Mel X Cait As Doechii X Jennie

Day 90 cleansing the #caitvi tl

Family time either baby Cathy cat

Kofi

WAAAAAAAA I looooooooovvveeee 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 & 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

summary : raised in the heart of the countryside, you, Y/N Langford, has always known the rhythm of ranch life—early mornings on horseback, sun-drenched vineyards, and a quiet kind of freedom carved into the land passed down through generations. however, your father's recent colleague is interesting enough.

genre : country!au, wlw, countryside life.

warnings : beefy!nat, top!nat, sub!reader, age-gap (r is 24 and nat is 32).

words count : 2.6k

𖦹 part one 𖦹

HORSES & ROMANCE :

— Baked Goods & Conversations

📍Langford's Estate,

Clare Valley, Southern Australia

The sun rose slow over the rolling hills of Langford Ranch, lighting up the sea of golden grass and rows of early-spring grapevines like it had every morning for as long as you could remember.

It painted the landscape in brush strokes of amber and coral, and even though you'd seen it a thousand times before, it never lost its magic.

You leaned against the fence post, one boot perched on the lower rail, the familiar weight of your cowgirl hat tipped just enough to shield your eyes. The morning breeze brought with it the scent of hay, dew, and something sweet—probably the peach trees blooming behind the barn.

Your mare, Alba, huffed behind you, nudging at your shoulder with the soft impatience only a horse could get away with.

"Alright, alright," You chuckled, patting Alba's muzzle. "You'd think I forgot breakfast was a sacred ritual around here."

The sound of boots on gravel made you turn. Your father, Georges Langford, was walking up from the lower fields with his usual purposeful gait— sun-baked, worn-in, and always moving like the land wouldn't let him sit still for too long.

The man was the backbone of Langford Ranch and he looked it —broad-shouldered, silver at the temples, with lines carved deep from years of working under sun and storm alike.

"Mornin', sunshine," He greeted, pulling off his hat to wipe his brow.

"Mornin', Dad. Thought you were checking fence lines today?"

"I was. Had Carter do the west end. That post by the creek needs more than nails—it needs a prayer."

You grinned. "Doesn't everything out here?"

You both stood in comfortable silence for a beat, eyes drifting across the property. The vineyards curved along the hills like ribbons, and the stables were starting to come alive with movement—hooves on wood, snorts in the air, Carter hollering something at the barn cat.

Georges cleared his throat, one hand resting on his belt.

"By the way," he began, in that tone he used when he was about to drop something mildly important but wanted it to sound casual, "We've got someone movin' into one of the guest houses tomorrow."

At the news, you arched a brow. "Oh, yeah? One of the hands?"

"No. She's not a ranch hand. She's a colleague, technically. Been working in livestock management and field logistics the past few years—real sharp, real quiet. Does good work, and I could use the extra brain with the contracts we've got coming up. She'll be helping out part-time on the cattle rotation too."

"She?"

Georges gave a grunt of acknowledgment. "Her name's Natasha Romanoff. Comes with strong references—worked some rough terrain in Texas and Idaho. Kept to herself but got a rep for being dependable. Heard about her through Greg Havens. You remember him, used to run those horse clinics down in Abilene?"

"Sure. He's the one who taught Brandy how to sit for carrots."

You replied casually, looking over at Alba as you fed her a carrot. She gruffed quietly, then you ran you other free hand over her muzzle to soothe whatever was threatening to upset her.

Georges nodded, chuckling. "Same guy. He vouched for her, and that's good enough for me."

You bit the inside of your cheek thoughtfully.

New faces weren't exactly common out here—Langford Ranch didn't have a revolving door. People came, worked, and stayed for seasons, sometimes years. Others never left. So someone moving into one of the guesthouses —someone your father trusted enough to share work and land with— wasn't something you could ignore.

"She know what she's walking into?" You questioned, "This place isn't exactly a weekend retreat."

Georges smirked, the kind of smile that meant he was already ten steps ahead, patting Alba's head in a gentle manner. "She's got boots older than Carter. She'll manage."

A low whistle went past your lips. "Well, damn. Guess we'll see."

He started walking back toward the barn, calling over his shoulder, "And don't scare her off before she even unpacks."

"No promises!" You hollered back, grinning as you turned to your horse. "What do you think, Albs? Sounds like trouble to me."

Your chestnut mare whinnied, flicking her tail like she agreed.

The sun kept rising, golden over the fields, and you found yourself staring in the direction of the empty guest house—the one with the white porch swing and the wraparound view of the west hills.

You had no idea what this Natasha Romanoff looked like. But something in your chest shifted—a quiet hum of interest, like the first stirrings of wind before a storm.

Not that you minded a little storm now and then.

Especially if it came with sharp eyes, rolled-up sleeves, and a story worth unfolding.

🎀 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 🎀

The vineyard stretched endlessly, rows upon rows of grapevines curling around the earth like veins of the land itself.

