Ahhh Imagine Nat Or Wandanat Is Away On A Week Or Two Long Mission And You Miss Them So You Read Fanfics

Mom Nat and Dad Bucky notice their daughter is very stressed from school and they take it upon themselves to relax her and make her feel good :)

warnings: INCEST, mom!nat x dad!bucky x daughter!reader, slight cuckholding, and oral sex.

DO NOT READ if this triggers you. Your media consumption is your responsibility.

With his head between her legs, the redhead threw her own back in pleasure as the super soldier gave her cunt a languid lick. She was nearing to her finish just as both Natasha and Bucky heard their front door slam shut in surprise.

Bucky pulled away from his wife and shared a look, their heads both turning to the sound before they stood up and pulled down Natasha’s dress.

“Honey?” Natasha peaked her head into the room, worry evident in her tone just as she saw you laid stomach flat against your king size bed.

“Babydoll, you alright?” Bucky’s deep voice boomed through and just to respond, you kicked your legs in town with a cry erupting from your lips against your pillow.

The two rushed to your bed and sat on the edge, both opposite to each other as Natasha held a hand to your back and rubbed it softly.

Still in your uniform, your skirt rode up as you kicked your legs, screaming and groaning in frustration. Both your father and mother caught sight of the white undies you sported and Natasha couldn’t help but even blush at the sight.

“Is it school, bunny?”

You nodded in tow and the two Russians looked at each other with sorrow, the guilt present on their faces just as Bucky sighed.

“I have so many things to do,” you sat up properly this time and was met by your parent’s concerned faces. “Papers, reports, extracurricular. It’s too much...”

They frowned at your concern, worried for your health, both physically and mentally. Natasha shook her head at your words and inched towards you onto the bed. With a hand tilting your head up, she leaned close and closed the gap between the two of you.

“Natalia—” Bucky was shushed with a finger from his wife and as much as he adored the image in front of him, he zipped his mouth closed.

Your eyes went wide in surprise at the touch and taste of your mother’s tongue. While her kiss was soft and gentle, it was firm and driven as her hand drew your head closer.

She only pulled for a moment to breathe, a grin present on her face when she turned to her husband.

“Well? Don’t just stand there with your dick hard. Help me out.”

Interlude

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: This is part of another fic challenge with @quietlyimplode. This is set after Black Widow for Natasha and after the Raft for Wanda.

Wanda could feel the aching sting of where the dampening collar had once sat around her neck.

Her skin buzzed as she stumbled to her feet. 

Her mind buzzed too. Power flooded back into her veins like a broken dam. She stretched out each of her fingers unsurely. The relief was overwhelming, but it wasn’t enough.

Keep reading

older!nat x younger!reader fics

under is a compilation of fics that include an age up natasha romanoff with a younger reader. read warnings for more information

older!nat gets a visit from her sunshine and gets mistaken for her daughter

the avengers flirt with reader unaware of her and natasha’s relationship

the avengers have a movie night with natasha and her little ball of sunshine sleeping against her

reader and natasha’s favourite qualities about each other

— nsfw!

coming soon

Clint: I don’t think we can mansplain, manipulate or malewife our way out this one.

Natasha: *cracks knuckles*

Natasha: Manslaughter it is

Luck

Summary: The reader is content in her relationship and her sexuality, but when a coworker brings up some painful questions, she has to wonder if Bucky and Yelena are missing something vital from their relationship because of her.

Pairing: ace!Reader x Bucky Barnes x Yelena Belova

Word Count: ~7.3k

Warnings: poly relationship, mentions/discussion of sex (not smut, no description), angst (happy ending), acephobia, biphobia

A/N: This turned out to be an incredibly cathartic and personal fic for me to write. I would love to hear any feedback and hope you enjoy it!

There was something about the way people looked at her when she told them, that made her keep the secret for years. 

She knew she was different, and sometimes she felt broken for it.

She didn’t know how to explain it, and so for years she had kept it a silent secret, hiding the truth of her singular nature, her virginity, no matter how socially constructed it was, and her solitude. 

But Y/N was comfortable being ace, content and happy.

And until Bucky Barnes had come into her life, she had been convinced she might simply be alone forever, content that it might be that way. But Bucky had been understanding in a way that no one else ever had been or tried to be. Their relationship had come on slowly, like waves against a craggy shore. Bucky needed something slow, something that might have seemed agonizingly slow to anyone else. 

But she had enjoyed it, had liked hand holding that turned to cuddling that turned to kissing. And so when Bucky brought up sex - she felt comfortable enough to tell him the truth. 

She’d panicked a little, worried he wouldn’t get it, would write her off the moment she said it. It had happened in the past with people she thought she could trust. 

He’d listened and understood and told her it didn’t change anything. Bucky had been thoughtful, listened carefully to her explanation that she didn’t feel sexual attraction. He’d been prepared to figure something out when she told him she could have sex with him, would enjoy it too, she just wouldn’t ever suggest it. It wasn’t a need for her, like it might be for him. 

You just have to tell me what you need. 

And it worked, because working through needs and wants and freedom was something Bucky had been learning too. That this choice was always his to initiate seemed not only to work for him but encourage him.

Y/N met Yelena at the strip club she worked at as a bartender. Yelena had been chasing someone in the club, smashing glass and knocking over tables, arsenal of weapons strapped around her small body. Y/N felt a connection with her almost immediately, and not just because she’d stopped a man from stabbing her. 

Somehow she had fit between her and Bucky so well, it was like Yelena had always been there. 

Yelena vaguely knew of Bucky, knew that Bucky had known Natasha at some point, however blurry and distorted those memories might be. 

Introducing them had been easy, and falling into the current relationship had been even easier. 

She didn’t question why or how either of them had accepted it, each of them wanting it as bad as the other. She didn’t consider why it worked, why they accepted it. Never questioned if something might be missing. 

The relationship worked. 

That was all that mattered. 

~

It was usually a mistake to try to explain her relationship to people who did not know her well. Not only was she in a poly relationship, but she was also asexual. 

It confused people. 

“I mean,” the new hire Y/N’s training starts to ask, tilting her head to the side. “How does it work then? Don’t you hate sex? Oh, they’re asexual too, then?”

With her back turned she rolls her eyes and finishes polishing the glass in her hand, “They definitely don’t hate sex. And I don’t hate sex. It's just not a need for me. I could go forever without it.” 

“Oh,” the woman says, eyes trained on the currently empty dance stage. “I kind of thought that was the point though. Of being asexual. Hating it.” 

“Like anything, it's a spectrum. Some people are sex repulsed, some don’t mind the idea if it makes their partner happy. And anything in between. It’s individual.” She shelves the glass in her hand, wishing she hadn’t brought it up, had settled on an easier answer to the question so are you seeing anyone?

She should have left it at a simple yes, and fielded all the follow up questions with I’m a private person, sorry. 

But she had liked the new hire, gotten along with her for the past two weeks of her training period. She seemed open, and cool, and was also queer. But she knew better than that, that being queer did not preclude people from having other biases and stereotypes. 

“So you do have sex with them? How often?” 

She stiffens. 

It's not something people who don’t fall onto the ace spectrum get asked. The question hurts, reminds her of all the little holes inside her, all the things that she thought were broken about herself for years. 

She tries to laugh it off, finally turning to meet her eyes, “I’m not answering that, sorry.” 

The giggle that escapes the new hire, Lisa, makes her cringe, so she sets about turning all the liquor bottles so their labels face outwards, anything to avoid looking at the other woman. 

“Clearly you’re attracted to them-,”

“Yeah, I am,” she tries not to snap. “I can tell when someone is hot but that doesn’t mean I want to fuck them. That’s what asexuality is, lack of sexual attraction,” she tries to explain patiently. “I’m more attracted to personality anyways-,”

“Then what’s the point?” Lisa cuts her off. 

