Crying Rn, This Is ADORABLE- I Love Them And The Soft Ambience Of This Chapter Makes Me Feel So Happy🥰💕

Her Or Me?

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: You find yourself in a situation you never would have imagined, and Natasha has to make a choice- will she save you or her sister?

Word Count: 1,844

Warnings: Heavy angst, angst without a happy ending, guns, descriptions of torture, descriptions murder, death, major character death, blood, stabbing, broken bones, grief, depression, self-blame, and cursing.

A/N: Here you go anon! I made this like super angsty, I guessed you might have wanted that? Sorry if this was too angsty though! This was something that was so painful to write but also I was invested in it. I would say enjoy but… read the warnings, man.

Natasha never would have thought that she would have to choose between her sister and the love of her life. You supposed she would have laughed and scoffed. This was mainly because of how smoothly her life had been going- she left the Avengers to live out her life with you, and was fitting into a society surprisingly well.

The idea that someone could simply come by and snatch up the two people she cared most for and threaten her with it- well, she couldn’t even think about it without tearing up.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened. And there was nothing Natasha could do anymore.

Your day started relatively normal. You had woken up a bit late and barely made it to work on time, but you quickly found yourself working through your workday routine. There were meetings here and there, and you worked on responding to emails.

You looked over at the clock and yawned, getting ready to pack up for the day and head home. It was roughly 5:30 PM when you started driving back to your apartment but quickly noticed a van following behind you.

At first glance, it didn’t worry you that much. You were an average person, so the idea anyone would have it out for you didn’t make much sense.

But when you went around the block to your apartment building and the car still followed you into the parking lot, you got panicky. You stopped the car and locked all the doors before reaching for your phone and dialing Natasha’s number.

“Hey, baby what’s up?” You heard the redhead ask from the other line.

You took a deep breath, “Someone’s following me, Nat. Someone in a van- they’re sitting in the parking lot and they haven’t come out yet, but I’m scared.”

Natasha paused, “Okay, don’t panic. Just drive back to the cafe, I’m about a three minute walk from there. We’ll meet up. Just drive there- Yelena works there so you should be safe.”

“No, there’s a man in a dark hoodie walking towards me, I don’t-”

The call ended.

You panicked, looking for every weapon you could possibly use when you heard a fist banging on the window. You silently prayed that Natasha would drive over and assume that you were in danger- which you most certainly were.

You screamed when the man ripped your car door completely off and grabbed your neck and arm. You tried to yell for help, but his grip was too tight, and you were quickly losing oxygen.

Your only thoughts were on Natasha- how you missed her. How it wasn’t your time to die yet. How you weren’t ready.

But then, all you felt was a sharp stinging sensation poked into your neck by a needle, and everything went black.

When you woke up, all you felt was extreme pain. Your arms hung up high by a metal chain, and you quickly noticed blood running down your wrist from how tightly the chains were. You saw a dull light and tried to figure out where you were.

As your eyes adjusted, you concluded that you were in fact in the middle of a warehouse. Deep breathes. Just think, what would Natasha do? You thought to yourself, before checking all your pockets for your phone.

No such luck. All of your personal belongings had been taken away from you.

You attempted once again to scan the room, and gasped in shock at what you saw- Yelena, in the same chains and position as you with a gag in her mouth and desperately fighting the metal that restrained her.

You fought back your urge to scream- you had to help her, and you had to help her now. You lowered your voice and whispered, “Yelena, it’s me. It’s Y/N. You have to calm down, okay?”

You could see the blonde’s eyes widen as she tried to get a good look at you. You noticed her trying to get rid of the gag with her tongue, and eventually, it fell out of her mouth. “They took us. They want to get to Natasha- they want her. They’ll kill us if we don’t-”

Yelena never got the opportunity to finish her sentence when a tall, brunette woman slapped her across the face and put the gag back in her mouth.

You felt sick just seeing the woman’s disgusting, evil smirk at the pain you both were in. “It’s nice to finally have you both here. Truly, I am. Now, I know you’re both very smart people. And I think the two of you know exactly what I want. Hm?”

You paused but nodded, “I know who you want. You want Natasha- you’ll never get her. She’s too smart- she’ll come with the Avengers and you’ll never see the light of day again!” You hissed at her- and your rage only grew when the woman simply chuckled in response.

