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munariplans · 10 months

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is there someone else? part 3 | natasha romanoff

synopsis: part 3 to is there someone else?

natasha romanoff x reader | slight wanda maximoff x reader

word count: 9.6k words

read part 1 and part 2 here.

masterlist

natasha woke to the sound of wheels skidding on the road before the cabin, before they ended on the gravel right outside. it took her a few moments to gather her surroundings, she had fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for you after all, before heading outside to check the commotion.

what she did not expect was for you to be sitting by the front porch, the old, beaten-up porsche parked haphazardly by the gravel with the engine running, and a bottle of tequila by your side. she took another look at you, then at the car, and sighed in worry.

rushing forward to switch the engine off, natasha knew being angry with you was not the right approach at that moment. “jesus, were you drunk driving?”

you shrugged. “maybe. still got home, though.”

the woman before you fought the urge to scream. the morning sun was due to rise anytime soon, the golden beginning to bleed into the warm planks of the porch. you were sat by the edge, still shrouded in the remaining comfort of the night. natasha pulled the ends of her robe closer, hand over her bump, and finally sat next to you.

“i can’t believe–”

suddenly the bottle was slammed between the both of you, causing natasha to jump and stop herself mid-sentence. “yes, i drove to the store to get tequila, and yes, i was drinking it on the drive back. and yes, i am probably drunk right now. i know i was wrong, it was dangerous, so you can save the lecture you’re going to spew and head back inside if you’ve only come out to get mad at me again.”

Natasha didn’t need to voice out her worry, or disagreement, for you to know that your words had been mean, and unnecessarily hurtful; because in the next moment, you dropped your head between your knees, and shook it in disappointment.

Instead, Natasha could only think about how badly she had screwed up, to make the monster that you were before her then. How she treated you, transformed you, from a person everyone at SHIELD knew as a steadfast anchor; an agent with skills like no other, and a heart more kind and warm than anyone she knew, to an irresponsible drunk that worried too much in your last missions together, a workaholic with a temper she had grown slightly afraid of recently. Natasha felt like she was to blame for everything.

For a while, the woman sat with you in silence, only the brief gusts of wind howling in the distance and the crickets by the forest accompanying the both of you. She was getting cold, but refused to leave you alone out there for the night.

Finally, she heard a faint I’m sorry from your face hidden between your knees, and dared to reach out to pat your back gently. It prompted you to continue.

“I’m so sorry, Nat,” she could hear the heartbreak in your voice, “I’m so sorry you ended up with me; that you have to deal with someone like me as a partner. I don’t know where we went wrong, I don’t know what’s happened to us, but I…I know we fucked up. I’ve become everything I told myself I would never be when I fell in love with you, and I’ve hurt you so much to the point where you’re crying almost every night because of me, because of my stupid actions and what they’ve caused to you and our little one.”

You looked up at her then, and under the moonlight, your tears looked almost ethereal to Natasha. “I never meant to hurt you, and I hate that it’s come to this now; where we can’t even resolve a disagreement without arguing or resenting one another. We are walking on eggshells around each other, Nat, and this…whatever this is…is tearing us apart.”

When the woman remained quiet, you croaked with, “Tell me what’s wrong with us, Nat.”

She found your gaze, and her eyes were glassy and red too. Natasha shook her head, and withdrew the hand from your back to hold herself. With more despondence in her voice than you had ever heard, she said, “I just…I just feel you don’t love me anymore.”

“That cannot be more untrue,” you interjected. “I know…I know I still love you.”

“Maybe your mind knows, but does your heart say the same?”

“Of course, I…” At the disbelieving look on Natasha’s face, you grew desperate, “...Natasha, of course I love you. I want this marriage to work, I want us to work. I know I’m not the best at showing my love for you but…I whisper I love you, when you’re in another room, when you’re asleep, when you have headphones on, every time you look at me. My heart whispers that it loves you. I’m trying, Natasha, I try and try–”

“–Trying? You have to consciously put in effort into caring about me?”

“Am I wrong for wanting to put effort into us? Wanting to care about you?”

“No, but it should come naturally. It’s like you’re convincing yourself to be in love with me.”

“That’s not what I meant. I know that I love you. I’ve known from the very start, from before Clint pulled that arrow, from when I first saw you, even from when I was first handed your file. I knew you were going to be the one to change my life. I just…” you shut your eyes, bracing yourself, “...You hurt me. You’ve hurt me so much this past year and a half, and I can’t help but push you away when you do.”

“Hurt you…?”

Natasha looked more confused than ever, and you didn’t know whether to sigh or scream. “Natasha, I know, trying for a baby is hard. IVFs are hard, relationships are hard. But when you get upset and pin the blame and anger on me when things don’t work out…it forces me to shoulder all the burden in this relationship. I just feel so helpless all the time, because you keep shutting me out, and you keep letting your own insecurities of Wanda, and everyone else, get the better of us.

All of this is scary for me too. I’m learning to be a better person, and parent, too. But some nights you yell and scream at me and I sit there and take it because I know you are having a hard time, but these things get harder and harder to look through and swallow when you basically deduce that that is all I am worth to you now. I know it’s unfair to ask, but I’m sure you know you haven’t been treating me the same, and I want to at least know why, so we can fix this. I want to fix this.”

Swallowing, you watched the mess of red hair before you blew in the wind, Natasha’s face almost identical in colour with how hard she was crying, too. It took a few minutes for her to gather her thoughts, before she spoke, “I’m just scared that you’ll one day wake up and realise that you deserve better, and when you do, you’ll leave me and I’ll return to the monster I was in the Red Room. I won’t have your patience, your love, to guide me to be a better person, and everything good about it will return to you, where they came from.

I know you, and I know the way you are. We’ve been married for so long, but I know you would still sacrifice your own happiness, your own future, your everything, to make life easier for me, You never put yourself and what you want first; you’re always too kind, too considerate, too stupid to see that you’re not even happy with the situations you land yourself in because of your kindness.

I mean…you married me, when nobody else would even spare me a glance in the compound when I first arrived, because who would want the dirty KGB agent that defaulted and still tried to kill the very own rescuers tasked to kill her? You held back Clint’s arrow from flying towards my head, you spared me because you somehow thought I was worth saving, and you smiled at me, nodding your head and whispering it’s okay while I was trying to squeeze the life out of you with my hands around your neck. Who does that? Who lets their target try to kill them and be so willing to die for someone they thought needed to be saved?

