you realize what she means. Natasha also looks shocked at her words.

This wasn’t some ordinary test. You’ve heard the whispers of girls being chosen to fight against each other to the death.

Scoffing in disbelief, you realized this was the final exam. The Widow program doesn’t tolerate weakness, so either one of you kills the other, or both of you will die.

Looking around, you find another knife on the ground. Picking it up, you toss it at Natasha. She catches it easily before giving you an incredulous look.

“What are you doing?”

Determined, you twirl and toss the knife in your hand before gripping it into a defensive position again, facing her. 

“She said to fight.” You slowly circle around her, looking for an opening. 

Natasha shakes her head resolutely. “I’m not going to kill–.” 

You swing at her with your knife, interrupting her as she dodges your attack. You don’t let up, pursuing after her with constant strikes.

Not surprisingly, Natasha dodges or parries each of your attacks, constantly graceful and quick on her feet, but she doesn't attack you back. 

Irritated at her actions, you force her towards a side of the room. Her back hits the wall with a thud as you press your arm against her neck. 

Natasha’s hands grip each of your wrist tightly, restricting your movements despite being pressed against the wall.

Desperately, you look into her eyes and cry out in anger.

“Fight me!”

Natasha winces at your cry, looking away from your pleading eyes. Throughout the fight, she has been conflicted on what she should do.

Her instincts and training tells her to follow orders no matter what, but every time she looks at you, her heart stops her. 

The pressure on her neck increases, as you push yourself closer. She turns back to look at you. Your eyes were frantic as you begged her, trying to make her understand.

“Fight, Natasha!” 

Gritting her teeth, Natasha reluctantly kicks you away, releasing herself. You catch your balance quickly in time to block her next incoming attacks. 

Her actions were precise and powerful, pressuring you to be on the defensive. She swings her knife towards you. 

Using your own knife, you block her attack. The blades slide against each other as you dodge to the side, redirecting her momentum.

Natasha barely stumbles from your action, instead she twists her body around to deliver a kick to your side, knocking you to the ground.

Coughing, you push yourself up, trying to catch your breath. Blood drips from your mouth, and you know you can’t last much longer. 

Standing up, you see Natasha watching you with pain and concern in her eyes. You give her a reassuring smirk, getting back into position. Your hand taunts her to come at you.

Grimacing, Natasha lunged forward again with a powerful thrust. Like before, you block her attack with your own knife.

In the next second, your eyes lock with hers, and you give her a small, sad smile. You subtly redirect her attack again. This time making it appear as if she evaded your block. 

Natasha's eyes widened in shock and realization. Time slowed as the blade pierced your stomach. The sound of metal clanging against the floor echoed the room as you dropped your own knife. 

Natasha steps away in panic. Eyes frozen, she stares at her hand that held the weapon now impaled in you. All she can focus on is the blood covering her hand. Your blood.

Holding your wound, you slowly take a couple steps forward towards her until your head slumps against her shoulder. Instinctively, Natasha supports you against her body, wrapping her arms around you. 

You raise your hand to press against her chest as your voice comes out in a whisper next to her ear. 

“Survive, Natasha.” You take a stuttered breath through the pain, already feeling your body weakening from the loss of blood. “You have a good heart. Don’t let them take that away.”

A single clap echoes from behind Natasha, followed by multiple footsteps. She feels herself pulled away from you. Without her support, your body slumps to the ground, too weak to move anymore.  

“Well done, Natasha. You will be a wonderful Widow.” Madame B praises her, eyes gleaming with pride at her best student.

Natasha doesn’t register her words. Her eyes only focus on your still body on the floor. 

Madame B. glances disdainfully at you, motionless on the ground. She snaps at two guards. “Dispose of her. She’s useless now.” 

At her command, they move to take you away. As their hands grab your arms to carry you, Natasha snaps out of her state of shock as she tries to reach for you. 

“Wait, no, don’t touch her—“ Natasha cries out in pain when she is tased by one of the guards holding her back. 

Ignoring her cries, Madame B. walks out of the room. “Come Natasha, we must prepare for your graduation ceremony.” 

The guards holding her follow right after, practically dragging Natasha as she thrashes around in their hold. She turns her head to look back at you in the room. Your body was carried by a guard towards the opposite direction. Her heart clenches when she sees your closed eyes and arm hanging limp beside you. She hangs her head in despair.

You were a fool. She will only ever be a killer. Only now, there was truly nothing left in the world for her.

——

“You are positive?”

The soldier nodded at Dreykov who was standing in front of the examination window, watching as doctors and scientists worked to save his daughter’s life. 

“Yes, sir. The attack was by Natasha Romanoff. She disappeared from our radar a week ago but then suddenly reappeared right before the explosion. It seems she has somehow broken her indoctrination and defected, working together with Shield.”

Dreykov clicked his tongue in disappointment at losing one of his best Widows. He goes to his desk and pulls up Natasha’s file. Skimming her information, an event during her training days catches his attention. 

“What’s the status of this girl?” 

His assistant looks at who he was referring to before pulling up your information from the Experiment and Research department.

“Y/n L/n. Combat, weapons, and tactical skills were almost at the same level as Romanoff. Eliminated from the Widow program by a fatal injury from Romanoff, which led to the discovery of super enhanced healing not seen in the other Widows. She was then transferred to the research team for further study on her ability.” 

The assistant shows a video of you currently locked in a cell, punching angrily at the wall. 

“Notes from the team indicate that her skills and abilities are still giving them difficulty when handling the subject. Despite multiple methods, her defiant and rebellious behavior makes it impossible for them to control her.” 

Dreykov examines your image on his screen curiously before looking over at the room with his daughter, an idea forming in his mind.

“Transfer her back to the Widow program…,” Dreykov commanded. On another screen, he pulls up Melina Vostokoff’s newly developed research on brainwashing mechanisms. 

“...And add her as the second test subject to our new form of indoctrination.”

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

Part 2 | Part 3

[wandaslovey]

ᴍʀꜱ. ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴏꜰꜰ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏᴡ

➺ dom!wandanat x sub!fem!reader

word count ~ 7k

authors note: i’m so excited to share this with you guys - this was so much fun to write! i’m planning on writing the first few parts as chapters where one will pick up right after the other and then once i get to a certain point i’ll do random time skips within the same au. oh also! i’m starting a tag list, so comment below if you’d like to be included on the next chapter! enjoy loves! 💕 as usual, this is not proofread.

content warning(s): legal age gap (w=30, n=33, r=23), natasha and wanda being two hot intimidating lawyers (except natasha kinda steals this show in this part, especially in the beginning. don’t worry though, wanda will have her time to shine!), conversation about kinkery and reader knows very little

if you’d like to read the drabble that inspired this series, click here

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you stand in front of the mirror, adjusting your white button-up blouse for the 10th time. you huff, frustrated that your wardrobe just wouldn’t cooperate with you this morning. as you look yourself over in the mirror—the rest of your outfit consisting of a mid-thigh black pencil skirt, some black nylons and black combat boots—you couldn’t help but wonder if your attire was okay for the interview.

the interview…you can’t believe you landed an interview at thee M.R. law firm. you knew how unqualified you were for the position, so you felt extra pressure to compensate somehow with your appearance.

you turn to the side in the mirror, first left and then right, scrutinizing yourself at every angle. you readjust the pieces of hair framing your face that you pulled out of your bun, before deciding you’d done all you could to look your best.

you glance at the clock on your nightstand in the reflection of the mirror, seeing it was time to go. you grab your knock-off brand purse and slip out of your apartment. when you walk down the stairs and open the door to the outside, the noise from the city fills your ears. the sounds of cars, horns, sirens, music and people all blended together, creating a sort of hum all new-yorkers were familiar with. you step out onto the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding some tourists that were taking a picture in front of the trendy restaurant you lived by. you hail a cab, quickly sliding into the backseat and telling the driver your destination.

now that you were settled in your seat with only the taxi drivers quiet music to distract you, the nerves you’d been attempting to snub out suddenly hit you full force. there was no way you could do this. you were sure you were just wasting your own time and the poor person who had to interview you. you knew your 6 months working as a receptionist at a dentist office nowhere near qualified you to manage things at M.R. law. you mentally curse yourself, thinking you must’ve been half asleep and entirely too desperate when you sent in your application at this place. you needed a job though—urgently. with your roommate moving back home, and no one else taking her place, you were stuck with paying the rent on your own. on top of that, you were still paying back loans for school. you knew you should cut your losses, leave new york and transfer to a much more affordable school, but you really wanted to stay as much as you could help it.

every stoplight you hit along the 20 minute drive only makes you more nervous. the fluttery feeling in your stomach turns into full blown pterodactyls by the time the driver has pulled up to the very tall M.R. building. you pass some folded up cash to the driver, mumbling out a quiet ‘thank you,’ and then step out of the car. you stare up at the intimidating building, the lettering of “maximoff-romanoff law” taunting you—daring you to step inside. you let out a stubborn exhale, squaring your shoulders and walking in with a confidence as fake as grape flavored candy.

you stride over to the front desk, noticing that the only employees in sight are all women.

“hi, i’m here for an 11 o’clock interview,” you tell one of the women behind the desk. she offers you a polite smile, giving you instructions to head into the elevator and up to the 8th floor. you nod your head, thanking her and make your way to your doomsday interview.

as the elevator doors shut behind you, you find yourself all alone in the small space. there was no background music to distract you now. you stare at the floor, noticing a slight glint to the black tiles you were standing on. you listen to the beeps counting up each floor, your eyes dragging up the stainless steel panel when the number reads 8 and the final beep sounds. the doors open and you’re immediately greeted with the sight of more women pacing around the place. some seemed to be in a rush while others were leisurely walking across the floor while chatting with a co-worker. you walk over to the front desk again, repeating what you had told the other kind lady downstairs. she gestures for you to take a seat on the couch in the waiting area, letting you know someone will grab you in a few minutes.

you take a seat on the black leather couch, figuring this piece of furniture probably costed more than the rent for your apartment. you cross your legs, interlocking your fingers together at your knee. you glance around the office, taking in the decor. it was very tasteful, some touches of greenery that went nicely with the black and dark woodsy vibe this floor was going for. you try your best to ignore the bile rising in your throat and the pterodactyls still swarming in your stomach. it was a good thing you didn’t eat breakfast this morning.

as two minutes turns into ten, and then fifteen, you can’t help but feel the urge to just get up and leave. you felt so out of place here; you couldn’t imagine working at this place with all these women who were so obviously out of your league.

just as you were settling on the idea of ditching this interview, you hear clacking footsteps making their way over to you. you didn’t dare look up yet, pretending to be very interested in the tiny hole in your pantyhose just above your knee.

“miss (y/l/n)?” the most heavenly, sultry voice calls out to you. your eyes slowly trail along the tile, up the woman’s legs covered in black slacks, her blouse and matching black suit jacket, and then finally her face. it was her.

thee mrs. romanoff.

mrs. romanoff was the person who was going to interview you? you couldn’t believe your eyes, or the situation. you clear your throat, realizing you had yet to acknowledge her calling out to you.

“yeah, that’s me,” you reply, standing on slightly wobbly legs. you watch as mrs. romanoff’s eyes slowly take in your appearance, her eyes lingering on your frame. you feel a little scrutinized, wondering if you really did mess up with what you were wearing.

“follow me.” she turns and leads the way. you stumble a bit as you follow behind her, not expecting her to have as long of a stride as she does.

“you’ll have to forgive me for the wait—we had a couple meetings run over this morning,” she talks to you over her shoulder, slowing her walk a little when she notices you’re not directly behind her like she thought.

“oh, no worries. i didn’t mind the wait.” that was technically a lie, but it wasn’t the wait that bothered you as much as the fact that you were left alone with your thoughts a little too long.

she rounds a corner at the end of the hall, pausing and gesturing for you to enter in one of the two doors that were side by side on the wall to the right. you walk through the doorframe, stepping into what you assumed was her personal office.

“have a seat, miss (y/l/n),” she says in a low voice, walking from behind you and around her desk to sit in her chair. you sit in one of the two chairs across from her, your heart thudding violently in your chest from being in such close proximity to her.

you adjust your seating position three times before finally settling in place, forcing yourself to sit still. mrs. romanoff humors you, remaining silent and patient through your nervous fidgeting.

“so, i have to say i was a little surprised to see your application come through to my desk,” she starts and you immediately feel your cheeks grow hot, the feeling of being in a place you don’t belong filling your whole body with dread.

she pauses, and you realize she was waiting for you to respond. right. this was supposed to be where you attempt to prove yourself adequate to work in this position.

“yes, um… well, admittedly i myself did think it was a stretch to apply here, but then i figured, i’m a fast learner, i’m very thorough in all i do and i enjoy learning new things. i thought i’d try my hand at something i haven’t done before.” you rattle off an answer that while it was true, it was also something you rehearsed 20 times in the mirror while getting ready before you got here. you were almost positive the slight robotic edge in your voice was noticeable.

mrs. romanoff hums in acknowledgment, nodding slightly at your rehearsed answer. “how well can you handle multi-tasking in a fast paced environment?” her lack of acknowledging your first answer puts a damper on your already fake confidence. you shift in your seat again, finding it harder to maintain eye contact with the sea of green that was her eyes.

“i would say i fare pretty well. i’m usually very good at managing stressful situations.” that was a complete lie—but most people bullshit their way through interviews, don’t they?

