Natasha Romanoff X You - Tumblr Posts
Pov: Your camera roll if you're besties with Natasha Romanoff
Masterlist
Pov: Your camera roll if you're dating Natasha Romanoff
Masterlist
Pov: You're camera roll if you're dating Natasha Romanoff: part 2
Training with Natasha Romanoff
Illicit Affairs (Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader)
A/N: A new series! I hope this is good enough because I’m still having ideas and it’s quite angsty… somehow. But, either way, I think I’ll enjoy writing this. And there will be a lot of parts, it depends though tbh LMAO but I hope you enjoy it otherwise. <3
Summary: You and she both agreed that it was just a whole “Friends with Benefits” some type of thing until you fall for her. You fall so deep that it hurts you seeing her being in love with someone else.
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Angst; Heavy Smut; Cursing; basically it’s (18+)
Spotify Playlist for this series
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
So on….
I NEED NEW FICS IM GONNA CRRRRYYYYYYYYA
N.R. Master-list
Fluff: ~ Angst: !
I do not give anyone permission to repost, plagiarize, or take credit for my original work. If you see this anywhere please let me know. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated :) Men DNI
Let the light in pt. 1 pt. 2
Mom!Natasha series
Meet Cute series
Runaway Bride
Just let me in
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader, Sharon Carter x Fem!reader
A/N: Pt. 2 of Let The Light In
Warnings: Angst, fluff, more angst, kissing, arguments, ANGST
Song: Let The Light In- Lana Del Rey
Her car hummed to a start, sputtering and coughing before taking off down the long road to San Francisco- 42 hours to be exact. The city seemed emptier without her, the familiar sights of San Francisco now tainted with bittersweet memories of what used to be. Nat was too homesick to eat, drink, even sleep. But she wasn’t homesick for San Francisco, or the minimalistic home she rented in Washington - she was homesick for you. Almost two days later she was standing at your front door in the pouring rain, shaking and shivering. This was also the last moment she could imagine what your reaction would be, before reality hit her.
Observant eyes noticed all the new changes to the home, brighter and prettier without Natasha in it. And she saw a new car in the driveway, shiny and classic. Not your style at all.
Meanwhile, you were inside cooking a warm meal for the pretty agent, Sharon, if you remembered correctly, that was sitting on your couch. She was a beautiful blonde in a form fitting black dress with nude heels, and some files waiting to go over with you. You both were adults, and you knew this was more than just a debrief when she brought wine and red lipstick that would look better on your lips. Sharon was different from Nat, just as confident, but soft- warm…maybe kind was the word you were looking for. You missed that.
It'd been nearly a year since Natasha left. The memory of that night still haunts you—the door slamming, her duffle bag slung over her shoulder, the way she couldn't even look at you as she walked away. The way you cried and begged her to change for months, asked her to stay for you. Asked why you weren’t enough. That was the night you heard one of the most painful words echo from the woman that had your heart in her hands, “Sometimes you just aren’t enough. Maybe you never were, Y/N.” And in that moment you knew you had to let her go. Months were spent wondering what you did wrong, how things had unraveled so quickly after what you thought was a strong, loving relationship.
But time heals all wounds, as they say. Slowly, you started to move on. Friends encouraged you to get back out there, to rediscover yourself, and eventually, you took Sharon up on her offer for a “debrief.” The aroma of the lasagna you've prepared fills the air, mingling with the faint sound of jazz playing in the background. You laugh together, eat, and hardly remember the files sitting untouched in the coffee table.
Outside, hidden by the shadows of the night, Natasha sat on your front doorstep, waiting for you to open the door, or to gather the courage to knock. As the Black Widow stood at the door, fist raised, ready to knock, something stops her. Through the window, she catches sight of you.
You look radiant, a soft smile on your face as you pour a glass of wine for Sharon. Maybe her first, maybe her third. You two had lost count. The warmth of your home, the way you look at the beautiful blonde with your bright eyes crinkling at the ends, laughing till a tear rolled down your cheek—it hits Natasha like a punch to the gut. And some sick, punishing part of herself can't tear her big green eyes away from the scene, the sight of you happy and moving on. Nothing like the turmoil she's been living in.
Her heart aches as she watches you lean closer to Sharon, your laughter reaching her ears even from outside. And at that moment, Natasha, once affectionately called “Natty,” knows she has no right to disrupt your happiness. As Sharon leans in to kiss you, you catch a glimpse of movement outside the window. For a brief second, you think you see someone familiar, like that familiar head of red hair that could bring you to your knees. But then it's gone. You shake your head, dismissing it as a trick of the light or your mind playing games. Tonight, you're happy, and that’s all you need.
Natasha drives away, the city lights blurring into streaks as tears well up in her eyes.
When soft, warm morning light hits you the next morning and the weight of Sharon’s arm is wrapped around your bare waist, you feel good. Really good. Finally. As you make the pretty blonde asleep in your bed a fresh cup of coffee and open your front door to get the mail, you see a wet bouquet of flowers on the floor.
A simple note attached reads, “Did I lose you forever?”
Meet cute
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
Warnings: nerves, money troubles, female reader, popular girls? A/N: In works to be a series, more parts soon! “I love you…but I will never stop hating you,” you practically whispered out the last line. The small phone booth you were in smelled like cigarettes and dust. You heard her breath on the other line, shakey. She said nothing. The endless rain created a waterfall on the glass windows, making your wife, Jamie, look like a blur of colors on the other side of the road, standing there with your two children. That was the last time you ever spoke to her.
1954-Junior Year- NYC
The first time you ever talked to Natasha was on the first day of Junior Year at Manhattan School for the Gifted. It was one of the most prestigious highschools in New York City and only few above a certain IQ were accepted. You were lucky enough to be above that IQ and be riding on a scholarship. You’d always seen her around the halls, classy, preppy, talking with her friends or teasing the poor boys that drooled over her (they didn’t stand a chance). Everyone knew her family, the Romanoffs, and her father, the head chief of the NYPD. To be frank, your opinion of her was nothing short of the rumors you’d been told- Natasha Romanoff was a rich bitch that only got into this school because of money. You know what they say, money makes the world go ‘round. So it shocked you when she gently tapped you on the shoulder as you were putting your books away in your locker, “Y/N right? I’m your locker buddy.”
