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crescent-witch · 2 years

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Repaying Debts

pairings: biker!natasha x fem!reader

summary: Natasha has always kept her distance, until a certain club member goes too far with you

warnings: soft!dark!natasha, dub-con, possessiveness, jealousy, obsessive/stalker-ish behaviour, kinda rough sex, fingering, throat fucking, non-con tattooing/branding, branding, semi-public sex, mentions of exhibitionism | MINORS DNI

word count: 3.2k

a/n: im sorry, this is my first fic in over three months and it’s absolutely trash 😭 I had exams April/May and was recovering mentally in June

The club was already sweltering hot with the summer sun, every surface hot to the touch. The glass of vodka and coke you had been sipping on in between making drinks had long since went flat and warm, and you were red in the face.

Despite the growing heat, groups of leather clad members of the biker gang who had claimed the club as theirs sat in tight groups, huddled around small tables, having conversations so loud they all bled together.

The clubhouse was hardly a nice place, and you couldn’t imagine why anyone would voluntarily work there. You had no choice. College was expensive, and unfortunately for you, you had borrowed money from the gang that you had come up short of paying back. So there you were, working off your debt to the bikers in the form of serving drinks in the dimly lit hangout.

Your adorably soft summer dress and timid demeanour set you apart from the gang you were indebted to, however the contrast between you and those you worked for wasn’t what set you on edge. It was the pair of eyes tracing your every move from the corner of the room that had you forcing yourself to not even take a glance in that direction, green eyes darkening the more you ignored her.

Natasha Romanoff had all but branded you when you stepped into the club for the first time. Almost every member of the gang knew it, and those who didn’t soon found out when she inevitably pressed a gun to their head after flirting with you. Some walked away with a warning. Many fell to the ground with a bullet in their skull.

Even outside the walls of the dingy club, you were never safe from Natasha’s watchful eye. She never made an appearance, you never saw her outside of the club, but there were little signs which made it hard to deny that the redhead was watching you. Little dresses and pieces of jewellery you had been eyeing in a shop window often made an appearance at your doorstep the next day. Little cards with silly little hearts and messages were taped to your window, stuck to your windshield, slipped under your door. And the people who got a little bit too comfortable with you, got a little too close, were always dead on the news the next week, no matter how far away from the clubhouse you were when they chatted with you.

The entire club felt like it was compressing you. The heat, noise, and piercing eyes following you around the bar almost had you gasping for breathe. Everything felt too much, as if you could feel everything of the place you were in.

You manoeuvred your way around the side of the bar, heading towards the service entrance at the back of the club, sweat collecting along your hairline as your lungs begged for air that wasn’t tainted with the smell of beer or leather.

Your hand was about to reach for the handle as you approached the heavy door when suddenly a hand was gripping your waist, tugging you back from the outside world.

You spun around, expecting to be met with emerald green eyes, and you almost jumped in shock when stormy, hazel eyes met yours instead.

Carol Danvers was smiling down at your with an almost predatory grin, her hand still tight on your hip. “Where are you running off to, doll?” The tall blonde asked you, moving her body closer to yours under the guise of being heard above the crowd.

“Just need some fresh air,” you shrugged, attempting to inch closer to the door without moving too far away from Carol. You knew the woman was quick to anger, her temper only matched by Natasha’s.

“I think you just need a break from working,” Carol suggested. “Come dance with me.”

You were taken aback by her boldness. Carol had been in the gang long before you began paying back your debt, and she knew about Natasha’s possessiveness over you just as well as anyone.

But, nevertheless, you didn’t want to meet the fury of the blonde, so you allowed her hand to move from your waist to your hand and lead you towards the dance floor.

Carol’s hands clutched onto you as soon as you stepped onto the almost vacant dance floor, pulling your back flush against her as she ground her crotch into your ass, dominant hands running up and down your body.

The atmosphere in the room was practically suffocating you. You could feel her envious stare from the corner in which she was still sat in, but Carol had you positioned so you couldn’t face her, yet you could still feel her eyes drilling holes into you.