“Of what?” She asks leaning against the counter as one of the regulars approaches the bar. Lisa takes a minute to flirt for a tip and make his drink before sending him off again. 

“Attraction I guess?” She turns to her, crossing her arms and raising a brow. “Like, if you don’t ever really want to have sex with them, then what’s the point?”

She doesn’t know how to respond and so she shakes her head and turns away, wiping the counter down. 

The point? She loves them. She’s attracted to them in every other way, was happy to make sure all their needs were met. And it worked well, she thought, that Bucky and Yelena had each other too. 

Luckily she’s saved from answering or thinking about it too much as a wave of customers approach the bar and one of the girls takes the first dance of the night. She smiles and chats like she always does, efficient and friendly, harsh when a drunk becomes too much. 

She likes her job, likes the quick pace of it. She likes how she doesn’t have to think, despite Lisa’s words hurricaning around her mind, an endless loop.

It’s a question she had asked herself so many times, while she was coming to terms with what she thought her identity might turn out to be. 

What’s the point of being attracted to someone if you don’t want to sleep with them? 

She still doesn’t really know. She doesn't like the cracked feeling that springs up in her chest at the thought. 

Love, she tells herself harshly. Intimacy and safety and warmth, that’s the point. 

Sex didn’t make a relationship complete. 

She tries to remind herself of all the ways she isn’t broken, of all the ways she’s capable of love, that physical love is not the ultimate expression of love. That she isn’t broken because she doesn’t feel a particular pull to the act.

Bucky and Yelena love her as she is, accept her as she is. 

She’s devoted, she loves both of them in spades. 

Bucky because he’s warm and protective and gentle. 

Yelena because she’s funny and loyal and soft under the shell she wears.

She’ll go home to them after this shift, shower off the smell of the club, slot herself behind them in their king size bed, beam with happiness when one of them would inevitably turn and tuck her closer. 

Certainly she has a type, she smiles to herself.

Loyal and protective with a hard exterior that hides a heart of gold. Not to mention that they’re both formerly brainwashed Russian assassins. The bond she had watched them form over it had been when she worried the most. People with shared trauma either jived well or they decidedly did not. 

Lucky for her, Yelena’s firebrand reckoning with the world for the loss of her years and her sister contrasted well with Bucky’s quiet path of amends, hardly spoken of but which helped remind Yelena to temper herself. 

Lisa does fine during their shift and Y/N thinks that she can probably handle her next shift alone, or at least without training wheels. Their shift ends at midnight, the closers replacing them at the bar. 

She’s glad to be heading home, wants desperately to be away from Lisa and the thoughts that she makes shift around in her mind. She drifts to the dancers’ changing room, where she keeps her bag and coat. The girls greet her as she enters. She knows most of them well after years of running the bar. 

Lisa follows, the conversation between them now pleasant, about how she’d done well and could fly solo, about the customers.

She thinks the conversation between them earlier was a fluke, a little misunderstanding that they didn’t have to talk about anymore. 

But as she’s shrugging on her coat, Lisa turns and says, “Like, sorry for bringing it up again, but I was thinking - isn’t one of your partners a girl? Do you prefer sleeping with her? Have you heard of compulsory heterosexuality? Maybe-,” 

This was the worst part of it. The boxing in, the suffocating labeling that people tried to foist onto her. The assumption that she hadn’t already thought of that, that she’s confused and that a veritable stranger knew her better than she knew herself. 

“No,” she says simply, cutting Lisa off. “It’s not that. It’s not them, it's me.” 

“So then you’re bisexual.” 

The word almost sounds dirty coming out of her mouth. 

One of the dancers notices. “Hey,” Nicole, one of the veteran dancers snaps. “Fuck off. There’s nothing wrong with being bisexual.” 

“Of course not,” she answers in a tone that suggests there is. “I’m just trying to get an understanding of Y/N’s relationship.” 

“It's not yours to understand,” Nicole says, standing to join Y/N, looping their arms together. “Fuck off, new girl, before I drag you out of here.” 

Lisa looks shocked for just a moment, before opening her mouth. Y/N continues, not letting the other woman continue whatever thought had occurred to her, “Look, I’m not pressed about labeling myself, or what I feel, or my relationship. I’m attracted to both of my partners, and I don’t feel sexual attraction to anyone.”

Nicole squeezes her hand, reassuring and warm and she’s never been more grateful. She remembers Nicole sitting on the floor behind the bar on a slow night, hiding from the manager and listening to her talk about her sexuality without any judgment, curious and supportive. 

After that night, Nicole got free drinks whenever she wanted them. 

The conversation seems to be over as Lisa shrugs and moves to grab her bag. She’s about to sigh, tension draining away as Nicole pats her arm when Lisa says quietly, “I just wonder what they get out of it.” 

She pauses, Nicole’s fingers tightening against her skin again. “What?”

Lisa shrugs. “Just like, if they fuck without you, and they’re happy…like why do they need a third?”

She blinks, automatically putting out an arm to stop Nicole from lunging forward to throttle the girl. 

“Guess it's good it doesn’t affect you then,” Y/N says stiffly.

“Not trying to be rude. Just saying. Do they fuck without you around?” 

She swallows and answers, not sure why she’s entertaining the question. “They do. I know that they do. It makes sense for us, for our relationship.”

Y/N has had sex with Bucky and Yelena seperately, and on several occasions together. 

But more often than not, they had sex with each other. 

It never makes her feel like she isn’t valued, like she’s the annoying third to an otherwise stable two person relationship. 

Is it possible she misjudged the situation so badly because sex wasn’t important to her? 

But Yelena also has a low sex drive, so much so that Y/N had thought she was ace as well. But Yelena hadn’t wanted to label herself and so she had let it go. 

Either way, she and Bucky needed sex in the relationship where Y/N did not. 

She wants to comment that maybe the conversation is inappropriate for work, but the dressing room of a strip club had heard much worse than this minor embarrassment.  

“You don’t have to answer her questions,” Nicole says. 

“It’s okay.” 

Lisa raises a brow, and Y/N hates that she’s thinking about it now. If there’s something she’s missing. If she’s as incomplete as she’s always feared she was.

No, she thinks viciously, stopping that line of thought. She isn’t incomplete, but maybe she’s wrong for their relationship, if their needs aren't being met. 

Needs could be overlooked in any relationship, why not theirs? 

“I’m just saying, maybe you should think about it. Maybe you should talk about it with them. It's not fair to them after all if you’re withholding something they need because you might be confused.” It hurts to hear but she finds herself nodding anyway. She keeps a hand pressed into Nicole’s arm. 

She decides that that should be the end of the conversation, before the panic choking her bubbles up and sends her spiraling. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ve got a train to catch.” 

“Sure.” 

Some of the other dancers approach her as she heads for the door but she waves them back, says she’s fine.

Outside in the cool midnight air, she takes a deep breath, holding in the panic, the anxiety swimming around in her stomach, the worry that her partners were lacking in something vital and she hadn’t realized it. 

A burning shame builds up and cascades over as she stands there with her back pressed against the brick exterior of the building. She feels stupid. 

Has she really spent years coming to terms with who she is for a few awkward questions make her question everything all over again? 

She thought she handled this years ago, had come to terms with her identity. 

Clearly not, if it was this easy to uproot her again. 

But no, she’s secure in herself, as being as she is. The real worry is the thought that she’s hurting the people she cares about, that she’s not good enough for them, that she’s not enough for them. 

Back when it had just been her and Bucky, he had always met her after her shifts and walked her home. 

It had taken him months to kiss her, months after that to ask her about sex. 

Bucky was not from this era, how could he be expected to understand her? Understand this part of her? 

