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your sweater | n. romanoff

natasha romanoff x spider!reader synopsis: for as long as natasha knew you, you had a grey sweater that had slowly become hers. all that she was left to do, was to make its owner hers, too. word count: 8.6k a/n: this can be read as a prequel to is there someone else? but functions perfectly well as a one-shot too! masterlist

For as long as Natasha knew you, you had a grey sweater that had slowly become hers. She first felt it around her shoulders the night you and Clint called off the mission of killing her to rescue her instead; your warmth and scent enveloping her in the most comforting hug she had ever experienced. In the freezing hotel room during the winter of Budapest, Natasha thought you giving up your own sweater for her was the kindest thing anyone could do, the first nice thing anyone ever did for her. 

You were freezing too, as she watched your body shivering sleeping right beside her. But you were still proudly claiming that your suit had inbuilt heaters to keep you warm, one of the many good things about working for SHIELD, you would say. It was your smile, and the already familiar scent of the sweater around her, that slowly lulled Natasha to sleep that night. 

Later on, Clint had grumbled to her that he knew you designed your own suits, and he definitely knew that there was no heating technology whatsoever in them. 

–

The sweater burned on her back as she watched you in flames just days later. You were pinned under a huge slab of concrete, after the escape plan of luring, and subsequently bombing, Dreykov’s offices took a turn. You had gotten injured fighting off a Widow protecting Dreykov, and while your spider-senses still worked to push Natasha far away from the blast, it wasn’t enough to pull yourself away safely in time. 

You struggled under the weight, crying out in pain as flames engulfed you and began burning through your skin. The air was thick and heavy, and Natasha found herself already covering her mouth to bite back through the choking sensation and the tears springing to her eyes. 

She couldn’t do it any longer. It physically hurt to watch you die, and she was never trained to have feelings. Efficiency, ruthlessness, these were ingrained in her from young. Watching people die should become second nature to her. So when Natasha turned around, and began running in the opposite direction to safety, she drowned out your cries with the sweater pulled over her fists to muffle her ears. 

But not even a few seconds later, where she was on the edge of the building and ready to jump, it was as if her own legs betrayed her, her head turning back one last time to look. And there you still were, face red, arms growing tired, and the flames quickly enveloping you away from her. The weight of the sweater burdened her even further. 

Natasha didn’t know which part of humanity left in her persuaded her to run back, and help to lift the slab of concrete off of you. You were choking and wheezing, but managed to squeeze through under the crack that she had managed to lift off of. Natasha’s guilt intensified when you smiled at her, muttering a quick thanks before finding a nearby building to zip the both of you to. 

She knew you knew she almost left without you, but when you were questioned on her loyalty later on in SHIELD, you stood firmly by her side. In your recounting of events, she had never tried betraying you and had the first instinct to save you, instead. 

–

“Why’d you do it?” 

“Do what?”

You were walking her to her newly assigned room, the first night of her new life. It was right beside yours, upon your request, and you were telling her something about connected rooms when she interrupted you. 

“Lie for me, back there. I know you know I tried to leave you there.” Her fingers fidgeted nervously against your sweater she still had on. 

You shrugged, unlocking the door and letting her inside. “If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here. Fury trusts me, and…I trust you.”

The room was spacious, almost too spacious. Almost the size of her entire apartment in Budapest, it strangely felt empty, and cold. Almost sterile. But then you laughed at her stiffness and reluctance, and showed her the door right next to her bathroom; it was a connecting door to your room. 

“See? Connected, like I told you. My side of the door will always be open for you, please come in if you ever need anything. I’ll be here.”

She peeked into your own room, and the warmth and safety of it mirrored the sweater she was donning on at that moment. 

–

Natasha mostly kept to herself in the first week of being at SHIELD, and while you gave her space to figure out the start of everything new in her life, you knew that she was, after all, scared and alone. 

You saved her a seat at breakfast every morning, but Natasha only showed on the first day. The other agents were giving her questionable looks, dirty stares, and the pressure of it all was breathing down her neck. Your kindness shone through, but it felt like it wasn’t enough. 

You would use the gym in the morning, and while you spotted Natasha there on her second day, you also watched as she left abruptly after the other agents began using the space in the later part of the morning. From then on, you instructed them to come just a little bit later, so she would have more time to herself in the gym. She never minded you around, however. 

And when there was a cocktail party being held at the bar nearby, you considered inviting Natasha. But then an old injury of yours flared just hours before the party, and you had resigned to just staying in your room for the night. The other agents had made fun of you, you remembered, as the hushed whispers and muffled laughs became more prominent through the week. 

“Got you wrapped right around her finger, huh?” One of your friends had said, to which you rolled your eyes too. “Who would’ve known, you of all people, with the KGB agent.”

“She’s not KGB anymore,” you corrected, before sending a middle finger their way as they departed for the party. 

–

When the faint chatter from the television became a low hum of a background noise for you, however, you found your eyelids drooping and sleep beginning to take you away. It was nearly midnight, and you presumed Natasha must have gone out on her own as well. You were probably alone in that whole tower.

Still, you heard it. And if you didn’t hear it, your spider senses definitely picked up on it, as another presence was felt in the room. You jolted out of bed at the proximity, and when your eyes opened blearily, there Natasha was; standing over your bed and watching you sleep. 

If it wasn’t so creepy and surprising, you would have treated her with more kindness than a, “Why are you watching me sleep?!”

Natasha looked solemn, as if in deep thought. Your senses were tingling, but no danger was detected, and you slowly lowered the sheets as you sat up to face her. “Natasha? Is everything alright?”

You hadn’t expected her to bring a familiar piece of clothing out from behind her, presenting it to you. Your grey sweater that you had lent her the night you met. 

“What detergent do you use to wash this?” Then, in a quieter, smaller voice, she continued, “I like the smell.”

Natasha quietly followed as you led her to the laundry room, then watched even more intently as you washed the next load of your laundry next to hers, the detergent now a shared commodity between the both of you. You watched her with tenderness as she pored over the machines churning while the both of you waited for your laundry together. 

Though your sweater never really smelled the same, Natasha enjoyed the frequent appointments to do laundry together after that night. 

– 

In your first mission together, Natasha entered into a disagreement with one of the other agents on how things were supposed to be run. The team was ganged up on her, but when you stepped in as mission leader in her favour, the choice was quickly overruled to Natasha’s decision instead.

Later on, Natasha caught wind of one of the agents whispering under her breath, accusing her of trying to seduce you, and when the words of dirty KGB slipped loose from their lips, she quickly stormed out of the common area, the slam of the door an indication to the others that their target recipient had been reached. 

Then, at night, as they walked past her sleeping quarters, one of them saw her wearing your sweater to sleep again, and the laughter that reverberated through the walls haunted her in her sleep. Tears pricked at her eyes as she cried angrily to sleep, the sobs wracking her body as she tried to cry as quietly as she could. She hates herself for being the way she is, hates that she is associated with the KGB still, hates herself for even finding comfort in your damn sweater, the one thing she thought would never be so rudely highlighted to her. 

The next morning, you found the grey sweater stuffed with your belongings. Thrown haphazardly over your own clothes, you already knew who owned it, and was surprised that it was being returned to you. When you caught wind of what happened, however, you chased Natasha down immediately.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you pushed the article of clothing back to her, insisting she hold on to it, “You should keep it.”

“They’re already accusing me of things I would never do to you.” Natasha’s eyes averted your gaze, afraid her voice would waver if she looked at you. 

A hint of a frown appeared on your lips, before you reverted back to the smile, the special smile reserved just for her, and stuffed the sweater back into her arms. “I want you to keep it. I will have a talk with the other agents. You should never be embarrassed about things that make you happy, Nat.”

It was the first time anyone had ever given her a loving nickname.

–

After the incident, Natasha quickly realises that the other agents seemed afraid of her. They no longer talk in hushed whispers about her, no longer tried to steal her spots at breakfast or use her equipment in the gym, no longer tried to sabotage her missions. It was a strange feeling to suddenly be left alone. 

“She got mad at them,” Clint told her one day, when she found another agent yet again scurrying away from an equipment she was intending to use, “They’re scared of her, so now they’re scared of you too.”

Natasha also realises that she has never seen you angry. “What’s she like? When she’s mad?”

Clint scoffed, before shaking his head. “The scariest thing I have ever seen. And I’ve known her for years.”

–

The sweater burned on her back again, this time with her skin on fire, as Natasha watched the team of agents gathering below her. It was after a mission, and while she opted to go ahead and freshen up first, the group began interrogating you on the dependent relationship the both of you have had from the start. 