Carol wasn’t a complete idiot, she could sense the cold possession and jealousy seeping from the redhead, but her hands continued to roam your body, slowly running up and down your stomach and rising closer to your breasts by the second.

You didn’t even hear her approaching you over the noise of the club, just a flash of red hair before a hand gripped your forearm and you were being spun out of Carol’s grasp.

“Danvers,” Natasha sneered at Carol, her voice cutting through the tension in the air as she pushed you behind her slightly and the club suddenly fell silent, everyone watching the event unfolding in front of them. Carol glared at the her as she yanked you away from her. “You’re touching my property.”

“Oh come on, Romanoff,” Carol drawled, an arrogant smirk spreading across her face at Natasha’s clear annoyance. “I was just entertaining the sweet girl.”

Natasha’s whole body tensed as Carol continued to stare at you with a look that made Natasha want to shoot her.

“Nat, are you okay?” Steve, another club member asked, noticing the signs of Natasha’s violent behaviour.

“Yeah Nat, you ought to chill out.”

You were barely pushed out of the way before Natasha’s fist connected with Carol’s nose, a sickening crack ringing out as Carol’s head snapped backwards, and she was suddenly clutching her nose in agony.

“Hill,” Steve nodded Maria Hill over, who was silently chuckling at the situation, “why don’t you go and help Danvers patch up?”

You didn’t even have time to react to the situation before a cold hand was wrapped around your wrist, the temperature in contrast to your hot skin, and you were being dragged away from Carol, who was yelling slurred profanities at Natasha.

Natasha swung the door to the dingy bathroom at the back of the club open, pulling you along behind her. Before the bathroom door was even closed your stomach was pressed against the cold marble of the countertop, cooled by the buzzing air conditioner on the wall opposite, trapped against it by Natasha’s hard muscles and hot touch. Natasha’s eyes met yours in the mirror, and you were shocked to see her pupils constricted, her eyes mostly green and jealousy swirling within them.

“You’re so sweet,” Natasha murmured into you as she pressed her face into your neck, her lips grazing the skin there, “so breakable. Just for me, hm? Danvers is never gonna see you like this.”

You pressed the palms of your hands against the countertop, trying to do something, anything to distract yourself from Natasha’s hands exploring your skin, occasionally groping your breast or skimming your thigh as her mouth continued to attack your neck.

“Come on detka, I asked you a question,” Natasha encouraged you with false sweetness, her hands roughly grabbing at you being the only sign of her patience wearing thin. “You’re never gonna let her see you like this, are you? So delicate and just begging to be fucked.”

You shook your head as best you could with Natasha still nestled in the crook of your neck, but the harsh slap to your thigh indicated that she wasn’t happy with your non-verbal answer.

“No,” you choked out, Natasha’s ministrations clouding over your brain and making it hard to think. “She won’t see me like this, I swear.”

“Good girl,” Natasha practically purred, and the praise nearly had you sighing as you melted into her. Her touches became gentle and for a moment you were able you were able to forget your situation. Forget that you were letting the formidable biker grope your body while you hung on to the countertop for dear life, and she had barely even started to touch you.

“I wish I could show you off, show that bitch who you belong to,” Natasha growled, removing her head from your neck in favour of looking you in the eyes. “But I want out first time to be special, pretty girl. I want it to be just the two of us.” You nodded in agreement, choosing to ignore the fact that the only thing separating you and Natasha from the rest of the club was the bathroom door.

“I’m going to have to show you off at some point though, detka. You’re too pretty not to. Maybe tie you up and have you on display,” the thought made you shiver. With disgust or arousal, you weren’t sure. “Wanda’s been wanting to see your pretty tits for so long,” she accentuated her point by tugging the straps of your dress down, her thumbs immediately finding your bare nipples as the dress fell to your waist, the back of the dress having been too low for you to wear a bra. “And Valkyrie’s been itching to get her hands on your lovely skin,” the mention of the buff biker sent a rush down your spine. You knew Valkyrie wasn’t her real name (her birth name was something like Brunnhilde, at least that’s what you had heard some others say). Despite being one of Natasha’s closest friends, you often found her looking you up and down. And, to your surprise, Natasha allowed it.

