#And Jeff the Shark! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dirtyvulture · 9 months

Text

Peeping Jeff

Natasha Romanoff x Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You and Natasha have some fun when an uninvited guest stops by.

Word count: 2095

AN: Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

No land sharks were harmed in the writing of this fic.

“Eyes on me,” Natasha says.

“Yes, ma’am,” you say, as if you’ll dare disobey her. Not when she’s dressed in the thinnest pair of black lingerie she owns and is currently rotating slowly around the stripper pole she had installed in the bedroom almost a month ago. It was probably the best investment the two of you ever made, and even Tony had to comment on its usefulness when he brought the contractors in.

You settle back in the bed, ready for your private show. You’re only wearing your boxers now and the bulge between your legs continues to tent as Natasha scales up the pole almost to the ceiling. She wraps her legs around it, wedging it in the crook of her knee to hold her weight while she lets go with her arms, leaning back until her hair cascades in a fiery red wave.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Natasha warns when she sees your hand moving towards your own crotch. You can’t always help yourself; seeing your girlfriend like this demands an attention that she is too far away to provide. You sigh in frustration, but force your hands back to your sides.

Natasha slides down the pole a few feet, tilting back until her head is lower than the rest of her body. Your eyes focus on her perfect breasts ready to spill out of their delicate cage and how perfectly they press together when she moves.

She suddenly releases her hold on the pole with her legs and she drops to the floor.

“Nat!” you cry, almost jumping off the bed until you see that she’s stopped herself just in time, now hovering inches off the floor.

“I’m fine,” she snips, almost like she’s upset you thought she had so little strength and would hurt herself.

“Okay, okay.”

As Natasha continues her performance, neither of you notice that it’s now become a public showing when two dark beady eyes look through the crack of the bedroom door that you’ve accidentally left slightly ajar. The eyes widen when they see Natasha and the silver, shiny pole. But after a few moments, they are distracted by the rumbling in their belly and continue padding down the hall to the kitchen.

By the time Natasha is off the pole and sauntering over to you, you’ve given up all restraint and are jerking yourself off in your boxers, stopping only when she climbs on top of you and grinds down on your crotch.

“Did you like my show?” Natasha asks, but it’s a pointless question.

“I loved it, baby,” you pant, tilting your head up desperately for a kiss. You don’t even notice she’s pulled your boxers off and her own panties until you suddenly feel her wetness brush against your cock. “Oh fuck, Nat.”

She sinks down without warning, enveloping you in perfect, silky heat. You buck up instinctively, trying to fit your entire length into her, the ache of arousal in the pit of your stomach slightly soothed as she surrounds you.

Natasha locks her hands around your neck to steady yourself as you thrust into her. You press your face into her chest, inhaling the scent of her skin and wrapping your arms around her back to keep her close to you.

“Right there, baby,” she moans as you jack your hips up until they slap against hers. “Keep going, keep going.”

“You’re always so tight around me,” you grunt, twitching at the sound of your slick cock sliding in and out of her. “You’re so perfect, Nat. Every part of you.”

She hums in agreement, bouncing on your cock and causing the whole bed frame to shake.

You hadn’t realized how turned on Natasha was over her own performance until her walls clamp around you, almost preventing you from pulling out, and her wetness dripping down your cock. You thrust up in one final, rough move, emptying yourself into her, your hips raised off the bed until your thighs are trembling from the effort before you collapse back down and Natasha rests on top of you.

The two of you stay like that for a long time, until your alarm goes off, alerting you that you have to get ready for the next event.

***********************************************************************

“I swear, we go to one of these a week,” Natasha says, snagging a martini from one of the passing waiters. She clinks it against your cocktail glass and the both of you take a sip in solidarity.

“You know Tony. Any excuse he has to party, he’ll put one on,” you respond, turning with her to face the crowd of people swaying on the dance floor. You swear you’ve never seen the same person twice at these parties and sometimes wonder if Tony just puts up a flier on the Internet advertising there’s a party at the Avengers Tower. It would explain the amount of times you’ve been asked to take pictures or sign autographs.

“You tired?” you ask Natasha as she sighs and leans against your arm.

“Not any more than usual.” You know she’s not a fan of these gatherings any more than you are.

“We can go soon,” you offer.

“It’s okay,” she says.

The two of you sit at the bar and try to avoid any other interactions. You bob your head absently to the beat of the music as Natasha drinks another martini. Bruce comes over, trying to strike up a conversation with Natasha as you glare at him with your arm looped firmly around her waist.

“Tony said he had a surprise for tonight,” Bruce says.

“Is it going to happen anytime soon? It’s almost our bed time,” Natasha yawns.

As if on cue, the music suddenly stops and the lights flash on to their full power. The crowd on the dance floor murmurs their annoyance as Tony appears on the DJ’s stage.

“Thank you to everyone who came out tonight!” he says. “I know I host a lot of these, and I’m always trying new things to keep them interesting. Behold, my latest addition to the Stark party experience!”