But he had, where the woman inside the club hadn’t even tried. 

“I don’t want you do anything you don’t want to,” Bucky said, licking his lips nervously. “I never want to make you uncomfortable.” 

The fact that he asked, that he was worried at all soothed her. No one else had ever cared enough to ask, to reassure her, to make sure she would always be comfortable too. “I don’t hate it…I just don’t feel a need. I want to, if you want to. It makes me happy to make you happy.”

And it had, and it does. 

She could enjoy it, she just didn’t feel the need, the want.

She enjoyed it just fine once it was initiated, but mostly because the person she was with liked it so much. 

She liked kissing much better, liked cuddling, liked the feel of skin against skin, the warmth and comfort of another presence. 

The remembrance of Bucky waiting for her all those months ago, only makes his absence now more keenly felt, even though he’d not accompanied her home in months. Not since she assured him that she would be okay, that his waiting for her made her feel a loss of autonomy, like her skin did not belong to her.

And so, he had relented, let her download a walk home app, though his worry had been renewed the day she met Yelena. The club smashed to pieces, a knife nearly lodged in her side. She had pointed out to Bucky’s great chagrin that the near death experience had not occurred on her walk. 

Y/N’s  independence is important to her, but her safety is important to Bucky. Now, she wonders if her rejection of his presence pushed him away. 

Did she push people away? 

She shoves away from the wall, hoping that the dancers rip Lisa apart as she walks to the subway station. 

The ride is short but only makes her heart pound harder, watching the late night revelers sway with the rock of the train. Usually, it would make her smile. But tonight as she watches couples flirt and laugh, she feels empty.

It only reminds her of the missing thing inside her, the want that she’s told should be there.

Maybe that missing thing will be enough to drive away the people she cares about most.  

~

The apartment is dark. 

She doesn’t turn on the lights, creeps through the living room on silent feet. In the bathroom, she avoids her reflection, avoids thinking about herself at all as she strips off her club clothes and climbs in the shower. 

Once she towels off and changes, she crosses the hall to slip into bed behind Bucky, who’s normally closest to the door, a protector against the night. 

But when she pushes the door open, she can’t seem to bring herself to step over the threshold. 

They’re curled together. She can see the blonde of Yelena’s hair over the curve of Bucky’s shoulder. Their breathing is steady and even. There’s a space for her, very deliberately left. She aches to fall into it, to press her forehead against Bucky’s back and curl her arm around his side to clutch at Yelena’s fingers. 

Instead, she closes the door, picks up a blanket from the end of the couch, and lays down there instead.

Her skin feels empty, but she tells herself it’s better than feeling too much. 

~

She’s woken by the stroke of fingers against her arm, the top of her shoulder, and then the dip of her collarbone. 

“Did you fall asleep here?” Comes the gentle accented words of Yelena. “That was very stupid of you. You know to come right to bed.” 

She blinks her eyes open, blurry vision taking a moment to clear. 

Yelena’s face is free of makeup, her long hair loose around her shoulders. She reaches out to pinch a piece between her fingers, tugging gently on the strand. “No. You looked too peaceful to disturb.” 

Yelena’s brow furrows, she shoves Y/N’s shoulder. “No. You do not disturb us. Never.” 

She tries not to feel the acid in her stomach curl at the word us. An us she suddenly feels she’s not a part of. “Okay,” she says simply instead, sitting up to take Yelena’s hand between her own. Her gaze is still hard, penetrating, like she can see to the center of her. Yelena opens her mouth but Y/N quickly cuts her off. “Where’s Buck?”

“Sleeping still.” She keeps peering at her, like she could read her thoughts if she looked hard enough. “What’s wrong?” 

She tries to look surprised, but by the way Yelena rolls her eyes it’s a poor attempt. “Nothing, Lena,” she says, lifting her hand to press a kiss to her palm. 

“If you are going to lie, at least be good at it,” she says but doesn’t press further. “No more sleeping on the couch.” Yelena stands and crosses to the kitchen. “Come help me make an American breakfast. I want the whole thing today.” 

“Should we make mimosas too?” 

“Of course,” she shrugs in that very particular Yelena way, with the lift of her shoulders and purse of her lips, brows sneaking up her forehead. 

Y/N feels a pulse of love spike within her, telling her to forget the emotional wariness that Lisa’s questions had inspired. She stands from the couch, stretching before she folds the blanket back into its spot over the sofa’s arm. 

When she turns toward the kitchen, Yelena is eyeing her again. 

Sometimes she hates living with two former spies. They miss nothing. 

She smiles, walking toward the counter where Yelena is cracking eggs into a bowl. She knows that she’s still suspicious by the way she watches her. 

Thankfully she doesn’t say anything else and they fall into an easy routine. 

An hour later they have a complete spread before them, pancakes, eggs and toast, sliced fruit, avocados, bacon and sausage. 

If there was one thing she adored about Yelena it was her tendency to overindulge, filling up all the gaps inside her with things she wanted, missed out on, and wanted to try. 

It led to mornings like these, where they were already tipsy by the time the food finished cooking, where she grips Y/N’s hips and pats flour onto her cheek. 

“Next time you will make biscuits and gravy for me,” she says, pushing her back into the counter, hands cupping around Y/N’s wrists where she braces her hands against the stone. “I have not gotten to try them yet.”

She leans forward and pushes her nose into Yelena’s cheek, “Sure.”

Yelena pulls away to raise her arms above her head and wiggle on the spot, smiling. 

It makes Y/N smile, eases the worries and insecurities swirling around inside her. 

They’re just settling down at the breakfast table laden with food when the bedroom door opens and Bucky emerges, scrubbing sand from his eyes before he takes in the spread. “Hungry this morning?” he asks, voice gruff with sleep and amusement. 

Bucky stops by the table, kissing the side of Yelena’s head. She waves him away, “Ah, stop that. Get a plate.” 

He sends her a gentle smile and moves off to get the plate. 

She tries not to let her heart sink, tries to remember if he’s always missed her at breakfast, had always only given a kiss to Yelena. Bucky knows she likes greeting kisses, enjoys them in fact. 

She keeps her expression carefully neutral, her eyes turned down, as all the light she’d felt cooking with Yelena drifts away. 

A foot kicks at her ankle under the table. 

“James,” Yelena says. “Something is wrong with your girl. She won’t tell me what. She did not come to bed with us.” She loves the way Yelena’s accent sounds when she says the word girl, rounds out the syllables until they're soft and malleable and warm. 

The warmth is slighting undercut by being called Bucky’s girl, like she’s being siphoned off onto someone else, like she’s not also Yelena’s. 

Bucky turns from the cabinet, plate in hand, watching her carefully. “Why didn’t you, doll?” 

Had he even noticed? Would he have brought it up if Yelena hadn’t? 

Something like shame wells up inside her. For overthinking everything over comments made by someone who did not know her, who did not know her people. Y/N wants to lie all the anxieties eating at the inside of her skin at their feet and let them reassure her, but she worries that she’ll see pity instead and everything bad in her mind will be confirmed. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” she says quietly instead.  

Bucky is looking at her closely now too, but he’s not as good at reading her as Yelena is and so he just frowns.

He sits down at that small, worn kitchen table and peers at her. So she swallows and lifts her head, “Nothing is wrong. I really just didn’t want to disturb you. There wasn't any room anyways.” 

“Liar,” Yelena says into her glass, slouched back in her chair, not looking at her. 

“Prove it,” she snips back.  

“So shove us over next time,” Bucky mediates. 

And that dreaded us is back. Us versus her. She feels like an outsider all of a sudden. How did she ever expect to be equal among them when she did not participate equally in the relationship? 

All she can see now is how complete they are with each other, how utterly unnecessary she is.