And you married me. So readily, without a second thought or consideration towards what it would mean for your reputation, your future, in SHIELD. You could have refused Fury’s request, let me get sent back to the KGB, let me get executed, and you wouldn’t be affected in any way, shape or form. But you married me, in that stupid courthouse in the stupid part of town with Fury as our witness and the priest who knew you deserved better than some Russian assassin who needed a green card. And you kissed me, and let me strangle you again that night, threatening that I would never, ever fall for someone as dumb, and kind, as you, while you still laid back on the bed, face already purple and prepared to die if I had just held on for a second too long.

And now, I’m just afraid you’re doing it again, staying with me just because I am with child, when you know you could be happier somewhere else, with someone else. You chose to be responsible, and not happy. You want a child, but you don’t want this child. Not with me, you don’t want me. I fooled myself into thinking anyone does. You are not an exception, you are just too nice to do anything otherwise.”

“So what, you’re just going to delude yourself into thinking that you not being around would somehow magically make my life better?” You shot back bitterly, the liquor fuelling the anger simmering at her declaration.

“If it makes you happy!” Natasha replied, “I love you so much, I would rather let you go and be happy with someone else than tying you down here with me. You said it yourself, I hurt you, I’m a horrible partner to be around, and in my pursuit of what I wanted, I never considered that you were there hurting, too. You are the first and only person I have ever loved so deeply, so…so even if it breaks my heart into a million pieces and turns me irrevocably into something I swore I would never go back to…I would let you go if you wanted to leave. I don’t want to see you like this, in pain just for the sake of staying with me.”

Natasha watched you sink deeper into your knees, sobs she so rarely heard coming out raw and guttural from your throat. And then, for the first time in a long, long while, Natasha felt you embrace her first, arms clinging on to her body as if she would dissipate any second, as if you were afraid she was going to be torn from your reach.

“Please don’t make me go,” she heard against your cries, “Please. Please. I love you. And I want this, I want this with you, everything with you. I don’t want to go. Please let me fix this, please don’t push me away, please forgive me.”

To even hear your declaration of love for her, of your want to still be around and to fix whatever that had been tearing the both of you apart, was all that Natasha ever wanted to hear. No matter the circumstances, no matter the hurt and pain, she always found it hard to stay angry at you for long, and the absolute desperation in your voice and your arms around her were already signs she knew you could never disguise to gain sympathy from her. Natasha knew you.

She only wished she had known all of it earlier. “You know I have always just wanted you. I want you around, by me, for the rest of my life.”

“You already have me, all of me. From the very start, Natasha.”

“But I need that you back. I know I have my own flaws, and you have to tell me how I can fix them, but I need the you that I fell in love with. I just need my wife back; you need to prioritise me, this, us, right now, because I can’t do this alone. Me and baby, we need you to be the anchor you have always been for me, darling, because above all, we need to be a team for our little one. They need you more than I need you, so even if you can’t do it for me, please, do it for them.

And I need you to be open with me. No more secrets, no more hiding. I want all of you; your pain, your sorrows, I agreed to them in our vows, remember? You need to talk to me when things get rough, if I get rough. I know you’re one of the Avengers’ and SHIELD’s strongest leaders, nobody doubts that, but even the strongest need someone to fall back on and be vulnerable too. You need to let me be that person, okay?”

Natasha was rubbing your back then, being the one holding you up when the roles were usually reversed. She had hoped she wasn’t asking for too much, that your love for her would allow you to put your pride down and actually agree to her terms, and she was right. In the next moment, she felt you nod against her.

“Okay.”

“You can start by telling me what’s wrong now, and what I need to fix from my end.”

You returned to your seat beside her then, tossing the tequila casually into the trash nearby, and took a moment to consider what you wanted to say. Natasha held your hand in reassurance.

Then, you squeezed her hand back, your touch warm and encouraging. “If you get scared, or worried, or angry, you need to tell me what it is that is bothering you. Don’t bottle it in, Nat. It’ll only grow and manifest until it becomes too big to control and you can only let it out in anger at me. If we want to get through it, you need to tell me, and we’ll work through it together.

I know you’re afraid, when we first started discussing if we wanted kids, you were reluctant that you were going to be a bad mother, but I never doubted you for a second. Everyone gets scared, Nat, but I’m here for you, just as you are for me. Anything, anything at all, you come to me. I will do everything I can in my power to protect you and our child. It’s just you and me, it will always be you and me.”

Your wife let out a small smile, brimming of hope, and love, for your future.

“We’ll both do our best for our little one?”

“Of course. And for us, too.”

“One last thing.”

“Anything.”

“No more drunk driving.”

–

When she finally coaxed the both of you back to the house, Natasha asked if you wanted to see something, and as she led you to the bedroom and told you to stand behind her in the full body mirror, you had an inkling of what she was going to do. However, it could not compare to the warmth that spread through your body, the skipping of your heartbeat, when Natasha put her hands over yours, and led them to the bump you spotted just hours earlier.

She giggled as you dropped to your knees in front of her, and pressed kisses all over the bump, before capturing her own lips with yours and whispering I love yous through the night.

–

Natasha only realised that you had driven the both of you to the site of your very first date when you pulled into the parking lot of the Met, exactly five years after the date itself. You smiled when she let out a small gasp at the realisation, when she held your hand excitedly as you paid for the tickets, even more so when she began leading you down the exact route the both of you had taken for your first official date then.

It was after a mission where Natasha finally realised that she had caught feelings for you, where you guessed she had only done so after the countless times you had pulled her back from reckless moves that would have killed her in her rookie missions, or where you willingly jumped in front of enemy fire when she so clearly had not trained her senses to missions yet.

Natasha remembered it quite differently. It was the mission where the both of you were alone, and she had seen you smile and laugh at something she said so happily, so free, as if you saw her as something other than the defaulted ex-KGB she knew everyone still regarded as. You had always reserved a special smile for her, she knew this, and everyone had told her that even though she would never return your feelings, you had undeniably been in love with her ever since you saw her, but this time, it was different. For some reason, this time, everything seemed to fall into place. You, whizzing past the New York skyline and swinging the both of you home as Natasha latched on, laughing at her still getting used to the speed and height of how fast you were flying, her body pressed on yours and hearing your heartbeat beating steadily to match hers, Natasha knew something was amiss when her own heartbeat began to quicken.

That very same night, after you had patched up her wounds and began to pack to retreat and sleep in your own bedroom, Natasha knew she had to do something before her heart felt like it was going to burst.

“Wait,” she held your wrist, and against your confused look to see if you had missed an injury, she continued with, “I want to try something.”

Before you could ask what, her lips were on yours, for the very first time since your wedding day, the taste of cherry and blood infiltrating your senses. Natasha’s eyes were shut, her lips unsure, but when you reciprocated and deepened the kiss, her hands abruptly pushed you back, disconnecting the both of you.

“Thanks, you can go back now.”