“That’s adorable. But your little girlfriend is already on the way, my dear. When I told her that she had two hours to come here and choose who to save-”

You cut the woman off, “Choose to save? No, don’t you want her dead- you want to murder her! You’re using us as bait, why would you-”

“Listen! You do not know what happened in my past. I don’t wish to see Romanoff die. Now, that would be much too cruel. I want to see her suffer- I want to see the pain in her eyes realizing that she will be the reason one of you won’t walk out of here alive. I want her to be tortured by her guilt every day she walks on this planet.” The brunette growled at you, and you almost felt nauseous as you saw a sick smile tilt her lips.

Yelena’s face dropped, and you could hear the broken sobs racking her chest through the cloth in her mouth. You on the other hand felt painfully numb. A type of numbness feeling you’d never experienced before- it was so strong that you felt you couldn’t live with it.

“Three… two… one.”

There was a crash and Natasha came rushing in, a gun pointed straight at the woman’s head. “Let them go! They have nothing to do with us, Widow. Allow them to leave here safely and I’ll replace them.”

The woman, or Widow you supposed, just chuckled quietly and shook her head, “No Romanoff. You’re not calling the shots here anymore. You don’t get to choose- well, actually, maybe you do.” Her head tilted before she called out, “Boys! It’s ready!”

Natasha tried to rush over to Yelena, but the Widow simply pushed her right back.

You saw two men wearing all black walk into the room, and you felt the cool metal of a gun pressed firmly against your temple and a strong, muscular arm wrapped around your neck. You glanced over at Yelena, who was in the same situation as you.

“You see Romanoff, I’m not here to kill you. I’m only here to kill one of your loves here- which is up to you of course.” Widow replied, looking at her nails, seeming completely unbothered by the events that were occurring.

Natasha’s face streamed with tears and she said in a broken voice, “You can’t expect me to choose. I can’t choose between them- I love them both. I can’t-” She was cut off but Yelena’s scream when the man took a knife and firmly stabbed her thigh.

Natasha was quick to run over but Widow was faster, holding her back, “Now, now your lovely sister will be fine, Romanoff. But I have noticed you care for her, yes? I suppose Y/N can be the one to go then?”

You let out a choke when the arm around your neck tightened, and you felt your airway close. “No, leave them alone! Fucking stop, get off of me you bitch! Stop, stop!” Natasha yelled, thrashing in Widow’s arms.

You could see Natasha's eyes go back and forth, watching life slowly drain out of both of you. You had stab wounds in both of your legs, and you were choking while Yelena had both of her wrists broken.

“Stop it! Please goddamnit, stop it! I can’t, you have to stop! Kill me instead, please! Don’t make me watch them die, just fucking please!” Natasha begged in a hoarse voice, cries of agony ripping through her.

Widow tutted, “Oh you poor thing. Don’t you understand? They don’t both have to die. You can save one of them- why let them both die? Choose Romanoff. Their time will come soon.”

“No, no-” Yelena screamed with a sob when the man stabbed her in her upper right arm- “You leave my sister alone, stop!”

“Nat… please.” You begged her, your oxygen slowly running out. You saw the redhead look at you with watery eyes, and looked away, almost too ashamed to see you. “We have everything planned out… we have a future.”

“I’m sorry baby.” She let out another sob, tears violently running down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry Y/N, I love you so much. I’ll love you forever, baby. I’ll never forget you.”

“NO, PLEASE-”

“Yelena.” Natasha whispered quietly to Widow, and she gave a short nod of approval for the man to finally end your suffering

“You can’t, Nat, NO-”

The click of the gun went off, and the bullet ran through your skull. Natasha cried out as blood ran down your temples, and your eyes had no emotion in them.

“It’s okay, Romanoff. We can’t save them all, hm?” Widow said with a sadistic grin before looking towards the man, who still had a grip on Yelena. “It’s okay. Let Belova go with her sister.”

Yelena was quickly removed from her chains and Natasha wasted no time running over to her and grasping her in her arms.

“They’re gone- because of me! I did this, I’m a murderer- I’m a killer-” Yelena shushed her and slowly rocked her.

“No Nat. You’re not a killer, far from it. Widow didn’t give you a choice, okay? You’re a good person, Nat. Y/N understood- they loved you. They would never blame you.” Yelena grunted in pain, falling over.