The estate had been in the Langford's hands for generations, a legacy carried through the years by blood, sweat, and a relentless passion for the soil beneath their feet.

To those who visited, it was a picturesque sanctuary, a symbol of hard work and perseverance. But to the Langford's, it was everything—family, history, and identity.

Natasha had been in the business of wine for a while now, though her path to the Langford Estate was as unconventional as she was. A successful winemaker in her own right, Natasha was known for her larger-than-life presence, a woman whose strength was both literal and figurative.

With arms built from years of physical labor and a back as strong as any farmer's, she was an imposing figure, even among the burly, weathered men and women who worked in the vineyards.

She was no stranger to hard work, though her reputation often preceded her—a reputation built on an iron will, business acumen, and a certain raw magnetism that pulled people in, even when they weren't sure they wanted to be.

The guest house she had been owning for almost a day sat on ten acres of mostly flat earth. It had a porch that creaked under her boots and a wind chime made of spoons that clinked gently in the breeze. It was a fixer-upper. Natasha liked fixing things.

The redhead stretched her arms above her head, boots scuffing against the wood of her porch as she eyed the grass lining the front.

Her flannel clung lightly to her frame from the morning work, sleeves rolled up, exposing strong forearms. She had been there all of twenty minutes when she heard the distant sound of an engine, then a dog barking. She glanced toward the road and there you were, driving a red ford pick-up truck, the golden retriever settled in the passenger seat.

Natasha leaned one shoulder against the porch column as she watched you cut the engine, arms crossed, eyes scanning with interest. Not even trying to hide it. 

"You must be the new neighbor," You spoke up, stepping out of the vehicle before letting your dog out. "Heard from my father that someone finally brought the Cross property."

The elder woman's lip curled. "Is that what they call it?" 

"Sure is," You held up the basket of warm goodies you held in hand. "I brought you some cinnamon rolls. Freshly homemade from this morning."

She raised an eyebrow, stepping down to meet you. "Cinnamon rolls? Are you trying to seduce me already?" 

You smirked, "Damn, you catch on fast."

The redhead smirked, taking the basket from your hands. Her fingers brushed yours, rough calluses meeting warm skin. If Ethan Langford was a great co-worker to be around, she was sure she'd appreciate his daughter's company, maybe a little too much. "Name's Natasha."

You introduced yourself next, and she let the name roll around in her mind, pairing it with your smile. It suited you. There was a light to you -- an ease. Nat hadn't felt ease in a long time. 

You tilted your head, gaze sweeping over her like you were sizing her up. And who wouldn't? Biceps under sun-kissed skin, a scar just over her eyebrow, so faint that you would've missed it if you didn't look so closely, and the kind of posture that said she didn't run from anything. You chewed on the inside of your bottom lip and cleared your throat. 

"You're planning on staying around more often?" 

"Depends," Natasha replied, eyes steady on yours. "You planning on bringing me baked goods every day?"

You shrugged. "Maybe. Depends on if you're worth the flour."

She laughed as you turned to go with a smirk, your dog trailing behind. You called out while walking back to the pickup. 

"Nice meeting you, Natasha." 

"Believe me," The redhead called back, watching the sway of your hips. "The pleasure was all mine."

🎀 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 🎀

The scent of warm earth filled the air as midday settled across Langford Ranch.

The sun rode high above the valley, glinting off metal fence posts and the waxy leaves of grapevines stretching in neat rows as far as the eye could see.

Georges Langford’s voice cut through the quiet as he stood beside Natasha Romanoff, gesturing out over the vast spread of land like a king showing off his kingdom.

“This vineyard’s been in my family for four generations. My great-grandfather planted the first vines himself back in the early 1900s. Clare Valley wasn’t what it is now. Just dry heat and stubborn soil.”

Natasha listened, eyes scanning the curves of the land, the way each line of vines bent gently with the slope. “You’ve made something out of it.”

“We didn’t have much choice,” he replied with a chuckle. “We were Langfords before we were winemakers. And Langfords don’t quit easy.”

They paused at the vineyard’s edge, where symmetrical rows of early-season vines curled along the gentle hillsides like organized chaos. The sun cast their shadows long between the rows, and Georges ran a hand along a twisted vine like it was part of his body.

“These grapes—Shiraz, mostly—go into the reserve reds we bottle each March. We sell local, export some to the States. My wife—God rest her soul—used to say you could taste the earth in every drop.”

An old well house nearby that had been converted into a wine cellar, its stones weathered by time, came into view.

He pointed out the fermentation shed, the mechanical harvester they only used in a pinch, and the solar panels that lined the western slope.

“Hard to imagine this place any other way,” The Russian admitted.

“That’s how you know it’s in your blood,” Georges said, glancing sideways at her. “You start seeing it not just as land, but as story. As legacy.”

He paused to pick up a handful of dry earth, let it sift through his fingers.

“You got family, Natasha?”