When someone finally asked the question of whether you had feelings for her, Natasha watched your body freeze for a minute, before relaxing and nodding your head, sheepishly saying yes. 

She didn’t know why, but she suddenly found herself gripping the ends of the railings with a death grip, anger coursing through her veins at your declaration of having a crush on her. 

–

“You should get married.”

Natasha was sitting in Fury’s office then, at her wit’s end on how exactly the KGB kept finding her. It was like she could never truly escape, and the team was running out of ideas on how to keep her hidden safely. 

She gave him an incredulous look, before he held up a hand to let him finish. “Get yourself a green card, become an American citizen. That, combined with your SHIELD involvement, will mean that they can never touch you. Ever again.”

“Who would even want to marry me?” She bitterly laughed, but Fury’s expression never changed. 

“I can think of someone.”

“No. She wouldn’t be as stupid as that. She wouldn’t say yes.” Suddenly, she was very afraid of your answer. Would you say yes? Would you actually agree to marry her? Surely you held yourself in higher regard than that. Surely you knew you deserve better. 

But when Fury brought you in later, and popped the question nonchalantly, you thought about it for a moment, before merely shrugging, and saying, “Sure.”

Natasha found it shocking that you spared no second thoughts, no reservations, no doubts about what marrying her would mean, when you were always so calculated and pragmatic in missions. 

–

You insisted on bringing her dress shopping, a week before your set wedding date. Natasha never dreamt of ever getting the wonderful opportunity to get married. 

So as she stared at the piles and piles of wedding dresses the shop assistant had prompted her to try on, while you waited patiently outside, she found herself almost tearing up. It was all too real, and all too much like a dream too. She couldn’t have even fathomed of a life outside the Red Room just a year ago, and now here she was picking a wedding dress and getting married to perhaps the most wonderful person she knew. 

Rain began to pour when the both of you stepped out of the bridal shop, and Natasha noticed the way you would let her walk on the sidewalks to prevent nearby cars from soaking her as they drove past, noticed the way you tilted the umbrella ever so slightly to shield more of her body from the rain, noticed your arms around her shoulder to keep her close to you. 

You were shivering again, after the both of you found shelter later on. But when Natasha offered to take off the grey sweater she had on to warm up your drenched body, you flat-out refused. 

“You’re going to die from hypothermia,” she bluntly stated, already irritated at your refusal to let her take care of you for once. 

“Nonsense,” you grinned through chattering teeth, “I’ll be fine. Plus, that sweater has always looked better on you than it did on me.”

Natasha’s cheeks reddened at the compliment, and her hands shook slightly as she brought her body closer to yours, hoping some of her body heat could transfer onto you, too. 

–

Natasha remembered her vow as short, and as impersonal as it got, coming from the Internet, but you were still smiling at her like she put the stars in the sky throughout her speech. She knew she didn’t deserve you. 

Your vow highlighted everything you loved about her as a person, and although it was short and sweet, Natasha found herself biting her lip as hard as she could throughout, trying not to make eye contact with you in fear of what would happen to the tears welling up behind her eyes. 

For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. The both of you said ‘I do’s. 

You leaned in to kiss her first, and while Natasha was afraid of what it would feel like to have your lips on hers, you had only pressed them together briefly, respecting her fear and space of having a wedding out of necessity. However, she swore in that brief, fleeting moment, her heart thrummed louder than she thought it was possible in her chest, and sparks flew, somewhere in the back of her mind that she kept safe, the space she reserved for her growing feelings for you. 

After the wedding, Natasha found herself even angrier at the confirmation that she was not only attracted to you, but also falling in love with you. 

–

In the grand, palatial space of the hotel room the two of you shared later on that night, however, it was not the lust-filled, sensual moans that filled the air of the room. Instead, the creaking of the bed and the moans were filled with your agony and Natasha’s anger, as her hands wrapped tightly around your neck, fingers almost blue with how hard she was holding you. 

The breath had been knocked out of your lungs much earlier, and your face was already turning purple as Natasha spat out threats above you. 

“I will never, ever, fall for someone as stupid, and kind, as you. I will never reciprocate your feelings. I will never want to be your wife in any other circumstances. You are to treat me like a colleague, you are not going to treat me any differently than the other agents, and you are not to ever show your feelings for me, ever! Do you understand?” 

You could only see the outline of your sweater draped over the back of the armchair, the life almost leaving your body if Natasha held on a second longer. 

The woman was on the brink of killing you, but all you could zero in on was that damn sweater. It really never leaves her shoulders. 

In the silence of Natasha’s threats, she saw you smile at her, nodding your compliance. 

–

You needed to keep your distance, you knew. You had been perfectly compliant to Natasha’s demands; treating her just as you would your friends, declaring as loud as she did that the marriage was fake and you were both very much not together, even to the extent of agreeing for her to switch her room with Steve’s at the far end of the halls. You tried your best to swallow your pain and frustrations, and as far as Natasha knew, the facade you kept had made it easier for her to ignore her feelings for you too. 

Still, she knew you looked out for her. She felt completely safe in missions together with you, and there was no one else in the team she would trust so wholeheartedly with her life. You made sure she had a voice in SHIELD, made sure she was never outcast or swept aside from any team the both of you shared. Everything, as far as appearances mattered, was fine between the two of you. 

Everything until the battle of New York. 

–

In the Quinjet home, you had already noticed her frustrations. Everyone was exhausted, battered and bruised from perhaps the biggest mission you had ever undertaken in your life, but still you noticed the way Natasha was tapping her foot repeatedly by her seat, fingernails pressing deep into her palm as she tried steadying herself. 

When she briskly brushed past the group to head straight to her room first, Tony had shrugged her off with a wonder what’s up with her? Clint gave you a knowing look, but you assured the group with an instruction to just give her space. When it came to Natasha, you were her best interpreter. 

However, when she failed to show up for dinner even for the following night, your concern had begun to spread from her just being battle-weary to something more. The team watched you pick at your food for all of fifteen minutes, before leaving abruptly to find her. 

“Natasha, is everything alright?” You knew she was behind her door the second your senses tingled of her presence. 

A few beats of silence went by, before she mumbled, “I don’t want to go for dinner.”

You leaned your forehead against the door. “That’s alright. I brought some granola bars from the pantry if you’re hungry.”

Natasha failed to reply this time. You prompted, “Natasha, can I come in?”

“They’ll hate me.”

“They?”

“The team,” her voice sounded muffled now, as if buried between her arms, “They’ll think I’m avoiding them.”

“They don’t, I can assure you that much.” 

“They don’t know me like you do.” You bit the corner of your mouth at the slight affection in her voice, reminding yourself to suppress your feelings to always protect hers. 

Then, she whispered, “The door’s unlocked.”

You found her on the floor upon your entry. She was sitting with her back to the foot of her bed, tear tracks running down her cheek. Your sweater was engulfing her entire frame, and her wet hair framed the red eyes that were glued onto the television, playing a Disney movie on mute. 

Natasha tore her eyes from the screen to look at you, and you gave her the warmest smile you could. That damn smile. She looked away again. 

You sat next to her, shoulders pressing against hers. Natasha wondered how you weren’t disgusted with her, and all of her past that she had shown through your first major battle together. You had watched her kill, interrogate, and torture, in order to get what she needed, and you were still looking at her like she put the stars in the sky. 

“You know, Clint tripped over one of his own arrows at target practice today,” you began, as Natasha reached out for the granola bar you offered, “Fell flat on his face right in front of me and Maria. It was hilarious, an archer with the agility of an elephant.”

The hint of a smile on Natasha’s face was all it took for you to continue, triumphant with your efforts to help get her mind off things. “And Maria laughed so hard that snot came out of her nose. God, it was so embarrassing, she tried to cover her face with my mask when word got around. I lent it to her, of course, with the warning that if she ever tried laughing in it she would have to make me a new one from scratch if snot even got on it.”

Her smile grew wider. Her own shoulders finally relaxing, Natasha fell into her new habit of laying her head on your shoulder, arms slung around yours. You patted the hand that was shaking above yours. 

You knew you were her safe space. Natasha loved the safety and patience no one else was ever willing to give her. And so when your heartbeats synced and Natasha felt the words at the tip of her tongue, she had to ask, “Do you think I’m a monster?”

“A granola monster, maybe.” It wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, as a sharp jab was aimed at your side. You pointed out all the crumbs she was leaving on the floor as you clutched it later on. 