Natasha gasped and helped the blonde stand, “We have to get you to a hospital, come on. Let’s go.” The redhead promptly scooped up her sister and ran to the nearest door before running into the daylight.

“It’s going to be okay, Nat. Y/N loved you. Please, understand that they will always love you.” Natasha slowly shook her head, tears forming once again in her eyes,

“I heard their voice, and it wasn’t one of forgiveness. They loved me with all their heart and I threw it away- I’ll never be able to live without them, Lena. I cannot feel happy anymore.”

“That’s not true, you don’t know-”

“It is. Without them, I’m nothing. Just an empty shell. And for what I’ve done, it’s what I deserve. I deserve this guilt, this suffering. I truly do.”

Main Taglist: @catasha @romanoffs-wallflower @wandanatvoid @marvelwomen-simp @freesloppy @alotofpockets @thewidowsghost @didujustcallmedumb @dawnoftime22 @deadcvpid @romanoffscottage @millieistheunofficialsimp @heartoreadallthequeerthingz @avengerswriter4eva @multifandomlesbianic @romanottsmaximoff @chiyongberry

Natasha Romanoff Taglist: @milfloverslut @ghostlybailiffathletestatesman @madamevirgo @proudmorning @fanfictioniseverything

Angst Taglist: N/A

You be out here making me soft😭 This is really sweet, I appreciate it💕🥺

HAPPY FANFIC WRITERS APPRECIATION DAY!!!!!

I want to thank all of you wonderful writers that share your amazing works with us. I hope that you all know how much happiness & joy that you have given to me & I’m sure so many others. Getting to read your fantastic stories have put so many smiles on my face & have made my days so much brighter. I’m sending out love to all of you, REALLY THANK YOU ALLL FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART!!!! You are all FABULOUS!!!!! Here are some of the terrific writers that I have read from this past year,

@thorfanficwriter @what-is-your-plan-today @bolontiku @tilltheendwilliwrite @wordynerdygurl @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @sagechanoafterdark @jewels2876 @jobean12-blog  @that-damn-girl @jay-and-dean @roonyxx @denisemarieangelina  @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @the–sad–hatter

@americancowgirl19 @anathewierdo @angrythingstarlight @beccaanne814 @beyondspaceandstars @bitsandbobsandstuff @bonkywobble​ @buckstaybucky​ @buckybarnesdiaries @buckycuddlebuddy @buckysknifecollection @bugsbucky @callmeluna​ @carryonmywaywardcaptain​ @chevyharvelle @crispychrissy @cuddles-with-bucky @datfandombitch @elatedmarvel @fandom-basurero @fangirlovestuff @hannahshattuck @helloimanavenger @high-functioning-lokipath @honeyloverogers​ @howlingmedic @imagine-assembling-the-avengers @imaginedreamwrite @imagining-supernatural @just-the-hiddles @katymacsupernatural @ladytodd @lokibug  @loki-hargreeves​  @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @luci-in-trenchcoats​ @magellan-88 @marvelgirl7 @mostly-marvel-musings @navybrat817 @original-wintersoldier @percywinchester27 @plus-size-reader  @samwilsons-pillowpecs @shield-agent78 @shy-violet-soul @smediumsmeatbae @specialagentlokitty @spinsterlocity-writes @starlight-loki @starlightcrystalline @supernaturallymarvelous  @sunflowerxbarnes @sunriserose1023 @talesmaniac89 @thatfangirl42 @the–blackdahlia @the-emo-asgardian @theycallmebecca @tuiccim @thinkinghardhardlythinking  @twittytelly @vodka-and-some-sass @waiting4inspiration @waywardnerd67 @whisperlullaby @world-of-aus @writingfromkitchenator @writingsoftheloser  @why-did-i-write-this @xbuchananbarnes

And I hope that if you haven’t check out their work you do, I’d highly recommend them & so many others on here. It would take forever to list all the wonderful & talented writers on here, but I really want to thank each & every one of you that post on here, because you have given me so much joy!!! All of

And I love & appreciate you all so much🤗🤗🥰🥰😍😍❤️❤️!!!!! 

