#NAT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GO TO SLEEP-

[neptunecaptains]

In The Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You're finding it difficult to sleep in your new home. Bucky knows how to fix it.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), oral sex (f receiving; I like a giver), fingering, defiling a kitchen.

A/N: This is from a long time ago... was just going through fics I wrote when I used to love the MCU and came across this one. If there's anyone on here from way back then, it might sound familiar. Imagine this to be set in some multiverse where Steve never left in Endgame and everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. Hope you enjoy!

Previous Fic (masterlist coming soon!)

♡♡♡♡

The clock’s just gone ten past twelve when he feels you slip out of bed.

Bucky shouldn’t know that— the time. He should be dead to the world, asleep in the comfort of his bed with his girl warm by his side, full and sated and happy thanks to good company, good food, and even better liquor that can actually do something to him. Instead, he’s hyper-aware and questioning why you wouldn’t be dead asleep too and, before he knows it, he’s following in your footsteps.

It’s jarring, being awake at this hour in a mostly-empty home.

The halls feel too narrow and you still haven’t put the pictures up so the walls look bare and cold, and the dining table is missing a leg so you had to have dinner on the couch but you couldn’t find the box with the cushions which, now that Bucky thinks about it is probably still at the compound and god that means he has to go up there again— 

“Hey,” he hears, whisper-soft and cautious.

For a moment Bucky feels like maybe you’re the one who woke up to go after him, like how you used to do so long ago, worried about things neither of you could control. But no, it’s him, looking for you.

It’s him, finding you tired and rumpled in front of the stove, the red kettle Nat gave you as a gift steaming away on the burner. With the lights dimmed you look like a dream, but then again you look like that at any time of the day.

Bucky’s hands find your hips easily, skin and metal brushing over soft skin and worn cotton. They slip beneath your sleep shirt, a faded old thing he got as a gag gift some Christmases ago— Sam still asks him about the vulgar print on the front. Bucky tries to forget, but you never let him. Especially not on nights you wear the damn thing to bed.

He finds warmth, the same kind that should be next to him in bed right now, which— “Can’t sleep?”

You sigh, melting easily into the embrace. Your nose is cold, colder than it has any right to be with the heat on, nuzzling against the rough scratch of hair along his jaw. “Feels weird.”

It does— the house. Well, home, now, filled with your clothes and your furniture and the dishes you put in the dishwasher after your friends left a few hours ago because our first meal in our new home can’t be in paper plates, Buck and I already took the glasses out of the box, baby and he’s never been good at saying no. The house feels weird and he can’t wait until it doesn’t, with the pictures up, and the throw blanket on the couch, and those damn cushions he can’t believe he forgot.

“Bet you’d feel better back in bed,” Bucky murmurs, smiles, lips soft against the skin of your neck. “With me.”

You hum, could be a snort if it were any time except almost one in the morning and if you hadn’t spent the whole day hauling boxes and building whatever furniture you could before exhaustion won out. “I just put the kettle on.”

Bucky looks at the offending piece of kitchenware over your shoulder, willing it to somehow set on fire but wait, no. That would be very, very bad. Bucky has a mortgage now, shit.

“Okay,” he says instead, shrugging. “We’ll wait.”

He doesn’t notice the time. Instead, he notices your palms on his cheeks and your thumbs over his cheekbones; the way you taste of mint and something else, something like cloves and honey, no doubt from the sips you stole from his drink during the moving-day-turned-housewarming. He notices the way you sink into his body, held up by his arms caging you against the counter behind you, moaning softly at the wet sweeps of his tongue against the seam of your lips, parting under the pressure.

Bucky grips the countertop a bit too hard, gritting his teeth as he breaks the kiss. “How long ‘til that thing goes off?”

“We’re not defiling our kitchen so soon,” you laugh into his lips, sweet. The hands on his cheeks pull his face further away until you’re squinting up at him, lips spit-slick and shiny in the low light delighted and knowing all the same. “This is where we eat—”

“And I’m hungry,” Bucky grins, wicked, matches your own expression if only a bit dirtier. “Might as well use it for what it’s for, right?”

This time you do snort, forehead resting against his own. The sound settles deep in Bucky’s bones, spreading all over his body in places he didn’t know he had, warm and buzzing like a beehive. “You’re so gross.”

He is. He really, really is and he blames it all on himself and on you and the way you sigh into his mouth when he gets his hands above the swell of your ass, one of his thick thighs slipping between your own, warmth seeping everywhere you touch him. He blames it on those pretty eyes and that pretty mouth, those hands tugging at the bottom half of his hair that’s untied, that sweet voice moaning into the night when he nips at that spot behind your ear— 

“Baby.”

"Bucky," you laugh softly, glancing at him. It’s near-dark, the lights still dimmed, but he swears he can map out the marks on your skin, can count every single lash on your eyelids.

"Baby," he replies in the same tempting tone, watching your eyes with his own, so clear and expressive, so stunning.

You sigh, resigned. Bucky doesn’t even try to hide his grin.

“We’re gonna have to clean in the morning.”

“Guess I’ll have to suffer,” he says, hands warm on your thighs hauling you onto the counter.

He’s gentle as he parts your thighs, takes his time kissing the inside until you’re sighing all breathy and sweet, trembling on both sides of his head. Fingers hooking onto gray cotton, he slides your panties down your legs, bringing you closer to the edge of the counter and towards his mouth.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, eyes so blue when they flick up to your own.

Your hands slide into his hair, fingers tugging gently at the hair tie holding the longest strands back. Your lips part in a smile, wavering slightly at the edges as he ducks in, tongue soft and wet against your heat. He licks a broad stripe along your folds, takes in the way you shake almost imperceptibly— only knows it happens because he’s looking for it.

Bucky drinks you in, picks you apart with his tongue and his fingers, wet along his lips, his jaw, and his flesh fingers. He makes it messy, lets you whine and wail into your otherwise quiet home, grinding your hips onto his face and the two digits plunging inside your cunt, stroking that sweet spot deep inside.

You come apart on his tongue, slowly and quietly, a breathy gasp and the rhythmic clench of your muscles against his fingers the only warning he gets before he feels even more wetness pooling on his tongue, dripping down his palm.

“Oh!”

He kisses at the inside of your thighs, leaves it wet and sticky as you come down from your high. His thumbs caress your hipbones, feeling the slight quiver of your core against his touch, reveling in it.

To his right, the kettle starts whistling.

“Water’s boiling, honey,” he murmurs, nipping at the sensitive skin in the crease of your thighs.

You groan, fingers tugging at the hair tangled in them. “I hate you.”

Bucky laughs, throaty and with his chest, slightly loud at a time where the night seems to stand still. There’s only the rush of your breath and the whistle of the kettle, drawn-out and cut off as he turns the burner off and moves it onto a cold, unused one. He gravitates between your thighs once more, lips on yours like magnets. He kisses you slowly, takes his time and lets you bite at his bottom lip, slipping your tongue against his and pulling those sounds from his throat that play in your head like your favorite song.

“You think you’ll be able to sleep now?”

You sigh deeply, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. “You’re gonna have to carry me to bed.”

Bucky feels it spread from the top of his head down to his toes, fingers on your waist curling into fabric and skin. It’s hot and cold, bad and good. He feels it.

“Anywhere you want, sugar.”

Happiness.

[sceletaflores]

SINK IN ME WITH YOUR DOG TEETH!

ೃ⁀➷ pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

ೃ⁀➷ wc: 7.0k

ೃ⁀➷ contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, feral nasty unhinged logan yes god, logan only slightly losing his humanity but like it’s a lot less sad than it sounds, maybe some toxic relationship dynamics but who cares it’s porn, predator/prey dynamics, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, HEAVY scent kink (like don’t make me say it…but beware of some very subtle armpit stuff), pain kink, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, blood, so much come and come talk, creampie, squirting, this is just gross, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

ೃ⁀➷ nat's note: hi…hi y’all…so here’s the winner of the poll and i need everyone to just hear me out for a second! walk with me! this is probably the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, like omg those tags. this upsetting depravity was inspired by this post by @stupidfuckingwindow and this post by @monimccoythings which both altered the chemical balances of my brain so fiercely i blacked out for a while and when i came to this was in front of me. merry christmas and happy holidays! take this not at all christmas themed fic as my present to you my precious angels. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

you notice a strange shift in logan...

There’s something off with Logan.

The changes were subtle, but you’ve been with him long enough now to pick up on them. And while he's always had a raw, untamed edge to him, a sort of wildness simmering just beneath the surface, this feels different.

It started with the way he would go quiet for longer than usual, like his mind was too far away for you to reach—lost to somewhere distant.

Logan has always been quiet, but this was a different kind of silence. Conversations that used to flow with ease now hang in the air, unfinished. All of his responses reduced to nothing but low grunts and clipped words.

And he was more territorial over you, so much more.

His hand has started to linger at the small of your back or the curve of your waist for a lot longer when you’re in public, his strong grip firm enough to remind you—and anyone nearby—that you’re his.

He would fume at even the slightest hint of someone else's interest in you, a low warning growl escaping his throat to anyone who spared you a second glance.

It wasn’t just the physical closeness, though. It was also in the way Logan has started to watch you—his sharp gaze a never ending constant. An all imposing, heavily looming shadow.

There were even times late at night when you thought he was asleep, that you’d find him staring at you in the dark.

Not the usual, protective gaze he’d have when he thought you were vulnerable, but something deeper, more intense. His breathing would be slow, measured, but there was this energy, this tension that hummed between the two of you.

The nights he did manage to sleep, he’d hold you close to him, his grip iron-tight, his face buried in your hair. If you tried to shift away, even for a second, he’d stir, his arms pulling you back with a quiet, possessive growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

There were bite marks on your neck when you'd wake up, small enough to pass off as nothing—at least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, but each one felt like a brand. They were deeper, more deliberate.

Then there was the scent—his scent.

You swear it’s gotten stronger, more potent. It clings to you like a second skin, lingering in your clothes, your sheets, even your hair. An intoxicating blend of leather and pine and musk that makes your head spin.

Each time you left the house without him, he’d pin you to the mattress and rub himself all over you before begrudgingly let you walk out the door. His hands or his face running along the delicate skin of your neck, of your stomach, of your wrists.

Everywhere.

He was claiming you in ways—new ways—that left you both exhilarated and confused.

There were other things too, smaller but no less odd things that were starting to add up.

More and more of your clothes have slowly started to go missing over the past few weeks. Each morning when you open any of your dresser drawers, it seems like there are less and less filling them.

Shirts, shorts, socks, bras, panties. All things you’ve found shoved under his side of the mattress or tucked under his pillow. The most memorable hiding place was the front pocket of his leather jacket, your favorite pair of panties haphazardly stuffed inside.

You haven’t said anything about it yet, unsure if you should be concerned or amused.

It isn’t like he’s truly hurting anyone.

He’s just acting…strange.

A part of you can’t help but be drawn to it—the new intensity, the new rawness. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he clings to you, like you're his anchor in a world constantly shifting beneath his feet.

You’ve seen Logan at his worst—bloody, broken, and lost. But this? It’s never been like this before.

Whatever it is, it has its claws in him deep, and by extension, you.

You just got home from a run, barely walking through the door and kicking your shoes off when a call of your name rings out from the bedroom.

Logan’s tone stops you in your tracks—low and rough, like gravel crunching underfoot.

Your reaction is nearly instant, breath hitching in your chest, heart skipping a beat as a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature outside starts to pulse through you steadily.

It’s like you’ve become reprogrammed to respond to him this way, your body reacting before your mind can even catch up as his deep, familiar voice rolls over the sweaty expanse of your skin.

You drop your bag at your feet and slowly make your way to the bedroom, a bead of sweat trailing down your temple as you push the door open.

All the curtains are closed, the only light in the room a yellow glow that shines from your bedside lamp. 

Logan is sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his palms, but there’s nothing casual about his posture.

His gaze is locked on you, dark and intense, tracking every step you take, like a lion stalking a gazelle as it drinks from a watering hole.

“Didn’t tell me where you were going.” His eyes gleam as the lamp’s rays reflect off of them, his pupils dilated so he can see you better in the darkness that shrouds your room.

You swallow hard, trying to be as nonchalant as you can as your feet carry you to your dresser. “I went for a run,” you reply, your voice a little too steady, a little too casual.

You tug open the top drawer, rifling around for a clean shirt with a little more focus than necessary to distract yourself from the way his eyes burn a hole into your back.

“You didn’t tell me,” Logan repeats, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know I don’t like it when I don’t know where my girl is.”

There’s a sharp edge to his words, but it’s not anger—it’s something far more primal.

The energy in the room crackles like a storm about to break, and you feel it in your bones, in the way your skin prickles under his gaze.

"I was only gone for an hour," you say, your voice measured, careful. "You were still asleep when I left, I didn’t want to wake you." 

You chance a glance over your shoulder, and the sight of him steals the air from your lungs.

Logan hasn’t moved an inch from his perch on the edge of the bed, but the sheer force of his presence keeps you rooted in place, heart hammering in your chest.

“Hmm, that’s real sweet, baby,” he drawls, sitting up straighter now, leaning forward.

The motion makes him seem larger somehow, shoulders broad and imposing in the dim light. His tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, and the way his gaze rakes over you feels like a physical touch, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Your fingers still in the drawer, fabric slipping from your grasp as your pulse pounds in your ears. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him, caught in the snare of his sharp, predatory focus.

You turn slowly, arms falling to hang limply at your sides. "I wasn't gone long."

Logan tilts his head, a low, amused sound rumbling in his chest as he rises to his feet with a fluid, deliberate ease that makes your stomach flip.

“Didn’t feel that way to me, darlin’.” His voice is a deep, gravelly purr. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Felt like forever.”

His eyes never leave yours as he crosses the room, the green completely swallowed by the dark black of his pupils as they seep into the color like oil spilling out over the surface of a lake.

You’ve never seen him like this before, so hungry.

"Logan," you say slowly, back pressed tightly against your dresser. "You're really starting to freak me out." 

Logan hums idly, head cocked to the side as he watches you. "I can hear your heartbeat." 

His tone is calmer now, but there’s still a dangerous edge to it, like a knife pressed just lightly enough against the skin not to break it.

Your pulse races, heat simmering in your stomach despite the slight edge of fear clawing its way through your chest.

He stops in front of you, so close that his scent invades your senses strong enough to make your knees feel like they’re about to buckle beneath you.

“There’s nothin’ to be scared of baby,” he mutters quietly, thick arms coming up to cage you against the dresser. 

Your hold on the wood tightens, your knuckles turning white with the strength of your grip.

It’s almost chemical, the way you can feel your body start to give in to him. The thought fills you with as much arousal as it does unease, a heady combination that churns in your stomach.

You muster up enough will to breathlessly nod in agreement, a quiet submission.

Logan’s lips quirk into the faintest smirk, his heavy gaze dipping to the curve of your neck, lingering on the rapid flutter of your pulse. “That’s my good girl.”

Any words you might say get caught in your throat as you stare up at Logan, wide eyed and steadily leaking wetness into the gusset of your panties. 

His nostrils flare, and a knowing sound rumbles from somewhere dark and low in his chest as his eyes flutter shut on a deep inhale.

Your thighs clench together instinctively, the overwhelming need to be filled wracking through your body like thunder.

When Logan opens his eyes again, there’s no trace of anything but pure animal need. The muscles in his jaw working furiously under his skin in time with the strain of his forearms still caging you in place.

“Yeah…” he trails off slowly, tone both condescending and soothing all at once. “I know you’re not all that scared, honey.”

He leans in, tearing a small whimper from your throat at the way his beard scrapes against your cheek as he crowds you.

His breath fans over the shell of your ear, hot and enticing as they brush against your skin when he speaks again. “I can smell how fuckin’ wet you are.”

Logan’s words send a sharp jolt through you, a broken moan falling from your parted lips as your cheeks heat up so fiercely it’s as if you’ve been slapped.

Your body moves without thinking, pressing up into his hard, unyielding frame like you can’t help it—and maybe you can’t.

“L–Logan…” Your voice trembles, a weak thing that dissolves in your throat as he noses along the skin of your neck.

His hands come down to rest on your waist, palms rough and possessive and warm and a perfect fit where they lay over your curves, anchoring you in place.

“Shhh.” His lips trail down your jaw, leaving wet kisses in their wake. “You don’t gotta say a thing, princess. I know what you need.”

Logan’s hands slip lower, cupping the backs of your thighs with ease before hoisting you onto the dresser like you weigh nothing. The sharp edge of the wood digs into your legs, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about the discomfort.

Your hands go to his shoulders without much of a second thought, nails digging into corded muscle as you try to keep your balance. 

Logan’s hands stay on your thighs, his grip strong enough for you to feel the power behind them without hurting you.

He noses along your sweaty skin like a hot-tempered hound, desperately inhaling greedy lungfuls of your scent wherever he can get it.

Behind your ear, in the crook of your neck, along your collarbone, the exposed swell of your breasts, dangerously close to your underarm.

He groans against your shoulder, a full body shiver jolting his frame. “Smell so fuckin’ good darlin’, drives me goddamn crazy.”

You can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a response. His mouth finally finds yours, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.

Logan's tongue slides against yours, a messy, desperate kiss that has you moaning into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.

It’s filthy, fueled by nothing but raw need and desperation. Spit drips from your chin to trail down the length of your throat until it gathers in the valley of your breasts. Whether it’s his or yours, it doesn’t matter.

It’s a perfect mix of the both of you, lewd and messy in the way it claims your skin.

Logan breaks the kiss with a low moan, his chest heaving the same as yours as you both inhale harsh lungfuls of air.

His lips are red and raw, swollen in a way that your own must mirror. A string of saliva keeps you connected, drooping thinner and thinner in the space between you until it breaks under the weight of gravity.

Logan doesn’t give you long to catch your breath. His lips trail down your jaw and latch onto the sensitive spot just below your ear, teeth scraping against skin before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. 

Your head falls back against the wall as his mouth moves lower, dragging the strap of your sports bra down with his teeth.

The way he’s acting—like a man crazed, like he needs you more than he needs air—has you dizzy with need. But there's a part of you that’s still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, to hold onto something familiar in the chaos.

It’s only then that you realize this may be a bad idea. 

Whatever this is, is clearly an accumulation of all the things you’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks.

Maybe indulging Logan will only make things worse, like giving in to him when he’s in such a state could be the tipping point to a much deeper and all consuming issue buried somewhere inside of him.

It can’t possibly be healthy for him to act like this, and it can’t be healthy for you to bask in it as much as you are.

“W–wait.” Your thighs slip shut, hands coming up to push at Logan’s shoulders weakly.

There’s no real force behind your ministrations and you keep your neck bared to him all the while, but he stops anyway, rearing back with a displeased noise. 

His face hovers inches from yours, and for a moment, you swear he looks almost pained—his brows furrowing, jaw tightening as though reigning himself in is a Herculean effort.

His hands remain on your thighs, trembling slightly as he keeps himself rooted in place, clearly fighting every instinct roaring through him to just take what he wants.

“You don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, a stark contrast to the restraint in his expression. His thumbs stroke idly against your skin, his touch soothing even as his words drip with pure, feral confidence. “I can smell the way your pussy’s achin’ for it. I can feel it. You’re shakin’ for me.”

You are—your whole body feels like it’s on the verge of unraveling under his touch, your resolve crumbling faster than you’d like to admit.

Everything you were going to say gets clogged in your brain on the way out, leaving you silent as you hold his gaze.

You don’t even have the capability to feel embarrassed at the way you blanch, lost in the way his scent attacks your senses, in the rough drag of his palms over your bare thighs, in the way your lips still tingle from his kiss.

Logan sighs, long and all suffering as his hands come to rest on both of your shut knees. The impatient raise of his brow paired with the dissatisfied curl of his lips is enough to shake you to the core.

“Now, you gonna show it to me?” His fingers drum along your knee, his patience thinning. “Or am I gonna have to make you.”

And it may sound like one, but you know it’s not a question. 

It’s a choice.

Your mind races, hands clenching and unclenching on Logan’s shoulders as you weigh your options. His own hands squeeze your knees, just hard enough to let you feel it in your bones.

You spread your legs.

Logan doesn’t waste a second, dropping to his knees in front of you with a satisfied rumble and a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them even wider. Wide enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable in the best way. 

Your head dips, chin falling to your chest as you watch the way Logan takes up the space between your legs. Your shorts are soaked, fabric so drenched that it’s melded to the shape of your cunt, your puffy folds on display for his greedy eyes.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes, his voice cracking like a whip in the quiet room. His hands find your waistband, and the dull sound of fabric ripping rings out.

The sturdy cotton tears like tissue paper in his hands, the scraps of your shorts falling carelessly to the floor, leaving you in nothing but the light blue panties you slipped on before your run. 

The way he gazes at the space between your thighs is feral, unrestrained, like he’s a man starving for his next meal—and you’re it.

“Look at that…” Logan mutters, almost to himself as he runs his knuckle along the wet cotton of your panties. His touch is featherlight, barely any pressure at all, but it’s enough.

Your breath hitches, a sharp intake of air at the teasing touch, and your hips instinctively cant forward, silently begging for more. 

Logan's eyes flick up to yours, a dark smirk curling his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you—and how much you're already falling apart.

“Eager fuckin’ thing,” he drawls, voice rough with arousal. He leans forward, his hot breath ghosting over your soaked panties, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “You want me to give your pussy some kisses, baby?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words never make it out. Logan’s lips press against the damp fabric, placing a kiss right over where your covered clit throbs with need.

Your head falls back to rest on the wall behind you, a shocked moan bursting from your lips.

“Logan.” His name is pulled from your mouth like a plea, but he doesn’t let up, the sharp edge of his teeth scraping over the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath the soaked barrier of your underwear.

“Hmm?” He hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. “Thought you wanted me to stop?”

The taunt is maddening, the rasp of his voice and the teasing flicks of his tongue combining to unravel you piece by piece. 

You shake your head furiously, thighs trembling where they rest on his broad shoulders. “N-no—don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Logan chuckles darkly, his hands sliding up your thighs to hook his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties. 

“That’s more like it,” he taunts. With a single, sharp tug, the ruined fabric joins the scraps of your shorts on the floor.

Logan groans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick with your juices and flushed with arousal. His mouth waters, his tongue running along the sharp points of his canines in anticipation.

You’re already so ready for him.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he growls, leaning in to drag his nose along the slick seam of your folds. The deep inhale he takes is obscene, sending a ripple of anticipation through your entire body. “Know that you taste even better.”

Logan licks a broad stripe through your folds, groaning like the taste of you is enough to satisfy him completely. His hands grip your thighs tighter, keeping you spread and utterly at his mercy as he begins to work in earnest.

He alternates between laving the tip of his tongue over your clit and dipping down to fuck into you, his beard scraping along the skin of your thighs in a way that’s almost too much. Your head falls back, hitting the wall with a soft thud as your vision blurs.

“God, Logan.” You squirm on the vanity, but he holds you steady, growling low and deep into your core like your moaning only spurs him on.

