Black Widow Movie [Deleted Scenes]

Staring is Bad

Pairing: Professor!Natasha Romanoff x Student!Reader

Summary: you have a thing for your English Literature professor and it doesn’t help that she’s the kind of person to notice

Warning: cursing, flirting from Nat, mentioned porno title but thats it

A/N: … because yes? HAHAHAHA this is the flirting story I was talking about so I really hope you guys like this short one!! (Someone pls flirt with me so i know whats like ;;-;;)

“Y/N?” Your best friend asks as she waves her hand in front of your dazed face while the other students are starting to file in.

You sigh dreamily as you continue to stare at your English Lit prof from the farthest part of the huge lecture room. “She’s so pretty”

As a third year university student taking up Mechanical Engineering, you were given the chance to pick any elective of your choice. Your best friend is an English major so you both thought it would be fun to try and take a class together, resulting to your best friend choosing E104.

This class specifically is notoriously known for always having its slots full before 10 minutes are up so its an absolute miracle you both managed to get in. You remembering judging the class because why would a class have that much slots yet still get filled up, and well you immediately shut up the moment you entered the room to see Ms. Natasha Romanoff writing her name on perfect cursive on the blackboard.

Your best friend rolls her eyes at you as she sits besides you, taking out her notebook and pen for class. “I’m starting to regret this honestly”

“Come on” you tease as you look at her with your chin on the palm of your hand. “You love me, and it’s not my fault you’re in a relationship with a boy for 5 years and counting. Cut me some slack here”

“Keep it in your pants then because I want to pass this class without getting in trouble okay?” She chuckles softly as she pokes your cheek with the cap end of her pen. “Now focus, class is about to start”

You smirk back at your friend as Nat turns to face the lecture hall of 100 students with a smile. “Good afternoon everyone and welcome to English Lit”

She puts the chalk down onto the chalk ledge and grabs a book from her table as she walks to the front of her desk, leaning back slightly to half sit. “We will be discussing The Fall of Icarus, has anyone read the book before?”

Around 10-15 students raises their hands before Nat nods her head to signal the students to lower their hands. You start to zone out as you stare at Nat, appreciating how good she looks in a nice and crisp white button down, tucked into her black slacks that accentuates the length of her legs and shows off the black pumps. She’s wearing the kind of blazer that drapes over her shoulders with 2 slits, one on each arm, making it look like those cape-like blazers and it exerts professionalism but some kind of sexiness in return. Her red ruby lips moving as she continuous on with the lecture and her hair framing her face as if she’s the kindest and smartest person in the world.

You unconsciously sigh dreamily as you melt further into your seat, making your best friend roll her eyes fondly at you with a soft chuckle. Before she could nudge you to bring your focus back, it seems like Ms. Romanoff noticed as well.

“You there at the farthest row, the mechanical engineering major” she starts as her booming voice takes you back to earth, your eyes widening slightly as you straighten your posture and clearing your throat slightly. “What is your take on the symbolism of the story?”

You jump at Nat’s voice and quickly look at your best friend for help who slightly raises her hands, just barely off the table, surrendering. You sigh in defeat as you quickly glance at the blackboard to see the title of the book, silently thanking God that you know a little bit of something on this book thank you hamilton.

“Well for me” you start as you start fiddling with your pen. “When Icarus and his father made their escape out of Sicily with the warning of not flying too close to the sun due to the material used for the wings, you can possibly apply it in a relationship”

You lost your train of thought when your eyes meet your professor’s, suddenly realizing the shade of green it holds and the unexpected presence of emotions it has. Nat smiles before mouthing ‘go on’ the moment she noticed you stopped causing you to blush slightly.

You shake your head and continue on. “Anyway so in the case of Icarus, he’s shown to be the kind to have dreams and aspirations while his father would bring him back to earth where reality is. In a relationship, you can’t always have your head in the clouds and daydream so in a way, you can’t fall in love with the concept of love brought around by media or literature in this case, but fall in love with what you have on earth at that moment or else you’d fly too close to the sun”

A few moments of silence pass, your heart racing at the sudden anxiety of you fucking things over. As you’re about to quietly ask your best friend if you did mess up, your professor suddenly claps her hands with a smile on her face.

“You seem to be quite insightful with literature for a mechanical engineering major” she teases causing the class to laugh as you blush profusely.

“But, I appreciate that so thank you Ms…” she trails off as she raises an eyebrow for you to continue her sentence. You smile shyly as you introduce yourself by your full name.

“Right, Ms. Y/N” she starts as she puts the book down onto the table. “So as what Y/N has mentioned, Icarus’ character is the kind of character to fantasize, daydream even”

She continues on with the lecture as you finally let out a sigh of relief while your best friend besides you pats your thigh with a mischievous grin. “She totally noticed you staring at her”

You roll your eyes at her, nudging her by the shoulder as she gasps just loud enough before profusely saying her apologies as the students nearby stare at the both of you. You grin in victory before looking back at the lecture, placing your chin back onto the palm of your hand with your elbow resting onto your table as you stare at your absolutely gorgeous professor once again with a happy look.

“She’s so pretty”

A month into the semester and this is totally your favorite class. Things has been going really well considering you haven’t been caught ogling at your hot professor even though you’re probably very obvious at it.

She’s currently walking up and down the aisles of the lecture hall, her sleeves of her very professional looking blouse rolled up to her elbow making your heart race at how infatuated you are for her. Since the lecture will go on for a few more minutes, your restless self decided to start daydreaming. You would look out of the window, stare outside for a bit then look back at Nat but would catch her eyes for a few moments before looking away. You couldn’t help but tilt your head slightly, curious and even intrigued.

“I wonder if she can read minds of her students” you thought as a joke, a quirk on the corner of your lips thats a concealed smirk as you try to not laugh at how stupid it is.

“If you can hear my thoughts, say something” you thought in your mind jokingly. Surely Nat of all people wouldn’t… right?

Lo and behold, Nat suddenly walks up to your aisle as she calls for another student to do their recitation. She ends up standing by the empty seat besides you where your bag is currently sitting on, leaning over slightly so only you could hear what she has to say.

“Has your mother ever taught you that staring is bad?” She stands back up after a quick wink and acknowledges the answer of the student as she walks back down.

Your jaw just drops as your entire face pales at being caught, your best friend besides you trying her absolute hardest to not burst out laughing but still couldn’t contain her laughter causing her to shove her head into her arms so she muffle her laughs.

“No fucking way” you mumble to yourself as your best friend lifts her head off her desk, the biggest smirk present on her lips.

“She totally noticed” a smug grin forms on her lips after you playfully hit her arm while a blush forms on your cheeks.

“Alright class” Nat says as she stands by her desk while the other students start to pack up. “Don’t forget to turn in your essays about your chosen book next week. See you then! Oh and Ms. Y/N, please stay”

That made your friend burst out laughing as you quickly tackle her and mumble shut up frantically. You sigh in defeat as she bids you goodbye, leaving you and Nat alone. Dread starts to fill you entire being as you walk closer and closer to Nat, eventually standing by her desk as she bids farewell to the last student who stayed back for a question. The click of the door closing echos throughout the room, as if it was sealing the fate of whatever were to happen next.

“Ms. Y/N” Nat says, acknowledging you as she walks back, standing in front of you. You notice the heigh difference between the both of you where Nat absolutely towers you because of her monster heels. You swallow deeply as you start to fiddle with the end of your sweater.

“A-am I in trouble Ms. Romanoff?” You wince slightly at your stuttering, but also because this sounds like the start of a horrible porno. Nat leans against the edge of her table with a smirk on her lips.