OMG HII for slutty Sunday, I've had this thought stuck in my head for so long but basically dom!CEO!Natasha romanoff brings sub!shy!female reader to work and there's cockwarming, use of vibrators AND BASICALLY JUST NAT TEASING R AND DEGRADATION AND PRAISE KFOROFOEIDIDJFJJWOW also r is so innocent and just lets her mistress play with her and I can't get rid of the thought of nat having r kneel beside and table and just plays with her boobs and fucks r's mouth w her fingers *dies* yeah anyway. Horknee.

-Raven <3

Hold Me in Your Lap of Luxury

Summary: Natasha finds a way to entertain herself at work: you.

Warning: smut, cockwarming, vibrators, praise, degradation, mistress kink, not proofread

A/N: i’m in love with this request so i turned it into a short fic

“Come here,” the redhead says, beckoning you over. She pats her lap as she pulls away from the desk to make space for you. You hesitantly make your way over to her. The woman becomes impatient as she pulls you onto her lap herself.

“Natty,” you start but a sharp look from the woman in front of you has you saying, “mistress?” She hums in return as she ducks her head to scatter kisses across the skin of your neck. Your head falls back slightly to give her more space on her canvas.

You swallow harshly when her hand comes up to grope your chest. You don’t know what to say so you remain silent until the redhead glances up at your flustered expression. “There’s no need to be shy,” she mutters against your skin.

Natasha pulls away to stroke your heated cheek. She leans down to press her lips against your timid ones. Her palm comes up to cup the back of your neck bringing you closer to her. The woman has no rush, simply trying to coax you from your shell.

Her hands run down your sides—you let out a giggle—landing on your hips. Natasha untucks your shirt as her hands run up under it to grope at your chest again. She pulls away to grin at you before gently pushing you off her.

You stare at the woman with wide eyes but quickly become flustered at the sight of the toy in her hand. She beckons you over with a mischievous grin. Her hands come up to your hips, swiftly pulling your pants down as you watch her with blazed cheeks.

“Be a good girl and put this on,” she grins handing you the pretty pink vibrator. You gawk at the woman, lips parted as you struggle to say something. Natasha raises a brow at you silently encouraging you to speak—hoping she’ll get to punish you.

“Here?” you ask timidly, glancing around the office where anyone could come in at any moment. She chuckles at your timidness.

“Where else?” That’s all you needed to hesitantly pull your panties down before you’re interrupted, “keep them on,” she says. You swallow harshly at her command but nod.

Once it’s in, you deal with the discomfort for a moment before you jolt forward, almost falling into your mistress’ arms. “Oh!” you let out as Natasha catches you. You can see the remote in her hand as she controls the vibrations that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Go ahead and kneel for me,” she mutters, pointing to the spot beside her chair. You glance down at the dirty floor before pleadingly glancing up at the woman. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

You have no other choice than to slowly make your way down. The floor is cool against your knees as you stare up at your mistress. She brings a hand down to cup your cheek as she coos at you. “Such a good girl,” she says.

At her praise, you can’t help but buck your hips against the floor, desperate for any sort of friction. “Dirty whore,” she mutters, lightly slapping your cheek. She doesn’t hesitate to bring up the setting on the vibrator, though, reveling in the way you buck against the air.

“Please,” you whine, wanting her to touch you. She tuts at you before turning away from your—as she calls it—pathetic whines. Natasha leaves the high setting on yet ignores your pleas to cum. She knows you will anyway and she’ll take great pleasure in punishing you for it.

When you do cum—without permission—she grins to herself before turning to you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Desperate whore just couldn’t help herself, could she?” she mocks. She chuckles at your tears as you apologize profusely.

“Sorry won’t do it now,” she coos but beckons you up. You’re quick to stand as you shuffle on your feet, afraid of whatever punishment was ahead of you. Natasha pulls you closer to her by the back of your neck. “Naughty girls get punished,” she mutters.

She keeps you there close to her as her fingers come up to your mouth. The redhead pushes in two fingers into your mouth resting against your tongue before they make their way down to trigger your gag reflex. Natasha chuckles at that mercilessly fucking your face before she pulls her fingers away with a trail of saliva.

She watches you attempt to regain your breath as she unbuckles her belt. The woman pulls out her strap which you recognize as the biggest one she has. She pays her lap and you’re quick to straddle her. Natasha pushes aside your panties and guides her strap into your glistening cunt.