“I’m serious. You’ve seen my case file, you knew who I was before all this, you know of what I’ve done and now, what I can do–”

“–And yet, I still think you are the most honest, kind, and caring person I’ve ever known.” You finished her sentence, leaving Natasha stunned. She studied your face for any sign of a bluff. You stared at her right back. 

And suddenly, her arms were around your neck, her body on top of yours, as the woman pulled you into the tightest, bone-crushing hug you’ve ever had. Speechless, to say the least, you again swallowed the rapid beating in your chest to hug her back, knowing what she needed then. 

“You did well. The mission was a success, and you came home alive. That’s all that matters. You don’t need to be afraid of yourself, or what others would think about you, Natasha. You’re one of us now. And if anyone ever tries to make you feel otherwise, you know you’ll have me. I’m on your side, always.”

That night, Natasha fell in love with the feeling of your arms around her, and unsurprisingly, it replaced the comfort of only having your sweater on her back. 

–

Natasha told you about the Red Room in the months after. She was your best friend now, and you were everything to her. She told you about her family, about Yelena, about how she still felt like an intruder to the Avengers sometimes. You always told her she belonged right from the start. 

She told you about ballet, and when you asked if she could teach you, the tears that welled in her eyes hadn’t been one from her being touched. You knew immediately and shot down the idea. That night, she told you that it was one of the worst things about being in the Red Room. She fell asleep crying in your arms at the memories it triggered. 

She was an insomniac, and you quickly learned that she preferred your balcony’s views over hers. Not that the view was better, but the glow from your room surrounded her in the warmth you always handled her with. She told you it was because yours was quieter. She liked her quiet time, but she liked it better when you sat beside her in those times. You noticed she wanted you around almost everywhere now. 

You knew everyone else did too, and if you allowed yourself hope, you would listen to their endless teasing of how much Natasha had fallen for you, too. 

–

Natasha was waiting for you after your solo mission to Greece, where Clint had told her was too dangerous for anyone below your clearance to even attempt. She had argued with Fury on sending you out there alone, but he reasoned back that sending two people would raise too much suspicion. She couldn’t argue with the logic, and was stuck with just the agony of waiting for your return. 

She bolted back from training the moment she heard you were coming back, waiting by the Quinjet landing zone for your jet. She ignored the looks from the other agents at her enthusiasm, waiting for the other Avengers to join her too. 

Steve came shortly after, but she was already pacing around and wondering why you were almost an hour late. He gave her a knowing look, she pleaded with him to not mention anything. She couldn’t say it into words, but she was thankful he understood. 

“Romanoff, she’s already in the building. The jet got destroyed on her way home.” Fury came only half an hour later, sparing her of her anxiousness at your lateness. 

“D-Destroyed?”

Fury nodded. “She told me it was hard coming home, but she’s here now. Saw her clearance card tapped into our systems, must be in here somewhere.”

Natasha knew where you were. You hated the medical wing of the building, and there was only one place you would return to after exhausting missions. Steve hugged her shoulder reassuringly, and left her to find you alone.

–

Your senses were still overloaded and shocking you all over from the hypersensitivity and trauma from the mission, so when your door unlocked with Natasha’s clearance, your brain failed to register she wasn’t a threat, and a web was immediately shot to glue her hand to your door. 

She flinched, but when you turned and saw it was her, you knew she was as surprised as you were to see each other. You, because you weren’t expecting anyone to come find you so quickly after a mission, and her, because of the bandage rolls you were wrapping around yourself, and the cuts and bruises that littered your body. 

You were bare, and vulnerable, and exactly two breaths were exchanged in the time it took for Natasha to register her shock, and you to formulate your response. “To be fair, I thought I would have more time to look more…uninjured.”

The lithe muscles under the purple marks, the way your abs flexed as you turned to face her, the cut across your cheek that only highlighted your cheekbones even more to her. The beads of perspiration across your skin. Natasha’s face immediately grew red hot, and you were even more confused. 

“Y-You…”

“Natasha, it’s really not as bad as it looks,” you tried to smile, but the cut on your upper lip stung when you stretched it too far. 

She still stared at you. You suddenly felt tiny, unsure of yourself under her scrutiny. Has she never seen a naked body before? 

“I should–” You were cut off with her suddenly rushing forward, and instinctively, you reached your arms out to hold her. But Natasha fell into them naturally. It was her lips pressing against yours that you couldn’t prepare for. 

When Natasha kissed you, it wasn’t soft, or sweet, or gentle in the slightest. You were in the bedroom, and not the church, you knew, but when her teeth clashed against yours and you stumbled to fall back into the bed with how hard she chased your lips, you knew there was something else that she could never put into words. 

“Natasha–” You tried to reason, tried to ask if she was sure of what she was doing, but she simply shook her head, hand on your chest to silence you. 

“Do you want this?” She asked, biting the bottom of your lip. 

“I…”

“Do you want this?” She asked again. Her hands were travelling lower and lower, careful to avoid your biggest bruises. Your body reacted quicker than your brain could when she began to touch the wetness that had embarrassingly resulted from your kiss. 

“Yes.” 

“Me too,” she said, your sweater being thrown off her shoulders in the seconds after. Natasha cupped her hand over your mouth when you tried to ask her what she was doing, pinning you down on the bed and carving her name into your bones as you screamed it over and over throughout the night. 

–

Of course, the morning after, you caught her gathering her clothes at the edge of the room, and when she felt herself being watched, she had to turn around.

“This…last night…was meaningless,” she put on a brave front, though she didn’t know if she was convincing more of herself or you, “We’re still just…friends. Nothing more.”

You put on an even braver front, knowing the way she was. Your smile seemed to convince her, as you nodded briefly and told her you understood. 

Natasha noticed you didn’t say goodbye when she left, simply burying your head under the covers again. 

–

It became a routine; her coming to your room on late nights, and beyond the feeling of your arms around her, Natasha craved more and more. You were like an addiction, a vice she could never let go of. Celebrations, tragedies, the good, the bad, Natasha spent the night at your bed when anything happened, your cries of pleasure her dopamine for the night and her leaving your room the next morning your heartbreak for the day. 

It went on for months, and still, you couldn’t say anything. Natasha needed you, and who were you to deny her? 

You smiled at her each morning before she left, took care to conceal the hickeys she left on your skin, and always emphasised aftercare for her after your most intense sessions. In those moments, where the bath water had cooled and it was your hands rubbing the soft loofah all over her, her body fell back on yours, head on your shoulder again. She would look up occasionally to you, and the colour of your eyes would be all that was seared into her head for the rest of the night. 

You were so undeniably attractive, and kind, and perfect, and everything she didn’t deserve. She knew you would do anything for her, wait until the end of time until she was ready to tell you your feelings were reciprocated. It would be unfair to keep playing with your feelings, and entertaining hers, for so long. Natasha needed to put you out of your misery.

But no matter what, she could never fathom the idea of someone like her ever being together with someone like you. She was so hard to love, but you loved her like it was breathing. It was terribly unfair. 

She remembers so many times she has hurt your feelings from her own cowardice; but one particular event stood out. 

It had been Maria’s birthday party, where a deeply intoxicated Tony had spotted the two of you huddled in the far end of the lounge sofa, quietly in your own world of conversation. 

He had no one left to disturb, and upon intrusion into your personal space and drawing the eyes of everyone around, he had brazenly asked if the two of you planned on ever getting together, or if you were just going to force everyone to tolerate the sexual and romantic tension between the both of you for the rest of your lives. 

You had immediately looked away, of course, cheeks reddened and the grip on your drink tightening. Hoping to ignore Tony and praying that he would just go away quietly after his teasing, you didn’t expect Natasha to scoff instead. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s disgusting.” 

She was drunk too, evident from her slurring and constant invitations for the both of you to carry on the party in your bed instead, but the finality and pure disgust in her voice had you second-guessing your own senses. 

A roar of disapproval rampaged through the crowd, and upon their laughter and jeers, Natasha snuck a quick glance to see if your beautiful smile was stretched into a chuckle too. But your eyes were still averted, and only a hint of a sad smile appeared on your face. 

She didn’t know why her heart sank to her stomach at the sight of you refusing to make eye contact with her. 

—

When it became apparent that Bruce was interested in her too, Natasha made the irrational decision to not only tolerate his advances, but also entertain the idea of them being together instead. 

Perhaps it had been insecurity, or a curiosity for the scientist itself, but the Widow knew the real reason was that she needed to get her mind off of anyone but you. She knew whatever she had with you, she would never have with him, but still she chose him. 