Natasha didn’t leave you to worry, and wonder very long of course. Because while you lay awake in bed that night more confused than ever, she barged into your bedroom, and declared, “I have two tickets to the Met tomorrow. I’ve never gone before, and I would really like to go. Do you want the other ticket?”

The nonchalance, yet shakiness in her voice that you could tell after spending so much time together, almost made you want to laugh, if it had not puzzled you even further. “I…”

She took your momentary confusion as rejection, however, as a flash of hurt appeared on her face, before she turned and said, “Never mind, forget it. I’ll go by myself tomorrow.”

That had you jumping out of bed quicker than you had ever done before, as you prevented the door from slamming, and held her hand back. “Wait, Nat, you didn’t really give me a chance to answer!”

At her eyebrow quirk and invitation for you to continue, you chuckled, and showcased your smile, the special smile Natasha knew was reserved just for her, and said, “Of course I want the other ticket. We’ll go together.”

There it was. The feeling of her heart going to burst again. It had happened on the way home, had multiplied during the kiss, felt like it was legitimately going to burst right then.

Natasha fought the smile creeping onto her face, as she coolly replied, “Great. It’s a date. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Great,” you breathed, feeling like you were dreaming, “I’ll see you…tomorrow.”

Natasha shut the door to your bedroom, retreated to hers, and the squeal that left her then felt almost inhuman.

Though, at the date itself, Natasha wondered if you had even enjoyed yourself, or learnt anything from the artwork, when she caught you looking and smiling at her more times than you were even looking at the art.

Fast forward five years later, you hadn’t changed; as Natasha gawked and tried discussing with you on symbolism and technique, only to fail and sigh in faux irritation as you were too preoccupied admiring her instead.

–

And in the less happy moments, you were there to quell the fear that had replaced Natasha’s anger. After the museum date, and a very heavy lunch where you had ordered half the menu to satisfy Natasha’s cravings, she had taken to the bathroom to freshen up first.

But when nearly ten minutes passed with no indication of her presence in the bathroom, you thought it was reasonable to get worried, given her current state. So giving the door a few soft knocks, you were surprised that it creaked open, not even closed or locked.

And you were even more surprised, perhaps a little disappointed, to see Natasha still standing over the bathroom scale, frowning as she tried to look over her bump at the numbers below.

She noticed your presence, noticed you leaning against the sink as you entered, unsure of what to say to her, but all Natasha could zero in on was the additional two kilograms that she had put on, another spike from the previous week.

“Why’d you order so much earlier?” She whispered, half angry at herself, half afraid that you had noticed the weight gain far earlier than she had.

But Natasha knew the answer was not in blaming you, not anymore, she had sworn, as immediately after, an apologetic look appeared on her face and you moved forward with bringing her off the scale. Shoving it right under the bathtub again, you brought her to face the mirror, and smiled convincingly.

“It’s completely normal,” your lips moved to the space between her neck and shoulder, pressing feather-light kisses, “To grow for our baby.”

“Not this fast, not this much,” Natasha rebutted. “Two kilograms since last week is too much.”

You allowed yourself to chuckle against her skin. “Maybe our little one is a big eater.”

“Or their mother is a fat cow who can’t even control her urges–”

“–Natasha.” Your voice had suddenly dropped, eyes meeting hers in the mirror. The smile on your face was gone, replaced with a dangerous glare she had often seen before you took down million dollar organised crime institutions. She groaned, feeling your grip around her tighten. “Don’t ever say that about yourself ever again.”

There were tears hot behind her eyes, but Natasha choked down her sob with, “I’m just afraid you won’t find me attractive anymore…at the end of all of this…when I’ve become so…different…from what I used to be, from what my body used to be. I mean, I know what I was, I know I have always used my body to get what I needed in the past, and even since the Avengers and SHIELD, it has never changed. Until now. Even Ward said it, you know? When he told you you struck gold—”

Fuck. You knew that was going to come back to bite you, and it did, astronomically. You shut your eyes then, shaking your head and trying to stop the river of regret of not punching his face right then and there overwhelm your senses. He was your friend, one of your oldest at it, but Natasha was your wife, and you should have done better for your wife.

“–Fuck Ward. He was drunk, and I should have beat the shit out of him when he said all those things about you.” You knew it was completely your fault that Natasha was even feeling like this, that the tears streaming down her face then was because of the insecurities you instilled in her.

“He’s somewhat right, but–”

“–No, he’s not,” you interjected, “He’s a piece of shit, that’s what he is. I was too tipsy to really take in his words then, and he had me cornered in front of everyone. I was a coward, and didn’t say anything when he was insulting your name in front of me. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Nat.”

Natasha’s lips trembled as her hands laid over yours, and you sighed in frustration. “You know that what he says is not reflective of what I think of you, right? That I never, and I would never, think of you in that way. Your body growing, changing, will never deter what I feel for you. You are beautiful, Nat, a little extra weight is not going to undo five years of my love just like that.”

She sighed, still in worry, when you slowly reached further up her shirt, slipping your hands underneath and holding the breasts she had been complaining had hurt for the past few weeks. “And you know these are growing too, which is a major plus for me.”

“Ugh,” Natasha gave an annoyed look, hiding the hint of a smile, “Do you always have to ruin the moment?”

But the woman certainly did not complain when you turned her right around, and began worshipping her body the way she deserved to be worshipped.

–

Of course, not every part of Natasha’s change with her body was as harmless as a little weight gain. Her back hurt, she was having trouble going to the toilet most days, and most of all, the breasts that you admired growing so much, were giving her the hardest time of her days thus far.

Inevitably, she was cranky. Twice she had caught herself from snapping at you for trying to initiate intimacy in the mornings, and when she painfully rolled over to alleviate the tension in her back, she had left you a little hurt and concerned. But you were merely brushed off with a I’m still sleepy, or not now, and you had no choice but to leave her be.

By the time she had showered in the morning and headed to the bedroom to change, you watched as she slipped off her robe and grabbed the hoodie you put on her the very day you and Clint rescued her (which never returned to your own closet ever since), but when the thick fabric touched her skin and weighed her down, she flinched and sighed in discomfort. This time, you got up from the bed to hold her hands, massaging them too.

“What’s hurting you?” You asked, assessing her body to see if there were visible signs of injury, to which there were none.

She shrugged, looking away. It was so stupid to feel burdened by this, Natasha thought. She was an assassin, and an Avenger, for Christ’s sake. God forbid she was losing a battle with her own body in pregnancy. You would think of her as weak, and incapable of raising a child without shouldering so much hardship, she considered, and a new fear crept within. “I’m fine.”