“That’s it,” he mutters between licks, his words unmistakably smug. “Make those pretty little sounds for me, baby.”

Logan circles your clit with the flat of his tongue, alternating between firm, deliberate strokes and light, teasing flicks that leave you gasping for air.

You cry out, fingers tangling in his thick, unruly hair as he repeats the motions, your thighs starting to tremble on either side of his head.

Every time your hips buck against him, he growls, the vibrations of it sinking into your skin and amplifying the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Stay still,” he orders, his voice muffled against your dripping core but no less commanding. His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place with an unrelenting grip. “You’re not in charge, sweetheart.”

You whimper, your whole body trembling as you fight the urge to grind against his face. But it’s impossible to stay still when he’s licking into you like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with an intensity that has your vision going hazy.

“I know, you're just so damn needy, aren’t you, baby?” He drawls , pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal. “You love this, hmm? Lettin’ me take care of you?”

You can only nod, words failing you as his fingers replace his mouth, sliding through your spit soaked cunt.

“You’re so goddamn pretty down here.” Logan mutters, almost to himself, spreading your puffy, abused folds obscenely wide. 

He teases your entrance, fingertips dipping into your warm heat only to retract a second later. You whine, high and embarrassing as your hips twitch with want.

Logan watches your face closely, his expression equal parts smug and adoring as he finally sinks one thick finger inside you, curling it just right.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your head lolling back he adds a second finger, stretching you in a way that has your toes curling. He pumps them slowly at first, each deliberate thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.

“Takin’ me so well,” Logan murmurs, his thumb brushes over your clit, drawing tight circles that make your thighs tremble. “So tight and wet for me. You’re makin’ me crazy, darlin’.”

Your moans grow louder, unrestrained, as he picks up the pace, his fingers plunging into you with a rhythm that has your skin burning hotter and hotter.

Logan’s mouth returns to you with renewed fervor, tongue and lips working in perfect tandem as he drags you closer to the edge. 

He shakes his head back and forth like an animal, his nose rubbing up against your clit deliciously as buries his tongue as deep in your cunt as it’ll go. The coarse hair of his beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs red and raw.

You can’t think, can’t breathe, your entire world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you. 

“Logan—” Your voice cracks, your head falling back against the wall as the spring of pleasure inside you winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. “I’m—fuck—I’m so close—”

“Good,” he growls, pumping his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue. “I can feel you squeezin’ me. I want you to come for me, baby. Wanna taste every fuckin’ drop.”

You’re powerless to resist.

You cry out, thighs clamping shut on either side of his head as you come on his tongue. Your body shakes so violently you knock a few things off the vanity, the distant sound of glass shattering hardly registers. 

Logan growls, low and dragged from the back of his throat in such a way that makes it reverberate in the space between your legs. His own arms come up, grip strong and encouraging as he forces your legs around his head even tighter than before.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, licking and sucking and pumping his fingers to drag you through the aftershocks like a man obsessed. 

When you finally come back to yourself, panting and trembling, Logan’s holding your shaking thighs apart, his mouth still pressed to you in soft, languid strokes.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, voice rough and gravelly as he presses a final kiss to your oversensitive clit. 

Logan’s hands slide up to your hips, gripping tight as he rises to his feet, towering over you with that same dark, predatory gleam in his eyes. 

His lips are even redder than before, swollen and slick with your juices. His beard is damp and shining in the low light, and the smug, satisfied smirk on his face sends another pulse of heat through your already spent body.

“Good girl,” he purrs, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that’s all heat and possession. 

You can taste yourself on his tongue, the salt and musk mingling with the raw hunger. It’s filthy and intoxicating, and it leaves you gasping for air when he finally pulls away.

But Logan’s far from finished.

His hands slide under your ass, lifting you off the dresser with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries you to the bed and tosses you on it with little preamble.

Your back hits the mattress hard enough to have you bouncing on it once, twice, three times before Logan is crawling up to blanket your body with his. 

The heavy weight of his metal laced bones sink you into the soft plushness, keeping you stuck beneath him with nowhere to go.

Which you know is exactly where he wants you.

He slots his hips between yours, dragging the straining jut of his cock along your sensitive cunt. You can feel the warmth of him even through the thick material of his sweats, a scalding plane of heat that makes your cunt ache with need. 

You can feel the damp patch where his clothed tip nudges against your clit, and you know from that alone he’s already soaked through the cotton with pre-come. His cock leaking like a faucet in the harsh confines of his bottoms while he ate you out.

“Feel that?” Logan asks, voice hoarse as he buries his head in your neck. “That’s all ‘cause of you, baby. Got me drippin’ like I busted a damn pipe.”

The sharp intake of air you suck in at his words does nearly nothing to help your breathlessness, your desperation bleeding through as your frantic hands push at the waistband of his bottoms. “Off. Off.”

Logan huffs a rough laugh against your neck, his warm breath skating across your skin as his lips ghost over your pulse. “So fuckin’ bossy.”

He doesn’t move to help you, not right away, savoring the way your hands fumble and tug, your frustration bubbling over in breathy little gasps.

“You want it that bad, huh?” he teases, the rough timbre of his voice a stark contrast to the gentleness of his lips pressing along your jaw. “Look at you, so damn needy. Can’t even wait for me to get my cock out.”

You only tug harder, patience nonexistent as your fingers curl into the waistband. “Please, Logan. Don’t tease.”

“Alright, alright.” Logan finally gives in, sitting back just enough to push them over his hips, freeing his cock.

It springs free, slapping against his stomach heavy and slick with pre-come, the ruddy tip glistening in the low light.

The sight alone has you clenching around nothing, a devastatingly desperate noise falls from your lips as the ache between your thighs builds to an almost unbearable throb.

He makes quick work of ripping his shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it behind him before he’s back on you.

This time, when he bullies his hips in between yours, there's nothing separating you.

You feel every inch of his cock as it grinds along the seam of your cunt. The velvety skin is almost scalding as it drags against your own, the drool of pre-come only adding more to your own wetness.

Logan presses you into the mattress harder, rutting against your cunt almost desperately as he noses along your damp, overheated skin.

His mouth is everywhere. Sucking marks where the junction of your neck meets your shoulder, lapping up the sweat that pools in the valley of your breasts, licking a filthy stripe across the side of your face that has your cheeks burning.

He buries his nose in the sweaty skin of your underarm, whining and panting like a surly dog all over again. Each breath is hot and wet against you, and it only seems to make him hungrier, greedier. His cock blurts even more pre-come onto your skin with every inhale he takes.

It should gross you out. 

It should be utterly mortifying, but the sight of Logan like this only leaves you thrumming with want. 

His desperation, the raw, unfiltered way he takes you in—like he can’t get close enough, can’t have enough of you—has your pulse racing and your mind spinning out of control. 

You feel his nose press harder against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over you as he groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates right through you. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, voice gravelly and broken. “You smell so goddamn good. Can’t help it. Can’t fuckin’—” His hips jerk, the weight of his cock sliding slickly against your cunt, bumping up against your clit in a way that makes you shiver. 

“Logan,” you whimper, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the friction, the relief, the unbearable stretch you know only he can give you. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need you—need you so bad.”

He smirks, his lips curling against your skin as he nips at the curve of your jaw. “Need me, huh?” he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing. “Need my cock inside you, stretchin’ you open? Tell me, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.”

“So bad.” Your hips tilt up instinctively, desperate for him to push inside. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, the blunt pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Need you so bad it hurts. Please—please don’t make me wait.”

Logan growls, a feral sound. “Such a good girl when you beg for me.” he snarls, big hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise so he can flip you on your front, gently manhandling you until you're on all fours. “Gonna fill you up, princess.”

His hands knead the soft flesh of your ass as he lines himself up behind you. The weight of his cock presses against your entrance, slick and ready, and for a moment, he just stays there, teasing.

Your arms shake beneath you, elbows locked as you force yourself to stay still, patient.

The head of his cock nudges against you, spreading your slickness, and your body trembles in anticipation. He sinks himself into you in one deep, unrelenting thrust.

The stretch is instant, the burn delicious as he pushes inside, inch by inch, filling you in one fluid, devastating stroke. A choked gasp spills from your lips as he bottoms out, his cock seated so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“Fuck.” Logan stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he lets you adjust, but the restraint is fleeting. 

His hands glide up your back, palms rough and grounding as they map every curve, every quiver of your body. He starts grinding his hips in slow circles, pressing every inch of his cock along your velvety walls. 

Your head drops between your arms, brows pinched together as you take in greedy lungfuls of air. You’ll never get used to this, the way Logan fills you so perfectly, no matter how many times it’s been.

“Come on, baby.” Logan leans down to press a soft kiss between your shoulder blades, his lips fever hot. “You wanted to fuck me so bad you could hardly wait. Now’s your chance, fuck me.”

It takes a few long seconds for his words to cunt through the molasses clouding your mind, the small thrust of his hips hinting at what he wants you to do.

You let out a pitiful whimper, hands digging into your bed’s puffy comforter as you start rocking your hips. 

You start slow, letting yourself build up a nice, steady rhythm as Logan purrs words of encouragement from behind you. His hands never leave your hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles over your skin as you start to pick up the pace.

“That’s it,” he encourages darkly, giving the rippling muscle of your ass a sharp swat. “Find the fuckin’ spot, baby. Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

You cry out at the sting of his palm, bouncing yourself on his length impossibly faster. Your arms burn under the strain of your movements, but you can’t stop chasing the high of pleasure that shoots up your spine.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, a lewd slap slap slap as you fuck yourself on Logan’s cock like he’s a replacement for the cheap suction cup dildo collecting dust in a box hidden away in your closet—like he’s nothing but a expertly shaped lump of silicon molded solely for your pleasure.

You can feel yourself getting close to the edge, and in nearly no time at all. The telltale coil buried deep in your belly winding tighter and tighter as you work yourself on Logan’s cock hard enough that the cheap frame of your bed thumps against the wall.

It might be embarrassing if you weren’t so far gone already, so fuck drunk that the too loud moans falling from your lips hardly phase you.

It's like there's nothing but the feel of Logan inside you, bumping against that spot inside you that has stars shining behind your closed eyes. 

“Close already?” Logan taunts from behind you, voice just the tiniest but breathless, but the way his cock pulses and jerks where it’s sheathed in your cunt lets you know he’s right there with you. “I know you are, honey. I can feel how she’s squeezin’ me, so damn tight.”

His hands dig into your hips, not even waiting for a response as he starts thrusting in time with your bounces. He pounds into you, hips snapping against your ass hard enough to sting.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come too baby,” he bites out, the rhythm of his hips getting sloppier. “Gonna come so fuckin’ hard, fill you up so good. Shit–”

Logan pulls out enough that only the thick tip of his cock stays sheathed in the warmth of your cunt, his body falling to hunch over yours as he pumps his come into you with a feral growl.

You whine at the feeling of his release filling you, painting your insides with spurt after spurt of thick come. It’s so much, it’s always so much. A rush of warmth that floods your insides each time without fail.

And just like that, the feeling alone has you coming.

Your back arches as your cunt gushes over the tip of his cock, drenching his thighs and the rest of his shaft in your essence. You think you may scream, but it’s hard to tell over the white noise rushing through your ears.

Your arms finally buckle under you as Logan helps you ride out the last few tremors of your orgasm with a few slow rocks of his hips, and your spent body collapses onto the mattress.

Logan’s low noises of pleasure barely register as your chest heaves almost violently, your lungs desperately trying to get as much air as they possibly can.

But you barely have time to catch your breath before Logan plants his knees back firmly on the mattress and starts thrusting, again. 

“Logan!” Your hands scramble for purchase on the mussed sheets of your bed, the overstimulation making your legs kick out frantically.

“You thought we were done?” Logan asks, his tone equal parts amused and mocking. “You popped twice already, baby. S’only fair that you let me catch up.”

With no warning, he takes you in his arms, pulling his cock out just long enough to flip you on your back. He throws your legs over his shoulders before plunging back inside your fucked open cunt with a filthy squelch. 

He feels even bigger like this, yet your body swallows his cock like it’s nothing. The spongy warmth of your walls melding to the shape of him like it’s what you were made for. 

The coarse hair of his happy trail drags across your clit each time he thrusts, adding to the blistering feeling where the knife's edge of too much too much too much meets not nearly enough.

His come stuffed in your trembling cunt only makes it all the more filthy, his cock plunging inside you and coming back out slick and wet on every thrust. 

Your lips fall open on a broken moan, eyes screwing shut as you work your cunt around him, feeling the way his release gets fucked deeper and deeper inside you.

Logan notices, of course he does.

A dark chuckle rumbles against your own as he leans down enough to whisper into your slack mouth. “You like havin’ someone come in your pussy, baby?”

You moan into his mouth unabashedly, loudly. Both of your eyes burning as tears threaten to fall down the flushed skin of your cheeks, your throat going dry and scratchy in the best way possible. 

“Shit–” Your hands claw at the rippling muscles of his back desperately, nails digging into his skin hard enough that you feel the unmistakable slickness of his blood coating the tips of your fingers.

The pain spurs him on, his head tips down on a low groan and his eyes squeezing together for a split second before he’s spewing filth again.

“You want some more?” Logan asks, tone going dark like he already knows the answer as his hips speed up impossible faster. “You want me to come again?”

You don’t respond, you can’t respond. You can barely make a coherent thought. 

All you can manage are whiny moans that fall from your slack lips, broken little uh uh uh’s that get punched out with each new thrust. Your nails rake down his back mercilessly, leaving behind deep red welts that heal as you go.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He turns his head to nip at the skin over the delicate bone of your ankle where it bounces near his head, sharp teeth digging in enough to have you whining pitifully. “You love havin’ a messy fuckin’ pussy, don’t you? Love being stuffed so full of my come you can’t even hold it all, huh?”

His words hit you like a physical blow, lighting up your body from the inside out. Your thighs shake where they’re wrapped around his hips, ankles locking over his lower back so he couldn’t pull out if he wanted to.

His come mixes with your juices to coat his cock, completely drenched all slick and shiny in the dull light of your bedroom. It drips down almost leisurely compared to the near feral snap of his hips, trailing all the way down his length to his heavy balls. 

“Yes.” He groans, reverent. “Give it to me, baby. Wanna feel you come on my cock again, feels so fuckin’ good. Can’t ever get enough—”

You’ve never heard him like this, so high of pleasure that his speech slurs and his words all meld together into one filthy stream of ramblings that has you sinking your nails even deeper into his back and coming on his cock with a loud wail.

Your cunt convulses around him, shaking with the force of your release, milking him. 

“Fuck, princess.” Logan pitches forward, his sweaty torso covering yours as he keeps fucking into your shaking body, desperately chasing his own release.

Finally, with a muted roar of your name, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin of your neck and comes for you.

You cry out at the sharp sting of his teeth bearing down hard enough to draw blood, your vision whiting out with the pleasure of being claimed in every way imaginable.

Logan’s hips only stop when he’s drained of every last drop, his body shaking where it lays over yours. He laps at the broken skin of your neck, a soft gesture that isn’t quite an apology for making you bleed—because you know that he isn’t sorry whatsoever—but it’s nice nonetheless.

Your arms come up to circle around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion hits you all at once. You get lost in the steady rhythm of Logan catching his breath, in the way his heart pounds against his ribcage where his chest is pressed to your own, in the way his fingers twitch and flex on your hips.

The last thing you hear as you drift off, his come starting to leak down your thighs in thick streams of white, is a hushed whisper of “I got you, baby. I’m right here, I’m always right here.”

It puts you at ease, all the worry you felt over the last few weeks slipping from your mind like grains of sand through your fingers.

Maybe, this new side of Logan isn’t so bad after all.

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[dillydally6969]

CROWNED² .ᐟ 𝓝AT SCATORCCIO

♱ fighting situationship!nat for the antler queen title, but her crown’s slowly slipping…

♱ cw; yj s3 spoilers, harsh language, angst, f!r, manipulative!shauna, pt. 1 linked at bottom

you remembered the first time nat kissed you.

it was on one of the very first hunting trips, when travis came down with some stomach bug after eating some raw bear meat. you and nat were left to continue your duties alone, and honestly you weren’t complaining.

nat was careful, kissing you like you were something delicate.

at first, the two of you would go further than you would route and just make out against a tree. but then, on a foraging trip you and jackie went on (in attempts to encourage the captain to help with chores she could actually do), you found a little creak behind this wall of bushes.

the next time travis was occupied with brother duty, you would bring nat to this haven, shielded from everything that was your tragic reality, shrugging off your--actually one of ben’s oversized--jacket and laying it on the ground for your lady.

the blonde would laugh at you, her sweet grin paired with that cute dimple of hers, and you swore you had never heard a more heavenly sound.

“you couldn’t wait to bust all this chivalrous shit out, huh?”

you shrugged, admiring the way her lips curved as she turned. her side profile was sculpted by the greek themselves, and you found your smile growing slowly as you ran your gaze.

“i wanted to do something nice for you. away from the others.”

she felt your intense eyes fixed on her, her chest tightened as she gulped. “really? you did all this for me?”

you noticed her hands quivered slightly. you reached out, fingertips dancing across her knuckles lightly. you held her hand up, weaving your fingers into hers.

“i wanted to see you smile,” you whispered, “worth it.”

her cheeks flushed, her eyes widening before she turned away with a scoff. “oh my god, you’re such a freak.”

you giggled at her comment. you fixed the loose blonde tufts sticking into her face, cradling her warm cheek in your hand. you tugged her close, glancing down at her plump, pink lips as your teeth sunk into your own.

“just your type, hm?” you whispered against her lips.

“mmh, i don’t know… wanna find out?” she teased, before leaning forward to press her soft lips against yours.

you sighed, pulling her close. sitting up, you threw a leg over her lap, straddling her before both hands reached up to clasp her jaw. her mouth moved into yours feverishly, hungry and needy. her slender fingers anchored your hips, your body pressed flushed against hers.

“oh god, i love you--!” she gasped, but the way she pulled back told you she was just as stunned by the sudden confession as you were.

when you don’t respond, she began stammering.

“sorry, i--i was just caught in the moment. fuck, i’m so stupid.”

“no, no, nat, stop.” you grabbed her face, kissing her forehead, then her nose, then lingered on her lips. when you pulled away, you rested your forehead against hers. “i love you too.”

you can’t remember the last time she told you she loved you.

you can’t remember the last time she showed she loved you.

it’s been about competing with nat ever since she took over lottie’s title. you missed her. god, you missed her so much.

you would give anything up if it meant getting to just let her lull you to sleep with her deep voice without her spewing nonsense about the logistics of keeping morale high.

“y/n--y/n!” a single clap in front of your face seemed to do the trick, slapping you out of your daydream.

you glanced up, met with tai’s curious expression.

“hello? you’re the one who suggested a trial, what the fuck are we supposed to do?” she jeered, hands on her hips as she looked down at you. “what’s going on, man? you’ve been spaced for like an hour.”

sat at the table, you looked at your untouched dinner, pushing the bowl away from you.

“nothing, i’m just tired.” you muttered in reply.

“okay, whatever--coach has been sitting with the ducks and deers since sundown. what do we do now?”

you raised an eyebrow. “why aren’t you asking nat? she’s the antler queen, she’s the one in charge, not me.”

tai crossed her arms, sighing. “nat hid the fact she knew where coach was, you think she’s gonna make this a fair trial?” you gulped, knowing she had a point had never felt so bitter before. “i trust you’ll make this just and impartial, and so do the rest of us, so will you please get this shit going?”

you looked past tai’s body, spotting nat sitting by the fire.

her nail-beds bled from her fervent picking, her eyes grown cold and still as she stared at the roaring fire.

you stood, nodding towards tai. “gather everyone. it’s coach’s judgement day.”

as the taller scurried off to round up everybody, you watched the blonde from afar. slowly, you sauntered over, taking a seat beside her with a deep sigh. “you’re mad at me. you’re doing that gwyneth paltrow sulky thing you do.”

the blonde didn’t move a muscle. her cheekbones popping as she contained the violent sob that threatened to escape her.

“i’m not mad at you. i’m disappointed in your decisions.”

you scoffed, resting your elbows against your thighs. “come on, nat, you’re being unfair.”

“i told you my feelings on the matter, and i thought you understood.”

“look, i know you think he’s innocent, but there’s just--!”

“i thought you were different. i trusted you to make the right choices, but this,” she scoffed, “whatever circus you think you’re running here, i don’t want any fucking part of it.”

“oh my god, when will it be enough for you?” you snapped, startling her. “y’know, i say yes and do what you tell me to. i hunt this and gather that because you want me to. i was the only one in your corner when nobody was and this is the kinda treatment i get? i do something i believe is right once and you’re ‘disappointed’? holy shit, get over yourself, natalie, i’m not your fucking minion, i am my own person too.”

staring back at you, her lips parted, waiting in bated breath for your next words.

you ripped the bandana from your belt where it was tucked, tying it again over your head. you stood, snarling down at her. “maybe if you weren’t so obsessed with being the fucking chief, you would actually see what i’m trying to do.”

oh, that stung. that stung bad. she hated getting yelled at, it triggered some bad feelings for her, but coming from you? it just made her want to cry herself to permanent slumber.

the others had begun gathering around the fire, per tai’s instruction. from a humble distance, shauna mentally noted the way your conversation with nat had ended.

“y/n?” tai called, squeezing to the front. “well?”

“it should be two-thirds.” nat sighed, standing to the side as you helped tai and some others create a table for the jury at the centre of camp, where the fire was supposed to be.

“two-thirds? that’s bullshit, it should be majority rules!”

“that’s more than fair, shauna,” nat hissed, “if you’ve ever, actually picked up a law book, you’d know criminal trials are supposed to be unanimous.”

“i’ll bash your skull in with a law book if you don’t--!”

“enough!” you yelled, slamming a hand against the wooden surface beneath you. all heads snapped towards you, including those preparing the judge’s chair from afar. “i’ve never known anybody more problematic. the two of you will be on your best behaviour for this trial, or you’re spending a week alone in the pits until you get along.”

everybody seemed rather taken aback by the aggressive edge to your outburst. you caught nat’s eyes, of all the pairs trained on you, and your jaw locked.

“i don’t care how important your roles are here, i don’t care what title you hold, i will cover all of it if it means we don’t have to hear the two of you fight.” you snarled, crossing your arms. “i’ve proposed this trial as a way to keep things fair. nat will get her will for coach to have a chance to be proven innocent, and shauna will get hers to prove him guilty. two-thirds is a middle ground, so that’s how we’ll let the jury rule. settled?”

the two of them reluctantly nodded. you exhaled shakily.

“good. neither of you are allowed anywhere near the stands, ‘cuz world war three will stir.”

a hand shot up from behind nat, you tilted your head to see tai’s determined expression. “i’ll run the prosecution no problem. the question is, who will defend coach scott?”

everybody deterred their gaze away from yours upon that query. you scanned the crowd, watching them awkwardly tousle around to avoid being called upon.

your eyes landed on a certain curly blonde taking minutes.

“misty’ll defend him.” you announced. everybody looked over.