“Now, you’re gonna stay here and warm my cock while I finish up, and I’ll deal with you when we get home,” she grins. You don’t know what she has up her sleeve but when her knee starts bouncing you know what it is. She knows the effect she has on you as you notice the subtle smirk on her face as she works.

“If you move your punishment will be even worse.”

🏷: @winters-witch-bitch, @anartistsmuseinlondon, @consciouschunkofmoss, @inluvwithfictionalwomen, @riveravalonsage, @therealvangough

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

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

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

Word Count: 3.4K

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

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

The Proposal Chapter One

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

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

“You’re a lifesaver, Kate.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll tell them politely no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You got it.”

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

“This weekend?” you ask.

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep.”

“Did she want to kill me like usual?”

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

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

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

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

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

“The same. You?“

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

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

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

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

“You better be joking,” laughs Dreykov.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s doing it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” she asks.

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

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

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

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

“Jesus fucking shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ms. Romanoff?” he asks.

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

“I need you to follow me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Are you currently in contact with her?“

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

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

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

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

“How old is she turning?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to be an editor.”

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

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

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

“And I want my manuscript published.”

“Ten thousand copies,” she agrees.

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

“Fine. Marry me,” she says flatly.

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

“I’m not doing that,” she hisses.

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

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

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

“You don’t really have a choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Piss off, homeycomb.”

Triple Threat

Summary: Three friends, one bet and two idiots in love. What could go wrong?

Natasha Romanoff x Super Soldier Fem Reader

Word Count: 5K

A/N: My first NatxReader fic ever. Hope you enjoy <3 

“Do you think she’s single?”

The girls look in your direction, not even bothering to pretend they’re actually working out at the Tower’s gym. Oblivious to their conversation and with your headphones in place, you keep the pace on the treadmill, pushing yourself to the limit.

“Don’t know, Minds. I just want her to use me for a night”, the blonde interjects.

“Keeping it classy, Lindsay” 

“I don’t think she’s dating anyone. We would have heard by now”, another girl comes behind them and the three share a conspiratory look. “Honestly, I almost asked her out when we were shooting that promo video for the animal shelter. Watching her hold a puppy made me ovulate”

“You should have” Lindsay says. “You missed your chance and now I’m gonna do it”

“Nu-uh, I called dibs”

“No one did, Kate” Mindy rolls her eyes.

“Alright, let’s all ask her out, see who gets a date”

“What if she says yes to all of us?”

“I don’t mind sharing” Lindsay winks at her friends. “Now, rock paper scissors to decide which one goes first”

Too engrossed in their argument, the friends never noticed Natasha Romanoff. The spy threw a hard kick at the punching bag and left the gym, deciding that if she had to endure another second listening to that stupid conversation she was gonna kill all three of them.

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Marching On

(Bruce / Tony / Clint / Steve / Natasha)

Masterlist

(Gifs not mine)

(After the events of the Avengers, everyone moves into the tower; such broken people saved the world.)

1/ Bruce

He thinks she doesn’t like him.

It’s fair, he supposes, after the events on the helicarrier. He purposefully stays out of her way for the first month at least.

It’s easier when there are others around, and everyone makes an effort. Tony engages him in conversations of biomechanics and the theory of nanotech; and he watches Steve awkwardly adapt to the niceties of having money and time to live that’s not in war.

Clint, he watches more than the others. His quick smile and easy humour is genuine that he can tell, and he finds that when he’s quite he can hear the intelligence of the archer in all the things he doesn’t say.

.

Bruce moves into the Tower at Tony’s request. He’s been a nomad for so long that he figures it doesn’t really matter where he stays, and Tony promises to pump money into the vaccine program in India, where Natasha found him.

It’s probably more good than he’ll ever do.

There’s mandated therapy for all of them after the events of New York.

Guilt tears at him and he tries to explain to the therapist that he has had enough therapy for a lifetime, he knows he’s responsible for multiple deaths, and it’s things he lives with daily.

He tells her that her time would be better used with people that actually need it; children that have lost parents, people who have lost their partners, those that are injured, traumatised… the list could go on.

He should be last on the list, he tells her, of people getting help, and with that he’s promptly signed up to fortnightly sessions.

Tony laughs when he tells him, and says she said the same to him. He clasps him on the back and leads him to his lab.

“Build something,” Tony advises, “it helps.”