She tries to stop the thoughts, tries to derail the things making her second guess everything about them, all of the other differences she’d always ignored, told herself didn’t matter. 

It wasn’t only about sex, though that was a big part of it. 

They share life experiences that she will never know, that she will never be able to relate to. Between being literal super people and former assassins, they also bonded through the recent loss of the most important people in their lives. The grief and turmoil they worked through everyday, how could she ever hope to understand, to compare? 

They match and she does not. 

In so many ways, she does not belong. 

When did that happen? When did they stop fitting together?

Have they ever? Was she that oblivious to everything? 

“See she keeps making that face,” Yelena says, not even looking at her as she digs for a stray piece of fruit at the bottom of her mimosa glass with one finger. “Like someone has just punched her.” 

She swallows and tries to control her face, tries not to let the hurt well up into her eyes. 

Bucky reaches out gently, always so gentle, like a giant in a model village. He touches the inside of her wrist, leans forward to lift her hand and press a kiss to her pulse point. 

It makes her want to cry, reminds her of their first couple months together where everything was shy and newly strange in the best way. When she thought everything would work out because Bucky was so old fashioned and slow with romance, that all he had to do was ask her for what he needed and she would be glad to give it. “Sweetheart, tell Yelena what happened so she can beat up whoever hurt you.” 

“Someone has hurt you?” Comes the indignant response immediately. Yelena slams her glass into the table with enough force to crack it.

“No,” she says immediately before Yelena can barrel out the front door and stab the first person she sees. Y/N turns Bucky’s hand in hers to squeeze his fingers. “Really everything is fine. I’m just feeling a bit off.” 

Yelena shoulders loosen and she slouches back down into her chair but you notice the knife in her hand that she had indeed snatched up off the table. Like she really would go fight someone with a dull kitchen blade.

She holds out her hand for it and Yelena reluctantly drops it into her hand. “You would tell me if someone has hurt you?” 

“Yes.”

Yelena relaxes at that. 

Bucky chuckles, lets go of Y/N’s wrist to load up his plate with food. 

She only picks at the food on her own plate, regretting the mimosa already as her stomach tightens and curdles around it. 

Before last night, she would have watched Yelena and Bucky with affection, how he turned toward her fully when she was talking, how they gravitated together, the gentle way Bucky laughed when Yelena exaggeratedly told a story. 

She didn’t feel jealous. 

No, she felt abandoned though everything is still the same, like a ship had sailed without her and she’d been so stupid that she hadn’t even realized it, standing on a shore with an empty horizon. She feels more than stupid, like she’s standing on the shore and the ship had sailed away months before. 

When breakfast is over and Yelena disappears to get dressed, something about meeting up with Kate, which likely just meant breaking into Kate’s place to scare the shit out of her, Bucky helps Y/N with the dishes. 

He leans into her, presses a kiss to her temple. “Whatever it is, we’re here for you.” He nudges his nose against her temple until she looks into his eyes. 

Her heart gives a painful thump as she bumps her forehead against his shoulder. “Bucky, it’s really nothing. I’m just in my head about something.”

“I’m in my own head all the time too. ‘M here if you need me.” 

She smiles, feels just a bit lighter at the way he presses close to her side, keeps contact with her like it gives him strength. 

Yelena passes them on her way out the door, her fingers hooking into Y/N’s  pajama shorts to press a hard kiss against her mouth before she smiles and disappears, Kate’s bow slung over one shoulder and a baseball bat in her hands.

Bucky drops a kiss to her hair, and Y/N watches her lean up into it. 

It makes Y/N smile, and the slam of the front door is almost comforting, the sounds of home. 

Where Bucky is all gentleness with her, Yelena is aggressive, like she wouldn’t always be able to give her love, so she gave it as forcefully as she could while she was allowed. 

But she can’t chase those stupid words away. 

What did they need a third for? Wasn’t she just complicating things for two people who deserved simplicity?

Even though she and Bucky had been together before Yelena came into their lives with the force of a hurricane, maybe she was only ever supposed to serve as the glue that stuck them together. 

She can’t help but feel like she was now the pulled stitch, the last piece of the puzzle that suddenly did not fit.

They would be better together without her, their relationship would certainly be easier. 

~

She avoids the pair of them all week, lucky that her schedule at work kept her away, that Bucky was busy with Sam in Louisiana for a few days, that Yelena was preoccupied with whatever she and Kate were up to, then liberating one the the widows who happened to be in New York. 

But they notice the change in her, because of course they do. She tries to act as normally as possible but Bucky and Yelena notice almost everything, even the slightest difference is something monumental to them. 

They notice that she sleeps on the couch, that she smiles only when necessary, that she’s melancholy, though she tries not to show it. 

Spies. They tend to know more than anyone wants them to. 

Yelena goes so far as to show up at the club, glitter framing her eyes, lips painted red, neon lights dancing around her head as she approaches the bar with a knife in her hand. “Who?”

“What?” 

“Who is hurting you? Who makes you so sad?”

She has to swallow back the burn in her throat as she lies to her, “Yelena, honey, nothing, no one.” She’s grateful that Lisa isn’t working though she’s never brought up the subject of her relationship again. Nicole likely threatened her. “Everything is fine.” 

The look in her eyes says she does not believe her, that she will fight whatever has made the minute changes in you.

“Solntse,” she says. “You know I would kill everyone here for you, yes?” 

She nods and Yelena nods back. 

“You don’t have to be sad alone,” Yelena says, “You taught me this. Remember?”

She had, when the force of her grief for Natasha had almost drug her under. 

Again, she nods, her throat so tight she can’t speak.

“I will leave you now,” she says, watching the other bartender struggle to help all the customers. “Bucky will walk you home. You will sleep with us tonight.” 

She opens her mouth to protest, but Yelena waves the knife at her, catching the attention of one of the bouncers. “No. This is happening.” 

And before she can get a word in, she blinks and Yelena is gone, slipping away so easily that the bouncer looks confused too. 

Sure enough when she leaves the club that night, Bucky is waiting for her at the corner, like he used to every single night. 

He falls into step beside her and wraps her fingers between his own. 

“Mind if we walk or do you want to take the train?”

“We can walk.” 

And so they do, silence stretching between them. It reminds her of the worries stirring inside her, that she’s let fester for the last week. She’d thought that they would ease over time but she had not stopped worrying.  

That she would never be enough, for anyone. 

Maybe for a time, but never for forever.

Bucky is the one to break the silence as they approach their apartment building. “Lena wants to have a movie night. She has the movie picked out.” He pulls her to a stop in front of their stoop, cups her jaw in his hand. “You haven’t been yourself lately. We’re worried about you.” 

She swallows but doesn’t look away from him. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to get over it.” 

“Y’don’t have to do it alone, y’know? We’re here.” 

She turns her head and kisses his palm gently. “I know.”

Bucky nods but looks worried.

When they reach the apartment and Bucky throws open the door, they find Yelena already tucked on the couch, blankets spread over her legs, a big bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. “Heeeey!” she says, dragging out the word and smiling as she excitedly points at the TV. “Movie night! Since you love this couch so much,” she snarks. “Sleeping on it all the time now.” 

Bucky shucks off his jacket as he crosses the room, settling on the sofa and slinging one arm over the back. 

They’re both looking at her now, waiting for her to come inside, close the front door. 

But she suddenly can’t find it in herself to move. 

She stands there like an idiot, watching the pair of them, how Bucky reaches out and presses the tips of his fingers into Yelena’s shoulder, and she can’t imagine how she’s supposed to fit between them on the couch even though they’ve left a clear space for her between them. 

Yelena says her name. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, stepping inside, closing the door gently. “Sorry I’ve been so weird lately. But I’ve been thinking and -,” She looks away from them, down at her toes. “I-,”

“Are you leaving?

The question is asked so gently, softly. 

