#c: natasha
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@bekah-barber continued from x.
"Oh honey, if you can't handle this, you won't be able to be a hero. Being a hero is much more complicated than this," Nat explained as she kept a grip on the other's chin as she smirked down at her. "I can make your head stop hurting though if you follow my instructions."
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Sacraligious
DemonNat! X reader
Warnings: corruption, dubious content, it’s demon sex outside a church
(Happy birthday @caroldantops >:3)
Growing up, you were never one to go out of line, even dip one toe out into where you weren’t supposed to be. Living in a religious small town instilled the literal fear of God into you; you were a good girl, always doing what she was told. Graduated with honours, got accepted into the accelerated program of a nursing major, succeeded in every step you took in life. And yet, when you went off to college, nothing really changed, except the morbid curiosity you had as a child only grew. What would it be like to disobey, just for a minute, and revel in it…
You were visiting home for the month, almost done with your degree. The sleepy town you grew up in was still hazy in early summer, the crickets still chirped in the evenings and fireflies danced in the small hours of night. You had chosen to go to church early, walking the trails of the back garden with its flood of white lilies.
That’s where you saw her for the first time.
She almost slipped from your vision, she was so deeply intertwined with the shade. Her red hair blended with the leaves of the maple trees, the dark leather of her jacket mixing with the shadows that hid her. The thing that caught you were her eyes: dark green and piercing with…you couldn’t place what exactly, but they were intoxicating.
She was next to you in a superhuman second. “Hello there. Haven’t seen you around here before.” Her voice was gravelly and deep, but sweet enough to set your heart on fire.
“I’m-I’m home for the summer. Don’t get to come to church here that often anymore.” Your voice quivered with…fear? Anticipation? Though you weren’t sure why, she seemed passable enough (though not many people wore leather to church anymore).
“How interesting.” A hand snaked its way over to your shoulder and started petting it. Her nails were long, almost clawlike to your eyes, and her touch made you swoon slightly. “My name’s Natasha. What’s yours?”
Your name comes out in a stammer, and she smiles wide when she hears it. She tests it out a few times, and hearing your name come off her lips makes your heart skip a beat or three.
“Absolutely delectable. You don’t seem like the general…population that comes soaring through these doors. What makes you so different…”
Your whole body feels like it was set aflame, and you back up slightly, only for Natasha to pin you to the back wall of the church. A warm feeling settles in the pit of your stomach and starts travelling lower.
Natasha notices your blush and bares a wide smile. “Did I say you could leave yet, precious? No no, I have much more to say to you, and by the looks of things, much more you can do for me.”
“But service will be starting soon-”
“All the better, I think.” Her lips are suddenly crashing into yours, biting your lip and sucking on your tongue. Then it occurs to you, her tongue is forked. It hits you all over…she isn’t all human. Natasha sees the realisation on your face and smirks. “That’s right doll, I’m not your average churchgoer. Now you can walk in there and forget all about me. But I don’t think you want to do that, I think you want to stay out here with me and have a real good time.”
Your brain is screaming “leave, go be with your family” but your body won’t move. That morbid curiosity is tying you here, wondering just what she could do to you on God’s holy ground. You give a careful nod, whispering, “Okay…I’ll stay.” There was a brief moment where time seemed to pause, as if the universe was taking your name on the dotted line.
“Good girl.” Natasha’s lips were on your neck now, fangs slightly nipping into your skin. “Goddamn, angel, you taste so fucking good. And this is just your neck, I wonder what the rest of you tastes like.”
A guttural whimper escapes your mouth and your hips meet Natasha’s thigh, grinding slightly at the contact. She only tsk’s slightly, taking the time to tease your want by slipping her thigh further between your legs. “Naughty little thing you are, trying to rush me before I’m ready. I shouldn’t indulge in your neediness…but you’re just so tempting.” Your hips buck wantonly on her thigh, the ache between your own legs only growing stronger each second. You’d never felt this strongly before about anything, but you needed; you didn’t know what it was you needed exactly but you knew that only she could give it to you.