“usually?” she echoes, tilting her head to the side. she purses her lips, half attempting to hide a small smirk. she easily picked up on all your nervous antics the moment she saw you. you averting her gaze, walking unsteadily, fidgeting in your seat and the cute rose-y blush currently coloring your cheeks.

you clear your throat, interlocking your hands together in your lap. you notice they’ve already started to feel damp with sweat. “yeah, yeah most of the time i’d say so.”

“well, miss…” she glances down at what appeared to be your application and resume sitting in front of her on the desk. “(y/n)..you don’t sound very sure of yourself.” she sits upright in her chair, crossing her arms and leaning over the desk. your heart beats impossibly faster, the feeling of intimidation settling deep into your bones.

“no, i mean, i am sure—totally 100%.” you try to laugh, but it comes out sounding as nervous as you feel.

“okay, if that’s how you’d like to proceed…” she trails off, looking down at the papers in front of her again. you didn’t know what she meant, but your eyes fall desperately to the same papers she was looking at, as if they could provide some sort of answer to you. “what are your greatest strengths and weaknesses?”

you internally breath a sigh of relief. this was another answer you’d rehearsed in the mirror, it just needed to sound less robotic this time. “i’d say my greatest strengths are, i’m very punctual—i’m always on time if not early—um, i do all things thoroughly, as i mentioned before…i’m very reliable—hardly sick or need time off for family things, and i enjoy a good challenge. my greatest weakness is that i like to be very organized and sometimes i can spend a little too much time completing a certain project before moving onto the next.” you exhale after you finish talking, your eyes flicking across her face to try and get a sense of how she’s taking in your answer.

as you speak, you can’t help but notice that she was watching you so meticulously. it seemed that she was taking in not only your words, but your facial expressions, hand gestures and body language.

she looks at you for a moment as if she’s thinking hard on something. without taking her eyes off of you, she presses a button on her desk, the small ding from an intercom sounding. “joan, please track down mrs. maximoff and have her come into my office right away.”

your heartbeat now thrums loudly in your ears, your breath picking up its pace. you were not only going to be in the presence of mrs. romanoff but now mrs. maximoff too? never in your life had you seen such a powerful couple—and that was only in photos and billboards you’d seen around the city!

“is everything okay?” you ask nervously, feeling the permanent blush on your cheeks travel to the tips of your ears.

“everything’s fine, (y/n),” she gives you a smile but it was anything but reassuring. in fact, there was something about the expression that felt more intimidating with how devastatingly beautiful she was.

she grabs a pen and starts writing something on the paper. whatever it was was brief, but you couldn’t see clearly from your seat.

a quiet knock comes from the door and your posture becomes rigid as you hear who you assume to be mrs. maximoff entering the room.

“you called for me?” mrs. maximoff asks as she walks the length from the door to mrs. romanoff’s side. she walks around your chair and stands next to her wife, placing her palm flat against the desktop and leaning some of her weight on it.

“yes, i wanted you to meet our new interviewee,” she smiles with her lips and gestures to you in your seat. you look between the two beautiful, impeccably dressed women, feeling extremely small and insignificant. mrs. maximoff turns to look at you for the first time, a warm smile gracing her features.

“hi,” she offers simply, extending her hand to shake yours. you sit forward, reaching your arm out to shake her hand across the desk. her hand was incredibly soft and a little cold to the touch, but you wouldn’t expect anything less since the office was kept at such a cool temperature.

“mrs. maximoff is going to sit in on the rest of our interview. is that okay with you?” mrs. romanoff asks, her eyes daring you to object.

you quickly shake your head from side to side, shifting once again in your chair. “no, no that’s perfectly fine,” you reply easily, though you were feeling anything but fine. you notice mrs. maximoff giving her wife a curious glance but she doesn’t otherwise question it.

“let’s move over to the couches so we’re a little more comfortable,” mrs. romanoff stands up and heads over to the long olive green velvet sofa. you follow suit, except you take a seat in the smaller sofa, designed for only one person. mrs. maximoff sits closest to you on the long couch, brushing some of her pretty brown hair behind her shoulder. you watch as she glances back at her wife, mrs. romanoff giving her a certain look that you weren’t sure what it meant.

“so, (y/n), tells us what your career goals are,” mrs. romanoff proceeds with the interview as if the interruption never happened. you find yourself even more nervous to respond now that there were two, hot, older women sitting before you.

“umm…for now i really just need something steady that will simultaneously be giving me good work and life experience.. long term though, i’d like to become a therapist once i finish my masters program.” you bite your tongue once you finish your sentence, realizing this is not the sort of job where you tell your interviewers you’d like to pursue something that has nothing to do with their company.

“what appeals to you about becoming a therapist?” mrs. maximoff chimes in, tilting her head to the side curiously, just like mrs. romanoff had done earlier in the interview.

you lean back in your chair, a little surprised at her interest in your reply. “well, it’s a cliche answer, but i’m very passionate about helping people. it’s impossible to go through this life without getting seriously hurt and dealing with trauma. the vast majority of us have no idea how to cope or process through our experiences, so just knowing what i know, i’d like to try and be of some help for those who need it.”

the two lawyers look at you thoughtfully, mrs. maximoff nodding her head as you speak.

“that’s a very admirable passion. are you currently enrolled in a masters program?” she asks, crossing one of her legs over the other as she gets more comfortable in her seat.

“i am,” you reply with a shy smile. you never wanted to come across as bragging about your education, so you always sought to speak about it in the most humble way.

“you like school?” mrs. romanoff chimes in, leaning forward as she speaks.

your smile turns a bit rueful as you reply. “yes..i do. i know so many young people my age loathe school and all the hard work that needs to be put in, but…i love everything about it. i love taking notes, making flashcards, studying, taking tests, everything about it, i just love. i know it sounds a little crazy.” you laugh once, suddenly feeling more relaxed as you speak about something so genuinely. you feel a little more surprise again as you hear mrs. romanoff chuckle with you, nodding her head towards her brunette wife.

“sounds like somebody i know. this one here was a school addict. i had to practically pry textbooks out her hands just so we could do anything other than study,” she chuckles again, mrs. maximoff joining in with her.

“i won’t apologize for being so pointed about my studies. we both got straight A’s, didn’t we?” she jokes light-heartedly and you find yourself smiling warmly at their light banter.

mrs. maximoff turns back to face you, a smile still touching her lips. “what else do you do aside from school?” her question makes your face fall slightly as you now had to admit you were technically unemployed. you knew that didn’t look good for potential employers.

“right now, not a whole lot. just keeping busy with my studies,” you respond vaguely to which they both hum in response.

the pair of them continue asking you questions, except they become progressively more personal until they don’t attain to work or working at this position at all.

“do you like living alone? or do you prefer living with others?” was one of the questions mrs. romanoff asks you after you had explained you were currently without a roommate.

even though it was strange, you find that the more you talk about yourself, the more relaxed you feel. mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff both noticed it too. they could see more of your personality showing through as the nerves slowly but surely dissipated.

it had been near 40 minutes by the time mrs. romanoff checked her watch and noticed the time. she looked at her wife, mrs. maximoff seeming to sense her eyes on her as she automatically looked to the side. they shared a look, one of them nodding to the other before turning back to face you.

“well, we’ve kept you here much longer than was intended—i apologize for that.” mrs. romanoff says as she stands, mrs. maximoff following suit. you stand also, smoothing your skirt back over your legs. as you stand so closely to them now, you notice how they were both taller than you by a few inches, making you feel small again like you had earlier.

“it’s no big deal. i’m in no rush,” you smile shyly as you look up at the two of them. you extend your arm out, shaking both of their hands before getting ready to leave. they both give your hand a gentle squeeze and when mrs. romanoff shakes your hand, she grasps on longer than her wife, holding your gaze with a certain intensity.

“we’ll be in touch, miss (y/n),” she says smoothly, calling you out by your first name, and for some reason the combination between her voice and her eye contact made your knees feel weak.

you swallow thickly, nodding your head and thanking them both for the interview before turning away. mrs. maximoff leads you to the door to exit and walks you all the way out to the elevators. you pace the short distance in somewhat comfortable silence. when you turn to face her to say your final goodbye, your surprised to see mrs. romanoff behind her. she was following so quietly that you didn’t notice her presence.

“bye! thank you again,” you smile, stepping into the elevator once the doors open. the two women stand side by side of each other, giving you a near identical smile which portrayed some sort of knowing behind it, almost like they were expecting something.

“it was a pleasure meeting you miss (y/l/n),” mrs. maximoff calls out to you as the elevator doors slide closed.

you exhale a breath you didn’t now you were holding, slumping back against the elevator walls.

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

that evening, you cook up a box of mac n cheese, too lazy to try and find the ingredients to make anything else. not to mention, your mind was still a little bit jumbled after your interview with thee lesbian power couple.

mrs. romanoff’s words kept echoing in your head.

”we’ll be in touch” she’d said. but didn’t your interview totally blow? especially at the end. it wasn’t so much an interview but rather more like a conversation where people try to get to know each other better. maybe they were looking for a personality hire? you really doubted that though.

you eat your mac n cheese while staring blankly at the wall, thinking over the whole exchange with mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff. as you mindlessly feed yourself spoonfuls of your dinner, you realize you didn’t even know their first names. you remembered you had once seen them on a billboard somewhere but didn’t remember exactly what they were. mrs. romanoff’s first name was natalie or something similar? you were at a loss with mrs. maximoff. you decide to google them to put your curiosities to rest.

pulling out your phone, you google their names and the law firm. after doing just a little bit of digging, you see their full names: natasha romanoff and wanda maximoff. ah, so you were close with mrs. romanoff’s name. you wonder if they only go by their last names at the office. it definitely seemed like their vibe to have things be so professional.

as you go throughout the rest of your evening, showering and getting ready for bed, you continue thinking about them. the longer your mind lingers on them, the less “professionally” you think about them. you couldn’t help but notice how utterly beautiful they both were. they both carried themselves with a confidence that anyone would find intimidating. there was something so forceful about their presences, but not necessarily in a bad way. it seemed like natasha—mrs.romanoff—was a little more rough around the edges, but you could see she easily held a soft spot for her wife and life partner. mrs. maximoff gave off a much more approachable vibe, but she was still intimidating in her own way.

as your mind continues wandering, you find yourself becoming more tired before you finally drift off to sleep, your brain fatigued from all your analytical thinking.

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

the first thing you notice when you wake up is the light shining through your thin curtains. you blink a few times, slowly adjusting to the light. you blindly reach over to your nightstand, unplugging your phone from the charger. as you unlock your phone, you notice a missed call from an unknown number nearly two hours ago. you shoot up into a sitting position in your bed, suddenly feeling much more awake. it was just passed 10 am. was the unknown number a call back about your interview?

your fingers furiously swipe on your phone, quickly googling the number for M.R. law. you breath a sigh of relief when you cross reference the digits in your phone and the number online, realizing it was just a random unknown caller. you let your body fall back limply on the bed, your leg dangling off the side as you clutch your phone to your chest. that would’ve been humiliating if they called offering you the job and you didn’t pick up the phone.

as you go about your morning leisurely—not having any classes this day—you try to push the two hot lawyers out of your mind. there was no point in dwelling on them if you’d never hear from them again.

you leave your face bare of makeup, not intending on leaving the apartment and you opt for wearing comfy clothes—or “frumpy” clothes as you called them—instead of something nice.

you head into the kitchen, pouring yourself a bowl of frosted flakes cereal. you let it sit there for a few minutes to soak up the milk, as soggy cereal was your favorite. you’d argue with anyone who claimed crunchy cereal was best. as you wait, you power up your laptop, intent on working on some homework.

you’re munching on your cereal, blue-light filtered glasses adorning your nose as you work on your computer screen. you were mid-bite when you hear your phone buzzing on the counter next to you. you glance down at your phone and frown slightly when you notice it looks to be the same unknown number from earlier.

you continue chewing your bite, raising the phone to your ear as you accept the call.

“hello?” you ask, your voice mumbled a bit as you still had some food in your mouth.

“good morning, miss (y/n),” you hear a warm, velvety voice greet you. after almost an hour interview with her yesterday, you’d recognize this distinct voice anywhere.

“mrs. romanoff?” you just about choke on your food as you swallow, your body tensing slightly as you feel much more alert.

“that would be correct.” you hear her chuckle softly into the phone, your tone laced with obvious surprise she must have found endearing.

“i’m so sorry! i think i missed your call earlier? i didn’t recognize the number- i had no idea it was you, i’m sorry!” you apologize quickly, thinking that if she was actually calling to offer you the job, you might have just ruined it.

“don’t worry about it. i would be surprised if you recognized it given that this is my personal number,” her voice was low and warm. it was entirely too enticing.

“oh.. umm, right. well, good morning,” you stumble slightly over your words, unsure what else to say to her.

“are you normally a late riser?” she asks with humor in her voice.

“what? oh no, not normally no. i just don’t have classes today,” you explain, a little embarrassed at her having called you out on your sleeping habits.

“i see. well, we just wanted to call and ask if you’d meet us for a coffee,” her question came out as more of a statement and you were left wondering why on earth she would want to go out for coffee with you and…wait.. did she say we?

“we?” the words echo aloud from your mind.