And Bruce knows that he’s made the right decision in coming here.

.

He likes watching people.

Clint the most, he thinks.

Tony is predictable.

Steve is aloof, polite.

And where there’s Clint, there’s usually Natasha.

It’s rare that they aren’t together and he can see how protective she is of him.

It’s little things. The way she walks through the door last, checking his back. The way she makes sure he eats, and refuses when he offers her some.

And the way she is quick with her words whenever anyone says a bad word against him.

She can be caustic where Tony is blunt, matches Steve’s quietness and there’s times that he’s left the room at her suggestion but it’s felt like his own idea.

He likes watching Clint, because it means he can also watch Natasha.

.

He feels particularly rattled after a therapy session, and he passes Natasha going in.

“Good luck,” he murmurs, and she smiles shallowly at him. He doesn’t think much of it and heads straight to bed even though it’s just after 3pm.

He wakes up some time around midnight, his stomach rumbling and his throat parched.

His room holds snacks, but he wants the left over fried rice they had two nights prior.

A beer would also be good, he thinks, even if the buzz he once experienced no longer occurs.

Slowly moving to the kitchen, he finds Natasha sitting at the breakfast bar eating cereal.

Purposely, he makes some noise to alert her to his presence but she already knows, standing and moving around the bench bringing her bowl with her, throwing the rest of the food into the disposable.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he opens with.

She shrugs.

“Was done,” she says, with a tired smile.

Bruce nods and pulls the rice from the fridge. Looks for the beer and pulls out two, offering her one that is declined as she seems caught between keeping him company and sneaking out.

“You can go,” he tells her, putting the food in the microwave and opening the beer as it cooks.

It works to catch her and social pressure makes her sit.

“You couldn’t sleep, either?”

Natasha watches him closely, as he pulls the hot food out and shakes his hands against the heat. He feels idiotic around her.

In a moment of abject honestly, she shakes her head.

“Clint had a nightmare,” she says, not looking at him.

Bruce finds it interesting, that in the middle of the night is when Natasha is most honest.

He nods, sitting next to her with his food and beer.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks.

He doubts that she will, as silence fills the kitchen.

So he offers up some of himself.

“Today in therapy,” he starts, “we talked about hyper vigilance and how I over obsess… over-estimate, maybe, the potential for danger at any given moment.” He takes another bite and wonders where he’s going with this.

“The practice was to be more mindful but not fearful of my surroundings.”

He scoffs.

“Why does therapy always seem so draining?” he finishes. He starts eating again, not expecting answers, even almost expecting her to leave as he sips his beer and finishes off the rice.

Natasha watches him closely, he feels her gaze run over him, and it’s likely that this is what the therapist was talking about.

“There’s three doors in this room, I have two guns ready, ones under the table,” she pauses.

“Tony is in the lab, Clint is asleep in his bed, and Steve is in the gym,” cocking her head, she stares at him.

“And you’re in here eating.”

Straight faced, they make eye contact.

“I think we must have had similar conversations.” She smirks.

Bruce grins.

“Tony should get a refund, that’s two for one advice,” he jokes.

“Was your homework the same too?” He laughs.

She grows serious, and he wonders what he said. As much as he watches her, he still has no idea what she’s thinking.

“Small acts of trust,” she says, as she stands and heads for the fridge.

He laughs.

“At least it’s tailored to our particular issues,” he deadpans.

He watches as she takes some string cheese from the fridge, slowly opening it, and pulling it apart.

He stands and disposes of his bowl and as he turns he watches her chew on the cheese as she disposes of the rest.

Shrugging, Natasha yawns, and bids him good night.

He replies in kind, and, as Bruce heads back to bed, it occurs to him that it was likely Natasha practicing what the therapist had asked of her.

Even if to him it seemed like nothing.

.

There’s a difference, Bruce notices in the way Natasha acts with him.

It seems that on days that therapy occurs they end up in the kitchen at midnight. Sometimes Clint is there, sometimes Tony.

It’s like a repair of sorts, where he offers her something of himself and when he’s lucky she offers something back.

Small acts of trust, he thinks, is a lesson they’re all learning.

.