“For now it’ll just be us,” Natasha told you, tugging your dress down all the way, and you pouted slightly when you heard it lightly land on the floor that was more than likely covered in millions of bacteria.

The thoughts of your probably now ruined dress quickly left your mind however, when Natasha cupped you over your underwear, and you realised you were stood in the bathroom in nothing except your thin cotton panties and the tennis shoes who had worn that day. It was then that you started praying to every god you could think of that nobody would suddenly need to pee.

“I can feel you through your panties,” Natasha told you, almost mockingly, as a finger began tracing along your covered slit and the small wet patch on your underwear began to grow embarrassingly quickly.

Quiet whines left your mouth as Natasha continued to tease you, the cotton rubbing against your pussy just barely giving you a taste of what you needed.

“Aww, is my girl getting all needy and worked up?” Natasha cooed as you began to rock your hips against her, any hesitance you had before quickly wiped away as you felt your thoughts turning to only those of Natasha and the ways you wanted her to touch you.

“Please,” you whimpered, your resolve breaking down as Natasha dipped her hand into your underwear and ran her fingers through your folds, collecting your slick on her fingers.

You whined loudly, an obvious complaint, when Natasha withdrew her hand from your panties, inspecting her now wet fingers in front of you, as if she was showing you how easy it was for her to get you to break.

“You need my fingers, princess?“ She asked, ignoring your pitiful whines and nodding and instead pressed her fingers, still covered in your juices, to your lips.

“Clean me off and if you’re a good girl I’ll fuck you, okay?”

You nodded, groaning around her fingers as they were shoved into your mouth. Natasha smirked as you wrapped your lips around her digits and began sucking, coating them in your saliva. She pushed she fingers back until she elicited gagging sounds from your mouth and your eyes were watering.

“As soon as I get you into my bed, I’m gonna have you suck my strap instead,” Natasha whispered in your ear, her breath tickling your ear and her words filling your mind with lewd thoughts of Natasha forcing you to your knees and pushing her faux cock past your lips, uncaring whether you gag or drool as she fucks your throat.

The image in your mind of her standing above you, wearing a spit-covered strap and stroking your cheek almost made you whimper out loud when Natasha suddenly withdrew her fingers from your mouth, causing you to whine pathetically and chase her fingers.

“You got lost in the clouds there, baby,” Natasha pouted, lowering her hand and trialing her fingers across your inner thigh, tugging your panties down until they joined your dress, discarded below you. “Did the thought of my strap distract my dumb girl? I need you to focus on me, detka. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded, eager to have Natasha’s fingers grazing the back of your throat again, but you frowned when her hand stayed on your thigh, and quickly bit your lip to stifle a moan when two of her digits suddenly entered your pussy.

Natasha hummed in appreciation as your walls tightened around her fingers and you let out a breathy moan, her fingers stilling inside you after the initial thrust. You whined in frustration after a moment, rocking your hips against her hand.

“Whiny baby. You want me to move them?” Natasha asked, pouting in mock sympathy when you whimpered at a twitch of her fingers inside of your cunt.

“Please, please move them,” You practically whispered as you were flooded with embarrassment. Allowing Natasha to fuck you was one thing, but begging her to was another completely.

“Hmmm,” Natasha contemplated, the anticipation nearly driving you mad before you screamed out in pleasure, Natasha’s fingers driving deep into you until her knuckles brushed against your folds.

“Shhh, just relax for me princess,” Natasha cooed, your whole body tensing as she harshly pumped her fingers in and out of you, ducking your pussy harder than you had ever imagined she’d be able to.

Your screams never ceased, even as Natasha peppered kisses down your neck and shoulder, sucking at your pulse point and making you scream her name. If you weren’t so lost in the feeling of pure Natasha, you’d probably be crying at the fact that the entire club can more than definitely hear your wanton moans and screams from the other side of the door.