“Do you really want to play this game with me, Nat?” You prompted again, an eyebrow raised this time. “You know you can’t hide these things from me.”

“I can try,” she let out a smirk, to which you pressed down a little harder on her knuckle and she cursed, before lowering her head in shame, reaching out to pull you in for an embrace. You obliged, and with her face smushed into your shirt, she mumbled, “They hurt. My breasts hurt.”

“Oh.” You looked down to her eyes searching yours for signs of rejection, or amusement, that she was unable to hide pain as trivial as this, but you were serious. And then, you brought her in closer, and she sighed in happiness at the feeling of being held.

“My bras are all a little too tight now. Even the loosest hooks press against them too hard,” Natasha indulged, relieved that you were nodding in understanding.

Finally, you asked, “You still up for your ice cream cravings from last night?”

“Mm,” she replied, “I dreamt of butterscotch last night, of course.”

At your chuckle, Natasha smiled, the sound of your laughter music to her ears as you began leading her down to the car to head out.

But what Natasha didn’t expect, as she held onto her butterscotch cone while you helped hold her other flavour in your hand, was for you to bring her to a maternity shop by the mall, a personal assistant already greeting the both of you as she entered.

She looked at you in surprise when the assistant led her to a section further down the shop, and you shrugged and said, “Figured you needed some new bras, my hands aren’t enough support.”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha quickly let go of your arm as the assistant began pushing forth recommendations for softer, more comfortable bras for the rest of her pregnancy. She was grateful to you, as she sighed in relief at the instant comfort and support the new ones provided, while you sighed in contentment watching her try them on in the fitting room.

“I’ll make you even happier than you were in that fitting room, tonight,” she whispered as you paid, a smirk growing on your lips right after.

–

Though, as the shop assistant busied you with offering promotions and memberships while you paid, Natasha roamed around, and spotted a small rack of magazines right by the counter. Clearly a tabloid highlight, she skimmed the magazines for any good ones to bring home, when her eyes were caught in a particular tabloid; one with yours and Wanda’s faces splashed right at the cover.

Her heart sinking, she picked it up immediately, and the headlines were not much more forgiving. Exclusive scoop: Illicit affairs even in superhero assemblies; will the Scarlet Witch tear down every family she is accepted to?

Quickly flipping through the pages, Natasha scanned a quick analysis of yours and Natasha’s relationship, and eventually, reached the looming question of your marriage, and its legitimacy. They then showed the progression of yours and Wanda’s closeness that was not invisible even to the public, and the chemistry the both of you radiated onto each other. The next few pages held her compared side by side with Wanda, including her looks and abilities compared to the Scarlet Witch’s, and even a trivia to which one of them the reader would choose if they were you.

It made Natasha sick to the core. It seemed as if everyone could see it, everyone but her, that Wanda was the better option. Not her, never her. Anybody but her. Obviously, she was so much younger, much more worthy of your companionship, much more deserving of your love. Whatever good had come from the day had vacated, as a permanent frown began to creep its way onto Natasha’s face, and an icy cold feeling crept onto her hands.

Her ears were ringing, and when you called out to her, she had frozen in place with the inability to hear anything but her own deprecating thoughts. You got worried then, and quietly excused yourself from the assistants to walk up to her.

When your arms wrapped around her waist a few moments later, and the magazine was taken from her hands to be brought back to the shelf, Natasha felt herself physically trembling.

“Let’s go home,” was all you said, as you led her out of the shop, arm still around her waist as Natasha felt the world disappear from her own reality.

–

In the car, however, you made sure she was comfortable, before holding her hand reassuringly, and convinced her to look at you.

“Natasha.”

“Mm,” she tried to avert her gaze to the window behind you, but you were firm. Even though there were tears in her eyes then, you remained strong and continued.

“I need to tell you something, and I know you will get angry, and very upset with me, but I hope…I hope you will understand, and you will forgive me. So we can move past this, together.”

At her nod, you declared, “I had feelings for Wanda, for a while in our relationship. It was when things were at the lowest between us, and I felt all hope was lost, when…when it was just a while before and during your announcement of the pregnancy.”

Natasha bit her lip, trying to withdraw her hand from yours, but you held on. “But those feelings have long dissipated, Natasha. Trust me, you are all I want, all I love now.

I admit, the night we had that talk, with my drunk driving and stupid decisions, I…I thought of calling her. It felt like you had given up on me, I thought I should give up on our relationship, and…and I was exhausted and stressed. But the phone rang, and I saw you there, you and our baby asleep on the sofa, and…my whole future was there. I saw only you and our child, Natasha, nobody else. I couldn’t do it, I hung up the phone right when she picked up, and my feelings for her died with the urge to start something I knew I would regret.

I recognise my mistakes, I know, I was a shitty wife and an even more horrible person, for even thinking of doing that to you, and I understand if you need space after this. But I just want you to know, Natasha, that you are the one I love, you are the one I would choose everyday, and nobody compares to you. I was stupid for even thinking there could be a possibility otherwise, I know it now. No one else makes my heart beat as fast as you do, no one else I would love the way I love you.”

The paper bag in Natasha’s lap crinkled as she adjusted her thighs, the swipe of her hands against her tear-stained cheeks sounding like a harsh slap as she let go of yours. You watched as she faced the door of the car then, refusing to make eye contact.

“Natasha–”

“–Just…drive home. I need time, and space.”

Watching her retreat straight into the bathroom and hearing her retching right as you reached home, you knew that telling Natasha had been the right thing; you just wished the right thing did not have to be so difficult then.

—

For the better part of the rest of the day, Natasha avoided you as much as she could, staying in the bedroom while you spent time simmering in your guilt. Look at the consequences of your actions. Made your wife cry, yet again. Made her feel less of herself, yet again. Natasha was too good to you, and you knew it.

You brought her dinner as a peace offering. Knocking softly on the door of the bedroom, you could hear the sheets rustling as you said, “I’ve made dinner. Do you want to eat it inside?”

A yes was heard, and you tentatively opened the door to find Natasha still under the sheets, face not visible. She pulled them up even higher as you set down the plate by her vanity table, and even though you wanted to say something, anything, to get her to even look at you, you knew better.

Another soft click was heard as the door shut behind you, and Natasha continued to let the waterworks run.

–

At night, you asked if you could enter the bedroom again, to which Natasha said yes. She was sitting on the bed this time, eyes still red, but at the very least not crying anymore. It was nearly time for bed, and in her nightgown, she watched as you went to your side of the bed, and picked up your pillows and a spare blanket.

“Where are you going?” She asked, putting down her book. Her voice was still throaty.

“The couch?” You answered, a little confused that she thought you would be anywhere else. “Do you…want anything? Before bed?”