Period Pains

Natasha x Reader

Notes: Made this because I'm in bed wishing I had a girlfriend to come cuddle me

Word Count: 1k

You can feel the disappointment settled deeply in your bones the moment you wake up. The unsettling feeling low in your abdomen causes you to sigh. It’s a frustrating feeling and you should be used to it by now. Yet it never seems to stop bothering you. You reach across the bed to feel for Natasha only to be met with nothing. She must be out training. You sit up slowly, hoping to ease the pain in your belly, as you try to wake up enough to go to the bathroom. Another month. Another week of pain. You plant your feet on the ground, hands pressed against the bed, as you push yourself to a standing position. You shuffle the few feet across the room to reach the bathroom. You reach under the bathroom sink to find a sanitary napkin before dropping down onto the toilet seat. You swipe at the tears in your eyes at the sight of blood in your panties. It shouldn’t feel like this. It shouldn't be this way. Deciding that you feel icky, a shower is the only way to get you feeling decent enough.

You stand again, flushing the toilet behind you before walking over to the shower. You turn it to the hottest setting you can stand before tossing the panties and your sleep shorts into the nearby hamper. You wait for the water to heat up before stepping under the shower. You can barely stand and everything feels unstable. Your head hurts, your breasts are tender, your legs feel shaky beneath you. You make quick work of cleaning yourself, hoping to alleviate some of the pain in your lower back as the water rains down on you.

Natasha will be home soon. Then she can come and lay with you. All you want is Tasha.

You step out of the shower to wrap yourself in a towel rushing to your bedroom to put on a pair of panties and the sanitary napkin. You’re not even going to try tampons. No matter how many times people recommend it having something inside of you seems to hurt. So you stick to pads. It’s a simple step and you toss the wrapper in the trash. You avoid looking at yourself in the mirror. Everything hurts. You try not to think too hard as you reach inside of the medicine cabinet for extra strength Midol. The only thing that makes periods bearable for you. You pop open the packaging, pushing the pills into your mouth, before turning on the sink. You cup your hands under the running water to sip the water. It’s enough for you to swallow and you do so with a frown.

Giving one final glance to the bathroom to make sure it’s clean, you rush back into your bedroom. You dig through Natasha’s drawer for one of her oversized t-shirts. It used to be Clint’s but now it’s hers. It smells like her laundry detergent and it brings you comfort while you wait for her. You stretch it over your head straightening it down your body. You don’t care about pants right now. It would only annoy you to have the fabric over your sensitive skin right now. You crawl into the middle of the bed pulling the covers over your head. You just want to sleep.

You don’t realize that you actually do fall asleep until Natasha is brushing her fingers along your face. She whispers for you to wake up and you do with a whimper. The pain comes back at you full force as you blink your eyes open.

“Hey, J.A.R.V.I.S. informed me you weren’t feeling well,” She speaks in a hushed tone. Her brows knit with concern and she gestures to the tea and hot water bottle sitting on the nightstand. “I brought reinforcements.” She says.

“Yeah,” You whimper again tears shining in your eyes now. “Hold me?” You ask. You don’t care how you look. You’re in pain and you want her. Natasha doesn’t hesitate to crawl into bed. You lift, waiting expectantly for her to find a good position, and that’s when you notice what she’s wearing. A simple black tank top, no bra, and biker shorts. She must have showered when she got here. She pulls you into her arms as she lies against the pillows. She reaches with her left hand to grab the hot water bottle pressing it against your back. You flinch slightly before sighing in relief at your aching muscles fighting against the heat.

“You got your period?” She guesses and you nod against her collarbone. She kisses the top of your head. She knows the first few days of your period leave you practically bedridden. She rubs her thumb soothingly against your bare arm under the sleeve of your shirt. You listen to her breathing for a few seconds finding the constant beating almost lullaby-like.

“I’m sorry, Tasha.” You say suddenly. “It’s not fair.” You press your face further into her body clutching her shirt between your fingers as another wave of cramps hits you. She knows what you mean.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” She soothes. “We can try again.” She promises. “If you want. Only if you want.” She says. She’s so understanding. She’s always so understanding with you. You close your eyes, trusting her to keep you safe, as you try to relax.

Natasha’s hand that had been rubbing your arm travels down your body and under your t-shirt. She reaches just slightly under the waistband of your panties, pausing her fingers when you tense under her. You’re sensitive but you nod against her to continue. She presses just slightly on the skin there. Right, where you feel the most pain. She massages gently and you whine. Her touches are gentle and caring as she tries to alleviate some of the pain you’re feeling. It seems to be working as you feel the muscles under her fingers relax just slightly.