“yes. my wife and i,” she reiterates calmly. you look around your small excuse for a kitchen as if the reasoning behind her posing this question was written on the walls.

“like today?” you ask stupidly. of course she meant today.

“yes - today. can you meet us in 15? we’re going on lunch break. i’ll text you the address.” your eyes zip to the digital numbers plastered on the microwave. you only had 15 minutes to try and look presentable, get a cab and meet them.

“ummm..yeah. yeah sure,” you nod your head as if she could see you through the phone. you quickly hop off the stool you were sitting on, walking briskly to the bathroom with the phone still held firmly to your ear.

“perfect. we’ll see you soon.” she hangs up and you all but toss your phone on the bathroom counter, staring down at the device as if it’s offended you. you quickly snap out of it, only having 5 or so minutes to un-hobo yourself. you quickly apply some concealer on your dark spots, powder on a little blush and brush on a coat of mascara in record time. in your haste, you stumble from the bathroom to your closet, trying to find something to quickly throw on. you grab a simple white baby tee, putting it on and then aggressively stepping into some loose light wash jeans. grabbing your belongings, you half jog out the door, nearly slipping down the last two stairs of your apartment.

you quickly get a cab, thanking whatever higher power there is in your head that there was very little delay in one driving by. as the taxi driver takes you to the address you gave him, you sit forward in your seat, gathering your hair in a pony tail near the top of your head. you secure it with an elastic you always keep around your wrist and pull some pieces out to frame your face. you glance in the cab rear view mirror, seeing you looked fairly presentable. you exhale shakily, sitting back in your seat as the same nerves you felt yesterday on the way to your interview were coming back now.

what was this about? i mean, you knew it wasn’t normal to meet with potential employees for coffee. it was especially suspicious because it was mrs. romanoff *and* her wife.

your thoughts are interrupted as the taxi slows to a crawl and he pulls up to the coffee shop. you’d never been to this one before, granted there were hundreds of shops all over the city so there were probably many you hadn’t gone to. your heart leaps in your chest as you see both mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff waiting outside for you.

you pass the driver the money, thank him and slip out of the car. as you step onto the sidewalk, mrs. maximoff greets you with the same warm smile she’d given you when you first met. mrs. romanoff smiles too, though it’s not as wide as her wife’s.

“hello again, (y/n).” your heart skips a beat as you hear mrs. maximoff use your first name for the first time. mrs. romanoff had been calling you by your first name since you’d stepped foot into her office. you liked the way your name fell from both of their tongues.

“hi, good to see you both again,” you smile despite your nerves, making eye contact with both of them in a polite manner.

“shall we?” mrs. romanoff suggests as she opens the door for you, her wife placing a gentle hand on the small of your back to usher you inside. you inhale shakily, the unexpected contact surprising you in a pleasant way.

as the three of you file in behind the small line of people waiting to order, your eyes skim the menu, even though you already knew exactly what you wanted.

“cute outfit,” mrs. romanoff murmurs from behind you. you could hear what sounded to be amusement in her tone but you weren’t sure.

you turn to the side to face her, her being on your left and mrs. maximoff on your right just a half-step behind you. “thank you. i threw it on—literally. i was wearing something a lot less presentable when you first called.” you glance down at both of their outfits. the duality between yours and their outfits was almost laughable. they looked impeccably fashionable and you were just in street clothes.

wanda chuckles lightly at your comment. “what were you wearing before?” she asks.

“just an oversized tee and some biker shorts,” you shrug, crossing your arms casually over your chest. you always felt more comfortable when you had your arms wrapped around yourself.

as the line moves and you’re next, mrs. romanoff quickly stands in front of you, her body moving between you and the counter. “what’ll you have?” she gives you an expectant look, ready to give your order.

“an iced mocha?” you ask a little shyly, her show of putting herself between you and the cash register did something to you for some reason.

she nods, and turns to the barista, repeating your order along with hers and her wife’s. you’re about to protest, wanting to tell her she doesn’t have to pay for you, but you feel mrs. maximoff’s hand return to the small of your back, swiftly maneuvering you away from the line and over to the small cluster of tables.

you sit down in a chair she pulled out for you and you scoot yourself in as mrs. maximoff settles in her own seat across from you.

“you really don’t have to pay for me, you know,” you pipe gently, glancing over at mrs. romanoff who was standing at the counter waiting for the drinks before you turn back to mrs. maximoff.

“of course not, we want to. plus, neither her nor i would ever allow you to pay for yourself even if you insisted,” she smiles winsomely, her eyes gleaming with something warm and bright.

mrs. romanoff returns with all three coffees, somehow handling all three and setting them down in a graceful manner.

“thank you,” you give mrs. romanoff a gentle smile as your fingers interlock around the cup and you drag it closer to you.

they both take a sip from their coffees—which were both hot—before mrs. romanoff clears her throat, her eyes narrowing in on you as she leans forward on the table.

“so, i imagine you’re wondering why we asked you here.” she throws a glance at her wife who was already looking at her speak.

“it may have been on my mind…” you trail off, sounding as innocent as possible.

mrs. romanoff smiles knowingly, her eyes appraising you in a way that made you squirm slightly in your seat.

“it’s not about the job, as i’m sure you might have figured, but rather about offering a different type of position,” she begins. your brow furrows in confusion. what did she mean?

“a different position? like a cleaning job or something?” you immediately go to thinking about jobs that require little to no experience, figuring that might be all they’d have to offer given your background.

they both laugh at your guess, mrs. romanoff being the one to shake her head no.

“no, not a cleaning job,” she pauses, seeming to measure your expression before continuing. “(y/n), have you ever heard the term bdsm?”

your face goes blank and you look from mrs. romanoff to her wife who appeared to be watching you just as carefully.

“um…i think so? i’ve heard the term a few times before.” your legs feel like they’ve turned to jelly, an unfamiliar pit settling into your lower tummy at the abrupt shift in the topic of conversation.

“what do you know about it?” mrs. maximoff chimes in, tilting her head to the side which causes some of her neatly curled hair to fall forward.

you look between the two of them, unconsciously shrinking further down into your seat. this was such a taboo subject to talk about it public; you found yourself already growing warm from just the thought of this discussion.

“well, it’s..sex stuff…right? like being tied down and whipped?” you speak hesitantly in a small voice, throwing quick glances at the strangers littered across the coffee shop.

“those things can be a part of it, yes—if all parties discuss that’s something they like to participate in” mrs. romanoff explains and then continues. “what else have you heard about it? or is that the gist of what you know?”

you shrug, your shoulders slumped forward and your head bowed slightly to try and obscure your flushed cheeks. you suck your bottom lip into your mouth—your nervous habit.

mrs. maximoff pipes in again after noticing your bashfulness. “a lot of people have that imagery in mind when they hear the term ‘bdsm,’ so it’s understandable that that’s your impression. there is so much more to it though. really, bdsm is about exploring people’s sexual interests in a safe space. you learn about your limits, what you like, what you didn’t expect to like, and so much more.” you listen to her explanation intently, your mind immediately wandering and wondering where this conversation was going to go.

mrs. romanoff picks up off her wife’s words. “some people simply dabble in certain aspects of bdsm while others treat it more as a lifestyle—and for my wife and i, it is a lifestyle.”

you nod hesitantly as they both pause for a second, watching you digest this information. you’re unsure how to respond, feeling progressively more restless in your seat.

they both give each other a look before mrs romanoff nods and mrs. maximoff speaks.

“normally, for people who live this lifestyle, they draw up contracts between themselves and the person they want as their submissive.. now we know this is all very forward, but there’s just no other way to put it. we’d like to have you as our new submissive.”

your face turns bright red for reasons you’re not fully aware of. you weren’t quite sure what being a “submissive” all entailed, but you couldn’t wipe the imagery of being helplessly tied down and whipped from your mind. you’re silent as your brain flits through one imaginary scenario to the next. you were so clueless though, you weren’t sure if the things you were thinking up were things people actually did or if they were just shown in porn.

“me…? i just..well it’s just that..i’m-i don’t know if i would be your ideal candidate,” you stumble out, your eyes glued to the table as you avoid looking at either of them at all costs.

“on the contrary, (y/n), i singled you out almost immediately at our interview. i knew i wanted you. that’s why i had wanda join us.” her face softens as she notices your slight uneasiness. being a bit of a sadist though, she couldn’t help but find your innocence and embarrassment so incredibly gratifying. it only made her want you more.

your teeth worry into your bottom lip again as you look between one set of green eyes and then the other. “do you guys normally.. share, uhm..submissives?”

“not always, but we do like to when it’s possible,” wanda shares, a reassuring smile on her face. you purse your lips, chewing on the inside of your cheek as more questions arise in your head.

“how does that work? sharing i mean.” you knew there were people who participated in polyamorous relationships, and you had no issue with it, you just had trouble visualizing the dynamic.

natasha grins wickedly to herself, realizing now how truly innocent and unknowing you were. she suspected a little yesterday at the interview, but had no idea the true scope of your innocence. wanda also found herself undeniably more attracted to you after this conversation. her hands twitch in her lap, thinking of all the things she could do to you that you probably haven’t ever dreamed of.

“it works (y/n), trust me…” mrs. romanoff says seductively.

“we know this is all very foreign to you, sweetheart. you don’t have to say yes today, just think about it?” mrs. maximoff reaches across the table and affectionately holds onto your wrist. your stomach does a little flip-flop at the term of endearment paired with the affection.

there were so many thoughts and feelings swirling around you, but one thing stuck out above the rest. you wanted to learn more. you didn’t want to say no and close a door on something that you might enjoy.

“i want to.. i mean, um, i will think about it,” you clear your throat for the umpteenth time that day, pulling your hand back from mrs. maximoff’s light grasp. it was suddenly feeling like her hand was searing your skin.

“you want to what?” mrs. romanoff presses, her eyes looking at you with intensity again.

“i just meant that i want to learn more..about this,” you reply quietly, peeking at mrs. romanoff through your lashes. you notice her clench her jaw and flex her fingers that were resting on the table, but you weren’t sure what it meant.

“well, there’s a lot to learn, but luckily i’d say we’re both pretty good teachers,” mrs. maximoff grins more wickedly this time, her expression giving you a new glimpse into something you hadn’t seen in her until this point.

“why don’t we meet up again sometime this weekend? we can answer any questions you have—help you learn more about what we’re asking from you,” she adds, to which you surprisingly feel eager to agree to the idea. you find yourself already wanting to learn more, especially if the people who were going to educate you were two of the hottest women alive.

“yeah…let’s do that,” you nod once, your blush slowly creeping off your cheeks though a slight honey glow was still present.

you all begin to gather your things, mrs. maximoff noticing their lunch break was just about up. the three of you hardly touched your coffees, the conversation too intense to take swigs of the drinks.

the two of them walk you out of the shop, mrs. romanoff hailing down a cab for you. you turn to say goodbye to mrs. maximoff and find that she’s standing closer to you than expected.

“i look forward to seeing you again so soon, dragotsennaya veshch’,” she murmurs, reaching to give your arm an affectionate squeeze. you smile at her, unsure what she said but not caring much to know now.

you step closer to the cab after mrs. romanoff opens the door for you. before you can slip inside the car, mrs. romanoff leans down, murmuring in your ear.

“if you have any questions before the weekend that simply can’t wait, don’t hesitate to text me. you have my number.” her voice was a little rough which makes you shiver.

you nod slowly, sucking on your bottom lip again. you give mrs. maximoff a shy hand wave which she mimics with an amused grin. you sink down into the car seat, mrs. romanoff shutting the door behind you.

as the taxi drives away, you can’t help but look behind you as the two women grow smaller and smaller on the sidewalk. as the car turns a corner, the couple remain standing there until you disappear. you sigh and turn back around in your seat, resting heavily against the cushion behind you.

what just happened?

——————————

tag list:

@poppyshuman @wandamaximoffsbadgirl @xenaizogie @ashadash0904 @kittnii @hayeeonn @gh0sstss @beggingonmykneesforher @natashalover3000 @msvenablesbitch @ihartnat @leesromanova @alwaysgoodnight @lowlifejuliett @azaleavolkova @caramelcat123 @daretodream1307-blog @ctrlaltedits @sweetmissnothing @gecko1 @karmasgxrl @marvelwomenarehot0 @elle161989 @waaayoutofline @snazzysprig @simpforlizzie @just4natasha

[wandasaura]

CRUEL SUMMER

summary — maybe you were oblivious to the way you teased natasha with a cherry flavored popsicle, or maybe you’d known all along and you were just waiting for her to break

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, temperature play, outdoor sex, nipple play, oral, degradation, food play (a popsicle and it’s never inserted), mild humiliation, semi orgasm control, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamics, brief domestic fluff, horrible popsicle stick joke, men/minors dni

authors note — a little summer snippet of our favorite couple! just wanted to expand on a little thought i had a few days ago!

you are in love

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

The cherry flavor was tart as it spread across your tongue and tinted your lips the same color as Natasha’s hair, not your favorite flavor from the selection currently stashed toward the back of the freezer, but Wanda had mistaken it for strawberry when you asked so kindly for a treat. Your tongue swirled around the popsicle lewdly, catching each droplet of thawed syrup and ice before it had the chance to make a mess of your fingers. You had no desire to join your girlfriends in the pool, enjoying the stillness of the lounge chair that you made yourself comfortable against.