Usually you fixed her a hot glass of milk before bed, or the occasional decaffeinated tea to help her sleep better. But tonight you were unsure of any move you should make in order not to upset her even further, and skipped out on the ritual.

Natasha took a while to consider her next words, and you were prepared to head to the kitchen to steam the milk for her, when she patted the space beside her, and said, “Stay. Sleep here tonight.”

“Nat, I really don’t mind sleeping on the couch if you’re not comfortable–”

“–Stay. I want to sleep next to you tonight.”

You nodded, fighting off the grateful smile on your face, and ensured there was as much space as possible between the two of you as you laid down on the bed, just in case.

A few minutes passed, you wide awake and listening to Natasha’s breathing. Recently, it was a habit that you had begun doing; Natasha was afraid of falling asleep alone, and her nightmares did not help with her insomnia either. You always waited for her to fall asleep first, no matter the circumstances, no matter how tired you were.

Her breathing slowed to even intervals, but never slow enough to indicate she was asleep. And then, she whispered in the dark, “Can you look at me, darling?”

You rolled over to face her, and your heart squeezed at the sight of her crying again. She reached out for your hand, you gave it to her willingly, and she brought it to her bump, squeezing it in fear that you might let go of her.

“I know, there are better women out there for you. I know, that I am not the most attractive, or the easiest to be with. I know I get mad at you when I so often encounter problems that I should be more mad at myself with, I know you know yourself that you could have done so much better than just…me. I practically stole the rest of your future away, with my problems and my need to escape the KGB. You could have settled down with someone better, someone like Wanda, maybe, started a family with them earlier, had a much easier time being with them.

Or you could have moved to Switzerland and become head of the new STRIKE team, like Fury and everyone else expected you to, without being bound to stay because of me. Anything, I know, is better than me.”

You were about to protest, to hold Natasha’s face and say that everything that just came out of her mouth was not the least bit true, but she shook her head, and you allowed her to continue.

“But I need you, and I love you. I needed you then, when the whole world was against me and you were the only one to show me kindness by sticking with me, I will need you in the future, when the baby is here and needs their two parents, but most importantly, I need you now, when I have no one else with me to go through this scary, scary nine months with.

I’m sorry I’m not Wanda, I’m sorry I can never be her, but please…I need you to choose me, to choose us. More than anything, more than the baby in my womb right now, I need, and want you around with me, for the rest of my life. I don’t know how to get through all this alone without you, I don’t know how my heart can accept and love anyone else but you. You are my everything, you know this, and this is me begging you, to please, please, choose me.

Our little one is half of you, as is my heart shaped by yours. Despite everything, you are all I love, you are all that makes sense to me, and I would do anything, just for you to be by my side, please. I need you, we need you.”

Your lips began to bleed with how hard you were biting them, as fresh, salty tears began to roll down your own face, the remorse and longing wrapping around your heart like a snake, squeezing so tight you felt like you were drowning.

A choked sob left your throat as you then pulled Natasha to your arms, peppering her face with wet kisses and murmurs of you, always you, as she held onto you for dear life as well.

“Nobody else,” you reaffirmed, the tightness of your arms around Natasha a welcomed feeling as she cried into your chest, “Nobody else but you, till the end of time.”

She tangled her body with yours, always pressing herself closer if possible, as if afraid that you would slip away from her just as quickly as she had gotten the old you back, and only when you began carding your hands through her hair and reassured her that you were not going anywhere, did her breathing finally even out.

It was the first night in two weeks where her nightmares never came.

–

The time with Natasha alone ran out on a balmy Friday afternoon, as Fury had called you back for an emergency mission the minute her first trimester had ended and the two of you had patched up your relationship. However, she was reluctant to move back to the compound so soon, and with an agreement for your mother to come visit her on days that you were not around during missions, she was happier to stay in the cabin nesting.

Still, it did not quell your worries, as you watched your elderly mother fuss over Natasha as if she was her own daughter. Teaching the woman her signature crochet patterns, she noticed as you stood by the door, fidgeting with your fingers at the sight of Natasha near the knitting needles. “You worry too much, dear.”

“Right, I told her so too,” Natasha chimed in, to which you scoffed and rolled your eyes at their ganging up on you.

Your bags were packed and in the car, everything Natasha could need for the next week was packed in the shelves and fridges, and you had reminded your mother to be careful when accompanying her for her doctor’s appointment in two days. “Just…the prenatals, every morning, okay Mom? And if you’re cooking her eggs, remember to get them a little more well done.No runny yolks. She needs at least eight hours of sleep–”

“–Yes, dear, I know. You’re treating your wife like a baby, I don’t think your father was even as concerned when I was pregnant with you,” she said, following you out on the porch after you had kissed Natasha goodbye for her midday nap, “Which is a good thing, don’t get me wrong. I know you love your wife so much, but remember that I’m here, and she’s safe, too.”

You nodded, gulping. “I know, I know. I just haven’t been treating her so well these past few months, I want to…I want to make sure..”

“I know,” your mother pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead, hugging you goodbye, “Now go. Focus on the mission. And come home safe, for her, and the child, okay?”

–

“Well you look healthier, and happier,” Tony chimed in as he watched you fly the Quinjet for the first time in three months, your hands slightly shaking.

You steered left, before replying, “Thanks.”

“Why isn’t Natasha on this mission? I thought Fury said he needed someone who could work with the security system?” Steve pointed out right after, and all eyes travelled to you.

You knew they had their suspicions, but they were just waiting for you to say it. It could only go on for so long, after all.

Stabilising the jet in the air, you then moved out of your seat to finally face the team. “Natasha’s pregnant. Three and a half months, today.”

Knowing looks were exchanged, and the smiles began to grow on your teammates’ faces, as one by one they started clapping for you, with Steve coming forward to hug you tightly then. “Congratulations.”

Then, he leaned in, whispering, “You guys are okay, now?”

“Yup,” you replied, “We’re better.”

You thanked the team quickly after, promising to let them visit Natasha soon, before refocusing on your targeted location for the mission.

–

You should have guessed that when Fury said they needed you for an emergency mission, they needed you for a truly emergency mission.

Bullets raining down on your heads and armed weaponry that did not seem like they were made from any material on this earth, you found yourself trapped with Clint in the vents of the abandoned government building with barely any room to breathe without risking a bullet in your head.

“Just like old times, huh?” He tried to lighten the mood, “The archer and the spider.”

“I’m not like the kid,” you retorted, “They actually inserted the serum of that spider safely in me. No freakish hanging-on-walls nonsense.”

He rolled his eyes, letting you web up an enemy from a distance, before finally ambushing the soldiers from the vent and preparing yourself for a long, drawn out battle with them.