“Yeah, Y/N L/N. Pleased to meet you,” you felt weird about shaking her hand but there it was, awkwardly waiting for hers to shake back. Being forced to look at her also made you realize what pretty eyes she had, as if someone took the greenest pieces of the forest and made them into her soft orbs.
She gently swatted your hand away, laughed, and pulled you into a soft hug, “I’m a hugger, silly.” The innocence of it genuinely touched you, and an unfamiliar feeling sprouted in your chest. That first day of Junior year, for whatever odd reason, she followed you around to break, lunch, and even got on the same bus as you after school, the fabric of her soft skirt rubbing up against your leg the entire ride home. As sweet as she was, the tension in the air was thick as you both knew her hanging around you was nothing short of unnatural.
Yes, you were beautiful in your own right with big e/c eyes and soft skin, bouncy hair and sharp intelligence, and you could easily fit in with someone like Natasha- but your friend group wasn’t exactly popular. You were all working class girls who had to catch a job after school, instead of hang around the popular spots like some of the other kids in your grade. The girls that were able to hang out at the vinyl shop or at Joe’s burger spot didn’t let the difference between you and them go unnoticed- and most of those girls were Natasha’s friends.
Natasha rode your subway all the way to Brooklyn, where you worked at the corner bodega, your parents shop. Right before she followed you in, you turned around, “Uhm- sorry, Natasha. It’s not that I don’t want to be friends and all, but you’ve followed me a whole 45 minutes to my job just because?” You saw the way she bit her lip and hugged her played with her hair out of nervousness, “Well, I mean I do want to be friends, of course…but I also heard you were pretty good in the STEM area. Look, Mr. Stark has a project for us that he’s going to show at our end of the year fair and I don’t know shit about robotics. I was thinking…maybe you could help?” She looked at you with doe eyes and a little smirk after her rather colorful language that told you maybe there was more to this girl. Maybe. The way she talked to you was different too, not necessarily just friendly- and anything but cold. You shifted your weight to lean against the wall, contemplating her words. A part of you wanted to say no, but she slowly pulled a small little envelope out of her book bag. Your heart leaped at the thought of it being what you wanted most…cold, hard, cash. Cash that your family really needed.
“This is just a starting amount, is $85 a week okay? You could come over to my house maybe twice a week for a few hours and we can work on it.” “I’ll start Monday.”
Later that night, as you tied your hair into rollers and tucked yourself into your cozy bed, Natasha lied awake in bed as she thought about your interaction. Her mind replayed your smile, nervous laughter, and the way you made your friends laugh so hard at lunch that they cried. She wished she enjoyed her friends that much. Each time her eyes closed, your face popped up in her mind. The redhead started retracing your features like a picture. What was wrong with her? A warm feeling blossomed in the pit of her stomach, slowly working its way up to her chest- but she stopped it. Not again. Natasha Romanoff is completely normal, completely perfect…and completely straight.
Runaway Bride
Summary: There’s only one person you really want on your wedding day
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Weddings, love, crying, running away, lots of angst
Song: Someday I’ll get it by Alek Olsen
You were out of breath by the time you got there, crisp cold air hurting your chest. Your throat was as dry as sandpaper. Natasha was there, waiting for you like she always was. Your legs were tired from running, broken nude heels in your hands, beautiful and forgotten. The white flowy, soft fabric of your dress touched your body delicately, dragging and picking up the color from the wet mossy grass. Sore legs lowered down to sit on the grass next to the girl who once captured your heart…but she was silent. Just you two, alone. The air was so cold it hurt your bones.
You rested your head against the large oak tree that sat behind you two, making a little cove under its branches. So many thoughts were racing through your mind, “I’ve ruined everything. What will people think? I have to say sorry.” But once you saw your favorite spot waiting for you, with your favorite girl, everything melted away. You shouldn’t even be here right now, you shouldn’t have been thinking about Natasha, but she was the only person that ran through your mind.
“Long time no see, Natty.”
You’ve gotten used to her silence though, it kind of became her new character trait these days. Sometimes you pretended it didn’t hurt anymore, but it always did. A little more each time. Rain droplets started to fall around you, wetting every inch of dirt and stone. More green from the grass started to slowly seep into the beautiful white fabric of your dress. You knew her deep gaze was on you, looking at you with pity…maybe with love?
Your chest tightened as you blinked hard, vision blurring, “I was supposed to get married today, you know,” a sad laugh escaped your throat as you played with the fabric of your dress, “I looked beautiful. My hair was done and my makeup was perfect and-I was supposed to be happy today,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I was supposed to be standing at that altar, looking into her eyes, promising forever. But I couldn’t even say the words. Because every time I looked at her, I saw you. And I hated myself for it.”
“I’m so tired of missing you. Some strange part of me thought getting married would make me happier. But all I see is you. When I say my vows, it’s your name they’re written for.”
I think of you all the time, now that you’re gone.
The rain poured down in relentless sheets, soaking through the dress. The sky above was a swirling mass of dark clouds and angry wind. Digging your manicured fingers into the soft mud, it felt like the only grounding thing. The feeling of mud seeping under your nails was the only anchor you had.
You checked your phone, trying to wipe the rain off of it and realized that you’d already been there for over an hour with Natasha. You needed to get back, answer all the missed calls and texts. This would be the last time you two saw each other…something inside you was certain about it. Shaky legs stood up, using the big oak tree as support and grabbing the bouquet you forgot about next to you.
You slowly kneeled down in front of your first love, first everything, and pressed your forehead against her cold grave stone, “If love could have saved you,” breaths came in short, sharp gasps, salty tears falling into your mouth, “you would have lived forever, my Natasha.” Soft lips kissed the engraving of her name as you gently lied the bouquet down for her, grabbed your broken heels, and said goodbye. It took all your strength to not look back as you walked out of the private cemetery.