The grey sweater of yours sat heavy in her overnight bag as she tells you of her decision to room with him in Clint’s barn. She feels hesitant to take it off when he tries to rip it from her the night they sleep together. She feels dirty in the morning after. She feels even worse when Tony teases her about the thin walls of the house at breakfast. 

She almost loses it when you come in to defend her, before asking if she slept well afterwards. She didn’t have the heart to tell you she clutched your sweater to sleep through her nightmares after Bruce had fallen into a deep slumber. 

— 

In the Quinjet home, she overhears Clint pulling you aside and telling you to just move on. She hadn’t meant to hear it; it was obviously a private moment between you and the archer where the other members were supposed to be asleep, but Natasha had wanted to seek your comfort and arms to brave through her nightmares. She immediately realises it would be incredibly unfair for you if she had. 

“She has him now. She’ll never pick you, you must know that.”

She heard you sighing loudly, and the softest, slightest sniffle after. Natasha found herself hugging your sweater tightly around herself. 

—

But one night, one awfully faithful, terrible night, Natasha sees you with Maria, and all hell breaks loose. 

She was getting a drink, and some peace and quiet in the kitchen to supplant the peace your balcony offered. 

But you were there, and as Natasha recognised the smell of your perfume from the entrance, she was already preparing to throw herself into your arms and profess the tiring day she had, when she rudely interrupted her own daydreams. 

Your back facing her, you were trapped between Maria’s arms pressing you against the counter. Your hand holding her jaw, her lips were feverishly chasing yours as her moans filled the air. It was the exact same position Natasha would so often find herself with you on your rendezvous all those months ago. 

It was her jaw you used to hold. Her moans you would hear. Her arms the ones holding you. Not Maria, not anyone else. 

The sheer dread and betrayal that washed through her had Natasha retreating out of the room immediately, but not before knocking over a stray chair she failed to register. It crashed as it fell, prompting you to break the kiss immediately. 

When your eyes found hers, Natasha felt the need to retch. 

“Natasha, wait!” 

You had freed yourself from Maria, but Natasha was already halfway across the hall, running back to her room. 

That night, for reasons only known to herself, Natasha digs through her closet again, throwing everything that Bruce has ever left in her space to one side of the room. 

She finds the grey sweater she has abandoned since getting together with him, and for the first time since the night she slept with him, she clutches it to her chest and cries herself to sleep with it. 

—

You brought Maria to the wedding of one of the other agents. Natasha sat pretty in Bruce’s arms throughout, never finding the strength to end things with him, but never letting her eyes wander anywhere apart from you. 

She watched Maria hold on to your every word while her hands wrapped themselves around your arm, just like she had. She watched from two rows behind, Maria leaning her head on your shoulder as the bride and groom exchanged their vows. She watched her own hands gripping the wooden bench so tightly she thought it might break from her strength. 

You slow-danced with Maria, and her with Bruce. Maria leaned in to whisper something in your ear that Natasha tried desperately to read from her lips, while Bruce’s arms tried to entrap her to him. His touch always felt foreign; your hands had always been more nimble and gentle with her. You held on to Maria’s waist the way you used to hold hers in bed, and Natasha fought the urge to rip her own hands off of you as they roamed your figure. 

When you finally leaned in and captured Maria’s lips against yours, Natasha pushed herself off of Bruce immediately and headed straight out of the church to cry. 

That night, while you whispered words of prayer and worship upon Maria’s skin, Natasha was screaming at Bruce to get out of her room and breaking up with him. 

–

In the moments that followed, the moments of pure silence, and realisation of what she had done, Natasha felt horrible. Bruce didn’t deserve the ending she left him with, and she was sure she had woken up Steve in the next room because of her meltdown. She once again screwed things up, once again isolated herself as the outlier of the team. 

Natasha banged on your door in the moments after, her knuckles rapping on the wooden door and jolting Maria awake. She in turn shook you awake, and in the moments you took to dress yourself, the raps had gotten heavier, more alarming. 

Natasha practically threw herself onto you the moment your door opened, sobbing into your chest hysterically. You spared one look at her, then Maria in the bed behind, and it was all it took for the other agent to know who took priority in your heart.

You gave her an apologetic smile, promising to make it up to her, while Maria nodded numbly. She gathered her own clothes, held your shoulder briefly, before leaving the room to you and Natasha. You muttered a sorry, she only shrugged and left. You felt Natasha hold on to you tighter in the moments you took to speak to Maria. 

Natasha only calmed down when you quietly shushed her cries with assurances, your hands carding through her hair and holding her just like how you used to. Your heartbeat was slow, steady against her ears, the source of her safety and home. 

Clutching a cup of tea that you made for her, Natasha welcomed you sitting beside her against your bed frame this time, your shoulders still touching. You didn’t speak, or pressure her to speak, and instead only switched on the television, flipping through the cartoons on mute to let her relax. 

The comfortable silence lingered while Natasha sipped on her tea, the occasional sniffle still escaping her, while her eyes glued itself to the network on the screen in front of her. You joined her in watching the cartoons, propping a pillow against your back when it started to hurt. 

Finally, Natasha broke the silence with, “You must think I’m insane.”

“I cannot think of you apart from love.”

The breath caught in Natasha’s throat. Your words were warm like the sun. 

She put the mug down, and cleared her throat. “I broke up with Bruce.”

“Oh.”

Your eyes were still glued to the screen, any evidence of surprise or shock devoid from your face. Natasha didn’t know to be thankful or offended that you didn’t ask the reasons why. “He wasn’t a bad person, I was just…not the one…for him.”

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling comfortingly at her as you put your arm around her shoulder and brought her close, “It takes a long of wrongs to find the right one.” 

“What if the right one never comes for me?”

“Then I’ll be here, for you, always. There’s no rush, or pressure, Nat,” you affirmed, even though your throat was closing up at the topic Natasha had chosen for the night. 

“But what if I left Bruce for that right one?” She held the ends of your T-shirt, a new urgency in her voice, “What if I’ve found that right one, but I don’t…deserve…someone like them?”

You only pressed a kiss to her hairline, shaking your head. “What nonsense. How terribly lucky that person would be, to be loved by someone like you. It is probably the greatest privilege of anyone’s life to be with you, Natasha.”

You wiped the small frown off her face with the edge of your thumb, holding her face just like how you had so many nights before. She felt like she was going to burst with all the love she had for you. And then you smiled, and laughed about the tear tracks left behind in the wake of makeup on her face, and Natasha hit you lovingly with all that she could not say to you that night.

When she had fallen asleep in your arms and left you staring at the ceiling later, you wondered if the horrifying ache in your heart at the fact that she was so irrevocably in love with someone else to feel that she didn’t deserve them, was going to be the cause of your death. 

–

Your relationship with Maria eventually fizzled out, moreso with her realising her place in your list of priorities and you not wishing to lead her on for something you knew was not going to end well. You both remained friends, and it was her that you eventually confided in with how much your longing for Natasha never seemed to ever lessen in intensity, or fizzle in fervour. 

She was the one who placed you and her in your first mission together after the both of you had returned to being single. It was supposed to be a simple one, for the both of you to bond and get back the ‘friendship’ that had been slightly altered from Natasha’s jealousy and your pain, but it was difficult, to say the least.

You had gotten captured helping her escape, and with a firm demand for her to return with the hostages first, Natasha was left with no choice but to leave you behind. Fury had screamed into her comms that she had to complete the mission first, before coming back to rescue you, but all through the flight home, the tears that had flown freely down her cheeks served only as reminder that it was her mistake, her incompetence, that resulted in you being at the mercy of the enemy now. 

She was denied the opportunity to rescue you. Fury didn’t trust that she would be able to keep her cool, and Natasha’s protests and attempts to sneak herself on the team only resulted in her being allowed to watch the body cam footage of the team being tasked to rescue you instead.

 She was only subjected to a clear view of them torturing you, hitting you with electrically-charged weapons and demanding for her location. You had screamed, cried, and passed out several times, your suit was torn and your skin underneath burnt and raw, but still you refused to give up her location. 

Natasha could only hold your sweater tightly against herself, the sleeves soaked with her tears as she watched and waited for an opportunity to rescue you. Clint held her hand in support beside her, and when Natasha made eye contact with Maria across the room, the other agent finally understood why it was her that was being used to extract information out of you.

Maria was the first to hug her in encouragement when they rescued your unconscious, but still breathing body, whispering to her ear, “She only ever looked at you, anyway.”