Natasha wasted no time in popping the buttons off your blouse and exposing your chest to the quiet summer sun. Her nails tiptoed their way up the middle of your chest to your collarbone, and one finger slides down and runs its way around your hardened nipple. The little gasps your uttering only make her smirk more. “So pretty, little one. I can tell no one has made you feel this good before, so sweet and innocent. All mine right now.”
A little cry erupts from your mouth as she leans down and latches her mouth around your nipple, forked tongue flicking over the sensitive skin and fangs just slightly piercing; not enough to break skin but enough to make you feel even more intense.
Suddenly you feel the wall of the church at your back as you’re being pinned there, arms above your head with one hand and Natasha, still latched on your chest, is putting one hand up your skirt, pushing aside your underwear and one delicate finger pushes into your wet heat. You’re practically dripping down your legs and her finger enters you just as an audible moan escapes from your lips. “Pplease-“
“Oh now, little one, careful what comes out of that pretty mouth. The window is open and someone could hear your sinfully beautiful moans,” Natasha purrs in your ear, finger still buried deep in your cunt, almost teasing you to see how needy you could get. You don’t dare move, the pressure between your legs is so intense you could scream but the woman before you was far too imposing to try being a brat about this whole situation.
Suddenly you’re left empty, as Natasha takes her finger and licks it, keeping her smile wide and her eyes on you as she does. “Fuck angel…I knew you were going to taste good but, damn, I never thought-I was going to fuck you but I need more of that sweet cunt first.” And then she’s pulling your skirt and white cotton panties down and your legs instinctively fall open. If anyone saw you now…but you couldn’t think about that, your head was too fuzzy with arousal. She positions herself between your legs and the first lap of her tongue on your cunt makes your legs go weak. Her nose bumps that nose sensitive spot between your legs as her tongue licks and sucks everywhere it can. When it enters you, deeper than it seems it should, you cry out, muffled by the singing of the hymnals in the building. “Please, I need…more…so good Natasha, it’s so good-““I know, precious.” Her voice echoes in your ear, though her mouth is busy between your legs. “I can feel you want to come, sweet thing. Go on, indulge me; come for me.”
It washes over you like a heatwave; the sensation is new and exciting and your legs start to crumble from the sheer pleasure of it all. Natasha holds your legs up, licking every drop of liquid that gushes from your cunt. You can hear the choir reach a high point as you tumble over the edge again; Natasha hasn’t stopped the onslaught of her tongue as she pulls a second orgasm from you. You could swear her rhythm matches the sway of the music bellowing from the windows, but then again, there was a demon buried in between your thighs; anything was possible.
Time slows down as the redhead pulls herself away from your leaking cunt and licks her lips c a wicked grin forming on her face. “You precious thing, moaning along to the choir as if you were there yourself. I’ll have to play with you some more sometime.”
“You-you’re leaving? After that?” You’re bolder than you were however many minutes ago, considering what just happened. You didn’t think you’d challenge a demon that just gave you a taste of corruption and let you live to tell the tale.
Natasha is suddenly pinning you against the wall again, but more intimately; her hands croon the sides of your face and her tail sweeps along your skirt hem, almost in a preening manner. “Don’t you worry angel, you haven’t seen the last of me. After all…fucking a demon outside a church isn’t getting you anywhere but in between *my* thighs next time.” A whimper slips out of your mouth but before you can say anything more, she’s gone. Almost on cue, a familiar voice calls out behind you, asking where you’ve been since the service started! You don’t give an answer, only a simple “dunno” as you walk in the building, trying not to let the flames inside you burn even higher.
#c: natasha#demon!nat x reader#tw dubcon#natasha romanoff x reader#tw dark fic#natasha romanoff smut
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freak in the sheets
ship: ghost!natasha romanoff x reader
summary/request: natasha misses you.
word count: 975
warnings: kinda dark? (dubcon/noncon), smut (18+), mild angst, possessive natasha (but not in a ghost possession way), marking, somnophilia, voyeurism, vaginal sex (oral and fingering, reader receiving)
masterlist | monsterfucker celebration 2022 masterlist
The way that your body looks in the soft glow of the moonlight should be painted and framed for the world to see. But Natasha is selfish. She'd tear it down as soon as the first patron dared lay their eyes on you.