She hesitated. “Not in the way most people mean it.”

He didn’t press further. Just nodded like he understood and changed the subject.

They continued past the cattle paddocks—wide, open pastures edged with eucalyptus trees—where Georges pointed out the rotational system they used for grazing. Natasha absorbed every detail, asking questions here and there, sharp and precise. She didn’t talk much, but when she did, it was clear she’d done her homework.

When they came up the path near the back stables, Georges paused, brow furrowing slightly.

“There she is,” he said, and the redhead followed his gaze.

You were across the field, just beyond the fence, seated effortlessly atop Alba. The mare’s coat shimmered like brushed copper under the midday sun, and your posture was easy, confident. One hand rested lightly on the reins, the other lifting to wave when you noticed them.

The wind lifted your hat slightly, sending loose strands of hair brushing across your face. Romanoff’s eyes lingered.

“Y/N grew up in that saddle,” Georges said with a hint of pride. “Taught her how to ride before she could tie her own boots. Girl’s got her mother’s balance and her own kind of grit.”

Natasha didn’t answer immediately. She watched as you guided Alba into a smooth canter, posture fluid, in perfect rhythm with the horse. You rode like you belonged there. Like the land bent to you out of love, not force.

Georges watched his daughter for a beat, pride softening the lines of his face.

“She grew up on that horse,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Alba was born the same spring Y/N turned three. They're a pair, those two. I swear that horse listens to her better than most people.”

“She’s got good instincts,” She finally murmured, her eyes locked on your figure.

“That she does,” Langford agreed. “She knows this land better than anyone alive. And don’t let her fool you—she acts like she’s all mischief and cinnamon rolls, but she’s got steel under all that charm.”

Nat smirked faintly. “I noticed.”

You trotted over, reigning Alba in just a few feet from the fence. You slid off

the horse in one smooth motion, boots landing in the dust with a satisfying thud. The redhead watched the way you walked—loose, unhurried, confident.

“Everything alright with the tour?” You asked, brushing dust off your jeans.

“Your dad runs a tight ship,” Natasha said. “Impressive place.”

You nodded, offering a small, proud smile. “It’s home. And a hell lot of work.”

There was something in the way you said it—not arrogance, but ownership. Natasha respected that. She respected people who didn’t just show up, but showed up for the land, for the animals, for the legacy.

You scratched behind Alba’s ear, then looked at Natasha again. Your voice quietening but also softening as you spoke.

“You settling in okay?”

She nodded, “Starting to.”

“Well,” You began, “if you ever need anything...wine, fence wire, conversation—I’m usually around.”

The way you said conversation was light, but it wasn’t nothing. The Russian caught it, held it for a second, then let it pass.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” She said, voice low.

Your father cleared his throat, clearly sensing something unspoken pass between the two of you. “Alright, I’ll leave you two to flirt while I go pretend I’ve got paperwork to do.”

“Dad,” You said flatly, cheeks blooming a hint of color.

Natasha just chuckled, deeply amused. “Thanks for the tour, Georges.”

"And also, we always have dinner out on the porch around six-thirty. Nothing fancy, but real food and even better company. You’re more than welcome, Red.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” She tilted her head for a nod.

He tipped his hat. “Try not to let her talk your ear off.”

And with that, he walked off toward the barn, leaving the two of you standing under the shade of the gum trees, horses grazing nearby, breeze rustling through the dry grass.

Natasha followed the curve of your form as you walked—long legs, dust on your boots, and a playful tilt to your hips that didn’t feel like an accident.

You glanced back at Natasha, a lopsided smile playing on your lips. “So,” you said, brushing back a windblown strand of hair, “You going to take the dinner invite?”

“Maybe.”

You looked her up and down, not shy. “I’d recommend it. My grandma’s lasagna recipe still makes grown men cry.”

Natasha huffed a quiet laugh, her expression unreadable. “You always this charming?”

You leaned against the fence casually. “Only when I know it works.”

For a moment, the wind quieted. The dog—Cooper—came loping up the trail behind you, flopped down in the dirt, tongue out and panting.

Natasha looked down at him, then back up at you. “Guess I’ll see you tonight.”

With a nod, you concluded, “Looking forward to it.”

And somewhere deep inside Natasha, something settled—like boots finding firm ground.

She hadn’t come here looking for anything beyond work and quiet. But life, like land, had a way of growing things you didn’t expect.

➪ next part.

Red doesn't scare me

Natasha Romanoff/Reader

Summary — You’ve been feeling miserable all day—cramps, fatigue, and the overwhelming discomfort of your period making you want nothing more than to curl up and disappear. You assume Natasha, ever the attentive lover, will simply cuddle you and help ease your pain. But when she notices the way your body reacts to her touch, she makes it clear that she’s not about to let a little blood stop her from giving you exactly what you need.

Warning(s) — Mentions of blood, smut, swearing, fingering, cunnilingus, sex during period, nipple play, strap on, have i already mentioned sex during period?