“what? why’re you all looking at me?” she stammered.

“‘cause he’s your boyfriend?” van commented. she stifled a snort, “in your mind, at least. right?”

tai swatted her in the arm, and upon a stern look from you, she rescinded her snarky attitude.

“that’s not funny. and i’m not defending him.” she shook her head, glinting down at her notebook. “he’s not the ben i knew.”

“you have to, misty.” nat’s sharp response drew attention to her standing amidst the group. she cleared her throat, recognizing the snap back may have come off a little more pressing than she had intended. regaining her authority, nat held misty’s gaze. “i know how you feel. it sucks that he left, but you’re his best chance at a fair trial… maybe his only chance. if you can’t prove he’s innocent, he’ll lose anyway, but if you can… misty, you’ll save his life.”

you could hear it in her voice. she was desperate.

you wondered when along the way you became the one the girls turned to over nat. you could barely remember the times when she was actually respected as their regent.

you’ve called out more disrespect towards her in the last week than you ever have pre-crash. and that’s saying something.

shauna was blood-thirsty, desperate to satiate her hunger for chaos. this was the closest she could get to bloodshed, and she had her fangs dug into the coach, unwilling to let go.

she was so blinded by her bloodlust, it clouded her rationale.

you knew nat had a heart of gold, how she deeply believed in the coach’s innocence unless some sort of evidence compelled her to accept otherwise.

but in a way, she wasn’t being fair either.

and knowing she used to be the most prudent person you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, stung. along with perhaps one of two of those who still adore nat, you might be the only ones left who honor the fact she was still queen.

“great, then it’s settled.” you clasped your hands together. “tai will prosecute and misty will defend. nat will be the judge, and the rest of us will make the jury.”

“nat? she’s gonna rule him not guilty without even listening,” shauna argued, resting on her arms against the table across from you. “she’s got her head so far up her ass, she won’t hear anything besides the fact that he’s innocent.”

“she’s the antler queen, shauna. do i have to remind you of your place?” you sneered.

“i hate to say this, but shauna has a point.” tai agreed, her hands on her hips. “i’m not saying nat shouldn’t be judge, she should. but i think you should be judging as well.”

you scoffed with a tiny smile, “thanks, but it’s not my place.”

“why not? it’s your trial.” van reinforced her girlfriend’s proposal. “who else thinks y/n should be a judge?”

one by one, hands shot up in vote of your crowning.

little did you know this gesture would foreshadow your fate.

“that’s pretty much two-thirds. that’s a fair majority, right?” she said before nat could protest. the blonde could not go against the people’s word. it was democracy that brought her to her dominion, after all. “great. let’s get this ball rolling.”

you knew the more your influence grew, the more your relationship with nat deteriorated.

when the others had gone to prepare their arguments and statements, the two of you were sent back to your hut to change into some robes akilah and robin had thrown together.

the silence was deafening. enough for you to regret the way you left things before you left for the hunt.

as you slipped on the cream gown, nat stood by the archway.

she had her hands on her hips, peering out towards the girls scrambling in groups for this little event. you tied the rope around your waist, sighing deeply.

“i’m sorry.”

the blonde looked down, swallowing thickly. though, she stood still, unwilling to turn and face you.

“i’m sorry for the things i said. i was angry, and it wasn’t the most respectful way to talk to you.” you continued, “but i don’t want us to be like this, nat. i hate how separated we’ve been.”

she didn’t respond, but you’ve learnt to read her like a book.

in most cases, she would shut down emotionally, growing quiet or distant, unsure of how to respond to things that pierced her emotionally. her body language would immediately reflect discomfort; avoiding eye contact, crossing her arms, or falling into a tense posture.

you knew the thing that scarred her most was having her own self-worth question. when she felt undervalued and insecure.

she resented herself when she felt like that. so, so much.

so, you were always careful with your words, the way you treated her. so, this gradual fallout wounded her greatly.

“tell me what you want me to do,” you begged, “i’ll listen.”

her head turned just the slightest, studying you out the corner of her eye. “i don’t want to dictate you, y/n. i do that enough to everybody else, and i hate it.”

“you’re tying my hands, nat, what am i supposed to do?”

“i asked you to back off, and you didn’t. you’re defying my orders and challenging me in front of everybody. i never took you for somebody who had such a craving for power, but if you want to be queen that bad, you should.” her voice shook, like she was holding in some pent up tears. “of all the people i thought would fight this hard to get coach executed, you were the last person i hoped would come to.”

“i love you, natalie. but you only love me when it’s convenient for you.” you stated, “all we do is argue anymore, fuck, i can’t even remember the last time i talked to you about anything else other than this stupid ritual, cult shit. you hear what you want to hear and get mad--do you see how this isn’t fair?”

she sucked in a breath, shaking her head. “i don’t think we’re in the right headspace to talk about this.” she grabbed her robe, along with the headpiece akilah made from a buck skull. “im gonna change in lottie’s hut.”

there she was. running again. she doesn’t even want to fix this.

you scoffed at her dismissive attitude. upon noticing nat storming from the hut, shauna glanced up from the jury table, suddenly uninterested in her journal.

you were facing the tiny mirror strung up against the hut’s wall, fixing the uncomfortable diadem of wolf fangs.

“you’re really letting them collar you with freak-show jewelry like you’re nat’s fucking guard dog?” shauna asked, leant against the doorway of the straw cone. “come on, i thought you were better than that wilderness bullshit.”

“i’m not in the mood, shauna.” you grumbled back.

“you run the show better. why do you let her fucking treat you like that?” she challenged, stepping in.

“i said to back off, shipman, i don’t want company.”

“why? just admit you don’t mind getting walked all over if it means you get to grab some ass,” she sneered, her arms crossed. “it’s so obvious you’re a sucker for nat, ‘cause if you didn’t, you would’ve put her in her place by now--”

you grabbed the collar of her grey shirt, slamming her up against the wall. you exhaled sharply through your nose.

“watch your fucking mouth,” you hissed through gritted teeth, “another snide comment and i’ll shove your head through this fucking wall.”

“that’s it,” shauna smirked, what used to be for eyes with soft edges turned vindictive, like she had you right where she wanted. “that’s the kinda power nat is lacking.”

you realized you idiotically walked straight into her trap.

you let her go, eyes squeezing shut with your eyebrows furrowed. you pinched the bridge of your nose, your head pounding at the sound of her taunts.

she was taking advantage of your feelings for nat.

“fuck, do you ever take a day off?”

she crossed her arms. “what do you think you’re fucking doing, y/n? i get that you guys are fucking, but you don’t have to baby her. nat’s been a shitty fucking leader and all she does is spend her time droning over me and mari like we’re the problem.”

“you are the problem. the two of you act like fucking kids, how is that nat’s fault?” you bit back.

wow, maybe you did sound like her guard dog.

“they voted for you to be a judge, they want you--even lottie with her crazy crap. why are you denying the inevitable? ‘cause you love her?” she scoffed in laughter, as if the mere thought was joke enough. “don’t kid yourself, she can’t give less of a shit about you. she’s got other priorities, right? she cares more about getting coach off than you these days.”

you sneered. “don’t say something you’ll regret.”

“does she deserve to be the leader?” she smirked. “she only got it ‘cause lottie spared her fucking life. the respect you say she’s owed wasn’t earned, you run laps around her.”

she began backing away at the snarl you threw her way. “if you don’t do something, you’ll be the one regretting shit.”

loyalty was a visage in the wilderness… survival came first.

“all rise.” van called, awaiting everybody to stand to their feet. “the people versus benjamin scott, on charges of arson, and multiple counts of attempted murder. jury verdict requires a two-thirds majority.” she turned to her side, gesturing towards the hut you and nat shared. “the honourable judges, y/n and natalie, presiding.”

you watched the way things worked carefully, how the power dynamic shifted as things moved along. you sat by nat in the seats you had dug from the plane’s ruins, the robust gavel akilah had crafted snug in nat’s hand as the antler queen crown hung heavy on her head.

as tai stood to give the opening statement for the prosecution, you couldn’t help but look back at the blonde beside you.

you thought back on the moment you had decided to overthrow her to be queen. you had never been one to reach for power, it wasn’t exactly something that enticed you.

though, even before the crash, it was apparent power loved reaching for you; you were deputy captain of the yellowjackets with jackie, despite other more viable options like shauna (who was jackie’s best friend and the fastest midfielder wiskayok high school had ever seen), or tai (who’s been an important member long before you joined the team). somehow, the name drawn to lead the yellowjackets to the success the team saw before the crash was yours.

you weren’t anything like the other leaders this team had seen.

jackie was a picture-perfect leader when she was needed to be. in suburbia, in civilization when order was her friend. the moment the team succumbed to the chaos of the wilderness, she was chewed up and tossed aside until she served the team one last time after her death.

lottie was such a spiritual guru with manipulative undertones to her preaching. she preyed on vulnerable beliefs, surfacing to guide when all things seem lost. she provides explanations, a sense of justification to console those troubled.

nat was a perceptive ruler. she observes, provides support when needed but does not drive things herself. she believed in sustainability, and that came from learning from mistakes everybody was inevitably going to make. her morals kept her from succeeding in leading a group as savage as this team, where most things necessary for survival thrusted her into long episodes of riddling guilt and remorse.

the thing was, you never considered yourself a healthy combination of all three of them, but the others would.

one thing you knew nat was blinded to was the obvious uprising of shauna’s ruthless nature. she’d brush it off as the brunette being brash, lashing out because of her inability to deal with her grief. but you knew it had perverted into something far worse. you had only seen the tip of the iceberg.

from the way she sat to the way she would verbally oppress everybody who crossed her path, you knew the fuse was burning short. you don’t really understand why shauna was one to listen to you, not when she ousted jackie to her death, beat lottie to a pulp with her bare fists, and passively threaten to harm nat every chance she had. she would never disrespect you, and you were eager to know why.

even now, in a moment of instability surrounding the hierarchy you lot have built, she was chomping off one leader at a time.

and nat was next. you needed to get her out before she gets hurt. and this was the quickest route to ultimate serenity. what harm did it do to knock her off? it was to keep her safe, right?

the thing was, your intentions seemed to only be clear to you.

“objection! relevance, your honour--s.” misty argued.

you held your head with your fingers, snapping out of your own field of thoughts. nat seemed to be driving so far, by the way everybody was fixed on her instead of you.

“sustained. misty isn’t the one on trial,” nat said, unwilling to eye you as she spoke.

tai rose an eyebrow, almost scoffing at the blonde’s reply.

“y/n?” she called, tone enough to shed whatever credibility nat should have in her authority. like tai wanted to hear it from you, because just coming from natalie wasn’t enough.

when you finally made your debut statement as judge, the whole court fell silent in anticipation of your words.

“uh, yeah. sustained. insulting the representation is not building your case, tai.” you insisted. you nodded towards misty, urging her to take her seat. catching sight of tai’s eye roll, you cocked your head sideways, clenching your jaw. “i suggest you get to the point of your argument with coach as the focal point, before you’re asked to surrender your time to the defence.”

your heard nat’s deep sigh, watching as she fiddled with the antler queen crown resting on her head. she took the headpiece off, setting it aside.

your hand instinctively went to adjust the fanged diadem clasped around your forehead. it hung high, a prideful reminder you were the protector of what was yours; contrary to the shameful way nat always shed her crown.

when she realized you were staring, she met your eyes briefly, before gesturing towards the standing prosecutor.

it was like she was practically yielding over her rule, all command she had over the team delivered to your hands.

tai scowled, but accepted the statement.

as she continued her interrogation, nat had to butt in to keep the peace. many times tai was asking leading questions, which swayed the way mari’s answer shaped the case for the jury.

you sat silent, knuckles against your temple.

it wasn’t until the very end, beyond the coach’s heartfelt speech at a last attempt to sway the jury, a vote was held.

involuntarily, you met shauna’s smug expression from across the camp. her words echoed in your head like a broken record, it felt like you were ghosted by what you knew was right.

as nat stood, gavel in hand, she slammed it against the table twice. “alright… good job, you two. all those in favour of finding coach not guilty, raise your hand.”

only her and misty seemed to find the coach innocent.

your heart sunk. the sight made you sick to your stomach. deep down, you felt your guilt gnaw at your insides. hungry.

“guys, come on, you can’t find him guilty if you have any doubt at all.” she scoffed, but the jury remained resolute.

“i think there’s your answer,” lottie stated. “he dies at dawn.”

“what? did any of you even listen to what went on during that trial?” nat’s voice rose, the slight rasp surfacing as she strained in hopes of keeping her utter horror at bay. “you’re telling me all of you believe he did it, beyond reasonable doubt?”

“bullshit, she’s not even on defence!” shauna barked.

“nat,” you gasped softly, reaching out to caress the small of her back. you could sense she was displeased with how this verdict had turned out. you could tell she had some sort of hope in your friends that they would make the right decision.

“you’re willing to kill him over suspicion? he’s missing his fucking leg, for fuck’s sake, how do you think he escaped a dozen of us without any help?” the blonde pleaded, “come on, what the fuck are you all thinking?”

“nat!” you warned, standing abruptly. you grabbed her arm, turning her towards you. “the trial’s over.”

“don’t fucking touch me,” she hissed, jerking away.

the rough gesture made your chest hurt. like she had just stabbed you straight through the heart with her words. you shook your head, your expression softening as you stared between her shaky, teary tawny eyes. “a decision has been made, and you need to honour that.”

“and i have the right to beg for mercy because this is taking an innocent man’s life we’re talking about here.” she sniffled, tears streamed down her cheeks.

“majority rules. we had a trial and he lost, that’s it.”

“so that’s what we do now? we decide life or death by roleplaying?” her lip trembled, head shaking slightly as her eyes stayed wide. “you’re fucking evil.”

she pushed past you, hands reaching to wipe her face clean of her salty tears. she knocked into your shoulder harshly, leaving you, glossy eyed with a clenched jaw standing before the jury.

“so, your honour,” shauna tipped her head, eyes blinking shut for a moment. she was courting the crown--and the new face that now bore it. “what do you say we do now?”

looking over their expectant faces, the fanged diadem suddenly felt heavy.

your breath hitched, and with a newfound sense of liability, you straightened, puffing your chest.

“keep him in the pen. we bid him goodbye at sundown.”

an; again lmk if ya’ll like this cuz im thinking of making it a series… i love nat sm like this trope has me in a chokehold

happy reading xx

<< prev next >>

[ghostyuri]

about a girl

pairing…post-rescue!natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

in which…nat knows she doesn’t deserve you, but she can’t seem to let you go either.

before you read…suggestive language, implied sex. nat’s substance abuse is mentioned but not gone into detail about. not super toxic but not all sunshine n rainbows. reader has dated a man. your parents haunt the narrative.

the motel room is dark, except for the neon red ‘vacancy’ sign from outside peeking through the gap in the curtain. 

natalie is sat up, feet hanging over the bed and touching the floor, her black socks surely dirtied from the old beige carpet. there are more unknown stains than she cares to count, the place too cheap for her to even care at all. 

beggars can’t be choosers, she knows that well. 

she peeks over her shoulder, to where you lie on the other side of the mattress, the thin blanket up to your bare shoulders. your face is turned to her, illuminated by the sliver of the red glow outside the window. your eyes are shut and your expression is soft, you appear like an angel and she can’t help but admire you. it’s a habit.

natalie sighs lightly, completely turning her figure in your direction, watching you sleep. she finds serenity in yours.

everything in her life is bad. it’s been that way for a painfully long time and nat can’t cry about all the shit she’s endured because god would that take forever. what she can do, is hold onto the one good thing that fell in her pale palms. 

you. 

it was a frat party. she had no right being there, but of course she was, and she stumbled into a bedroom with you crying and your boyfriend apologizing; insisting sarah had made a move on him. nat inserted herself, asking who the fuck was sarah, already inviting herself in the room.

she had a few beers in her system, and she had all the context she needed to be pissed on your behalf.

her adrenaline was pumping, getting that itch for trouble, and nat loved picking fights with assholes like him.

especially when he called her a nosy bitch and tried pushing her out of the room with a false authority.

natalie punched him square in the face the moment he placed a finger on her. she had done so, repeatedly. did he deserve the severity of it? maybe not. but he seemed like a dick so it was worth it.

this wasn’t the first time you had met her, you had run into her at your local diner and heard the horror stories about her, but it had felt like it was the first time you were truly introduced to her. 

maybe it was the way you two sat alone outside on the porch steps, a borrowed bag of frozen pizza rolls on her fist while you both chuckled at how fucking ridiculous it was. and sure, your laugh turned into quiet sobs when the reality had set in, and yeah nat didn’t know what to fucking do, but her awkward attempt at comforting worked. 

you needed to hear that you weren’t the problem, and that it wasn’t your fault, and you couldn’t prevent your piece of shit ex from doing shitty things. that was the type of person he was. and you’re so different. 

you had laughed at that part and asked her how she knew that; nat said she could just tell. she could see something in you that she lost a long time ago…a light. and god damn any motherfucker that dims it. 

natalie would not let that happen—not again. 

after you had dried your tears on her shoulder, she had playfully offered to kill your ex. this made you smile, genuinely, for the first time of the night, and you realized you didn’t want to let her go right then and there. you two walked to the nearest burger joint and that was the beginning.

unfortunately, nat couldn’t control the narratives about her, and the cruel comments that would soon involve you. the whisperings behind your back, being excluded from your usual friend groups, to simply not being invited out by them at all—the fear that she would tag along spooking your so called ‘friends.’

they drifted away from you.

and you didn’t care…or tried not to. 

it hurt more when your parents started looking at you differently, being shamed for even hanging around nat. that girl was no good for you. they repeated that over and over hoping it would get through your thick skull and to the wiser part of your brain. but, they just had to give her a chance; that’s what you told yourself.

it was a warm saturday evening when you had nat over for dinner, the brunette trying to remain as respectful as possible despite not at all receiving it back.

they hardly gave her time to chew and swallow the spaghetti on her plate—the red sauce around her lips not helping their violent image of her—instead throwing her a bunch of questions you didn’t even let her answer. 

where she was staying, aware she was jumping place from to place at the moment, and unaware she was sneaking into your bedroom other nights. if she’s clean, knowing that she was far from, though she never involved you with whatever she drank or put in her nose.

if she was serious about you, and holy shit did the blood drain from their faces when she earnestly said yes. 

it wasn’t the answer they wanted to hear, or wanted to be true, because that had meant natalie had sunk her claws into you—into their daughter. a lowlife. a loser. a cannibal. a few of the nasty words they called your girlfriend directly to your face, making you start to avoid the house whenever you possibly could.

how could you feel comfortable in a home where the other part of you isn’t welcomed?

it wasn’t easy. natalie held you when you cried to her about it, insisting they’re good people, and shockingly, nat never thought otherwise. they raised you, so of course they had to be. you’re the beaming sun and she’s a damn black hole. she couldn’t blame them.

but she also couldn’t care to grant them their wish of leaving you. natalie did have her claws dug into you—but they’re in so deep and she cannot rip them out. plus, she’d be ‘better,’ one day.

it was fine. 

the months passed and natalie had you all to herself, and it was like heaven. 

taking you to the cinema and feeling you lean into her, somehow always finding whatever played on the screen to be boring and dozing off upon her shoulder—she realized you felt truly safe with her.

probably the only person who does or ever will.

taking you to the arcade just so she can let you beat her in whatever she played you against; not that you sucked, it’s just a lot of hands-on games and nat was pretty good with her hands. 

you eyed them each time she held a joystick, the girl is always quick and precise—until she catches her concentration and lets up a bit, knowing she’s about to beat your high score. you’d roll your eyes when she’d groan how difficult the game was.

bringing you out to dinner, never at those higher end places your parents go to, but you preferred it that way. you liked eating greasy burgers with her or soft pancakes at night—always listening to whatever love song played from the jukebox, usually something slower from the sixties, enjoying it until one of the truckers at the counter paid for something else. 

those moments with natalie meant everything to you. 

even the bad ones.

it was the diner parking lot, right when the sun had just set. you had been asked politely to leave after finishing your apple pie, the waitress not well suited for the situation that unfolded. a group of boys way too old to be so immature, shouting the most disgusting things at nat—and you—such as asking you if you’re next on her menu.

this was when natalie had lost it, because she didn’t care what they said about her, she’s heard it all before. but getting you involved, that was just unacceptable. she jumped up from the booth with her cherry soda in hand, throwing it at the table and telling them to fuck off.

she took the air out of the restaurant.

you sat on the curb with her, listening to the stammered apology that left her mouth. you didn’t want to hear it, you only wanted her. you bluntly told her to shut up, and kissed her. 

natalie kissed back harder. 

you both got in your beat up car and drove to a midnight showing of the evil dead at the drive-in, where you had made out in the backseat until you could no longer feel your lips, and hers were redder than the corn syrup in the horror film.

you slipped up and whispered you loved her when her teeth were in your neck, then prayed to any higher power that she didn’t catch it. you didn’t want to scare her away, but it had done the exact opposite.

you fucking loved her. someone like you, could love her. and you didn’t care it was early and you didn’t care about the nasty looks you got from your peers or loved ones. you had natalie and that was all you needed.

you’d do anything for her.

even if that had meant dropping her off at shady places and being told to never bug her about it, and you would obey.

you kept your lips sealed when she’d slip into your unlocked bedroom window, violently faded and telling you she just needed to sleep it off. she’d hold you till she knocked out, so it was okay, even if she reeked of substances that would taint your freshly washed sheets, and you’d lose sleep making sure she slept on her side.

even if that meant paying her bail after a bar fight and you hadn’t even known she had gone out at all. and picking her up at three in the morning still in your pajamas.

you bit your tongue the entirety of the car ride to your home while she leaned back in the passenger seat, her legs spread as much as possible and her head facing toward the window. to the passing houses decorated with blossoming flowers and white picket fences, a life she knows she will never live. which meant, the possibility that you too, wouldn’t have. 

but you would have her.

she had always made up for her faults. not materialistic shit, more like heavy apologies that sometimes came with tears she’d harshly wipe away with her whole palm.

the thing with nat is, you see through her, not as the demon your parents make her out to be, but as the girl forced into a fucked up sense of adulthood before she could even put her childhood toys in a donation box. the immense trauma that stuck to her tighter than you do, and that was saying a whole lot.

she coped in ways you could never agree with, but you couldn’t change natalie.

you also couldn’t leave her.

it was hours prior when you had dressed up for your friends annual birthday bash, just to stand in the corner the whole time because no one offered you a conversation nor invited you into one. you felt pathetic, and out of place, and left early, no one noticing your silent disappearance. 

with the radio volume low you had drove back home, and dragged your feet to your room, just to see your bed covered with folded cardboard boxes. and a lengthy letter on top. your absent parents had a request—get out. 

they wrote that you changed, that you lost your self-respect when you allowed natalie to rule your life, or something stupid like that. that you weren’t their daughter anymore, not really.

