Oooh What About Soft!dark! Bucky And Nat With Ballerina Daughter Reader?

ITS BEEN SO LONG !

Also a dark!Wandanat where they see you at your job one day and have to be with you 😩

A/N: I would love nothing more than for wandanat to see me working and just be like “hm...let’s fix that” also I know I’ve been gone for years 🥲

warnings: dark!fic (18+ ONLY)

✨👻 spooky month requests 👻✨

-

“Hey, can you take the customers that just came in?” you hear your manager ask and nod, smoothing your apron as you head to the front.

“Good morning! How can I help you today?”

Two women stand on the other side of the counter, and as their attention diverts from the items behind the glass to you, charming smiles appear on their faces. The one on your left has bright blonde hair resting on her shoulders in contrast to her counterpart with orange hair, both hiding behind sunglasses, but you couldn’t help feeling like you’d seen them somewhere. 

“Good morning, love,” the orange haired woman speaks softly as she steps a bit closer. “We’ve never been here before. What do you recommend?”

“If you’re feeling something sweet, these donuts are amazing,” you tell them as you gesture to a couple, moving down the counter a bit and the pair follows. “If not, these cheddar bagels are also my favorite.”

“I think we’ll take something sweet,” the blonde woman answers with a grin. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all!”

You carefully package the donuts that your customers select and ring up the transaction, answering a few questions about what the city is like, as they’re apparently just visiting for a while and wanted to know more about the area. When you finish, you’re startled by the blonde woman leaning over the counter to tuck a cash tip in your apron pocket before the pair thanks you and head out while holding hands.

“They must really like you,” your manager jokes as they approach and you cover your face with a laugh.

Outside of the bakery, Wanda climbs onto the bike behind Natasha, placing the food in her bag before wrapping her arms around her waist.

“Do you think asking someone we just met to join us while we’re on the run is coming off too strong?” Wanda asks over Natasha’s shoulder, who chuckles in response almost immediately.

“Who said we were going to ask?”

Timebomb

Adoptive Mom!Natasha Romanoff x Child!Reader + Avengers

Word Count: 5.3K

A/N: A kid!reader develops powers after being attacked in New York. The Avengers have to decide what to do with them.

Also part of a March Madness event run by @missmonsters2 This is loosely based on Matilda. :)

You’d had a life. A whole life, with parents who loved you and an apartment that you called home. That’s what you liked to imagine anyway. It didn’t matter. Whatever it was, it was over now.

Aliens had attacked New York. You didn’t remember your family, but they’d been collateral damage. You didn’t remember the apartment, but you’d seen the blasted brick and mortar of where it might have been.

Your first memory was a light. Blue until it touched your skin. You’d glowed golden for a minute, felt an uncomfortable warmth trickle underneath your skin. You hadn’t been sure if you were alive or dead.

You’d been scared, but, in truth, it had been over quickly.

When they found you, lying in the rubble, you hadn’t been human anymore.

Before that, you’d been just like everyone else; running for your life. Then a blast from Loki’s scepter had caught you in the chest.

A police officer had found you first. He’d run towards you with the steady diligence of an emergency responder in the middle of an unthinkable emergency.

His hand had touched your shoulder and, just like that, you’d gone off like a bomb.

The next person to come close, did not touch you.

You’d woken from your own explosion to see several figures emerging from the clouds of dust. Every one of them had a gun. Every gun was trained on you. Every breath stung as you inhaled fragments of the rubble around you.

You tried desperately to remember who you were, but all you could think of was your fear. There was a low thrum of constant pain around your chest. You brought your hands to your ribs instinctively, recoiling at the instant rush of pain.

You tried not to look at the guns. You tried not to think about the cold determination of those holding them. You tried, instead, to listen to the one woman who was speaking.

Clear and direct. You cried as you complied with her instructions. You knew that you wanted your parents, but you didn’t remember who they were.

You were directed into the back of a black van. Panic flooded your chest as you sat on the metal bench bolted to the floor. Your feet did not reach the ground.

You tried to look at the faces of the people pointing the guns. Each was obscured by a black gasmask. The van tasted like dread. You felt sure now that you were going to be killed or tortured.

Hot panic rose in your chest when the van doors slammed shut. Your eyes darted between the strangers in gas masks and the small hatch just across from you.

You watched as slow plumes of white smoke began to seep through the hatch. You couldn’t catch your breath. The gas tasted sweet on your tongue. The pain in your ribs faded as you lost consciousness.

—--------------

When you next woke up, you were strapped to a hospital bed. Tears sprung to your eyes as the disorientation returned. All you knew for certain was that you were alone.

The restraints on your wrists were heavy. You felt painfully explosed.

You were not alone in the hospital room. There were two others.

Somehow, you knew this before you looked over.

The two strangers’ emotions seeped into your mind unbidden.

You looked over to the far side of the room.

There was a tall woman with dark hair standing by the door. A tight pitying feeling curled in your chest. You realised that it was coming from her. You didn’t like the sensation.

There was also a man, sitting in the chair opposite you. He wore an eye patch and stupidly you thought first of a pirate. You watched his one eye warily. His emotions were colder, closely held and calculating. But, there was also something greedy there.

Fear spiked inside you. You didn’t trust this man. You didn’t understand how you could sense his feelings, but you were sure that your instinct was right.

The extra sense you’d developed whilst you were unconscious was brand new, but it felt undeniably strong.

As you processed these radiating emotions, you became more aware of your surroundings.

There was a low hum coming from the floor below you. It sounded like engines, but that didn’t make sense. You didn’t feel like you were moving. You glanced out the window. There was only blue sky and clouds.

You weren’t in New York anymore. The panic you felt was phantom. You couldn’t remember why New York was your home.

‘How old are you?’ The man asked you gruffly. You opened your mouth, coughing automatically to try and clear your throat. Your mouth still tasted like the dust and rubble.

‘I don’t know.’ You told him. ‘I don’t know anything.’ Tears began to run down your cheeks. The man’s expression didn’t change and you felt his clear distrust. You wondered if he was going to kill you.

Your eyes darted to the woman in the corner. Her expression was neutral. A careful calmness covered her earlier pity.

‘Three people died in the explosion you caused.’ The woman informed you in a cool tone. You recognised her voice with a jolt. It was the only voice in the world that you knew how to recognise. This was the one woman who had pointed a gun at you. Somehow, the familiarity reassured you.

She hadn’t killed you before.

‘I didn’t mean to. I swear, I didn’t mean to’ You told them, and your chest heaved with a shaky sob. ‘I was running and I got hit.’

‘Hit by what?’ The man asked you bluntly. You scrambled uselessly as you tried to sit up more in the bed. The restraints kept you in place.

‘There was this blue light.’ You mumbled, feeling stupid and useless with your explanation. ‘And then everything was yellow, and it knocked me over. I don’t remember anything before that.’

The man assessed you silently and you tried to control your breathing. You were too scared to look at him. You glanced nervously up at the woman every few seconds. You imagined that her eyes had softened, but you weren’t sure. It was hard to untangle anyone else’s emotions, not when your own had become so overwhelming.

The silence was oppressive, and then it was gone.

The only door to your room slammed open and you startled once more against the restraints. Four men and one woman entered the room. Your eyes trailed each one in turn. They all looked dirty, scraped and exhausted. You sensed that they felt the same too.

You only recognised the man who spoke first.

‘Thor’s keeping an eye on the Wicked Witch of the West.’ Tony Stark announced casually. ‘The rest of us were free to answer your summons.’

You stared down at the white hospital bed sheets, feeling strange shame as the group turned their attention to you.

‘Care to explain why there’s a kid in handcuffs?’ Tony Stark asked again, a fresh kind of steel in his voice. You couldn’t tell if the distrust he was radiating was aimed at you.