–

Natasha hated herself for hurting you. She hated that she was the one whose mistake landed you in such a critical condition. She hated the agitated screams and shouts from the medical wing doctors as they tried to stop you from dying. She hated that she always ruined everything she touched, hurt everyone she loved. 

But when you woke up and she cried into the crook of your neck about how sorry, and guilty she was, you still reassured her that it was never her fault. She apologised for breaking you and Maria apart, you were still kind to tell her it was never going to work. She apologised for being a horrible person to be around, you told her everyone made mistakes, and as long as you didn’t die, it was still a mistake she could learn from. 

–

You helped Natasha build back her confidence from her mistake in that mission. She orbited her life around yours now, hanging on to your every word, cherishing every moment with you as if she would never see you again. 

Everyone began comparing the two of you to an old married couple now. You always protected her and defended her for only acting the way she was around you. 

“Ignore them,” you would say after each accusation, each tease. You taught her to be confident in her skin and her skills, enough so that nobody else’s words would matter. Apart from yours.

But Natasha doesn’t want to ignore them, not anymore. 

–

The Avenger catches herself falling for you more and more. 

The way you lend her your mask after missions to help her focus and bring her back to earth. 

The way you yell at the team to save her the last slice of pizza when she finds it embarrassing to do so. 

The way you offer her your entire wardrobe to steal from when the team pranks and steals your sweater away from her for April Fool’s. The way you get it back for her right after.

The way you tend to her wounds before your own. 

The way you teach her to accept, and love herself; you constantly tell her she is more than what the KGB trained her for. The way you make her feel good about herself and the world she’s in when you’re around. 

Natasha is afraid of the day someone else captures your heart before she has the courage to tell you she loves you. 

–

She was attending a guest lecture of yours at a university. Words of quantum mechanics and astrophysics flew by her head as she sat in the back row of the lecture hall, busy admiring the blouse that was folded up to your sleeves, and the poise and dignity you held in your stance. It was not surprising that the other students also broke in hushed whispers about your looks throughout the class. 

When you finished, and sent a smile up her way to signal the time for lunch together, Natasha found her own smile mirroring yours. 

Natasha waited by the door while the class’ professor took a few moments to speak and pick apart your brain. A little older than she was, the agent did not deny the obvious attractiveness to the woman; but when she began noticing the subtle glances she was sneaking to your lips, or the light touches she made to your elbow, she knew it was not irrational to want to strangle the woman for even being in your proximity. 

She cannot risk losing you again. She cannot hear your laughter and jokes directed at someone else. She cannot watch you go with someone else while she stands by the sidelines anymore. 

“Excuse me,” she interrupted, “I’m sorry for my interruption, but my wife and I have a lunch to attend to.” 

Natasha pulled your elbow away before either of you had so much time to process, or even reply to her interruption, dragging you through the halls and out into the courtyard of the building. It was now or never. She was sure you knew. 

“Wife?” you asked, a little out of breath, a little in disbelief. 

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, wife.”

“You don’t…you…you called me…?” You were clearly at a loss for words. Natasha found it adorable, the hopeful, puzzled expression on your face. 

“She was hitting on you.”

“I know, but I wasn’t…I wasn’t going to…”

“I don’t want anyone else to hit on you,” Natasha came closer, her arms found themselves on your waist, “Anyone else but me.”

Her hands cradled your face. “I love you. I have loved you from the start. I look at you, and I just love you, and it terrifies me. It terrifies me what I would do for you. You are my right one; right from the start. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you that.”

You were speechless, and Natasha giggled as she helped close your mouth at her declaration. “Thank you, for loving me. For seeing the best and worst parts of me and still loving me through it all, for waiting so long for me to have the courage to love you back. You don’t know how much you mean to me. And I’m quite sure I have loved you the same too, it makes me a bit pathetic to love you so much.”

“You would never be pathetic to me.”

“I know,” she laughed again. Natasha always found joy easier to come by when she’s with you. 

She smiled sadly then. “I’m sorry I was so hard to love.”

“I can love you like it’s breathing. I just can’t help it.” You couldn’t believe what was happening. 

Your arms felt warm like the sun. Natasha felt easier to breathe around you. You were everything she needed to heal. 

“Well, what do you say we start the rest of our lives together from here on? As wives?” 

“I’d say that I made the perfect decision marrying you.” 

Natasha knew wearing your grey sweater with her that day was a good decision.

<3

Reunited - Sirius Black x Reader

Summary/(A/N): After 14 years, Harry’s Godmother is finally reunited with her husband. I made this sort of specific to whatever my own mind came up with; (Y/N) is Harry’s Godmother, and has of course known the Marauders since their school days. She’s known Harry since the events of POA, and she took him in. Harry and (Y/N) have lived together for the past two years, and although Harry has met and seen Sirius, the most that (Y/N) has received is letters. Finally, in OOTP, they’re reunited. 

Warnings: None really, maybe a lil’ kissing scene <3 

Keep reading

Oh im down baaadd

whiny sub gp sev,, like "nmmghh- c-cant anymore." while still thrusting weakly into you after cumming 4 times, or "please let me cum." while rutting recklessly into you

Until I'm Satisfied

Contains suggestive themes, amab!Sevika, humiliation, dirty talk, cock slapping, ropes, praising, implications of chastity, blowjob, mommy kink, overstimulation.

She might act as if nothing bothered her in all of Zaun, but after she was done finishing up with Silco's work, you always had her in your bed with her legs spread and cock throbbing for you. Grunts and moans escaping her with no shame, you're the only person in all of the damn world who could do this to the "big, powerful Sevika" you taunted. Sevika denied all your claims but the way her thighs were trembling and every, even feather light, touch was enough to make her jerk to the side told a different story.

"Your mind is not in balance with your body." You uttered as you clinically cut away every little bit of dignity, her clothes, away. "We can get you new ones." You said when you heard her whine. Her dark short hair was down and face sweat dampened from the effort of not screaming in pleasure. She wasn't that broken— not yet. But even Sevika knew that it was only a matter of time considering how practised you were with your ministrations. Her dark-skinned cock, around a good eight and a half inch, stood tall and erect.

"What a dirty girl. See, your stupid little cock is so hard without me even doing anything. Imagine if I—" you grabbed the shaft of her cock, squeezing it hard but not enough to hurt, "—did something for real to you." Precum oozed out of the reddened tip, the vein at the underside of her cock twitching subtly as if in response to your words.

"Stop, please." Sevika said, looking away. Oh, she did not mean for you to stop. You saw the way her length twitched in your grasp. She was silently begging you to let her cum. It had been just about a good hour you palmed her through her clothes, exposed her to the cold air and watched as she slowly got harder and harder, letting her little brain wonder on about the horrible things you'd do to her.

Sevika loved feeling vulnerable. You gave her shaft another squeeze eliciting a low moan from her again, she shifted. "Haven't you had your fun already?" She asked, eyebrows furrowed and voice restrained. "I really need you badly." It was laughable, Sevika's deep voice speaking to you in that meek tone.

You slapped her cock, watching as it wobbled and got back to its original erect position. Sevika bit her bottom lip to suppress a whimper. "Lewd girl." You tutted. "Who do you think you are, speaking to mommy like that? I think you should be taught some proper manners so you don't act like a bitch in heat 24/7." Your thumb rubbed over the tip, her reddened and very wet slit, "Think I should lock this pretty little thing up, hm?"

Sevika's grey eyes widened, getting glossy just with the thought of being denied her relief for so long because of her impatience. "I'm sorry, mommy." She whispered. "Please." She looked up at you, bottom lip pouted out, "Please, don't do that. I promise, I'll behave."

"You will, huh? You promise?" You stroked a finger down her making her whimper. Sevika was such a submissive little slut for you, all she wanted to do was please you and you couldn't help finding that endearing. However, that didn't stop you from exploiting her submission to you.

You grabbed the ropes sitting on the bedside table, wrapping it around her legs to force them apart. "You know what to say when you want me to stop." Sevika nodded. "Words." You said with a warning tone glancing up at her.

"Yes, mommy." Sevika answered, "I know the safeword." You tightened the ropes and tied it around the wrist of her flesh arm pulling it up against the headboard, securing her. Finally, you brought the rope to her pathetic cock, tying it around the shaft and squeezing the rope around her. Sevika winced, eyes squeezing shut as she shuddered. "Mommy, please..."

You chuckled seeing more precum seeping out of her slit and bent to give it a small lick, tasting her. Sevika moaned softly feeling your tongue against her leaking cock. "Mommy, please, touch me." Sevika said, "Touch me and make me feel good, mommy. Please. Please..."

