natasha romanoff x fem!reader one-shots

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐥 💋

a/n: (requested) y/n has pregnancy brain; if you remember that part in 'juno' where they look at apartments — that is where this chapter picks up

warning: contains smut

An oversized shirt, nothing underneath, and a cup of instant noodles in your hand. It's quiet in your dorm. Outside, the sun is just coming up.

You count the minutes. Finally, Natasha bursts into your dorm in nothing but shorts and an undershirt, her hair curly at the ends and her eyes showing just how little she's been sleeping.

"What's the emergency?", she asks, dropping off a backpack and kicking off her sneakers. "Are you eating noodles?"

"Blob got hungry", you say, padding to her side. You kiss her cheek. She smells like the body wash she stole from Clint that time you hooked up in his bathroom. "Where were you last night?"

Natasha seems to shrink when you ask her that. She's a good head taller than you, yet she could just as well be a few inches shorter. When you raise your eyebrows at her, she nearly combusts.

Breathless and sweating even more now, she rubs the back of her head. "You were asleep, I was all sweaty from practice, it was like 2am when we got home from-"

"Okay."

She starts panicking even more. She didn't even do anything — her team went to a local fast food spot after practice. They grabbed burgers and beer, blasted music in the car (still sweaty and gross), drove back to their dorms and sat on the stairs for another ten minutes. Her record, at least the one from last night, is spotless. Yet, she's trying to talk her way out of a situation that never occurred.

"I missed you", she adds. You roll your eyes and turn around, drinking the leftover broth before throwing the empty cup away. "How's the baby?"

"Being a little shit. I slept four hours last night. I ate a family sized bag of chips."

Natasha quickly glances at the trash can. Chester Cheetah is grinning at her, crumpled up and surrounded by the color baby blue.

"That's fine. Good. You treated yourself", she says, coming up behind you. Her hands cup your stomach.

Your bump is just starting to show — though it's still tiny, so nobody really notices. Natasha, however, could tell the second it started to curve just a little more.

You scoff, but lean into her anyway. Her hands push up the thin fabric of your shirt to settle on your bare, warm skin. She tugs you closer and you feel her bulge through her sweatpants. Morning wood. She probably tried to get rid of it, but failed due to you texting her 'SOS'.

"Not good." You pause, then put your hands on hers. "Did you get an email?"

Natasha's distracted. Her face is nuzzling your neck, kissing and sucking occasionally. Her fingers start rubbing your stomach. It's annoying, to say the least, especially because the morning sickness is finally gone — instead, your libido is in overdrive. You curse quietly.

"Nat!"

"What?", she mutters. She puts her chin on your shoulder and squints at the mess on your desk. "Jesus. You need to tidy up a bit."

"Did you get an email?", you repeat, ignoring what she said.

Confused, she glances at you. "What email?"

"You know", you say, trying to remember the name of the landlord, "Mr. Noodle."

She doesn't burst out laughing. Instead, her entire body shakes with the effort of keeping it in. Her biceps flex against your sides, and her cheeks turn red from stifling her laughter.