“Do I make you nervous, Ms. Y/N?” She asks with a cocky tilt on the head making you narrow your eyes slightly at the older woman. Her smirks widen at that. “You’re not in trouble, but I’m sure you have a question for me based on the look you gave me earlier”

You blush furiously at that as you run a hand through your hair. “W-well yea, how did you know what I was thinking?”

Nat stands up and you can just smell the perfume she’s wearing, the coffee and caramel lingering in your personal space as you think ‘oh god this is the start of that weird porno, the Student gets fucked by her Professor kind’. She gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, causing your eyes to snap at her as she gets your attention.

“It’s written all over your face in every class, that’s why you should take this” she says as she hands you her sleek black business with her name and number on the front. “And call me, alright? You’re an adult, right darling?”

Your eyes widen as big as saucers at the nickname as a little squeak uncontrollably goes up your throat and out of your mouth. You quickly cover your mouth as you nod frantically.

She smirks at the power she has over you. She wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you against her as she tucks her hands into your back pockets. You feel your face heat up at the feeling of Nat’s hands indirectly against your bottom, the motion of Nat pulling you against her caused you to place your hands against her chest as you don’t go slamming against her. Nat leans down as she’s leaning into your ear, whispering softly and in almost in a seductive matter.

“I’ll see you in class, Ms. Y/N” she pulls back from you completely before you could do anything and you just feel your heart beat against your chest frantically as you stare back in a dazed look, wondering what the fuck just happened. However, you nod back before waving and grabbing your bag to leave.

As you leave, you suddenly noticed the weird feeling of something bunched up in your back pocket since you normally don’t put anything there. As you walk, you slip your hand in and feel a bunched up piece of paper. Taking it out, you open it and immediately stop your tracks as your eyes widen while reading the note.

“8 pm, my office. Don’t be late, darling”

i read your dog tags fic and i have always thought the whole dog tags thing is hot but you think you could do one w natasha? an au where she was a soldier or wte and just a different plot or something idc i just think it’d be so hot for natasha

i don't really know about soldier type stuff so i did it as though she got the dog tags from working at shield - hope that's okay anyway :)

original dog tags fic with carol danvers is here

quiet

natasha romanoff x reader

warnings - smut; daddy kink, thigh riding, necklace as a gag, top!natasha, kinda sex in a public place, i think that's it

word count - 1149

The mission today had been emotionally exhausting for you considering your history with Hydra, having to go back to the base you’d been imprisoned in until just a few years ago. It had gone well though, nobody was injured, you just felt a little down.

You sighed as you slumped into the seat beside Natasha, instantly seeking comfort by resting your head on her shoulder, she kissed your head as you nuzzled into her neck readying for the long flight back.

“You okay, princess?” She murmured against you, feeling the shrug you gave her in response, trailing her fingers over your back down to your hip. “Want me to make you feel better?”

You hummed against her neck pressing a kiss to the skin beneath her ear, “Please daddy, make me feel good.” You mumbled beside her ear with a pout, she choked back a groan at the back of her throat at the words, digging her fingers into your hip to pull you up with her.

Neither of you paid any mind to the others, not caring of any funny looks you may have been receiving as she pulled you towards a secluded area of the quinjet out of sight; she pushed your back against a wall peppering kisses over your face, melding her lips with yours eagerly.

She held you by your waist as she kissed along your jaw, grazing her teeth over your skin as you held her close to your body, desperately clinging to her as though she could float away. Your needy hands wandered, fiddling with the zip of her tactical suit and tugging it down letting your hands brush over the soft skin of her chest, the glistening silver metal of her dog tags she’s worn since she joined Shield dangling against her, resting in the valley of her breasts.

She held the back of your head when you kissed across the skin, sucking at the flesh of her breasts that spilled out of the top of her bra, letting you revel in the taste of her skin - wanting anything to help you feel better. She yanked you back by your hair with a hiss at an overly eager bite to her skin, a dark mark no doubt being left behind.

You pouted to her innocently with your lips swollen red, mischievous smirk tugging at your mouth when she looked at you with a glare, eyes darkened and lustful. She pulled the zip of your suit, yanking the material down your body exposing your bra clad torso, closing the space between you with her lips attacking your neck. She slipped her hand beneath your bra, roughly pinching your nipple between her thumb and finger with a twist only tugging on it more at the sound of a whimper falling from your lips.

“So pretty baby, falling apart under my touch like this already. You’re desperate, hm?” She rasped, her lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“Mhm, just wanna feel good. Make me forget, daddy - please.” You pleaded, goosebumps raising over your skin when she scratched her nails down your body pushing your suit further past your hips.

“Focus on me, princess. By the end of the night you’ll know nothing but my name.”

Your hips bucked up into hers involuntarily at the way she growled out her words before crashing her lips to yours, frenzied and eager kisses as she danced her fingers beneath the hem of your underwear, teasingly stroking over your clit.

“I need you, Natty, please.” You whined out in frustration, feeling her smirk against your chest as she slid her fingers through your wet slit, plunging two fingers into you without a warning. You gasped out at the contact, her digits immediately curling inside you, brushing against your g-spot and the heel of her palm perfectly positioned over your clit.

You put all of your focus into trying to be quiet, trying to be consumed only by the way Natasha pumped her fingers into you with a sublime rhythm and her lips kissed over your neck but the added pang of arousal from the grunt she let out beside your ear made it impossible to swallow the moan at the back of your throat. She’d positioned herself over your thigh, grinding on your leg in a way that had her suit rubbing against her clit magnificently.

She stilled all movement to look at you with green eyes glazed over with arousal, “Quiet, baby - can’t have the others hearing all your pretty sounds.” She murmured, bringing the pendant of her dog tags to your lips. “Open.” She instructed, shoving the metal past your lips watching as you latched your lips around it with a suck. “Good girl, baby, stay quiet for daddy.”

The metal was cold against your tongue, clicking under your teeth as you bit into it to quell the feeble whimpers begging to tumble past your lips. Your nails dug into her shoulder blades as her fingers pulled you closer and closer to your climax and your face grew hot at the way you could hear her fingers pushing into you; she could feel how wet you were, how close you were, slowing her movements agonisingly.

“Hold it, baby, wanna cum with you.” She breathed, her hips moving rapidly in stuttered pushes along your thigh, her breath growing heavier by the minute.

When she could feel her orgasm fast approaching she quickened her pushes into you, your hips bucked forward to match her rhythm, chasing your release by grinding your aching clit against her palm. Natasha muffled her loud moan as she came with a harsh bite into the flesh of your shoulder, harsh enough to draw blood in tooth mark grooves, low whimpers at the back of her throat as she tried to catch her breath.

“That’s it, princess.” She cooed as she felt a gush of wetness over her fingers, your hips still moving lazily against her as the overwhelming pleasure brought tears to your eyes; biting down hard onto the pendant in your mouth with a pull that dug the chain into the back of her neck. “So good, so good for me angel.” She praised, planting kisses over your warm cheeks, holding your limp body up as your chest rose and fell in a chase for oxygen.

She pulled the necklace from your mouth gently, a string of saliva following it and coating your swollen lips, brushing stray hairs out of your face. She held your waist as she pulled her fingers from you, pleased at how they glistened in the light, humming in delight as she sucked your cum from them, looking forward to tasting you properly later.

“Thank you.” You mumbled out meekly, returning the smile Natasha gave you easily.

“My pleasure, baby.” She smirked. “I was only getting started. I’m gonna fuck every thought out of that pretty head.”

🖊🖊🖊

Hello!

