Honey Pots And Feathers.

dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light - N.R.

(Part of my Red (Taylor's Version) fics)

Song - All Too Well

Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary - You can't sleep so Natasha calms you in the way she knows helps best -- I just love soft Nat so much and her singing to you would be so comforting and cute omg

Warnings - none, pure fluff :')

Word Count - 1003

You couldn't sleep. Lying on your back with a frustrated huff and staring up at the glow in the dark stars and planets stickers you'd dotted around; Natasha laughed one day as she walked into your shared bedroom to find you balancing on a chair that you had balanced on your bed, tongue poked out of your mouth in concentration as you stuck them up one by one. She helped you keep your balance, not entirely thrilled at the childish décor you were pasting over what once was her ceiling but loving it - and you - nonetheless.

You looked to the figure beside you, the redhead sleeping peacefully lying on her side with her hands tucked beneath her cheek, squishing her face in such an adorable way. You smiled at how sweet she looked, truly enamoured by the woman next to you; the way her soft and gentle side is reserved for you, the way she slowly opened herself up to you and let you love her and see her vulnerable. You felt privileged and lucky to be hers the same way she was yours.

You'd been unable to sleep for a while now, tossing and turning but not being able to switch your mind off enough to doze off. And your stomach was begging for a midnight snack - who are you to refuse? You moved carefully so as to not knock into Natasha as you climbed out of bed, the large t-shirt you were wearing falling to your mid thigh and the rest of your legs bare.

You tiptoed to the door, pulling it open as quietly as possible whilst checking on the woman behind you - she was still sleeping soundly, success. You continued your actions in an equally silent manner, shutting cupboards and drawers with the utmost care as you fetched out what you needed, working in the dark as you knew your way round in such a state. Slowly placing the plate onto the counter to minimise and noise, spreading peanut butter onto some bread for a sandwich - Nat will be so jealous, you thought with a smirk, taking a bite.

The downside to peanut butter sandwiches though is how dry they are, so you went to the fridge seeking the container of orange juice. Though, as you were searching you felt a warm presence by your hand. Turning, you saw the smug face of your girlfriend retreating from the sandwich in your hand which now had another large bite missing from it, you gasped mockingly with a shake of your head as she held back a laugh - both of you keeping quiet as the others slept.

"Trouble sleeping, krasivaya dorogaya?" She whispered as you poured some of the juice into a glass.

"Yeah and I wanted a snack." You returned, making her smile.

"You could have woken me." She added, taking the glass from your hand and taking a sip - she knows you have trouble sleeping and there's one thing she does that helps calm you enough to grow sleepy.

"I couldn't, you looked too cute." You smiled, looking at her smiling back at you, face illuminated by the glow of the light streaming from the open refrigerator. You walked back to the fridge to put the container of juice back, taking another bite of your sandwich and giving the rest to Natasha who took it happily and finished it off. "How can you look so good when you've just woken up in the middle of the night?" You questioned, cupping her cheek in your palm. "A masterpiece." You whispered, a blush and a grin crawling across her cheeks before she pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

She separated your mouths but kept your foreheads pressed together, her hands holding softly onto your waist as she began to sway your bodies side to side. You turned your head, resting it on her chest so her chin rested on your head, your hands looping around her body and holding onto her back. You gently swayed from left to right, Natasha's soothing voice breaking the silence as she began to lowly sing.

For you, there'll be no more crying

For you, the sun will be shining

And I feel that when I'm with you

It's alright, I know it's right

She sang the lyrics in just above a whisper, so serene and tender as you held onto her. The thoughts racing throughout your head slowly fading away as she brought your focus to her, listening to the peaceful singing of the love of your life.

To you, I'll give the world

To you, I'll never be cold

'Cause I feel that when I'm with you

It's alright, I know it's right

You couldn't help but quietly hum along to her words, smiling into her chest as she stroked your hair, bodies still swaying in a placid dance as you held onto one another - no other place you'd rather be.