you were too taken back for any of the words to sink in, the rug being pulled beneath your feet suddenly despite it inching away for nearly a year. you didn’t touch any of the boxes your parents so nicely had gifted you, your vision blurred with hot tears while you grabbed a duffel bag and threw a bunch of clothes and personal items inside.

it was hard to think—you needed to calm down, to see her.

you sped to the motel she’s been staying at for the last couple of days, hurried knocks on her door, the rain beginning to drizzle upon the asphalt. nat peeked through the windows curtain, hoping it wasn’t the last dealer she may have fucked over. when she saw you, she rushed to let you in.

the door swung open, and you just stared at her, your legs frozen while the tears ran down your face.

she pulled you into the room, and into her, her hand cradling the back of your head and her foot kicking the door back shut. between sobs, you told her what happened, and nat felt it. the guilt.

a flash of an image the night she saw you at that frat party, before she got so drunk and beat your ex in a strangers bedroom. when you were in your own world and dancing with your friends and not having a single fucking worry. then she came. 

natalie swallowed thickly, blinking away her own tears before you could pull away and notice. she gave you a reassuring smile, one that felt eerily forced, but she kissed you before you really noticed.

and you kissed back harder, desperate to numb all of the horrible things that you felt and thought. you pulled nat by her flannel onto the thin mattress, and asked her for one thing. to make you feel better. 

she did.

boy, did she.

you passed out right after nat cleaned you up and soothingly dragged her nails up and down your back. she tried to fall sleep too, even put on some shitty late night show hoping it would bore her to sleep. it didn’t. she turned it back off, studied the ceiling, then sat up, and stared at you.

you’re so pretty, and you’re all hers, and this isn’t a dream.

whether the world liked it or not, or your family approved of it or not, or if it was right, or wrong. 

natalie, slowly, gets up, careful not to disturb you. she redresses herself with the clothes you had taken off her earlier, grey sweats with a similar shade tee, accompanied by a brown and beige flannel that kept her warm. 

nat hovers over the bedside table, opening the drawer, and reaching inside. she ghosts her metal tin, grabbing her half-empty pack of cigarettes and a red lighter.

her steps are quiet when she exits the room, though she couldn’t prevent the obnoxious creaking beneath the carpeted floor, but again, she could afford this place therefore she couldn’t complain.

she doesn’t shut the door completely, letting it rest on the frame while she leans against the brick beside it. 

natalie sparks a cigarette, holding it with her lips while her hands lazily run over her hair, attempting to tame the dark and uneven chopped locks that were surely a mess. the way you liked it.

a blue jeep pulls into the lot, parking across from where she stands. natalie observes, returning her spread fingers to the cigarette hanging from her mouth, narrowing in on the driver.

it’s a younger man—younger than her—that gets out of the vehicle. he looks nearly pink. his head is down and he pulls his hoodie over his curls, both for security and out of shame. 

a taller guy wearing a green beanie comes from one of the nearby rooms, an abundance of smoke escaping from the scratched-up motel door. nat scoffs, watching him dig into the pocket of his dark jeans, pulling out something she couldn’t see; but could most definitely assume. 

especially when the younger one pulls out cash, shaky hands dropping it and then hurriedly collecting the paper, the exchange quick otherwise. a rookie. a person that probably never bought drugs before and doesn’t even know the shit he bought. 

a person letting their innocence slip away at this rundown motel…nat sighs.

she hopes her stress will fade into the oblivion with the smoke that dissipates in the air, and with the short time of her standing there listening to the rain drip from the gutter and a passing train occasionally blaring it’s horn—that wrong feeling somewhat does drift from her.

mostly, because nat is forcing herself to come to peace with one thing; that she is selfish. she’s lived her whole life doing shit for other people and cleaning up messes she didn’t cause, and for once she can just stop. 

she didn’t need to appease to anyone, to act like she’s better than she is because that’s what other people want to see from her. none of that—none of them—matter. she’s given everything and she’s lost everything.

she can have this one thing.

she was wrapped around your finger and your ribs and your lungs and every tiny heart string and she couldn’t untangle herself from you. no one else could see her the way you do, and that is another thing she’s at peace with. that didn’t matter because there wouldn’t be anyone else.

you left your own damn family because you are in love with her. and to be that loved in a life where she’s hardly ever felt it…she couldn’t lose that. 

it sounds bad, surely. but she learned the world wasn’t fair a very long time ago, and it’s never going to be, so why did she have to play fair? 

that was just fucking stupid. 

natalie inhales the cigarette smoke, letting it taint her lungs and burn her throat. then, she kneels and drags it to the ground, leaving it and reentering the room. you’re still asleep, she assumes, as she crawls into the bed beside you. then, nat hears your phone vibrate from the nightstand on your side. 

she chews her lip, reaching over you and grabbing it, flipping the bedazzled device open. predictably, it’s your folks begging for you to come home, already regretting their decision they hadn’t thought you’d truly consider, that you’d kick her to the curb like everyone else and go back to normalcy. a life without her. a nightmare. 

she hears you hum, shutting the phone off completely and shoving it under her pillow, watching you stir half awake. you only squint one sleepy eye open, a blurry vision of your girlfriend, barely making out the small smile on her beautiful face.

“nat…you stink.”

she laughs quietly at your words, slipping off her flannel and tossing it to the floor. she gets beneath the covers, your arm already reaching out and around her waist, snuggling into her despite the tobacco seeping into your nostrils. it doesn’t bother you as long as you feel her.

your head lays on her chest, directly above her pumping heart, drowning out everything but the thumping of it. that is all it takes for you to drift back into a peaceful slumber, nat noting how your sleepy body still clung to her. tight. trapping her.

because—in every sense—you didn’t want to let go of her either.

you believe you would do just about anything to have nat forever. throw away everything in your life and rebuild a new one with her.

and you will.

[natalianovnas]

❛❛ 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓 ❛❛

꩜ ۫ . SUMMARY :: once more, based on this request ♥

꩜ ۫ . PAIRING :: beefy!natasha x reader

꩜ ۫ . WARNINGS :: fluff, smut (r receiving), established relationship.

꩜ ۫ . WORDS COUNT :: 1.2k

an ; don't hesitate for feedback :) || masterlist

Morning light slanted through the curtains, casting warm stripes across the bedroom, but your girlfriend was not ready to face the day. Not when she was perfectly tucked between your thighs, head resting comfortably on your stomach, arms wrapped lazily around your waist like a stubborn koala bear.

You ran your fingers gently through her red hair, her muscle-heavy frame stretched across the bed like she owned it—and she did, honestly. You smiled down at her as she nuzzled into your skin like a sleepy cat.

“Baby…” you murmured, voice soft. “You’re gonna be late.”

“Mmm, don’t care,” came Natasha’s muffled reply, words pressed into your belly. “The only thing I’m late for is you.”

You snorted. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

Nat propped her chin on your tummy dramatically, giving you the most unconvincing glare with half-lidded green eyes. “I do make sense, you just don’t understand me. You never understand me."

“Oh my god,” you laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Why are you being this dramatic?”

“I am mourning,” Natasha sighed theatrically, as if she were a widow at a funeral. “Mourning the loss of my warm pillow and thigh sanctuary. You’re abandoning me. You, cruel girlfriend.”

“You literally have a mission briefing in—” You glanced at the clock. “Twenty-five minutes.”

“And you have the power to stop time,” she said, voice low and persuasive as she kissed the side of your waist, then again, slower this time. “You could use that power for good.”

You groaned, already melting. “Natasha.”

She blinked up at you, a hint of pout on her lips. “Can’t I just stay here all day? Just…live here. Between your thighs. Happy. Fulfilled. Productive.”

“You’d sleep for hours.” as she always did.

“Exactly. Healing.”

You cupped her face gently, tilting her up toward you. “Tell you what—if you go now and save the world or whatever it is you’re doing today, I promise tonight… I’ll let you lie here again.”

Nat narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Lying for sleeping or… other purposes?”

You leaned down, lips brushing her ear, and whispered: “Other purposes.”

Her ears flushed immediately. “Define ‘other.’”

“Oh, you know,” you purred, “something involving less clothing, more moaning.”

Nat made a strangled sound, burying her face into your stomach again with a groan of suffering. “You are evil. Evil and tempting and unfair.”

“And yet you love me.”

She groaned louder. “Unfortunately.”

You tugged at her arm. “Come on, soldier. You’ll get your reward later.”

Finally, she rolled off you with the grace of a grumpy boulder, grumbling under her breath like a whole drama queen. “I’m holding you to that promise.”

You smiled, standing and tossing her a shirt. “Wouldn’t dream of breaking it.”

As you turned away, Natasha smacked your ass on her way out of bed, grinning smugly. “Just remember—tonight, I’m not the one begging.”

You paused mid-step, eyes wide.

“…Rude,” you muttered.

“Hot,” she corrected.

It was nearly 9 p.m. when Natasha returned, hair damp from a quick shower at HQ, hoodie hanging off one shoulder, and that slow, cocky smirk playing on her lips.

You were already in bed, reading, wearing one of her shirts—which honestly felt like a personal attack on her self-control.

She leaned against the doorframe like she hadn’t just kicked in a door during a mission six hours ago. “I upheld my end of the deal.”

You glanced up, pretending to think. “Hmm. Did you?”

Nat’s eyebrow rose. “You calling me a liar, sweetheart?”

You shut your book, setting it aside. “I’m just saying... I did say you’d get to lie between my thighs again—but not just for comfort this time.”

Her jaw flexed. “You teasing me, baby?”

You cocked your head, curling your finger toward her slowly. “Why don’t you come here and find out?”

She was across the room in three strides.

Natasha crawled onto the bed like a predator, strong thighs straddling yours for a moment before she slid down, settling right back into the position she’d whined about leaving this morning—head between your thighs, except now, her lips were dangerously close to where the fabric of your underwear clung to your skin.

She pressed a slow, reverent kiss to the inside of your thigh. “You promised,” she whispered, voice husky. “This was mine.”

You carded your fingers through her still-damp hair. “Take your prize, Romanoff.”

She smirked.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Your legs were already parted for her—just a little—just enough.

Natasha kissed the inside of your thigh again, slower this time, with purpose. You felt the burn of her gaze as she hooked a finger around the waistband of your underwear, dragging it down inch by inch, her breath ghosting over now-bare skin.

“Missed this all day,” she murmured, voice low and wrecked with want. “Couldn’t stop thinking about how warm and soft you are here…”

She didn’t rush. Natasha Romanoff didn’t need to. She liked to tease—to take her time and make you feel every bit of her need.

Her tongue dragged a slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, and your back arched instantly.

“Mmh—there she is,” she breathed, licking her lips like you were dessert. “Tastes even better than I remembered.”

Your fingers threaded into her hair, not guiding—just holding on for dear life as she kissed your folds again, firmer this time. Her broad shoulders locked your thighs open, no escape, no mercy.

She flattened her tongue and licked you again, again—until your hips started moving with her rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” she hummed into you, voice vibrating through your core. “Let me have it. Let me take care of you.”

Your moan came out high and soft, completely helpless under the slow, devastating pull of her mouth.

And when she sucked your clit—slow, deliberate, controlled—you cried out her name.

She smiled against you. “Good girl.”

Two fingers slid into you with ease, thick and curling just right, while her mouth stayed glued to your clit. The coil in your stomach twisted hard, building fast and sharp.

“You gonna come for me?” she whispered against your folds. “Right here, right where I belong?”

You nodded desperately. “Yes—yes, Nat, please—”

“That’s my girl.”

And she didn’t stop.

She devoured you.

She pushed you over the edge like she knew every inch of your body—because she did. You came hard, clenching around her fingers, thighs trembling on either side of her head.

But Natasha didn’t move. Not yet.

She kept her mouth on you, lapping up every last bit of your release like she was starving, like she’d been thinking about this since the moment you left her that morning.

Only when you whimpered—completely spent—did she finally, finally pull away, kissing your thigh tenderly.

Then she crawled up your body

And as you were trembling under her touch, eyes blown wide and hands tangled in her hair, she looked up with smug satisfaction and murmured,

“Worth being on time for.”

The rest of the night was full of soft gasps, low moans, and the kind of worship Natasha only reserved for one person: you.

[lovemadethemdoit]

Jake and Nat are very good friends and they decide to get married for benefits over a burger and beer at some dingy bar because 'it just makes sense, Trace. You don’t want to be slowed down by a guy. And I… nevermind about me. We can both save up and divorce when we both get out.'

Nat agrees but only because she always wanted to see what she looked like in a wedding dress without having to deal with a man afterwards.

Bradley is a big dumb dumb who thinks he missed a whole Jake/Nat romance and his heart breaks once he gets the wedding invitation because he is an idiot who is glued to his perch and now it‘s too late and he missed his chance.

He RSVPs no and has Nat standing on his porch the next morning like 'what do you mean, no. Idiot. You‘re gonna miss out on the Dagger reunion? For what?'

Bradley is still hungover because he threw a pity party for himself once he sent off the decline of the invitation and he looks properly beaten down. Nat takes a real look at him and is like 'oh my god. You finally realized you‘re in love with Bagman, didn’t you.'

Bradley feels so bad because that‘s his best friend and he‘s in love with her fiancé and it‘s all bad.

Nat rolls her eyes and shoves him inside the door, telling him to go get a shower because he fucking stinks. Bradley goes to the bathroom to do just that (and to cry a little where no one can see him being a pathetic idiot).

Nat plops down on his couch and pulls out her phone to facetime Hangman. He picks up, bedhead, sleep lines and all, glaring at the screen.

'This better be important, Trace.'

'Wedding‘s off, pretty boy.'

'Huh?' Jake sits up. The bed covers slide off and Nat‘s only human. She‘s only ogling him a little bit. Sue her. He‘s got a nice chest, is all. 'What? Why?' he asks.

'You‘ll see. Get dressed and meet me at Bradshaw‘s place.'

Jake stops in his tracks before his face goes white.

He clears his throat.

'Please don‘t tell me you guys hooked up,' he jokes, forcing a grin onto his face that‘s so far from casual and Hangman-cocky that Nat actually pities him for a moment.

She groans.

'Oh my god. You‘re just as stupid. Do what your not future wife told you and get your ass in gear!'

She hangs up and heads to Bradley‘s kitchen. If she‘s going to play cupid for these two idiots she needs another coffee to deal.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for babysitting the Barton kids with Natasha

Natasha Romanoff x reader

warnings:

a/n: silly lil concept. also its like implied nat and y/n are dating but not explicit so like it can def be platonic or romantic depending on how you perceive it.

prompt:

oh you KNOWWW it’s gonna be a good time when “auntie nat” and y/n show up to babysit

clint and laura were going out of town for a whole week and left you two—the only two they trusted—to watch their three kids

and ofc the kids loved you guys to death

“can you show me how to shoot a gun?” -lila

“let’s check the rules your mom left” -nat, reading the note on the fridge “‘don’t let the kids touch your guns’ sorry kid, against the rules”

cooking was something you both were dreading

“can we take the quinjet to get mcdonalds?” -you

“only if you fly” -nat

no R-rated movies was circled and underlined on the “rules” note about 10 times

but the terminator doesn’t count right?

being woken up by nate in the middle of the night bc he cant sleep

“your turn, nat” -you

after nat didn’t come back to bed for a while you found her and nate playing “spies” (she really wanted him to be her mini-me 😭)

“y/n! wanna play?” -nate

*defeated sigh* “sure!” -you

within 20 minutes all the kids were downstairs pretending to be spies and the new mission was “get the kids back to bed”

“no, we cant dye nates hair red” -you

“it’d look great” -nat

“natasha they’re never going to let us see the kids again” -you

three kids is just a LOT of work

you had newfound respect for clint and laura

“it’d be easier if we could drug them” -nat

“yeah…..NO” -you

cooper and lila would start arguing over the shower, nate didn’t like his breakfast, nat was getting stir crazy, you were trying to patch a hole in the wall before clint ever knew it was there—yeah. pretty great stuff

check-in calls with laura

“hey! how are they doing, not causing you too much trouble?” -laura

*lila and cooper doing nat’s makeup TERRIBLY* “oh, yeah, we’re just fine. hang on. i have to send you a picture” -you, getting photographic evidence

“oh. my god. clint, you have to see this” -laura, holding up her phone to show the worlds deadliest assassin with horrendous green eyeshadow on her eyes and cheeks and smeared lipstick

“how’d they find my makeup?” -clint, sarcastically

you didn’t know it yet, but you’d be the next victim

“oh, thanks guys…you didn’t have to” -you

truthfully you and nat got some hilarious pictures together

those pictures would live on the barton fridge for years

tending to farm things

“should we call tony? the tractor is broken again” -you

“are you kidding? this is my week away from tony” -nat

it was kind of like a vacation for you guys too. it was no paris or london, but it was an escape from your routine

but you did already make plans for paris for right after this

“watching kids for a week earns us a nice vacation, right?” -you

“i feel like saving the world several times earns us a vacation, but sure, if you think babysitting is the way to go, we can do this more” -nat

lila asking for coffee

you checking the rules list, which has a bullet point saying “do not let lila have coffee”

cool aunt nat almost made her a nice little latte too

“hey, spies might be allowed to lie, but little girls are not. try again later” -you

pretending to be an elderly couple on the porch rocking chairs, drinking your morning coffe and watching the sunrise

“maybe we should retire. get a nice house in the woods. ignore the avengers when they call.” -you

“i don’t hate that idea” -nat

trying to get the kids to do their chores was a hassle

dishes, trash, laundry, cleaning bathrooms, these kids must have thought THEY were on vacation

“i hate how these kids are just not afraid of assassins. that is not normal” -nat

“it’s normal when they call a world famous assassin auntie nat” -you

“are you saying im going soft?” -nat

“i would never say that…” -you

she says in shock like she didn’t just bake cookies with them.

laura and clint finally came home and you guys had dinner ready for them

“aw, you didn’t have to do that” -laura

“don’t worry about it, i know you’ve been on the road all day” -you

you all ate dinner together and said your goodbyes and the kids all gave you a group hug

“i hope they behaved for you” -clint

“they were just perfect” -nat

and on your way out, you heard

“hey, did someone put a hole in the wall? this looks freshly patched” -clint

the kids scattered and you and nat were wise to exit promptly

“love you guys! lets do this again sometime!”

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[27spoons]

CRUSH | ACT THREE: SAFE FROM HEARTBREAK (IF YOU NEVER FALL IN LOVE)

pairing: natalie scatorccio/fem!reader

summary: Lack of proper communication, emotional rifts, avoidance like it's a job, and homoerotic gym classes! The true high school experience.

wc: 7300

warnings: homoerotic activities, avoidable pain and suffering, high school gym class, stereotyping, smut but only if you squint, delusional behaviour on your part

a/n: my bad for going mia everywhere lmao i was. like. i got really depressed while writing this and vanished off socials for a more than a few days aiugaiugha. anyways! hopefully more writing soon idk

ao3 / masterlist

PREVIOUS - NATALIE'S INTERLUDE TWO

NEXT - ACT THREE: SOMEBODY ELSE [WIP]

You wake up to the steady stream of sunlight pouring through cracks in the blinds and the unfamiliar feeling of a warm body pressed against yours.

It takes your brain a solid minute to catch up with everything. The scent of cheap citrus-scented shampoo and stale cigarette smoke clouds your nostrils, a combination you never thought you'd be happy to smell, but here you are, grateful to still be smelling it come morning. The soft puff of her breath against your collarbone is steady and warm, and an idle hand traces small circles into your hip.

God, you can't even fight the smile that creeps its way onto your lips, or the way your entire body seems to tingle at the fact that the exact girl you didn't expect to spend the night with anyone spent it with you. 

Nat's head is tucked delicately under your chin, just like it was last night. You trace your hand up her spine, feeling the distinct bumps of her vertebrae underneath the pads of your fingertips, her skin prickling with goosebumps in her sleep.

Having a sleeping body next to yours all night is a strange feeling. It's not unwelcome—far from it—but strange nonetheless. You're used to quiet mornings and cold sheets with solitude being the default state, not something broken by soft exhales and the slow rise and fall of someone else's chest. For a fraction of a moment, you let yourself believe that this could be your new normal.

You don't realise how tightly you're holding onto the moment until Nat stirs. It's subtle at first—a soft inhale, the slight flex of her fingers against your hip. Then she shifts, just enough for her nose to nudge against your collarbone, and you hear the smallest, sleep-heavy hum. You'd say you're pretty sure Natalie Scatorccio just purred, but you're worried you'd be shot on sight.

"Hey," you whisper, a little too eagerly. 

Her initial response is a soft huff against your neck that quickly turns into a long, slow exhale. It's the type of sound someone who's exhausted would make, or someone who's trying to make a choice they really don't want to.

You try not to think about that.

She doesn't verbally respond right away, but she does press a lazy kiss to your shoulder before placing her head back down.

The peacefulness lasts for another five or so minutes, then Nat grumbles something akin to "too fuckin' early for this shit…"

"I think it's, like, ten in the morning, actually." You chuckle to yourself as she slowly stirs, still grumbling complaints that you can only assume are about the time of day.

A sharp pinch is delivered to your side before Nat speaks again. "Yeah, like I said. Too fuckin' early."

"Oh, sorry," you say with a roll of your eyes. "I forgot you skipped every class before noon."

"'cept on Tuesdays," Nat murmurs quietly, gradually waking herself up. "If Martinez catches me skipping gym, he makes me pay for it at practice later."

You run your fingers through matted strands of hair at the base of her neck, gently untangling them as you go along. "It's not even soccer season right now."

"Nah, but he does 'regular check-ins' to make sure we're still up to his standards." She huffs, moving her hand from your hip to start tracing invisible lines on your abdomen. "Weekly practice sessions. 's why you never see me after school on Thursdays."

"Got it. Tuesdays and Thursdays are days I should never plan anything with you."

It's intended to be a joke, but the way Nat stiffens tells you it fell flat.

Shit.

Before you can backtrack, she's pulling back to sit up and stretch, extending her arms over her head and cracking her neck. You aren't quite sure when she put a shirt on, but a part of you wishes she didn't have it on so you could see the curve of her spine and the dusting of freckles you're sure dot her back.

"You wanna stay for breakfast?" you ask tentatively, placing your hand on the jut of her hip. "I make a mean pancake." 

Nat grunts, very obviously feigning consideration for a question she already knows the answer to. "Nah. I can't. Sorry, Princess. I gotta get goin' 'fore my mom starts wondering where I am."

You know it's a lie as well as she does. She's never been a good liar.

You sit up a fraction as she turns to reach for her jacket, tugging the blanket up over your chest to hide yourself from the light of day. Nat's shirt rides up slightly in the process, and your gaze catches on the tattoos lining the length of her left arm—ink you hadn't fully seen last night under the chaotic haze of last night.

In the small handful of soccer games you'd watched her play before properly meeting her, you had seen the collection of patchwork tattoos grow over the course of high school. They all look like they were done on different days by different people, drunk at parties or in the school bathroom between classes.