Despite your reluctance to plunge deep into the warm water, your body was covered minimally, triangular pieces of fabric concealing only what mattered most, although the visible swell of your breasts was undeniably tantalizing as rivulets of perspiration clung to you.

You waved at Wanda when she resurfaced, giggling softly at the disheveled appearance she sported despite her composed demeanor. The salt water had allowed kinks to form in her silky hair, and thin strands clung to her cheeks despite how she ran her fingers through her tresses and attempted to pull them taut behind her shoulders. She waved back, sending you a teasing wink before she was gone again, a blur of vibrant colors beneath the water as she kicked off the side of the pool and swam toward the deep end; her need for physical activity even on her days off boggled you, but a bored Wanda was not someone you wanted to deal with, so you watched her glide through the water with no outward commentary.

You sighed softly, eyes closing behind the thick frames of your sunglasses, tongue still working on the swiftly melting popsicle, savoring every ounce of tartness that dissolved on your tongue. You could always get up and retrieve another, but they tasted so much better when Wanda did the work for you, and you wouldn’t get so lucky if you asked her again. She’d just barely complied the first time, huffing beneath her breath about how she’d inadvertently turned you into a princess all while she disappeared into the house.

You frowned instinctively when something obstructed the warm sunlight cascading down against your face, inadvertently shielding your body from the gentle burn that was forming against your already tanned skin (this was not the first day you’d spent by the pool with your girlfriends, and it wouldn’t be the last until the cool days of September rolled around). The cloudless sky hadn’t provided anything more than a gentle breeze in hours, and curiously your eyes fluttered open, expecting to find a stray cloud to blame, though only to come up with a set of dangerous green eyes narrowed thinly in your direction.

Shyly, you peered up at Natasha, vibrant cherry popsicle still between your stained lips as you gazed at her sweetly. Droplets of salt water raced down her arms and perfectly toned thighs, sparkling beneath the sunlight she shielded you from. If you hadn’t been aware of how your movements taunted her before, you were now, realizing that her dazzling green eyes weren’t trained on yours like you’d initially thought, but rather watching closely as you lapped at the cool juices that threatened to dirty your hands and dragged your tongue slowly across the length of the frozen treat in an attempt to savor its subpar escape from the heat. Months ago, you would’ve apologized sheepishly, would’ve submitted beneath Natasha’s heavy stare the second it had fallen upon you, but now, with a refreshing confidence and security in your relationship, you moved the sunglasses up to the top of your head, holding her stare as you plunged the frozen treat as far as the wooden stick would allow, hollowing your cheeks only to suck in suggestively as you swirled your tongue around the treat.

“Parshivets.” She muttered beneath her in Russian, and while you were still learning her and Wanda’s native language, that single word was one of the few burned into your mind without translation. Brat. She’d called you that name for the first time only a few weeks ago, in a moment of intense connection that had both of your limbs trembling by the end, but somehow it had stuck just as easily as duckling had. You weren’t sure what you heard more of anymore, your name, or that single title that had wetness pooling in your panties instantaneously.

“Tvoy parshivets.” You rebutted, eyes narrowing challengingly as you glared up at her. Your defiance was the final straw, the last test of her patience, and within seconds, before you could even comprehend what was coming next, your beloved popsicle was in her hands and between her lips. “Hey!”

“Shut up.” She grumbled around the treat, slowly stalking closer, pressing her thighs into the edge of the lounge chair you laid across possessivky, making no move to press her body into yours like you’d anticipated, though the her simple presence was enough to assert ownership. When she pulled the popsicle away from her lips, she tilted it over your body, watching calmly as red droplets of thawed syrup fell against the exposed skin of your chest and belly. You shivered, a displeased whine filling the air that had been silent aside from the sounds of rippling water for so long. “I said: Shut. Up.”

“Why don’t you make me then!” You argued, kicking out in an attempt to rile her up, only to be captured by her strong grip before the sole of your foot could make contact with her thigh. You yelped in surprise when she pulled you down, your head falling onto the lower section of the lounge chair, your knees bent as your uncaptured foot remained steadily on the edge of the chair.

Her lips were on yours in a bruising kiss before you could recover from the abrupt change in position, her body hovering above yours as to not rub against the syrup slowly trickling down your body and staining your bikini top. Her lips were cold against yours, and as she descended down your body, shivers erupted across your spine, not only from the sensation of her icy lips against your pulse point, but in anticipation. Instinctively your thighs fell open, welcoming her body between them, which she appreciated and made sure to acknowledge. You moaned pathetically when her core ground into yours, her mound appling an addictive pressure to your clit.

“Daddy-” You whimpered, your bratty exterior melting away faster than your popsicle as her fingers worked to unravel the knot holding your bikini in place at the nape of your neck, her tongue following the trail of vibrant red syrup down your exposed breast. You gasped when the flimsy material was discarded, her lips wasting no time before they captured your nipple, her teeth biting down on the pebbled bud deliciously hard. A whimpered whine alerted Wanda of your current predicament, yet all the redhead offered was an amused laugh before she dove head first into the water again.

“Do you know what you were doing to me, utenok? Do you know how badly I wanted to come over here and replace that fucking popsicle? You’re all bark and no bite. The second Daddy’s lips are on those needy little nipples all you can do is whine. It’s pathetic.” She sneered, her tone laced with calculated mockery as she kept a firm grip on the stick of your treat, apparently not yet done with it.

Your bottoms were the next thing to go, leaving your body dressed in only a pair of designer sunglasses and red syrup. The last thing you’d been expecting was for her to bite the rest of your ice pop off the stick, swallowing it whole and attacking your unsuspecting cunt, but you watched it happen as if the world was in slow motion, felt the sensations creep into your bones as if they were merely in a movie, but all at once it caught up to you, and the sheer shock of her cold mouth against your hot center had your back arching off the lounge chair, inadvertently pushing your center farther into her face.

She lapped at your cunt with fervent motions. Her teeth nipped, her lips suckled, and her tongue; there were no words to describe the sensations her tongue provoked as she plunged it deep within your core, massaging your sensitive inner walls and your g-spot before she allowed it to soothe your clit with harsh stroke and flicks. Your moans were breathy as you grasped at her hair, pulling harshly at red curls that tickled your thighs as they fell over her shoulders, not sodden with water like Wandas, although for a fleeting second you wondered what it would feel like to have the saturated woman undoing you so passionately.

“Daddy!” You cried out when you felt the approaching pleasure of your orgasm building, your hands pushing at her head, unsure of what you craved more of and what was entirely too much. You whimpered when you felt the stretch of her fingers coming home to your pussy, allowing you no adjustment period as two fingers plunged deep into your cunt, replacing her tongue that instead sought out your tingling bud of hypersensitive nerves. “Daddy! Daddy!” Her name was a sacred mantra on your lips, falling into the air as you writhed beneath her strong grip, attempting to drive her farther into your body.

“You gonna cum? Are you gonna cum for me, parshivets? My filthy fucking girl, getting fucked outside, where anyone can hear you? Is that what you want? You want Agatha to hear you? I bet her windows open. I bet she’s inside, sitting at her table trying to read, but she can’t because all she can hear are your desperate fucking moans as your Daddy fucks you.” Natasha’s words sent vibrations through your core, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of pleasure, though she never permitted it. She never once gave you the answer you needed to fully enjoy it, and fiercely, you fought off your approaching orgasm because of that silent denial.

When her fingers curled into you, massaging that delicate spot that had you seeing stars, you almost begged for her to stop, to lighten up, but before you could, she gave you the one thing you needed. “Cum for me. Make a mess.” Natasha encouraged, rapturing your pulsating clit and spasming walls, drinking all of your pleasure before she pulled away, her mouth glistening, her fingers sparkling. You gasped for breath, chest rising and falling as you panted, the heat only heightening your breathlessness. “You don’t know how long I’ve been holding out for. Wanda thought I’d break the second you unwrapped that fucking popsicle.”

Sheepishly, you giggled softly, readjusting your sunglasses when Natasha stood up and moved aside, the sun falling over your body once more. “I didn’t realize until you came over here. I wasn’t even doing it on purpose.” You admitted, though Natasha had already known that.

“Oh, I know. You’re just too fucking tempting for your own good.” She giggled, kissing your lips sweetly, your arousal still coating her tongue as she licked at your lips teasingly. When she pulled away, she glanced down at the stick in her hands, a soft laugh falling off her lips. “Why did the book join the police force?”

“He wanted to be undercover!” Wanda bellowed from the pool, apparently honed in on your conversation despite how frequently she disappeared beneath the welcoming water.

“I’m all sticky now.” You pouted, realizing that the syrup, despite being licked off, had left a reside on your skin.

“I guess you’ll just have to join us then.” Before you could acknowledge her, Natasha had picked you up in her arms, your bathing suit still discarded on the grass in a messy heap of fabric, although the picket fence around the property prevented you from being seen, so it didn’t matter much if you out it back on or not. You shrieked when you realized what she was doing, but before you could plead for your freedom, she’d dropped you into the deep end.

“Nat!” You scolded when you resurfaced, your freshly washed hair now soiled by the salt water that dampened it.

“Oops?” Your girlfriend sang sweetly, jumping in right beside you, capturing you in her tight embrace with faux sympathy. “Go get Wanda.” She whispered in your ear, and that was enough to win her forgiveness, immediately seeking out your other girlfriend who pretended to despise the way you clung to her like a koala.

“I love you.” You mumbled against her lips, catching her by surprise though not an unpleasant one.

“I thought I got you strawberry. Sorry, baby.” She apologized softly, holding tightly to your naked ass, giving it a teasing spank beneath the water.

“That’s okay. Cherry’s Nat’s favorite.”

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Bound by Desire

I've Got a Feeling (1)

Dom!Natasha x switch!Wanda x subby!brat!fem!reader

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: Natasha and Wanda have been in a happy and healthy BDSM relationship for years, but have been looking for a third for Wanda's sake. When they meet you, they might have gotten more than they bargained for.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, BDSM relationship, dom!nat, switch!Wanda, sub!reader, Daddy!nat, Mommy!Wanda, strap use(r receiving), bondage (more will be added as things occur)

A/N: I worked on this all yesterday and some the day before when the idea came to me. Please Enjoy~

The sun filtered through the curtains of the bedroom windows and the skylights. You had never appreciated the morning before, but as you wake up under silk sheets; your sleep shorts and tank top it feels right.

As you stretched out you felt a set of arms wrap around you, pulling you close and breathing you in. A smile spreads across your face.

“Good morning Pchelka.” The husky voice you'd come to know as Natasha whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Good morning Daddy.” You have a purr to your voice as she kisses over your shoulder and up your neck.

Small noises making their way out of you as her hand glides down between your legs. She rubs you over your shorts only increasing the need and ache between your legs.

“Tasha! Honey bee! Breakfast! Come help with setting the table!” Wanda called up the stairs.

You didn't want to, but a whine came out of your mouth and a chuckle from Natasha.

“Mommy is calling Pchelka. Guess you'll have to wait a little longer.” She whispered in your ear making another whine come out.

“Please Daddy…so achy…” you turned slightly to look into her dark green eyes. Pleading with your own for her to give in, but you knew better by now.

Her hands slipped away from you as she got up. “No Pchelka. Mommy's calling and you know not to keep her waiting. Head down, I'll be there in a few minutes.”

A pout on your face as you got out of the sheets, another shiver overcoming you as your feet hit the cold hardwood flooring. You headed down to find Wanda still cooking, by the smell of it she had turkey bacon. You learned early on that Wanda liked anything that was a healthier option.

You moved over to her, leaning up and kissing her cheek, “Good morning Mommy.” You felt her smile as you kissed her cheek.

“Good morning my precious girl. Did you sleep well?” Her arm wraps around your waist and gives a kiss back to your cheek.

“I did Mommy, but then Daddy started to tease me when I woke up…” you complain, giving the same pleading eyes to Wanda.

“Oh my poor little girl. I bet you're all achy right?”

Your lip is shaking in a pout, all you want is their touch right now. Wanda gives you a sympathetic look. Leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Please Mommy…so achy…” you bury your face between her arm and chest. She pulls you back out, gently by your chin.

“Dorogoya, be a good girl for Mommy, get the table set, get me out the juice and after breakfast we can discuss your neediness.” You wanted to protest, but knew that would result in a punishment instead of a reward. So you got to doing as asked.

Their dining room is elegant and bathed in soft morning light streaming through tall, arched windows draped with sheer, ivory curtains. A crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a gentle glow over the room. The polished mahogany dining table is set by you with lovely plating and sparkling glassware, ready for a refined breakfast. Elegant high-back chairs, upholstered in rich, deep blue velvet, are neatly arranged around the table. A vase of fresh flowers that Wanda changes weekly, a mix of white lilies and pale pink roses, sits as the centerpiece, adding a touch of natural beauty to the sophisticated setting. The atmosphere is serene and inviting, perfect for a leisurely morning meal.

You smile at your handy work before bounding back through the curved archway to the kitchen. You stop in your tracks when you see Natasha's arms wrapped around Wanda's waist, as they share an intimate moment it makes something bubble inside of you. Your hands curl into fists and then out a few times.

“Hey!” It's bubbling over before you can stop it. “I set the table and I come back to this!?” Your voice is a shrieking tone. Wanda and Natasha looking at you. Though Natasha wants to stop this before it starts Wanda stares you down.