But Yelena’s voice is hard steel underneath and so Y/N knows that means she’s breaking on the inside. She knows if she looks up Yelena will have that pouted mask of indifference in place. She knows that Bucky’s eyes will be wide, his shoulders stiff. 

Neither of them, for all their training, could hide anything they felt. 

“No,” she says quietly. “I don’t - I’m worried I’m…” she hesitates and then decides to come out with it. “I don’t want to.”

“Then don’t,” comes the fierce reply. “Stop being stupid and sit down.” 

Bucky shifts forward on the couch, “Doll, tell us what’s bothering you.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to break up with me,” she admits suddenly. “Are we happy? Do we work together? I thought we did. I was happy. But -,” she paces, can’t look at them still. “Then I had to explain to someone what being ace means and how it’s different for everyone and then she asked…what’s the point? And I have to ask you that too because I can’t stop thinking about it. What’s the point?”

Silence stretches between them when she finally stops talking. Painful and loud.

The anxiousness that’s been drumming at the inside of her chest all week threatens to burst out of her. 

“Point of what?” Bucky breaks the silence, the timber of his voice crush, weighed down. “Us?”

“No.” She looks up, shakes her head violently, “No. No, not you. I - I love both of you. What’s the point of me? I can’t - maybe I won’t ever be able to put as much into this relationship and maybe it’s selfish of me to ask you to accept that about me. If you need more. And…if you’re happy together and you can meet all of each other's needs then why -,” She swallows and continues even when her voice breaks, “Why do you need me?”

When neither of them answers, she panics, the yawning blackhole of insecurity swallowing her up.  “And I’ve been feeling lately like maybe I was just meant to bring you together. There’s so much the two of you share that I won’t ever be able to understand. Maybe I don’t belong.”

She presses her lips together then to avoid saying more, to avoid sounding even more pathetic than she already did. 

Y/N closes her eyes and leans back against the closed front door, counting backwards from ten, crossing her arms over her chest to keep her ribs from coming undone at the seams. 

“Who made you believe this?” Yelena asks, her voice angry. “I need to know so I can kill them.” When she’s upset her accent deepens, and Y/N imagines the scrunch between her brows but can’t bring herself to open her eyes. 

Something touches her shoulder and she nearly jumps out of her skin. But it's just Bucky, who has stood and drifted over on silent feet. 

“Who?” He asks and there’s a quiet anger in his voice. 

She lets him untuck her arms and guide her to the couch. 

Yelena doesn’t touch her, just sits forward and stares and waits. 

“It doesn’t matter who. She didn’t say anything that isn’t kind of true.” 

“So you believe this is true? You want to take my home and family away from me again because of this? Because of lies from a stranger?”

She shakes her head, “No, Lena, of course not. Of course, I wouldn’t abandon you. I just have to know if this dynamic is right.” 

Bucky squeezes her fingers, heads off Yelena’s fiercely building energy, “‘s not true, Y/N. What this person said isn’t true.” 

“No,” Yelena says, her voice still harsh, but she takes Y/N’s other hand and her grip is gentle. “It is not.” 

She feels so stupid in that moment, her neck and face warm, the people she desperately loves holding either of her hands.

Yelena scoffs, “You will tell me who.” 

“No,” she says, knowing that would literally put someone’s life at stake. 

Bucky takes a gentler path, as is his habit with her. His heart is loyal and soft and breakable. She has to wonder if she’s the one to have broken it now. 

“Remember when you first told me you were ace?” He asks, his thumb stroking slowly over the back of her hand. Yelena’s shoulders drop next to Y/N, and she knows there’s some form of silent communication going on above her head as the pair of them look at each other. 

“Yes-,”

“And I told you that it didn’t matter to me,” he continues. “Yelena said the same thing when we told her, remember?” Bucky waits for her to nod before he continues, “Did we do something to make you think that wasn’t true?” 

“Of course not-,”

“Because honey, this works because of you. You make us complete.” She feels Bucky tangle his fingers with Yelena’s, their hands pressing along the curve of Y/N’s spine. “You belong with us. You give us everything we need. Sex? That isn’t why ‘m here. That isn’t why we're together.”

Yelena is nodding, her head against Y/N’s shoulder. “It is because I love you. We love you.” She shrugs against her, “You give us everything anyways. You always give everything you have. More than that. And its not like I have a high sex drive either.” 

And she knows that’s true. 

Yelena rarely brought sex up. 

Bucky was usually the one to do it, and he preferred it that way, liked the control it gave him over his life. He’d made a point to always tell both of them what he needed, when he needed it.  

She’s quiet for a moment just breathing and letting herself absorb the heat of both of them, letting herself absorb the truths being given to her. “I just don’t want you to miss anything. Or feel like you aren’t getting everything you need. I want to be a part of you.” 

Yelena laughs suddenly, turning her head to press her forehead into Y/N’s arm, nuzzling against her with her eyes closed. “We would be fucking miserable if it was only the two of us.” Yelena is laughing, she can feel her smiling against her arm, “Our life experience makes both of us bitter bitches. We would be miserable without you.” 

Y/N tries not to smile, because it was true. 

Bucky pokes the corner of her mouth. “We get everything we need. Even if we never had sex, we get everything we need. And sweetheart? What's the point? God, the point is that I fucking love you. That you are everything I’ve ever needed and you understood me when no one else was trying to.”

Yelena is nodding again, her fingers gripping Y/N’s. “You make us better people,” she says quietly. “You take care of us. You tell us all we have to do is ask for anything we need and you will give it. And you do. Anything. You give everything.” She pushes her back until her back is pressed against Bucky’s chest, his arms automatically wrapping around her. 

Yelena slips forward, curling into her embrace. She’s overwhelmed by their presence, by their renewed acceptance. Bucky holds both her hands while Yelena tips her face up to kiss her carefully. 

She wants to cry for being so lucky. She cups Yelena’s jaw, kissing her back with the fierceness she knows the other woman craves.  

It had never been this easy before, with anyone else, of someone saying, I see you and it's okay. I love you as you are. You are enough. 

“I’m not broken,” she says out loud, because it's important in that moment. “I won’t change.” 

“We know, solntse.” 

“I’m sorry,” she says. 

“We know that too.”

Bucky kisses the side of Y/N’s head, let’s Yelena lean up and kiss him before he asks, “Now, who made you believe you were?”

She sighs, brushing a strand of Yelena’s hair behind her ear. “I’m not telling you. It would put that person in serious danger. I’m pretty sure Nicole kicked her ass already anyways.” 

“Remind me to buy Nicole some flowers. We can invite her for dinner and she can tell us.”

Lucky, she thinks again, so lucky, to have found two people who so completely understood her, who accepted her without question. Two people, who only asked for what she was comfortable to give. 

Yelena fits herself against Y/N, tucking her head under her chin while Bucky wraps his arms around both of them. 

“What movie did you want to watch, Lena?” She asks, curling her hair around a finger, touching the corner of her jaw. 

Yelena looks up, her eyes going to Bucky and then back to Y/N, “You pick.” She settles back down against her. 

So she clicks on something random on Netflix and calls it good enough, knows none of them will be watching it anyways.

She pets Yelena’s hair, feels Bucky’s fingers against her arm, occasionally twitching out to touch the top of Yelena’s head. 

“It was Lisa wasn’t it?”

She sighs and Yelena laughs, knowing she guessed correctly. “I’m going to hide the knives.” 

“Like I need a knife.” 

“Don’t kill her.” 

“Ah, no, of course not,” she says, shrugging. “Maim, maybe a little.”