You can have three very random bits. :)

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Natasha screamed out hoarsely. Her own arms moved to shield her head, she flinched like you might hit her.

---------

Sipping her tea, Wanda watched the Spiderman for a moment. There were textbooks strewn across the nearby kitchen table and he was sprawled on the sofa like he had tripped over his feet and stopped moving when he’d landed somewhere soft.

She wondered if it was more pathetic that he’d obviously realised he was too tired to study and still had only managed to make it a few feet across the room before collapsing. He should be in bed, she thought hypocritically as she drank.

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A tall woman with dark hair half runs after you in the hallway. She catches your arm and you stop.

‘Agent Hill.’ She introduces herself. You just stand there.

‘Agent Romanoff.’ The woman begins again. You bristle at the formality and Agent Hill notices. ‘Natasha.’ She corrects softly. ‘She has items on board, she has you listed as next of kin.’

Your jaw clenches so hard that you can’t speak. You barely manage a stiff nod as you follow Agent Hill to a small room on the base.

She stands in the doorway. You wait pointedly not moving until she’s gone. Then, you check everywhere. Natasha isn’t gone. She can’t be. She made you a promise.

You check every hiding spot that you’ve ever known her to have. You know you’re acting frantic, you can’t even process what they’re suggesting. She made you a promise. She wouldn’t disappear on you.

All you find, taped to the back of her nightstand, is a carefully folded photo of you. Once you start crying, you can’t stop.

Fleeting

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 561 words

A/N: Have forgotten how to write because I have the mind of a fish. trying to get back into it. Fluff.

You notice one day that Natasha is insecure.

 It’s almost funny to you, the concept is so surreal.

Her confidence is why you started talking.

She’s driving you home and she glances over.

Her smile is nervous and you don’t understand why.

Before she pulls up outside your building, she tells you thank you.

Her voice is hoarse and you’re surprised.

You give her a gentle smile back.

Your eyes meet. 

Understanding settles between you.

Natasha kisses you.

Your voice is hoarse when you murmur thank you too.

Natasha stays over that night.

Your lives starts tangling together.

It feels good.

She taps your waist when she walks around you. 

The gesture is light as air, it makes you feel settled.

Natasha sings when she cooks.

You ask her if it makes the food taste better. She sticks her tongue out and offers you a forkful.

Natasha tells you that you’re shit at video games. 

Her voice is so pitying that you feel like you’ve been diagnosed with ineptitude.

She plays Mario Kart with you every single night.

She teases you about your driving, but her smile is excited.

She keeps asking you to play again.

She straddles you on the sofa and tells you that you’re a danger behind the wheel.

You are her friend. 

You are more than that too.

But, being her friend feels special.

You want to celebrate every part of loving her.

She trusts you.

You don’t realise at first.

She starts telling you about the missions she goes on.

At first, she only tells you vague locations.

Then, she starts to debrief little fragments. 

One day, you find her caught in a silent storm of tears.

She lets you hold her.

Things are different then.

She invites you to sleep over more and more. 

You start splitting your time between apartments.

One afternoon, you arrive earlier than expected.

Natasha glances guiltily at the sofa when she lets you in. 

You see your usual pillow lying there.

You realise that she holds it when you’re not here.

That night you tell her that you love her.

Her smile is wide. 

Her eyes fill with relieved tears.

She was waiting for you.

Natasha starts holding your hand when you walk together. 

She asks your opinion about everything.

She starts playing your favourite music.

Natasha gives you her favourite book. 

The pages are worn and you feel like she’s written on every page.

You borrow her laptop and learn that she’s looking at new apartments.

You think she’s moving away. 

Natasha finds you crying.

She starts crying too.

You’ve never seen her so scared.

Her words are disjointed when she tries to tell you about family.

About what she’s never really had.

About what you mean to her.

Natasha tries to tell you that she wants to live with you.

She can’t meet your eyes.

Her fingers are tapping, and the sound slips from rhythmic to compulsive.

You wonder if she’s counting out your last seconds together.

You watch her wait for you to leave.

Things slide into place.

Your voice is careful, but it’s also certain.

You ask if you can be her family now.

Natasha cries harder.

You touch her tapping fingers and they stop moving abruptly.

You kiss her knuckles.

Natasha is not a time or place.

Natasha is not fleeting.

Natasha is your family.

can we imagine seggsy time with nat and she puts a vibe on your clit but then straddles you so it’s on her aswell…. 😮‍💨

OH YEEEEAAAH

Cant believe it's my bday and im spending it revising for tests lmao 😢 Anyway I will probs have some free time soon so I may write something... um no promises tho hehe

Natasha Romanoff ~ Pain

Natasha Romanoff X fem!Reader Smut

Word count: 2,873

Includes: bondage, blindfold, masturbation, spanking, gagging, praise, fingering, edging, strap on, knife play (minor injury), overstimulation and oral

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Even with your sense heightened you couldn't hear a sound except your own shallow breathing. The blindold covering your eyes had left you to rely on your hearing while all you could see was darkness.

Having said that, your sense of touch seemed to have been sharpened, but that may have been down to having no clothes on. Natasha had pulled them all off you what seemed like centuries ago, leaving your skin hopeful to feel her touch.

Your wrists were beginning to sore from the tight rope holding them together above your head. They were secured to the metal bars at the top of the bed and ensured restricted movements from your hands.

Your ankles had a similar fate and were tied down to each of the bedposts, leaving your legs spread wide open for your girlfriend.

You lay on your stomach with your ass in the air and your head to the side, leaving the silky sheets against your cheek. Your girlfriend knew you felt vulnerable in such a position, something that was definetly a turn on, yet had never left you alone in that state before.

You could only imagine the teasing Natasha had planned for you. She knew all of your kinks, as you did hers, and she was more than willing to try most of them. But there was one she had been promising to do for so long you had come to assume it would never happen.

You were interrupted from your thoughts when you finally heard your girlfriend enter the room. The sound of her footsteps was followed by a mocking chuckle that always left you wet and wanti

"Look at my little whore, all tired up and helpless. Ready to be fucked" She spoke in her dominant tone darkly. You could only whimper in response.

"Please." You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

You could hear her footsteps coming closer to the bed before you felt the shift in weight distribution on the mattress.

You could hear her placing multiple objects down onto the bed and your mind wondered with all the possibilities of what those objects were.

You felt your dominant girlfriend straddle your waist and her bare skin against your own, sending electric sparls throughout your body.

Her slim fingers stroked the centre of your neck so lightly if you hadn't known it was her you would have assumed it was a feather.

The slight touch from her fingertips wandered in a straight line up your neck, jaw and chin. She held it lightly in her hand, her fingertips below your jaw and her thumb a centimetre below your bottom lip.

You knew she was prolonging the feeling of you shaking in anticipation beneath her.

Her thumb stroked the area and you responded by parting your lips for her more. You thought she would slip her thumb or fingers inside, as she had done countless times before, but instead she whipped off the blidfold.

Despite this newfound vision, Natasha was still out of your line of sight. Your disapintment was short lived when she gracefully got off your back and sat down in the chair facing you.

The last time you had seen the beauty she was fully clothed. But in that moment she displayed to you her red lingerie that clung to her body perfectly. It highlighted her curves and made your imagination run wild.

The lace bra and panties displayed about as much as they hid and you felt your arousal grow as your eyes wondered over the matching lacy suspender belt and stockings.

You wanted nothing more than to please her and have her moaning your name, but she had other plans.

"Like what you see?" She smirked as she spread her legs to show you just how thin the fabric was and how little it hid the outline of her pussy lips.