Notes — I hope you guys can please forgive some of my spelling mistakes, cuz english is not my first language. I hope you enjoy this fic.

The pain hits you like a thousand Trojan horses piercing your abdomen, making you shiver—bend over, bringing your cold hands to the beginning of your abdomen where the pain started.

Menstrual cramps. Thats the name of the devil who's tormenting your life for the past few days.

A grunt escapes your lazy lips as you feel another twinge, clutching your heating pad tightly against you.

You felt miserable, the pain was too intense for you to even be able to do normal things like cook or make your bed, and the fatigue was also something that you deep down hated at the moment. The overwhelming sensations running through your body almost resulted in an internal scream.

At that moment, you wanted nothing more than to disappear, for the pain to stop and for you to be able to walk normally again without feeling like a waterfall was pouring down your legs at that very moment.

Your girlfriend has been with you for about two years now, and whenever your time of the month came around she made sure to spoil you in the best way possible, be it with chocolate, ice cream, flowers, stuffed animals or even your favorite food.

Natasha didn't have to deal with this kind of thing because she had her uterus ripped out at a very young age, but even though she couldn't even imagine the pain you felt, she made sure to treat you in the best way possible, even if you were in an extremely bad mood.

You remember curling up under the covers crying after another blast of pain hit you, but your hero came home right after with two chocolate bars and a stuffed hamster with googly eyes that played a song when you squeezed it. That was your favorite gift.

There was another time she took the day to give you a personal spa day, massaging your back, belly, feet. She spreaded the lotion over your body gingerly, loving every one of your sighs of tension relief.

Overall, she was a good girlfriend—a great girlfriend. You had nothing to complain about... except that during that time of the month your mind didn't bother to stop and think before grumbling, which is exactly a good example of the current moment.

Natasha held a cup in her right hand, her other hand pouring the hot chocolate into the cup with ease and care, humming an internal lullaby as she felt the heat take over the palm of her hand.

You on the other hand, impatient, kicked the air in an angry and impatient way. Natasha's said it wouldn't take long, however ten minutes have passed and you already miss the warmth of her body against yours.

Natasha smiles, listening to the sound of you shifting around, placing the jug on the table before she turns around, dragging her feet to the bedroom, where little by little the clear view of you sprawled on the bed reveals itself.

You hear the sound of footsteps, your attentive ears moving attentively as you dig your head out of the pillow. A pout trembles on your pink lips as you have your half-lidded eyes looked towards your girlfriend who now enters the room with a soft smile on her lips.

"You're late..." You grumbled, your voice coming out as nothing more than a hoarse and extremely sly murmur.

A playful smile reaches the avenger's lips and she clicks her tongue in the raw of her mouth before sneaking to the edge of the bed, placing your cup of hot chocolate on the nightstand before sneaking to your side, lying down there.

Natasha wraps her hands around your waist, leaving a kiss on your fluffy cheek as she assumes the bigger spoon position.

"Humpf!" You mumble, turning your neck to the opposite side, avoiding even looking at the strands of red curls that brushed against your shoulders.

"It didn't even take me that long, moya milaya." You heard her whisper against the foot of your ear, making you shiver at the deep—husky tone of your girlfriend's voice.

You try to look unfazed, the grimace on your face slowly dissipating in a failed attempt when you felt her lips against your cheek and then your forehead, her red curls covering your vision due to the position she was now leaning in.

"You're tense, detka." She cooed behind you, hands now sliding towards your sore shoulders and massaging the area in slow and circular motions, watching the way you shrank against her even if unconsciously, making the spy smile proudly.

"You did so great today—handled the pain so obediently my dear. You should stop being a little grumpy now and let mommy take care of you, huh?" She whispered before placing a kiss on the corner of your lips, wrapping one of her legs around yours as she moved closer, you in response snuggling closer without even resisting.

When your eyes close slightly, Natasha smiles, clenching her eyes and surrounding your neck with her lips, hands moving down from your shoulders to your back, continuing the frequency of a slow and delicate massage.

Your back arches against her instantly, butt against her pelvis as the pain you seemed to be feeling fades away for that moment.

"Shhh, that's it, let me take care of everything." Romanoff murmurs against your neck, sliding her hands to your hip and then thigh, leaving a silent squeeze in the place she secretly enjoyed so much.

You swallow hard, bucking against her unconsciously, body trembling at the unexpected touch as your lips part and you frown, nose wrinkling in the process.

You expected her to stop at just kissing your face and caressing your shoulders, but the way she slid her hand to the inner part of your thigh said otherwise.

Your body stiffened, air escaping from your hollow lungs as you pressed your fingertips against your lips, biting them deliberately in anxiety, eyebrows curved downwards as you let out a low sigh.

"Oh?" you heard the whisper behind your ear, the hands that until then were below rising a little upwards without shame, Natasha's sharp smile opening against the skin of your neck as she sniffed deeply at your smell.