And the songbirds are singing,

Like they know the score

And I love you, I love you, I love you

Like never before

You were finally feeling peaceful, smiling against her skin as your eyes slowly grew heavier.

And I wish you all the love in the world

But most of all, I wish it from myself

She walked you back to your room, holding you from behind with her hands tightly holding around your waist and her chin resting on your shoulder, pressing small kisses on your cheek every few steps. Climbing into bed behind you and going back to holding you as soon as you lay on your side, with your back pressed against her front and her legs entwined with yours. Her fingers softly stroking strands of your hair as she whispered the last lines of the song, you eyes drifting closed not long before she fell back to sleep.

And the songbirds keep singing

Like they know the score

And I love you, I love you, I love you

Like never before, like never before,

Like never before

Translation krasivaya dorogaya - beautiful darling ALSO the song used was Songbird by Fleetwood Mac :) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTi19MPOvDw

Hh this is amazing- Your writing has improved so much over the past year!! 💕💕🥰

her careless whisper

you interrupt an important meeting of natasha’s and she reacts in a way that even her colleagues are surprised by.

warnings: MOB!NATASHA, nothing but sweet fluff.

You know Natasha sits busy in her meeting to, but as the bedroom passes by with the silence and the spot beside you grows colder by the minute, you frown to yourself and huff at your insomnia.

It’s barely even midnight and the two of you had fallen asleep early but Natasha had woke up and promised that she’d be back. But within half an hour, she was still gone and your fingers itched for her presence.

You knew not to disturb her while she was conducting business but hopefully she’ll make an exception for this once. You knew she couldn’t say no to you, not when you peered up at her with heavy lashes and those doe eyes.

And you knew it as you stepped down the stairs, entering the grand foyer where you room a left and walked down the hall for a moment before fitting the large doors that were closed. You knew Natasha was behind the oak doors and you paused for a moment to contemplate your decision.

But as quick as your thoughts were, the door swung open and one of Natasha’s business partners from Europe stomped out of the room without even batting an eye at you.

Your eyes were wide and your heart raced at the sudden scare, but that was relieved when you looked into the room and found Natasha and the rest of her business partners staring at you like you were some deer.

You swallowed at the attention but it were Natasha’s eyes that you feared more. She looked at you emotionless, her deep emerald eyes were striking and you knew despite her facade, she was just as surprised at your presence.

She turned slowly back to the men that surrounded her but you stepped inside of the room regardless of her silence. Once the door clicked shut, she began speaking once more.

Her voice echoed loudly throughout the room and her tone was firm and there was an edge to it that you couldn’t pin point. However, as you stood there with wide eyes, you noticed her attention wavering as her eyes kept glancing over to you.

One of the men seemed to notice and coughed, inevitably interrupting Natasha mid-sentence.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to the pretty lady?”

Natasha raised a brow and then turned to you, still nothing on her face but you watched as her men grinned as they followed along and looked at you like prey.

The redhead hummed. “My apologies...” She motioned an arm for you to near her and when you did, she snatched you into her lap within an arms length away. “Gentleman, my wife.”

You politely smiled at them and waved a meek hand, some of the men smiled back while some grinned with mischief. And while the dangers of their thoughts were obvious to your eyes, you knew you weren’t in any true harm as long as Natasha was around.

Natasha then hooked her arm around your waist and pulled you closer, without any other warnings, she urged the meeting to continue. And as you say there, curled up in your lover’s lap, listening to the men talk about their next business and finances, Natasha leaned close to peck your head.

You smiled and nuzzled your nose against her neck, smelling the faint scent of her perfume still lingering on her pale skin.

Then you spoke: “I’m sorry. I missed you”

She hummed and then whispered. “We will talk tomorrow, dekta. Just sleep.”

And even in the presence of the men she callss her colleagues, she doesn’t fear their judgement for her love for you. Instead, she holds you close almost like her prized possession. They fear the Russian mob boss for it, for her love for you creates more anger and dominance in how the redhead holds her self.