She leaned towards you as she captured her bottom lip between her teeth, maintaining her lustful stare. She placed two fingers on your lips and you instantly opened your mouth for her to slip them in this time.

You sucked on them as you stared back at her and swiped your tongue over the length of her slender fingers. She smirked at your eagerness as she pulled her fingers away and resumed her previous position in the chair.

You licked your own lips at the sight and saw Natasha's had wander teasingly across her stockings, thighs and then the wasitband of her panties, her fingers still glistening.

She didn't hesitate to rub the outline of her pussy through her panties, a sight that made your own pussy clench.

You heard her gasp out when she pressed down on her clit and once she brought her hand away you saw the wet patch she had made on her panties.

"Natasha..." you whined, wanting to touch her.

"No begging, or there will be consequences." She ordered again, breathlessly this time as she continued to stare me down. You nodded your head quickly before your gaze dropped back to those panties that deprived you of the full view.

Natasha's fingers slipped elegantly beneath the red fabric and disappeared into her wet folds. You could hear her moan softly as she started to pump two fingers inside herself at a steady pace.

Her other hand reached up to grap her left breast while she continued to finger herself infront of you. You so desperetly wanted to call out to her. To beg her to let you touch her, any way she wanted. But I knew you wouldn't be successful.

Natasha's pace increased as her moans grew louder and her thigh muscles clenched. You could tell she was close and without considering the consequences you called out to her.

"Tasha, please! Let me touch you." You whined and tried to squirm in your position. Your girlfriend's eyes darkened as a result yet she didn't stop.

You watched in awe as she came on her fingers while her head tilted back in bliss. It didn't take long for her to come down from her high and stand from the chair, her legs only slightly shaky.

"I warned you." Natasha spoke lowly as she moved around to the end of the bed. Part of you expected there to be some kind of warning for what followed, the rest of me knew better.

Natasha brought her hand down fast across your ass and you gave a cry of surprise and pain from the sudden feeling. You would have lurched forward if you weren't so tightly held down, but the restricted movements caused you to experience the pain more than you normally would.

"Quiet." Natasha ordered again. You bit your lip hard to supress any noises you would make.

However, this proved futile as the next time Natasha spanked you you moaned into the bed sheets, the sound definetly loud enough for your sadistic girlfriend to hear.

"Alright then, if you insist on keeping that slutty mouth of yours open..." Natasha didn't bother to fnish her sentence, knowing actions spoke louder than words.

She pulled my blindfold back down over your eyes before quickly spanking you again. This time when you opened your mouth to moan your girlfriend forced a breathable ball gag into your mouth and fastened it at the back of your head.

"Open one of your hands if you want me to stop. I won't be mad." She said gently into your ear, making you smile.

How your girlfriend was able to shift attitudes so drastically in a short space of time always baffled you, but your heart melted whenever she showed her caring side. Everytime you had been gagged she said the same thing.

You nodded and kept your hands in closed fists, hearing a chuckle from her in repsonse.

"Good girl." She hummed, returning to her dominant side. Before you could even respond to her praise you felt another harsh smack to your ass that had you crying out into the gag. You even tried to speak into the gag to beg her to touch you, but your pleading was inaudible, something Natasha evidently found amusing.

She spanked you more until you completly lost count due to only being able to think about the intense stinging feeling across your skin, imagining just how red your skin was and knowing Natasha would apply some cream to that when she was done.

Tears streamed down your face and you whimpered from every little thing you felt. The sensitivity of your skin was making you crazy and completly at your girlfriend's control.

You breathed heavily as you rested your head against the bed sheets and was vaguely aware of Natasha's fingers running across your broken skin. The somewhat soothing gesture didn't last long as her fingers soon dropped down to your soaking core.

"You're so wet, y/n." She husked as her fingers glided over your folds, gathering your juices on her fingers.

You whimpered in response to her words and only wished you could move yourself back onto her fingers.

As if she could hear your thoughts, Natasha slipped a single finger into your folds and pushed it entirely inside you. You moaned softly at the single digit, instantly craving more.

"I'm barely touching you are you're already so responsive." She mocked and moved the single finger in at an agonizingly slow pace, you groaned in protest but your girlfriend only snickered in response to your whining.

She kept this up for a couple minutes and just as you were about to huff out in frustration you felt her withdraw and pump 3 fingers into you at a sudden, overwhelming rate.

You moaned and gasped out into the gag as you felt her fingers fuck you at a rough and hard pace.

You so desperetly wanted to ride her fingers but could only strain your thigh muscles against the ropes. You kept your head firmly against the sheets and hands enclosed in tight fists as though you were protecting something sacred in the palm of your hand.

You could feel the heat rising throughout your body and the pleasure building as Natasha mercilessly thrusted her fingers into your soaked pussy that clenched around her perfectly.

Just as you thought you were about to experience an earth shattereing orgasm, Natasha's fingers abruptly pulled out.

You whimpered and whined into the gag in protest and could hear your girlfriend chuckle at your struggles and pathetic attempt to prolong the pleasure.

You could hear her suck on her fingers as the weight shifted on the bed until Natasha was gone, leaving only the sound of her moving.

Once she was back on the bed she leant over to whisper into your ear while you felt the familiar silicone brush your folds.

"I'll say this once: cum without permission and you will be punished." As she said those words you felt a cool piece of metal glide across your skin. Under the blindfold your eyes widened as I realised what Natasha was holding.

The knife, sharpened to perfection, pressed threateningly against your vulnerable skin. You could guess it was about a six inch blade and imagined it glistening in the light in an angelic manner.

Your core throbbed at the thought of it, yearning to feel it press against you to the point where it tears at your fragile skin.

Natasha placed the strap in line with your entrance and pushed the tip forward for your pussy lips to envelope.

As you clenched around the small amount inside you, you were caught off guard by Natasha pushing the rest of it inside you in one hard thrust.

You cried out into the gag, not being able to adjust to the size before your girlfriend pulled out and slammed the toy back into you. You moaned loudly at the ache the strap caused and dug your nails into the palms of your hands.

Natasha continued to pound the strap into your pussy as you moaned and whimpered in time with her deep, hard strokes.

While one hand held the knife against your stomach, the other grabbed a fist full of your hair and yanked it so your head was thrown back.

All of this combined with Natasha mercillessly slamming the strap on into you over and over made your pussy start to clench around the toy.

You tried to communicate with her that you were about to cum, but of course she didn't care.

Your whole body tensed up and your breathing became increasingly ragged until you clenched around the toy again and came hard on it. You moaned and gasped out into the gag, almost forgetting about the knife pressed against you.

You were reminded of it when you felt a sudden, fast jolt from the knife that slashed across you. You cried out and felt your arousal grow again despite the now slow pace of Natasha moving the strap.

Your stomach felt as though it had been burnt and the red hot sting continued to stay. Natasha dropped her hand that was holding your hair and swipped her finger across the cut and hummed in delight.

You kept your fists tightly closed and wondered if you had drawn blood yourself from how deep your nails were into your own flesh.

"You're doing so good for me." Natasha whispered softly into your ear and started to pick up the pace again.

This time, you were already adjusted to the size of the strap and took it without the feeling of it stretching you slightly.

Natasha's hips moved at a faster rate and every time she filled you up completelt you felt her press against your ass. The knife remained firmly in her hand and on a new area of your stomach, ready to strike the unmarked skin.

Your body trembled from the stimulation to your pussy that made you shake slightly in support of the ropes still binding you down.

You moaned into the gag again as you felt the familiar tug in your lower stomach come back.