Your head short-circuits when you heard a giggle in the background, cheeks rising upwards as they acquire a pink hue, lips pressed together as if they were glue.

"What's that? Hm?" She hummed, running her other hand down the line of your spine, savoring your little spasms.

You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, lips parting in a shaky sigh before you begin to speak. “Nat, I—I'm on my period.” You mumbled, cheeks warming even more in embarrassment.

The redhead could only smirk, eyes darkening with something dangerously—enticing. “And? That’s supposed to stop me from making you feel good?” Her voice travels like cotton, softening your eardrums in an angelic way.

You try to protest, lips open in a shape of 'O', but even before you could say anything she silences you up, arms sliding towards your hips once again and crawling up to get face to face with you, lips metting yours with a slow, heated kiss, her touch in your hips turning more insistent.

Every doubt you had melts away as she reassures you in the way only she can—by showing you exactly how much she wants you, without hesitation or restraint.

Natasha is a former assassin, did you really thought that bloodshots would be enough to restrain her? At most, it would make her even more excited.

The spy takes her time worshiping you, her lips exploring yours hungrily, tongue invading your mouth with ferocity. And her hands, oh those slender finger were exploring every inch of your body now, running towards your belly and scratching the place slightly, making you forget all about the discomfort you felt before. She’s relentless in her devotion, whispering praises against your lips, letting you know just how much she loves seeing you beneath her, no matter the circumstances. "Oh baby look at you, so needy."

Oh but you're so into it, the way her hands slide from your stomach to your thighs once more, lifting her lips from yours for a tiny second, only to slide once more to your neck, this time placing wet kisses all over the region. Tongue sliding down your throat while occasionally nibbling on the spot and making a small sucking noise with her lips.

You definitely weren't hating this despite your brain objecting in the worst possible way.

You feel your body being turned upwards, your hands running up to your girlfriend's neck and wrapping around it like vines, legs spread like sheets of paper. You feel Natasha's hands go down to your knees, now she was completely on top of you, one of her hands going from your knee to the height of your stomach, smoothing the very sensitive area.

You tried to close your legs in instinc but something was stopping you. One of her legs was pressing against the inside of your thigh, keeping it open easily.

Now you felt her hands going up to the buttons of your white pajama top, sparing no effort in quickly undoing it, exposing your chest.

Romanoff raises one hand to your left mound, thumb dragging against the nipple that was hardened by the icy wind coming from outside the window.

The way her finger drags over your skin sends shockwaves through your entire being. Torso rising slightly before you could even issue a small noise from your trembling lips.

You wanted to feel more, the beast inside you growing like never before, lips parting in a half-closed shape, eyes narrowed as you fixed your orbs against the face of your beloved who was now leaning close to your torso.

Natasha licks her lower lip before smiling, holding back a small laugh. Her red lips meet the tip of your breast, lightly biting the area before deflating her cheeks for a light suction.

You huff softly in discomfort, feeling your nipple twist within your girlfriend's nimble lips.

She nibbled you, kissing right after it, in the end alternating between these movements just to drive you crazy.

Still not satisfied enough, she decides to tease your other mound.

Her hands grabbed one of your breasts from below while she gently massaged the area, now kissing the other side without any imminent rush.

Your nipples were now sensitive from the stimulation, hands curling in Natasha's red curls like ivy. You felt like you were on the clouds now, as if her touch was like cotton against the silk of your skin.

Milky thighs try to close once more, this time due to the fact that you feel her hands moving down from your breasts to the beginning of your stomach, scratching the area near your hip before tugging on the hem of your grey pants.

Natasha's deft tongue drags along your torso, from your raised chest to your belly button, nibbling playfully on your belly, her smile sharp against your skin.

your throat scratches in surprise as you feel that she was pulling your pants down, an extreme blush rising faintly to your cheeks, eyes widening in a mix of fear and anticipation.

The spy looks up, eyes locking with yours intensely before she can raise an eyebrow. "Afraid of a bit ot red, detka?" She snorted, lips up in a wicked smile. "Don't worry, red doesn't scare me, especially if it's yours." She muttered softly, that wicked smile turning into something soft for a few mere seconds before she pulled went back to pull your pants down once again.

You bring your hands to your face, covering your own eyes, unable to face the scene about to happen.

Natasha pulls your pants down totally, throwing it to some random part of the room, too focused on the task at hand to care about where it would land on.

Her hands go to your knees, keeping both legs open so she could work better.

Your girlfriend smiles as she observes the much desired spot between your legs. A slight bulge in there from the fact that you were probably using a pad, Not that she cared about that, it would soon go to the trash and something much more pleasurable would be between your legs.

You tremble in anticipation, feeling Natasha's slender fingers run up your legs to the edge of your panties, slowly pulling the garment down, as if she was enjoying your little show of panic.

You both had time, so why not tease you a little, right?