Now when her eyes met yours in the mirror as she removed her lips from your neck, the green was barely forming a band around her blown out pupils, her eyes almost entirely black from pleasure and lust.

Natasha’s hand left the marble counter where she had been previously gripping the stone, further trapping you between the counter and herself, to swipe at your clip. The action had you melting against her, your knees almost buckling as you let out loud, unrestrained moans.

“Aww detka, are you close?” Natasha asked as you clenched around her, dripping down her hand with your arousal, and you could feel your stomach tightening as your pleasure grew.

“Mhm,” you nodded, not able to form many more words than that, biting your lip to try and control your sounds that were rapidly growing louder with every thrust of Natasha’s fingers and circle of your clit.

“It’s okay, you can let go for me. Be a good girl and just let it all go.”

The band that had been tightening almost painfully in your stomach finally snapped, your orgasm hitting you as you came hard on Natasha’s fingers. Her hand quickly left your clit, moving to wrap around your waist and hold you against her as you almost flopped to the ground. Sobs wracked your body as your head fell against Natasha’s shoulder and her fingers still pumped lazily inside of you.

“That’s a good girl,” Natasha muttered into your ear as her thrusts slowly came to a stop and she removed her fingers, cum dripping from them as she prodded at your lips once again. “Just one more, baby. Then you’re done, I promise. Then you can sleep.”

With the promise of sleep as your exhaustion from your long shift and Natasha’s fucking caught up to you, you brought Natasha’s fingers into your mouth once again. Although this time she didn’t roughly shove her fingers it the back of your throat, enjoying your gag reflex as you took her. This time she was gentle, her fingers just resting on your tongue as she let you dazedly lick your cum from them, your eyes fluttering closed as you sucked.

Natasha pulled her fingers out once again, and for the final time that night, wiping her fingers on her shirt, uncaring of your saliva and the small remainder of cum on them. You fell into her arms, trying to fight off the tired dog in your mind as Natasha pulled your dress back up your body, leaving your panties on the floor for whoever to find as she manoeuvred out of the bathroom.

Club members not-so-subtly stared as you exited the bathroom. Even if they hadn’t heard your explicit activities from through the door, your disheveled and weary state would have been a dead giveaway.

You expected Natasha to carry you all the way out of the club, perhaps borrowing another members car or waiting until the cold air woke you up enough for you to ride on her bike so she could take you home. Well, not to your home. Her home.

However, it didn’t appear as if she was taking you anywhere as she unceremoniously dropped you on the stray sofa that had been placed in the clubhouse two years prior to try and liven up the place, throwing you an apologetic look when you groaned in pain from the impact, stroking your hair as she sat by your head.

Assuming she had more work to do, you tried your best to make yourself comfortable lying on the worn purple sofa, curling into Natasha as sleep almost overtook you.

You were so close when a faint buzzing had you snapping your eyes open and someone was suddenly gripping your arm, holding it in place.

“What the hell,” you murmured, still drowsy as Bucky, another member and the resident tattoo artist, lowered the machine towards your arm.

“NO! GET AWAY FROM ME!” You screamed, weakly fighting against Bucky as Natasha restrained your other arm, calling Steve over to still your legs and immobilise you.

“No. No, please don’t do this,” you cried as the needle inched towards your arm and Bucky glanced at you, almost with regret.

“It’s alright baby, just relax. It’ll be over soon,” in other circumstances you might have laughed at Natasha practically repeating the same words she had told you not even minutes ago when she was fucking into you, but you were too scared shitless to even speak, the only sound leaving you being a shrieking, pained scream as the needle pierced into your arm and Natasha’s lips landed on your forehead, a tearful “I’m sorry” whispered to you as she listened to your sobs and the beginning lines of ‘Property of Natasha Romanoff’ were tattooed into your arm.

#dark natasha romanoff #biker nat #black widow #natahsa romanoff smut #dark fic #biker au #c: carol #c: natasha #briar writes

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