‘I thought Shield didn’t recruit kids.’ A blonde man murmured. His quiet pity seemed out of place.

‘They don’t.’ The woman answered quietly. ‘Or, they didn’t.’

You looked up at her voice. Despite her softer tone, her emotions were the strongest that you could sense.

Her eyes caught yours and you could feel the overwhelming concern that was hidden within them.

Other than that, her casual expression betrayed nothing.

You realised abruptly that she was scanning your face too. Nervousness forced you to look back down at the bedspread.

The eye-patch man started talking evenly. He described you as infected by the powers of someone called ‘Loki’. The dark haired woman picked up the conversation, with a succinct description of the explosion you had caused.

You started crying silently. You were painfully aware of growing distrust from everyone in the room. You didn’t feel human anymore.

Your wrists tugged instinctively once more against the handcuffs and this time they clanked. The room became brittle with tension.

‘How can we keep her contained?’ A third man asked seriously, adjusting his glasses.

‘Some of our own precautions for your green friend could become useful, Dr. Banner.’ The eyepatch man noted wryly.

You had seen the green monster rampaging on the city’s streets. Your mouth went dry. You couldn’t imagine the methods that were used to keep it under control.

‘Is that enough?’ The blonde man asked. Quiet concern emanated from him. ‘How many civilians are we putting in danger?’

‘Are we all seeing the same kid?’ The red-headed woman commented neutrally. Her words seemed passive, but you felt a strong kick of protectiveness from her.

You exhaled shakily, desperately clinging to the safety that her emotions brought you,

‘Red, I nearly died sending all the other aliens into space.’ Tony Stark noted, his anxiety clear enough in his voice. ‘You want me to keep this one as a pet?’

An unspeakable rage flitted out from the woman. Somehow, her voice stayed even.

‘Not a pet, Tony.’ She corrected in the same neutral tone. ‘A child.’

Tony rolled his eyes.

‘Or a timebomb.’ The man with the glasses countered. You could tell that he trusted you least of all.

The man who hadn’t spoken at all yet cleared his throat. His face was the most grimy, but his blue eyes were piercing.

‘Tasha’s right.’ He said simply. ‘That’s a scared kid.’

‘Please don’t kill me.’ You whispered at last, eyes darting to the man with the eyepatch who seemed to be the one making the decision.

Like before, your words had no impact on his cold emotions.

‘You don’t remember your parents?’ He checked directly.

You shook your head. You wished that you could wrap your arms around yourself. You didn’t remember them, but you felt their loss in your gut.

‘Stark Tower.’ The man determined suddenly.

Tony Stark opened his mouth to argue But, the eyepatch man continued.

‘It’s got the security and the surveillance capabilities. But it’s not a prison.’ He explained, eyeing the red-haired woman pointedly.

There were protests and debates that happened after that. The whole group left your hospital room still arguing between themselves.

But, from that moment, your future had been determined.

—---------------

Stark Tower was impressive. You felt more scared with every step you took. Curious eyes watched you from all directions. You were hard to ignore with your security detail.

You walked alongside the eyepatch man, now known to you as ‘Director Fury.’ You had to half-run to keep up with him. Agent Hill walked directly behind you.

To anyone else, the escort would have looked unusually protective. You hated yourself for the danger you were inflicting by being near others.

As you all stood together in the elevator. Director Fury told you about the Simulated Home Environment. The building’s AI would constantly monitor you, following detailed instructions given by Tony Stark.

You would be allowed a semblance of a home life. Any actions outwith the enforced rules would result in a different containment method.

Maybe he caught your confused look.

‘Behave.’ He intoned at last, and you nodded nervously.

The elevator doors opened at last.

Tony Stark and a professional looking woman with light auburn hair were waiting.

‘Didn’t blow up the building then.’ Tony noted dryly as you stepped into the living room space. Wealth dripped from every furnishing in the room.

The woman shot him a reprimanding look, before turning to you with a polite smile. Her expensive suit was undermined by the careful kindness that radiated from her. She extended her hand.

‘Nice to meet you.’ She said clearly. ‘I’m Pepper Potts.’

You took her hand shyly, it was the first normal contact you could remember. It calmed the skin crawling feeling of your touch starved existence. You pretended not to feel the spike of distrust from Tony at your touch.

‘I run Stark Industries, and I live here too.’ She supplied, confirming the relationship between her and Tony.

‘Nice to meet you.’ You whispered, scared now of ever making too much noise. Everyone had warned you not to cause damage, but no one had told you how to avoid it.

Whatever powers you’d been given. They were as unknown to you as they were to anyone else.

Despite her kindness, Pepper looked slightly relieved as she let go of your hand.

‘Jarvis.’ Tony called out suddenly, and you heard an answering voice from above.

‘Good evening (Y/N).’ A British voice intoned from the ceiling.

You jumped sharply at the unexpected noise and, in response, a deathly tension filled the room. Everyone’s eyes were on you.

‘I’m fine.’ You mumbled embarrassedly.

‘Keep it that way.’ Fury warned you in a low voice.

‘I’ll leave you to play Happy Families.’ He addressed Tony and Pepper, before reentering the waiting elevator with Agent Hill.

All you were left with was nerves. You tried to pretend that there wasn’t hope mixed in as well.

‘Dinner?’ Pepper suggested with forced lightness.

You nodded. A primal, desperate wish for family made it hard to breathe.

As you walked forward, Pepper’s hand moved automatically to touch your shoulder. She pulled back at the last moment. You pretended not to notice.

Tony seemed the most brooding as you ate together in silence. You worked through a plate of salmon, greens and rice even though you weren’t hungry.

You drank your water, unable to lose an aching thirst at the back of your throat.

Pepper and Tony both scrolled on StarkPads as they ate robotically. You wondered if they were always like this, or it was their attempt to ignore the tension.

The prickling thirst in the back of your throat made you desperate to cough. You fought the impulse, not wanting to make any sound. You knew they’d both startle if you did. You hated how easily you scared people. You hated being so unwanted.

When you offered to rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher, Pepper acquiesced unsurely.

They both moved over to the open plan living room space. You didn’t need to see their worried glances to know they didn’t trust you around knives.

The unrelenting feeling of thirst was almost entirely distracting.

You tried to focus on your task. Any little thing to pretend at being normal felt good.

You wondered if it was moments like this that Agent Romanoff had been advocating for when she’d spoken up for you in the hospital room. You tried to decide if this was what family meant.

Just as you finished the chore, you heard a clinking sound from behind you. At the same time, your feeling of thirst began to abate.

You turned slowly, savouring the silent relief you felt.

Tony was standing by the window, staring out as he drank a large whisky with ice. Pepper was sitting on the sofa, talking with quiet purpose into her phone.

Every sip Tony took, lessened the feeling of thirst for you. It scared you to think that his thirst was so strong.

Tony turned back to you. He watched you with a look of mild distaste.

Suddenly, you thought back to his comment about having a pet. You wondered if that’s why his stare made you feel so small.

‘Come on.’ He announced at last as she drained his glass. ‘I’ll show you your room.’

Despite leading you forward, he kept you carefully in his sight.

You kept your eyes trained to the floor.

It felt stupid to be scared, when you were the dangerous one.

Tony pushed open the door to your room.

It was clean, fresh and dripping with the same wealth as the rest of the penthouse.

The walls were a steely kind of grey. They reminded you immediately of the reinforced Shield ones. With a jolt, you realised that they were made of the same material.

You blinked back tears of shame.

You’d had nightmares in the hospital. You’d heard the nurses talking about how you’d glowed red when you dreamed.

You felt like a freak.

‘The door will be locked automatically by Jarvis when you go to sleep’ Tony informed you tersely. Just being alone with you had made his anxiety spiked noticeably. His thirst was rising again. His emotions undercut any facade of nonchalance.