“Y/N. We were having a moment just like you and I were before you went to set the table, remember?” Wanda's voice is gentle and motherly, it always was. You know logically she's right and besides, they're married you're just some college girl they felt sorry for.

You look down at your fingers that are now absentmindedly dancing together. “M’Sorry Mommy…” You manage out. They deserve each other, you're just here to help. Eventually they'll get bored of you and then you'll be back to your old life living in an apartment that's two sizes too small and way too expensive.

“It's okay dorogoya, come get the juice and we'll have breakfast. Come here and give Mommy a hug first.” She calls, ushering you over as Natasha takes the plates of bacon, pancakes, and eggs to the dining room.

You trudge your way over to Wanda, burying your face into her chest as her arms encircle you. Her hands rubbing your back lightly in an attempt to quell the feelings rising inside of you, but she couldn't help the feelings she didn't know about. You weren't about to tell her either as she soothed you with kind words of reassurance without ever actually mentioning the words ‘I love you.’

°○°○°○°○°

She filled you perfectly. Her strap was made for you and though earlier this was all you wanted, now it was somehow feeling suffocating. Your thoughts from earlier never stopped. They'd been going through your head all day. You'd just wish it would stop as you tried to concentrate on the pleasure your Mommy was giving, but it wasn't helping.

Thoughts racing and suddenly it's all feeling like too much and you're pulling at your restraints. “Red!” Everything stops and in a whirl you're set free. Wanda tries to scoop you up, but you stop her. “Space.” It wasn't often you asked for that as you got off the bed in a hurry, running to your room.

You curled up under the sheets, tears falling as your body shook. You heard the soft knock at the door, thanking yourself you had locked it.

“Dorogoya please let me in, I just want to talk.” Wanda's voice called for you lovingly, making you clam up more. You didn't want to talk, you wanted to be silent, words felt too hard right now. “Y/N…please let me in…” you heard her voice crack ever so slightly.

You had never gone non-verbal around them, you had never brought it up either. You internally cursed yourself for this as you sat up, wrapping a blanket around yourself and plod over to the door, twisting the lock and moving back to your spot in the middle of the bed.

You heard Wanda slip in behind you, her soft steps on the hardwood. The bed sinking beneath her weight. Judging by the feeling she sat away from you towards the pillows.

You couldn't look at her, but you heard her take in a sharp breath before speaking. “I'm not sure why you called red darling, but whatever the reason is I'm glad you did call it when you needed to. I know we're still getting used to this. It's only been a month so I'm sure we're going to have bumps along the way. I'd like to fix this if possible.” Wanda's trying to make things better and still you can't answer her.

You finally sit up facing her. She's in a scarlet robe, she must have thrown it on quickly once she took off her strap. There was only one time you had called red and it was from lack of reassurance.

Wanda had been using a lot of degrading on you in a session and not enough praise. You ended up calling red and crying in her arms for a bit.

You point to your throat and making a silent scream, trying to let her know you can't talk as she looks at you a little confused. Then you added a zipped lip to it and it clicked.

“You can't talk right now, okay, that's fine. I can work with that until you can. So yes or no questions?” She asks with a little head tilt and you give a nod.

“Was it something I did?” You shake your head. “Was it something you did?” You tilt your head from one side to the other, contemplating before pointing to your brain. “Okay your head, was it bad thoughts?” You give her a nod.

You're scrunching up the blanket in your hands, worried about what's to come next for you. Tightening back up a bit before she shifts forward just enough to reach out for your chin. Such a gentle clasp she has as you tilt up to meet those sea glass eyes.

“Darling whatever those bad thoughts are saying I can promise you they are untrue. I know that's hard to believe because you haven't told me about them, but I know they're untrue.” Her honeyed voice always wrapped around you. It made you feel so safe. Like nothing could hurt you.

The tears fall freely as you crawl into her lap, koalaing your way around her. She soothes you the whole time, rubbing your back and humming a light tune, every so often a bit of Sokovian comes out in the song.

You could have stayed like that for hours. It almost felt like you did, yet at the same time it felt like mere minutes.

“M'Sorry Mommy…I just…bad thoughts…felt suffocated…” She kept rubbing your back, not forcing anything out of you. “I just…feel like you and Tasha are gonna get bored of me…you have each other and…and…” your voice started cracking as more tears fell.

Wanda wanted to intervene; she knew exactly where those thoughts were going, yet she let you talk. Knowing it would be best to let you get it out. It was already eating you alive.

“Just want to be important…want to be special…” Your throat stung as you choked back sobs to keep it together long enough to speak.

“Oh my precious little honey bee. Mommy was right, those thoughts aren't true. You mean so much to Daddy and I. You are our perfect little girl. The missing piece to our puzzle. We wouldn't dream of letting you go.” She always knew what to say, making your tears fall more.

She pulled you back just enough to wipe the tears. A small apologetic smile gracing her lips. “I know my words only go so far, but I will always make sure to let you know you are loved by us. You aren't something we're tossing away.”

You smiled before pressing your forehead to hers. She took the opportunity to give you a little peck.

“Thank you for the reassurance Mommy. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier.”

“That's okay honey bee. I'm glad you were able to tell me. I do worry about you not telling me things. I know you like to carry everything, but I'm here and so is Nat. You can tell us anything.”

You simply nod against her, re-resting yourself onto her shoulder. A soft content sigh falling from your lips. You knew the bad thoughts would come back, but now you know you can always talk about it.

Taglist: @itsalwaysskorpioszn @boredandneedfanfics @godhatesgoodgirls

[ncis-nerd]

Breaking Point

older!nat x reader

warnings: anxiety, sleeping problems, mentally exhausted, crying, hints of mental illness?, age difference, petnames, spilled water, arguing, wet clothes, burnout?

grey november au

"And I think we have space in our budget to do such a thing" Tony shrugged. You had another meeting and the earth's mightiest heroes could not agree upon how they wanted to spend the extra money they had.

You sighed softly, waiting for something solid so you could go back to note-taking. Natasha's eyes fell on you, after listening to Tony and Steve's back and forth.

"You okay" She mouthed, seeing your eyes drop. You were so tired, your anxiety had been worse lately and you couldn't sleep. Scratch that, you wanted to sleep but you were so busy with other work.

"I think we should take 5 before we have another situation guys.." Natasha side eyed Steve. "Hey! It wasn't my genius idea to use the metal suits" Steve rolled his eyes at Tony. Tony shrugged and said "sure, I could go for some water. Y/n?" His eyes fell on you.

Silence. "Yeah, can you get some for me and y/n too, please?" Natasha spoke up.

It was just you and Natasha in the room when she came over to you. She bent down, to your level to meet your gaze. "Dove?" Natasha spoke softly, the feeling of concern hinted in her voice.

"talia' m so tired.." you whimpered, raising your teary eyes to meet hers. It hurt her to see you in such distress. "Oh detka.." Natasha sighed, wrapping her arms around yours.

"I know you have sleeping problems.. Maybe we can talk to Bruce about that? Get you on sleeping pills?" Natasha spoke carefully, not sure on where you stood about on taking meds.

You nodded; you were open to just about anything because you were reaching to your breaking point. That is if, we weren't there already.

Natasha's fingers found its place in your hair, scratching your scalp softly.

__

Tony and Steve walked back into the room, both men holding 2 overfilled glasses of water. They walked very slow, attempting to not spill any.

You were sitting next to Natasha when they returned, neither men commented on this. Instead, they took their seats. Tony began to speak "Y/N? Remind me, where did we leave off?" Your eyes glanced at the notes on your computer. "Metal suits? The budget, we were brainstorming on what the spend the money on" You spoke softly, Natasha rested her hand on your thigh as a measure to comfort you and let you know she is here.

"Ah yes, the budget! As I was saying, I need some money for spare parts!" Tony exclaimed. Steve butted in "You already have a bunch of suits, how much more could you possibly need? " Steve huffed. As the two continued to argue, you picked up your cup to take a sip of water. Unfortunately it was filled to the max and you ended up spilling it all over you.

This caught the attention of Steve and Tony, distracting them from their argument. "I-" You stuttered. "And this concludes the end of the meeting. Steve, Tony, lets maybe not spend the whole meeting arguing next time?" Natasha jumped in, dismissing the tow men.

Steve and Tony left the conference room first. Before you could tear up, Natasha took your hand and let you to her room. "I think you need a warm, smoothing bath, babe. You need to relax, I'll run the bath and prep everything. Is that okay, dove?" Natasha spoke softly, her eyes meeting yours. You nodded.

taglist: @ssa-shaylam @madamevirgo @radcherryblossompainter @midastouch013 @dumbasslesbi @krystallevine @ellieromanov @fxckmiup @viosblog112-

part 2?

[sytoran]

home is where the heart is ★ m.list

IN WHICH your married life with Natasha Romanoff is depicted through this comedy-drama series. With your dream job, three kids, and a plethora of friends, each day is blissful but all the more chaotic and unpredictable. (And ultimately, very horny.)

⋆⭒˚｡★ CONTENT !!

pairing ★ sub!wife!natasha x beefy!butch!reader

genre ★ no powers au, smut, fluff, crack, slight social media au

warnings ★ (MINORS DNI) - explicit content, irregular updates, specific warnings in each chapter

notes ★ this has been brewing in the back of my mind for the longest time, i just finally decided to put it down into words... hope yall like this just as much as my other fics, if not more!

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

⋆⭒˚｡★ PROFILES !!

001. the l/n-romanoff clan

⋆⭒˚｡★ CHAPTER INDEX !!

001. BENTLEYS & BLUEBALLS [3.1k]

natasha wakes you up with a pleasant surprise, your gremlin kids are the life and death of you, tony stark is annoying, marital sexting is pretty tough, and you're homesick for your wife's pussy.

002. SURFBOARDS & SOURDOUGH [4.0k]

twitter's sole purpose is for you to thirst over your wife, the beach is a good place to spend time with your kids, and ogle at your wife in a bathing suit, but not a great a place to have sex. (lesson learnt).

003. THICK THIGHS & THEATRE [wip]

marina gets into trouble at school, you're one second away from punching a suburban mom, natasha is the calmer parent, you satiate your murderous desire between her thighs, and movie nights!!

LOADING...

© 𝐒𝐘𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍 2024 ━ do not copy, edit or translate my works

[m-cristiny]

Hawkeye 🏹

[yorkshireteauk]

kate jokingly says “being gay isn’t for me” one day to nat and is immediately met with a death glare from yelena who holds up her ring finger like a middle finger showing kate the very expensive wedding ring she bought yelena and yelena simply says

“too late i am legally your problem kate bishop”

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Spiders Sister - Chapter 1

Summary: Reader gets caught hiding out in the avengers tower. In the end it turns out for the best.

TW: non-sexual nudity, illness, fainting, swearing

Words: 4.1K

A/n: Super long first chapter

маленький паук – Little Spider

It defiantly wasn’t part of your life plan to be living with your bother again in your adulthood.

You had spent an excellent few months on your own having finally moved out of May Parker’s apartment, it had been perfect. Well … as perfect as life could be for a parker.

Then … you guessed it … parker luck struck again. There was a huge fight, one you had been itching to join but your brother, peter parker, had it covered. And since nobody knew that you sometimes wore the spider-man suit when peter wasn’t able to, it would all be over if two Spider-Man’s ended up fighting some of the weird aliens that had invaded New York.

You see, you and your brother had more in common than most siblings did. Peter parker had been bitten by a radioactive spider on a school trip as was known to a few people. But, at the same time, you had been eighteen and chaperoning the field trip.

When peter had snuck off to the side you had gone after him. When he was bitten, so were you.

But for now, you had decided to try and stay away from the superhero lifestyle. But when the itch came, peter lent you his suit so you could scratch it.

You had helped him refine his web-fluid and had your own web shooters as well as one of his old suits just in case. May knew about you and peter after finding out a while ago. However, peter and you had kept everything about your existence from the avengers so you could live a semi-normal life. At least for now.

But the day the avengers were fighting off the aliens, New York had taken some heavy damage. You had been running a small illustration business out of your apartment in queens. Your apartment … which was now levelled in the fight was gone. Along with your business.

Since you had moved out young, May only had one spare bedroom in her apartment which peter was occupying. Leaving the Parker’s with one option.

As peter had a room in the avenger's tower, you could stay there or with aunt may. Peter being Peter didn’t want to ask tony if he could stay in the tower for the unforeseeable future without arousing questions. So, you had been secretly living in the tower for about three days now.

Peter brought you food and had bribed Jarvis to keep your existence a secret. You had his old suit if you wanted to leave the tower, you could swing away instead of walking through the building and getting caught.

It was a pretty solid plan and it had been working pretty well. Until the day you got sick.

Peters' bedroom in the tower was on the floor with the other avengers, meaning you had to be somewhat quiet so Natasha, clint or the others didn’t find you. But it had begun to get colder out, and Peters old suit didn’t have a heater. It had been made before tony had found out spiders, including peter and yourself, can't thermoregulate. And swinging around New York without a heater in the nippy winter air had left you with a pretty nasty cold.

Unlike peter your powers didn’t give you super healing. In fact, your powers differed from peters in more ways than one. For one thing you had small fangs which you could retract, they didn’t do much, but they were cool, and peter was mildly jealous. Another thing was you had taken on aspects of jumping spiders as you could jump higher due to your super strength and some weird spider quality peter lacked.