Wish You Well
Inspired by Song of the day
Pairing: Natasha x Fem!Reader
Words: 252
Warnings: Endgame spoilers!!
~
You reminisced about her eyelashes, so luscious and long. They would stand up just right, the bold black they presented made them even more impressive. You remembered the first time the both of you met, you asked where she got her lashes done then stood in shock when she claimed they were her own.
What a great first impression.
You felt her ghosted lips on yours, craving the feeling again. You’d imagined them meeting yours for so long. But you couldn’t help it, her lips were just the right shade of pink. Not to mention, they were so full and tasted like candy.
Now, every time you ate cotton candy, you thought of her. Her, and her outstanding eyes, the same green optics that reminded you of a cat. Then, you thought of her cat-like reflexes. How fast and sneaky she was. And how amazing she looked in that tight, midnight black super suit of hers.
She had these fantastic red bunches of hair that would frame her face oh so perfectly.
Gosh, how you wondered what she could be up to at that moment. Her perfect face surrounded by her ideal hair. Because the last time you saw her eyes, they were glossy. Her eyelashes had been coated with her tears. Her lips had peanut butter sandwich crumbs.
You queried how long this minute would be. Because you couldn’t stand waiting another second of hoping. Hoping that she was alright where she was…
Wishing she was well up in the clouds.
Natasha: I can't believe this.
Y/N: believe what?
Natasha: that you'd do this to me,,
Y/N: what did I do-
Natasha: YOU'RE MAKING YOURSELF LOOK CUTE AGAIN, I'M TOO GAY FOR THIS
Natasha: [sees a dog]
Natasha: [high-pitched Russian babbling]
Screw The Pancakes
Imagine: Waking up next to your wife, Natasha
~
"Mommy!"
The little voice pulled you out a slumber.
"Mommy!!"
This time louder and more impatient. Looking through your eyelashes, you could zero in on a little girl who seemed to be a spitting image of both you and your wife.
"Mom!"
This time now fully awake, you quickly snatched your daughter from the ground, lifting her over you. Her giggles filled the air while someone grunted next to you.
"What are you doing up, little missy?" You teased, planting sloppy kisses over her face. "It's pancake day!" She shouted, Saturdays were always pancake days.
You heard a soft groan from your left side, it belonged to your wife. The one and only Natalia Alianovna, your wife.
Putting a finger to your lips, you and your daughter watched as Tasha snuggled into your side, trying to nuzzle her head between your stomach.
Your daughter leant down carefully. "Mama?" She whispered softly, moving a bit of your wife's gorgeous red hair from her face. "Mom?" She asked again, this time tilting her head.
"How about you go downstairs and get out a bowl while I wake up your mother?" You pulled yourself up a little bit, lifting your little girl off your lap and back on the ground.
"Loki Doki!" She nodded enthusiastically, clearly excited about pancake day.
Once you watched her leave the room, you turned over to face the sleeping beauty. "Hey, Tasha, it's wakey time," you smile at her, caressing her cheeks lightly.
A small whine escaped her lips as you softly woke her to sobriety. "It's pancake day," You pushed your limits with the assassin, chuckling like your daughter had.
"Screw the pancakes." Your chuckle soon turned into a full laugh at the grumpy widow's morning bedside manner.
"Shut up," Natasha grumbled into the pillow, "You're too loud." You snatched her comfort pillow and watched as she groaned some more.
"Wake up, your daughter wants pancakes." You smirked at the mess of red hair in the black tank top snarled at you.
"Screw the pancakes…" She whispered once more before forcefully throwing her face into the mattress.
Note to self: It's impossible to wake up Tasha before 8 o'clock.
this was so hot
criminal.
you met a woman from a penpal website and began to form a relationship with her, until you suddenly got comfortable with her and began to share fantasies that she had also dreamt of.
pairings | prisoner!dark!natasha x fem!reader
warnings | 18+ MINORS DNI! online talking, prisoner!natasha, dirty talking (online), rough sex on the couch, strap-on (used), pet names, dark!natasha, and daddy kink.
word count | 3.5k
notes | this was anon requested and i hope this satisfies you, nonnon! i’m so sorry if it’s too late :( i am doing my best to get all of your requests. enjoy though!
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I LOVE THIS
Pernicious Prospect
Summary: Playing a little game to seal the fate of your life is only fun when you play it with a spider.
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Word Count: 5.6k ish
Warnings: Dark!Natasha, dark fic!!!!!, drugging (nat's serum), intense gun play (Russian Roulette), alcohol (and making bad decisions drunk), slight inspection kink, faux drowning..? kinda?, Nat is mean but also sweet. Toxic Nat. degradation, slight size kink if you squint, lots of names, hostage vibes?, stalking vibes, technically Stockholm syndrome too
*As usual let me know if I missed anything important*
***MINORS DNI*** ***18+***
A/N: This got a lot longer than it was supposed to be lol BUT look i wrote a dark fic without blood :O im just as surprised as you ALSO ignore any mistakes I made in this :) We ALSO dont talk about the hellsite not posting this yesterday :)
Main Master list // Kitmoas | Occult
You weren’t aware of the deep forest eyes watching as you danced with your friends in the club, a few drinks in and no show of stopping anytime soon. The group had no idea when everyone would go home, a Friday night after a huge test meant everyone wanted to party until they couldn’t remember their names.Someone knew when you were going home, had your entire night planned down to how many drinks you would be having. Not once did they let you out of their sight, after months of observation and planning everything was ready.
The anxiety and stress that you felt the past few weeks was melting out of your brain as you downed more and more shots. Stumbling towards the bar you yell over the music asking for another drink, but the man just shakes his head before walking away. Whipping around to try and find your friends, jumping when you come face to face with the ginger. In your intoxicated state it takes your brain far longer than you would normally would have to recognize who was standing in front of you, but when you finally do your jaw drops. “Oh m’gosh! You’re ‘lack widow!”