You sighed dramatically before bringing your pretty manicured hand upto her cock, giving it slow strokes. "You're so spoiled with all of mommy's mercy, huh?" Your fingers wrapped around the base, thumb teasing one of the veins that popped.

"Well, I guess, since you're begging so much, it's only mommy's responsibility to make you cum as many times as your little body desires." Sevika stared at you with slight confusion but then gasped and moaned feeling you sucking the tip of her cock, stroking it with your hand as you did. Your tongue rolled over her slit, collecting her juice and "Mm"ing at the taste of it.

Sevika's legs struggled against the ties as she trembled beneath your heavenly touch, when the warmth of your mouth completely engulfed her shaft, she let out the breathiest moan ever, "Cumming." She warned, her eyes closing. Goodness, she was so sensitive. Cumming from just a few minutes of stroking and licking.

Sevika now wished she patiently took all your teasing instead of begging you to touch her. It was overwhelming, the amount of pleasure she felt. But she still wanted more. Sevika was completely sex drunk, rutting her hips up desperately as she struggled to get you to touch her more.

"You still wanna cum?" You taunted making Sevika whine. She tensed when she felt your lips make contact with her shaft again, opening to let her in your mouth. "Gonna cum again for mommy?" You asked as your other hand played with her balls.

Sevika nodded desperately. "Yes, yes, please!" She moaned loudly as ropes of semen, albeit a bit weary, shot out of her cock. She was a trembling mess. But you didn't care. She wanted to cum, didn't she?

"Don't do that, I'm sensitive." Sevika whined feeling your hand continue stroking her even after she had come undone several times before. You only slapped her shaft again before squeezing it slightly. "You wanted to cum, now you'll keep cumming until I'm satisfied."

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LMFAOOOOOOOO TRI GUYSSS

*angrily clicks like button*

AWWWWWWWW

Operation get Mr Bucky and Momma together

Paring: Beefy and Teacher! Bucky x milf! reader

Summary: Bucky doesn't play favorites but Amaya is definitely his favorite, especially because her mom is hot.. Cue a 6-year-old trying to get Bucky to be her dad. {wc: 2.2k}

Warning: a bit of bucky being insecure but not that much, Karen parent being annoying, bucky is a fool but amaya is gonna fixed it.

a/n: I've been sitting on this for months but I had to step back from this account bc of everything. thankfully I finished this before my electricity went puff but not my best job. pls have mercy bc I'm rusty.

Bucky knew there weren’t many male first-grade teachers. But honestly, it was his dream job. He was teaching the country's future and helping them become better people.

Also, 6-year-olds love him, especially with his fantasy land classroom he forced Steve to help decorate. Bucky loved being a teacher, and he loved his kids. Relatively easy to get up every day at 6 am when you love your job. 

That being said, he knows he shouldn’t have a favorite student. So it’s basically written in the teacher’s rule book. 

But Amaya was undoubtedly his favorite of his unruly kids. She was very spirited. Amaya loved helping out her classmates and talking to them. She was just the best student he had ever had.

She is amusing. Every day she comes to him with a story about her mom. Unfortunately, Bucky hadn't met her yet because she was busy with work. Still, he interacted with Amaya’s second contact, Natasha. 

At this point, Bucky feels like he knows her. How she likes tulips. Her favorite color is pink, which is Amaya’s favorite, but that’s a funny coincidence. He knows that Amaya and her mom go to the museum every week on the day they have special events for kids. Amaya’s favorite exhibit is the one about mythical creatures. 

“Momma likes the one with the paintings. She likes the one with the man who gives the girl a flower.” Amaya tells Bucky. Amaya always goes to Bucky’s desk after finishing her classwork because if she doesn’t, she distracts her classmates. Or give her classmates the answers, so this is the only way to keep her entertained. She always takes this time to draw something for Bucky to hang on his wall of drawings.

“Oh, Mister Bucky! Momma is going to come to pick me up today.” Bucky cursed mentally, completely forgetting today was parent-teacher conference. 

Talking to 6-year-olds was a lot easier than talking to adults. Especially when you are telling parents that their kids are having problems. The worst part of the job, honestly. If Bucky could just teach his kids, send letters to the parents, and never interact with them, he would. 

“Going to meet the elusive Miss (Y/N)?” Steve, his best friend, asked. Because of budget cuts, Steve was currently the art teacher for the entire school. Did he like it? Probably not having the kindergarteners put glitter in his hair, but he enjoyed a challenge. 

“Apparently,” Bucky mumbled, opening his lunch. Just a ham and cheese sandwich because he was running late.

“She finally showing up to a conference?” Sam asked, heating up his lunch. Sam was the history teacher for the 4th and 5th graders. He was also a pain in Bucky’s ass, but he decided not to think about it and focused on his incoming stomach ache. 

Fuck, now Bucky had to clean his classroom and prepare everything. What if one of those Karen parents shows up and starts complaining about stupid things? About how his classroom is Lord of the Rings theme and how that's bad for kids? Maybe about how he’s a male teacher? He is already spiraling.

“Oh, you are talking about Amaya’s mom? I met her when I was Amaya’s kindergarten teacher. She’s really nice and - “ Wanda started talking but was interrupted by her twin brother Pietro, the gym teacher. 

“She is also smoking hot. Like ultimate Milf in this whole school. ” He comments, which makes Bucky feel even worse because how will he talk with a pretty girl? He hasn’t done that since college. 

Wanda rolled her eyes at her brother and sat down next to Steve to eat her lunch.

“You’ll be great though, Barnes. She’s really nice, and you are a great teacher, so you won’t have any problems with her.” Wanda reassures her coworker. Bucky takes a deep breath and takes another bite off his sandwich. 

“And I still  believe my son should be seated in the front.” Mrs. Robinson complained, which she had been doing for the past hour and a half. Going past the hour dialogue they are supposed to be having. But since Amaya’s mom is running late.

“Mrs. Robinson, I understand, but some kids in the classroom require specific accommodations. Because of that, the entire front row is taken. So I can’t sit Tommy in the front. “ Bucky explained for the 10th time. Mrs. Robinson just rolled her eyes and huffed. 

Before she could complain again, someone knocked on the door. A woman in formal and professional clothing stepped into the classroom. Amaya popped into the classroom with the brightest smile.

“Mister Bucky! I brought Momma!” She screamed excitedly. Amaya’s mom tried to quiet her, but from Bucky’s experience, Amaya is impossible to corral. 

“Well, Mrs. Robinson, my 4 o'clock is here.” Bucky said nervously, trying to politely kick out Mrs. Robinson and her big-ass attitude. 

“We could discuss this further in another parent-teacher conference.” It took everything for Bucky not to roll his eyes. Fucking self-observed parents think their children are the only ones that matter, Bucky thinks to himself.

“Sorry for my tardiness; I got held up at work.” Amaya’s mom apologizes. Woah, she really is pretty, Bucky thinks.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. (Y/L/N).” Bucky says, trying to catch his breath. 

“Please call me (Y/N).” She smiled sweetly at Bucky. Bucky gulped.

“Let me get to the point; Amaya is a fantastic student. One of the best. She is above her group’s reading level. She writes pretty clearly for her age. No complaints from me; whatever you are doing at home is workin’.” Bucky explained, (Y/N) smiling at her daughter, who was too entertained with Bucky’s snowball on his desk. 

“Thank you, but I can’t take that much credit. Maya absolutely adores you.” Bucky blushes at her praise. 

“She’s a good kid; it’s easy to teach kids like her.” Bucky praised Amaya, who was surprisingly quiet. Which would scare Bucky because if there’s one thing he learned from teaching first graders is that quiet means trouble. But he dismissed it because she wouldn’t do anything wild with her mom right next to her.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes, for everything. With getting a new job and having to provide for my family, you’ve literally given me so much peace.” (Y/N) leaned in closer. 

“If I am being honest, I was worried about ‘Maya’s performance at school. “ She whispered, but Bucky gave her a reassuring smile. 

“Amaya, could you please give these papers to Mr. Rogers?” Amaya nodded and grabbed the papers Bucky had handed her. Then, Bucky sent a text to Steve telling him to keep Amaya out of his classroom to talk to her mom.

“I haven’t noticed a difference in her behavior if that makes you feel any better,” Bucky reassured her. She sighed.