You could feel Natasha's grip on the knife tighten as your legs tensed up again and your back arched as much as it could as you came a second time, even more exhausted than the last.

With the orgasm came another cut across your skin, longer and deeper this time. You whimpered into the gag, wishing you could see the marks your girlfriend had made.

Natasha didn't halter her rhythm this time and seemed to instead take her fucking with a new vigour. This time when she thrust the strap on into you you could feel your cum soaking the strap as it pumped into your equally wet pussy, the combination of which was extremely audible and made you gush with wetness even more.

"You wanna cum again, huh? I can hear how wet and desperate you are for me, whore." You moaned in response as your whole body shuddered again, your increasing sensitivity making you all the more vulnerable.

When you came for the third time and felt the sharp blade slice once more, you were so out of breath you needed the gag removed to help you breathe. You opened your hand and felt Natasha instantly stop her movements and pulled out.

"It's okay, you did so good for me." She cooed as she removed your blindfold and gag.

"I'm okay..." You huffed, trying to catch your breath. "I can do...one more." You gasped and felt Natasha untie all the ropes.

"One more? Hmm okay." She flipped you gently onto your back and positioned herself between your legs.

You gazed down in awe at the three cuts across your stomach. They weren't serious and you doubted they would need stitches, yet the bright red blood slowly escaping from the wounds, one of which even trickling down yourside, lit your core on fire.

Your girlfriend grinned knowingly at you as she flicked her tongue against your swollen clit. You gasped out at the sensitivity and rested your head back against the pillow and clossed your eyes in bliss.

Natasha's tongue swiped around your folds, collecting the cum that had spilled out a little prior, befor plunging her tongue inside you.

You moaned out from the sensitivity and gripped her hair for support, encouraging her to tongue fuck you faster.

Her tongue swiped around inside of you perfectly, as though it was the last time she would taste you and wanted to memorize every inch of your core.

The overstimulation meant it didn't take long for your walls to clench around her tongue, pushing it out and leading Natasha to sucking on your clit in response.

"Tasha!" You gasped out as you came hard on your girlfriend's tongue. She licked up every single drop of your cum before leaning up to kiss you.

You kissed her back and tasted yourself on her lips, smiling to yourself at that fact. She pulled back and fell down beside you, looking at you lovingly.

"That was..." She trailed off, unable to find the words.

"Wow-factor." You grinned.

hey 😘😘😘

(REAL)

kotenok part. twelve

while you and natasha share a moment of serenity with each other, it’s interrupted when you argue about the conflicts in your relationship.

older!natasha romanoff x younger!reader

kotenok masterlist

You wake with your head buried between her neck. Natasha smells like lavender, honey, and vanilla all at once. With her hair strewn across her pillow, crimson red locks, curled into little ringlets, they make way for the features on her face.

The way she scrunches herself nose in slumber, pink lips parted as she breathes, and the freckles say a quaint hello as the sun shines softly on the both of you.

It’s small.

The days like these where New York city isn’t in a cloud of pent up rain and thunder, the days where the sun is out to play, shows off for a daring sunset when it hits eight o’clock right on the dot.

The days where you get to wake up with the love of your life in your bedroom with your head buried in the crook of her neck.

You’re the first one to stir awake. Your limbs aching from prior activities from the night before. Only then, which to remind you of the purpling hickeys left on the skin of your inner thighs and thin parts of you neck.

A thumb rubs along the bruising colour on your leg, hissing when you realize it’s still fresh as a wound. You don’t mind it, it’s all what makes you owned by Natasha and you’re proud.

But as the chilly air of the AC hits you awake, you sit up against your body’s aching will and a yawn washes the sleep away.

Natasha is next to wake up. Her arm moving over to your side in instinct of searching for you. When she fails and feels your side empty, but warm, her eyes flutter open to find you staring at her with swollen eyes.

“Morning.” You beam at the older woman with a looped smile, which she returns in the process. But when the slumber in her slips away and Natasha leans her head against your back, you feel her warm breath fan against your skin.

Her arm circles against your tiny body and tugs you close against her front. The older woman has no trouble dragging you against her for the sole reason she overweights you in size.

When you melt against her front, feeling her mock your actions as she buries her face against your neck, your body loses all control in an effort to just feel your lover.

“Good morning, moya krasivaya devushka.” She whispers it like a nun in prayer, like you were the only thing she believed was worth worshiping.

And despite the language barrier, you welcomed her embrace and smiled through it all.

“I have no clue what that meant, but good morning to you too.” The redhead hums against your skin, her pale slender fingers drawing circles against the skin that protects your ribs.

She makes another noise of content, this time, pulling her head away to pepper open mouthed kisses on the paper thin skin of your pulse. You jerk slightly in response, but found pure and content comfort in her touch and hold.

The older woman held you like that, breathing in and out as her chest presses against yours. With the curve of your back pressed against her chest, her lips on your skin, gentle sayings were whispered along the way.

“I love you.” She tells you, and Natasha makes you feel it every day of your waking moment.

You smile in return, your head lulling back against her shoulder. The action makes the older woman pause and sigh. “I love you more.”

When you and Natasha finally find the energy to slip away from bed and enter the common room, the two of you are greeted by your friends. Steve is bright and awake, covered in his gym clothes, you have no doubt he just came back from running with Bucky.

Natasha has her hair in a braid, settled to one side, she dawns black leggings with a zip up hoodie that looks too small for her. You gave that to her, the grey hoodie from Lululemon that was a size too big for you, was then rewarded to your girlfriend when she said she was a size four while you were a zero.

She makes oatmeal for the both of you. Raisins in yours and she likes hers bland. Wanda enters the room, and when she does, awareness of her presence is inevitable. But she gently smiles when she sees the two of you.

Suddenly, it’s not all too bad.

When the two of you sit on the barstool next to each other, Natasha plans the day ahead.

You stand beside the older woman as she signs the receipt, with a big purchase like that, Natasha doesn’t even blink an eye at how the total exceeds two zeros.

You pursed your lips in tow, biting your tongue after to let the question from slipping from your lips. But just as Natasha finishes with the sales associate, the redhead looks up from heavy red lashes and stares with striking emerald eyes.

“What’s on your mind, darling?”

The sales associate disappears the moment the bag is in Natasha’s hand. She doesn’t bat another eye at the employee despite being well aware of his knowing look towards the famous Avenger.

It’s the first time Natasha calls you by such name in public and especially around people. As you stare into her gaze, the smile on her lips present and deepening the smile lines and wrinkles, you know it’s genuine.

You shake your head, smiling as you flush under her gaze. “Nothing. I love you.”

Her brows raise a bit. Her lips purse just as yours did, the only difference is that she’s forcing a smile away. Her pale cheeks are red now, you almost feel bad for making such a sensual woman blush within a simple advocation of admiration.

But she expresses back with a hand reaching out to yours. She squeezes your hand, and then she lets the grin rip all over her face.

Only then, you remember the very first time you’ve loved a girl. The brown headed girl, with the pale skin sprinkled with freckles, and her striking green eyes.

You don’t remember anyone else to love after her. She was only there for a brief moment in your life, a few years or so, sat on different sides of the steel bars, and only then, you remember what it is to feel in love.

You know, and you remember because as you stand there with a smiling Natasha Romanoff, you feel it in the bones that were once broken and bruised, now healed and kissed by none other.

She cocks her head this time, curious and concerned for the sudden silence on your end. And this time, she reaches out with a touch of comfort on the pads of her finger tips.

“You sure?”

You balance the weight of your body on your right feet, shoulders sagging as you blink naively at your lover.