The woman in front of you cringes internally at your slurred speech, cursing herself for letting you drink so much, but she smiles softly at you regardless. “I am, sweetie. Are you okay? You seem far too drunk to be left alone.” You stumble forward just on time, cursing yourself at your clumsiness in front of the Avenger. “Let me accompany you home? I can drive so you don’t have to walk.” She watches as you melt just from her simple words, smug at how quickly you agree.
You watch with wide delighted eyes as Natasha pays off your entire tab, making sure you pocket your credit card. She also quickly helps clean up any mess that you created, letting each one of your friends know that she would be escorting you home. Tipping not only each bartender, but each bouncer, as she tied up any loose ends that you may be leaving behind. Lastly she even had you use the bathroom before you left, holding your bag as she waited patiently outside the door after checking that you would have the entire bathroom to yourself.
She easily guides you outside, her strength coming into play each time you stumble or sway too much. You’re talking loudly, asking her what car is hers but she just stays silent; nodding politely at people as you pass them. Basically swooning when she opens your door for you, you giggle as you crumble in the passenger seat of her Stingray.
It doesn’t take much time for you to be excitedly climbing all over, leaning heavily against the dashboard with your face squished against the windshield. Mumbling out slurred directions, you try your hardest to direct the ginger on where to go to get to your house but unbeknownst to you she had every single route from the bar possible memorized. Playing along with your excitement each time you saw a landmark you recognized, she bathed you in praise and relished in each happy wiggle she got in return.
Even though she drove at an exceptionally slow pace, an attempt to keep you safe as you clambered around the car, she felt as though the two of you arrived at your apartment all too quickly. Pulling up in front of your building, she makes sure the coast is clear before walking around the car to open your door for you. You stare up at her, admiring her face as the moon and street lights illuminate her.
Stumbling as she drags you out of the car, “C-come inside please just for little yknow.” You tangle your fingers in her flowy shirt, humming in appreciation at the soft fabric. “Please…just at least to help?” You’re unsure of where this clinginess came from, the need to act cool in front of her slowly disappearing at the idea of the widow leaving your life just as quickly as she entered.
Natasha acts naive, innocent even, as she humbly agrees to make sure you get in bed with water and ibuprofen. Her devious smirk only appears once your focus is on the door, fumbling to unlock it. Her steady hand lands on yours, her warm body pressing against your back. Entirely too buzzed you don’t question how she knows your intricate passcode, instead giddy as you drag her into your home. Spinning to show her everything, slurred rambling as you point things out.
She nods along, mindlessly listening to random facts about trinkets she already knows about, as she moves around your kitchen. Getting you a Gatorade, not water knowing you won’t drink it, and a snack she sighs as she looks around for your medicine. “Do you think you can find your pain meds by yourself drunkie, or will that be too much for your fuzzy little brain?” Watching you salute, taking your given job extremely seriously, the ginger smirks as she cracks open the capsule from her bracelet into your drink.
By the time you come back, tripping over your own feet, triumphantly holding a bottle of pills above your head Natasha had already set the food by your bed and gotten you pajamas. Before she can stop you, you’re stripping at the excited idea of wearing something she wants to see you in. “Than’u it’s sooooo comfy!” Flopping onto the bed, you roll around as you look up ar her. She’s watching you, careful eyes, as she waits for you to calm down.
Reaching out to hold your hand, she pulls you into a sitting position gently. A smile on her face as she brings the tray of food and drinks over, “Do me a favor, dove, just get a little bit of something in your stomach? For me?”
The way she’s looking at you will forever be engraved in your mind, something you would never be able to deny. You can’t even attempt to fight her, gobbling up the pretzel sticks and downing the gatorade greedily. You preen under her attention, wiggling at the small achievement of earning her momentary praise. Quieting down as you settle in bed, head nestled in the pillows as your attention turns to the quiet television show she turned on.
You’re blissfully unaware of how she watches you, sharp eyes waiting for a flash of cherry red haze. It only takes a few moments, blinking as if you have something in your eyes before you have an urge to be near her. Natasha is sitting at the edge of the bed, a normally respectable distance but you need her closer and that is starting to scare you.
It doesn't take long for the widow to realize you’re squirming, a distressed look on your face, and she knows that you truly are the perfect little experiment for her own serum. Her rough calloused hand slips across your jaw, turning your head back and forth before it closes around your throat. Inspection of you doesn’t take long, your mind clearing from its initial hit of serum all too quickly for Natasha.
Once your eyes do clear, and you’re able to ignore the way your pussy throbs and your muscles shake, the widow can see the anger rising. She watches the way your body tenses, and she knows your fight or flight is kicking in. Even though she’s expecting it, the way you flail about surprises her. Your fist only an inch or two away from her face, you keep trying to strike her but it’s almost as though she’s inside an invisible box. Hitting the unseen wall over and over again, you stare in shock at your own hand.
You try pulling it back, gently pushing your palm forward but you are able to cup her cheek. Stuttering, you want to ask what is going on but the words are lost in your throat. Gasping you try to breathe as you can feel the panic filling your body, something was weird and you knew that it had to be some sort of Avenger science or maybe something from Russia. This was all too much and your favorite hero was suddenly turning into a dark shadow that would loom over you for the rest of your life.
Before you can even try to escape, still on your back, as an electroshock travels through your body radiating from the small red electric disk now stuck on your body. Paralyzing, you can feel the energy swarming through your body and the scream that rips from your throat is shrill. She’s moving your body, manipulating it as she wants and for some unknown reason you just let her.
Spread out on the bed, you try your hardest to figure out a way to escape. This was your room, your home, and you still felt trapped. You’re unsure of what she did to you but you feel sluggish and it’s almost like you can’t move as she walks away. The widow is only gone momentarily but the moment she settles back on the bed, your heart beat seemingly settles down.