Like peter the bit had given your excellent eyesight, increased metabolism, a lack of thermoregulation, the weird sticky thing, the spider sense and super strength and the allergy to peppermint. But due to sharing the suit anytime you went out as “Spider-Man” you had to refrain from using your own unique powers, so you didn’t give anything away.

The thermoregulating thing may have finally come back to bite you now that you were in peters old suit. After taking one of his patrols for him so he could finish his assignment and you could get out of his room in the tower, the cold had made you sick. Heres the thing about having a high metabolism when you don’t have an increased healing factor. It went one of two ways. Either you had flash colds which were taken care of quickly and at a much faster rate than the average human, or if it was stronger than your immune system, it was quickly made into a bigger problem than it should have been due to your body processing things faster and speeding up its strength.

Anytime this had happened in the past, due to not being able to go to a regular hospital, you had thanked the gods for May choosing a career in nursing. Though she had been able to treat you superficially with regular medicine and not anything made for super soldiers or spiders as that was a Bruce banner specialty that was unique to the tower's med bay. So, you often just had to ride it out and if things got really bad, peter would try and smuggle you some of his medicine out of the tower for you.

So, this is where you ended up. Curled up in Peters bed in the tower, stifling rough sounding coughs into his pillow and making a mental note to wash his sheets soon. You were doing your best to remain quiet and not alert either of the super spies to your presence or any of the other avengers. You thanked Thor that only you and peter had super hearing which meant you could usually tell if someone was in the halls.

Feeling miserable you buried yourself further into the sheets and shivered, it was so cold but in reality, you probably had a high fever. Your lungs let out a wheezing noise whenever you exhaled, and you were beginning to think maybe your asthma was back. Unlike peter you had not been so lucky as to have had it cured by the bite.

Your asthma puffer was one of the few things that survived your apartment being destroyed. As you laid in bed feeling awful you thought back to that day.

You thanked the gods you had been out at the time. You had gone to a coffee shop downtown with your sketchbook, laptop and usual things you took out, including a range of art supplies and of course your emergency puffer which peter had managed to smuggle out which had doses that worked with your metabolism.

You were broken from your daydreams as another harsh coughing fit wracked your body. From what you could hear nobody was in the halls, but you did your best to keep quiet regardless. The wheezing that trailed after each breath was getting worse and your lungs were feeling tight.

You had been trying to use the puffer sparingly so it didn’t run out because you didn’t know if and or when peter could get you another. But as drawing breath grew harder you made the executive call to use it. You rolled over in the bed and threw an arm down to fish around for your red backpack. Finding it you fiddled with the zip before your fingers wrapped around the cool plastic of the device. Tony being tony had insisted it have a Spiderman case thinking it was peters which ended up being rather ironic as it was fitting for you too.

You tried fruitlessly one last time to draw breath before achieving nothing but a crackling wheeze. Screw it. You uncapped the red lid and held it to your lips, propping yourself up on an elbow in an attempt to sit u straight to take it.

You exhaled and inhaled repeating it once more before drawing in a lungful of the super-medicine. Almost straight away you began to feel better. Your fast metabolism speeding up the medicines process.

Feeling like you could breathe again you replaced the cap and put it on the nightstand before curling up in the sheets again feeling cold still but also slightly damp from the thin layer of sweat that had been forming all morning.

You were dressed in spider-man pjs which had a thin t-shirt and long pants. You had considered getting up to grab one of peters hoodies to get warm or another blanket but the idea of standing up made your head spin.

You nestled back into the sheets and let your eyes fall shut despite it being almost midday. The curtains were drawn and so it didn’t bother you too much. You began to drift off into a semi-peaceful sleep broken by harsh coughing fits which were becoming harder to stifle in your half asleep and fevered state.

Meanwhile the avengers had just finished their morning training session, one which Peter had joined for once. Peter being Peter had barely broken a sweat and as a result had opted to hang out on the communal floor while everyone went o freshen up.

Stark had designed the tower well. With Peter’s bedroom being on the same floor as Natasha’s who was rather protective of her younger spider counterpart as well as Wanda’s, Yelena’s, Kate’s and a few spares. The rest of the avengers were a floor above.

At first peter had been a bit miffed about being on a floor of just girls but he ended up liking it a lot. And he had a second bedroom in the master suite with tony and Pepper which he proffered anyway. The one on the avenger's floor was more for if Tony and Pepper were away, and he wanted to be around the others.

Natasha was headed for her room after waving goodbye to peter who had settled down to watch more star-wars, when she paused in the hallway.

Retracing her steps she found herself stood outside peters bedroom door. Frowning she pressed an ear to the door and froze. Someone was inside and coughing. Knowing it wasn’t peter, nat carefully twisted the door handle.

Peter being peter had prepared for almost anything. As soon as Natasha had set foot inside peters room Jarvis had alerted peter of her presence.

Meanwhile Natasha peered into the dimly lit room. The lump in the bed was wriggling around and coughing. Nat was on high alert by now. She realised this person was ill but how had they managed to get in without Jarvis knowing? And why were they in peters bed?

She crossed the threshold and walked over to the bed. Taking note of the backpack on the floor and puffer on the bedside table as well as your spider-man pjs which had been a gag gift from Peter last Christmas.

Nat stood and observed for a second. Looking down at your flushed face which was burning with fever and the harsh coughs that were wracking your weak form.

Nat watched helplessly for a second unsure of how to deal with a sick intruder.

She hesitated before extending a hand to your forehead and feeling a very high fever. She sucked a breath. Despite being an intruder she had some ideas as to why you may have been here. Your likeness to peter wasn’t hard to spot. Yet. She was unsure.

Peeling of the blankets to get a better look at you, as she did you made a small noise of discontent and curled into a shaking ball still fever addled and half asleep.

Before she could continue the door opened and peter looked in.

“Uhh M-Ms Romanoff…” Peter said looking guilty as he stepped in and closed the door again.

“Peter, do you know who this is?” Natasha asked getting straight to the point. Peter hesitated and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Y-yes.” He said looking at your sick form with a frown.

“Peter.” She said crossing her arms. “Care to share whats going on?” Nat said as she headed for Peter’s bathroom.

“Um… She … she’s,, my sister.” Peter said unsurely. Natasha returned after a second and nodded. Now holding the first aid kit from peters bathroom in her arms.

“Anything else i should know?” She asked walking over to the bed and sitting down to rifle through the first aid kit.

“Petey?” You mumbled hearing his voice.

Peter seemed to break out of his trance and came to your side. “I’m here Y/n.” He said.

“‘S cold.” You mumbled making peter frown.

“Actually, I think she has a fever.” Nat said as she found what she was looking for, pulling out a thermometer from the kit.

Nat gently placed the thermometer under your tongue and turned to look at peter.

“Pete, you’re not in trouble but i need some more information.” Natasha said.

“This is Y/n. She’s, my sister. Her apartment was levelled in the last attack and so she’s been staying here ever since. She’s not a threat I promise.” Peter said almost tripping over his words in order to explain.

Before Nat could respond the thermometer beeped and she removed it to look at the small screen, drawing another round of coughs from you. Natasha rubbed your back with one hand while frowning at the screen.

“Peter… she should be dead. This says 106. There’s more isn’t there.” Nat said with some urgency as she began peeling the rest of the blankets off you in an attempt to cool you down.

“Ahh … yes. She had powers. Like mine. She … she wears the suit sometimes.” Peter said standing nearby and watching with a worried expression.

“Ok. So, she has spider powers? High metabolism, super strength, etc.” Nat said and Peter nodded. “Why hasn’t her healing fixed this?” Nat said feeling your forehead again.

“She doesn’t have it. Her powers differ slightly.” Peter explained as Nat cursed softly in Russian.

“Her fever’s still rising.” Nat said making a decision. “We need to cool her down fast before she gets too hot for her own good. Jarvis?” Natasha said and peter looked panicked for a second worried about more people finding out about you.

“Ms Romanoff-“ he started.

“Pete, we need to cool her down stat. I need some help.” She said and peter nodded still looking nervous. “Jarvis call wanda to Peter’s bedroom.” Nat said and peter relaxed slightly. Wanda was ok. She would be good for the situation.

“What are you going to do?” Peter asked.

“She needs a bath and I doubt you want to do that.” She said with a small smirk and Peter flushed for a second.

“Defiantly not.” He said shaking his head.

“Is there someone we can call? Someone who she’d be ok with dressing her once we cool her down. She may be sick but i don’t want to invade her privacy.” Nat said as she scooped you up from the bed and into her lap while they waited for wanda to arrive. You cough harshly again and wheezed making nat frown and look to peter.

“Asthma.” He said.

“Runs in the family huh?” She joked reaching over for the puffer on the bedside table.

“Uh… about that.” Peter said looking guilty. “Mine was cured by the bite. I need the puffers for her.” He said looking sheepish. Expecting Nat to be mad she grinned.

“You’re a good brother.” She said as she uncapped the device and pressed it to your lips.

“Exhale.” She instructed and by some small miracle you complied. When you went to inhale, she administered the medicine and told you to hold.

Recapping the device, she rubbed a hand up and down your arm. “Good job sweetie.” She said and felt you relax into her arms some more as you let out a breath.

The two sat in silence for another second before the door opened again and wanda slipped inside.

She was freshly showered, her hair damp and she smelt like jasmine and honey. She was dressed in a simple faded black t-shirt and grey track pants.

“Whats-“ she began before pausing, her eyes caught on you laid in Natashas lap half asleep.

“Wanda,” Nat said. “Meet Y/n. Peter’s older sister.” She said.

“Okay…” Wanda said looking lost before her expression morphed to concern as you coughed. “Is she ok?” Wanda asked.

“No. That’s why you’re here. Long story short, peter smuggled her into the tower, and she has spider powers and her fever is really high. We need to cool her down.” Nat said and wanda swallowed and nodded. “Peter?” Nat said turning to the younger parker.

“Yes?” He said looking up from where he had been studying his shoes closely.

“You never answered my question. Is there someone we can call to come and get her dressed after wanda and i bathe her?” Nat asked and peter blushed again and nodded.

“I can call May. It’s her day off.” He said and Nat nodded.

“You do that. Wanda and I will look after Y/n. We promise not to go further than her outer clothes.” She said and scooped you up into her arms. She headed for Peter’s bathroom with wanda trailing behind. You remained limp in her arms snuggled into her chest in an unconscious need for companionship.

Once the two redheads had you in the bathroom wanda looked at nat. “Now what?” She asked and Natasha smirked.

“Now we take her clothes off.” She said and gently she lifted your arms from where you were laid on the floor in her lap and pulled the spider-man t-shirt off over your head. Wanda blushed slightly at the sight of your red sports bra despite having seen Nat and herself train in about the same if not less clothes.

“You wanna help?” Nat asked with a grin that only served to make Wanda’s blush deepen. You squirmed slighting in Nat’s lap but stopped when she gently rubbed your arm after you buried your warm face into her stomach.

Wanda rolled her eyes in an attempt to feign nonchalance despite being way past that point.

She lifted her hands, and the familiar red glow of magic surrounded her hands. Her magic lifted your hips so Nat could slide off your pants. Wanda blushed again at the sight of your Black Widow boxers. Natasha however grinned at them finding it both adorable and very cute.

After a beat Wanda met Nat’s eyes again. “Now what?”

“We get her in the bath. She needs to be cooled down Asap.” Nat said hoisting you into her arms again as you wriggled, turning and grumbling into her chest.

“Not gonna lie she’s pretty cute.” Nat said and Wanda avoided her eyes as she used her magic to fill the bath with tepid water.

Natasha gently lowered you into the tub ignoring your whining protests and running her hands through your hair which seemed to calm you down as you relaxed again.

“So … now we wait?” Wanda guessed and Natasha nodded.

“Yep. Unless you really want to steal May’s job of getting her dressed again.” Nat teased making Wanda splutter slightly. “Im kidding.” Nat said. “I know what hot women do to your brain.” She winked and wanda slouched slightly.

After a second you grumbled and blearily opened your eyes, squinting at the two women.

“Peter is so dead.” You mumbled before letting your eyes drift shut again. There was a pause before wanda and nat both started laughing.

You groaned. “Peter!” You yelled before coughing again making Wanda and Nat frown. But before they could do anything the door opened to show a beat red peter with his hands covering his eyes.

“Yes?” He said in a small voice.

“When I get out of here, you’re dead.” You mumbled with a foggy glare sent in his direction.

“Hey. Peter did the right thing.” Another voice said from behind Peter.

“May?” You called. “Oh, wtf is going on right now.” You mumbled.

“Whats going on kiddo is that, once again, you failed to ask for help which landed you here.” May said entering the bathroom with a change of clothes.

“Nice to see you Ms Parker.” Nat said and wanda echoed.

“Please. Call me May. And thank you for looking after her.” May said and you groaned.

“I hate all of you.” You said hiding your face in your hands.

“Uh huh. Sure, you do.” May teased.

“It was no problem. Ms- May.” Wanda said. “We’ll wait in peters bedroom while you… yeah.” Wanda said before making a hasty retreat. Nat laughed and followed her out.

May gave you a disappointed frown once she had shut the door and turned back to you with a sigh.

“Honey.” She said.

“I know… I know.” You said still feeling like death but slightly less so. “Did the black widow and scarlet witch just really see me in my underpants?” You asked.