You nodded.

‘It’s getting late.’ Tony added, and you felt his rising anticipation to be away from you.

You pretended that what he said was true.

‘I’m quite tired.’ You lied, watching Tony’s expression relax with relief.

‘Night, kid.’ He muttered as he shut the door behind him.

You went to sit on the large bed. It was comfortable, but the coral pink sheets clashed ridiculously with the rest of the room.

You took off your shoes and paused unsurely as you scanned the room. You hurried over to the chest of drawers in the corner, opening the drawers until you found one filled with pyjamas.

You changed robotically. A new listlessness distracted you.

Tony’s dismissal had thrown you. Despite the awkward tension in the living room, it had been more social interaction than you could ever remember having.

You were sick of feeling so isolated. You were sick of being so completely alone.

More than anything though, you knew you didn’t want to sleep.

You could hear screams in your nightmares sometimes. The last second of life for the people you’d killed.

You thought a lot about the families that you’d ripped a hole into. You worried that you were spreading pain, like some diseased consequence of Loki’s weapon.

No one missed you though.

Agent Hill had been factual when you’d finally got the courage to ask. No family members were looking for you. They must have died too.

Or. A little voice whispered in your head. Or no-one’s ever wanted you.

You hugged your legs as you sat back on your new bed. It was the closest you could get to a hug. You pretended that you weren’t crying, but you didn’t know how to stop.

You could hear Pepper laughing in the other room. She sounded relaxed, relieved. It felt lonelier being this close to happiness, knowing it could only happen when you weren’t there.

‘Will you be sleeping soon Y/N?’ The disembodied voice of Jarvis, spoke again into the room. You stared unsurely upwards, trying and failing to see any marker of where the voice originated.

‘No.’ You breathed your answer, worried that your response might be breaking the rules that Fury had warned you about.

‘May I suggest a book?’ Jarvis offered. His voice was polite, inherently friendly. Even without emotions for you to read, it was easy to trust him.

You walked obediently to the bookshelf in the corner and picked up the first book you saw.

The book was dry, but it was better than nothing. At the hospital, there’d been nothing to occupy you at all.

You fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, too tired for even the screams.

—------------------

Jarvis opened the blinds in the room at exactly 7 am.

Your eyes screwed tight shut at the brightness. It did no good, you were awake.

Your head pounded with sleep deprivation as you got ready, before heading through to the kitchen.

Pepper was sitting at the table, wearing a white skirt suit. She was sipping coffee from an oversized flask.

Her attention snapped to you as you walked through the door.

‘There you are.’ She said politely, and you were surprised by the feeling of stress that she was hiding. ‘I was hoping you’d be up soon. What can I get you for breakfast?’

Pepper’s smile was welcoming, but you caught the way she glanced at her watch.

‘It’s okay.’ You mumbled, feeling awful as you realised that she was running late on your behalf. ‘I can make my own.’

Pepper hesitated.

‘Are you sure?’ She checked, and like with Tony the night before, you could sense her anticipation to leave.

You nodded, trying to seem confident.

Pepper nodded once before leaving. Like yesterday, you watched her half-hesitate about touching your shoulder.

Instead, she picked up her StarkPad and gave you a small wave.

‘Have a good day. Tony’ll be around for lunch’ She said with another polite smile, before the elevator doors closed.

Alone in the penthouse for the first time felt both scary and exciting. You should have expected Jarvis’ immediate interruption.

‘Babysitter protocol has been activated.’ He informed you.

‘Great.’ You said with a friendly smile toward the ceiling. Jarvis wasn’t real, but at least you weren’t completely on your own.

Patiently, Jarvis walked you step by step through a pancake recipe. It was nearly an hour until you’d progressed far enough to eat anything. Still, you couldn’t stop the proud grin when you found out the pancakes were edible.

‘Thanks Jarvis.’ You called out shyly. The ridiculousness of talking to the ceiling was quickly being overwritten by the thrill of talking to someone.

‘Of course.’ He responded succinctly.

It felt good to have someone to talk to. It didn’t let up the skin crawling feeling, but it helped. When Jarvis suggested that you watch some television, you agreed obediently. Easily distracted, you found yourself asking the AI questions as you watched

Jarvis told you the history of every artefact that you pointed out from the movie about a Night At The Museum.

Secretly, you wished more than anything that Jarvis was real. He sensed your need to keep talking, even when you ran out of questions.

He told you stories about earlier versions of himself. The funny glitches that had been patched over the years.

The only painful moment had come after you’d asked about the best museums in New York.

There had been a slight pause before Jarvis had answered.

‘You’re not permitted to leave the apartment without Mr. Stark or Director Fury.’ He answered clearly.

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. It was hard not to feel like a prisoner sometimes. You stared out the floor-length windows. You wished that you could remember fresh air, without the taste of rubble or debris.

A new idea hit you as the end credits played on the TV screen.

If Tony was your best chance at going outside, you had to get him to like you.

Agent Romanoff’s words about being a pet, struck you again. It didn’t seem so bad to you now. Even dogs were allowed fresh air.

Getting to your feet, you checked the time. It was nearly lunch. You asked Jarvis what Tony’s favourite meal was.

—---

When Tony arrived at 2pm, you were as prepared as you could be. A whiskey coke and a burger were sitting ready on the counter.

Tony walked over to the counter and observed the food. He made no move to sit down on one of the stools. His heightened distrust told you exactly what he was thinking.

‘Where did that come from?’ He said in a voice that was more accusation than question. Before you could speak, Jarvis cut in.

‘I have monitored and instructed Y/N.’ He informed Tony matter of factly. You flushed, sure you could hear an element of pride in the AI’s voice.

Tony sniffed the glass and you felt the same choking thirst as you had last night as he smelled the whiskey.

The tension in the room eased as he took a sip. He nodded and you fought a smile.

Tony downed the glass efficiently. Then, he lifted the burger bun slightly, examining the meal with an unimpressed look.

In one quick move, he lifted the plate and emptied it into the trash.

A feeling of acute hopelessness made you grip the counter to stay standing.

‘You’re only allowed to cook for yourself.’ Tony muttered. ‘Don’t get smart with the rules.’

He picked up his Starkpad and walked back to the elevator.

You ate the burger that you’d saved for yourself. The half blackened first attempt to Tony’s. A numbness filled the cracks in your heart. Even Jarvis stayed silent.

After you’d cleaned the kitchen, you went back to your room.

No space felt welcome anymore, except perhaps in here. Without prompting, you picked up the next book on the shelf.

Jarvis spoke softly.

‘As part of the Simulated Home Environment programme, I can order you more books.’ He offered.

You closed your eyes as tears started falling again. Instinctively, you understood that it was the closest he could offer to a hug.

‘Thanks Jarvis.’ You whispered.

You resolved in that moment, to avoid Tony and Pepper as much as possible. Guilt plagued you as you realised that you were ruining their home. Jarvis made the decision bearable, even artificial kindness was better than rejection.

—-------------

It is very easy to forget someone you don’t care about. It is even easier when you are barely reminded of them.

You adjusted immediately to a schedule of isolation. You only ate meals when the apartment was empty. You did your best to stay occupied in the room you’d been assigned.

Pepper made a half-hearted effort initially.

She would come to your room in the evening, checking in with her careful kindness and polite smile. Just feeling her exhaustion after a long day of work only made you feel more guilty for existing.

Soon, you started making sure you were in bed before she returned. You heard her try your locked door once or twice. Soon, she left you alone.

Tony’s method was much more efficient. He made no attempts to see you.

You were sure he tried to put you out of mind as much as possible. Any messages from him were relayed through Jarvis.