You feel the garment being pulled down slowly and torturously, dragging itself over your thighs, knees and finally your feet, until you are left completely exposed with your legs wide open.

You feel the wind blow against your exposed sex, not only the feeling of excitement that seemed stronger as time passed.

Natasha smiles in satisfaction, observing the reddish place, a mixture of arousal and the reddish liquid that ran from inside you.

She steps closer, biting her lower lip as she admires the reddish beauty between your legs.

For Natasha, that wasn't disgusting, it never would be, it was a part of you that she would always love, after all, every month you gushed her favorite color, and in fact, whether you like it or not, it's healthy, and what she was about to do relieves cramps.

You feel the warm air brush against your intimacy, drawing a sigh that was soon replaced by a small cry of surprise when you felt your girlfriend's lips hitting your center.

It was quick, your eyes covered, making it impossible for you to get a sense of her next steps.

Natasha can't contain her smile, lips now smeared in the crimson liquid, sliding her tongue against your slit like a thirsty vampire would.

Your legs threaten to close, once again being held back by Natasha who uses just one hand to stop you.

The other dominant hand finds its way to your sex, dragging the index finger over your sensitive nerve, pulling a small whimper from your lips.

You open a gap between your fingers, opening one of your eyes to observe the erratic scene before you.

Natasha was completely stained red, her face now smeared the same amount as the hand she now used to explore your entrance.

You hear a soft—incoherent whisper, and then you feel your insides being invaded by just one finger, her lips now rising to your sensitized bundle of nerves, lightly nibbling the spot before finally sucking it lightly.

Natasha slides her tongue against the spot, sometimes licking, sometimes kissing, her finger now pumping inside you slowly, stretching you slowly and carefully to not to hurt you.

She thrusts in and out slowly, curling her finger a little every now and then as she drags her long nails against your inner walls lightly wich makes you shiver.

Your eyes lock again, this time you bring your hands to the blanket, hugging it as if your life depended on it, feeling yourself drip against her lips, not knowing if it was your own arousal or your menstrual flow.

Never in the world would that be disgusting to Natasha.

She pump her finger inside you with ease, slowly adding the second finger as she masterfully ministers her movements.

She had a heavy hand, cupping your sex as if it were the most delicate thing in the world, but at the same time she made sure to make you feel good.

Your lips part as you feel her slide in easily, starting to move slowly inside you, your inner walls kneading her fingers.

You wanted more—needed more. You try to beg your lips parted as you try to whisper something inaudible. "More..." You squeaked lightly.

"Oh, do you?" *Natasha murmurs against your sex, giving your bundle of nerves one last kiss before lifting her chin up, looking up at your face, taking in your watery eyes and heaving chest.

Your uncontrolled breathing makes the hairs on the spy's back stand on end, a devilish smile playing on her lips as she adjusts her position better, tongue going back down on you.

You bite your lower lip as you feel the speed changing, acquiring a continuous and rapid frequency. You release her name from your lips in a drawn-out moan that drives your girlfriend crazy. You seemed much more sly than usual, and she loved it.

You bury the side of your head into the pillow, breathing heavily as she thrusts continuously, soon building a coil deep in your stomach.

Natasha seemed to feel it by the way you were moving against her and your hips seemed to grind even more needy against her. "Nuh uh, hold it." She grunted softly, biting the tip of your clit as a warning, slowing her movements as she made sure to stimulate you even more.

Romanoff curls her fingers into a hook shape, tongue sliding towards your slit and acquiring more of your liquid on her hungry lips.

Everything seemed slow around you, your lower lip bruised from biting so much now made everything a little more exciting, sweat running down your forehead and down your neck, Natasha's agile hands giving you the pleasure you were looking for but at the same time edging you, taking away that feeling that you were close off your arms.

You grunt softly in response to her speech, in denial—dissatisfaction. "Humpf!" You purr, trying to move your hips for more friction, feeling Natasha pull out of you in a single movement, the 'Swoop' noise being heard at that exact moment, juices and blood coating her fingers.

Natasha clicks her tongue in her mouth, "Tsk." staring at her fingers in delight before she lets out a sigh. "You're impatient, aren't you? But don't worry, it's okay. I can do better than that."

The moment those words leave Natasha's lips, you close your eyes, containing an internal smile, shortly after hearing the sound of a zipper followed by clothes falling to the floor.

When you open your eyes again, you have the vision of Natasha on top of you, her breasts pressed against yours roughly as something noticeable rests against your thigh. "Good thing I've prepared myself this morning." She whispered, tongue rolling against her lips playfully.

You frown, being interrupted from your train of thought when you look down, watching the tip of the reddish toy brush against your thigh, slowly pulling it closer to your intimacy.

Oh you were fucked, in both senses.

"Now you don't need to hold yourself, pretty thing." Natasha sighs, lips coming close to your ear before nibbling on your earlobe, sliding the tip of the strap over your bundle of nerves and then your folds.