“I am worried about her. Ever since she was born, her dad has been in and out of her life. Now he has disappeared for good. Amaya has been acting like it doesn’t bother her, but no first grader should hide their feelings.” She confesses. Bucky wants to do two things. 1) kick Amaya’s father for being a piece of shit and abandoning such a precious child and her mom. And 2) himself for getting excited by hearing that (Y/N) is single. He can already hear his mother chastising him.

“I’m so sorry to hear that (Y/N).” Bucky said earnestly. She just shook her head.

“It’s okay. Any advice for me?” She said in a joking tone, trying to alleviate the tension. Bucky lets out a nervous chuckle. 

“Just keep being there. In my experience, being present and making the child feel like they have a support system is the best way to help them during this difficult time.” Bucky smiled at her. 

“Thank you. See you on Monday?” (Y/N) said, getting up from her chair.

“Yes. Definitely.” Bucky felt his heart beating at a faster pace. 

This school year was definitely going to be interesting. So Bucky thinks, watching Y/N walking out of his classroom.

What Bucky doesn’t know is that Amaya plans to make life more enjoyable. She was supposed to be sleeping, but she heard Auntie Tasha’s voice and decided to say hi.

“Nat, you could’ve warned me, you know!” (Y/N) explained. Natasha laughed, handing her best friend a glass of wine. 

“He is hot, isn't he?” Natasha grins. Amaya looked at her mom, who had a goofy smile. She has never seen her mom with a smile like that. 

“Ridiculously hot. And his eyes? Nat, his eyes are just so gray. I almost spilled my entire life story right there and then.” (Y/N) groans. Natasha just laughs.

“It should be illegal to have a first-grade teacher look that hot.” (Y/N) added, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“Just wait till you see him in casual Fridays. That man looks excellent in a Henley. “ Natasha joked, but that seemed to disturb (Y/N) even more. “Look out ‘Maya you might have a new daddy.” 

What auntie Tasha said made Amaya think. Mister Bucky was her favorite teacher, and she wished her momma would be happy. Them together would mean that she would have Mister Bucky around forever, and Momma would be happy and have a goofy smile like that forever. 

That’s when Operation get Mr. Bucky and Momma together was born. 

Every day after finishing her classwork, Amaya would go to Bucky’s desk and talk to him. Most of the things she said were little seeds to push him to get close to her mom.

Today was different; Amaya’s patience was thinning. A week passed, and every day when her mom would pick her up, she saw the googly eyes her mom and Mister Bucky were giving each other. It’s time for the big guns, Amaya thought.

“Mister Bucky, do you have a dad?” Buck was shocked at Amaya’s question. 

“Yes, I do.” Amaya sighed dramatically after hearing Bucky’s answer. 

“I don’t… I wish I knew what that was like.” Bucky’s heart broke hearing that. Amaya had her head down, but Bucky couldn’t see her smirk. 

“You will one day. I promise.” Bucky knew he shouldn’t say that but wanted to uplift her and give her hope.

“Hey, Mister Bucky, maybe you could be my dad!” Amaya said, doing a complete 180 in her demeanor. Bucky almost spits out his coffee, and he starts to cough. But unfortunately, he fell right into Amaya’s trap.

“I don’t know about that, Amaya,” Amaya smirks. 

“But Mister Bucky, momma already likes you. You would be a great dad.” Was it embarrassing for Bucky that his 6-year-old student was trying to hook him up with her mom? Maybe but hearing that said mom liked him did give him a bit of an ego. 

“Really?” Amaya nodded enthusiastically. 

“She said that she really likes your eyes.” Amaya admitted. Bucky knew he shouldn’t be asking these questions. If Sam knew, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. 

“Is there anything else she said?” Bucky asked, acting casually as if a 6-year-old was gonna read his body language. However, Amaya is too smart for her own good. 

“I heard her telling Auntie Jen that she liked it when you wear red shirts.” Bucky made a note to buy more red shirts after school. 

“Is your mom going to pick you up today?” Bucky asked; Amaya nodded. 

“She said we were going to the mall today,” Amaya explained. She could feel her plan working, but who knows? Grown-ups were weird.

Bucky’s heart needs to catch a break. That being said, seeing (Y/N) every afternoon, his poor heart won't be getting any. Especially when she came in with her lawyer suits. It was like a punch in the gut. 

But what really hit him like a punch in the gut was what Amaya said when her mom came to pick her up.

She grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled him towards her mom, who was waiting outside the classroom. 

“Momma, Bucky said he would be my daddy.” Amaya said with the biggest grin. Bucky choked on his own saliva and started coughing. While (Y/N) just started laughing. 

“Did he now?” (Y/N) asked her daughter, that was excited that her plan “worked.” 

“I- uhm. I didn’t say that she took it out of context. But, I mean- I” Bucky’s ramble was interrupted by (Y/N).

“It’s okay, Mr. Barnes. I know how Amaya can be. Don’t worry.” Bucky sighed out of relief. 

“Mommaaaaa…” Amaya whined; her mom just rolled her eyes. 

“Yes, ‘Maya?” (Y/N) asked in a snarky tone. Amaya signaled to her to lean down. Amaya whispered something to her. (Y/N) giggled with her daughter. 

“Mr. Barnes, would you like to go out for coffee someday?” (Y/N) asked, Amaya still giggling behind her mom. 

“I would love to.” Bucky said, which caused Amaya to do a little victory dance in the back. As if nobody could see her. (Y/N) turned around and laughed at her daughter’s antics. She pulled something out of her jacket, a piece of paper.

“I have to go, Mr. Barnes. Sorry for my little troublemaker.”She said, handing him the piece of paper with her personal phone number. Bucky was confused.

“What is this for?” Bucky asked, utterly confused about what this meant. 

“For whenever you would like to get that cup of coffee.” She told him, grabbing Amaya’s hand and walking towards his card. 

Bucky felt his cheeks heat up. He might admit that Amaya was his favorite student, even if she played matchmaker. 

He looked down at the card. Oh, he is gonna call.  

I live for boyfriend sarah catherine🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

omg hear me out, so fluffy Sirius x reader were she’s getting protective over Sirius because their friends tease him about how he’s submissive in bed?🥺 just can’t stop thinking about the poor pup who’s getting all shy but proud at the same time;-;

good boy

pairing | sub!sirius black x fem!reader

warning | sub!sirius, mommy kink, teasing, mentions of smut

word count | 239

The two of you sat in Sirius’s bed, Sirius cuddled up into you, his arms wrapped around you, his head resting on your breasts. 

One hand rubbed up and down his back while the other twirled pieces of hair around your finger.

Whenever the dorm was empty the two of you laid together, basking in each other's presences, it was comforting for Sirius to calm himself with you. 

There weren't many words spoken between the two of you, Sirius came to you always overworked or tired, just needing your love.

Music played in the background quietly, both of you hearing the stomps coming from outside. The door swung open, Remus and James stopping in their footsteps, seeing the two of you together.

“There you are Pads, wondering where you were.” James said to his friend. Sirius whined in your arms, hiding further into your neck.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You whispered, kissing the crown of his head.

“Aww look at the little baby.” Remus teased, nudging James’s shoulder. “Have to go to mommy to feel better, you're her little slut aren’t you.”

“Mommy.” Sirius whispered in your ear, you smirked, seeing how worked up he got. “I’m a good boy.”

“Yes you are baby, don’t listen to them.” You whispered, “Make mommy so proud.”

His heart soared the praise, knowing despite how much his friends would make fun of it, it didn’t matter because he was perfect in your eyes.

sorry

Having horny thoughts of G!P innocent nat.

Her being a virgin because she was insecure about girls wanting her, but when your both at a part and dressed up all fancy, you start dancing and grinding all over her and she gets a hard on. you feel it through her slacks so you pull her away to your bedroom and ask her is this is ok. She doesn’t know what to do when you get on your knees and start pulling her slacks down, and then she starts nodding profusely and begging. “Please, please, please. I’ve waiting for so long. Don’t think I can do it any longer.”

“Yeah? Want to do you want me to do? Want me so suck you off, baby?”

You lightly trail a finger along the underside of her dick teasingly and she moans shout and her cock twitches. As she has had no experience and doesn’t know how to work a dick, she gets riled up really easily.

“y/n” she moans out, “I think I’m gonna cum”

“How pathetic. I’ve touched you once and your already going to cum. Only thinking about yourself, huh? Don’t you want to please me, Natasha? Or do you only want to make yourself feel good like a fucking whore?” You tease and she goes bright red and whimpers. You smirk and scoff. “Is this turning you on? Me talking to you like your nothing but a common whore? Of course you are, such a needy little thing.”