Sometimes, you only knew he had returned to the apartment, because of the pang of thirst that would only last a few moments after arrival.

—-------

Jarvis became your best friend. Grocery orders soon included as much tailoring to your wants as he could manage. You tried making new recipes together.

You weren’t allowed any internet access, so every book he provided you with was a welcome relief from the unrelenting listlessness. He found a loophole to buy you educational materials, and soon enough you had lego kits and engineering kits to trial.

The best part about Jarvis was that he talked to you. He learned to wake you from nightmares, before the red glow knocked your furniture over.

Your skin never stopped crawling from the lack of touch. But, as the world carried on better without you in it, you learned that isolation was what you deserved.

—----------

When Tony took Pepper on a surprise Christmas vacation, you were surprised by the disappointment you felt.

You’d been looking forward to seeing a Christmas tree more than anything.

You tried to see the positive of unrestricted access to the whole of the apartment. You watched Christmas movies and commented on them to Jarvis. You built your own tree out of green lego, and placed it on the side table.

Loneliness was a feeling that had started to drag. You tried to put it out of your mind.

You weren’t expecting anything for Christmas, least of all what you got.

At 7pm on Christmas Eve, Jarvis announced that an authorised guest had entered the elevator.

Electric fear had sent you into a tailspin. You were sure it must be Director Fury. You worried he’d found out you were home alone, and was ready to move you somewhere more secure.

You’d had that exact nightmare more than once.

When Agent Romanoff stepped off the elevator, clutching her side in obvious injury, your mouth dropped in shock.

‘Hi kid.’ She said with a reassuring smile clearly intended to keep you calm. ‘You happen to know where the first aid kit is?’

The instruction grounded your shooting anxiety. You hadn’t been face to face with another person in months. You nodded, hurrying over to the cupboard under the sink for the nearest kit.

You offered it out to her from a careful distance, embarrassed by the way your hands trembled. She noticed the shaking, but she didn’t comment.

‘Thanks.’ She murmured and you couldn’t help the rush of relief at her praise.

You could feel her curiosity at your reaction. It sat with her muted pain, just below the surface.

‘Happy Christmas.’ She said with another kind smile, nodding down at the lego Christmas tree on the side table. ‘Did you build that with Tony?’

You shook your head as fear constricted your heart. You knew Jarvis had found a loophole in his instructions to even get you the lego in the first place.

‘You built it yourself? That’s impressive.’ She commented. You let out a shaky exhale at her reassurance. Her head tilted imperceptibly, but you felt her sudden confusion.

‘Do you need help Agent Romanoff?’ You stumbled unsurely, gesturing towards the first aid kit.

‘No, that’s okay.’ She assured you, as she started walking towards the nearest bathroom. ‘And you can call me Natasha.’

You didn’t reply, you felt rooted to the spot. You hugged yourself, but you weren’t sure why.

‘You got big plans tonight?’ Natasha called out from the bathroom, leaving the door open as she placed the first aid kit on the sink and began addressing the deep gash above her hip.

You stared at the ground, not wanting to seem intrusive. It wasn’t hard to focus on something else during a conversation. You talked to Jarvis all the time, and he wasn’t even in the room.

‘No.’ You answered quietly. Short answers felt safer.

‘When are Tony and Pepper getting home?’ Natasha asked, pausing to hiss as she wrapped a bandage around her front.

‘Jarvis said a few more weeks.’ You answered promptly.

There was a clatter in the bathroom.

‘Jarvis?’ Natasha asked the ceiling, with forced calm.

The tension in her voice made your stomach flutter with nervousness. Jarvis responded without hesitation.

‘Babysitter protocol is anticipated to last until the 11th of January, but Mr. Stark has not confirmed his return.’

There was an extended silence.

‘Fuck.’ Natasha said quietly. She walked out of the bathroom and back towards you. You felt ashamed, but you weren’t sure why. You held yourself tighter.

‘When was the last time you saw Tony or Pepper?’ She asked you, her eyes scanning you with renewed attentiveness.

You hesitated, trying desperately to remember an instance.

Natasha shook her head, taking your silence as answer enough.

She reached out to touch your shoulder.

You flinched violently and startled backward in alarm.

Natasha’s shock was obvious.

You stared down at the ground as you started to cry.

‘Sorry.’ You whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘I wasn’t trying to hurt you.’ Natasha told you gently. You were too scared to meet her eyes.

‘I know.’ You assured her as you tried to brush away your tears. ‘It’s me. I’m dangerous.’

The silence extended out again.

Natasha broke it with a renewed certainty in her tone.

‘You’re coming with me.’ She decided quietly. ‘And then, I’m calling Tony.’

You fought an instinctive sense of elation as deep-rooted worries floated up inside you.

‘Y/N is not permitted to leave the apartment without Director Fury or Mr. Stark.’ Jarvis supplied immediately, voicing the most obvious problem.

‘My clearance is higher than Director Fury’s.’ Natasha noted in her deceptively passive voice.

‘Correct.’

‘Only seems logical that I should have the same authority.’ Natasha concluded. ‘I do also represent Shield.’

Jarvis didn’t answer.

Suddenly, the elevator doors slid open in the corner of the room.

Natasha understood Jarvis' wordless signal as much as you did.

With a delicateness that you didn’t deserve, Natasha took your hand in hers. You started trembling immediately. She didn’t tighten her hold as she led you into the elevator.

‘Everything is going to be okay.’ Natasha murmured, as you descended the tower for the very first time.

You didn’t answer. You wanted to believe her more than anything.

TBC

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I Told You

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

(18+ Only) Warnings: mommy kink, oral-sex on strap on (nat receiving), face-fucking, spitting kink, praise kink, degradation, spanking, choking, hair-pulling, dub-con (?), tummy-bulge kink, overstimulation, cum-filled strap on

A/N: hello! this is a second part to Mile High Club! it’s thot hours, so i hope you whores enjoy this one. happy reading <3

anon requested: My good lord. I need a Part II to Mile High Club, where Nat is absolutely destroying R with her strap🥵🥵

Mile High Club | I Told You

Summary: Natasha is a woman of her word.

Word Count: 1.8K

| masterlist | request rules/guidelines | wips |

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

You hit the floor with a loud thud as Natasha shoved you into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. 

You stayed on your knees, knowing all too well that your punishment would worsen if you moved an inch. 

You watched as Natasha slowly tore her clothes off, purposely taking a little longer than usual, to see if you’d disobey her, but to her surprise, you didn’t.

Even as she walked over to the closet and pulled out your favorite strap-on, attaching the harness to her waist, you didn’t budge. 

Natasha was impressed, but she wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of knowing that. 

The redhead stalked over to you, where you still kneeled in front of the bed. You let out a squeal when she harshly gripped your hair, pulling your face towards the toy. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Suck.” 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You didn’t have to be told twice as you gripped the base of the cock, running your tongue around the tip teasingly, but a grunt from Natasha and a needy thrust of her hips, put a stop to your teasing. 

Nat shoved the entire length into your mouth in one swift motion, smiling at the sound of your gags as the strap hit the back of your throat, tears springing to your eyes quickly. 

“You better get to work and make mommy cum before I really give you something to cry about and fuck you with no preparation.” 

You focused on breathing through your nose, nodding against her cock before pulling your mouth completely off of the strap, slamming back onto the strap. 

Each time the strap hit the back of your throat, the base of the cock would rub against Nat’s clit, providing her pleasure as well. 

Her moans encouraged you to keep going. You didn’t want to disappoint your mommy. So, you took a deep breath through your nose and took the entire length into your mouth, and held it there for a few seconds. 

Natasha looked down and groaned at the sight of you on your knees, droll trailing down your mouth and chin, your beautiful gags filling the silence of the room. 