–

But no matter how hard you fought, or how many of Clint’s arrows helped to take enemies off your back, you were clearly outnumbered when the enemy had cut off all of your comms early on, Tony unable to come in for backup while you and Clint were probably in the most densely-populated part of the building.

The moment the archer got caught in one of the negative-energy weapons the enemies had struck at him, was the moment you knew you had to escape. There was no point in trying to take them down and risking Clint.

You shot the last web to blind Clint’s attacker, before releasing him and swinging straight out of the window to the lower floors. He was groaning in your hold, as you examined the remnants of the energy searing a deep burn onto his skin.

“Fuck,” you cursed, worried that something would spread underneath and render his arms useless, “I’m taking you back to the jet.”

The first ones back on the jet were Tony and Steve, the energy on the verge of melting the Wakandan metal on the Captain’s shield and Tony’s weapons. You turned back to Clint worriedly, but before you could say anything more, the comms crackled and a groan was heard from the other side.

“C-Can anyone help? We’re kind of…” The comms crackled again, but it was clear whose voice was on the other end.

“Peter, where are you?” You were the only one uninjured, and fit enough to go back in, as the doctors had already begun escorting Clint away, and the Captain and Tony were still trying to get their weapons and shield back working.

“South Building, second floor,” his voice was getting fainter and fainter, before, “Can you hurry, please? I’m with Ms Maximoff, and it’s not g–”

“–I’ll be right there, Peter.”

–

The area was fairly unguarded as you tore through more enemies towards the South Building, and you soon found out why when more than half of them were tied up in Wanda’s magic, hanging from the ceiling in every room you burst through.

“Peter! Wanda!” Upon your arrival, you heard Peter’s web shooters fly and immediately rushed to his aid just a few rooms down from where you were.

The boy was on the ground, shrouding a heavily injured Wanda with negative-energy enveloping all around her, while the last of the attackers tried desperately to capture the both of them. You overpowered them easily with more strength and experience, but as you returned to the duo you knew that the mission had been compromised, and had to be abandoned.

Inspecting Spider-Man for injuries, you were glad that he was still able to walk, and more importantly, swing, as you then carried an unconscious Wanda into your arms and led him swinging behind you to safety.

“Do me a favour,” you said as he found difficulty keeping up, “Don’t ever do that again. Risking your life like that.”

“Ms Maximoff was–”

“–I know she was injured, but if it came down to it, Peter, I wouldn’t have wanted you both dead. You tell me when you know you’re not able to handle these things next time, and I’ll be there instantly, you know I will. Better me than you, okay?”

The young hero could only nod slowly behind.

–

Back at the Quinjet, while everyone was scrambling to grab medical supplies for Wanda and the energy quickly burning through her skin, Steve pulled you aside to put you on the line with Fury.

“I know you’re worried about her Agent,” his voice cut through the noise in your head as you stared at Wanda being wrapped in all sorts of healing blankets and devices, “But I wish to request something.”

“Yes, Fury,” you replied, heart still in your throat as you watched the woman fail to open her eyes through her second resuscitation. You couldn’t help feeling like it was all your fault, that you hadn't gotten to her in time, and fear was steadily rising through your body.

If Fury noticed the lack of focus in your voice, he didn’t mention it. “The nearest safehouse and medical facility for you guys is too far. Doctor Cho fears it might be too late for Wanda. The only other option is the woods where yours and Natasha’s cabin is.”

Even in your worry, you couldn’t help but prioritise your wife, though. “I don’t want Natasha involved–”

“–She won’t. As far as she knows, she’s just lending your house for the doctors in the jet to treat the team. That’s all. I’ve already gotten her approval, Agent.”

You sighed through the phone, heavy and worried. But one more look at Clint, and then Wanda, had confirmed any doubts you had. “I’ll get us there, then.”

–

Natasha was already waiting by the fields by the time you landed the jet, rushing forward to engulf you in her arms as she consciously felt around your suit for any injuries as well. When she didn’t find anything but a slash through your right shoulder, she sighed in relief and could only turn her focus to the team then.

“I’m fine,” you breathed, thankful for the fact that she was there, “Can’t say the same for everyone here, though.” The both of you watched as Clint was carried by Steve into the cabin, followed by Wanda by Tony, and Natasha felt your fist tighten at the sight of her skin seared and lips pale.

“Can’t help but feel like it’s all my fault. First mission back and I’m already getting so many of them injured.” You muttered.

Natasha cupped your face then, shaking her head. “Don’t say that. You didn’t know better, Steve was the leader of this mission, and none of you could have anticipated that there would be so many of them. And you are home now, you are safe, which is all that matters to me.”

You leaned into her touch, nodding your head.

–

the medical team left by midnight once they had stabilised wanda’s injuries, but being the only one certified as a medical professional aside from doctor strange, you chose to stay by her side the entire night, as she took up the spare bedroom in the cabin while the rest of the team slept in the living room.

you changed her dressings after a few hours, and when you came out of her room, natasha was sitting by the kitchen counter. she was awake, and a steaming mug of milk was right beside her. soft snores from the living room had filled up the atmosphere, but the low lighting she had switched on made her look more ethereal than ever. her face shrouded in the warm glow, you approached her carefully and smiled when she gazed up at you.

disposing of the bloody bandages, you sat across from her and saw that she had been filling up the crossword in the newspaper.

“couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged. you pointed out a word to her and she thanked you.

“without me?” you joked, but she nodded, and you smiled sadly. “i’m sorry. i…”

you gestured towards the room, but natasha put her hand up. “i understand. i know you’re worried. i am too.”

you bit your lip, half in shame, half in guilt that your worry for wanda was affecting your wife too. but natasha put on a brave smile then, looking at the bloody dressings, and said, “i’ll help you get the new bandages from our storage. go.”

you dutifully returned to the room, watching her silhouette disappear for a moment before the door shut and your heart dipped deeper into your stomach.

–

you were administering a new bag into wanda’s IV drip when her fingers twitched, proceeding to ghost along the skin of your left arm as her eyes opened blearily.

“hello sunshine,” you smiled at her, apologising as you reinserted the needle.

wanda tried to smile back. “waking up to your face? i thought i must have died and went to heaven.”

you chuckled, but slowly removed the hand that had encircled around your wrist. “not heaven. you’re still stuck in this shitty cabin with me and the rest of the avengers. and if the painkillers tell you otherwise, just remember that your skin is redder and rawer than a tomato now.”

the spare room was in fact your study, with the makeshift hospital bed in the middle and your desk pushed to the far corner of the room. as wanda’s eyes travelled and took in her surroundings then, you noticed her gazing across the photos of you and natasha on the desk replacing the ones with the team (and her), natasha’s little trinkets that you had now adopted, and the multiple scans of the baby right alongside.

she looked at you sadly, and asked, “three and a half months?”