It’s ironic, really. For a ghost to be possessive.
Though, as much as Natasha hates that you aren’t hers anymore, she’d never possess you. You aren’t even aware that her spirit is still present in the apartment. She’s kind of surprised you haven’t moved, really, after five years of her being gone.
You’ve certainly moved on in other ways, if the woman you’re sleeping naked with is any indication. It’s nice knowing that you’re not letting your mourning for her hold you back, unlike a certain super soldier she knew.
But it still hurts. If she still had bones, she’d feel the ache that deep.
Natasha could’ve revealed herself to you in some way, but she’s always been hesitant to do so. The last thing she wants is for you to be afraid or upset by her state. She already had to endure you crying over the old photos of the two of you, there was no way she would be able to handle your face cowering in fear at the sight of her.
The only time she felt brave enough to make contact with you was while you were sleeping. You rarely stirred when her cold hands touched you. Even when she did rouse you by accident, you would sleepily look around, assume it was a dream, and flop back into your pillow. All she would do is stroke your face or back gently, like she used to when she was still alive and would have those restless nights.
Tonight is different. Natasha had to sit back and watch you have slow, mediocre sex with this random person from the bar your friends dragged you to. She winced every time the woman tried to leave a hickey on your skin, satisfied to see you ask her not to mark you, making an excuse about not wanting to have to cover it up.
Deep down, you knew you still belonged to her.
Natasha was the only one who could mark you like that, biting into your supple flesh, soothing over the blossoming bruise with her tongue, taking photos of them like trophies.
She's careful not to stir either you or your new friend awake as she carefully pulls the sheet from your body. The woman next to you grumbles, making Natasha pause, but all she does is tug the sheet the rest of the way off and roll over.
"Thanks, I guess," Natasha mumbles to herself. She swallows hard at the sight of you laid out for her. It hasn't been that long since she's gotten to appreciate you like this, given the fact that you often put on a show for her with your vibrator between your legs, whether you knew it or not.
But during those times, she restrained herself and kept to sitting at the edge of the bed, admiring the way you squirmed under your own touch like you used to hers. Tonight, she spoils herself. She hesitantly lays a hand on your thigh, eyes on your face the entire time so she'll know if you start to wake up.
Your face stays content and asleep, so Natasha continues her path up, up, up your legs. Her fingers tuck slightly under the edge of your panties. She leaves them on you, not wanting to risk the shuffling, simply pushing them to the side so she can see your pussy.
"So beautiful, baby," she says to no one. You wouldn't be able to hear her unless she wanted you to, and for now, she doesn't. She just wants you to get a good night's rest.
When Natasha's tongue comes in contact with your cunt, she swears she's died again and actually gone to Heaven this time. Even though her form leaves her senses dulled, she can feel and taste enough to let her eyes shut with pleasure. You shift under her, never waking up, but she knows you must be having a lovely dream right now.
She takes her time bringing you undone. After all, she's got nowhere to be, so she might as well enjoy teasing your clit and pushing two fingers into you.
"You missed this too, yeah?" Natasha hums against your folds. "I wonder if that orgasm she gave you was even real. It was nothing compared to what I used to do to you. Missed you so fucking much. My good baby."
Your climax doesn't hit hard, but rather comes in slow waves. Natasha watches your body shudder involuntarily under her touch, almost like it can't comprehend the pleasure running through it.
She pulls back immediately when the sensations wake you up. The words that leave your lips as you sit up in bed make Natasha's no-longer-existent heart ache.
"Nat?"
She watches as you look over to your side, only to find the still sleeping woman next to you, turned with her back towards you. You sigh, squeezing your thighs together, deciding silently that it must have just been a wet dream.
You roll over on your side, tugging the blanket back towards you as you face the wall where a photo of the two of you is still hanging. Natasha drifts into the living room after you fall asleep again, refusing to let herself cry over the despondent way you called out for her.