You pulled back halfway and repeatedly slammed down onto her cock, sucking as hard as you could. Even though you knew Nat couldn’t feel it, what you did know was that she went crazy over the sounds, and you were right. 

The redhead gripped both sides of your head and began to pound the strap into your mouth, fucking your face as fast as she could. 

“Fuck, baby. Mommy’s gonna cum for you. You’re so good with your mouth. Gonna fill that slutty mouth with my cum.” 

Natasha muttered out and with a few more thrusts, she came with a silent moan. You felt the fake cum fill your mouth and hastily swallowed everything. 

You looked up and watched as your girlfriend’s head flew back and her eyes fluttered shut, the hands on your head were shaking as she was overcome with bliss. 

When the Russian relaxed, she yanked you off of her cock, reveling in the coughs that followed after the action.

She smirked in satisfaction. The thought of your throat being sore tomorrow from her cock had Natasha eager to fuck you, and that’s exactly what she planned on doing. 

“You look so pretty like this, honey. Covered in spit, cum, and tears like a dumb whore. Open.”

You opened your mouth at Natasha’s command. She gripped your jaw and spit into your mouth, wiping away a few drops of cum that you failed to swallow.

“Swallow, strip, and get on all fours. Face down and ass up, baby.” 

You immediately swallowed and stood up. You tore your clothing off at lightning speed before practically jumping onto the bed in excitement. Natasha let out a dark chuckle as you did so.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too excited, slut. I’m gonna destroy this sweet pussy.” 

You closed your eyes and shuttered as Natasha teasingly rubbed the strap against your slit. 

“Please, mommy. Please fuck me with your cock.” You begged, but you quickly learned that was a bad move, when Natasha’s hand landed a hard smack against your ass. 

She spanked you a few more times, her blows getting harder as she continued. By the time she was finished, you were shuddering and crying as she rubbed the red skin. 

“Whores don’t get to beg. You take what mommy gives you and deal with it. Understood?” 

You nodded against the bed, your face buried into the mattress. You made sure to mumble a ‘yes mommy’ to avoid more spanks. 

Suddenly, all the air was knocked out of your lungs when Natasha slammed the cock deep into your entrance. 

Her hands gripped your waist tightly as she set off with a brutal pace. The sounds of skin slapping and your whorish moans resounded throughout the bedroom. 

“Fuck, baby. No matter how many times I stretch out this pussy with my big cock, you’re still so tight. Such a cockwhore.” 

Natasha grunted out as she continued her relentless thrusting. You were practically bouncing on her dick from the force of her thrusts. 

“Your cockwhore, mommy.” You turned your head to the side, your cheek pressed against the plush mattress, as you tried to catch your breath. 

Natasha gripped the base of your neck and yanked you up, your back flush against her chest. Her grip was tight as she rutted into you. 

“My cockwhore? That’s right, you’re my little slut, nothing but a hole for mommy to fuck. Isn’t that right, princess?” 

You were panting, feeling lightheaded from the slight restriction she provided to your airways. 

“Yes! Yes, mommy. All my holes are yours to fuck. Only yours.” 

You were completely overtaken by the pleasure. She continued to ram the strap into your pussy and the squelching sounds turned you on even more.

“Cum on mommy’s cock, whore. Let everyone know that I’m the only one who can make you feel this good.” 

Natasha’s other hand reached around to rub tight circles onto your clit, the speed of her thrusts increasing until you came around her cock with a loud scream of her name, ‘mommy,’ and some other words the redhead couldn’t understand. 

You breathed heavily as Natasha let go of your throat. You didn’t even have the strength to catch yourself. You just let your upper body fall onto the bed as Natasha gripped your hips again, keeping your lower half up for her dick. 

Natasha continued pounding into you. She was sweating from the effort it took, but she didn’t care. She’d continue to fuck you, even if it was the last thing she’d ever do. 

She admired the way your ass would bounce against her pelvis each time she bottomed out. She loved the redness of your skin, her handprints clearly visible from her slaps. 

One of her hands slid up your spine, absolutely loving the way your back was arched, taking every inch of the cock desperately. 

You winced as her fingernails dug into the skin of your back, scratching down your back. That was definitely going to leave behind some marks, not that you cared anyway. 

You loved when Natasha would leave marks on your body. It was as if she was claiming you. She wanted everyone to know that she owned you and that was a huge turn-on. 

“Your pussy is so desperate for mommy. I wish you could see how beautiful my cock looks inside of you, moya lyubov (my love).” 

You whined when Natasha slapped your ass each time she thrust into you. The pain was nothing compared to the pleasure. So, your squeals turned into moans. 

It didn’t take long for you to fall over the edge again. You let out an animalistic scream as you came. Your entire body froze and you swear you stopped breathing for a second as you succumbed to the pleasure. 

Natasha’s thrusts slowed and you let out a sigh of relief. You thought she was done, but oh, you were so fucking wrong. 

The redhead picked you up and flipped you onto your back, her cock still inside of you. She began to fuck you once more, and you looked up at her pleadingly.

“Mommy, I- I can’t take anymore. Please stop.” You begged your girlfriend, but she didn’t listen. She continued to thrust into you roughly, one of her hands coming up and wrapping around your throat. 

“You can and you will. Didn’t you say you were mommy’s cockwhore? And you’re begging me to stop fucking you? You’re pathetic.”

Natasha’s thrusts slowed, but they were still rough as she pounded into you. She was hitting all of your sweet spots with precision, her other hand finding its way to your hip.

You were extremely sensitive at this point. Each thrust had you twitching and wincing slightly. It had become too much, but you wanted to please her so bad, so you gave in. 

Natasha’s eyes lit up when she saw the bulge of her dick prodding through your stomach. She loved how deeply she could fuck you; it was exhilarating. 

“Mommy’s cock is so deep inside your pussy, honey.” The redhead growled out as the hand on your hip traveled up your body. She moaned as she felt the bulge of her dick in your stomach. It drove her wild and she was desperate to have you cumming against her again.

“Mommy’s gonna fill your pussy up with her cum. Gonna make you my little cumdump.” 

Natasha grunted as her hand reached down and rubbed your clit quickly. Your eyes shut open, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the sheets tightly. You were biting your lips so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised if you drew blood. 

“Come on, honey. Coat mommy’s cock with your cum.” Natasha leaned down, still thrusting into you as she whispered filthily into your ear. 

Your vision blurred as you came. You were so exhausted that you couldn’t bring yourself to scream as you hit euphoria. Your back rose off of the mattress, your neck straining from the angle. 

The feeling of warm cum filling you up had you shuttering below the redhead. Natasha kept thrusting into you, pushing more of the cum deep inside of your pussy. 

You whined when Natasha pulled the strap out of your cunt, the sound of your wetness filling the room. The redhead threw the strap to some spot in the room, reminding herself to clean it later. 

You stared up at your girlfriend through glossy eyes as she hovered over you. Natasha licked some of the drool that had escaped your lips with the tip of her tongue and moaned. 

She stared down at you with a cocky smirk. You were completely fucked out, your body drenched in sweat as your hair clung to your forehead. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I told you I’d fuck you till you begged me to stop.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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I love the banter between them they're assholes for eachother in the nicest way possible lmao💕 Natasha avoiding chores and casually talking about killing a man is just so funny😭 Also the mommy kink... Her calling us a good girl I cant do this today😭😭

idiot4idiot

pairing: nat/f!reader

summary:

Natasha Romanov: superspy extraordinaire, Avenger, routine trespasser, and chore-avoider. Oh, and a romantic.

notes: fluff, couldnt get mediocre gfs out of my head<3

series: one, two, ao3

Keep reading

At Her Altar, As Her Worship

Ever since your turning you have been succumbing to the cold. Your faithful mentor and vampiric 'mother,' Natasha would never allow it to happen.