“Did you see the smile Wanda gave us today?”

Natasha is the type to suppress her emotions. The type to have been trained to do so for her whole life. And with that training, comes a time of need. In this moment, you can’t read her.

Your shoulders sag and you purse you lips, waiting for her answer if if it were going to burn you.

“I did.”

“I’m glad.”

She raised a brow. “Are you?”

You nod this time, a small smile erupting on your chapped lips. “I am.” You sigh softly. “I think... Well, I hope, she’s opening up to the idea of my happiness with you.”

“I hope that’s her intentions.” Natasha stands taller now and the sales associate is long gone, had been since he handed her the bag. “You never know with Wanda.”

“She has been hurt, Talia.”

“As if you hadn’t been.” The redhead scoffs, almost offended. “Do not apologize on behalf of the woman who hurt you, darling. It only makes you look bad.”

You get angry with Natasha for a moment. Your heart aches with a hurt that you’ve haven’t felt.

“I’m not apologizing for her behalf.” You snap back accordingly and this time, Natasha stands to tower your small stature. “I’m merely sympathizing for her pain because I know what it had been like for someone important to me be taken away.”

You go on with a warm face and blurred vision. It makes Natasha look like a white blob with red hair.

“It’s not wrong to care, Natalia. It’s not wrong to care about people who have been hurt. And it’s definitely not wrong to care about someone like Wanda who’s experienced enough torment in their life. I am trying to be better than the people who have made me. But I am sorry if you cannot see that.”

“I’m not blind.”

You huff at your girlfriend’s words and for the very time, your throat aches at the idea of talking to Natasha about such a topic.

“I never said you were.”

“You implied it.”

You shake your head, attempting to remove the impending ache that spread across your temple and your front. You sigh when it doesn’t work and so, your shoulders sag in defeat.

“I’m ready to go home.”

And this time, Natasha doesn’t reply back. She doesn’t snap back with a comment, she doesn’t try to talk back to you with a tone that makes you want to step away.

Instead, she leads the way out of the store, then through the crowded floors of the mall, and then into the parking where a valet driver returns her car. You sit where you’ve always have, next to her, but as the silence settles in her Corvette, you realize how much the argument has affected her.

She even goes to grip the steering wheel with a hold that makes her knuckles white and she huffs. As she stares right ahead of her, through the glass and the line painted onto the concrete floor of the parking garage, she’s the first to break the silence.

“You’re right.” You blink up at her when she says the words and the anger you held for the older woman shatters with a crack. “I suppose I’m afraid of her hurting you the way other have done it. I just want you to be happy and I just want your life to be filled with people who do make you happy. Even if it means rejecting those who fit into mine.”

She goes on. “You’re right that it’s not wrong to care about people but I just want you to be careful about how you care for them. I’ve met the other end of the witch, darling, she’s just not all about the words she speaks. If she wanted, and that’s a big if, she could make you disappear.”

You swallow to speak but apparently, she had more to say. “Wanda... I never loved her. At least not in the way she wanted me to. We both craved something that we couldn’t fully give, I needed a distraction, she gave it, but she expected more and I didn’t. It’s hard enough loving someone who’s twenty years your junior and everyone is chastising you for it but doing it with a failed one night stand who seems to have fallen for you? I’d take you anywhere just to have peace with you.”

When the silence settled back in and she finishes, you reach for the love of your life’s hand with a touch so gentle, she would’ve never even felt it if you hadn’t slipped your fingers through hers.

“Wanda is someone we can’t force out of our lives.” Natasha knows that and you too. “But I want to keep loving you without fear or judgment of others. And if apologizing and catering to her will do that, I’d gladly take the opportunity.”

When Natasha turns her head and faces you, a pink shade to her cheeks, a frown blossoms on your lips.

“I never meant to chastise you for caring about people. I think it’s great that you do, but I worry and I just want you to live your life to the fullest. Wanda has no part in our relationship and I don’t think she should, regardless of what she used to mean to me.”

“I know. I know.” Your response to her apology is one that’s genuine. And as Natasha starts the car and backs out of the parking garage, you hold her hand and squeeze it. You turn to her with gentle eyes and an aching heart.

For a moment, she takes her eyes off the road, it’s empty anyways, Natasha has a sense of a bird, of an assassin. She’s always on guard. And for a second between that moment, her eyes shine with glimmer.

“I love you.”

Her hand squeezes yours, and the air runs through the locks of your hair as the windows come down. Your gaze never leaves your lover and you know, even now and even through the argument, you love her, no doubts, no hesitation, even through the worst of it all.

“And I’m sorry.”

You shake your head at your lover’s words. Despite it all, you know she means well, she means her words and her actions with all the love she has for you.

She’s willing to drop everything for a life of happiness with you and your heart aches at the thought of her selfishness, her willingness to just be with you.

You smile at Natasha when the car stops at a light, your features soft while she replicates your own.

“I know.”

There hasn’t been any certainty for a while in your life but as you look at the redhead, you know you’ll be alright.

Summary: Facing the threat of deportation to her home country Russia, book editor Natasha Romanoff comes to an agreement with her assistant to get married. With that, comes a visit to the assistants hometown and meeting all of her family. Can they fool everyone that they’re in love? Will they have to pretend for the rest of their lives?

Tags: Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Natasha Romanoff Fic, Natasha Romanoff Fanfic, Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow Fic, Movie Fic, The Proposal (2009), Reader has Daddy Issues, Natasha is Readers Boss, Fake Marriage, Fake Dating, Meeting Family,

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Sex, Marriage?, Daddy Issues, Boss x Assistant,

Word Count: 3.4K

Taglist: @timmyslover (please ask to join through asks or message me!) Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series :)

A/N: this fic is based on the 2009 movie The Proposal with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds. some of the events have been changed to fit Natasha and to make it easier for me lol. please please leave comments or come scream at me about it :)) i’m actually estatic about this fic istg. also i’m seeing spider-man for the first time today wish me luck. just got my booster shot so i’ll exercise my arm while wiping tears

The Proposal Chapter One

Working for Natasha Romanoff is hard on a normal day. On a day like today, it’s absolute hell. You woke up later because the power in the building went out sometime in the night. Which leaves you where you are now, rushing around your apartment, looking for anything you can put on. There’s one clean dress shirt hanging in the closet, and you find the slacks you wore yesterday on the floor. They look clean enough, so you put them on, hopping around on one foot frantically while putting on one shoe.

You practically run to the Starbucks that’s close to where you work. Kate, the barista, already has your drinks made.

“You’re a lifesaver, Kate.”

“Don’t forget it,” she calls back with a smile.

You go as fast as you think you can with hot coffee, yelling apologies behind you at the people you bump into.

The elevator doors shut behind you just as you make it into them.

“Just in time,” you say to yourself, casting glances and awkward smiles at the people next to you. As soon as you hear the ding for your floor, you get again start hauling ass to Natasha’s office. Unfortunately, because that’s how today is going to be apparently, you crash into someone, spilling coffee down the front of your shirt.

A string of curses falls from your lips as you help the man up. Your shirt has dark stains all down the front. You’re pretty sure it’s not something Natasha will accept in her office.

You walk down the row of desk and stop in from of the first person you see that’s wearing something you can match with and not look like you picked a random shirt.

“I’ll give you company seats to the New York Avengers if you give me your shirt. You have five seconds to agree.” You start counting, and they run to the bathroom to change. You follow, thanking them profoundly along the way.

You rush to Natasha’s office, getting there right before she does. When Natasha walks in, you’re waiting by her desk, coffee in hand. She curtly thanks you and sits down at her desk, going through her paperwork.