Natasha reaches for you, rough hands running up your thighs as she watches your abs tense from her touch. “You know, you were so cute and just so excited to put on the clothes I wanted.” She pulls at the flimsy crop top and skin tight booty shorts, chuckling at just how naive you are. “It was so easy to get you right where I want you, it’s almost pathetic. Almost too easy.” Her hands are ghosting between your legs, running her nails along the most sensitive parts of your lower body.
The tearing of your shorts doesn’t surprise you, your brain working overtime to attempt to be one step ahead of what was happening. If you could come to terms with it, maybe you could find the strength to fight it. You curse your body for reacting to the way she touches you, knowing that your crush on her doesn’t help, when her fingers touch your uncovered pussy. She can see the wetness shining in the dim lighting, and she uses her thumb to smear the slick. “If you really wanted me to stop, don’t you think you would be just a little less wet?”
Her hands are everywhere, pulling at your nipples and scratching down your torso. You want to keep your eyes open to try and stay alert but you can’t help when they slip closed. It shouldn’t come as much of a surprise when you feel your fingers probing you, poking and pulling you open. She’s inspecting you again, silently. It shouldn’t make an intense wave of arousal hit you, but you know she sees the wetness gush out of you as she opens you up.
The ginger makes an appreciative noise, deep in her throat before she begins to push 2 fingers into you. She grunts when she meets resistance, you're wet but still tight. Ignoring the way you squirm away, trying to kick and claw at her hand, Natasha just moves her fingers faster. Occasionally letting her thumb rub at your clit, hard and throbbing. It isn’t long until she notices the changes.
No matter how hard you want to say you hate the way her long rough fingers move inside you, you can’t deny how close you are. It’s embarrassing but after months, almost years, of crushing on the infamous Black Widow how could you not react so easily to her. You had yearned for someone to treat you roughly, to take you and use your body as they pleased, but you never had found someone that wasn’t too scared to do it.
Even as you realized each step she was going to make, you weren’t finding the strength to truly fight it. If anything you were finding ways to excuse her, to let yourself fall into her web. Your body was already cracking under the pressure, arousal leaking down your thighs and into the sheets below you. It was only a matter of time before your brain fully caught up, you knew that you didn’t have the mental strength to go up against someone so highly trained like the Black Widow.
Your body was getting used to the force that Natasha was shoving her fingers into you, creeping towards the edge. The way your body’s temperature rose slowly signified the steady build of your orgasm. Reduced to just quiet pants and moans, you wanted to beg the widow to move faster–to take what she wanted.
Unbeknownst to you, you never had to ask or tell the ginger to take what she wanted from you. You were naive and innocent to what she had infected your body with. From this moment on you would be hers, to do whatever she could imagine doing to you. She was being generous by stretching your body, stretching her pussy.
Ownership was something the Russian always struggled with, after years of never truly having something of her own, but when she saw you she knew that no one else would ever touch you. Months of planning and creating the perfect serum, all so that you would be laid out underneath her. All so that she could finally own something all by herself, her favorite thing–you.
Your moans and the warmth in your stomach were driving you crazy, it felt like she wouldn’t just shove you over the edge. Straddling the line between ecstasy and torture, you let your mouth fall open. Jaw cracking as you mewl, begging to be touched with more purpose.
Through hooded eyes you see your jade counterpart’s roll, an annoyed grunt breaking through barred teeth. “Such a needy little thing even after fighting me. Have you learned your lesson yet?” Her question goes unanswered when she pulls her fingers out, tucking the last two in. She’s enchanted as she watches your leaking red pussy open up, stretching to take four of her digits.
It isn’t gentle, and she’s shoving them inside you, but it’s enough to make you topple over the edge. Your back arching, and a scream tearing through your throat. It isn’t exactly the most pleasurable orgasm, entirely too mixed with intense waves of pain. It’s short lived, the widow yanking her fingers out of you and leaving you clenching around nothing. Your slick dribbling slowly out of you and coating your thighs even more. She leaves you a sticky mess as she stands, wiping the wetness from her hand on your heaving stomach.
As you’re still trying to recover, Natasha starts moving you. Chastising you when you begin to whine, pulling and pushing you so you’re on your knees. Her touch is almost gentle as she guides you into the position she wants. Your face is pushed into the bed, drool soaking the fabric as you try to breathe. Something settles along your torso, possibly her own body, but you’re overstimulated and your senses can’t make sense of anything.
You hear metal clanking rapidly, almost high pitched, and it makes your blood run cold. Ragged breathing as you try to bring air to your lungs with your face is pushed into the warm damp sheets. The pressure between your shoulder blades and along your hips keeps in place, even as your muscles twitch as the anxiety builds. The sound was familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it.
A cool heavy steel trails along your ribs, tapping teasingly against each bone. “You wanna play a game, malysh?” She mocks you, seemingly giving you a choice. Her hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head up. The shiny revolver obstructs your blurry vision as you gulp down as much oxygen as possible, as quickly as possible. “You know where I come from, don’t you красивая девушка?”
The stickiness of her bright wine colored lipstick pulls at the thin skin along your ear, leaving remencance of the stain. You can feel the exhaustion in your bones, the ginger’s actions of the night catching up already. Nodding, you can’t even bring yourself to say anything. She’s humming, prompting you. “I-I know a lot ab-bout you.” Voice hoarse, stuttering and falling over syllables, you try your hardest to listen to her.
She laughs, it’s silent but shakes her chest as she leans heavily against you. Tapping the barrel of the gun against your cheek, “Right my precious little fan. You know all about me. Well don’t worry darling, all that precious information stored in your brain will come in handy.” The widow shoves you forward, pulling and pushing your body as she flips you onto you back.
Natasha settles comfortably between your legs, swinging the fun around her pointer finger as she coos over you. She sits back and observes you, head tilting as you squirm below her. Running your thumb along your dripping slit, she can’t help but admire the string of wetness that catches and dangles as she pulls away.
You try to shake your head, no matter her experience you didn’t want to shamelessly gamble your life for a night with the spy. She just giggles, like a schoolgirl. “All you have to do is tell me what you know about me, lyubov'. That’s all. I know that pretty little head is filled with who I am and all the little facts you know about me, so this should be simple. Say a fact and you’re safe, and get played with. Say something false, and I pull the trigger. Who knows though, maybe you’ll enjoy that too.” She looks so innocent as she talks down to you, but you can’t focus on her tone right now.