Warnings: General blood themes because of vampires, Natasha gets bitten consentually on the breast by reader, reader drinks breast milk and blood, reader sucks on Natasha's breasts, no pronouns are used for reader, reader gets called little love, fluffiness, gave me a cavity💕

Note you do not have permission to translate and or repost this story thank you :)

Also in case it wasn't clear Natasha is reader's 'mother'(?) in this cause Nat turned them so she takes care of them :)❤️

The warmth from Natasha's skin felt as though it was sinking into your lips and aching fangs, warming the perpetual chill inside you. Her long soft red hair brushes against your cheeks.

--

From your position buried in Natasha's neck you couldn't see her face, but the sweet lilt to her low humming said that Natasha was content. A callused hand gently cups the back of your head, before deft fingers begin to smooth down your baby hairs.

You could smell the sweet detergent clutching to her bare chest, a fluttery kiss pressed to your temple. The soft crackling of the ridiculously large victorian fire place popped gently in your ears as your head perks up shyly. Natasha's fond smile growing at the sight, her lullaby tapering off.

"Go on little love, just like how I taught you." The feeling of her full, plush breasts pressed against your shoulder and neck sent a warm flush to your ears.

You are guided toward her chest and pink perky nipples, your lips parting hesitantly. Gleaming fangs gently pierce the milky skin around her nipple before your mouth suckles on her breast. Warm blood with a slight tang and sweet milk flows into your awaiting mouth.

The unrelenting sour hunger finally eases and warmth flows into your previously stiff and chilly fingers. Eyes flutter as your mind grows warm, hazy and sleepy. Natasha rubs your back affectionately, beginning to hum another lullaby.

ceo natty making sure no one hurts her (pillow) princess

protective and soft natty pls

implied little!r

a/n: I wasn’t sure if you wanted smut for this, but since you mentioned pillow princess reader I just kinda went with it haha.. also I don’t write little!reader stuff so I just made reader shy and skittish? It fits with the vibe I think so I hope this is acceptable? I spent waaayyy too long on this so apologies for typos and whatever

warnings: 18+, minors DNI; smut; creepy men being creepy (Natasha saves you obvs); masturbation (briefly); fingering (r receiving); possessive Natasha, but she's very loving and soft to R

words: 2.9K

kinktober event. || kinktober masterlist. || main masterlist.

If you had it your way you’d be comfortably in bed in your pajamas, curled up while you watched the new baking show Netflix managed to squeeze out. Preferably in your girlfriend’s arms. The same girlfriend who’d kept you away from your cozy plans tonight.

Going into the relationship, you knew Natasha was a busy person. She was important, the best at what she did even. She was respected for good reason; Natasha worked hard to get where she was, having made it to the point where she didn't have to work another day for the rest of her life, but still she showed up and stayed present. It was safe to say Natasha was a workaholic. And while you were proud of her, you did miss her a lot.

Once it was clear you were serious about dating the slightly older woman, Natasha started to let you in more, but you were still subject to cancellations for "work emergencies" and "necessary work meetings." Eventually she insisted you move in with her, claiming she wanted to spend more time with you, but you had a sneaking suspicion the nights you went out drinking your loneliness with friends and her worry for your well-being had something to do with it too.

Living together was nice, sweet even. You got to sleep next to her each night and sometimes you woke up ridiculously early just to watch her resting face, to look at her face when her features were fully relaxed and free from thoughts of her work. Occupying the same space as Natasha also meant she knew your day to day schedule in and out and she tried to plan around you to get the most time with you, but sometimes things came up.

Things like tonight, some Halloween cocktail gathering for people who mean nothing to you, but everything to the future of business. Talks of stocks, trades, and risky investments flew back and forth while you either nodded half-heartedly or zoned out altogether. Natasha convinced you to come with promises of free drinks and laughing at everyone's stuck-up attitudes together and you reasoned that it might be nice to meet some of the people Natasha grumbled about most evenings at dinner.

Instead she'd left you alone about thirty minutes in and she's been sparse ever since, only seeing her for a moment when she found time to check in on you, twirl a stray hair at your ear and promise she'd be back in a few minutes. You wanted to be mad at the redhead, but mostly you were mad at yourself. It was expected she'd be drawn into conversations; everyone wanted to talk to the alluring Natasha Romanoff.

Occasionally she'd gesture in your direction and smile with a few other people, presumably talking about you and it made you blush every time, the proud grin on her face making you feel like the most important person in the room. No, it was impossible to stay upset with her when she looked at only you in such an uncharacteristically soft way.

So you settled into your little corner and scrolled your phone, nursing your glass of champagne while you waited for the event to end. It grew as comfortable as can be to at least not be bothered by anyone else, but of course that didn't last.

"So whose wife are you?"

The voice was almost weaselly, obviously a little intoxicated from the tinge of slur to his words. You let out a long-suffering breath, annoyed that you were now being bothered in the spot you'd carved out for yourself. "No one's. But I'm here with Natasha."

Any hope that he'd go away with the mention of your girlfriend's name was dashed when he only scooted closer. "Ah, you're her. And she left you here all alone?"

"She didn't leave me. She's busy." He was sitting way too close now, your bare arm brushing his suit sleeve. You didn't like this and Natasha would hate it. But she probably wasn't paying attention; you hadn't caught sight of her for at least twenty minutes and when you scanned the room you didn't find fiery red hair anywhere.

Whoever this man was apparently found your answer funny because he was laughing, his alcohol soaked breath hitting your nose along with an unfortunate spray of his saliva. If you could, you would've bolted, but he'd trapped you in the booth you sat in, his arm stretched out to the table now so even the thought of trying to squeeze by him was impossible. Maybe if you were more outspoken, you'd have yelled or had some scathing remark to send him running, but you remained painfully quiet. You cursed your head for staying empty when all you wanted to do was help yourself out of an excruciatingly uncomfortable situation.

"Seems like she left you, sweetheart. Does she do that a lot? I'd never let you out of my sight. Or my bed even." You felt bile rise in your throat at the insinuation.

So absorbed in your disgust, you didn't notice the looming shadow of a certain redhead cast over the drunk party guest. "I'm sure I didn't just hear what I thought I did." The man before you went pale as a sheet, eyes wide as he turned shakily to face your girlfriend. She had her arms crossed across her chest, staring him down as if she wasn't half his height once he stood up.

While he shook in fear, safety washed over you with her mere presence and something else, something like lust flooding you at the sight of her defensive stance. Natasha always made sure to remind you of your free will, to do whatever made you happy, but you wouldn't deny that her stepping between you and your annoyance made you feel.. protected. Like something you were worth protecting. Lovingly owned.

“What was it you were saying? You’d never let her out of your sight?” Natasha went to step closer, but at some point you’d grasped her hand and held it so she could tug you closer until your head was pressed against her hip. Instinctively, you folded against her side, eyes to the ground because as safe as you felt, looking at him wasn’t a necessity anymore so you wouldn’t. Natasha’s hand came to your head, smoothing out your hair much more lovingly than the rest of her.

The poor man finally grasped how fucked he truly was, eyes darting between Natasha and over to where the rest of the guests were talking to themselves, either unaware of the situation or knowing better than to intercept Natasha. “N-No, I didn’t mean it that way. I would never-!”

“With all of the ‘never’s coming out of your mouth tonight, let me add another one to your list,” You doubted Natasha knew her hand was gripping your shoulder almost painfully now, clutching you impossibly closer as if you’d flee without her grounding you. “Never talk to my girl again. Never look at her, never think about her- nothing. Because if you do, that would be really upsetting to me and I wouldn’t be able to let that slide.” Natasha’s typically deep voice currently held more threatening energy than you’d ever heard. It scared you a bit and you vowed right then you’d try your hardest to never be the subject of her ire.