She’s wearing a dark blue dress with a matching belt. Her hair is pinned back in the illusion of a simple bun, but you know how long she probably spent doing it. You’ve never seen her hair down. You know better than to ask.

“Your immigration lawyer called,” you say quickly, wanting to get this part of the day out of the way and go back to your desk.

“Cancel the appointment. And add open up my schedule on that weekend in September we talked about. Fury has decided to do Oprah.”

“Fury decided or you worked your persuasive magic on him and made the decision for him?”

“They’re the same thing,” she dismisses.

“Right. You have a conference call with Steve Rogers in 37 minutes and a staff meeting at 9:00. Also, someone called about the winter release for-“

“Tell then it is what it is and that if they think I can change time they should pay me more.”

“I’ll tell them politely no.”

“Waste of time,” she mutters. You’re about to leave when you remember that you have one more think to ask about.

“Did you have the chance to read the manuscript I sent you?” you ask, standing on the opposite side of Natasha’s desk.

“I started it, but I lost interest fairly quickly. Nothing really impressive about it.”

You start to exit the room and relax a little bit at your desk, but Natasha calls you back.

“Wait. Who is Kate and why does she want me to call her?”

You turn around slowly, meeting Natasha’s uninterested gaze. “That was mine. Yours spilled.”

“You drink a lavender latte with almond milk and foam?”

“Yes,” you say convincingly. “It tastes like summertime in my mouth,” you end lamely, your statement sounding much more like a question.

“Hm. It’s strange, because that’s my exact drink order. You wouldn’t possibly be ordering my drink for yourself in case you spill one of them because you’re scared shitless of what would happen. No, that would make you very much pathetic.”

That’s actually exactly what you do. She knows it. You know it. You should admit it. But what comes out of your mouth instead is: “Of course not. I just really like lavender coffee.”

“Mhm. The phones are ringing. Go do your job and answer it.”

“You got it.”

Again, before you leave she calls out to you. “Oh, one more thing. There’s a book fair this weekend that I need you to go to with me.”

“This weekend?” you ask.

“Yep,” she says, popping the p loudly. “Is that a problem?” Yes.

“No.”

You spend a while at your desk, taking calls and filing through the manuscripts that Natasha thinks are worth her time. You make sure to check the simple things like format and grammar, outlining them in red pen so she doesn’t have to do it.

Being an editor has always been your dream job. Growing up, books had been your form of escape from the overwhelming weight of your family. They led you through good times and bad, and gave you something to look forward to during the worst. Being Natasha’s assistant gives you an amazing opportunity to be just that, if you can make it.

You’re interrupted from a thrilling story when the phone rings.

“Ms. Romanoff’s office, how can I help you?“

“There’s my baby,” a familiar voice says.”

“Hi, Mom. I’m at work, is everything okay?”

“You sound stressed? Is that devil woman working you too hard again?” she frets. You can hear her frown.

“When is she not? Look, mom, I needed to talk to you anyway. I can’t come to Grammy’s birthday this weekend.”

“What?” You have to hold the phone away from your ear, wincing at the sudden volume of her voice. “You already bought tickets. You promised you would be here.”

“Yeah, well plans changed. It was nothing I could control.”

“Put your boss on the phone. I have a few choice words for her.”

“If only I could”- you look up to see Natasha walking over to your desk-“offer you a better deal, but unfortunately our prices are set. Goodbye.” You hang up the phone and turn to Natasha.

“Was that your mom?” she asks, walking down the aisle.

“Yep.”

“Did she want to kill me like usual?”

“Yep. She’s mad you’re making me miss Gammy’s 90th birthday.”

“Good. Consistency is key.” She stops at the door marked for D. Dreykov, knocking and pushing the glass door open.

“Ms. Romanoff, it’s good to see you,” acknowledges Dreykov, putting down his drink. With a vague sense of puzzlement you notice that it’s whiskey.

“It’s fucking eight thirty in the morning,” you murmer, low enough so Dreykov doesn’t hear. You’re pretty sure Natasha does, but she hides her smile by turning away. Even if she wasn’t, you’re going to pretend she does just to annoy her.

“You as well. How are you?” she ventures, looking pointedly at his glass.

“The same. You?“

“I can’t complain,” says Natasha, turning to a huge wooden armoire in the corner of the room.

“Is it new?” she inquires, tracing it with her fingers.

“It’s an eighteenth century piece,” he brags. “But to my office, yes it is new. You can't come here to talk about furniture, Ms. Romanoff. How can I help you?” You brace for what comes next. Knowing Dreykov, this isn’t going to go well.

“You’re fired,” Natasha says bluntly, no look of sympathy on her face. It’s a face you never hope to see looking at you.

“You better be joking,” laughs Dreykov.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“You’re overreacting. You got Fury to do the show anyway.”

“Am I? You have two months to find yourself a new job. Everyone will be told that you resigned.” With that, Natasha walks out, you right behind her.

“What’s the update? How’s he looking?” she asks, questioning you about Dreykov’s reaction. You look back and see Dreykov pacing around the room.

“Fuming. Trying to decide if he’s going to come over here.”

“Shit. Don’t do it, Dreykov. It’s the wrong move.”

“He’s doing it.”

“Damn it.” Natasha turns around to see Dreykov coming towards her.

“You bitch,” he seethes. “You fired me because you thought I was better than you! You’re threatened by me, so you took me out. This has nothing to do with the Fury interview.” His voice raises volume, attracting interested stares from the people in the office. The same people who are quick to look away whenever Natasha starts speaking.

Calmly, she explains. “You’re right. I didn’t fire you because of Fury. That would be pointless and putting my own neck on the line. I fired you because, not only are you lazy and an asshole, you treat everyone in this office, including me, your boss, like they owe you something just for being in your presence. You show up late, drink all day, and turn in shitty work. And, frankly, I just don’t like you. So there you go. That’s why you got fired. If I hear another word I’m going to have my assistant over there call security to escort you out. Looks like you won’t be resigning after all.”

He starts to speak, but Natasha cus him off. “Not another word.” Her eyebrows raise, almost challenging him to speak again. He doesn’t. Instead, he storms off to his room like a child.

“Upstairs called my office directly. I’ll have to go up there in”-Natasha checks her watch-“five minutes. After ten in the room, I want you to make up an excuse and come get me. We have to much to do.”

“Sure thing.” Natasha heads the opposite direction while you go back to your desk. The office relaxes significantly as she leaves, people starting to talk about what just happened. You almost hear a sigh of relief sweep across the office when she’s gone.

You wait ten minutes, answering one call and sitting there the rest of the time. Then, you take the elevator to the next floor, deemed by everyone “the upstairs.” At the end of the hallway is a large office with huge windows.

You pop your head into the door of the office and are met with an immediate call to get out. Such polite people.

“Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen. Natasha, I have Sam Wilson on the phone for you. I told him to call back later, but he insists that it’s important and cannot wait.” You expect her to come with you like she always does when she tells you to do this, but she doesn’t move. She just stares at you, then looks back at her bosses, then back at you.

She mouths something to you that you can’t decipher. She does it again, and motions for you to go stand next to her.

“I understand the situation that I’m currently in, that’s why I think it’s important that you know…”

She puts her arm around your shoulders awkwardly and announces: “We’re getting married.”

“Who is?” you question, a fake smile on your lips.

“Us. Me and you. The lovebirds of the office,”she says through her teeth.

“Uh, right,” you turn to her bosses and smile at them, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.

“You know, she’s just so…” Natasha trails off, looking at you.