“Yes, and I serves you right for hiding illness … again!” She said as she came over, rolling up her sleeves and helping you out, practically holding all your weight for you as your head spun.

May frowned and guided you over to the covered toilet seat to dress you again.

Gently she began to towel you off and change you into fresh clothes.

“I can do it myself.” You whined but May shot you a look and you knew better than to challenge the angry Parker and you and peter had called her as kids when she was upset at you for something.

“Now, once you’re dressed you are going to thank those two for their kindness and your coming home with me.” May said.

“But-“ you began.

“No buts.” She said and helped you up, now fully dressed.

She helped you over to the door opening it despite still holding you up. The two of you shuffled into the room where Peter, Nat and Wanda were sat on Peter’s bed talking in hushed voices.

“Pete. I love you but I can hear everything you’re saying dumbass.” You said rolling your eyes and May lightly hit your arm.

“Right.” He said rubbing his neck. “Super hearing.” He nodded.

“I’ll add it to the list.” Nat grinned and you groaned before May jabbed you in the side and looked at the two girls.

You coughed at her actions making her frown but quickly got it under control for the sake of your already fragile image.

“Thank you, Wanda and Natasha, for helping me.” You said still leaning heavily on May. Now you had been standing for a bit the room began to spin. Your face went a shade paler making Natasha frown and stand. It was a split second before you stumbled, almost bringing May down with you in the process. Luckily strong arms wrapped around you, and you looked up into Nat’s pale green and worried eyes.

“Y/n?” You finally registered she was talking to you. “Y/n?” She asked again a little louder.

You let out a soft groan and she huffed. “Right. Up we go.” She said hoisting you into your arms and making the room spin again as you buried your face in her arm.

You felt her gently set you down on the bed and feel your forehead.

Distantly you heard May saying something along the lines of taking you home and the sound of Natasha arguing they were better equipped to help with your powers and sickness. May relented and you went back to dozing.

“What happened?” Peter asked from where he was stood by the door.

“Probably got too dizzy from standing up. Her body’s already trying to fight off sickness.” Natasha said and Wanda nodded.

“Peter? Don’t you have a super high metabolism?” Wanda asked.

“Yeah?” He said looking lost as May seemed to catch on.

“Y/n when did you last eat?” May asked and you groaned and buried your face in the pillow. “Well, that answers that.” May said rolling her eyes.

“Peter, do you have any of those energy bars that steve uses?” Wanda asked and peter nodded and headed for his bedside drawer.

He fished around and pulled out one of them and passed it to nat. She unwrapped it and shoved it into your hands.

“Eat.” She said and you made a groan of protest. “It’ll help.” She said in a softer tone.

“Fine.” You said sitting up against the headboard and nibbling on it slowly.

“Better.” Nat said and you frowned.

“You know you’re cute when you’re mad.” Wanda said looking surprised by her own words and blushing at Natasha’s knowing gaze.

“Get some rest маленький паук” Nat said once you had finished eating, and she begun to shepherd everyone out of the room.

PART 2

[scarlettsandmaroons]

full of cages | n. romanoff

about me | series masterlist | natasha romanoff masterlist

pairing: professor!natasha romanoff x collegestudent!reader

chapter seven | chapter eight: picture perfect, shiny family

chapter summary: you thought you got everything you wanted. turns out there was one more.

warnings: smut; very very slight somnophilia (if you squint) | minimal spanking, dirty talking, manhandling, own orgasm denial, masturbation, minimal choking | mommy kink, praising king, degradation kink | dom!natasha romanoff, slightly bratty but sub!reader. very visible cheating, fluff; around the first half. unedited, long.

a/n: the time has come for me to write smut!!!! dear lord, finally. just a heads up, i am not the biggest fan of writing smut, this chapter dragged on way too long than it should be because i don't like writing smut (i sincerely do not know how to write smut, but having finished 90% of wanda and natasha smut fics on tumblr made me feel like i'm good enough to go), so do take note to lower your expectations and that feedback is highly appreciated!!

you'd come to learn that mrs. romanoff was kinder than she looked overtime. she's secretly caring, she just had the worst way of showing it. of course after three months of calling her office your "third home" you ought to get to know mrs. romanoff at least a little bit.

three months you spent coming to her office every free period so she can closely watch you rewrite the papers she tore off before; three months you spent sitting alone in her lecture hall after her last class so she can teach you everything you were too distracted to listen to before; three months, and now, you're about to reap your hardwork.

"are you sure you're going to do this here?" mrs. romanoff asks with a sigh.

slowly, you noticed her forgo her intense professionalism towards you. she no longer ignores you, or humiliates you. perhaps, that's from your eagerness to learn, and slowly diminishing number of mistakes. but she greets you in the halls, and she lets you stay in her office more than she's supposed to; even when you're just doing nothing but scribbling on your notebook waiting for your next class.

"y/n! i got it," billy barged in.

billy stays in natasha's office a lot too. at least, before natasha calls it a night. anytime before then, especially when you two are busy, she only allows billy to stand outside.

you stand up, holding billy by his wrists and jumping in the nervousness you tricked your mind into thinking was excitement. you caught a glimpse of natasha sighing, her hand on her forehead in almost embarassment of the two children that's making noise in her office right now.

at some point, your dreams of natasha stopped. you were distracted sometimes, yes. but when you really need to focus, she makes sure to make you. and when you're alone in a lecture hall with mrs. romanoff, or in her office writing papers, she can get very scary when she wants to make sure you're paying attention.

but as billy got more involved with you and his mother; bringing you coffee when he can, or lunch when you both miss the time; waiting for the both of you to finish and going home together, you noticed the mrs. romanoff that only exists for billy. you notice the way mrs. romanoff would pack everything billy needs in her bag, or the way she subtly scolds her son when he does something stupid. you saw mrs. romanoff sweaters in her drawers specifically for when billy gets cold which he does so easily. some time last month, you even saw mrs. romanoff keep a bottle of billy's perfume on her desk for him to grab whenever he needs to. you started thinking of mrs. romanoff as more of your mother too. despite the occasional slips, you are always reminded that she is more of a mother to you.

especially when she cooks you eggs in the mornings, or drives you to school for when you decide to come a little earlier than billy. and when you saw how much mrs. maximoff loves her…

"goodmorning y/n!" you had just come done that morning somewhere over three months ago, and what welcomed you (and what has been welcoming you since then) was mrs. maximoff's voice all the way from the kitchen.

mrs. maximoff was washing the dishes, that's the sight you come down to every morning. but usually, there wasn't a plate of eggs, bacon and ham, on the island unless billy decides to cook for you which he hadn't since the first time since you'd wake up before him often. mrs. maximoff only whips you up some green juice to encourage a healthy lifestyle but you didn't see any of that that morning.

"come, sit, sit. natasha made you eggs," your brows furrowed. "she left you some vitamins to drink too. said you don't look like the type to drink vitamins."

you were in a haze from waking up so you only sat down and started eating. "you know, i always assumed mr. vision just goes to work early and comes home late before i found out mrs. romanoff was your wife," you said, your mouth stuffed.

mrs. maximoff chuckled, "well," she said with a pause, as if she was trying to reminisce. "we got divorced a long time ago, sweetheart. it's been seven years, i think," she said.

you weren't one to pry but you did anyway, "why?"

mrs. maximoff smiled before she looked down at her hands. that time you knew what she was going to say, "i met natasha," she said. it was a long time before she said anything again. "tony, vision's long time friend introduced natasha to our family. i knew natasha long before i had billy and tommy, but when vision and i got married, we went away, and i just sort of never had any contact with natasha."

you knew where it was going. you knew what happened. and somehow, for a little, you couldn't fathom the thought. "natasha and i got close. she frequents the house, she got closer to the boys while vision was getting more roped into work," she said. she said it so lovingly as if there was absolutely nothing wrong. "i left vision for natasha."

she was having an affair with natasha while being married to vision. it was obvious. or at least she was falling in love with natasha while being married to vision. eitherway, it's wrong. eitherway, it's love.

"was that why you were at the university last week?"

she smiled. "i was there to talk to nat," she said, then she looked down, carrying on the work she didn't realize she paused. "she and i were going through a rough patch, she moved out to cool her head, and i went to get her."

guilt pinched at your chest. you were going to go to mrs. romanoff's class later having known her personal problem, yet you couldn't resist. you wanted to know more. you wanted to know about her so she becomes less than the monster you always thought her to be. "you joke about getting a divorce…," you whispered though you knew it was enough for her to hear.

"i thought we'd have to," she chuckled bitterly. "but who was i kidding? she's the love of my life, how could i possibly survive without natasha?"

she couldn't. you'd come to learn that when you saw her longingly look at her wife every chance she got, as if her very existence were enough to make her feel alive. wanda would give natasha the biggest meat, or the parts of her food she knew natasha liked. she would pack her sandwiches for work, and oftentimes, even drop by the university to have lunch with her.

of course, they could never really have any alone time with you and billy. you all end up eating together, laughing, and making noise inside her office. natasha, who you thought would get mad over the noise, was just calmly sitting through it, occasionally smiling over her family which you'd come to be a part of.

"okay, mama. sit back for our shining grades," billy says, giving you the hardcopy of your report card that's inside a brown envelope.

you saw mrs. romanoff lean further into her chair, her eyes wandering over your faces. you couldn't disguise the nervousness anymore. you were nervous. especially with natasha in front of you. you all knew, in your minds, that natasha is the only one who would ever fail you. so to do this right in front of her, is only to see if she failed you again despite your hardwork. it's like opening a christmas present in front of your intimidating aunt.

you took a deep breath. you could never outlive the awkwardness if she did fail you again, and she's right in front of you to see your reaction. you might just explode.

"okay, babe. let's do it," billy says.

you started in internal count down.

1

2

3

1.6

your eyes widened. that was your lowest grade. and it wasn't from mrs. romanoff.

ENGLISH LITERATURE --- 1.0 BUSINESS ECONOMICS --- 1.0

while billy was busy eyeing your card, you were already looking at natasha who was only returning your gaze with a smug look on her face. it was only until billy gasped and attempted to hug you did you charge towards natasha who quickly stood up to welcome your body in her arms.

your heart exploded with joy. your efforts, the sleepless nights, the overtime, the swallowing the harsh words mrs. romanoff would throw at you when she notice you get distracted.

but most of all, it's finally living outside of mrs. romanoff's radar, it's finally seeing the nice side that billy kept insisting she had. it's having a family, and a boyfriend, and people who loves you. it's having a relationship with all of them, a relationship you'd never give up for the world that made your heart explode all the much more.

you hugged mrs. romanoff, and she stiffed. she didn't hug you back, or move. but you felt her warmth nonetheless, and you smelled the vanilla, and bergamot, and rosewater from her. you kissed her cheek, whispering a thank you for helping me, mrs. romanoff before running off to billy who lifted you and spun you around as you both basked in joy.

you both shared now an above 1.4 average and you can not be happier. you have a family who loves you, a boyfriend who's always been there for you, and good grades. there can be nothing else that you want.

"we're definitely getting good jobs with grades like these," billy says. looking at you, his eyes sparkling.

you giggled. "we're only freshmen, billy."

he leans down. "well, i'm very proud of you regardless," he says kissing you.

mrs. romanoff clears her throat, only then sitting down. "okay. get out now. i have work to do," she says.

you and billy went out with large smiles, occasionally squealing in between sentences as you walked down the hall. you… are now officially stress-free. you got what you want. your hardwork paid off.

you had a few remaining classes, and billy would pick you up from your lecture halls after each one. after your last period, billy took you out. "let's celebrate!" he said.

he took you to your favorite taco place. it wasn't really a date, yet he insisted it was. getting tacos, and going near the beach where food trucks were lined up are something you do on a usual day. but because of the boyfriend-girlfriend title, he insists that everytime you do something fun together, that it's a date.

of course, you were never really one for making the simplest date romantic, but you were never really a "romance" person either. billy was. billy always has been. and you appreciate his ability to find the love in even the simplest things.

you learned to do that because of him. everytime he wraps his jacket around you the moment it gets dark, you know he's doing it out of love. whenever he removes the vegetables from your food because he knows you hate them, you know he's doing it out of love. whenever he opens every door for you, and holds the umbrella a little more towards you, and ties your hair when it's windy, you know he's doing it out of love.

billy taught you to look at the little things.

and so everytime he pulls a chair for you, or puts food on your plate during dinner, or carries your things for you, it reminds you that you did make the right decision. that no one would ever love you as much as he did.

"let me take that," billy says, taking the plate you were holding but you didn't let go.

"listen to him, dear. he doesn't do any chores in this house. at least let him take the plates to the sink," you giggle at mrs. maximoff who was wiping the table.

you looked up, smiling at the way billy's damp hair hung over his forehead. you swept the hair out of his face, holding his cheek for a bit before looking down when you get too deep into his eyes. "you should shower, billy," you smile. "i can take this. you smell like the sea salt."

"listen to her, dear. she's actually smarter than you." billy rolls his eyes at her mother. "oh, i felt that billy!" mrs. maximoff says to which you laugh. she appeared next to you and billy, holding the other three plates you were supposed to come back to. "you should listen to your girlfriend, dear. she's might actually stop you from dying from your impulsive decisions," she says, putting the other plates on top of the ones you were holding. "now, go go. i'm sure y/n can manage," she tapped billy's arm twice, hurrying back to the table murmuring a, "swimming at the beach with your clothes on until night time. what were you thinking."

you smiled, bringing the plates to the kitchen while billy goes up to shower. mrs. romanoff was already there washing the first few dishes you brought earlies. "is that it?" she asks when you set the plates beside her.