He fumbled and sputtered, scrambling for absolutely anything to say. There was nothing except, “Yes, Ms. Romanoff. S-Sorry for the confusion.” Natasha’s unwavering stare sent him running with his tail between his legs, making his way across the room as fast as his drunken gait would take him.

As soon as your problem fled, the weight of your situation hit you, tears springing to life in the corners of your eyes. “Natty…” Perfectly manicured nails moved to scratch at your scalp, the motion of her fingers soothing your worries instantly.

“Come on, my love, it’s time to go home, yeah?” Her tone was soft again, the voice reserved for you alone. You nodded her head as you mumbled an apology for ruining her dress with your running mascara, but she shushed you in an instant.

The trip home was a blur and that was alright. Natasha took care of everything, as always, and next time you truly registered your surroundings you were right where you wanted to be: home in bed with your love.

You didn’t know if you’d fallen asleep or not, but when you finally took a peek out of the far off window, it was pitch black outside. Slivers of moonlight were the only light source, just barely illuminating the sleeping features of your girlfriend’s face. Flashbacks of the night’s events played through your mind while you thought of the difference between the public persona of Natasha Romanoff, CEO and ruthless negotiator, and your Natasha, a loving partner and fierce protector. The memory of how hot she looked shielding you from harm made your legs squeeze together, a familiar tightening blooming deep in the pit of your stomach.

There was a slight element of shame tied to having been turned on by the sight of Natasha brutally cutting someone down to size, but she was doing it for you and that’s what stuck in your brain. You knew she would do anything for you, but seeing it was something else. Still, you couldn’t wake her up for just this; you’d needed enough attending that night.

Scooting back down under the blankets until everything but your head was covered, you resigned yourself to taking care of your own problems. Shy hands slid down your body, feeling the curves and slopes of your own form until you reached the top of your thighs. Typically you slept in a short nightgown, a simple pair of underwear your only other layer. Natasha’s request, of course; she loved feeling your skin against hers while you slept. Tonight was no exception and you were grateful, less fabric to contend with as your fingers slipped past the thin elastic waistband.

It felt naughty almost to have your hand buried between your legs while your girlfriend slept unaware mere inches from you, but you didn’t want to bother her and as one finger purposely just barely brushed your clit, you doubted she would want to deny you such pleasure. You gasped aloud when your fingers reached your entrance, surprised at how fast you’d grown so wet, but images of Natasha’s hardened expression had you clenching around just the tips of your digits.

“I’m not that deep of a sleeper, just so you know.” Natasha’s words held amusement so she wasn’t mad, but still you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes.

Reluctantly you pulled your fingers away, wiping them on your thigh as if that would erase what you were so clearly doing. “Sorry, Nat.. I just-” But she was on you before you could finish that thought, bringing you flush against her as she swallowed your worries in her kiss. Her grip on your waist was bruising and while you still squirmed, the possession in her hold was exactly what you wanted.

Still laid on your side, Natasha pulled away just enough to look at you, your skin still clearly flushed even in the darkness of the bedroom. She maneuvered your nightgown over your hips, cupping your core in her strong palm, “Poor girl, you were bad enough off that you wanted to take care of it yourself?” It was true, it was bad; usually you asked Natasha for anything, once she’d had you, nothing compared to her touch and while she didn’t have a rule about seeking relief without her, you rarely ever did. It was never as good; she’d long since ruined you for anyone else, including yourself. “You know I would be happy to help.”

Her hand ground the soaked fabric against your sensitive folds, a clear tease just to watch you moan. She could’ve done it by now, nudged the fabric aside and plunged her fingers into you, but she didn’t. And it was on purpose. “Please, Natty?” As much as she loved you and wanted your constant happiness, she had to have some of her own- it happened to manifest in loving hearing you ask for her. There was no greater rush for Natasha knowing you were fully capable of doing things yourself, but still you relied on her. Because you needed it to be her. “Please touch me, keep me- protect me.”

That was all the pleading she needed, her free hand winding about your waist and pulling until your chests were touching. Her other arm was wedged between you now, but there was enough space for Natasha to manage, ridding you of your underwear and immediately bringing her fingers to bare skin, sliding easily through your folds. You whined at her broad strokes, touching just enough to rile you, but slow enough not to get you anywhere. “You’re so wet, and all of this is for me?”

You nodded your head against the pillows, fighting the urge to close your eyes; Natasha liked it when you looked at her. “Just for you, I’m yours, just yours…” Carefully, you started to ride Natasha’s hand, grinding against her palm desperately for any type of relief. The surface was too flat, it was her, but not what you needed and it was getting borderline painful how needy you were.

Natasha only smirked, pleased with your admission, but all too smug about how little she had to do for you to be getting off so wantonly on her open hand. Normally she’d make a show of it, make you wait until you cried out for her, but you’d had a long day so she relented. “Is this what you want?” Two fingers sunk into you humiliatingly easily, stretching your hot sex with an expert touch. Her satisfaction grew with the sound of your moan, settling into a steady pace with her thrusts. “Did you like it earlier when I came to save you?” The reactive clench around her digits was a good enough answer for her. When she curled them, your body curled with them back arching as she hit the spot you never managed to hit yourself. “Do you know why I did that?”

“N-No-” Of course Natasha knew how much you’d enjoyed her little show of possession earlier, one twitch of your jaw and she knew what was going on with you. Being known so intimately down to your very core sent a shiver down your spine and you were dangerously close to losing it now. Your hips moved in time with her hand, yearning for the high you’d tried unsuccessfully to chase on your own.

“Because you’re mine.” She maneuvered you both so that you were straddling one of her thighs, sinking deeper onto her offered fingers. Far beyond caring, your forearms settled on either side of her, close enough to breathe each other’s air while you rocked yourself back in earnest. “And I always take care of my things, don’t I?” The question was punctuated with a kiss to the corner of your open mouth, “I’m the only one who gets to see or touch you like this, I’ll make sure of it.”

Carefully chosen words brought you unknowingly higher, Natasha whispering things you were sure you’d only expressed in your wildest dreams. You rocked forward against the base of her wrist fruitlessly for any type of friction, whining at the lack of pressure. She’d been so giving tonight, surely she wouldn’t deny you just one more thing, “Nat.. Nat.. Tasha, I need-” You tried to explain what your voice couldn’t with a particularly obvious movement into her hand and Natasha’s low chuckle in your ear told you she was already well aware of your needs. “Please?”

A devious thumb made its way to your sorely neglected clit, positioning it just so. Somehow Natasha made sense of your frantic actions, pistoning her hand in time with you. “There you go, take what you need. I’m the only person who can do this for you, aren’t I?” Strained noises of agreement were music to Natasha’s ears, her lips trailing down your neck to mark you further lest you forget for a moment you’re hers alone. “Fuck yourself on my fingers. I want to see you.” Your legs clamped vice tight around hers, ass pressed against her thigh as it propped you from wiggling too far away from her.

The sensations were going to be the death of you, filled with Natasha, mouth latched to that perfect spot in the hollow behind your ear, her free arm slung around your waist to make certain you didn’t stop riding her. You were so close, chasing your high with what Natasha would remember as a whorish moan. Eventually you came with a screaming cry of her name, back arching into her prone form because in some tactical way, she could still be in full control while she laid under you.

When you finally came down, you let your top half sink, arms limp as your head fell onto her chest. Her fingers left as carefully as they could, but still you whined, more from the sudden emptiness than any pain. You felt blissfully numb, sleep already threatening at the edges of your consciousness. “Thank you, Tasha… for protecting me and also.. yeah.” Already hot cheeks burned at your sudden salacious display, but Natasha craned her neck to press a kiss to your messy hair and you let your words float away.