There's (what you assume is) a turtle on a skateboard near her elbow, though the lines are crooked and faded. A beer bottle with a smeared label sits on her bicep, and right under it sits a fish you would see an elementary school student draw. There's a smiley face on her inner wrist, but it looks like she tried to scrub it off with something. It's scratched, faded, and half-erased, like she was embarrassed by it later. And, to top it all off, there's a random string of numbers on her inner forearm: 052996. A date? A code? A dare? You wonder if even she remembers who gave it to her.

Your fingers move before your brain does, reaching out from under the blanket to brush over the ink with gentle curiosity. "Any of these got a story?"

"Nah," she chuckles, grabbing her bra from the floor and putting it on without even removing her shirt. "At least, nothin' worth telling." She shrugs, looking down at her arm like it belongs to someone else. "Most of 'em are just… dumb shit. Placeholders for better ideas I never had."

You hum, reach back to resume tracing over the lines since she hasn't completely pulled away. "What about this one?" Your fingers brush one that looks relatively new—a particularly awful alien with Xs for eyes. "This guy your guardian angel?"

That earns you a soft scoff, but there's a flicker of something else in her expression. Fondness, maybe. "Guardian alien. Only shows up when I'm blackout drunk or about to make a huge mistake."

"So… last night, then?"

Nat actually laughs at that—real, brief, and genuine—and for a second, the air feels warm again.

But then she tugs on her jacket, expression shifting to something far more unreadable. "Seriously, though. I gotta bounce."

You nod slowly, even though you don't want to. Your hand stays ghosting near her arm for a moment longer before dropping back to the bed, watching her tug her jacket on over the same arm you had just been touching.

"Could you pass me a shirt?" you ask tentatively, suddenly feeling much more exposed and vulnerable than you had all night. "Just… anything from the laundry hamper over there. I gotta put the clothes away later, anyway."

She grunts at that, reaching down to grab her discarded jeans and tugging them up her toned, scarred legs that look like they'd run from—or into—trouble more than once. "You need anything else? Underwear, pants?"

You're momentarily caught off guard at her question, a part of you not expecting her to ask or even care all that much, and that same part smiles when it realises she cares—even if just a little bit. 

"Uh, yeah. Both would be great. Maybe a pair of sweats? The black one on top of the pile is fine, thanks."

Another grunt in acknowledgement as she moves to dig through the pile of clean clothes, tossing you the requested attire. 

Although you know she's leaving, you can't help but let yourself feel slightly delusional—absorbing the idea that she's doing this out of a natural feeling of domesticity, rather than any other reasoning behind her actions. 

Nat hesitates before she moves any further away from you, shifting on the spot momentarily. "You, uh, y'think your parents are gonna give me shit? Ask me questions?"

You have to laugh at that, pulling your shirt over your head. "God, no. They probably won't even notice you're here, or that you're leaving. You'll be fine." It's not even a joke—just the truth.

"Cool, was worried I'd have to jump out the window." She pushes a hand through her tangled hair, fingers catching on knots. "I'm already fucked up." She gestures vaguely to her various bruises and cuts from last night, "last thing I need is broken knees."

You stand up once you get your pants on, trying to figure out how to break the tension. "Did you, uh…" Your eyes rake over your room, trying to find something you can use to keep her here longer, not wanting everything to end just yet. "Want… like… a toothbrush? Or, like, some clean clothes? Those ones still have blood on them, and—"

A dismissive hand is waved, cutting you off before she brushes imaginary dust off her jacket. "All good, Princess. 'preciate the offer, though."

"Yeah, yeah, of course, of course. No worries, no worries."

Clearly sensing the tension in the air, Nat clears her throat. "Well, uh, thanks. Y'know… for…" She brings her hands up—showing off the bandaging—then gestures to her face. "And last night, I guess. But, like I said… mom, and everything."

She's lying again. You know that as well as she does. Neither of you comments on it.

Your hands rest uselessly by your sides. A part of you is tempted to reach out and say goodbye with touch, but you're unable to bring yourself to follow through on the action.

When you don't do or say anything more, Nat grabs the door handle and unceremoniously shows herself out of your room, closing the door far more gently than you thought she would have. You don't follow her down—as much as you want to—and listen closely to the sounds that come from downstairs. 

Stairs creak under her weight, thirteen steps in total, then silence follows as she presumably walks to the front door to grab her boots and lace them up. The sound that comes after about a minute is the thump of the heel of her boot against the floor, followed by the low groan of the front door hinges and the soft click of it shutting behind her.

You let yourself exhale slowly as sputtering sounds from the cold start of her diesel engine spill through the cracked window, and—

You could have sworn your window was closed last night when you went to bed. Strange. It's a bit finicky to close, and maybe the fact it's slightly ajar has something to do with the small collection of ashes on the sill. Her calling card, apparently. 

You don't brush them off as you latch the window shut.

When the Ranger finally stops sounding like it's barely holding onto life, you look out the window in time to see her pulling away from your house and off to—well, wherever she goes when she doesn't want to be found. You know she said 'her mom,' but you also know she doesn't have any intention of going straight home. 

You linger for a beat longer than necessary, watching the truck disappear past the end of the street, the pavement now visible from the plowing efforts that took place last night. The quiet that follows her departure feels almost lonely, like she left with something fragile you hadn't meant to hand over. 

Eventually, the creak of floorboards beneath your feet reminds you that time is moving, and so should you. 

You shuffle downstairs, still barefoot, and halfway to the kitchen when your mom's voice drifts in from the living room.

"Was that a girl I just saw leaving? She looked…" She pauses, trying to find the right words to describe Natalie's rough appearance. "Unpleasant, for lack of a better word."

Your dad grunts from the armchair, not bothering to look up from his book—Patriot Games by Tom Clancy—when he speaks. "Rough crowd you're running with now?"

"She's not… she just… she just had a bad night. That's all. Needed a place to crash."

"Well, as long as she isn't stealing anything," your mom sighs, sparing you a brief glance. "Or getting blood on my carpets. It's a pain to remove." Her brief glance turns into a long one as she assesses you for what feels like the first time in forever, her brow knitting in contemplation. "You look…"

Your dad finally looks up from his book to see why your mom is still talking to you, his eyes narrowing as he finally looks over you. "Look like you had an interesting night," he finishes on her behalf.

Feeling far too seen, you turn on your heel and head into the kitchen, although it doesn't do much to shield yourself from their gazes.

Stupid open floor plans.

"I patched her up and she stayed the night. Wasn't really that interesting."

A laugh spills from your mom, and you already know she's about to judge you for something. "Well, sure sounds interesting to me. Sounds like something your dad would read about in his books. Patching someone up in the dead of night."

Your dad gives his reply, but it starts to drown out as you grab a bowl from the cupboard and a box of… whatever cereal you grab first from the pantry. You pour it more out of habit than hunger, not even bothering to add some milk to the mix. 

You zone out at the counter, not even realising you're popping piece after piece of dry cereal into your mouth. 

There aren't any thoughts in particular that pass through your mind, but the one that makes its way through the noise is: What even just happened? 

Last night plays behind your eyes like a film reel—a phone call, trudging through deep snow, patching up Nat in the passenger seat of her truck, spending hours learning about her and her life, taking her back home, kissing her in the dark of your room, exploring each other's bodies under no obligation to do so, falling asleep together…

Fuck. 

You toss your empty bowl in the sink and trudge back up to your room, parents still talking about… something in the living room, making no effort to hide how little they actually care. 

When you shut your door and fall face-first onto your bed with an oof, the first thing you do is randomly pat your comforter in an attempt to find your phone.

It takes… more than a few tries, but you eventually smack your phone and pull it to your face. And, before giving yourself time to think about it, you open Nat's contact and immediately text her.

[you]

you left cigarette ashes on my windowsill 🙄 rude

You don't expect her to respond anytime soon, and toss your phone onto the opposite end of your bed as you press your face into your pillows. Specifically, the one that still kinda smells like her.

Sure, her departure was a little… strange, but it wouldn't be Nat if it weren't a little odd, so you try not to think too hard on it. All that matters is that it was a damn good night.

Returning to school suddenly doesn't seem like it'll be as big of a chore when compared to yesterday. 

The first text goes unanswered.

Which, sure. Nat has a terrible tendency to only check her texts once a day—a product of always having to hide her phone from her dad, you've learned—and then reply with the flattest texts possible. But you find yourself surprised when the text doesn't even get an acknowledgement by the following day. Not even a drunk text at 2 AM with a hitty meme from some obscure subreddit.

So, you try again the next day before you head to school. Something casual. Something safe.

Still nothing.

You expect to bump into her in the hallways that day, so you try not to think too hard about her not responding to your texts.

However, when you finally enter the halls, your first encounter with Nat is her turning around—as if she forgot something in the opposite direction of you—and immediately walking away.

The following week passes in a daze.

You tell yourself not to care. You try.

But every time your phone buzzes, a part of you still hopes it's her. Every time someone whispers her name in class, your stomach twists. And whenever you see the back of a blonde head with brown roots peaking out in the hallway, your heart stutters before your brain catches up.

You stop texting after the fourth message goes ignored.

At some point, it starts to feel less like rejection and more like erasure.

She hasn't unfollowed you on Instagram—although you'd be surprised if she even remembers she has one, being that she seldom uses it—and it's impossible to tell if she even got your messages, being that she has a Samsung that never updated past Android 10, so you can't even get receipts that tell you it was even delivered. 

When you bump into Lottie Matthews in the hallway—the same person who gave you that cryptic information about Nat at that party all those months ago—you cautiously ask her how Nat's doing. If she's okay, or something along those lines. You feel like you fumble the words out more than ask them.

Seemingly caught off guard, Lottie hesitates before speaking. "I mean… she's around," she says slowly, adjusting the strap of her bag. "She disappears sometimes. Doesn't mean she's gone for good."

A beat. Then, softer:

"Don't take it personally. She does that with everyone."

Easier said than done.

By the time you have gym with her again, her bruises are starting to fade. She's taken off the wrapping—that she obviously wasn't maintaining—from around her knuckles, and the scrapes don't look nearly as bad as they did that night.

You wonder if someone else has been checking in on her. Maybe Van or Kevyn. You hope someone else has been, even if just for her sake. Although, selfishly, you almost hope no one has even bothered to ask her how she's doing, because maybe then… maybe she'll come back to you. 

Even if it's just to use and discard.

But maybe she's already done that.

You end up against her in dodgeball that day. Nat's always had a killer aim, so you aren't exactly looking forward to being on opposite sides of the gym, but maybe this gives you a way to work out some of your frustrations. Even if it's just throwing balls in her general direction.

When Coach blows the whistle, you aren't one of those people who run to the center line in an attempt to grab a ball. No, you strategically linger near the rear wall and keep your eyes on the students fighting over the balls in the center, breaking off once they get a firm grip and run back to where you stand to 'tag' the ball into play by hitting the wall.

Six players per team. Coach Scott and Coach Martinez stand on either side of the gym, playing referee. Your team—comprised of four kids you never cared enough to learn the names of, you, and Taissa Turner—manage to grab four balls in total, leaving the other team—which includes Nat, the captain of the men's varsity baseball team, Randy Walsh, and three other classmates—with the remaining two.

So, despite your team's apparent lack of athleticism, you'd like to think Taissa makes up for most of that.

She certainly plays like a force to be reckoned with, anyway.

You try to keep your eyes on the game, but it's hard not to notice how Nat moves—quick, practiced, precise. She's always been good at sports, which is especially funny considering the fact that she's never been assed even to try. You've never been told exactly where her athletic ability came from, and it could very well just be natural, but you get a feeling there's more to the story than that.

Something inside you twists whenever she lunges, ducks, or pivots. She looks better—healthier, maybe—which should be a relief, but instead it just makes you feel more left behind.

You try to tell yourself it's just a game. That she's just a (former) burnout with a decent throwing arm and a chip on her shoulder. But when she grabs a ball and immediately clocks some poor kid in the thigh after tagging it in, you realize you're lying. She's good, and you're not as over this as you pretend to be. 

So, when your team goes down four people, and her team goes down three, you realise you're gonna have to step it up, if the way Taissa is yelling in your direction is any indication.

You dodge the first ball that Nat throws in your direction, just missing your right ear.

"Natalie!" Coach Scott calls from the sidelines, but doesn't stop the game. "Below the neck! We've been over this."

You watch her jaw tick, but she doesn't argue with him. 

Surprising everyone—but especially yourself—you manage to catch a ball that's aimed directly at your chest, successfully calling a teammate back into the fold. You watch Nat's footwork for a little while, trying to claw through the haze of annoyance that clouds your mind, and throw the ball you had caught directly at Nat.

Well, at least, you had planned to throw it directly at her.

Whether she dodges it skillfully at the last second, or your aim is so off that it completely veers from its intended path, it misses her and hits the kid standing to her left on his bicep. He hisses in pain, immediately dropping the ball he was carrying, and presses his arm over the rapidly reddening skin. The five seconds it takes him to walk to the sidelines feels like a lifetime as your eyes meet Nat's, and the two of you have a mid-game staredown that feels like a standoff straight from an old west film. 

For a second, you're not in a high school gym anymore. You're standing in some dusty one-horse town, sun in your eyes, fingers twitching at your sides like you're about to draw a revolver instead of throw a dodgeball. She stands across from you, the sheriff's badge she'd probably hate glinting in the light. No words. Just you, her, and the unbearable tension of who's gonna move first.

In the end, it's you when Taissa yells, "Get your head in the game!" after a few seconds too long. Unlike Nat, her athletic ability comes from the need to be the best and outperform her peers—both a blessing and a curse.

And just like that, the saloon doors slam shut, and you're back in the gym, clutching a red rubber ball and a bruised ego. 

You're momentarily flustered as you're called out of your daydream just as it had started getting good. You throw your ball too early and miss an easy catch that would have given you a huge advantage you so desperately need to finish this game once and for all.

Nat's body language shifts as your third missed shot whiffs past her. She looks at you like you're the unlucky rabbit, and she's the coyote who's already sunk her teeth in. Her eyes lock onto you with a predator's accuracy, a sharp contrast to the girl who'd barely been trying moments prior. She grabs a ball that rolls idly across the ground between the two of you, and whips it in your direction like she plays softball instead of soccer. She barely misses your shin with a throw that must reach fifty miles an hour, curving only at the last second to miss. It's a good thing, too—you wouldn't have dodged that in time.

The following five minutes are a combination of barely missed throws, people getting tagged out and back in, and a level of exertion you aren't used to in a grade school dodgeball game. And, through it all, neither you nor Nat gets tagged out. 

You're both panting, sweating something fierce, and maintaining some fucked up eye contact far too sensual for a gymnasium. This encounter feels like something out of an erotic sports novel, and the cherry on the cake is the way her hands run through her sweaty hair, pushing it from her face and—

This isn't a gym or the wild west—this is your bedroom. Nat's panting from an entirely different type of exhaustion, and your face isn't slick from sweat alone. She's looking at you like you might mean something, and you're looking at her like she's the only thing you want to see. 

You dodge another ball. So does Nat. Your tongue presses into her. Her head falls back as a gasp rips from her chest. You fall asleep with her head on your shoulder. She smokes a cigarette out your window. You jump over a ball that Nat throws. She ducks under a ball you throw. You offer to cook her breakfast. She leaves without a goodbye.

Past and present blur, and you hardly notice the rapid transition between the two until a whistle is called. 

"Shirts win!" Coach Martinez calls from the sidelines, giving you and Taissa an approving nod. "Good work, ladies. Some real skill you portrayed there."

Taissa claps your shoulder and grins victoriously, acting as though she just won a championship cup. "We just gotta work on your timing. With a little effort, we could…"

Her voice drones into the equivalent of the adult voice from the old Charlie Brown shows, effectively becoming the backdrop to Nat stomping out of the gym and slamming open the door to the changing room.

You shrug Taissa's hand off your shoulder and murmur something akin to 'maybe next time,' and quickly follow after Nat, determined to get a brief second alone with her to ask her what the fuck is going on.

The door swings open to the sound of running shower water, shoes squeaking on the tile floor, lockers slamming, and the rest of the class filing in after you. 

It takes a moment to locate Nat between the bleached blonde hair of cheerleader-types and the ruggedness of those who've spent too long on the wrong side of the tracks, but you do spot her, albeit closing her locker and making her quick break.

"Nat, woah, wait—" but she's slithering out of the room before you can catch up to her, and you get cut off on your way to the other exit by a group of girls walking in your path.

You throw your hands up in frustration, and the girls give you weird glances, but no one says anything about your sudden outburst.

You sit down on a bench between rows of lockers, placing your head in your hands as you stare at the floor. Confusion runs through your mind, and you find yourself even more baffled now than you were before gym today. Because… well, you're almost positive Nat is trying to tell herself that what happened between you means nothing, but you wouldn't have had a homoerotic staredown with someone whom you didn't have some sort of… something with. 

You aren't quite sure what that something is, but it's definitely there.

"Dude," a voice from behind you draws you out of your spiralling thoughts. "Did you fucking see the way Nat was playing? You'd think she had something to prove."

Your ears burn as though the voice is talking about you, but you don't turn around to see who's speaking, instead opting to act like you aren't actively eavesdropping.

"Maybe she is," another voice chimes in with a laugh. "You've seen how fucking rough she's looked since school opened back up. Maybe she's trying to get an athletic scholarship to some D3 college, everyone knows she couldn't get out of this town otherwise."

"Seriously. She'll probably die the same way her fucking dad did."

You grip your locker until your knuckles turn white. You're usually calm, but this? 

This might make you swing. There isn't much more that pisses you off than people talking shit about someone they don't know, let alone even begin to understand.

Top 40's pop music annoyingly plays from someone's phone as you change into clean clothes without really thinking about it, moving on autopilot like you had done after so many gym classes before. 

Nat's focused face and wicked aim haunt the rest of your day and half the night, and you start to wonder if that encounter with Denny way-back-when was actually just a precursor for all the events that followed. Like the universe was trying to scare you off before you got too close.

You wonder what would have happened if you'd listened.

A month passes.

Not that you're counting the days, or anything. 

But each day that passes makes you wonder more and more if you had given yourself to a succubus that night, with the way that every day feels like the gradual siphoning of your life energy. You stop putting effort into your outfits around the same time you stop eating on a regular basis. You still interact with your friends and do your schoolwork, but time quickly turns into a soup—dates and times intertwined and events overlapping. 

It's somewhere between mid-January and early February when you see Nat in the hall, not running in your opposite direction for the first time in… well, since that titular night. You see her laughing against the lockers, speaking with someone you can't quite visualise through the dense crowd. Regardless of who she's talking to or why, it makes you feel a simmering rage through your lower gut and up your throat. 

An anger that you try very quickly to smother. 

It's not like you need Nat, anyway. You had friends before her, you'll have friends after her. 

You decide you can take a different path to your class, and turn on your heel to head down a different hallway in favour of entirely ignoring her existence today. 

You type out a long-winded draft to her number in algebra class, asking her… well, a large number of things, with a significant portion being attributed to her ghosting you directly after you fucked, which sounds suspicously like all the rumours of her screwing people then immediately cutting them loose. For someone who was so firm on not believing all the rumours that were thrown around about her, you find yourself wondering…

No.

You delete the draft without sending it.

Class resumes like nothing ever happened.

It's two days later, when you're sitting at lunch with a small group of your friends, that someone makes a teasing comment about how you seem 'extra depressed' recently, asking you if it has something to do with that showdown that happened in the gym some weeks back. It's something that's meant to be no more than a nudge between friends, but it hits like a punch.

"Fuck off, Alexis. You're the last person I need getting in my business. Don't you need to get back with Peter for the third time this year?"

Everyone at the table goes quiet. Smiles freeze and fall, and awkward glances are exchanged. 

It's a solid thirty seconds of you staring down at your food in tense silence before someone else at the table—Ellie—speaks softly. "That's… not like you."

You feel bad immediately. Of course you do. The worst thing Alexis ever did to you was steal your Go-Gurt in third grade. And she gave you two the next day to make up for it. So, really, she hasn't done anything at all to you but be your friend.

"I'm fine," you murmur, standing up far too quickly from the table and leaving the cafeteria before you can further embarrass yourself in front of all your friends. 

You almost have a panic attack in the same janitor's closet where you spoke to Nat around homecoming. 

When the hell did you become someone who lashes out at friends?

Lecture hall on Friday is when you hear someone whisper Nat's name between the sound of shuffling papers and flickering lights. You aren't sure what they say—you aren't sure it even matters—but it hits you all the same. Whether it's in a positive view or a negative one, you still feel like a bucket of cold water is dumped over your head immediately.

You can't focus for the rest of the period, the biology textbook you were flipping through stopping on the page about human reproduction, which feels more like a slap in the face than something to laugh about.

At some point, the music you've been vaguely listening to just starts to bleed into music Nat would listen to, and you rip out your earbuds with an emotional tug, sending them sprawling across the desk and pulling your phone into your line of view. As you shakily unlock the phone, you open up Instagram before you can stop yourself. Your fingers move on autopilot, navigating to your following list and clicking on Nat's username. 

Unsurprisingly, her last post is still from a year and a half ago—a photo of her posted up alongside a pillar outside of school, smoking a cigarette in her leather jacket with a partial smile. 

It almost feels like nothing's changed for her. That you were no more than a way to pass the time. And maybe that's all you were—a warm body with a pair of ears that were willing to listen. 

Time moves on.

Monday, you see her in the quad, standing between Van and Lottie. She's smiling—genuinely, it seems. Lottie and Nat are smoking cigarettes while Van stands with their arms crossed, rolling their eyes after whatever Nat says.

The next time Nat ashes her cigarette, her eyes drift across the melting snow and meet yours. It's a fleeting moment that feels like it lasts for five lifetimes rather than just five seconds, and has you stopping dead in your tracks.

Then she looks away. She says something to Van. They both laugh.

You feel bitter resentment claw into your throat in the form of stomach bile, threatening to spill in a half-empty garbage can or backpack. You drink some water from the bottle you forgot was in your hand as you head back into the school, not bothering to stop and acknowledge Ms. Wheeler when she scolds you for running in the halls. 

The bathroom stall in the west-wing women's bathroom becomes your temporary reprieve, slamming the door shut and collapsing on the toilet as you break into silent sobs.

You decide that today is the day you say something. You don't even know if you want closure or answers, and you're not sure which would make you feel better—or worse.

You follow after Nat before she can slip away once more, catching up to her in the parking lot and grabbing the sleeve of her leather jacket.

"Are you seriously just gonna pretend none of it happened?" you ask as you spin her around, your grip firm. "Why won't you just talk to me, Nat?" Your voice cracks out a little more desperately than you intend it to, and you already know you look like a puppy left out in the rain too long. 

"I'm not…" she scoffs, although it sounds more like a half-hearted exhale than anything else. "You're making this a bigger deal than it is. I've just been busy."

"Busy? For over a month?" You push back, your grip tightening to the point you swear it'll leave permanent indents in her leather jacket. "We slept together, Nat. You cried in my bed. You spent the night with me." 

Nat pulls back from your grip, stumbling slightly as she does so. "I was fucking drunk, alright? People say shit when they've had a few to drink."