When you stop to take a deep breath you feel the toy slide all at once inside, eliciting a soft yelp from your lips as your body jerks forward with the rough—rude act.

"Tasha!" You scream, hands going to her back in a trembling way, feeling your walls knead the toy from the invasion, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Hm? Isn't that what you wanted?" Your girlfriend hissed, voice velvety as her lips curved into a wicked smile.

Then it starts to move, almost as if it were tearing in but fitting perfectly inside you, the tip hitting the end of your slit sending a wave of pleasure through your body.

Your hands go up to her neck, face partially buried in the pillow while this time you don't hold back your moans, affectionately calling Natasha's name as she guides the toy in and out of you slowly.

The tips of your toes curled, meanwhile Romanoff smiled wider and wider as she watched you tremble beneath her, she loved to see you crumble.

At the same time, you felt that what was in you would be enough, and with every second that passed with her moving inside you in a torturous way, you knew you wanted more, and Natasha knew it, she always knew.

"Natty... Please." You moan softly, legs shaking as you lift yourself up a little, trying to capture her lips in a kiss but missing by a few seconds.

"Oh yeah? Well you asked for it, malyshka." Natasha hummed before starting to increase her speed, slowly getting faster with each passing second, this time enough to knock all the air out of your lungs.

She begins to pump in and out quickly and accurately, moaning slightly as her expression seems to straighten into a serious one. "Fuck baby, look at you, so needy." Romanoff murmurs hoarsely, increasing her speed even more in response to seeing how you trembled at her voice, your reactions being like a show of angels playing for her.

She doesn't stop, continuing with her precise and careful movements, loving every thin moan that escaped your lips.

For Natasha, that was melody, just giving her fuel to continue to firmly thrust the toy inside you, fast and agile, a cunning smile on the spy's lips in a knowing form.

Her eyebrows furrow, watching your eyes close and open repeatedly in ecstasy, saliva nearly escaping your lips.

You choke on your own saliva, feeling the toy hit your sweet spot not once but repeatedly, and it doesn't take long for you to feel that twinge deep down once again, a coil sensation building up.

She saw the way you shivered against her, eyes closed tightly as your eyebrows drew together and lips parted in an 'o' shape. It was all so intense with Natasha, all so raw and delicious.

She continues thrusting inside you in a pure and electric way, emitting a low grunt when she realizes that your inner walls are squeezing the toy tightly. The base of the toy hitting against your own intimacy in a pleasurable friction for both of you.

You scream for the spy, her name flowing from your lips like a stream of water.

Her chest inflated and deflated repeatedly, her once pale lips now pink as she thrust continuously, without even a break.

You like how rough she was, pulling little screams from you every now and then, but at the same time she treated you with tenderness, lowering her bloody lips to your chest, kissing each of your mounds as she goes in and out of you.

The sensation that was now finishing building inside you was perfect, the bed banging against the wall and the sound of her hips crashing against yours sent waves of shock and pleasure through your body, lips parted letting moans escape.

Natasha nibbles on the tip of your breast, Hands gripping your waist like vines, arms wrapping around your, taking advantage of your arched back.

You try to announce that you are close to your climax, stuttering something incoherently. But Natasha understood you well, she knew you, so it doesn't take much for her to start thrusting faster, this time sticking her lips against your neck.

You feel the friction of your heat against her toy, too strong to handle, the beast inside you desperate for release, announcing how close you were. Lips trembling and moans hoarse and drawn out, nails scratching your girlfriend's back as you felt her thrust fast enough to make you see stars.

As you felt the toy once again hit your sweet spot, you felt yourself finally reach your peak, moaning her name in a slurred manner as you came undone against her in a strong stream.

Natasha smiled, slowing down her movements just a little, still guiding you towards your orgasm peacefully, milking you for every last drop.

By the time she’s done, slidding off of you, you’re breathless, completely spent in the best way possible. Natasha simply grins, pressing a kiss to your jaw before pulling you close, fingers going against her slit soaked by her fluids just to play with the liquid. “See?” she murmurs. “Red’s always been my color.”

APPRECIATION POST FOR ALL OF NAT’S DIFFERENT HAIR STYLES CAUSE GOD DAMN

(Her curly hair moments will always be my favs)

˗ˏˋ♡ˎˊ˗nat ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

as sweet as a peach

Paring: Innocent!reader x dads!friend!Nat

Summery: You and the friend of your dad happened to have a pretty close relationship

Warnings: SMUT, clit play, dom!Nat, sub!reader, masturbation, dry humping, oral, praise kink, degradation kink, slut shaming?, pervy!Nat?, Nat fingering a peach, age gap (legal)

Word count: 1.4k

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

Masterlist

ꕀꕀ ─── ⋆⋅ ✨🌞✨ ⋅⋆─── ꕀꕀ

“Those peaches” She reached out for one of the sweet fruits hanging from the old tree “Can I eat them” she smiled at me, a smile she wore like a mask to hide her true evil intentions. “Uhm… sure go ahead” I still couldn’t look her in the eyes, to big was the fear of what the older women might make me feel in the deepest pits of my stomach “Are you still in school sweetheart?”