“You only ever have to ask, sweetheart… I’m sorry I left you all alone today.” She spoke softly to preserve the moment, pulling the blanket tighter over you before you could even possibly start to get cold. But you were already gone, drifting away to dreamland and tucked safely in Natasha’s arms. Safe and sound as always.

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝

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the hotel on cadaver street blurbs masterlist

serial killer!natasha x reader

this is a dark fic: please refer to the disclaimer

summary ➞ “you act like you’re ashamed of me but you’re soaked through your clothes and it’s not because of the rain.”

disclaimer ➞ strong language, depictions of murder + blood, smut, possessive behavior, knife kink, dirty talk (praise + pet names), hints of power bottom!reader + service top!natasha, fingering

a/n ➞ nothing else compares to my love from serial killer!natasha. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3

Natasha had never been one to panic. Or frighten, even. She was a sadist whose identity had been incised by years of watching her own innocence fall away from her until there was so little humanity left that she really didn’t know if she counted as human.

So, to put it simply, it wasn’t fear that made her bones quake as she listened to the high-pitched squeak that the hotel’s basement door emitted as it opened - it was excitement.

She could hear you stall at the top of the stairs and figured it was due to the smell of blood catching your senses. Her heart - assuming she still had one - pounded in retaliation to the metal door clanking shut and the creaks of old wood under your rain-soaked footsteps that followed.

Naturally, when your feet planted onto the cement flooring, your eyes landed on her. She met your gaze, emerald headlights flashing back at you in the dark. Then, as her hand circled tighter around her knife’s handle and knuckles popped under the pressure of her grip, your eyes fell away to the pools of blood surrounding her feet.

She was proud of the horrors she had committed. If you would have opened your mouth to ask her why she had done it, she would have said it was ‘for you’ or ‘in your honor’.

The shell of a man that lie limp on the floor behind her was cold now, lost of whatever warmth had surged through his veins only hours ago. But those hours ago, he had been a lonely shadow at the end of the bar who sat a little too close to you and let his hand longer a little too long at the small of your back and let his lips get a little too eager at the lobe of your ear as your girlfriend watched from across the room.

If Natasha was sane, now would be the time that she’d start spewing with apologies and excuses as to why she’d committed such a crime. But Natasha wasn’t sane; it wasn’t the first time she’d done this and it would take a trip to hell and back for her to apologize for anything. She was always right in her own mind.

Instead, she blinked at you with hollow eyes for a number of moments as you took in the sight of her and then her lips curled into a lopsided smirk. She stepped towards you with her knife raised at her side.

Your hand shot up in an attempt to halt her steps, “You’re dirty.” She scoffed your words, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she continued her voyage towards you.

“Natasha, you’re dirty.” You repeated in annoyance when her chest collided into your outstretched hand. The blood on her shirt was warm still, coating the palm of your hand in a sea of red and you frowned before using her suit jacket to clean yourself off.

She didn’t care much for your distaste and was on you before you had the chance to do anything about it. Her head fell into the crook of your neck to nibble at your pulse point, “You like me this way.” You sucked in a puff of air through your teeth, grabbing her by the swells of her shoulders. “You’re covered in blood, Natalia!”

She smiled into your flesh at the harsh use of her real name, tongue stroking up the side of your throat and flicking against the shell of your ear. “I did this for you. That bastard was bothering you and I fixed it.” You could feel the tip of her knife graze against your stomach.

There was a lot about the situation that should have alarmed you; the blood, the crazed look in your girlfriend’s eyes, the body that you were sure was lingering somewhere in the shadows behind her. But the blade carving against the bottom hem of your shirt was not one of them.

Clink. One of your buttons went spiraling across the cement floor as she cut it free from the fabric; followed by another, and another. “I did this for you.” She repeated, softened and low as she felt the goosebumps that she had already known would rise onto your skin.

“You need to be more careful.” You cooed as you finally gave into her game and your hand found it’s place in the hair at the back of her head, fingertips massaging at her scalp. “You’ve made a mess.” You gestured at the blood behind her and the footprints from the bottoms of her boots

She didn’t mind the mess, or bother to acknowledge that you had even said anything about it. She popped the last button from your top and let it fall open to reveal you the unmarked skin of your stomach. “So pretty, my girl is.” She hummed in satisfaction, the cold metal of the blade dipping into the valley of your bellybutton.

“Thank you, baby.” You cooed, stretching your stomach towards her as the knife prodded against your skin. Her stomach leapt excitedly at your silent invitation to continue before she moved the weapon down, carefully and erotically slow, until it was slicing away at the zipper of your pants and opening the fabric to her.

Her free hand dipped into your underwear and she bathed in the breathy moan you rewarded her with when her fingers parted through your folds. “You act like you’re ashamed of me but you’re soaked through your clothes and it’s not because of the rain.” The smirk was clearly painted in her words.

Your hand came forward and wrapped around her jaw, forcing her to meet your eyes, “How about you stop talking and make it up to me proper?” You encouraged, tongue peaking out to lash against her parted lips.

She shivered and parted ways with the knife, letting it loudly clatter to the ground in harmony with your shuttered whimper as her fingers sunk into your cunt. “Gonna make you feel so good, butterfly.”

Yes, Mistress: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

A series of related fics following the relationship of the reader and her new Domme, Mistress Natasha, as they explore her sexuality and submissiveness.

Series warnings: sub/Dom dynamics, sexual themes, kink negotiations, explicit f/f content

Join a taglist here!

The Meeting -  The reader goes to a quiet café to meet Mistress Natasha in person for the first time and they talk through what she can expect from this new relationship.

Floating -  Mistress Natasha takes it easy for the reader’s first session to ease her into the release that can be expected from their time together.

Responsive -  Before their next session, Mistress Natasha picks out her sub’s outfit and then invites her to meet at the park. She rewards the reader’s good behaviour in the bathroom of a café.  

I don’t want your pity, I just want somebody near me

Natasha Romanoff x Reader 

Words: 1k 

Warnings: talks of depression/general sadness. Some swearing. Self-indulgence to the max.

A/N: This is my first fic ever so please go easy on me. Also I wrote this at 2am while listening to Mitski which is a warning all on its own.

Keep reading

Speak Up Baby.

Mommy decides to test your limits. It will of course, be fun for you.

Or

Natasha fucks you until you cry.

Warnings: Heavy general NS*FW themes, presumed mutual consent, presumed safe word, mommy kink, use of a vibrator on reader, use of a strap on- on reader, use of bondage (ropes) on reader, reader gets breasts played with, overstimulation, reader gets manhandled by Natasha, reader cries from pleasure and overstim, mentioned edging, reader begs to stop, clitoral and gspot over stimulation, reader sucks on Natasha’s breasts, multiple orgasms, reader gets called a sl*ut, sweet heart, baby and kotenok, Natasha gets called mommy once, no pronouns are used for reader, reader has a pus*sy and breasts

Note you do not have permission to translate and or repost this story thank you :)

It’s straight up just porn lmao💀 It was inspired by one of @nermalina ’s posts but I couldn’t find it😪 I just woke up when I posted this so apologies for any errors, I hope you enjoy :)💕

Asking for permission

The sounds of your whines and whimpers were smothered into mommy’s breasts as you suckled on them, the couples vibrator inside you sending waves of pleasure into your swollen clit and gspot. Your arms were tightly and expertly bound behind you by a stunning crimson red dyed jute rope. It managed to be soft and worn in, while still being rough enough to hold you still and to leave reddened marks.

The coolness of the bed sheets sank into your bare legs, a puddle of your cum dripping off Natasha’s thigh. Mommy had decided to try and see how many times you could cum before passing out after edging you for hours, and you had already done so about three times.

Keep reading