"Bullshit, you were drunk. You were stone-cold sober, Nat. Are you forgetting I was there, too? Or do you think that you were the one who patched yourself up that night?"

"It was just sex, alright!" she almost yells, then quickly glances around to make sure no one heard her. "That's all it fucking was. Stop making this into something it isn't, okay?"

"This isn't lust, Natalie. I… I know the difference. You can't keep telling me that you don't—!"

"Don't what?" Nat snaps, "Feel something?" She scoffs—like the very idea offends her. "I don't. I told you that. That was just a little bit of fun! Some fucking… stress relief after an intense night, okay?!"

"So, what then? Do you fuck everyone you tell your life story to? Then take your time in bed with them? Letting them… letting them learn your body? You learning theirs? Being slow and gentle and—"

"Oh my God!" she laughs incredulously. "So what, I told you some shit about me? Huh? Think that makes you special or something?"

You stumble over your words, attempting to regroup after her sharp response. "I thought… I don't know. I guess I thought we meant something," you whisper—not even sure she hears you over the ringing in your ears that no one else seems to hear. 

Nat hesitates slightly, something like regret flashing behind her eyes before she speaks, her voice coming out oddly cold and monotone. "As cute as this little obsession with me is, I'm growing tired of the whole puppy-dog act. It's pathetic."

The rational part of your brain tells you that this is a defensive mechanism. Putting walls up ensures she can't get her heart broken, even if that means breaking her own heart. As long as someone else can't do it.

The irrational part of your brain screams at you. And, unfortunately, the irrational part has always been a little louder. When you feel your eyes start to water, you're hardly surprised. Always been an emotional crier, haven't you?

"You don't mean that," you murmur, swallowing down the lump in your throat. "You told me yourself that all you do is put up walls—"

"You don't know me." Nat immediately sneers. "So what? I told you some shit? Big fucking deal."

You step closer to her, on the brink of full-blown tears streaming down your cheeks, trying to catch her eye as she grabs a cigarette from a crumpled pack in her pocket. "I know you're not heartless, Nat. You don't get to act like that night didn't mean anything."

She freezes for a moment between inhales of tobacco smoke, the sudden sentiment of your statement causing a series of emotions to cross her face in the timespan of only a few seconds. You choose to believe it's because she's starting to give herself some kindness for once, that she's—

"God, not everything is fucking about you!" She laughs sardonically, the slight wave in her voice the only thing betraying her. "You're not some… fucking exception just because our encounter had some…" She actively gestures at nothing, speaking with her hands like she always does when emotions start running high. "Just because our encounter had some bullshit fucking… weight to it, alright?"

The tears start falling.

Nat's hand shakes as she taps the cigarette far too many times against her finger.

"We aren't even friends," she continues. "We have nothing in common. I only spent time with you because it was convenient and easy for me. What we had? What we did?" she scoffs, "It meant nothing. It was just convenient."

Your jaw hangs slack as her harsh words dig through your bones, and you try to come up with a response, but your brain is seemingly frozen in shock at how the girl who told you you made her happy ended up talking about you like this.

"Maybe that's my bad, for letting you think it meant something." A shrug. She says it so flippantly you could scream. "But come on." Her arms cross, the smirk she throws your way all teeth. "You really thought you were the one who would change me, Princess?" She says Princess like a punchline now, not a nickname. The word formerly made something warm curl in your stomach. Now it curdles. 

"You've heard what everyone says. People like me don't do the whole 'feelings' thing. That's on you."

"I told you!" You shove her chest as tears hiccup down your cheeks. "I didn't listen to the fucking rumours!" Another shove, and this time she stumbles back at the action. "I've heard all of them, Natalie! Not for-for-for a second did I ever believe them! You've been called…" You frantically wipe at the tears on your face, "Fuck! What haven't you been called? Because I've heard murderer, thief, slut, cheater, arsonist, maniac, junkie, drunk—" With every word, you take another jab at her chest, to which Nat feebly tries to swat your hand away each time. "But rumours are just rumours! I knew they were all exaggerated, Natalie! And I asked you before assuming!"

The second Nat's back hits the wall, she's shoving you back—much harder than you shoved her—causing you to almost fall on your ass. "I didn't ask you to!" she yells. "You could have just assumed, like everyone else does!"

"That's not who I am, and you know that, you fucking asshole!" You step up in her space again, but don't put your hands on her this time. "You know now, better than a lot of people, that I actually want to get to know people!"

"Maybe that was your first fucking mistake." Nat's voice drops to a low murmur. "Don't know why you ever thought this would end up being anything more than casual, babe." The pet name feels mocking, and you absolutely hate how all the names she used to make you feel good are now being used to make you feel… well… the complete opposite. 

You sniffle a few times as you take a step back, the hostility becoming slightly overwhelming at this point. That rational part of your brain tells you she's just doing whatever she can to push you back, prevent you from getting too close. The irrational remains louder.

Nat doesn't stop. All or nothing, it seems. "I don't get attached to people, in case you haven't picked up on that yet."

A watery scoff escapes your throat, "Right." You shake your head as your lower lip trembles, "Let me guess, safe from heartbreak if you never fall in love?"

"Yeah." Nat crosses her arms as she looks you over, "Something like that, Princess."

You don't know what to say after that.

You want to scream. 

Or cry. 

Or slam your fist into the hood of her car just to feel the noise cut through the aching silence she's left in your chest. 

But all you manage is standing there, frozen in place as she turns on her heel.

"I bet it wouldn't kill you, you know," you spit as she walks off. "Bending your own rules. Seeing how far you fall. If only you could look beyond the walls you fucking built."

Nat stops briefly, and although she doesn't face you, she does turn her head slightly. "You don't know shit. Stop acting like you do." And she continues walking to her truck, leaving you to stand in the cold winter air, alone.

a/n: I'd like to think of act three as "the arc of pain and suffering". will there be pain? yes! will there be sex? yes! will there be misery? yes! will there be emotionally fueled interactions? yes! will there be moments of tenderness mixed in-between? yes!

woooo!!! pain and suffering!!!

[cjjohansson]

love is enough - p.2

natasha romanoff x reader // comfort? smut? reader has a penis. 18+

part 1

“I love you. After all this time, I still love you. It’s always been you, it was you yesterday, it was you 2 months ago, a year ago. It is you today, it will be you tomorrow and for the rest of my life it will be you, I love you Natasha.” 

Her hand moves to your face, your own head leaning into her palm as she takes the weight of it. 

“But what if love isn’t enough y/n?” 

---------

You stepped away from her slowly, the hurt and shock reflecting on your face. What could you say to that? Because deep down you know it is true. Love might come from a relationship and might help develop one but not only does love exist in one. 

Natasha deserves love. You deserve love. 

And it is that simple, sometimes it isn’t enough. And it is a shit realization as it comes out of her mouth.

So when you find yourself not able to say a word, she stares back at you, waiting. 

And then she turns to leave when you say nothing and you let her. 

You both need more time to think and breathe. A lot was said between you both that needs to be thought through. 

Could she forgive you for going on that mission? For destroying her while destroying yourself?

Could you forgive her for sleeping with another while she was lonely and in pain?

If only the questions were easier. 

You're not the only one conflicted in this. Natasha is too, how is she meant to trust that you’ll always be there, that you won’t abandon her for something else you believe you need to do? How is she meant to forgive herself for sleeping with someone else when it is already eating her alive? 

Your brain is running wild, question after question as you stay facing the door. 

You turn around to your bed, your belongings scattered all over. You can’t leave. You can’t.

Not now, not when you know there could still be a chance to be back with her. 

And god, would you do everything and anything to get her back. 

--------

You wish it took the same amount of time to put back your stuff as it did throwing it on your bed but it didn't. By now it was already reaching midnight. You had fargone going down to eat with the team. It hadn’t taken Bucky long to come up to your room and try to talk you into coming down. But you couldn’t, not with Natasha down there, it didn’t seem right to, not after what happened. It only shocked you when Bucky had then told you that Natasha didn’t go down either, and was refusing to even talk to anyone through her door. They only knew she was in there and alive due to FRIDAY telling them she was.

It broke you all over again. 

How many times was your heart going to break in one day?

You threw the last of your stuff off your bed, feeling too distracted in your thoughts to finish it. You were tired, yet wide awake. Hungry, yet awfully nauseous. Nothing was going to settle you but Natasha. 

You find yourself speaking to FRIDAY, asking if Natasha was awake and still in her room and if she had left to eat something or had something in her room. She was awake and in her room, yet she hadn't left to eat. 

You knew what to do. 

You asked FRIDAY to place an order from your favorite pizza place. One half and half, spicy chicken on one half and pepperoni on the other, along with some chicken wings on the side. It was one of your and Natashas favorite comfort food. It was what was needed right now and you hoped with your whole heart she allowed you in. 

Unsurprisingly the food doesn't take long at all, it never does when you're ordering to the compound. You make sure to double check with FRIDAY if Nat is still awake and she is. 

When you approach her door, you try to tell yourself this is the best thing to do right now. You both need to talk and stretching it out for longer will only make the situation even worse than it already is. So you take a breath, count to 10, remind yourself that this isn’t a stranger. This is someone you have been in love with since the moment you laid eyes on her. 

“Tash?” You knock gently on her door, pressing your ear against to hear any movement, you don’t.

“Natasha, please open the door…” You hear bed covers shuffling around until you see a shadow appear at the small gap at the bottom of the door. 

“I know you're there, I can hear you breathing and I can see your shadow…” Still nothing.

“I have pizza?” You hear the door click. 

She is already back in bed under her covers before you can even fully step into her room. You're always amazed at how fast she can be when she wants to be. 

You move to her slowly, closing the door behind you. Yet you hesitate when you reach her bed. Not knowing if it is now classed as crossing a line to sit on her bed or not. 

She shocks you when she scoots over in the bed and lifts up her covers…

“I…err…I have outside clothes on. You don’t like it when I-”

“You have a t-shirt in the third drawer.” She mutters as she holds her hand out for the pizza box. 

You awkwardly shuffle over to the drawer, finding your t-shirt right away. 

“Do you have any-”

“You can just wear your t-shirt and boxers, it isn’t like I haven't seen you naked before.” Your cheeks flush red, suddenly feeling embarrassed for being so awkward. You don't even understand why you are being like this. You know you came here to talk, that was the only intention, to talk and to try and fix what you broke in the first place. You hurry yourself in changing, before making your way back over to her bed and sliding in beside her. 

You try not to let it bother you when she sits up straighter and leans away from you to put the pizza box in between you both. 

“Why the pizza?” Natasha mutters yet again as she takes a bite of a slice. 

“Thought it could be some kind of peace offering while we talk?” She lets out a breathless chuckle, your body turning to face her quickly, a smile spreading on your own. It’s been too long since you heard her laugh.

“Always knew the way to my heart didn't you…” Your smile drops. Her words flutter through your head once again, ‘but what if love isn’t enough y/n’. You fiddle with the pizza in your hand moving it back to the box as you start to feel nauseous all over again. 

“Sorry, that…I suppose that isn’t fair after what I said earlier…”

“No, no it’s- you're fine. You are right by the way.” You turn to look at her again, her brows furrowed as she puts her slice down, closes the box and moves it to the side table, she moves closer to look at you and you try not to hold your breath. 

“You're right, sometimes love isn’t enough…because love is a feeling and yes those feelings can change but to me the only way they have changed is that they have only become even deeper, but regardless of that, relationships are more than just feelings. They’re also about actions, choices and commitments. And I neglected them, I ruined that by going on that mission. Because you're right again, that mission did ruin me and I know that deep down as much as I thought I needed to go and finish it, I didn’t and it ruined me even more. And because of my own actions and choices, I came back and I had lost the best thing that ever happened to me. I am so sorry for leaving, I am so sorry I destroyed you, I never meant for any of that to happen, I was so lost and I left you behind and that wasn't fair, so I promise Natasha, nothing like this will ever happen again. I’m not leaving, I’m not going anywhere. So yeah, sometimes love isnt enough Tasha, but I promise you this time and for the rest of our lives it will be.” Your voice is clear through your whole mini monologue, staring into her eyes so she knows how truthful you’re being. You need her to know and feel everything you're telling her, you need her to believe you. She stays quiet for a while, tears filling your eyes over the fear of her leaving, the fear of your words and promises not being enough. 

“I wanted you to stay so badly, I just, you have always put me first and I know you have. I get that this mission was hard, god it was such a difficult position for you to be in and I needed you to stay so I knew you were okay. You wouldn’t even let me come, it hurt, you kept pushing me away. You were having nightmares every night and you wouldn’t let me comfort you, I was just stuck. I felt like the person I was in love with was slipping away right in front of me and no matter what I tried to do, it didn't make a difference. And I got in my own head too, I felt like no matter how much I tried to love and look after you it wasn’t enough anymore…I generally thought you fell out of love with me, it was just so confusing. Leaving felt easier than staying and that’s when I knew I didn't have another choice, you know? And I fucked up after…I slept with someone barely a week after you left and that wasn't fair, it isn’t fair. I felt so shit and alone and hurt…I was just in self destruction mode and I know that isn’t an excuse. Just in my head, how I felt, I just wanted and needed to be loved and in the end I ended up feeling awful and dirty…I regret it, with everything in me, I regret everything that happened from the moment you left. But I just didn't know how to handle it? I love you Y/n, I do, I truly love you and I want everything with you, I always have and I always will. I need you to forgive me Y/n, for sleeping with her and ruining this too, I need you to forgive me.” Natasha isn’t very steady with her words, she never had been when it came to herself being vulnerable. Her words stuttered all over the place, tears streaming down her face. It was hard to not pull her into your arms and hold her against your chest, she needed to calm down, or she was going to hyperventilate and that was the last thing she needed right now. 

“Hey, shhh, I forgive you. As much as I hate that it happened, we both can’t change that it did. We weren’t together anymore, the moment I left, we broke up, I know that. I forgive you, Natasha. I forgive you.” You whisper into her ear as you lean down and hold her closer, her body moving to straddle your lap so you can hold her more comfortably. 

“You’re okay. I’m here, you’re here.” You whisper again in her ear, you notice her breathing not calming down, sometimes she is like this after a nightmare and you can only ever get her to breathe properly again doing one thing which you really don't want to do right now. You decide to give her a moment to try and calm down before you have to resort to that. 

You continue to hold her tight, whispering to her that she is okay over and over again. Rocking her back and forth, just anything else you can think of. Yet her breathing only seems to be getting worse. You pull away slightly, pulling her face in front of yours. You notice instantly that she isn’t here with you right now, your body goes into overdrive. Standing up and wrapping her legs around your waist, moving her quickly into the bathroom. You step into her shower and make sure you are holding her properly, if you falter your hold you will drop her from the way she is about to move. You flick on the shower and you’re instantly met with her arms flying out and her body tensing as the water falls over her. Natasha’s breathing gets even faster for a moment before she takes a massive deep breath and starts to slow down, her body sagging as she closes her eyes. It still takes her a few moments under the cold water until she fully controls her breathing and allows herself to fall even more into my arms and shivers from the cold.

You turn the shower off, being rewarded with a kiss to your neck as you get out and wrap a towel around her. Moving her back into her bedroom, grabbing her new clothes to wear. Natasha whines when you go to move her, but allows you to finally put her down onto her own feet. Your hand lands on her cheek, pressing a lingering kiss onto her forehead. 

“You should get changed, or you’ll just get more cold. And I should probably go…” You feel guilty saying that after everything that has just happened but you feel like staying will only give off the wrong impression. Natasha stays quiet as you turn to leave, you see her in the corner of your eye take off her t-shirt, being met with her bare back…

“Stay? Please?” Your breath hitches as you turn back to face her, her t-shirt still not covering her body. She leans down, taking her underwear off and then moving towards you. Natasha stands in front of you, your eyes trying their hardest not to stray from her face. Natasha’s hands move to the bottom of your wet t-shirt, slowly bringing it up and over your head and it meets hers on the floor. You try your hardest to ignore the twinge in your boxers, but it becomes difficult when her hands move lower and she slowly starts to pull them down off of you too. 

She stays standing in front of you, pushing her body to press against yours. Her hands reach for yours to wrap around her body. It’s been too long since you’ve felt her skin against yours. 

It feels like coming home. 

You hold her tight against you, your breathing matching hers as she stands on her tiptoes to press her face into your neck. 

You reach your hands lower, moving underneath her ass to pick her up, she wraps her legs around your waist perfectly and you choose to ignore the moan that releases from her mouth when her core touches your stomach. 

You move back into the bedroom, laying her down gently onto the bed and placing yourself between her legs. Your forehead rests against her own, taking in the warmth and feeling of her body all over again. It had been 6 months since you had both been intimate with one another. 6 months of not feeling her pressed against you. 

Natasha’s hand touches your cheek delicately, pulling you down slowly to meet her lips. 

You kiss her eagerly, like she is the only thing able to bring you back to life, and honestly that felt true. 

The kiss only intensified, lust filling both of you as Natasha wraps her legs around you and pulls you to be flat against her. Her hips grinding up into you, your member poking her entrance, you try your hardest to hold back a groan but she has so much power over you. 

“I need you y/n, I want you so badly…” Natasha mumbles against your lips, her grinding continuing to work you up even more. You want and need her too, in every way imaginable. 

You move your kisses down her body, leaving mark after mark as you make your way down her neck, breasts and stomach. 

You press soft kisses into Natashas inner thighs, her whining making fire spread throughout your body. Your first lick is gentle, soft, tender, but when her hands grip your hair as she grinds herself hard into your face, you already know there is no time for slow, teasing movements. 

Natasha mewls as you continue to eat her out, your hands falling from her waist to gather her slick at her entrance, your fingers teasing her as you suck hard on her clit. Natashas moans continue to spread around the room, louder and louder, your brain going fuzzy as her moans consume you. 

“Fu-ckkk, I’m-I’m cu-cuming!” Natasha shouts as her orgasm floods through her, her back arching off the bed while her thighs hold a tight grip around your head, your movements slowing down to help her through the high. 

When she finally falls back onto the bed, her thighs loosening, you slowly move away from her, pressing more kisses onto her inner thigh as you make your way back up her body. Her breathing is still erratic but it doesn’t stop her from pulling you down back into a feverish kiss, her tongue pressing into your mouth as she breathes harshly. ‘I love you’s’ falling into both of your mouths as she starts to grind her hips back up into you. 

Natasha pulls her legs from your sides, moving them in between your own as she pulls away from your kisses. A smirk lining her face as she leans forward to press a teasing kiss onto the corner of your mouth before she turns over onto her hands and knees. Her ass pressing back up into you, making a groan fall from your mouth. 

“Fuck Tasha, are you trying to kill me…” You manage to breathe out as you press your hard on against her, your eyes zoning in on her back as she arches perfectly into the bed. 

You don't give her time to react as you rub your cock against her, lubricating yourself up before you push in. Her breath hitches as you push yourself fully in, your hips meeting her ass. Her walls squeezing you tightly, making your own eyes fall shut, you might cum just like this. 

“Shhhittt! Fuck Y/n!” Natasha grunts as her body falls down, the only thing keeping her up being the tight grip you have on her hips. 

You start slowly, already feeling so overwhelmed just being inside her. Her walls are so tight, making it harder for you to even pull out, choosing to lower her and yourself so she is flat against the bed. Your body covering hers as you press your face into her neck, peppering kisses into it, lingering near her mouth as you continue to move your hips. 

Breathless moans continuously fall from Natashas lips, the sound turning you on even more, your hips finally speeding up, pulling louder moans as you pound your hips into her.

“FUCK! Shiiii- I love you, fuckkkk I love you so much!” Natasha moans into your mouth as she pulls your face against hers. Your hips somehow moving impossibly faster and harder, her words spurring you on. 

“Ughhhh, you're taking me so well, being such a good girl!” You pulled away from her lips, biting into her neck as you felt yourself getting so close to release, it only helps when Natasha keeps whimpering into your ear, her ass pushing back into you despite the difficult angle for her. 

“Babyyyy, I’m gonna, fuck I’m- UGHHH” Natasha screams as her body tenses, her walls sucking you in as she pulses around you. 

“Shit! Fucking hell!!!” You shout, your hips stuttering as you cum deep inside of Natasha. Your grinding continues as you help ride out both of your highs. You can see the sweat dripping down Natashas back, and you can feel the sweat dripping down your own. Natasha continues to clench around you, her body slowly untensing as you go to pull out of her. 

You flop yourself onto your back next to Nat, groaning as your back meets the bed. Natasha hums as she leans closer, pressing deep kisses onto your shoulder and over your chest as she goes to straddle your lap. 

You let her move over you, knowing her intentions just by the type of kisses she leaves on you. Her hand going down to grab you, jerking you up and down, getting you hard all over again as she lowers herself onto you. You gasp, feeling hot all over as you meet her warm sex. Natasha relaxes onto you, her chest meeting your own as her lips attach to yours. 

“I love you so much…I’m sorry for everything that happened…” She mumbles against your lips.

“I’m sorry too baby, fuck…I’m sorry too, never again, none of this is ever going to happen again. SHit, I love you so much!” You groan as she starts to roll her hips all over again, working you up just to stop. 

“Promise me, promise me that love is enough sometimes…” 

“I promise baby, I promise it is, but this time it’s going to be so much more than love, I promise!” You groan yet again as her hips start grinding deeper, her kisses getting more intense as you finish talking. 

“Good, now show me how much you mean it again…”

[e-therealife]

girlfriend!nat headcanons

rummages through your closet when she's over and tries on your clothes like it's a fashion show. definitely imitates you when she does it.

"no, you totally sound like that. i'd know."

type of person to show up at your house without calling first. she figures if you're not there, she's interested as to why and is now gonna wait until you are. probably inside your room within thirty seconds flat. second story? doesn't matter. idk man, she's finding a way to scale walls.

probably also jumps out to scare you when you come back.

if you have work or some obligation that you don't wanna go to, she's suddenly trying out everything possible to keep you home/get you to go out with her.

"look, we can totally fake a funeral obituary. someone'll cover your shift for that. now sit down. we've gotta figure out how i tragically died." “you're telling me [literally any food you love] doesn't sound good right now? i'll buy.” doesn't even matter if she hates the food because she just needs to keep you focused on her and doesn't want you to be stressed out about 'stupid stuff.'

she's sleeping in her makeup all the time. also in her clothes from the day. when you guys start spending nights together, you're wiping her makeup off for her and helping her change. soon, you swear she's wearing makeup and uncomfortable clothes more often just so you'll help her (she is), but she'd never admit to it.

not the best with physical affection, so she's always trying to get you to get sleepy first so you're cuddling up to her or so she can cuddle up to you once you fall asleep.

when you wake up in the morning, she's usually already awake, likely out buying you some really greasy or sweet breakfast. if she's still sleeping when you wake up, she will die on the hill that you were the one who was being all cuddly (despite her being literally on top of you).

tries to show you soccer tricks then fucking trips over her feet and falls on her face.

"watch this," ends up being the funniest phrase you hear from her. she's not even giving up after one attempt, especially if she's not sober.