After that night, it becomes routine for Natasha to join you in bed. Sometimes you had an occasional lover. Most of the time it was just the two of you, and she could pretend like things were at least a little normal again as she indulged herself between your thighs.
#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff smut#c: natasha#silver's 2022 mf celebration#silver writes#noncon tw#dubcon tw#darkfics#dark!natasha
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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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@theeclipse continued from x.
"Let me get this straight, it's bad for me to bottle up my emotions and weigh myself down with bad memories.... But it's perfectly fine if it's you? I've told you many things I'm not fond of talking about and I know Stacey has too."
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Agatha (obviously) and/or Natasha Romanoff
Agatha I immediately was like bam bam bam
Nat was so hard 😭😭😭 Especially in concerns to MCU!Nat... I tried to like. Really get into her and I. Didn't. (Avengers Assemble Nat is an entirely different story.)
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🍿 - for our muses to visit the food vendors together ; @blxckwidcw
"I'm so glad I get to eat normal food again," she mused as she followed her to one of the booths. "I swear to God, I was in a constant state of morning sickness the entire time."
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🔥- for our muses to sit by the bonfire ; @blxckwidcw
"Hi." He smirked and sat down beside her. "Taking a break? Or is this your way of politely sneaking away from everyone else?"
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starter for @headcanonsandmore7
—- ☆ RETIREMENT, Peggy was told, was supposed to look good on anyone. To her, it kept her restless. It was yet another day, where she was absent from duty. As she got up, her bones ached from where she had broken them in the past. Thankfully, today she was called into the office. However, she was left uneasy by the fact no one told her why she should have arrived.
Her heels clicked on the glossed-over wooden floors as she walked with a straight back and a gate of a soldier. Peggy cocked a brow at the sight of Natasha there as well. “So, they decided to call in the calvary too? Did they at least inform you what this is all about?”
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@offollies | steve rogers + natasha romanoff
He hated the Killiseum. The air here felt wrong. Dark, harsh, thick with cheering. The battles set his teeth on edge: the sight of them all, trussed up and trotted out, made to fight for nothing but a horrible little man’s fragile little ego. He knew the feeling. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone. (And don’t get him wrong; Steve Rogers loved a good fight. But you had to be fighting for something, and it was better if you picked it yourself.) He avoided the place as much as he could, but it was a surefire way to find Natasha.
He held a crumpled paper bag up by way of greeting. “I brought you muffins,” Steve said. “Thought you could use a break. We’ve got blueberry, lemon poppyseed, and... to be honest, I think it might be bran.” Instead of opening the bag to check, he looked at her; then glanced up towards the ceiling, where he was sure Doom must have arranged a complex set of cameras; then back to her, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly. Can we go somewhere Doom’s not watching?
#c: natasha#natasha: snack delivery#offollies#i can do this all day ; threads#lmk if this is alright!! happy to change
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ohhhh fuckckkkk my guys. my classic russian novel protagonists from books that are titled [WORD] and [ANTONYM]. lets kill them
#war and peace#natasha pierre and the great comet of 1812#great comet#crime and punishment#c&p#pierre bezukhov#rodion romanovich raskolnikov#raskolnikov#meshi art
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@glitchexmachina continued from x.
"And here I was thinking you really were just happy to see me," Natasha teased softly with a hum as she moved closer to him. "Though hearing that you would've started teasing someone other than me makes me a little upset. But I will forgive you and help your ouchies feel much better," she replied as she reached over to start teasing him.
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“you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.” from natasha
“ Y’know, that’s funny, because I could say the same to you, ”
Rebecca replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She knew this was just Natasha trying to mark her territory, as the newest agent. It was a cutthroat business they were in, even she and Dan had their back-and-forth. While Rebecca wouldn’t admit didn’t feel threatened by the other woman, she knew Natasha’s reputation, she knew had to play a little dirty back to let her know how things worked around Nightingale-Hart. Mainly, that she was the one calling the shots.
“I have a call with Phoebe Waller-Bridge in five. So whatever this little attempt at... whatever this is, make it quick.”