Chest heaving, you watch her with wide eyes as the previously forgotten fear reignites as the older woman precariously plays with the gun. A sadistic grin stretches her face, pulling her cheeks just a bit too much. “Dontcha wanna play with me, detka?” Tapping the bottom of the grip on your lower belly, Natasha smirks. Your head is shaking vigorously, pathetic whimpers tumbling from your mouth. Your fist swings out again, a pitiful attempt at hitting the ginger one last time. Struggling as your hand hits that invisible wall again, she just slowly lowers it down to the bed. “Too bad you don’t have a choice.”
Her calloused thumb swipes at your throbbing clit, smiling as your hips jump trying to chase after the spark of pleasure. She shushes you, smoothing her hand across your lower belly. Her gaze flickers up to watch your reactions, jade peaking through lashes as she taps the muzzle against your puffy red cunt. Natasha makes a noise, your only chance at a warning before she’s shoving the barrel of her gun into you. Watching you stretch, raw and red, around the cold smooth metal she has to bite her lip to suppress her own reactions.
The moan that tumbles from your lips is involuntary, and the sounds only get worse as she forcibly ruts her beloved weapon into you. “First fact, princess.” When you just wither beneath her, too focused on your own arousal, she cocks the gun. The click ringing out, a stark contrast to your mewls. “Don’t keep me waiting, dove. It’s rude and my patience wears thin.”
You stutter through the first couple facts, all things the public knows of. The most common facts that cannot be disputable; her alias, her training and community upbringing, and her status within the government as an Avenger. It wasn’t until she rubs your clit, dragging the wetness across your skin, that your mind swirls again. Broken gasps you mumble out, “You killed the overseer of the Red Room”.
The ginger laughs, a short gleeful thing, as she shakes her head. “Poor baby, your head is already so foggy and the game has just begun.” You hear the menacing sound of the gun click, stalling, as she pulls the trigger for the first time. Even as the fear rings through your skull, sinking into your bones, you can’t help but the wetness that drips out of you and the way you clench around the slowly warming steel. A breathy please falls from your lips, and you aren’t exactly sure what you’re pleading for.
A second wrong fact tumbles from your lips, jumbled and almost incomprehensible, as you beg the widow for mercy. Nothing you say deters her, even as you correct your previous statement. You knew that she didn’t go to kill Tony, just to see if he was dying but in your haze you said the wrong thing. Apologies and sobs wracking your body as you try to take back your mistake, but she’s pulling the trigger before you can stop her. Your hands are gripping your wrist but your fingers won’t move no matter how much you try to claw at her skin, a measly attempt to pry her away from you.
Natasha shoves the barrel roughly into you, a piercing pain shoots through your body as she mumbles for you to continue. Her eyes trained at your body, it’s almost like this is mindless for her not even breaking a sweat. It’s almost like she’s angry at the fact that the bullet and chamber have yet to align. “You w-wear the arr-ow for Cl-lint.” Stuttered though true, your fact makes her chuckle. The green eyed woman just thrusts into you harder, dragging you closer to the edge.
Through hooded eyes you watch her, eyes flickering back and forth between the way her bicep tenses and how the vein in her neck pulses. Distracted you stutter on your next fact, “Y-y um dance um ta–”. Even though you never finish your sentence, the sight of the gun rubbing against the most sensitive part inside of you, the assassin knows you were going to mess up. The longer she’s moving inside you, the harder you find talking and thinking. It terrifies you how much you like the feeling of the steel inside you, how you drip around the cylinder.
The coil in your stomach cracks when you hear the widow cock the gun, body twitching when she pulls the trigger again. She has you dangling over the edge, almost like you were on a string. Dragging her nails down your thigh, leaving bright red streaks and a burning sensation. Her actions are almost teasing, toying with you as you squirm and moan under her.
Natasha’s voice is soft, almost comforting, as she stares down at you. Her eyes almost soft, nurturing, as she fucks her gun into your sore cunt. “Such a desperate little whore, I can barely move my gun from how tight you are.” Reaching up to cup your breast, she pinches your hardened nipple ruthlessly. Tugging at it until your back arches, trying to relieve some of the pain.
It’s a spreading warmth, stinging, as the redness explodes across the goosebump covered swell. Your brain can’t keep up, swirls of pain and arousal clouding all your thoughts. “Give me another one, now.” Hissing, her voice strikes in your bones. A shiver running down your spine as you try to keep your orgasm at bay. A small part of you still wanted to be defiant, to try and fight in the only way you can. You knew you couldn’t physically do anything to hurt her, but you could take hits at her ego.
The longer you delay the inevitable, whimpers and whines filling the air as you focus solely on the pleasure, the angrier the ginger gets. She’s jamming the gun harder into you, her muscles flexing with each push. Forcing your breath and your heart beat to stutter, jumping along with the force of her ruts. “Play my game, you worthless whore. Play or I’ll play without you.” Wrapping her hand around your throat, she hovers over you.
Her weight is almost completely on your neck as she looks down at you. You babble panickedly, wheezing as you try to fight for your life. Unsure of the words you even say, you thrash violently at the clicking of the gun. Legs flailing, kicking helplessly at air, as your body goes into full fight or flight mode. Throat raw as you scream, the shrill sound cut short as Natasha slams you down.
“No matter how much you fight, princess, you can’t deny the way you're teetering. Barely clinging to the edge. You’re not going to last much longer, so why must you fight me?” Clenching, each word she speaks to you wears the rope you’re hanging from thin and dropping you farther and farther over the edge. She pulls the trigger again, pulling the hammer down immediately to pull the trigger once more. “Looks like you only have one more chance, little dove.”