“yeah,” you grabbed the most recent scan, showing her, “natasha wants to wait a little while before knowing the gender. i'm a little afraid, to be honest, but we’re excited nonetheless.”

“right.” wanda looked at the scan, where the faint shape of the foetus was forming. she knew she had lost the moment she saw the softness in your eyes as you gazed back at the scan.

she swallowed her fears, and asked, “so it’s her then? between me and her?”

you looked up, staring at her face and remembering the phone call, the late nights, the companionship of being around the scarlet witch. fighting by her side in missions, coming home to her laughs and comfort after, you remembered her encouraging you after every fight with Natasha, the smiles exchanged as she brought you in for hugs and your laughter as she tried making jokes to cheer you up.

wanda’s eyes were blue, natasha’s green. but there was only one pair you knew you would stare lovingly into for the rest of your life.

natasha’s first night with you after your first date, sharing ice cream and exchanging quiet smiles. her wearing the sweater you had put on her after her rescue. it was her safety sweater, the safest space in her world. the tightness of her hugs, the softness of her kisses. the love in her eyes when you discussed parenthood with her, the excitement of you promising to be by her side until the end of time.

“it’s her. in every life, i would choose her.”

natasha, who had been listening behind the door, held the bandages closer to her chest, the warmth spreading through her had her smiling until her cheeks hurt.

#natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #black widow x reader #scarlet witch x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #black widow #scarlet witch #marvel cinematic universe #is there someone else

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scholastic-dragon · 8 months

Text

I think this is the third post I promised in the poll lmao, I've been all over the place recently. Yall better get ready though cause I'm planning something big for my birthday in two weeks. 🫢

Also my dumbass did not proofread so if anything is off I am sorry

Wanna Ride?

Mirage x Fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, no protection cause he's a car, using a vibrator, mirage is babygirl and I love him, PRAISE, spelling mistakes,

Slipping on your thin sweatshirt, you giggle to yourself as you grab your keys and head out of your apartment.

Rushing down the stairs, not even bothering with the elevator, you jog out to the back parking lot where you see a gray and blue striped Porsche waiting in your spot.

Hearing the big metal door close behind you, Mirage honks at you, revving his engine and opening the passenger side door for you. You skip happily and slide into the car, the seat warm against your practically bare thighs.

"Hi, baby, I missed you," You laugh, tossing your purse into the backseat. Mirage revs the engine again, his voice coming out of the radio.

"Not as much as I missed you," He pulled your seat belt on and pulled out of the parking lot, taking you deep into the quiet dark that was New York.

"So, what're we doing tonight? Your message was quite vague," You tease, watching the lights flash by, you loved late night drives.

"Well, Prime said I had patrol tonight so obviously I invited you along,"

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, leaning back in the chair and crossing your legs. "Of course, you'd do that, even though last time-"

"What was that?" He interrupts, his driving not slowing down or faltering.

You squint your eyes, looking out the windows, hoping something wasn't about to fall out of the sky towards you. "What was what?"

"Your dress," He states, you bite your lip, hands gripping the edges of your sundress, trying to hide your blush.

"It's...just an outfit," You smooth out the fabric against your thighs, folding your hands in your lap, looking out the window, hoping he wouldn't mention how red your face was.

"hmm," He hums, then cranks up the AC blowing cold air on you, making your skirt flip up, exposing your lower half.

"Mirage!"

He gasped, making your blush crawl down your neck. "You're not wearing underwear!" He laughed, the sound reverberating through the leather seats. "You dirty girl, you wanna get laid,"

"I didn't think you'd be on a mission from Optimus! I thought it was just gonna be a fun drive," You try to fight the blush and heat racing through your body but you can't.

"We can still have a fun ride," He speaks quietly, still driving down the dark streets. "Show me,"

You gawk, stuttering, feeling your hands start to shake. Biting your lip, your hands travel down your thighs, taking the edge of your dress and pulling it up to your waist. You roll your hips forward, readjusting to present yourself to him.

It felt so daring to do this, but with the rising threat to the Autobots, Mirage had his windows tinted. Thankfully, even though you were still on a main road with other cars, no one could see how far down you were slouched in your seat.

"Shit, baby, you shaved for me?" You loved how he always made you laugh, it helped lighten the mood and ease any tension you had, in all situations with him, not just sexual.

"We haven't seen each other in a few weeks, I wanted to surprise you," You mumble.

"Oh, I'm surprised alright," the glove box pops open, showing a small cardboard box and a few loose papers. "Open the box, baby,"

Leaning forward, you pull out the little box, flicking open the lid and feeling yourself get even redder.

Your vibrator sat wrapped in tissues. Taking it out, you slam the glove box shut, making him groan then laugh.

"I was looking everywhere for this!"

"Well, now you have it...why don't you show me how much you missed me?" He revs the engine, making your seat vibrate against your legs.

You smile, spreading your legs and setting the toy against your slit. Rubbing it up and down to coat the silicone tip before pressing it to your clit and turning it on.

You gasped, biting your lip to keep your noises down, gripping the seats with your other hand. Your nails digging into the leather and making Mirage groan softly.

"That's it, baby, just like that," He praised, taking a left down a side road that didn't have nearly as much traffic.

His praise and compliments always made you feel so incredibly sexy. You knew even though you couldn't see his eyes that he was watching you. It was such a strange and surreal feeling: one that was truly addicting.

Feeling yourself grow wetter and more turned on, you slipped the toy down your folds and to your entrance, feeling it pulse beneath the toy.

"Shit, baby," He swore, sounding winded.

"You like the view?" You tease, gaining a bit of confidence.

"I can feel you leaking against the seats," peering down, you see a small puddle forming between your thighs. Fuck that's hot.

"I feel like I should apologize,"

"Don't you dare," He speeds up, turning down another few winding roads, you had no idea where he was going.

You pushed the toy in about an inch inside you, mewling softly, rotating your hips on the seat. "I wish you were touching me," You sigh.

"As you wish," the glove box whirs softly, then from under the door, you see Mirage's arm emerge, his cools finger stracing your knee.

You gasp, laughing softly. "I didn't know you could do that,"

"It's a bit of a twist, but damn is it worth it," He says breathlessly. His fingers are cold and soft, the metal tickling your skin as he drags them up the inside of your legs.

Putting his hand over yours, his palm engulfing your hand and toy easily, he shuts it off and places it in the cup holder.

With his knuckle, he rubs it up and down your folds, making you moan softly, both hands gripping his seats.