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discord and rhyme
ship: werecat!wanda maximoff x werewolf!natasha romanoff x reader
summary/request: raising twins doesn’t leave much opportunity to indulge your wives, so you make the most of the time you have. sequel to by the moonlight side.
word count: 1k
warnings: smut (18+), vaginal sex (reader receiving), allusions to past pregnancy + pregnancy sex, lactation kink, breeding kink mentions, knotted straps
masterlist | monsterfucker celebration 2022 masterlist
"And you promise you won't give them too many sweets before bed this time?"
"Yes, yes, no sweets. God, you're even less fun than Natasha," Yelena rolls her eyes. She looks down at the two boys that are each holding one of her hands. "Isn't that right, boys?"
"Next time you give them ice cream before bed, I'm going to call you over to fix their sleep schedules," you shake your head. Yelena ignores you as she usually does, tugging the twins along behind her. You watch from your porch as she struggles to strap them into the car seats you forced her to borrow. A pair of arms wrap their way around your waist, lips against your neck.
“She hasn’t even driven away yet, you know,” you say, leaning into the woman behind you. By the height, you know it’s Wanda. Figures, Natasha would never risk her sister seeing her show any affection.
“Come back inside then,” Wanda mumbles against the shell of your ear, sharp teeth nipping at your skin. “Natasha’s losing her patience.”
“What’s new?” You chuckle, allowing Wanda to drag you back to the house.
Every time the full moon comes around, the three of you get someone to take the twins for a couple of nights. Partially because the process of Wanda and Natasha's shifting was loud and woke the boys from their much needed rest. But mainly because the two were still so insatiable on the nights leading up to their shift that they desperately needed you to themselves, uninterrupted.
As soon as you’re through the door, Natasha comes out of seemingly nowhere and sweeps you off your feet. You squeal, wiggling in her grasp as she carries you unceremoniously to the bedroom. Wanda follows close behind, giggling eagerly. She drops you on the mattress and you land with a soft oof.
“God, I thought Yelena would never leave,” Natasha mutters, unbuckling her belt and tossing it aside. Wanda starts tugging at your clothes, pulling your soft hoodie up over your head, and immediately starts mouthing at your neck. Even though Natasha is waiting less than patiently, she still allowed Wanda to have her fun. She waits with a leg propped up on the end of the bed, her pants unzipped enough for her to stroke her thick, knotted strap.
You squirm as Wanda’s lips reach your nipple, tongue flattening over the bud before tracing the edges. Even though it's been years, you'll never fully get used to the feeling of that rough, werecat tongue against your sensitive areas.
"I know the boys are a handful, but maybe..." Wanda presses her cheek against the curve of your chest. Her fingers dance over the opposite nipple, keeping it standing at attention. She looks up at you with pleading eyes and an exaggerated pout on her lips.
"You know I love you more than anything, but fuck no," you laugh and poke her nose. "Just because a certain kitten got addicted to milk does not mean I will get pregnant again."
Natasha bites her lip, squeezing her strap hard at the memories from your pregnancy. It was hard for you, carrying the twins. Especially since no one knew whether the mix of DNA that Bruce helped develop was going to produce werecubs or not. But Wanda and Natasha's doting on you was amplified to an intense degree. Their nesting instincts had them waiting on you hand and foot.
Their more primal instincts were also amplified. Natasha, for as strong as her desire to breed you always has been, never expected for the sight of you pregnant to drive her absolutely insane. She spent twice the number of nights with her face stuffed between your thighs as she usually did. She'd have spent every night there if you'd let her.
And as hesitant as Wanda was at first about participating in "potentially strenuous activities" as she had worded it, she was so enticed by the way your breasts swelled when your milk started coming in that she couldn't resist latching herself there. You constantly told her that she was going to milk you dry before the twins were even born, but she just rolled her eyes and told you that's not how it works.
Natasha is pulled out of her daydreaming by the sharp moan that Wanda pulls from you. She's got one hand between your thighs as she sucks a dark hickey into your boob, smirking against your skin at the way you drip around her.