As you succumb to your slumber, the faint noises of voices and the familiar sound of the door clicking echoes deep in your ear. A moment passes with silence but Natasha continues to hold you anyways. Her lips caresses the rim of your ear and you sigh.

“Goodnight, bubba.”

You smile at her gentle tone, curling further against the Russian’s hold as she carried the both of you back into bed.

“Love you too, Nat...”

nat’s selfies >>>

Ohh my god🥺🥲 Natasha in this fic is so contradictory.. I LOVE her honestly I have never watched Jennifer's body but this is making me want to SOO badly oh gods succubus(?) Nat is so hot and mean this is amazing😭💕

fury shakes the rafters

pairing: dark!nat/f!reader

summary:

Aside from the cannibalism, Nat is mostly the same. Still ridiculously strong and stupidly hardheaded. And that face — flinty, cold, mean. Nat’s always been mean. 

(inspired by jennifer’s body)

additional notes: mommy kink, dom/sub, bloodplay(?), dacryphilia, uhh pussy spanking, choking, unhealthy relationship, terrible aftercare

title from a song suggested by an anon: nobody by the crane wives

(ao3)

Keep reading

OPF request, natasha braiding R's hair after a shower together with some discussion about their past during the braiding? Also some of the head lean backward, pulling on braid for a kiss please :) If you'd like (I would also love it) the showering scene with them both being dumb and nearly getting soap in their eyes or something lmao

yesssssss, this is beautiful!

| natasha x fem!reader | only pretty faces |

warnings: mentions of death

You hear Natalia switch the shower on, the water thundering through the pipes, and you slip out of bed and pad down the corridor to the bathroom. Still no lock on the door: you push it open with your fingertips and inhale the steam that billows out. You step in and shut the door with a click behind you: Natalia’s shadow twists in the shower.

“Hey,” she says, from behind the half-drawn shower curtain. “You scared me.”

You pull your clothes off, let them crumple in a pile next to hers, and tie your hair back.

“I’m not scary,” you say. You lift a leg over the lip of the bath and step into the spray: it’s hot and forceful. Natalia reaches for you, grabs your elbows and pulls you closer. She kisses you, her face warm and wet. Her hair is soaked down, soap bubbles drifting off her shoulders - you reach out and smooth them away with your palm.

“No,” she says. She runs her fingers over your eyebrows, dripping water into your eyes.  “You’re not. You’re cute.”

You pull an awful face at her, but you don’t draw away. Eventually, she smiles at you, kisses you again with that smile still on her face.

“Want me to wash your hair?” she asks, palms flat against your sternum. 

“Yes,” you say. You push your forehead against the strong bridge of her nose. She presses her lips to the space between your eyebrows. “Let me sit down. It’s early.” She laughs.

“Okay.” She presses lightly on your shoulders and you go willingly, sinking to the floor of the bathtub. You trace her thighs with your fingers as you drop, and then you twist so your back is to her, your knees up to your chest. The spray of water is rapidly wetting your hair. Natalia tugs it gently out of its hair tie and digs her fingers into it, sorting through the snarls and knots. Then she sits behind you, lays her legs out alongside yours, and starts the wash.

Her hands are strong and steady, lulling you back into a steady doze. You lay against her chest, allowing her to enclose you, less like a cage and more like a shield against the wide white wall behind the two of you.

Each cycle of the wash is gentle and thorough. You must sit there for at least an hour, but she doesn’t complain of wasting the day or sitting in discomfort in half an inch of warm water. This intimacy is strange, close and naked but not sexual, easy in a way that makes you want to sink into her, crack her open and climb inside. You grip her legs to ground yourself from those images.

Natalia’s hands paused in your hair. “You good?” she asks. The spray beats down on your shoulders

“Good,” you say. You squeeze her knees playfully and in retaliation, she smears bubbles over your cheeks.

“Idiot,” she says, affectionately. You lay your head back on her shoulder and she grins down at you.

“You’re dripping soap in my eye,” you say, blinking rapidly. Your eye begins to burn.