"you didn't see that."  "what are you talking about?"  "you clearly don't even know how it's supposed to look."

late to/skips class a lot, but if you let her know you're gonna be absent and need notes, she'll be there the entire time, taking everything down so attentively. she's shushing whoever tries to talk to her. 

willing to slip into classes she's not even in. jotting down everything because she doesn't know wtf is going on.

you're potentially banned from soccer games by the team because nat gets too nervous and messes up in front of you.

alright i don't smoke but i read this thing about shotgunning and oh my GOD??? YES she's doing that if you smoke. where are fics with this because hello?

probably tries to keep you away from drinking or smoking if you haven't started yet, though.

would looove roadtrips. also so a one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh person.

loves seeing you without makeup, especially if you wear it a lot. absolutely encourages you to do whatever makes you happy and loves seeing you express yourself, but she finds little moments where you're sleeping or something all barefaced so soft. she needs you to know you can be comfortable around her.

however, if you are wearing makeup, she loves those lipstick marks a kiss can leave. or if your makeup gets messy (somehow…).

modern au

she's the type of person to send like stupid cat tiktoks and be like "this is u." also says the same thing with the most ridiculous videos of people doing stupid shit.

she's ragequitting video games left and right. if you're playing together and she dies over something stupid (ESPECIALLY if she's killed by an annoying kid or something) you just hear her mic go silent as she mutes it and curses for a minute.

if someone's fighting with her in chat she's forgotten about the game entirely and you can hear her speedtyping angrily.

if you're there in person while she's playing (which she's only doing this if you actively wanna watch. she'd never ignore you to play a game.), you get to see her start swearing at her screen (her accent def comes out for this.).

"are you fuckin' fucking with me? how is this not patched?"  "did i seriously pay for this shit?" "and he's not banned? i can't call someone a prick, and he's not banned?"  "he's hacking. i know it." “aimbot.”

also if someone's making fun of you on a game (even if you suck) she's forgetting about winning and just screwing with them the entire time instead. will sacrifice getting reported for throwing to avenge you.

definitely knows like all internet jokes so she's practically speaking in another language sometimes.

SHARING HEADPHONES and she's only using wired. no bluetooth.

author's note: alright friends. this is my first tumblr post ever. let me know if you liked it, and feel free to chat with me! i'm pretty new to tumblr lol so i really don't know what i'm doing. i've got more stuff i'm working on right now and i'm done with finals in a week sooo stay tuned for more posts!

[returnofeternity]

I love love love your writing. Can you do one where reader gets the queen and Nat has to decide whether to continue on with the plan or help reader ? Or something like that

synopsis. you pull the queen card.

pairing: natalie scatorccio x gn!reader

genre: angst. 

wc: 1,256

· · 𖦹 · ·

this is a tough one. but not really. you'd definitely be in on the plan and a bit worried for nat because you know shauna's gonna interrogate the fuck out of you when she finds out nat is missing after the hunt. you weren't, however, in on the rigging that taivan did.

of course, both you and nat were terrified when shauna suggested the hunt in the first place. your safety was the first concern on her mind. she didn't wanna participate in it. she was out. you were out. but no one can change shauna shipman's mind.

she could barely sleep the night before. both due to how nervous she was and because she stayed up half the night comforting your own anxieties about it. she kissed your face and held your body until she felt it relax, leaning over ever so slightly to confirm you were asleep before she used your arm to calm herself down by running her thumb in circles repeatedly. the only thing that her mind could think of was the scenario of you picking the card. she doesn't know how long she lay there, thinking about tomorrow morning's hunt, but when she closes her eyes to rest, she can hear birds chirping.

it seems like she only got a few hours at most.

she wakes up to you shaking her shoulder, already dressed and holding her clothes with a bleak look. both of you are silent as you help her get dressed, and you don't speak until shauna comes around to everyone's huts and tells them it's time.

"good luck." you whisper, leaning in to kiss her. it's hard to pull away. you don't think you want to. both of you give each other small smiles when you pull back, and you nod at her after dusting yourself off. "let's go."

"let's go." she repeats, taking your hand and walking out of the hut alongside you.

you mutter "shit" under your breath as you see the white blanket of snow covering the ground and the huts. you knew it snowed but, fuck, it looks horrible out here.

nat huddles closer to you as you shuffle through the snow and over to where the girls are. you pick up on how van seems to play with the cards nervously. you give her a small smile as you pass, nodding at her as you get in line next to nat, maybe a little too closely for comfort.

hannah's next to you, and you feel a little awkward being beside her after she practically raided your girlfriend's hut the other day.

"sh-should i...?" van blinks rapidly, looking at shauna.

"you can start." she nods at van.

you roll your shoulders back as you look around the circle of your teammates, gulping nervously as all their tense energy wafts toward you.

not lottie though. as you glance at her, there's excitement on her face. almost reminiscent of how she'd look before a big game, smirking at the opponents as you all shook hands with them.

when you look back at nat, you can see misty out of the corner of your eye picking her card.

it's a ten of hearts. she's safe.

you don't miss the way shauna rolls her eyes slightly. it almost makes you break out into a smile.

misty and van switch, and van ends up pulling the 9 of diamonds.

you hold your breath and stand up straighter when misty moves to nat. you begin to pray to anything. to whatever god is up there, to whatever wilderness being is here with you all, to protect nat. let her be safe.

please, please, please, please, you whisper in your head.

you miss the way shauna eyes taissa.

natalie pulls an ace.

your shoulders relax and you smile at nat after she turns to you, and she's also giving you a small smile.

before you can reach for the deck, shauna's shoving her way between you and nat. she stares straight ahead, not looking at anyone.

"shauna, you don't need to take any extra risk. you can go back to your spot." taissa says assertively, but you can detect a bit of panic on her hard stare.

"misty, keep going." shauna bobs her head, moving a piece of hair from her face.

you glare at her and get back in line, watching with a scowl as she picks two of clubs. that was supposed to be your card.

fear settles deep inside your belly, and you can feel tears prickle. your mouth forms a straight line as you try to keep it all in, try to tell yourself that you'll be fine, but you don't quite believe yourself.

when you look at van, it doesn't help ease your worries at all. makes them worse actually. her teary blue eyes make your blood run cold, and a shaky breath escapes you as misty steps in front of you.

you clench your jaw as you pick. you don't even look because deep down you know. you can feel it. you hope and pray that you're wrong, but when you hear natalie's choked breath as you show your card, you know what you picked.

· · 𖦹 · ·

thinking of locking eyes with a very nearly sobbing nat, nodding at her as if to say "it's okay." but you're still fucking terrified. you don't want it. but if it can distract shauna so nat can go out and try for help to get everyone else out of here, you'll do it.

for natalie.

honestly..... i can see her pushing away shauna before she puts jackie's necklace on you. telling you to run while she tries to give you more time by distracting everyone :( you were probably seconds away from running yourself, but it was nat who did it first.

you run as far as you can. muscle memory takes you to where you and nat were supposed to say goodbye before she left, but you reckon it's too dangerous to stay just in case she sticks with the plan. so you keep running. you nearly start crying when you hear the animalistic sounds of the girls whooping and calling after you. but you manage to hide behind a tree long enough to watch mari and akilah run after your 'footprints.'

thinking of nat who gets to you first.

running into her arms and just sobbing as quietly as you can without attracting attention. nat who kisses you and strokes your back while babbling about how she's gonna help you, that she can figure this out.

telling her that you love her so much. telling her that you can do this, that you can juke them out and hide long enough for her to go and get help. she doesn't wanna leave you but seeing you cry and beg for her to go before they see her with you has her heart clenching. you have her convinced.

you kiss her until your lungs hurt.

you tell her that you'll see her on the rescue plane.

nat who watches you run away when you both hear the sounds of the girls getting closer.

nat who's crying so hard she can barely make her way to the secret place where she hid the transmitter.

nat who cries and screams as she tries to get it to work up on the mountain, begging for someone to help you.

nat who doesn't even know that you've been dead for days when she eventually heads back to camp.

[reginaphalangelobster]

Little Crush

Nat x Reader after Civil War feat. Steve and Sam

Summary: You and Nat get closer in your cabin in the woods, the question is, how close do you get?

Warnings: mutual pining, one swear word, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sad Steve, annoying Sam, one hot scene, implication of sex but not described

Word Count: 4.6k

Notes: Natasha calls reader krolik - meaning bunny/rabbit in russian. Reader sings and plays guitar

I recommend listening to the song Little Crush by Dianna Corcoran.

It took me over 2 weeks but I'm finally happy with this!

You were a S.H.I.E.L.D agent working under Clint and Natasha for a few years before the battle of New York. You knew Natasha from the red room. You were a few years younger than her but you still recognised her, how could you forget the woman that set you free. You were on the street when the Chituari attacked. You ran into battle and assisted the others, surprising them all with your skills. Natasha knew you could handle yourself but even she was surprised, she would never admit it but she thought you might even be as good as her. Might.

After defeating the army you were welcomed into The Avengers. You stayed close to Natasha more than the others as you still had a hard time trusting people, namely men. You slowly befriended Nat and learnt more about her. You and Clint were the only people who knew about Nat's little sister. She would tell you stories about Ohio when she'd had a few drinks and was reminiscent. You loved to hear stories about the two of them together.

You slowly let yourself get comfortable around the other Avengers but you were still weary. You didn't often sleep through the night as your nightmares would take over. When you couldn't sleep you trained, over and over again. You were an almost completely flawless fighter and in spectacular condition, but it was the only thing that could put your mind to ease, even slightly.

You fought alongside Natasha after the Sokovia Accords. You hated having to fight against the people you called friends, even family, but Natasha asked for your help so you did it. Even though you didn't enjoy hurting your friends you had to admit it felt pretty awesome when you knocked THE Captain America on his ass. You were a bit less than thrilled when a giant kicked you in the face but everything has its ups and downs. You managed to get away from the fight with just a few cuts and scrapes and maybe a broken rib here and there.

You told Nat about a cabin you inherited that would make the perfect safe house and you headed there with her.

After several different methods of transportation and hours of travel you and Nat finally arrived at your cabin.

Nat whistled "This is pretty fancy"

"Yeah, a few years back I found out that Dreykov didn't kill every family member I had. I had an aunt that left this for me"

"Sorry, krolik" She rested a hand on your back which you didn't quite brush off.

"Nah, 's fine. I didn't know she was alive before so why does it matter when she's dead?"

"Yeah" Nat exhaled, changing the subject "So wanna drop our stuff and go find some food?"

"God, do I ever"

You practically threw your bags in the door and went off in search of food. You found a little corner store, the only place still open at the late hour, and raided it for everything you should need for a while at least. You walked out to the car carrying 3 bags of groceries each.

"You think we got enough?" Nat said as she loads the bags in.

"Hey, I'm the one who cooks, aren't I?"

"Maybe, I haven't seen you put your skills to the test in a while"

"Just shut up and drive, Romanoff"

She started the car and looked in your direction with a smirk.

Once you get back you unload the groceries and get started on dinner. You decide to make mushroom stroganoff, you remember a story Nat told you about a time she made it for Yelena when they were little. That was always one of her favourite stories to tell and one you loved to hear.

Natasha was out the back chopping wood for the fire when she smelled the aroma flooding out the kitchen window. She walked up to the window and popped her head through.

"What's cookin' good lookin'?" She called out, scaring the living shit out of you and making you drop the ladle in your hand.

"Nat! You're lucky that wasn't our dinner!"

"Sorry, smells good. Is that mushroom stroganoff?"

"Yes, I remember a story you told me about Yelena and I thought you'd like it"

"Krolik, that's so sweet"

"Well you kinda saved my ass when that giant almost squished me, so I guess I owe ya"

"How much do you owe me?"

"What have you done now?"

"Nothing! I could just use a hand moving some of this wood. Where's a super soldier when you need one huh?"

"Probably with his icy boyfriend"

"I told you they're not dating"

"I'll believe it when they stop looking at each other like that"

"Like what?"

"Like the way you look at that beer" You point with your ladle, emphasising your point.

"You mean my soulmate?"

"Exactly"

"So, you gonna help me or just stand there and look pretty?"

"You think I'm pretty, why Natasha I'm flattered!"

"Yeah, yeah, get on with it"

"I'll be out in a sec, just gotta turn off the stove. We don't want a repeat of what happened in that b&b, do we?"

"It was one time! You are never gonna let that go, are you?"

"Nat, you set the kitchen on fire"

"I set the kitchen on fire ONCE, now you won't even let me near a lighter"

"It's called self preservation, I think you should try it"

With that you closed the window, after Nat gave you the finger, and went outside to help her. You got the wood in and started the fire, just in time to sit down for dinner.

"Thank you" Nat whispered into her bowl.

"Are you thanking the mushrooms for their great sacrifice?"

"No, idiot. I'm thanking you"

"Well you're welcome and you're lucky I like to cook"

"Not just for dinner, for everything. Not many people would become internationally wanted criminals, leave their life behind and live in the woods for someone so, thanks"

"Eh 's no biggie. I didn't really have a life before you anyways"

"You know" She takes in a deep breath "Never mind" She sighs.

"What? Too much salt?"

"Nah, it's perfect"

You and Nat had both gone to bed hours ago but you were still awake. Just lying in bed in your room and staring up at the ceiling. You had gone to sleep pretty quickly but you had a nightmare, a nightmare you couldn't bear to think of, a nightmare about Natasha. You knew it wasn't real but that didn't provide you with much solace.

You decided to get up, maybe walking around the cabin would help, at this point you were willing to try anything. You went for a walk outside, taking in the night air, fresh smells of trees and pine cones and the sweet early morning bird songs. You walked for what felt like ages just the crickets and crunch of grass underfoot to keep you grounded, to keep you from drifting away and possibly never coming back. You made your way back to the cabin just before sunrise. You thought it might be nice to get a good few of the sunrise so you climbed up the ladder on the side of the building and sat on the rooftop. It was oddly calming, a feeling that you rarely felt. Whenever you do feel calm it's usual because of Natasha, she makes you feel safe when you never thought anyone could. You sat up there for a while before you started to hum. It wasn't something you chose to do it was more, subconscious, you just started to hum.

Nat heard the humming and checked your room, but you weren't there. She checked the whole house but you were nowhere to be found. She knew you liked to go on walks to clear your head so she went to look for you. Not too long after, you felt a presence next to you. She sat with you for a moment, not saying anything, as she knew sometimes it was better for you to just sit in silence with someone. After a little while you rested your head on her shoulder and she welcomed the touch. You had maintained your usual demeanour around her but you seemed to hold yourself back since Germany. You hadn't said anything, you wouldn't, but she could tell something was off. She knew you very well and she knew that the fight had impacted you more than you let on.

"I miss them"

"I know, I do too"

Those were the only words the two of you spoke for a long time, you just stayed together. Her arm came and wrapped around your shoulder and she held you close. She felt so guilty for what she had dragged you into, she thought you resented her but you could never.

Since that day, whenever you needed a break you would go up to the roof and whenever Nat couldn't find you she knew you were there. Weeks went by and you still had your little routine of whenever you felt overwhelmed, you'd go up to the roof and after a while Nat would come and sit with you. It was nice to have something that needed no explanation, it was nice to have that time with Nat, just sitting together.

You decided to go through all the stuff in the attic while Nat was getting supplies in town. You found all kinds of your aunt's old belongings. You were surprised that she actually had pretty good taste, there were some nice clothes, old records, a few good books and a guitar. You can't remember the last time you picked up a guitar, you learned to play years ago but between being an Avenger and running from the government you haven't had much time to practise. You unlocked the case and picked it up, it was still in tune and you strummed your fingers across the strings. Before you knew it you were playing some old melody mindlessly.

"I didn't know you could play" Nat's voice came from behind you, startling you and causing you to almost drop the guitar.

"Oh, um, hi" You stuttered nervously.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You never asked"

"Guess I didn't. Next thing, you're gonna tell me you're a singer"

You looked down shyly.

"You're not, are you?"

"I wouldn't say I'm a singer but I've been told I don't exactly sound like a cat being strangled"

"Could you sing something for me?"

"Uh, sure"

You start to strum the guitar and begin to sing.

A long, long time ago I can still remember how that music Used to make me smile And I knew if I had my chance That I could make those people dance And maybe they'd be happy for a while

But February made me shiver With every paper I'd deliver Bad news on the doorstep I couldn't take one more step I can't remember if I cried When I read about his widowed bride Something touched me deep inside The day the music died

Natasha immediately recognised the song and closed her eyes, listening to it and remembering Yelena.

So, bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye Singin', "This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die"

Did you write the book of love? And do you have faith in God above If the Bible tells you so? Now, do you believe in rock 'n' roll? Can music save your mortal soul? And can you teach me how to dance real slow? Well, I know that you're in love with him 'Cause I saw you dancin' in the gym You both kicked off your shoes Man, I dig those rhythm and blues I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck With a pink carnation and a pickup truck But I knew I was out of luck The day the music died

I started singin', bye-bye, Miss American Pie Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye And singin', "This'll be the day that I die This'll be the day that I die"

You looked up to see Natasha crying and you stopped immediately.

"I'm sorry, I thought you'd like it"

"No, I do. I just miss Yelena and whenever I heard that song I think of her"

"I shouldn't have played it, I was insensitive"

"Krolik, you were trying to do something nice and I really appreciate it, don't feel bad about that"

You walked over to her and wrapped your arms around her, enveloping her in a soft, warm hug. She wept in your arms for a while, finally letting herself miss her sister.

That day pushed you over the edge. You knew you had a crush on Nat but that's all you thought it was, a little crush. But holding her in your arms as she laid all of her feelings on you, trusting you with them, with herself, that changed everything. You couldn't deny it any longer, you were in love with her. You were so in love with her it hurt. You were at that stage, the stage where if she smiled you smiled and if she hurt you hurt. You wished you didn't feel like this, you hoped, begged and prayed that these feelings would go away but you still loved her.

You knew that you couldn't literally run from your problems but going for a long run was the only way you could think of to clear your head. You often went for midnight runs, they made you feel alive. You could feel your blood, you could feel it pumping through you, through your big dumb heart. You just kept running and before you knew it, hours had passed. You made your way back to the cabin and you flipped onto your bed. You felt defeated, like somehow running didn't get rid of your feelings. You laid there for a while, still not being able to sleep. You turned over and saw that old guitar you had found in the attic. You walked over and took it in your arms, brushing your fingers along the strings. You didn't know what was happening exactly, it was almost like the melody was coming from within you. It was like your were pouring your heart and soul into the notes and it was helping. Not by a huge amount but it was like a small part of the weight on your shoulders was lifting, so you kept playing. After a while you sang, not much just....something.

When Nat woke up she walked past your room and heard you. She just stood in the doorway, watching you and listening to you, listening to your beautiful voice.

I know this smile That's on my face I know this feeling I know this place

I know it well 'cause I've been here before But this time I'm lookin for so much more Gotta let out gotta let you know Oh oh oh

That I've got a little crush on you And I could let it go but I don't want too I lose control when we're together I wanna kiss you, hug you, touch you, love you, caress you I'm totally obsessed with you Let's turn this crush into forever Into forever yeah

I know this look That's in my eyes Givin' out my secret It's no surprise

That I've been walking on air for quite some time With a strong ambition to make you mine Gotta let it out Gotta let you know Oh oh oh

That I've got a little crush on you And I could let it go but I don't want too I lose control when we're together Oh I wanna kiss you, hug you, touch you, love you, caress you I'm totally obsessed with you Let's turn this crush into forever Into forever yeah

I wanna kiss you I wanna hug you I wanna touch you Baby let me love you

And I got a little crush on you And I could let it go but I don't want too I lose control when we're together Hey I wanna kiss you, hug you, touch you, love you, caress you I'm totally obsessed with you Let's turn this crush into forever

I wanna kiss you, hug you, touch you, love you, caress you I'm totally obsessed with you Let's turn this crush into forever Into forever yeah

You looked up from the instrument in your hands and saw the morning light peeking through the curtains. You stood up and turned around to see Nat, who upon seeing you, started to fumble and blush.

"Oh uh, hey" She barely spoke above a whisper.

"Morning Nat, what um, what are you doing here?" You asked, rubbing the back of your neck anxiously.

"Nothing, just, walking past"

"So you didn't happen to, hear anything?"

"No, nothing at all"

"Oh, good. I mean not good, not bad either, I-I-I just mean there was nothing to hear"

"And I didn't hear it"

"Right"

"Okay"

Nat scurried off to the kitchen, trying to flee from what was very possibly the most awkward conversation in human history. You knew she heard you, how could she not? She was probably just being nice, sparing your feelings by ignoring the situation. But in doing that she ignored you. She avoided you for days and you thought you'd ruined the only true friendship you had ever had. She told you she had to leave for a few days and as much as you wanted to, you didn't argue with her.

You heard a loud, windy noise outside and you peered through the window to see a jet landing in front of your cabin. You thought that the government had finally found you but then you saw Natasha step out with short blonde hair, that was her, wasn't it? You opened the door and went to see her.

"Changed your hair?"

"Yeah, you like it?"

"Yep, suits you"

"Thanks"

"So, what's the deal with that?" You ask, pointing to the jet behind her.

"We're gonna go and pick up some friends, that is, if you'll come?"

"Course I will, I didn't think you'd want me"

"I always do, you know that"

You just look at each other for a few minutes with soft smiles on your faces, both of you choosing to ignore what had happened before she left.

"Do I need to pack a bag?"

"Probably just a change of clothes and some weapons"

"Sweet" You walked back up to the door and reached a hand inside, pulling out a black duffel bag "Let's go"

"You keep one of those by the door too?"

"And under the bed"

"You're more like me than I thought"

"You're more like me than I thought"

She just looked at you and smiled as you walked to the jet.

"Nat?"

"Yeah?"

"Was that explosion on the news you?"

"Yeah"

"Bitch"

"What?"

"You know I love explosions, you should've invited me"

"Next time, Krolik"

You boarded the jet and flew off to get your friends. Together.

You dropped Clint and Scott off with their families and Wanda with Vision. You and Nat brought Steve and Sam back to the cabin.

"If I had known you were loaded I would've kissed up to you a lot more" Sam said as he walked through the door.

"Don't think you could, you'd have to stop kissing Steve's ass for a second and I don't think that's possible"

"Damn, how long have you been saving that one up for?"

"A while"

"You have a very lovely home" Steve said as he turned to you.

"It's not really mine"

"What do you mean?"

"I killed a bunch of nuns and took their house"

"What?! You killed nuns?!"

"No but that never gets old. It was my aunt's, she died"

"Oh, I'm sorry"

"Pigeon Boy, your room is down here"

"Come on! At least say Pigeon Man"

"No chance, Steve, your on the left"

"Oh you just did that to piss me off" Sam retorted.

"Why Samuel, whatever do you mean?" You asked in a faux innocent tone.

"You know"

"Why don't we just settle in?" Steve asked.

"Go, I'll get started on dinner"

"You can cook?"

"Yeah, a hell of a lot better than you, too"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah"

"Just go to your room Wilson" Nat said, in an already tired tone.