"That's my job," Natasha growls, positioning herself between your thighs and nudging Wanda's hand away. Wanda looks up at her, offended.
"Excuse me, do we need to teach you about sharing along with the boys?"
Natasha ignores her and pushes her cock into you, pushing your leg up towards your chest to get a deeper angle. You hiss at the stretch, but your body is accustomed to Natasha's penchant for huge toys and adjusts quickly.
"Your pussy just swallows my cock, baby," Natasha groans. "So good."
Wanda, having been rudely pushed out of the way, settles against your side, her hands toying with your clit as Natasha fucks you. She kisses the edge of your mouth, relishing in the broken whimpers you let out.
“So pretty, darling.”
“Th-thank you,” you moan out, barely coherent enough to realize what you’re saying.
“How many times do you think we can make you cum this weekend?” Natasha says with a particularly hard thrust that has your cunt gushing around her. She laughs at the mess, using it as an opportunity to keep the rough pace up.
“At least twenty, I’m sure,” Wanda hums, wiping up your mess with her fingers and sucking them between her lips. “Maybe we can break the record from last time.”
“Maybe I should break out the cum strap again,” Natasha says, satisfied with the way you clench around her. “You think the boys would like a younger sibling?”
“Natasha, we’ve talked about this,” Wanda scolds her since you’re so fucked out she’s thinks you might agree. “The twins are more than enough.”
“A wolf can dream, can’t she?”
#wanda maximoff x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#wandanat x reader#s: wandanat#c: wanda#c: natasha#silver's 2022 mf celebration#silver writes
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the red means i love you
ship: vampire!wandanat x reader
summary: the voices in your head come to say hello
warnings: darkfic!, manipulation, vamp powers, fingering (r receiving), anal, double penetration, mommy natasha, daddy wanda, slight blood kink, blood-drinking, dumbification, pet names (detka, malyshka, kitten)
word count: 1.2k
a/n: this is so terrible, I’m so sorry 🥲
“Kitten,” the echo ran through your apartment, or maybe the voice was all in your head. You weren’t sure anymore. There were two voices, constantly coming and going. Some days they were relentless, screaming in your mind until they overruled even your own thoughts and all you could do was lay in bed under the covers, as if your thick comforter could block out whatever madness was affecting you, like the voices could be dulled by some cotton. Some days they went quiet, barely a whisper in your mind.
You couldn’t match the voices to any face, either. You’d never heard them before the day they first muttered to you.
All you could do was ignore them as best you could and try to not think about the fact that you were slowly going mad.
Your hands shakily sifted through the pictures scattered across the coffee table in front of you. The polaroids that had been stuck to your windshield and shoved into your mailbox and appeared randomly wherever you went for weeks. The explicit photos of you getting fucked in every position, some you didnt even know existed, your eyes screwed shut in sleep.
You had tried everything to ward them off. Looking up how to enduce insomnia, practically injecting redbull and monster into your veins, anything you and the internet could think of. But every night you succumbed to sleep and a new photograph appeared.
You couldn’t decide if the voices were doing you a kindness, or if you would rather be unaware. It would still happen anyway, but perhaps you would’ve been happier if you didn’t know how the voices in your head materialised to use you every night. It would still happen, of course, but maybe blissful ignorance would be better.
“Malyshka,” as much as you longed to turn around, to try and face your tormentors, you didn’t want to play their sadistic game.
The voices continued, begging you to turn around, to let them see your pretty face. You refused, ripping up more of the pictures that had appeared to you since they arrived.
“Stop.”
“Please.”
“Detka, behave.”
“Brat.”
They got harder and harder to ignore the harsher their words got.
At one point you swore you felt their hot breath against your neck as they softly spoke to you. But, stupid or not, you held your ground and kept your eyes down. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction, because you know as soon as you turn to face them you’ll break into nothing.
“Please, sweetheart.”
You had to remind yourself that it was an act, a trick. That the sadness in the voice was fake, they didn’t really care about you.
Your resolve only broke when a cold hand brushed against your neck while stroking your hair, alerting you immediately that the voices were no longer living inside your mind.