“Do you want a bite bunny” She wiped over her mouth with the back of her hand as she reaches the other one out for me to take the peach. The forbidden fruit I shouldn’t dare to try but I was dying to do so. I took a bite, the juice dripping from the conners of my pinkish lips “It’s delicious isn’t it” her voice was softer trying to make me feel safe and secured in her presence. I fell for those feelings. I wanted her to make me feel safe and sound “It’s really sweet” I broke the awkward silence as Natasha got behind me, her veiny hands caressing my hips “You are gonna be a good girl for me right” she breathed against my ear making shivers run down my neck right to my core, making me feel a feeling that I had never experienced before. I hummed in response and I could feel my cheeks heating up. Her hands found their way future down, over my skirt right to the end of the fabric making that weird feeling inside me grow and grow. “I think I gotta go now” my voice came l more shaky then I had intended. Before Natasha could say anything I had already freed myself and ran off feeling as if I would melt if she had her hands on me a minute later. Leaving Natasha standing there utterly confused.

Sweat runs down my forehead as my hips keep rutting against the pillow between my legs like I was a bitch in heat. Soft whines and whimpers falling from my lips as I tried my best to make this feeling stop. Why did she have to make me feel that way? My hips got faster as I grew wetter and wetter and I felt my release coming in sight. I was in a trance only realizing how far gone I was when I moaned her name. I didn’t realize what I had done until I could hear the screeching noise of my door opening. I tried my best to cover my nude form with a blanket but it was to late. Natasha already had that smirk on her lips as she quietly closed the door behind her locking it “I’m so sorry- I- I” I tried to stutter something out “It’s okay bunny, you’re a girl with needs” she approached my bed with slow steps like a predator its prey “I can help you with your little need down there. Just say yes and I will make it all go away”

My eyes were still avoiding her tall form trying to hide my ever growing blush. I wanted her, I really did but could I do this with the friend of my father? “I want your help” my voice was still shaking. Natasha kicked off her leather shoes and crawled over to me taking my chin making me look at her. She kissed me passionately still hovering over my smaller form she pushed her tongue inside my mouth dancing with mine remained her dominance over me. Her wet kisses move down my neck searching for my sweet spot. She proceeded to nibble and softly biting at my skin. She strong hand pushed me back down onto my pastel pink sheets making sure I stay put. She sat up next to me unbuttoning her linen bluse revealing a red lacy bra “What do we have here uh?” She said in a teasing voice as she pulled the blanket from my exposed body her eyes landing on the wet patch on the pillow “You poor girl. All sticky and hot down there and nothing helps let me take care of you bunny” I nodded shamefully making her chuckle.

Her hands slipped over my stomach to my vulvar. Her hand finding its way to my erected clit pocking out of its hood. She began to rub over the slippery bundle of nerves making me yelp. Her fingers being a stark contrast to the rough fabric of my pillow who made my clit so sensitive . I could help but let out whimpers and whines buckling my hips only for them to be pressed down by the older woman “Na Na Na those stay down bunny” she said in a teasing voice. The older women had won all control over me, making me be at her mercy “‘M gonna eat that little pussy of yours. Let’s see if you are as sweet as a peach” she groaned as she got between my legs. She licked a bold strip from the end of my cunt right to my overstimulated clit. Swirling her tongue around it before sucking it. Making me scream. She immediately pulled away pressing her hands over my mouth “Be quiet for me bunny we don’t want your dad to find you here right? Whoring yourself out like the little slut you are” Her words weren’t hurtful, they were arousing me even more. I wanted to be her slut, her whore.

I nodded my eyes screwed shut as she kept licking and sucking at me making me see stars. The coil in my stomach grew and grew. Until Natasha bit down on my clit softly making me squirt all over her neck and chest. She chuckled lightly after helping me through my orgasms “Who would’ve thought my sweet bunny is a squirter” My checks redden and I look at Natasha my arousal still dripping from her chin to her chest “I- I didn’t mean to” She cleaned her mouth with the back of her hand “Oh sweetheart, don’t be sorry that was incredibly hot” she lightly caressed my lower stomach “Now lets get you cleaned up”

:)

Oh, well, fuck

#natasharomanoff #blackwidow #finestavenger #scarlettjohansson

“What makes you horny?”

THIS MOTHERFUCKER HERE

My SHAYLAAAA 💕😭😭😭

"she killed people!" so? that's my baby girl

can i have you for a moment please

#marvel incorrect quotes

Tony: Where is everyone?

Y/N: Steve had a nervous collapse, Clint is taking him to the doctor, Bruce went back to bed, Natasha is yelling at Thor, and I’m in charge.

Tony: … Fuck.

Y/N: I know, right?