"Fuck, you're soaked," He moans, his thumb pressing and rubbing small quick circles on your clit.

Taking his middle finger, he runs in down your folds before pressing it at your weeping entrance. Pushing in at a slow pace to not overwhelm you.

One of his fingers was as thick as two of yours. You moaned loudly, feeling sweat form at your temple and shoulders.

You lean forward, taking off your sweatshirt and pulling the top of your dress down, pulling your sleeves to the side to expose your blue bra.

"You like the color?" You run a hand over the lace, teasing your nipple through the fabric.

"That's my blue," He whispers in a daze.

To get back at you, he starts moving his finger, a strong even pace that has you clawing at the seat and door, trying to not scream out in the open road.

"Fuck, Mirage," You can hear the wet squelch as his finger moves in and out of your core, it's turning you on even more.

"You like this, baby?" You nod, moaning and panting. "You're doing so well, you want another one?"

"Yes,"

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'd like another finger in me," You're too close to cumming to care how desperate you sound.

Pulling his finger out almost all the way, he lines up his ring finger, pushing against your slit and letting your wetness drip down onto his fingers. Then he pushed forward, being slow and careful, but still making sure it felt good.

When you hissed in pain at the second knuckle, his thumb pressed and rubbed your clit. You threw your head back, feeling your stomach tighten, a band pulling in your core.

"Please, Mirage," You moan.

"Please what, baby?" He pulls out onto a dirt road, going along a quiet neighborhood.

"Please let me come," You beg.

"Oh. You're gonna cum?" He teases, moving his fingers and clit in a maddening rhythm. "You gonna cum all over my seats? Squirt and stain the leather?"

Fuck, you loved it when he talked like this. You moaned loudly, feeling the band grow taught, his fingers squelched as he finger-fucked you hard.

He curled his fingers, pressing them against your g-spot and pressing his thumb against your clit, rubbing harshly.

"Mirage!" You scream, feeling the band snap and your vision go black. Sound faded out, nothing mattered except the amazing feeling of cumming around his fingers.

Your back arches before setting against the leather, panting heavily. Opening your eyes, you see that he's stopped.

You're in a garage, you're not where but it looks abandoned, it was dim and dusty.

"You alright, baby?" He removed his fingers, rubbing the back of his hand against the expanse of your thighs.

"Yeah, that was just a big one," You laugh, unbuckling and opening the door. On shaking legs, you roll your shoulders hearing the classic mechanical whirring of Mirage transforming.

As you turn around, he's already coming at you. One hand cups the side of your face, and the other wraps around your waist, pulling you up and pushing you against his chest.

He kisses you hungrily, moaning and groaning into your mouth. Even with metallic lips, they were smooth and warm, not in a way you understood, but appreciated nonetheless.

He lifts your feet off the ground, swallows your gasp, and pushes you against a wide support pillar.

"Do you know who's garage this is?" You pant in between kisses.

"Nope," He smiles against your lips, moving down and nipping at your neck.

He doesn't have normal saliva, but his mouth does produce some spit like substance. It doesn't have a taste but leaves little tingles on your lips and skin.

"Mirage, I need you," You pant, your arms clawing down the smooth metal.

"Shit, hold on," He moans, his arms dropping your your waist, then suddenly he's on his knees and lifting your body up the pillar.

"Mirage!" You gasp, your hands holding onto his large metallic head.

He leans in, running his tongue along your folds, moaning loudly, his hands moving from your waist to under your thighs, keeping you fully supported above him.

You feel the strange layers of metal that make up his tongue, you don't have time to think about it more when you feel it pressing at your entrance.

He puts just the tip in, then licks up to your clit, giving it a little suck, then going back down, over and over again.

"Baby, baby," you pant, your hips rolling against his face. "I'm gonna cum," You whine.

He sucks your clit one last time, not hard enough for you to cum, then stands up, hauling you up and bending you over one of the old cars.

It had a thick layer of dust and looked like it hadn't been driven in decades.

Mirage pulls your dress up, keeping a hand on your lower back to keep you bent. You hear more shifting and whirring before feeling something hot and smooth rub against your thighs.

You moan, arching your back. He chuckles quietly from behind you. "You want this spike, baby?"

Oh, he must be just as desperate as you, he normally uses the "human" version of body parts as you called it. Spike was one that honestly fit.

He pumps himself, then slaps his tip against your folds, making you jump and squirm.

"Mirage, please," he eases himself inside, moaning loud as you. God, he's huge, in all sense of the word.

He pushes in until his cool hips are flush to yours, then leans over your shaking body. One hand gripping your hip and the other just above your head.

"Can....can I move?" He pants, you feel his legs shaking behind you.

"Yes, baby, fuck me,"

He pulls almost all the way out just to slam back in, strong hard snaps of his hips that have you moaning and crying in this random person's garage.

With your face pressed against the dirty car, you reach an arm up toward his hand. Your fingers curling around his, he lifts his hand and engulfs yours, squeezing firmly.

"F...frag," Mirage grits out, his hips moving faster. You'd laugh at the Cybertroian swear if you weren't on the verge of another orgasm.

"I'm gonna cum," You cry, lifting your hips up slightly. His fingers are digging into your hips, you can feel little pin pricks and know they'll be bruised in the morning.

"Yes, yes, please overload with me," He leans down, pressing his face into your neck, hips moving at an erratic fast pace. "Overload....with....me!" He slips his hand from your hip to your clit, rubbing with the same pace as his thrusts.

You buck and moan and cum around him, feeling his hand grip yours tighter, feeling him fill you, his hips bucking into you deeply. He raises up on his tiptoes, curling in further around you, pumping until he was spent.

He sighs, stopping his hips and lowering back onto flat feet. He kisses and nips at your neck.

"You alright, baby?" He rubs his nose on your cheek.

"Yeah," You giggle. "Yeah, I'm alright,"

He straightens up, rubbing your hips and back in soothing circles. "Sorry, I didn't ask before overloading in you,"

"It's alright, baby, it's not like you can get me pregnant," You both laugh softly.

He pulls out and pulls the edge of your dress down, helping you stand on shaking legs. You stand on shaking legs, looking up into his beautiful blue eyes, hands on his chest you lean up into a kiss.

"I love you, baby," You whisper.

"Love you, too," He mumbles against your lips, holding you close to his spark.

#HAHAHHAHAHAHAHA #i wrote this thing WEEEKS AGO #like when rotb first came out #but then he came in third in the poll lmao #transformers #transformers fanfiction #tf #transformers rise of the beasts #tf rotb #transformers rotb #mirage #tf mirage #tf rotb mirage #mirage rotb #mirage x reader #rotb mirage x reader #it is my works

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