Your head whipped around to see a redhead lounging on your sofa, as if it was her house that you were sitting in. Her hair bounced over her shoulders in soft curls, over her strong biceps. Her outfit wasn’t mediaeval, as you had so often pictured the voices to wear when you found yourself drifting off to their shushed tones, but it was certainly gothic, vampiric even. It suited her, you decided. The dark shirt, sleeveless and showing off her toned muscles. The black pants that were baggy and hung in different places and yet somehow still looked good on her. The heavy leather combat boots that were suddenly giving you some very unholy thoughts, which you quickly shook from your head.
She grinned at you, excitedly, as you just stared at her.
“Oh, finally!” She looked like she was told Christmas had just come early.
“Aw, come on, Natty,” the second voice butted in, and you turned to face the doorframe of your living room, the second voice leaning against it and pouting. “You were meant to wait for me.”
“Sorry,” she shrugged, giggling as if she didn’t know the meaning of the word, her fingers continuing to toy with your hair.
The brunette pushed herself away from her slouched position, eyeing you from where you were rooted to your spot in fear.
She crossed the room to you, holding her hand out towards you. Something overtook you in that moment and you clasped her hand in yours, allowing the brunette to pull you to your feet, flush against her.
“Sweet girl,” she smiled at you, hand shamelessly drifting to your breast, groping you as the redhead stepped up to your back, trapping you between them
The redheads' hands found your waist, the brunette continuing to grope at your tits, pinching and pulling through your thin t-shirt.
“Hurry up, Wanda,” the redhead whined, impatient and desperate.
“Shhh, Nat,” the brunette, Wanda, soothed her. “We have all the time we could want. Her mind is already ours, eh, detka?”
It took you a minute to realise she was talking to you, her words hardly registering as you nodded in a daze.
They both giggled like school girls, cooing at how out of it you already were. You weren’t sure how you had gotten there already. What, two stunning women trap you between them and suddenly you’re putty in their hands. Well, you didn’t think you could be blamed much for that.
“Let mommy play with you,” Nat begged, wandering hands sneaking their way through the waistband of your jeans, fingers grazing your slit.
You whined as Wanda’s touches became harsher and the girl’s hands began to grope you mercilessly.
“Such a naughty little girl,” Wanda said gleefully, smirking down at you. “All this for us? Your terrifying little voices?”
Your hips involuntarily bucked as Nat pushed a finger inside of you, your answer to Wanda getting cut off by a needy moan.
“She’s so tight,” Nat groaned, her finger working its way inside of you, spreading your folds and coating the digit in your juices.
“Let me have a turn,” Wanda grumbled, attempting to pull Nat’s hand out of you. “Nattyyy.” The oddly childlike bickering passed over your head as you attempted to hump Nat’s hand, soft whines leaving your mouth.
“Let me have a turn with her,” Wanda’s lithe fingers wound around Nat’s wrist, pulling her out of you. You were close to complaining, stomping your feet for her to be back inside you. You had all but offered your soul on a silver platter to the suspected-demons. Your argument died in your throat when you felt Wanda lead Nat’s hand to your back, probing at your back entrance while tugging down your underwear and jeans.
“God, have you ever seen a pussy this pretty?” Wanda groaned, a blush staining your cheeks as she revelled in the way your cunt clenched around nothing, soaked with arousal.
“Does the baby need help?” She mocked you, pouting and using sweet words, so condescending. But it was hard to notice when Nat’s fingers were slowly making their way inside you, your juice still clinging to her fingers as lube.
“What’ll it be, princess? You want daddy to help your pathetic little pussy?”
You considered her for a moment before you nodded yes, officially losing all of your sanity.
Razor sharp fangs pierced your neck and shoulder with a suck the second Wanda’s fingers entered tour drenched pussy, Nat’s fingers still snug in your ass.
“Dumb little human.”
#s: wandanat#briar writes#vampire!wandanat#c: wanda maximoff#c: natasha#briar’s kinktober special 2022#dark fic#kinktober
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@glitchexmachina continued from x.
"But the ferret is so cute," Natasha replied as she looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. "I want him."
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