Your entire body is shaking, and you can barely understand a word she says. The overwhelming weight of the barrel inside of you is the only thing you can focus on, the pull of the smooth metal as it thrusts. It’s no longer cool, your temperature heating it up. Whining you try to get her to understand your frustration, the way she’s clouding your judgment and stripping you of your ability to coherently speak.
It doesn’t matter anymore as the rope falls apart and you slip over the edge. She struggles to keep the barrel inside of you, the force of your orgasm not only shaking your entire body but the gush of wetness escaping you is even stronger. The way she moves doesn’t slow, if anything she puts her entire body into how she jams the firearm into you. Her fingers grip your jaw, clawing until your mouth falls open. Your moans are garbled, drool and spit filling your mouth unable to escape except for a few drops leaking down your flushed cheek.
The ginger pulls the gun from your leaking cunt, pulling your body to let your center lay flush against her thigh. Your hips are grinding before she can even demand you to move, chasing the high that you’re on. Natasha leans back, rolling her eyes as she watches you hump her leg. “You’re fucking disgusting.” Wiping her gun along your torso, your slick is cool against your heated skin. You’re entirely too lost in your pleasure, heavy eyes blurry as they try to watch the woman above you.
It’s the exact moment that your body finally settles, muscles gently vibrating with the aftershocks of your waning orgasm, that you see the widow’s arms move quickly. Cocking the gun you can see up the sight just for a moment, before she pulls the trigger. The bullet is loud as it pierces the mattress next to your head, fluff and fabric exploding. It makes the blood in your veins run cold and the high you were on plummet back down to Earth.
Fuzzy brain, clearing slowly, you stare wide eyed up at Natasha. “Y-You were actually going to shoot me?” You can’t stop stuttering, gasping, as you realize how close to death you truly were. The shaking is back with a vengeance, almost like your entire body is plugged in. This entire time you believed that it was all just a game, a thing for the Avenger to scare you with so that you would be more open to having sex with her.
The Avenger smiles, cupping your cheek and smoothing her thumb over the flush she finds there. She licks the cooling metal, humming at the taste she finds there before letting the gun fall heavy on the sheets. “And yet, my darling, your body is still shaking and aching for my touch.” When your hips try to move against her body, she shakes head. “Nuh uh, you’re done for the day. I can’t push you too much.” She’s shifting to sit next to your collapsed body, ignoring the pathetic whimpering falling uncontrollably from your mouth.
You are struggling to breathe properly, heavy pants filling the air as the two of you sit silently on the bed. She’s gently pushing your matted hair away from your sweaty forehead, and wiping away the stream of tears you weren’t even aware you were crying. Natasha lets all the emotions that you are feeling to be let out, the entire thing overwhelming you but she doesn’t want you to completely shut down after just one play session.
The quiet doesn’t last long, the widow pushing your body to sit up. Your entire body feels weak, unstable, as you sway in your spot. She’s the only grounding factor you have in the moment, and you hate how pitiful you seem. Natasha is trying to get you to move faster, shoving at you, urging you to move faster so that she can strip the bed. You try to tell her that you can’t feel your body, that everything is just too much, but it doesn’t matter and you can see the seething anger.
Looking down at you, her hand is fisted in the sheets where she’s trying to clean up. “Stop being a worthless bitch, and move out of my way.” Her free hand tangles in your hair, throwing you off the bed. You lay, crumpled in a ball, at her feet. Not daring to move as she rips the bedding from the mattress. “I’m trying to clean up after you, and you can’t even be considerate enough to move out of the way.”
Her angry words cut deep, but she’s reaching out to you and scooping you up. It’s soft and gentle as she carries you to the bathroom. The ginger spends an immense amount of time cooing over you as she gets the water warm. Rubbing your sore muscles and softly detangling your hair, kissing all over your face each time she tugs a bit too harshly.
You basically swoon as you stand in the steaming shower, Natasha gently washing your body. Her hands running along your body makes your mind swim, quiet moans under your breath each time she randomly teases you. Leaning up against the cold tile wall as you watch her get shampoo, getting ready to wash your hair, you have to keep a grip on the shelf to keep standing. Your legs are sore and still shaky, even your body still feels weak.
When the ginger turns around to wash your hair, she sees you leaning heavily against the wall with your eyes closed. Tying to take a few deep breaths, she tries to calm down but she can’t help the searing anger. Dropping the glob of shampoo in her hand she grips your chin, and spins your body around. It’s all too quick and the slick floor makes you slip entirely too easily. You can’t even understand what she’s hissing into your ear, bitter and heated.
She’s shoving your face into the stream of water, uncaring as you choke and thrash about. Her voice, whispering directly into your ear, makes you freeze as it sinks into your bones. “Such a dumb little girl, how would you ever survive without me? Hmmm?” You aren’t sure how long you’re swallowing and gagging on water, spilling over your lips. You had given up, ready to let your lungs fill with water when she shoves you against the wall. “I don’t want to hurt you, dorogoya. I really don’t but someone has to keep you in your place. Don’t they?” She chuckles, low and heavy, when she sees you mindlessly nod.
You can feel your body being thrown around, limp, as she moves you where she wants you. Brain struggling to do anything but answer the older woman whenever she asks you a question, it’s almost as if whatever she did to you put you into autopilot.
Sinking into the warm dry sheets, you finally feel your body relaxing when she sets you in bed. Curled up in her arms, you listen to her heartbeat and her humming as you try to fall asleep. The ginger even sings to you, a Russian lullaby, to try and help you fall asleep. Nothing helps and maybe it’s the suppressed fear that lies deep within your gut, but you can tell just by how her breathing changes that it’s starting to anger her.
The hand that was once running along your back, a soothing motion, wraps tightly around your throat as she shoves you into the bed. Her body, once again, is looming over you. The forest green eyes are dark, almost a midnight black, as she stares down at you. Her grip on your throat tightens, and a sadistic smile stretches across her face. Your vision is blurry and the moment you try to claw at her arm, she catches both your hands in one. Pinning them above your head, her entire weight is leaning on your wrists and throat. “Poor baby can’t fall asleep?” A mockingly sweet noise falls from her pursed lips. “Well don’t you worry, I’m here to always make sure you can sleep. Even if you can’t do the most simple of things for yourself, I’ll be here to make it all better.”