Control Me

Pairing: Natasha x reader

Summary: You wanted to help Natasha gain back control so you let her control you

Warning: 18+ smut, restraints, face slapping, finger fucking, oral, dom/sub ish - Reader and Nats first time

A/n: This wasn't supposed to be smut, but it turned into smut *shrugs*

I didn’t have much time to edit so hope there aren’t too many mistakes

3,964 words | Masterlist

——————————————————————————

When you met Natasha you thought you had her all figured out. She was confidence personified walking around the compound as if nothing could touch her. It wasn’t until the two of you became close that she started to show more of herself. Her playful side was your favorite.

The team was shocked the first time they saw Natasha hug you. She wasn’t known to be a cuddly person but you knew the truth. Natasha loved to cuddle. When she felt distressed or frustrated, she would come to your room, crawl into your bed and hold you. The first time it happened you thought it was a dream. When you asked her if she was ok, she simply nodded and confessed that you made her feel safe. You could relate, she made you feel safe too.

You were currently in the common room when Natasha came through the elevator looking the most exhausted you’ve ever seen her. She had been away for a week on a mission with Steve and by the grunt he gave you as a greeting, you knew it must have been physically and emotionally exhausting.

The redhead could barely keep her eyes open as she waddled over to you and collapsed on the couch, planting her head in your lap.

“That bad huh?” You asked Steve.

“Longest mission of my life.” He mumbled, “You got her?”

“Always.” You said, caressing her back.

You let her sleep while you finished your movie, turning it down to the lowest volume so you wouldn’t disturb her. Her soft snores made you grin knowing she would deny them once you teased her about it.

“Nat.” You whispered, lightly nudging her as the credits rolled.

She grunted, burying her face in your stomach.

“Five more minutes, milaya.”

“It’s been an hour, love. I know you would rather be in bed. Unless you want Thor waking you up at five am.”

She looked up at you pouting knowing you were right. You wiped away loose strands of hair as they tickled her nose and tucked them gently behind her ear.

“Can you stay with me?” She asked.

“I wish I could, but I have to be up by five too. You need to rest.”

“I don’t care.” She said, sighing.

“You’re a light sleeper, Nat. You’ll stay up with me and feel grouchy all day.” You chuckled.

“You’re right, you’re right.”

Natasha pulled herself up and stretched her aching muscles. Dirt and grime painted her neck and arms, and dry streaks of blood mapped her torso.

“Maybe take a shower before bed yeah?” You teased.

She scoffed nudging your shoulder but swiftly smelled herself groaning.

“I’m taking a vacation.” She grumbled.

You went your separate ways once you reached your floor. Natasha gave you a hug goodnight and you settled into bed. You wished you would have said yes to staying with her but you knew it was the right thing to do. When the redhead didn’t get proper sleep it was dangerous for everyone around. The last time it happened, Thor almost needed a new cloak and Tony a new pair of hands.

The night went on and you found yourself unable to sleep. It was hard when she wasn't next to you. You haven’t gotten much sleep when she was away when you think about it. You checked the clock groaning when you saw it was one am. Training day was the worst to wake up to. You shifted trying to get comfortable when suddenly you heard a bloodcurdling scream.

A chill ran down your spine as you rushed to Natasha’s room. What you saw when you opened the door broke your heart. You’ve seen her vulnerable but you’ve never seen her look so fragile. She was shaking, beads of sweat dripped down her forehead as she clung her knees to her chest rocking back and forth. She hadn’t noticed you yet and you treaded lightly so you wouldn’t alarm her. Her eyes were wide and barely blinking as she stared at the wall. Her bottom lip quivered as silent tears ran down her cheeks.

You felt guilty that you hadn’t stayed with her like she asked. From what you’ve seen in the past, her nightmares were bad but this one was different. You’ve never heard her scream like that before.

“Nat.” You whispered, sitting slowly on the edge of the bed.

Your worry grew as she continued to stare at the wall. Natasha was always aware of her surroundings. The fact that she still hadn’t noticed you let you know she was still trapped in her mind.

You slowly rubbed her back, knowing it was something she liked when she was upset. She visibly started to shake and your heart ached in your chest. Your strokes became firm as you guided her back into reality.

“Natasha, it’s alright. It’s ok, you’re safe.”

Her green eyes snapped to yours and she jerked away from you. She shook her head as she ran it through her damp hair.

“What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.” She stammered.

“I heard you scream. I just wanted to see if you were ok.”

“I’m fine.” She said, looking away from you.

You sighed moving closer to her. It was rare that she ever shut you out, but when she tried it was usually about her past. It took her a long time to open up to you about it, but even when she did she didn’t say much. Only enough for you to understand the horrors she faced there.

“You’re not fine and that’s ok.”

She licked her lips standing up from the bed, turning her back from you to take off her damp shirt. Her hands were shaking as she shuffled through her dresser to find a new one and put it on.

“I don’t want you to see me like this.” She choked out.

“We’re best friends Nat. I think we’re past that.” You said, trying to reassure her.

She turned around, folding her arms and silent tears fell from her eyes. You’d give anything to make them go away. To make her feel better.

“Talk to me please.” You pleaded.

A storm swam inside her eyes as she looked at you. Your breath hitched only ever seeing them this way when she faced an enemy.

“I had a nightmare - about the red room.” She said, chewing her bottom lip, “how they would make us do certain things in training.”

You pushed past the anger you felt. This wasn’t about you, but you silently vowed to destroy that place when given the chance.

“Was it about the other girls? How they made you-

“No.”

You shifted on the bed, swimming through your mind trying to figure it out. Widows were known for two things, death and seduction. It suddenly clicked and your stomach twisted in knots knowing what it had to be about.

“It’s ok, Nat. I understand.” You whispered.

Her eyes narrowed and she stalked towards you.

“Do you?” She demanded.

“I know you Nat, you hate not being in control. What they made you do with those men-,” You paused taking a beat as her eyes shone with aching vulnerability as the storm subsided. You didn’t need words for her to know you figured it out, “That’s when you felt the most out of control, isn’t it?”

She nodded, wiping away her tears.

“I hate that it affects me this much. It’s just a dream but it’s like I’m back there, underneath them.” She whimpered.

“Come here.”

Natasha took a deep breath, walking closer to you. You held out your hands and you sighed in relief as she unclenched her fists and rested them in yours.

“What do you usually do when you wake up from them? How do you gain the feeling of control back?” You asked.

She shrugged, looking at your paired hands.

“Before I met you I’d usually wait until it passes.” She said, “It takes a while then they feel this real.”

“Holding me helps?” You asked.

“Yes. It- It doesn’t take away the feeling entirely but yes, having you in my arms helps.”

You squeezed her hands rubbing the back of them. Natasha was the most important person in your life and all you wanted was for her to be ok. You had an idea but you weren’t sure how to suggest it. You were lost in thought not noticing how Natasha stared at you, searching for what could possibly be on your mind.

“What is it, Y/n?”

“I - um, I have an idea, but it might be too weird-

“Tell me, please?” She asked.

Her eyes pleaded for anything to help make it better. You nodded, shifting at the anxious bloom that arose in your chest.

“You could control me.” You whispered.

Natasha’s breath hitched and your heart hammered in your chest as you watched her process your words.

“You mean dominate you?” She asked, her lips were parted and you shifted on the bed.

“Yes. I - I was reading this book on bdsm-“

Her snort interrupted you and you narrowed your eyes feeling embarrassed.

“Shut up.” You mumbled.

“I’m sorry, dorogaya. Continue, please.”

You smiled shyly, clearing your throat.

“There was a chapter that talked about how it can be akin to therapy. That it can help people who feel out of control in their workplace or life in general, gain some of the control back. Same for someone who's always in control, it can be a release for them to give it away.”

Natasha took in your words, really thinking about what you said. You swallowed thickly watching emotions play out on her face and you started to think you shouldn’t have said anything.

“Ok.”

You blinked, staring up at her not knowing if you heard her right.