“I feel like it shouldn’t take that long to think of an adjective,” you mutter.

“Honest,” bites Natasha sweetly. “She’s honest to me. It was all those late nights together and early mornings, you really see the worst of each other. But that couldn’t stop us, could it sugarbear?” Sugarbear? Really? You send an unamused look at Natasha, who smiles pointedly back at you.

“Sure, honeycomb,” you grimace at the endearment, hoping it doesn’t sound half as ridiculous as you think it does. “We just couldn’t help ourselves from the attractive pull.”

“Something simply happened between us that I can’t explain,” concludes Natasha.

“Something definitely happened. And there’s definitely no logical explanation,” you agree.

“Is this-this is what you want, right? This is good?” Natasha motions between the two of

you, looking at the two men in front of you. They’re both wearing business smiles.

“Just make it official,” one says, pointing to his ring finger.

“That’s hot,” says the other. You want to punch him. You don’t think your fiancé (?) would appreciate that, though.

“Great. We’ll go to the immigration office right now and get this all sorted out. Thank you, gentlemen.”

“Of course. Ms. Romanoff, Ms…” the man at the desk trails off, giving up on remembering you name. He shrugs and goes back to his work.

“Ouch,” you murmur. You walk the rest of the way in silence, trying to figure out what’s going on. Natasha looks completely calm and in control.

Once you make it to you office, you shut the door, expecting some sort of explanation. Instead, Natasha sits down and starts working.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Do you want to tell me what that was about? Because last time I checked we aren’t engaged and very much aren’t in love.”

“I was going to be deported to Russia and fired. This makes it where that doesn’t have to happen,” she states simply.

“And why would I comply with this? No offense, but I don’t need you to have a career here,” you inquire.

“Because if you don't, do think you’re going to be fired.” You raise your eyebrows at her, and she continues. “Dreykov, who we just fired, is going to take my place. You think he’s going to keep you around? I can answer that for you. No. He’s not. So if you want to be an editor, you’ll do this.”

“Jesus fucking shit.”

“That’s quite a swear,” notes Natasha mildly. “Don’t stress about it. We’ll get married, wait for me to get my green-card, and then get a quick divorce. Easy.”

“Easy,” you repeat, not convinced. Natasha tells you to clear her schedule for today and get all the papers ready to go to the immigration office. By the time you’re done, she’s waiting at your desk for you. “Let’s get this over with. Did you make an appointment?”

“I don’t think you know how this works.”

You’re proved correct when she skips the line, cutting in front of tons of people.

“You can’t just do that,” you protest.

“I just did.” You sigh and follow her, apologizing to the people you just cut in front of.

“I need this to file for a fiancé visa, please,” she says. She slides the papers across the desk, and a man approaches.

“Ms. Romanoff?” he asks.

“Yes?” Natasha answers, looking up from her phone.

“I need you to follow me.”

She turns to you. “See, I know how to do this.” The man leads you to a small room with a table and three chairs. He sits in one and the two of you sit across from him.

“I’m Mr. Smith. And you just be her fiancé?” he asks, looking at you.

“Yes. That’s me. Natasha’s fiancé,” you say smoothly. Natasha kicks you under the table.

“We appreciate you seeing us on such short notice. It all just happened so quickly,” thanks Natasha.

“That it did,” you agree. She kicks you again.

“I just have one question to ask you, and then you can be on your way.” He turns to face you. “Are you marrying Ms. Romanoff to save her from being deported to Russia, therefore committing fraud which has a penalty of five years in prison?” You stare at him with his mouth open like an idiot. Natasha tries to speak up, but he stops her.

“Because that’s what we think you happen to be doing, let me explain the steps that you will have to go through.”

“First, we ask around. Friends and coworkers will be asked if they know anything about you. Then, we ask families. After that, we check phone records and sightings. Lastly, there’s an interview. You will be asked everything about each other. If there’s even a slight difference in your answers, Romanoff will be deported and you will be put into jail for at least five years under the charges of fraud.”

“Unfortunately, your scare tactics won’t work because I’m totally and completely in love with this woman,” says Natasha, startlingly convincingly.

“What she said,” you second, trying not to sound miserable.

“If you’re not going to cooperate, things are going to get worse.”

“Ms. Romanoff, have you told your family about the engagement?” he asks blandly.

“My birth mother is dead and even she didn’t know who my father was. My adoptive father just got out of prison in Russia and my mother is on a farm with no way to contact her,” states Natasha matter-of-factly.

“It says here that you have a sister, Yelena Belova.”

“I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Are you currently in contact with her?“

“Yes, but we don’t talk about our dating lives,” Natasha says.

“What about you, ma’am? Have you told your family?”

You try to stutter out an answer, but nothing of substance comes out. You look at Natasha, hoping for a lifeline.

She rolls her eyes at you. “We were going to tell her family this weekend. It’s Grammy’s birthday.”

“How old is she turning?”

“90. Right, baby?” Natasha asks you. You nod.

“That’s a big one. She can’t come here. Where does Grammy live?”

You’re completely positive that Natasha doesn’t know this. “Why am I answering all the questions? It’s her family,” laughs Natasha effortlessly.

“My family is from Sitka. Everyone but me lives there.”

“Fine. Friends? Do any of them know? Or does anyone at your work know?”

“We couldn’t tell them because…” Natasha looks at you for help.

“Because of my big promotion. I was going to be promoted to editor next year, which was a decision made before we started dating, and we didn’t want people to think-“

“Right,” he cuts you off. Mr. Smith sighs and tells you that you can go. “I’m warning you, though. I’ll make sure that this is real.”

“God forbid the book editors start taking over America,” mutters Natasha. “Thank you for your cooperation,” she calls back at Mr. Smith, flipping him off.

You walk quickly out of the building, Natasha right on your heels.

“We’re going to have to push back all of our meetings for this weekend. Can you call Steve and tell him? And we need to get a first class plane for today to Sitka. And get me the vegan meal, last time I had this terrible chicken salad,” says Natasha.

“I’m sorry, were you not in the same meeting as me? I could go to jail for doing this, and the only reason I am is so I probably don’t get fired,” you exclaim, halting your walking.

“Well, what do you want?” she asks impatiently.

“I want to be an editor.”

“I’m not promoting you to editor,” she laughs.

“Then I’m not doing this. Being your assistant for the next few years isn’t worth the possibility of jail. Have fun in Russia.”

“Fuck,” she groans. “Fine. Welcome to the fucking team.”

“And I want my manuscript published.”

“Ten thousand copies,” she agrees.

“And if I’m going to do this, you’re going to have to ask me nicely.”

“Fine. Marry me,” she says flatly.

“You can do better than that. Come on, get down on a knee and ask me to marry you.”

“I’m not doing that,” she hisses.

“Have fun in Russia, Natasha,” you reply cheerily, starting to walk away.

“Jesus. Okay, okay! I’ll do it.” Muttering insults under her breath, she slowly gets down on her knees. “Dearest love, will you marry me? Nothing would make me happier.”

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but I accept,” you say.

“You don’t really have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” you say lightly.

“Is it really a choice when one of the options is absolutely shitty?” she questions, still on the ground.

“Sure it is. I’ll see you at the airport.”

“You’re not going back to work?” she stands up clumsily, her skirt getting caught on her heel. It’s one of the only times you’ve seen her not the epitome of perfection. It’s almost endearing. It would be more so if she wasn’t asking you about work, but you’ll take baby steps.

“Fuck no. I’ve earned the day off. Bye sugarbear.”

“Piss off, homeycomb.”