You’re panicking as your lungs scream for oxygen, and black starts to border your already foggy vision. “I mean think about it, even with your stupid little brain you must realize that no one else will want to deal with you. No one else will love you the way I do.” She’s smiling at you, even as her fingers tighten around your throat. The pressure is crushing your windpipe, and you’re slipping into unconsciousness as you’re forced to just look up at the ginger. “I’ll make you better. I’ll mold you into my perfect little dove. I’ll keep you around and then you won’t be useless anymore, doesn’t that sound perfect?”
She forces your head to just barely nod, and she gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead as she watches your eyes flutter closed. “Goodnight my love, sleep tight. I’ll fight off any nightmares that dare interrupt your sleep.”
hello everyone! i’m writing fics and taking requests so if you have any please feel free to ask, i write for marvel only. thank you!
saturn's orbit 🪐
welcome to my blog!
ABOUT ME ✧*。
—dani. she/her. eighteen. bisexual. filo. and a libra
—I love reading, fiction and films. I love writing and watching movies A LOT ( I'm a writer I think )
my inbox is open for anyone who wants to talk and I'd really love it if you'd ask me questions or suggest what type of story you want me to write.(*˘︶˘*)
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❥ marvel
[ mcu! ]
❥ criminal minds
❥ broken record player
[ song fics ]
you do not have permission to copy, translate or steal any of my writing!
romantic lover
PAIRING—natasha romanoff x gf!fem!reader
SUMMARY—Natasha's many ways to say I love you, without actually having to say it to you
WARNINGS—pure fluff, established relationship, Natasha's a romantic, GAYYYY, Natasha's a lesbian, allusions to sex?
A/N—The writing probably sucks but I loved the concept so much I just had to write it, ALSO MY FIRST NAT FIC 😍
Natasha could say I love you in many different ways, in many different languages even but she says I love you the most when she doesn't actually say it.
She says I love you through her actions, through the little things and you don't care because for you—it's the little things that matter the most.
Natasha doesn't have a problem saying she loves you, the relationship has gone on long enough that she's comfortable in saying what she truly feels but you can't help but be touched because you can clearly feel her genuine love for you even without having to say it.
You couldn't help but love Natasha Romanoff more with her four special ways of secretly saying " I love you ".
KISSES
Natasha kissed you in a lot of ways, from small pecks or needy kisses that lead to a very hot make out session.
She had a way of kissing you that clearly meant I love you, she'd start with a one minute kiss with her soft lips to yours, then a brief kiss to your nose accompanied by an eskimo kiss, and lastly a gentle peck to your forehead while her gentle hand cupped the side of your face. She'd do this the most often, especially when leaving for yet another mission.
You love Natasha endlessly and even more because she never gets tired of showing immense affection for every part of you. She'd kiss your hands in the gentlest manner, from a peck to your palms to a peck on your knuckles as she keeps her eyes on your reddening cheeks.
She'd also never get tired of making you as red as her enemy's blood.
The most favored kiss by you, is the long lasting type, the one's she'd give that are so needy and full of passion. The kiss that makes you out of breath as you pull away because it feels overwhelming, that's the kiss that makes you feel all the feelings Natasha buries, the kiss that shows her vulnerability. She'd never be afraid to show you her vulnerability, her utmost sincere love for you because she'd never want to make you think that she doesn't love you enough.
ACTS OF SERVICE
She'd never get sick of doing things for you, for the sole reason that everything she does is for you because all Natasha would want is for you to be happy.
Natasha tries to make it subtle and not noticeable but having a spy as a girlfriend makes you learn a thing or two. You'd never point it out, slightly afraid she'd stop doing these little things for you if you said anything about it. Not just because your girlfriend's a trained spy but it's because you notice everything about Natasha, you watch her like she hung the moon and all of the stars. In your point of view, Natasha's the world and that just means you watch her and everything she does because for you—everything she does is simply extraordinary.
When she eats, she always gives you the first piece because you deserve to have everything, even the first chip from the bag. She also does the opposite and save you the last piece of everything, like the last slice of pizza or the last slice of cake.
She also doesn't hesitate to let you take her heart piece by piece. As the time goes, you've taken almost every part of Natasha. You've also taken full ownership of her heart as you chipped piece by piece through the years as well as taking down the walls that she built.
Natasha will always be yours as you are hers, you'd always own her while heart because she knows you'll never break it, not intentionally anyways.
MORNING COFFEE
Simple things like coffee made you have another special thing with your girlfriend.
Every morning would never be boring as you wake up to the most breathtaking view. The view of Natasha's face laid against a soft pillow as her wavy red hair contrasts against the sun looking like it's in flames. Your morning view couldn't get any better as you admire Natasha's sleeping form, her naked back peppered with kisses that lead her to wake up with a small nose crunch and a wide smile.
Every morning the two of you would have the routine of making coffee together and drinking the hot beverage while conversing about anything possible. You enjoyed sitting down as the sun shined peeking against the blinds and as you drank your coffee while talking to your lover.
You'd never get sick of Natasha's coffee, she made coffee as you simply get the matching dark red mugs and wait for the coffee in her embrace. She likes making coffee, only if its for herself or for you because it didn't feel like a chore or a duty but a habit she liked.
You can see the spark in her eyes as you both take the first sips of coffee with eyes locked.
HUGS
Every touch Natasha gives, gives you life. She's not much for hugs but she'd never ever pass the opportunity to give you one or to pass a hug given by you.
The first few hugs you've shared were brief and short but you knew she loved them anyways as you feel here tightening her embrace every time you give her a hug.
Your hugs were a source of energy for Natasha, a day without your hug felt like hell. The hugs you gave were a necessity for her, a hug that she needs to feel, a hug that feels like home.
All the hugs she shares with you are the longest, and if she could she'd make the hugs last a lifetime, because that's what she'd want a lifetime of hugs—with you.