“Ok?”

“I want to try it.” She said.

The flush on her cheeks made your heart flip in your chest.

“Ok.” You whispered.

“Alright, I um - please tell me if it’s too much or you change your mind.” She mumbled, and you could see insecurity swimming in her irises.

“I promise, Nat. I trust you.”

You looked at her openly wanting her to see that you were really ok with this. She nodded sharply and you let go of her hands.

You sat and waited, watching as she flexed her jaw and licked her lips. You would have waited all night as she processed. This was about her. You would let her go at whatever pace she wanted.

“Take off your shirt.” She husked.

You swallowed thickly, taking it off, and shivered as the cool air raised goosebumps on your skin. You were left in only your underwear and you blushed as she took in the white cotton topped with a pink bow.

“Lay back on the bed.”

You did what she said, your breathing shallow as you watched her eyes change. They were hard and focused as they raked over you.

“Hands above your head, and don’t make a sound. If you do I’ll stop.”

You nodded, squirming as she grabbed a piece of rope from her closet. She tied you to the bedpost and tugged making sure you were secure. You pulled at them, a twisting feeling in your groin arose at how vulnerable you were for her.

The bed dipped as she crawled on top of you and you gasped seeing arousal in her eyes.

“What did I say.” She growled, smacking your thigh.

You bit your lip to stop from whimpering and tried to show on your face that you were sorry.

Her calloused hand traced up your thigh making you shiver. She stopped at the fabric of your underwear, pulling it away from you only to let it go with a snap. She traced up your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps, and cupped your breast roughly in her hands. You felt heat between your legs as she squeezed the soft tissue, humming as you tried desperately not to make a sound.

Her eyes stayed on yours as she pinched and pulled your nipple, already hardened by the chill of the air and her previous touch. Your mouth opened, no sound escaping as she added more pressure before lifting her hand to wrap it around your throat.

“You’re being so good for me.” She cooed.

You licked your lips, watching as she traced the movement with her eyes.

“You like being a good girl for me?” She asked.

You nodded, squirming underneath her. All you wanted was to help her gain back control but you had no idea it would feel like this giving it away.

She raised her body, hovering over you. The fabric of her shirt made you shiver as it scraped against your overheated skin. She ran her free hand up your thigh cupping your center.

“You’re so wet for me, detka.” She husked, pushing the fabric to the side.

You bit down on your lip, knowing by the end of this you were bound to draw blood.

The weight of her hand left your throat and in one swift movement, she ripped the fabric off of you, tossing it to the side.

Her hand returned to your throat and she increased the pressure as she traced your slit up and down collecting your wetness on her fingers. She ignored your clit and you wanted to beg her so badly to touch it.

“What is it, pretty girl?” She cooed.

You clenched your thighs as she teased your opening. You bucked into her, your walls clenching when she grazed your clit.

“Hmmm. Is this what you want?”

Her thumb pressed into your sensitive nub, circling around it in slow languid circles. You closed your eyes nodding when she pushed down adding more pressure.

“Look at me.” She demanded.

You opened your eyes, your mouth open wide as she quickened her pace.

“You want me to fuck you, detka?”

You would have screamed yes if it were allowed. The way she was making you feel made your head spin.

“I bet you do. You like being tied down underneath me. That’s what made you so wet isn’t it?”

Her moan took your breath away as she pushed past your barrier with her finger. You moved your hips against her and tried desperately not to make a sound.

“Look at you fucking yourself on me. I never took you for a whore, Y/n.”

A whimper ripped from your throat before you could stop it.

Natasha glared down at you, removing her hand from your throat to swiftly slap your cheek. Her face was hard and intimidating as her gaze burned into you.

“You get one more chance. Do you understand me?”

You nodded frantically, thankful she wasn’t going to stop.

“Good girl.” She taunted, adding another finger.

Your walls clenched around them, trying to suck them in deeper.

“You’re so tight.” She moaned.

You threw your head back, clenching your hands into fists as she started fucking them inside you. She didn’t hold back as she pounded into you. Your breast bounced and the bed creaked with every thrust she made.

“You feel so good.”

You wanted to tell her that she did too. The heel of her hand pressed against your clit and you lifted your hips meeting her thrust for thrust. She fucked you like she knew exactly what you liked and she felt better than any toy you’ve ever used.

“You’re doing so well, detka. So good for me.”

Natasha watched as tears sprang from your eyes as you tried desperately to be quiet for her. She curled her fingers feeling your walls flutter around her and she knew you were close. The feeling she had fucking you like this was unlike anything she’s ever felt.

“Look at me.” She demanded.

Your eyes snapped to hers and your hips stuttered as her thumb flicked your clit. You tasted iron as your teeth clamped down on your bottom lip.

“You’re so close aren’t you.” She cooed.

You pleaded with her in your eyes, nodding as she curled her fingers again, hitting the spot that would normally make you cry out.

“You don’t get to cum until I tell you to.” She sneered, “but I want to hear you beg for it.”

You opened your mouth then closed it shut, afraid that she would stop even as she said those words.

“It’s ok, detka. Let me hear those pretty sounds. I want you to beg for me to let you cum like the good little slut you are.”

You moaned, relieved you no longer had to hold it in.

“Please Nat, please let me cum, you feel so good, please.” You choked out.

Natasha moaned, fucking you harder as sighs and whimpers fell from your lips.

“Do you think you deserve it?” She taunted.

“Yes.” You whimpered.

“I don’t know, pretty girl. You’ve disobeyed me twice already.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I’ll be so good for you, please let me cum.”

You felt your walls clench around her as the words fell from your lips. You’ve never been this turned on before.

“You’re so sweet, dorogaya,” she said, smirking down at you, “so pretty when you beg.”

You lost rhythm in your hips, feeling the coil inside you tighten. You desperately wanted to cum for her. You were dripping down her hand, the sound of how wet you were filled the air making blood rush to your cheeks.

“Please, Nat.” You whimpered.

“Ok detka. Be my good girl and cum for me.” She demanded.

You screamed her name as your body came at her command. The euphoria you felt was borderline overwhelming as your orgasm crashed down on you. Your walls clamped down and fluttered around her fingers trying to suck them in more as she slowed her pace. You whimpered as she removed her hand from your throat to caress your cheek.

Natasha smiled down at you as she pulled out her fingers and sucked them in her mouth moaning at your taste. You blushed, as she licked them clean.

“Delicious, detka.” She said.

She removed her shorts and underwear in one go and you drooled at the sight of her. You could see her slick on her thighs and you couldn’t believe you were the cause of it.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

You whimpered, doing what you were told.

She shifted above you, placing her thighs on either side of your head. You moaned at the sight of her parting lips as her wetness dripped on your chin.

“You made a mess, detka. Clean it up.”

Her hips lowered and you moaned as her center lowered onto your mouth. Her taste was tangy and uniquely hers as you ran your tongue up and down her parted folds. You circled around her clit, moaning as you sucked it into your mouth lathing it with your tongue.

“Fuck Y/n!.”

You tugged your wrist wanting to touch her and whimpered when they met the resistance of the rope.

“You want to touch me don’t you?” She teased.

You nodded as she chuckled darkly above you.

“That slutty little mouth of yours is touching me detka.” She moaned.

You whimpered, letting go of her clit grazing it between your teeth. You lowered your tongue to her opening, teasing it as she thrust down against it. She looked down at you, grabbing ahold of your head as she narrowed her eyes.

“Inside.”

You pried her open with your tongue, whimpering as she sunk down on you. You curled it, wanting to feel as much of her you could and Natasha cried out, bucking against you.

“So good, detka.” She moaned, rolling her hips.