“Oh, God,” Natalia says, sticking her hands into the shower stream quickly to rinse them off. “Sorry, sorry-” She cups her palms and splashes water over your face, too much, and it goes spilling into your mouth and up your nostrils. You splutter, scrambling up into a sitting position and scrubbing at your face. Behind you, Natalia begins to giggle in between her apologies. You twist and spit a stream of water in her face.

When the two of you step out, washed and scrubbed pink and breathing hard from your little water fight, Natalia grabs her towel. You tug it out of her hands. She raises her eyebrows at you quizzically.

The words almost stick in your throat. “Let me,” you say. Natalia hesitates - hesitates like she never does - and you grip the towel, so fearful of her withdrawal.

“Okay,” she says. You nod.

You dry her, feet first, then shins and strong calves and thighs, and as you progress, she watches you carefully. Observes you like she’s learning. You dry her stomach, her ribs, her spine, pausing to touch the rise of muscle beneath her skin. You keep your touch deliberately gentle. Her shoulders lose their tension when you wipe the water from her collarbones.

“Done,” you say, and you fold the towel over the rail and step away. She’s watching you still, hands in fists by her side. She seems to shiver, and you crouch to pick up her fresh clothes and offer them to her. She takes them, but doesn’t put them on, rather holds them out in front of her as if she’s afraid they contain a spider or a venomous snake. “Nata,” you say. Her eyes are wet. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she says faintly. “I-” she cuts off her words and stares down quickly at her feet. “Nothing’s wrong. That was sweet. That’s all.”

Those words break your odd little trance, shrugging off the moment like a gossamer layer. You grab your t-shirt and pull it on over your head, your hair dampening the collar.

“Do you want cereal?” you ask, moving past her out of the bathroom door. 

It seems an age before she answers. “Yes,” she replies, her voice soft, frail like an icicle.

● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● 

You fix her cereal for her and by the time she’s dressed and wandered through the door of the kitchen, your hair has dried in tangles down your back. She surveys it instead of your face.

“Do you want me to braid it?” she asks, without making eye contact. You shove her bowl towards her and she sinks into a chair, receiving it with both hands. “You remember? We used to braid-”

“I remember,” you say. “I remember most of it.” That’s not at all true. You remember gentle fingers in your hair, your own hands fumbling through soft red and black and blonde locks. You also remember the snap of a neck in your hands, the dead stare of a little girl with her hair still in braids, fresh from the night before. And you remember pain and pain and pain.

Natalia lifts her spoon to her mouth.

You chew meditatively on your toast. You want her legs around your hips again, your head on her shoulder. You want to lie against her, within her, forever. “I’d like that,” you say. 

She smiles at you, relief dawning on her face.

She sits you down on the floor in the living room and switches the TV on. The punch bag is laid underneath the window like a sedan. Then she sits behind you, knees around your shoulders with a comb and a hairbrush and bends your hair to her will.

Natalia is gentle with you: always gentle. She pulls knots apart with her fingers, brushes your temple with her knuckles. 

“I remember this,” you tell her, and her hands still in the half-done braid. The TV twitters on. “This was one of the good memories.”

“One of the only ones,” she says softly. She carries on, twists and turns, locking your hair into itself. “You really remember this?”

“Only the concept,” you say. That at least is true: the braids are your memory, not the hands that made them, not the faces they framed.

“I braided your hair,” Natalia says, after a long pause. Far too casual. “You wouldn’t let anyone else touch it. Except for Kira.”

“Except for Kira,” you echo. You don’t remember Kira. You don’t want to ask: some sickening part of you imagines broken bones and blood in the snow. Natalia finishes the plait and gathers up the rest of your hair.

She pauses.

She tugs lightly on your hair and you tip your head back obediently, until your crown is in her lap and she’s staring down at you. Your neck stretches and strains.

Natalia leans down and kisses you, a touch more like a steal. You reach as far as you can to kiss her again, but she withdraws and pushes your head back up.