"mrs. maximoff, are there any more dishes?" you shout over at the dining area.

"no dear! you brought the last of it," she shouts back.

you smile a bit. there's always that flutter that you feel when you feel the domesticity of it all. you never had this in your own home. and now you do.

"what are you thinking?"

you lifted your head with a "huh?" when you heard mrs. romanoff say something but the small interaction was interrupted when mrs. maximoff enters the kitchen, bringing the cloth she used to wipe the table with to the sink.

"you know, i could never understand why y/n dear won't call me mama," mrs. maximoff says with a huff when she began drying some of the dishes mrs. romanoff finished washing.

"well, i tried once. but with billy being my boyfriend, it just sounds too…," you passed behind the three older women to get to wanda's side and help out by putting away the plates she'd dried. "step-sister," you continue.

"well, maybe you should break up with him then," you hear mrs. romanoff say.

you didn't say anything, but you felt mrs. maximoff elbow her. "or she can just call me whatever she wants," she says to her wife then she looks at you with a smile, "oh, don't you listen to nat. she's just a little protective of her boy," you smiled. "oh let me take that from you dear, we're going to keep that away for the holidays," she took the cup from you before you even realizing, bringing the cups out of the kitchen for a bit.

you looked at mrs. romanoff who just turned of the sink after finishing the dishes, you smiled at her. "don't worry, mrs. romanoff. i won't take--" you stop when you feel her hand on your hips as she passed behind you and she swiftly moves you to the sink and takes your place beside it. you heart skips. she's making you slip again. but you can't, she's billy's mother.

"oh i know you won't take billy from me, dear," she says. "i was worried it might be the other way around."

you hadn't heard what she said because the moment mrs. maximoff came back, you ran off to your room. you were heaving. you clutched your hand against your chest, feeling your raising heart. "oh god," you sighed, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to fall on your bed.

it wasn't your first slip. there's been a couple when you thought of her other than billy's mother. when your hand would brush against her when you pass her a little too closely in the halls, when she'd place a hand on your knee when she's showing you what made your writing wrong in her office, when her hand would settle at a small part of your back as you walk towards billy's car in school. but you can't, she's your professor.

she's your professor.

she's your professor.

she's your professor.

she's your professor.

but you're masturbating to the thought of her.

she's your boyfriend's mother.

but your fucking yourself to the thought of her.

"you were moaning my name, y/n. you came to the thought of me."

no, but she's like a mother to you now.

"you were fucking yourself to the thought of me, not billy's."

your eyes popped open.

you were dreaming again.

except you weren't. you felt her breath against your skin, the ends of the hair that hung on one side of her head were brushing against your cheek, she was on top of you. mrs. romanoff was on top of you. you weren't dreaming.

"god, what are you doing to me…," she says, her eyes meeting yours. she was on her knees, your body in between her legs, and her arm holding her above you. "i can't stop thinking about you, you haunt me… you're making me feel all these things…," the way she whispered made you shiver. the raspiness of her voice was enough to revive the desire you so forcefully pushed down your very core. "i saw you touch yourself, i saw you cum, i heard you scream my name, please…," you feel her other hands softly tracing down your arm until she was able to take hold of your wrist. she used your very hand to tease you. she held your finger tips over the skin of your inner thighs, tracing patterns onto your skin with your hand. "let me see that again."

you heart was about to explode in your chest. but you didn't show her. for the first time in your life, you see mrs. romanoff at the lowest her pride could ever get. she was asking you for something, begging you. you saw the way she breathed against you, the way her eyes looked at yours. she needed you.

your inhibitions disappeared the moment you saw her on top of you. nothing else mattered at that point. you couldn't think of anything else that mattered aside from feeling her.

"say it," you whisper.

"i need you…," she said as a breath of air.

"where's your manners, mrs. romanoff?"

"please, i need you."

you would've done it without the please. but you wanted to push your luck.

the moment your hands met your aching core, your mouth opened. slowly, you started rubbing your clothed bud, teasing yourself with an initially slow pace that increased and decreased whenever you pleased.

you wanted the moment to last. you wanted the ache in her body to be so unbearable, she couldn't wait to fuck you. you didn't let yourself come, instead, you stopped everytime you were about to just to see her eyes darken in the pleasure you keep on taking away from her.

you kept eye contact. she saw every bit of movement your features made, the way your eyebrows stuck together, the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the way your mouth opened and silently moaned.

she'd had enough when your face became smug after disallowing yourself an orgasm again. her eyes were much much darker. it was lustful, and angry, and impatient. your eyes widened in shock when her hand harshly wrapped around your throat to a point where you can barely breath.

"you like teasing mommy, don't you?" she growled. "if you can't give me one, then i guess i'll have to pull it out of you myself."

with one swift movement, she had your ass up, and face down on a pillow near the foot of the bed. she harshly pulled down your pajamas, exposing your smooth cheeks and your hole that hid behind your folds. "you'll have to be quiet, yes?" she says. smoothing over your ass with her palm when a hard slap suddenly lands on it. "i was talking you, wasn't i, dear?"

you whimpered. had she gotten slightly closer she'd feel the heat radiating from your core. because you could feel it. you could feel it and the wetness that dripped from your pussy. "yes…," you whisper.

another slap. "yes what, sweetheart?"

you were panting. you needed to feel her. "yes, mommy."

"good girl," she acknowledges. that sent you over the edge and she hadn't even touched you. the sheer acknowledgement that you were doing good was enough for you to moan. "aww, is my baby horny?"

you hadn't realized you were pushing your ass into her to no prevail of actually feeling her body against you until she held you still.

"just touch me…," you whimper, trying to break free of her hold by pushing further against her but she didn't let you, instead, she only held your hips much much tighter.

"now, who doesn't have manners," she says. you feel her move behind you, "but i'll let it slide this one time," she was talking like mrs. romanoff now. like how she would to you in class, or when she's mad. it made your stomach flip. "you know what, i never thought you'd be the type of girl to fuck your boyfriend's mother, yet here we are."

you grinned, getting out a quip. "you'd be surprised, mrs. romanoff--" you gasped when you felt something cold and hard against your pussy. it was running through your folds; natasha's nails digging through your hips as she controlled just how close your body gets towards her.

"then surprise me, princess," she tells you. it wasn't until you felt something align at the entrance of your pussy that you realized what it was.

"no, no, wait!" you stop her, your hands pushing it way from your entrance. "i'm a virgin," you blurted out.

silence.

for a moment, you feared that you may have ruined the moment. but that disappeared when you felt a kiss on your lower back. "then let's rip the bandaid off now, shall we?"

and then she bottomed up inisde you.

it was like your cunt was tore in half. your face stiffed, mouth opened, and eyes wide; your back arching and your neck almost cracking at how much it stretched back in pain. you couldn't imagine what greater pain it would be if she started moving.

but she didn't. instead, she let you cry into your pillow while you adjust to her size while staying completely still inside you.

you prayed she'd stay like that forever. you didn't want her to move at all. you didn't want to move. it would hurt. you don't want to get hurt. you wanted to stop. but then you feel her press wet kisses along your lower back, her hands were soothing your sides, and then you heard her, "you're doing so great, sweetheart," she whispers. "you're doing so good for me, darling. i promise you it's going to feel so much better. tell me when you want me to move, yeah?"

you took a few deep breaths. for a moment, you thought the butterflies were a call of desire. but no, they weren't. nonetheless, you asked her to move. you want to make her happy. you want to feel good. you want her to make you feel good. you trust her. someone who might have hurt you before won't hurt you now.

"please, move now…," you whimpered, your voice muffled from planting your face deep into the pillow.

"are you sure?"

you take a moment to feel, realizing that you've grown accustomed to the size. that you crave to feel something more now.

"yes," you say surely. "please move in me now, mommy."

you swore you heard her smile.

you feel her move, slowly. you tried to hide your whimpers in pain by pushing your face further into the pillow. "are you okay, dear? do you want me to stop?"

soon, the pain turned into pleasure. the pain wasn't gone, but the pain was what made the pleasure much a lot better.

"well, would you look at that," you could practically hear natasha's smug smile while she watches you bounce on her cock to your own accord, leading with your own rhythm to which she only followed. but she gave you too much control, she ought to take it back. "there's no need for stopping now is there?" she asks before yanking your head back by a fistful of your hair, pulling you so far towards her that you were raised to your knees and your back was completely against her. she wrapped more of your hair around her hand pulling your head further that it was laying on her shoulder. "then how about we go faster?"

your eyes rolled to the back of your head when she started pumping faster, harder, deeper. a hand snaked under your shirt, her palm pressing against your skin, and it was like something had set you alight.

"oh god, i've always wanted to touch you," she whispers in your ear, her lips grazing over your love. "you make me so wet in class, and in my office, i just wanted to take you right where everyone could see you," she squeezed your breasts, fondled with it while pounding into you. and then you felt her hands travel back down. "you would like that, won't you dear? you want everyone to see how much of a slut you are for your mommy."

the moan you let out when her fingers reached your hardened bud was animalistic--so much so that her hand quickly flew over your mouth to cover it. "i told you to be quiet, didn't i?" she says sharply. you felt a something at the very pit of your stomach. you felt something tightening. you were about to see stars, and when she felt your walls tightening around her cock, she slapped your cunt harshly. "don't you dare cum when i'm talking to you," she growled, her pace not once faltering. "mommy asked you a question. don't you think it's rude that you're ignoring her?" you whimpered in her mouth, crying almost at the sever pleasure you're falling, but still graving more. she slapped your cunt again, this time, much much harder. the short moment when her hand landed on your clit was enough to make you moan into her hand. "answer me, slut. or i swear to god you will never get to cum ever again."

she allowed your mouth a little space between her hand so she can hear you. "mommy told me to be quiet. i'm sorry for being loud," you say, closing your eyes, swallowing down the moans that threatened your mouth, but one loud one slipped out.

"are you though?" she asks before her arm wrapped around you body while the other stayed on your mouth. a loud thud came from your room, when she angrily pushed you against your door, fucking her cock into you much deeper than what you thought was possible. "since you're such a whore, let them hear you come."

"oh god mommy, i'm cumming…," you cried.

she turned you around, her cock never leaving your insides. this time, your back was against the door, and your legs were wrapped around her hips. "fuck, keep doing that mommy, please. i'm so close, i'm so close…," you whispered, heaves of air leaving your body.

you closed your eyes, you back arching a little and your head tilting upwards to what the space between you and the door allowed. just right when you were about to plead for more, right at the very brink of finally reaching the stars, she grabbed your jaw. her nails were digging into your skin, and her hold, tight. you opened your eyes, meeting the green ones you never once thought you'd get to see this close, under this circumstance.

"you look at me," she says. "i want to see my little slut come."

and with one final blow, your body convulsed before her; your legs shaking as stars decorated your sight. she let you ride out your high, her hand making in on your mouth the moment it opened when you came.

she coos praises in your ear, soothing over your side until your body fell limp against her. you were panting while she carried you to bed.

and then she left.

she placed you on your bed, your body almost paralyzed, unable to move, and then she left.

she hadn't looked back. she just left closing the door behind her.

shame. there it was again. you hadn't gotten that feeling in a long time. you hadn't really dreamed of her in a long time, no feeling welcomed you in the mornings. but then here it was again. 100x more than it used to be. it ate you up.

the shame wasn't out of the two very special people who you just betrayed after doing what you did. the tears that fell from your eyes weren't from the shame of having acted on the lust you so long felt the mrs. romanoff. the shame was from embarassment. that she left you as if you were nothing. that you allowed her to use you, and violate you the way that she did, and leave you.

how could you allow that for yourself.

the horns natasha romanoff had grew back as you hugged your own body against your bed. and then you cried.

you cried until you hear your door open and by then you didn't really care to look.

"hey… are you okay?" your eyes shot open, hearing a voice you didn't expect to hear. she came back. she was standing beside you, bent over to see you more, and then she rests her hand on your arm. "sweetheart, is everything okay? why are you crying?"

i thought you left me. i thought you only came here to use me, and my body then leave. i thought you weren't going to come back. i thought you just went to get what you wanted. i… i… i…

"hurts."

"aww…," she coos, gently scooping you in her arms and carrying out the door. "well, i prepared a bath for you," she says gently.

you saw the bathroom light open from the gap beneath it's door. she prepared a bath for you. the moment the bathroom door closed behind her, she kissed your forehead. "you did wonderful for me, y/n," she tells you, letting you on your feet for a bit so you can remove your shirt. "i'm so proud of you."

then she carried you again, this time to place you in the warm bath she created for you. "let's wash you up."

you don't think you've ever felt more okay than you did with her now.

[chaxan08]

Two different perceptions of love.

Yelena: *speaking Russian with Nat*

Kate: Oh goodness, Pete—I think I love her!

Natasha: *speaking Russian with Yel*

Wanda: Shut up, you two. I'm trying not to have a breakdown, and you speaking vodka is so fucking distracting!

[atwellfilm]

PEGGY CARTER and NATASHA ROMANOFF

What If...? – Episode 05x2