You shuddered as she used you to get off. Fucking your face with abandon as her free hand held onto the bed frame. Her walls were tight against your tongue and you knew she was going to cum. Her whimpers and moans made you clench your thighs. You wanted to hear these sounds for the rest of your life.

“Fuck, fuck, Y/n!”

Her hips stuttered and her slick dripped down your cheeks and chin as she came around your tongue. Her hips slowed dragging out her high and you licked every drop you could as she rubbed herself all over your face. When her movements stop, she grunted lifting off of you and shifted down to straddle your hips.

You knew you were smiling like an idiot when her jaw twitched to stop her from smiling back.

She leaned over untying you from the bed and you sighed as blood rushed back to your aching limbs.

“Are they sore, dorogaya?” She asked, rubbing them.

“Only a little, but not a lot.” You mumbled, shyly.

Natasha kissed your forehead and lifted off you, disappearing into the bathroom. You blushed when she came back with a wet towel. It was warm as she traced it against your face and body cleaning you up. She was so attentive it made your heart flutter in your chest. You whimpered as she parted your folds, still sensitive from how hard she fucked you.

“Shh, you’re ok, kotenok.”

Your blush deepened at the nickname she gave you shortly after the two of you met.

“There, all clean.” She whispered.

She threw the towel to the side of the room and laid down beside you cupping your cheek. Her eyes were soft as she looked at you. All the pain from before was completely washed away and you melted at her smile.

“It helped?” You whispered.

“Better than I imagined. Was that ok for you too? I didn’t do anything that made you unconformable did I?”

“No. It was nice.” You said, licking your sore lip.

“Nice?” She teased.

“I - it. It was good, Nat. Really good, but I didn’t want it to be about me.”

“It was about the both of us, detka. You’re the most important person in my life. I know that this was to help me gain back control and it did, but during I just really wanted to make you feel good. Like it felt for me.”

“I didn’t know it would feel like that.” You said.

“Neither did I. I thought I was going to cum just making you cum. Hearing you beg was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

You blushed, trying to duck your head into the pillow but her hand stopped you.

“I um- it made me realize a few things about myself.”

“It made me realize a few things too.” She mumbled.

“Like what?”

“That you’ve been more than just my best friend for a long time.”

Natasha looked at you with so much love it made your heart ache. You felt the same and wondered why it took you both so long to get here.

“Can I kiss you?” She asked.

You melted at the shy look in her eyes and nodded not being able to speak.

Her lips were soft as they melded to yours. You wrapped your arm around her waist pulling her closer to you as she deepened the kiss. She was soft and gentle as she cradled you in her arms. Taking her time as she explored your mouth with her tongue.

When you both pulled back to breathe, Natasha looked at you shyly.

“Um, can we do that again when I have another nightmare?” She asked.

“Nat, you can control me whenever you’d like.”

She smiled brightly kissing you softly before laying on her back to pull you into her arms.

“You’re calling off training tomorrow. I’m going to hold you for as long as I want and if Tony has a problem with it I’ll dismantle his suit again.”

----

Hope you all enjoyed it!

Masterlist

natty dropping to her knees to eat her little valentine out <333

warnings: older!nat x kotenok!reader, oral sex (r receiving), and age gap. nsfw

“Hey.”

Her smile grows when her eyes drop to where you’re sitting. The small make shift bench in side her walk in closet seems more comfortable than it looks like.

But it’s the way Natasha looks at you from where she stands with her hair up in a bun and cheeks pink from working out.

“Hi, Natty.”

She reaches out a hand to dance her knuckles along the apple of your cheek. “You look pretty like this.”

“Really?” You ask her, genuine shock present in doe eyes.

The older woman nods and tilts your chin up with a finger. “You don’t think so, kotenok?”

You shrug, then look away from her gaze. “I don’t really think about it too much.” The words feel more intimate now that the two of you are so physically close.

But it’s the silence that makes you take a shaky breath of air. Natasha sees it and a frown erupts on her lips. Her hand reaches over again to force your attention back to her where her thumb draws over the crevices of your bottom lip.

“Can I kiss you?”

You look baffled by the question, almost feeling the blood that rushes to your cheeks and nose. But you nod anyways and bite your lip rather nervously.

“Okay?”

You nod again. “It’s more than okay, Natty.”

The older woman leans a great height to kiss you. What was supposed to be a simple kiss turns deep when you feel her tongue smooth over your bottom lip for access. It’s the whimper that parts your part and allows her access, and it’s the hand sneaking around your neck that has you heaving in response.

Natasha grows weary as she bends over. Kneeling down and settled between your parted legs, the red head pulls away to breath and she looks at you shameless.

“You alright, Bunny?”

You flush under the use of your nickname. The way the word falls so gracefully from your girlfriend’s plump lips has you clenching your thighs in arousal.

Natasha notices and with a grin, she cocks her head in faux inquiry. “Want me to help you? Make you feel good, yeah?”

Your eyes widen at her offer. While shy, who were you to deny the red headed bombshell in front of you? Your libido and abstinence could only do so much for you. Especially with the way the older woman kneels in front of you as if in prayer.

“O-Okay, Natty.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, shy.

Her hand squeezed your thigh from where it laid. She was just as excited as you were and she made it obvious with the way she bit her lip as she leaned in to kiss you.

While her lips pecked your own in a quick manner, her hand slipped around the small cropped lounge shorts you were wearing. The soft cotton fabric felt like sandpaper against her skin and she was just as eager to tug it down your legs and let it look around your ankles.

Your heart raced out of your chest just as her hands peeled your legs apart by the knee. Despite the lack of light, the small ambiance of the lamp casted a daring shadow over your girlfriend’s features.

You had nearly forgotten the fact that you were bare to here in your shared walk in closet and that you were dripping onto the bench, anticipating her next move.

Her eyes travelled to you then to where you had your legs separated. “Jesus Christ,” her cheeks grow red at the sight of you.

You were glistening, Natasha could definitely say that. But it was the way you were looking at her with big, wide, doe eyes that shed whatever’s left of your innocence that made Natasha breathless.

Nevermind the sight of your cunt, pink and puffy, wet and drooling all over her three thousand dollar hand crafted bench. She was at awe. Both at how beautiful you were and how much she loved you.

“Sweetheart,” her growl returns you to the land of the living. Your eyes staring at her dead ahead before within a blink, and her head nudges it’s place between your legs.

A silence screams parts your mouth and the sensation of her tongue fills your cunt with ease - the familiarity of her touch caressing your insides.

“Natty - OH!”

Your body falls and arches against her. Theres that coil in your stomach that churns and curls your toes. It makes you heave before forcing your hands to grip the curls on her head.

“Jesus,” she pulls away enough to mumble it against your wet cunt. “So - So sweet for me, honey.”

A shaky whimper breaks the silence, and with your shaking legs and bucking hips, you near your finish with a loud cry of the redhead’s name. Natasha moans boastfully loud, the vibration enough to make you sensitive and pull away from her anxiously.

“Too m-much. H-Hurts.”

She pulls away, mouth and chin glistening with wetness. Her tongue barely makes an appearance but when it does, she licks away the reminiscent of you.

Then a grin pulls up on her swollen lips. Her fingers hook around your ankles, and before you know it, her mouth is back on yours.

OMG YALL HORNY THOT: beefy!nat having you on her lap, your camisole is up and your tits are out, the camera is on for you guys’ live stream, her large hands are caressing your skin and the way she can feel your ribs when you arch your back into her palms, she loves it, she adores it and the way she pinches and flicks your nipples has you squirming... it’s all mysterious cuz the two of you never show faces but in the camera, you can see the red hair and the purple marks on your collar bones and that’s the only clue the two of you ever give... WET ASF

can we imagine seggsy time with nat and she puts a vibe on your clit but then straddles you so it’s on her aswell…. 😮‍💨

OH YEEEEAAAH