Her fingers card gently through your remaining hair, gathering three strands. “You don’t have to remember if you don’t want to,” she says quietly. “God knows I’d rather be ignorant.”

“I’m not ignorant,” you reply. You watch the TV move and flicker with dazed eyes. “I remember the pain. I remember that I don’t want to go back. Anymore.” You’ve dragged yourself from the mud: no, she did. She rescued you.

“I know,” Natalia says. She strokes your cheek with her thumb and you lean into her touch. “I’m grateful for you.”

requests | masterlist

taglist: @when-wolves-howl @fayhar @maggieromanov @transbi-spidey @romanoffscottage @blackxwidowsxwife @lizlil @screechcat @maddess @mellxa @haeva @diaryoflife @natashasilverfox @vicmc624 @strangegardentaco @phantomvael @lorsstar1st @rysnwilder @ima-gi–na-tion @paryl @picnicmic  @smallestavenger @lainjupi   @d1s0nym @simpforflorencepugh1 @the-v01d @kqmui @s1ut4nat @btay3115

notes: listen guys, I am so unmotivated right now. I’m so close to finishing TPTF and I’m so frustrated about this but here’s a little thing to keep you hooked. (also I linked my ko-fi in my bio if you felt like giving me money UNRELATED to fic writing because I am NOT MAKING MONEY OFF this, okay marvel?)

random OPF hcs because I can

| natasha x reader | only pretty faces |

warnings: the absence of correct grammar formatting. zero capitalisation because r is free so therefore i am free.

Keep reading

oooh what about soft!dark! bucky and nat with ballerina daughter reader?

warnings: INC3ST, dad!bucky x mom!nat x daughter!reader, groping, and breast play. NSFW

DO NOT READ if this offends or triggers you in the slightest, your media consumption is your own responsibility.

Natasha cocked her head at your form, her husband right beside her against the walls of mirror.

She shook her head and huffed. “Turn your other feet a bit more outwards, sweetheart. It’s too inwards.”

You frowned, inching your left feet out in order to fulfil your mom’s demands. You had to. The dance was to be perfect. Of course, you were the Swan Lake, it had to be perfect no matter what. Your mom had been the Swan Lake when she was your age, it was your turn.

This year, both your parents were just in involved in your training and as Natasha shook her head at your failed attempt to fix your feet, she sighed.

“Let’s take a break. We’ll go over this section again tomorrow.” Your frowned turned into a pout when Natasha shook her head. Your eyes went from your mom to the older man beside her, your father’s eyes soft and gentle as he started making his way towards you.

His large arms, wrapped around your shoulder, he towers over you like some giant over a dwarf. “You’re too harsh on her, Tasha.” Your father swayed you in his arms as he held you, arm moving over to your stomach.

“She needs the practice, James.” The redhead inched towards the two of you and soon the pout on your bitten lips disappeared just as your mother ran her knuckles along the apples of your cheek.

“I’m sure she’ll be the best white swan out there.”

You giggled when Bucky dipped his head in the crook of your neck, your eyes settled on your mother’s pursed lips as your father peppered kisses all over your fragile skin.

“I have no doubt.” She said, head tilting gently as she watched the scene unfold. Her husband’s hand splayed over the flat plans of your tummy, while the other travelled further up as Bucky cupped your breast through your leotard. “I just want the very best for you.”

“I know, Mama...” Your head lulled back, eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of your father’s groping hand. You tried to focus but instead, you melted when Natasha’s hand dipped between your legs and under the mesh skirt to rub your cunt through your leotard.

The older woman chuckled, her lashes heavy as she looked up and saw her husband sucking hickeys on the skin of your collarbone while pinching the pebbled nipples through your shirt.

“Just relax, sweetheart.”

Bucky nipped at your neck, while Natasha’s hand was relentless as she hooked the gusset of your body suit to the side.

“You deserve it.”

black widow but it’s just chaos

(or: yelena belova being a child for 7 minutes straight)

Happy Birthday! ❤️🥰

Aw thank you! :)💕

MY LITTLE MEOW MEOW 💌