Tony holds his hands up, and the spotlights direct to a panel on the ceiling that slides back. Something silver and shiny pokes down, slowly revealing itself to be a singular, metal pole. It takes a second for it to click what it is.

“Oh God,” Natasha says, shaking her head.

“Is that a stripper pole?” Bruce asks.

“Yep,” you answer. “I wonder if he got the idea from the one we had installed in our room–”

Bruce turns on you incredulously. “Wait, you have a–”

“Who wants to give it a try?” Tony asks as the lights dim, all focus on the shiny silver pole now. No one in the crowd moves at first.

“I will give it a go!” a deep voice booms and Thor comes forward as people begin cheering and clapping for him.

“Oh, this will be good,” Natasha comments. You move closer to get a better view of your co-worker as he steps up to the pole, sizing it up for a few seconds before grabbing onto it firmly. Women start cheering as Thor hesitantly swings himself around the pole, as if he doesn’t trust such a flimsy object to support him, but with the encouragement of the crowd, he gains some confidence and starts to dance as if the pole is his partner.

“Only Tony could come up with something like this,” you say, impressed at how flexible the god of thunder is.

“This is definitely going online,” Bruce notes, counting the number of cellphones people have out to capture the moment.

“You want to give it a try, Nat?” you tease.

“Nope. Because that’s a show for you only,” she says, pressing against you to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“All right, all right, give it up for the god of thunder!” Tony says, gesturing for Thor to leave center stage as the crowd of women swarm him from your view. “Who’s up next?” His eyes sweep across the room, searching for another victim. You accidentally make eye contact with him and your heart drops as he points to you. “Come on over, Y/N–”

“Mrrrr.”

You pause mid-step as everyone hears the same noise echo in the room. It’s one you’re more than familiar with, but you aren’t quite sure it’s the right one you’ve heard until you see Jeff the land shark, in his one-foot tall glory, waddling towards center stage.

Murmurs carry around as the little shark approaches the silver pole and gives it a few sniffs.

“Is that Jeff?”

“What is he doing here?”

“Is he even old enough to be here?”

“Mrrrr!” he huffs indignantly at that last comment. When you pause to think about it, you aren’t really sure what Jeff’s age is. While he is a great deal smaller than his terrifying, fully-grown counterparts, rumor had it that Jeff aged just the same but simply did not outgrow his smaller form. So for all you knew, he was perfectly of age to be at a Tony Stark party.

“Give it up for Jeff the land shark!” Tony exclaims, increasing the volume of the music.

“Go, Jeff!” you shout and Natasha smacks your shoulder. “Ow, what was that for?”

“Do not encourage him! He’s just a baby and probably shouldn’t even be here–”

“We don’t know that for sure,” you defend.

“Watch him be better than Thor,” Bruce says.

Jeff stands on his hind legs to inspect the pole; you wonder if he has the grip strength to lift himself up. Natasha had lectured you on the difficulties of her new hobby, even offering you the opportunity to try it yourself, and while you were plenty strong, you had no flexibility or grace, thus resulting in a less-than-stellar show for her.

However, Jeff is already showing you up as he clutches onto the pole tightly with his fingers, pushing off the ground with his back feet and using his momentum to swing around the pole with his round body.

People scream and cheer at his first attempt. He steadies himself, carefully inching up the pole until he is at a height where everyone in the room could see him. He tilts his head back as he spins around the pole again, almost like he’s in slow-motion. You had no idea a land shark could be this graceful or fluid.

Everyone is entranced by his performance, as Jeff flaps his tail to propel himself faster around the pole. He dips back until he’s almost upside-down, before he lessens his grip on the pole just enough to come sliding down at a speed that drops your heart, but he stops before his head touches the floor.

The applause is raucous.

“Isn’t that what I did last night?” Natasha says suddenly, but you’re too enthralled to respond.

“He’s better than you, Nat,” you tease with a nudge. Jeff climbs up the pole again, then clamps his jaws around it, swinging his round body out in a move you can only describe as being the land shark version of a human flag–one of the most difficult calisthenic exercises you’ve ever tried to learn. But whereas it took you months of intensive training to achieve a human flag for even 5 seconds, Jeff seems to have flawless core strength as he holds his body out, perfectly perpendicular to the floor.

“YEAH, JEFF!” you scream, scaring Natasha. You’re probably one of the few people here who truly understand the difficulties of the exercise, and you want to make sure Jeff’s feat is appropriately appreciated.

Jeff takes the pole in his hands again, twirling around it while pausing in several positions with his legs split or kicked out. He mimes walking on air for a few seconds during his descent and if the crowd hadn’t been loud already, you’re pretty sure they’re going to shatter the windows. Jeff lands safely on the floor, bounding up and bowing as people take pictures and continue to cheer.

“I wonder where he learned how to do that,” Bruce says, clapping his hands.

“Yes,” Natasha agrees, a strange realization dawning on her but she’s too embarrassed to say it out loud. She will have to make sure the bedroom door is properly closed and locked from now on. “I wonder…”

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