She bucks her hips forward and her dick accidentally hits your mouth, she goes to mutter out an apology but you stark licking the tip. “Fuck, feels so good.” She moans and starts writhing above you. You lean forwards and boldly lick all over her and start kissing her cock all over, leaving red lipstick marks on her shaft. Then suddenly she grabs your hair, pulls your face away and starts cumming all over you.

You shut your eyes so you don’t get any cum in your eye and she starts apologising. When she finishes you open then again and wipe some of the cum off your face with the middle and ring finger, looking at it and licking it off your fingers. She whimpers.

“How selfish. What am I going to do now? You’ve got me all turned on but can’t do anything about it, huh?” You say sternly and stand up.

“No, I’m sorry. I can. I can I promise. I’ll be good for you.” She gets on her knees and starts to pull your underwear down but you put your red stiletto heel on her chest and push her backwards, she almost bows down to you. “M’sorry. I’m so sorry, please let me help.”

You grab her ponytail and yank her head underneath your dress, resting your thigh on her shoulder and digging your heel against her back, making her arch into your leg. She gets hard again and starts licking you whilst humping your stiletto like a bitch in heat.

“Oh wow, you can’t even focus on getting me off and have to make it all about yourself once again? Imagine what everyone would think if they walked in, the big bad Natasha Romanoff acting all needy and little for me.” You moan out, getting close. She kitten licks you all over, not quite knowing what to do so you start rubbing your clit. “Cant even do it yourself. Pathetic”

You cum with her and she ejaculates all over your heel, staining it so you make her bend down and lick it clean. “There we go, doing something for someone else for once huh? That’s it, good girl Natasha.” She licks faster and you smile.

Haha whoops. Anyways.

AHHHH

yes.

hiii, i think your requets are open so i would like to request a fic after hogwarts where draco and (reader) are married and maybe have a child, and draco is a professor at hogwarts. He sees his students and maybe he wants to feel young so he fucks one of his students (of legal age) and his wife finds out :(

Betrayal.

masterlist taglist

draco malfoy x reader | angst | JUST ANGST |

a/n : this is my first time writing angst and this is what i get for my first time?! but ok i’ll try and thank you for requesting! <3 (i’ll change the concept a lil bit)

the sudden regret washed over his body as she left his room, he doesnt even know why he kept doing this. but one thing for sure, he was addicted, she’s like a drug. the adrenaline rushed through his blood making him keep going back to her.

draco knew this was wrong in any way, his beloved wife or once he loved was waiting for him to come home, to be back in her arms, but he did this to her instead. what she doesnt knew wont hurt their marriage, right?

he sighed, cleaning his desk and going back to his work, his mind wandered to his wife, he hadnt wrote to her since last week, he was too busy. he pulls his drawer and grabs a quill and a parchment.

Dear Y/n,

Hello, my love. How was your week? I’m sorry I havent write to you, the work keeping me busy. How is our little boy? Please reply this letter as soon as you received it. I miss you and Scorpius. I’ll be home soon.

Love,

Draco.

draco gives the letter to his owl, he walked in to his private bedroom, locking it and throwing himself on the bed slowly closing his eyes. y/n, please forgive me.

he woke up and found the girl he has been sleeping with. straddling his hips and sit on top of him, naked. he shoots her a smile, pulling her for a kiss which she gladly returns.

“what are you doing here, sarah?” draco asked as his hands roaming around her body making her giggle.

“i feel lonely, professor.” sarah gives him a wink and starts to undressing him, she grabbed his cock and pushing it inside her making both of them moaning out loud.

sarah starts to bouncing up and down while draco meeting her move, thrusting upwards. they were having their moment, moans filling their room until the door of his room bursted open.

“draco?”

the forbidden couple stilled at the voice, draco quickly pushes sarah off of him and his heart dropped to his stomach as he sees who was interrupting their ungodly activities.

“y- y/n?! love please i can exp-” the door slamming shut making a loud thump, draco who was already pale quickly getting his clothes back running to get his wife hoping she hasnt left yet.

“y/n please listen to me!” draco yanked her wrist making her body turned around to face him, he was about to pull her in his arms but y/n shoved him away off of her.

“i’ll send divorce files as soon as possible” she turns back leaving him who already had tears running down his face.

“no! y/n!”

draco wake up panting heavily, sweats running through his forehead, he looked around and found no one, no sarah. he inhaled deeply as he realized he was just dreaming. the sun shines bright blinding his eyes forcing him to get up from his bed.

>>>>>

there she is, sitting with her legs open, for him. sarah shot him a wink at his flushed face making him gulped. he turns his body back to the board, focusing his attention on teaching his students, like he was supposed to.

draco was sitting on his chair, working through his assignments when suddenly he hears an impatient knock on his door.

“come in.” the door opened revealing the younger girl, her shirt unbuttoned enough to show him her cleavage, her skirt is on its usual short, she swayed her hips as she approaching her lover.

“hey, do you need something, baby?” draco asked as his eyes traveling down her body, the desires to have her right here coming back to him.

“oh nothing, i just needed my favorite professor..” sarah chuckles grabbing his hand to make him stand up, she runs her hands on his chest, slowly unbuttoning his shirt making draco shuddered.

“not now, sarah” draco looked up to the clock at his wall, his eyes now full of lust as he sees sarah taking off her shirt showing him her breasts, she doesnt even bothered to wear a bra.

he pushed sarah against the wall, his hand and his mouth latching onto her breasts, she moaned his name making he snapped back into reality.

the dream from last night replaying inside his head.

he quickly pulled himself away from her making her confused.

“hey, whats wrong?” sarah asked as she runs her fingers through his hair bringing him closer to her catching his lips.

“i’m sorry sarah i cant do this anymore” draco tried to pull away but her hands werent letting him go.

“you’re talking nonsense, draco” sarah starts to grinding on his, getting him hard, draco moaned instantly at the friction, he couldnt thinking straight anymore.

one last time, then its over, truly over. draco thought to himself as he unbuckled his trousers letting it hit the floor, he pushed her skirt up to her hips and pulling off her panties, he pushed all of his length into her, his eyes rolled back in pleasure.

draco rocked in and out of her, her body bouncing against the wall making him quickening his pace, snapping harder into her. they both were so lost in pleasure that they didnt hear the door being opened and a loud gasps coming behind them.

“draco?”. “daddy!”

their shocked voices ringing in draco’s ears as he came to a full stop, panicked showing on his face as he turned around and redressing himself.

he looks at y/n carrying their son on her hips, her hand covering his eyes. she held a look of mixed emotions in her face. draco was hoping this will not be the last time he would ever see them.

“y/n..” his voice broke as they left the room, tears streaming down y/n’s face. he runs immediately to them, pleading and begging y/n to stop her steps and listen to him, tears running down his face as he forced y/n to stop.

“please.. forgive me i promise i didnt love her, it means nothing to me, i swear..” draco dropped to his knees, holding her leg to prevent her from leaving him, he looked up to y/n who now held nothing in her face. he sobbed harder as his kid looking down at him in confusion.

“i hope it was worth it draco, thank you for all these years.” draco shakes her head crying uncontrollably as her legs kicking him off of her and in a second she and scorpius apparated.

draco gathered all of his stuff as fast as he could, telling mcgonagall that he quited. he doesnt care about sarah, he doesnt care about anything anymore at this point all he wanted was to come home hoping his wife and his child still waiting for him at the front door.

then the reality hit him in the face, he found their house empty, no sign of y/n no sign of scorpius running over the house, nothing. he dropped his body on the couch, his tears were dried, his head is dizzy, he cant help but take a look of their family picture hanging on the wall.

“fuck this!” draco smashed the picture to the ground but quickly picking it up again, he stared blankly at the picture as tears coming back to his face, his hands are shaking.

days by days passed, y/n showed no sign of coming back, draco was alone in their manor having no spirit to continued his life. he already sent his wife a letter per days to tell her and beg her to come home.

draco was sipping his tea in the kitchen when he heard rustling coming from the window, an owl approaching him and giving him envelope.

he opens the cover and he wished he didnt open it. it was a divorce paper along with a small note on top of it.

“i’ll keep you updated on scorpius.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

this was shitty af i’m sorry i tried but i’m too stupid for this thing 😖💔

tagging : @dracoscum @hellounicorn @onyourgoddamnleft @whoreforgeorgeandfred @turn-to-page-394-please @malfoysbiitch @f4iryluvy @slut4dracoo @arzfia @alexthealexthealex