“I love you,” You whisper to her.

“I love you too,” She whispers back.

babygirl there is something obviously wrong with your brain

Thursday

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F.Reader

Word Count: 1200  

Warning: Angst. So much angst. 

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love like you || w.m.

ship: scarlet witch!wanda/soft mommy!wanda/little!reader (mirror au)

warnings: allusions to multiverse of madness, smut (18+), also some light angst and lots of fluff, MDLG, selfcest, spanking, non-explicit mentions of rough sex, non-sexual punishments, aftercare

a/n: again thank u to motts and britt who truly had their gay little hands very involved in crafting this dynamic

Wanda was not expecting to choose to live a quiet life with her variant and her little, and she most certainly wasn’t expecting both of them to happily accept her into their lives - but it was exactly the environment she never knew she needed. 

It took a while for the three of you to get used to the dynamic. It was much easier for you, since you were already used to living with one Wanda. This new Wanda was just a little more broken around the edges, a little more paranoid and possessive of you, needing a lot of reassurance - which you were more than willing to provide. 

When you called her Mommy for the first time, you could practically see her tear up before she held you tighter, kissing your forehead and saying, “Yes, little one. Mommy’s here.” 

Mama and Mommy took a little more time getting used to each other - caught up in the idea that they were seeing the best and worst of each other laid out so plainly in front of them - but Mama’s soft approach to helping Mommy made the process a lot smoother for both of them. 

You actually didn’t realize that their relationship had developed into something more than just both being your mommies for a while. That was, until one day you woke up from a deep sleep, confused and cold because of the empty bed. 

You padded into the kitchen, Wandabear tucked under your arm and paci in your mouth, following the soft glow of the light over the sink. The pair were leaned against the counter, sharing soft kisses and caresses. It looked like Mommy had been crying, her tired eyes rimmed with red. But you could see a soft smile planted clearly on her face as Mama kissed her nose like she does with you when you’re feeling down. 

The moment was so intimate that you were about to creep back into bed and wait for them to return, but of course with two mind readers they were well aware of your presence. 

Mommy Wanda will sometimes get really moody and frustrated with herself for feeling that way and sometimes will accidentally snap at both of you. The first time this happened, you were immediately taken back to that first time you met her and she was in a crazed fury looking for her children, startled by finding you and Mama instead. 

She’s getting better about her temper. Mama has helped a lot, urging her to use her words and talk the feelings out rather than bottling them up until she snaps. Sometimes she still gets in cloudy moods, but she’s made a lot of progress and is able to get through them a lot easier with you and Mama helping.

Mommy Wanda is very very whipped for both of you, as much as she denies it. 

All three of you have the biggest praise kinks.

Mommy and Mama both get incredibly soft when they’re fucking and the other calls tells them how good they’re doing. And you are just always eager for positive attention from them both <3

They’re both strict with you but in very different ways. 

Mommy is much more likely to let you get away with breaking rules, like sneaking you cookies and letting you stay up past your bedtime. But she is also much more likely to punish you with spankings if you talk back to her. 

“Watch your tone with me, little devil,” is something you hear probably multiple times a day because you kind of can’t help riling Mommy up. 

Mama, on the other hand, is very strict on your daily rules. No dessert before you finish your dinner. Bedtime at 10pm. No throwing a tantrum to get something you want in the store. But if you give her a little sass, she’s usually just going to roll her eyes and let you get your bratty energy out before asking, “Are you done now, baby?” and you just pout at her and nod. 

Mama much prefers corner time as a punishment. Or writing lines. She doesn’t like to do impact play with you (but does rather enjoy the way you squirm as Mommy turns your cheeks red).

Both of them enjoy watching the other fuck you a lot. Mommy is a lot rougher than Mama - who was surprised at how much you loved the hard treatment. You had never expressed to her how you thought about her just using you. Mommy was more than willing to help fulfil those fantasies. 

The three of you always end up taking a big bath together after a tiring play session. You all barely all fit in the tub together - even after Mama got a new one. 

Mommy really loves washing you. It’s therapeutic for her to take care of you like that. 

Bedtime always consists of a lot of cuddles and kisses and sweet words before the three of you drift off to sleep. 

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