The boys got settled in their rooms and you went through every recipe book you had, trying to find the best thing you could make to prove Sam wrong. You cooked a beautiful meal, which Sam reluctantly admitted and you all went to bed. You were able to get some sleep but still not much.

You enjoyed spending all of that down time with the others, it was nice to have people around, you had forgotten what it was like. Except in the mornings, then you hated it. Sam always took really long showers and rarely left any hot water so you had to get up way too early if you wanted to have one and you forgot how many punching bags Steve went through, literally.

There was still a lot that was left unsaid and a lot of tension hanging over you all so you decided to fix that. You were never one for sharing your feelings so you picked the best thing you could think of to break the ice. Alcohol. You drove to the liquor store in town and loaded up with plenty of vodka and beer.

"Alright" You said as you placed a bottle of vodka and four shot glasses on the table "Drink up"

"Why do you want us to drink? And why are there four glasses, I can't get drunk" Steve questioned while Sam and Nat started pouring.

"We are drinking to loosen up and yes, you can get drunk" You answered as you pulled a small vial out of your pocket "Asgardian liquor, I got some off Thor last time he was here"

"He just gave it to you? He wouldn't give any to me" Sam muttered the last part.

"He said, and I quote "As you are the only mortal I trust to be responsible with it, here, some of the finest liquor in all of Asgard!" You accentuated the last part.

"He really said you were the only one he trusted?"

"I quoted"

Sam grumbled a little to himself and downed a shot "Holy shit! What is this, lighter fluid?"

You and Natasha both yelled out "Language!" and laughed.

"That was like 2 years ago guys" Steve moaned.

"We know" Nat quipped.

You continued to drink for a while and you started off with simple questions, testing the water.

"Best fight?" Sam asked.

"I've gotta say, the time I knocked Captain America on his ass" You looked to Steve with a big grin.

"Well I've got ya beat"

"Oh do tell"

"I punched Hitler"

"What?! Why don't they put that in the museums?!" You blurted.

"Well I think we've established a clear winner" Nat awarded.

"Thank you, thank you, you're too kind" Steve bowed like he was accepting an award.

"Kay, how about, biggest regret?"

"Damn, Sam. Getting kinda dark" Nat said.

"Leaving Peggy and Bucky" Steve almost whispered into his glass.

You scoot closer to him and pat a hand on his shoulder "You did what you had to and you didn't know about him"

"Mm, still"

Natasha looked at you, showing comfort and compassion to a man you had resentful feelings for not too long ago and she thought about one of her regrets. She thought about that day she heard you singing about a crush, she thought about how much she wished you were singing about her. She poured a shot and downed before pouring another.

Seeing how sad it made Steve to think about Peggy you thought about your biggest regret and in your alcohol fuelled haze you stood up and walked over to Natasha. You leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss, soft and sweet while you were full of nerves. You pulled away and Nat looked up to you, her lips slightly parted as she was still in shock.

"Finally" Sam leaned over to Steve and whispered.

"I'm sor-

Nat's lips against yours shut you right up. Your mouths moved together in perfect synchronicity, tongues fighting and teeth clashing. You broke apart, gasping for air and you took her hand in yours, guiding her to your room.

"Goodnight?" Sam asked, sarcastically confused.

As soon as you entered your room you threw the door shut and pressed Nat up against it. "You sure?" You asked, your breath hot against her face, reassuring her that she was certain.

She looked up at you through thick lashes, her eyes glowing as she nodded yes. You swear you stopped breathing for a moment, the moment you leaned in. You had just kissed her but this felt...real. Your face gradually approached hers, your gaze flickering from her eyes to her lips. Her beautiful pink lips that you now knew tasted sweeter than you ever could've imagined. Your mouths moulded together as if you were once one perfect being, only now finding each other again. Your hand cradled the back of her head and her palm slid up your arm and up to your face. Her thumb gently grazed along your cheek making you quiver. Your other hand was pressing into her side, not too hard but hard enough that she felt it. You walked over to the bed, not breaking apart for a second. She leaned back against the pillows and pulled you with her. You hovered over her, kissing her deeply and moving slowly with her. Your lips moved further down, sucking and kissing and biting purple marks all over the soft slope of her neck. You pulled her shirt off along with your own and tossed them to the side. Your fingers toyed with her bra clasp, teasing her. She writhed under you, you weren't sure if she was trying to get her bra off or to feel some kind of friction, either way you loved it. She let out a soft whimper, the sound boring through you. You bit her lip for making such tantalising sounds. You re-positioned yourself and set to work on making her feel more than she ever had before, you had a very interesting night ahead of you.

You woke up with her in your arms, she looked angelic. He hair fell across her face, her lips parted as she slept and she was illuminated in a beautiful golden hue. Your hand brushed a few strands of hair out of her face and you leaned down to kiss her. You felt her lips moving back against yours, notifying you that she was awake.

"Good morning"

"Mmm, morning Krolik"

"Last night was"

"Amazing"

"Yes it was"

You laid together for a while, taking comfort in each other's warm embrace.

"You know" She started, somewhat unsure "I did hear you, singing. It was beautiful"

"It was about you"

"It was?"

You laughed quietly "Who else?"

She just stared up at you smiling, God how she loved you "Well then what do you say?"

"To what?"

"Do you want to turn this crush into forever?"

"Nothing would make me happier"

Tags:

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342 @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @yelldontwhisper @justhereforthememesnangst @lonely-core

[urmomisunderme2]

Guilty as sin

Warning: daddy kink, wet dreams, watching (i don’t remember what it’s called😭) and I don’t remember but smut

When your back for home for summer you never know what could happen, especially with your dads best friend Natasha…

——-

"Nat fuck nat please-oh god please" you moan as Natasha rubs your clit "you like that detka hm?" You buck your hips toward her hand but she moves away"no natty no please-" you whine "patience little girl... you gonna love this even more" you watch her standing at the end of the bed taking of her belt and jeans and pulling down her boxers just enough for her cock to stand proud, she moves back onto be and lines up to your core and just when she's about to split you open... *buzz buzz buzz* your alarm goes off, yet another night you've had a wet dream about your daddy's best friend.

Being home for summer was amazing, it was nice to see your dad again although that feeling can get old fast sometimes, this time faster then anytime before when you had only be home for about 5 minutes when your dad asked if you’d been getting any at uni, what the fuck, that was a crazy thing to ask but that’s what Tony stark was like as a dad and honestly it wouldn’t be as awkward as it was if you didn’t have a crush on his best friend who you’d be having wet dreams about for months.

You get out of bed put on your silk robe that Natasha had given to you for your 19th birthday a few months ago, you walk out your room and down to the kitchen to get a glass of orange juice. As you walk through the hallway and get closer to the kitchen you can hear your father talking with someone. You enter the kitchen to see the woman featuring in all your pantie ruining dreams, Natasha Romanoff looking as gorgeous as ever even in her black t shirt and grey sweatpants making parts of her really stand out, this was not what you needed after the dream you just had.

Natasha smiles as she see you wake in starting to walk over to you from where she was standing leaning against the counter.

“Such a sleepy girl” she says pulling you into a hug, something you hadn’t given her in months since your crush had amplified to this crazy level of neediness “finally a hug from my girl” she said pulling you closer but all you can focus on now is how you can feel her shaft against your front. You had known Natasha your whole life and as soon as you started to have crushes she was your first and longest, you’d had a crush on her now since you where twelve obviously the feelings you felt had changed a bit over time with a sexual need too. 

“Hi” you say as she pulls away “hey dad” you greet your dad and walk over to the fridge to get some orange juice “how was your sleep?” Your dad asked, he could tell something was up, you blush at his question as you fill your glass and turn back around to face them, leaning back against the counter opposite them “Emm…okay I guess” your face was only blushing more “you don’t seem very sure” Natasha looked at you with an unreadable expression “just like dreams and stuff you know” “dreams not nightmares, ohhhh someone having sex dreams” Tony teases, you look over at him with a death glare can’t he just be a normal dad for once “dad really?” You look over at Natasha embarrassed “hey don’t look at me to save you I’m just as interested” Natasha smirks.

“I’m not even- ugh imma shower” you leave the room before you somehow reveal who it’s about. You go back to your room and into the bathroom as you had an ensuite bathroom, you drop the robe and turn the shower on, after a minute you walk into the rainfall shower.

You can’t help yourself as your had slides down to clit rubbing in tight circles as you think of Natasha, imagining her doing this to you, kissing down your neck, telling you what she wants to do to you “Natasha… fuck…” you moan as you cum glad that the house you live in is absolutely giant.

You step out of the shower and wrap yourself in a towel, walking into your bedroom jumping a little when you see Natasha standing in your room with a smirk on her face “Natasha what are you..” you stop before you finish just now realising she may have heard you. “I came to leave you some pastries for after your shower but I just couldn’t help but stay when I heard those lovely noises you where making detka”

You freeze as Natasha walks over to you pulling you in and kissing you harshly, her hands falling to your ass. You both pull away for breath.

“On the bed princess” you walk backwards until you fall onto the bed and spread your legs open, your towel had fallen off at some point as you only notice. Natasha stands at the end of the bed “touch your clit detka” she commands and you do, moaning a little as your body is still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Natasha watches over you with her hand falling into her pants starting to touch herself too.

“If you’re a good girl and tell me want you want you can have more princess” you speed up wanting even more but it’s not her, it’s not enough without her touching you “I want you natty please, rip me open please, do anything to make I don’t care just fuck me!” You scream and before you know if Natasha is on top of you and pushing herself in your cunt “call me daddy detka” you can’t help but hold back your moan, Natasha was so big, you’d never had anything this big in you before “yes daddy”

“Good girl” Natasha says kissing and nibbling at your neck “faster daddy please daddy I need to…” Natasha listens to you speeding up and bringing one of her hands down to rub your clit “cum for daddy princess…daddy’s gonna cum in you…fill you up with my baby’s” a few seconds later you cum with a scream.

Natasha keeps railing into your sensitive core “daddy I-“ you whine but are interrupted by Natasha “fuck detka fuck daddy’s gonna cum” and she does, filling you full with her cum.

She fall down next to you giving you a kiss on the cheek “I’m glad I heard you in the shower, god I wanted you so bad and hopefully now you’ll be filled with my baby’s all plump and pregnant”

——

Tag list: @idkwhatever580

[snailpebbles]

a night to remember

Natalie Scatorccio x fem! reader

summary: after a brief encounter with your sister Laura Lee, you spend some time with your girlfriend. What could possibly go wrong?

tags: angst then fluff then angst, hah, technically an ambiguous ending if I write a part 2, ANGST, Nat calls u angel, religious uh problems, Laura Lee sister lfg, making out

wc: 1.2k

🖤

It's going to be a good night, a great night even! Everything has lined up perfectly so far: parents gone to bed early, Laura Lee was less nosy, and Nat managed to steal the car keys from her mom. You looked cute too, the two hours spent agonizing over what to wear definitely worth it.

Then there's a knock on your door before it opens.

“What are you doing?" Laura Lee asks, rubbing sleep from her eyes. You blanch, debating on saying she's hallucinating or to just be honest. She beats you to it.

“Are you sneaking out again?" Her voice is more awake now and her posture straightens, eyeing you suspiciously. Fuck, you need to do something.

“If you tell I will burn that bear." Okay! Little too much! It has its intended effect though as Laura Lee fully walks in, shutting the door behind her. She's fully awake for sure, arms crossed disapprovingly in a way that mimicks your mom.

"Are you going out to see Nat again? You know this isn't..” She trails off, voice still a whisper. It hurts your chest, every breath an ache of her disapproval. Your feet bring you closer and you hold onto her shoulders, trying to be as convincing as possible.

" Please don't tell them.” You whisper. Laura Lee's face contorts to consideration, but she's definitely uneasy. The ceiling fan creaks above you as the house stays silent, only one lamp on to illuminate the scene.

"You can't..what would He think? You barely even come to service anymore-” You cut her off, tired of the spiel. It was a long time ago that you stopped believing in whatever this is. How could something meant to love be so punishable? Laura Lee shifts awkwardly on her feet, teddy bear in her left hand.

“I won't tell if you go back to bed." She offers, eyes darting to the window behind you as if waiting for that telltale bleach blonde to appear. You sigh and shake your head. It's when she steps away from you and near the door that the panic starts.

“Laura Lee please! You can't tell.” You're borderline begging now, catching the other half of her teddy bear. She has the decency to feel bad and pause, turning to you. There's a faint rumble from down the street.

" This isn't right..she's..she's not..” Your sister struggles to say it, just speaking it makes it too real. You try again, one hand squeezing hers. Desperation gnaws in your chest - you're running out of time.

" I love her. Isn't that what this is all about? What matters?” You whisper harshly, emotions swelling in your chest as you admit it. You love this girl so fucking much but damnit why does she get here so fast? You've got maybe a minute. Time for the big guns.

"I can't -” you quickly cut her off, " if you tell, you will never see me again.” The ultimatum shocks your sister's system, the bear loosening in her grip. A tap at the window.

" You'd.. you'd choose her over me?” Laura Lee's whisper is full of hurt, a sadness you never would wish to cause. But you did so you nod. Ignore the tears that well in her eyes and yours.

"If you choose God over me, yes.” You speak softly. The bear falls to the carpeted floor with a soft thud before you turn your back. Nat waits at the window, watching with concern.

“Everything okay?" She whispers, eyeing her teammate before her eyes soften considerably on you. You nod and hold onto her shoulder as you slide out of the window. Laura Lee leaves your sight and your chest feels light again.

" C'mon, I'll cheer you up.” Nat wiggles her eyebrows and you laugh, following her into the car. She opens the door for you, kissing your cheek before she gets in and drives off down the quiet road.

🖤

The stars are your only witness as you park at the top of a hill, Wisayok far below. She lays a blanket out of the hood of the car where you both then sit, your head on her shoulder. The breeze is cool but her arm warms you where it sits around your waist.

“You look so pretty." you whisper to the wind, eyes admiring the way the moonlight highlights her features. Her ears flush a pretty pink and lips split into a grin when she looks at you.

“Okay smooth talker." She teases. Those same lips press a grateful kiss to your forehead, making you cuddle closer with a sigh. It's easier to pretend the world loves you when the world is just you two. After a minute of soaking in each other, she breaks it with a kiss. Her lips are chapped and you faintly taste a vice, but it's her.

A hand cradles the back of your head, kissing you like you're made of the sweetest sugar glass out there. A soft breath and meaningless whisper greet you as she pulls away, grinning at how dazed you seem.

“You make it hard to think straight.." You mumble, nose nudging against hers. She snickers and instantly you regret your word choice.

“Well do I have news for you.." She drawls, making you smack her bicep. With a dramatized gasp of pain she starts tickling you, one arm staying around your waist so you don't go tumbling off the car.

“I give up! I give up!" You laugh, writhing beneath her traitorous hands and evil grin. Her eyes fill with affection as she takes in your smile and the way you're still so relaxed.

"I love you angel, y'know that?” She breathes the words of what you're told is sin. So, you say them right back with molten honey love.

“I love you too, even if you're a little weird." You can't resist the tease or the kiss you press to her lips. It shuts her up thankfully - you even earn a nicely pleased groan.

It's soon that you're tugged up into her lap, straddling her with knees already sorely pressing into the car hood. None of it matters though - not when her hands are gripping the back of your neck and your arms tighten around hers. It's all too warm, too good, too addictive. Nat slips past your lips, getting her favorite taste and subsequently her favorite sound; a surprised yet pleased gasp. Your hands slip into her hair, tugging and scratching so your lips can nip at hers. She takes it all in hungrily, pulling you closer, closer, closer until no more space can be left. Cold rings press into your thighs, sending pleasurable shivers through you.

Maybe that's why you don't hear the slamming of the car door, the crunch of the leaf covered grass, and the angry panting until you're both on the ground. Your dad pushed you both into the gravel, small rocks digging into your skin.

“Shit-" Nat is up before you, pulling you off the ground and checking you over. At least she was until you're yanked away by your father's furious hand, only able to listen in horror as your mother slaps your girlfriend. Her lips are still kiss bitten and her hair still mussed, but she looks devastated. You don't even register the screaming and the slurs and the crying as you're forced into the back of the family car.

Laura Lee is there, bear in her lap. She tries to give it to you but you push it into the floorboard, unhearing and unseeing.

Nat watches in horror as you're ripped away so quickly. The air stings now and the breeze goes silent, even the stars dim. You might not have heard it but she did. A conversion camp.

[wandanatsgf]

Drunk and Needy

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 841

Summary: after a night of drinking you cling to your girlfriend Natasha

“Another one please,” you tell the bartender in front of you. You were currently at a club, trying to relax with the team after a stressful mission that you just had. The bartender hands you another drink, which you happily gulp down.

Your girlfriend is sitting in the booth with all of your teammates, while you and Wanda dance and drink together.

“This is so fun, we should do this more often,” you tell Wanda as the two of you move to the beat.

“We should i haven’t had this much fun in forever!” As the night goes on and you drink more and more, the two of you start to sway and giggle, not that you notice. You only notice how much fun you’re having and how free you feel.

“Woah,” you say as you stumble for the fourth time. “We should probably sit down,” you tell to Wanda, not noticing how loud you are.

“Yeah,” Wanda yells right back.

The two of you make your way to your teammates table when you stumble again only to be caught by your beautiful red head girlfriend.

“Natty,” you yell out. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“Hey detka,” she says. She wraps her arms around you, helping you to stabilize yourself.

“Hi Natty.” You look up at her with so much love and adoration in your eyes that it makes Natasha’s heart melt. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too milyya. You feeling okay?” Concern laces her voice, but in your drunken state you don’t catch on to that.

“Mhm I’m great Natty,” you slur. The way you’re acting says anything but that.

“Why don’t I take you home detka?”

“But I don’t wanna go home Natty,” you whine. “I wanna stay with you.” A pout forms on your face and tears fill your eyes at the thought of having to leave the beautiful woman in front of you.

“You don’t have to leave me detka. We’ll go home together okay?”

“Okay,” you happily agree, completely forgetting why you were upset in the first place. She takes you by the hand and leads you out to her black stingray. She helps you in and then climbs into the car herself.

“You’re not buckled sweetheart.”

“Yeah I am,” you argue.

“No you’re not, just look down detka you’re not buckled.” You look down, just like Natasha said to do, and it turns out she’s right. You’re not buckled.

“Oops,” you say. You grab your seatbelt and you attempt to buckle yourself in, but you miss the buckle every time.

“Natty this stupid thing is broken,” you whine.

“Here let me help,” Natasha says, trying to hold back her laughs. It takes Natasha no time to buckle you in.

“There you go,” she says.

“Wow you’re like a wizard or something. How’d you do that?” You ask, your eyes full of wonder and disbelief.

“I’m not drunk milyya that’s how.”

“I’m not drunk,” you indignantly say. “You’re the one who’s drunk.”

“Sure I am baby,” comes Natasha’s sarcastic remark.

“I’m glad we can agree on something,” you say, sleep suddenly overtaking your voice. You shut your eyes for what you think is a second and the next thing you know you’re being carried into the house by Nat.

“Natty?”

“Yeah it’s me baby.”

“You’re warm.” Natasha chuckles at your response. She opens the front door and walks the two of you to bed, with you talking the whole way there.

“you’re like really pretty. Like super duper pretty,” you babble. You stare up at Natasha’s face, watching the way her face contorts into a smile the more you talk.

“You’ve also got this laugh that’s like sunshine and oh my god don’t get me started on your fingers Natty,” you say, your raving about her starting to turn sexual. Natasha outright laughs at this because she knows you’d never admit this sober.

“I didn’t know you liked my fingers so much detka,” she says as she opens the bedroom door. She gently sets you down and goes to leave, but you reach out and stop her.

“Natty,” you whine. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m just getting some makeup wipes for you. I’ll be back in two seconds.”

“But I don’t wanna leave you,” you say, tears starting to form in your eyes.

“Fine,” Natasha says. She scoops you back up and takes you to the bathroom where she proceeds to removes your makeup and then hers.

“Now let’s get you to bed,” she says. She scoops you back up once again and puts you on the bed. She helps you change into something comfier and then changes herself. She climbs in next to you and you proceed to cling to her like a koala bear.

“You comfy baby?”

“Mhm,” is all the response Natasha gets. You adjust yourself occasionally, pushing the two of you closer, wanting to be as close to Natasha as possible. Right before you drift off to sleep you get Nat’s attention.

“Natty?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too baby.”

[uhhhj13iguess]

How are you doing today? If you are comfy doing a Peter Parker x fem Avenger reader based on this prompt?

You were nearly killed by enemy fire — shot three times. Thor flew you back in his arms, covered in blood. Bruce stabilized you. Barely.

Peter showed up last — too late.

When you briefly regained consciousness during surgery, you said one word:

“Peter.”

Now you’re back under, still critical. Peter sits outside the surgical bay, fists covered in dried blood. Wanda stands beside him, quiet.

“She called your name, you know,” she says softly. “Even when she was dying… you were the last thing on her mind.”

thank you so much for the request, i'm doing great!! i hope this lived up to what you were looking for, i loved this prompt. i love a hurt comfort bitch!! this is very loosely edited, be warned

please keep sending requests! i'm currently working on a few!

even on my deathbed

mcu!peter parker x avenger!reader

summary: you get hurt on a mission, and the last thing on your mind before losing consciousness is peter

wc: 1.5k

cw: description of gunshot/wounds, mentions surgery, swearing, sad and self-depricating peter, angst with a happy ending

masterlist and taglist!

the first bullet wasn't the issue.

a slight graze of your upper thigh, a burn more than anything else.

it wasn't even the second one, which caught your shoulder with a brutal force.

it was the third one. the third one, which ripped its way through your stomach, tearing apart everything in its path.

you hit the ground instantly, your legs giving way under you from the impact. everything around you felt like it was going in slow motion, a blurry scene playing out to the dramatic melody of the ringing in your ears. you slowly looked down to your hands, shaking violently as they fought to keep a steady pressure on the bullet wound. your vision grew spotty at the sight of them, stained crimson and drenched in blood. your blood.

it felt like years had passed when you finally looked up, your gaze ripped away with a firm pressure suddenly on your shoulder. it stung, but you were confident the muted pain wasn't nearly comparable to how the sans-adrenaline version felt. thor stood above you, wrapping your shoulder with part of his cape before ripping another, much larger piece for your abdomen.

he was talking to you but it fell on deaf ears, the ringing overpowering even the voice of a god. you could see the worry on his face as he bent down further to scoop his arms under your legs, lifting you with unbelievable ease, a stark constast to how heavy your body was beginning to feel.

you made your way back to the jet, bruce outside and eagerly waiting for you.

the next moments were a blur of transportation, hazy grey flooding your vision as you entered the jet on the gurney that felt way more comfortable than it should've. your eyes were heavy as you watched the team slowly begin to crowd around you, adorned with their own battle scars.

tony leaned close to your face, his voice drowned out by your haze. wanda was next, grabbing your hand tightly. sam, steve, bucky, everyone congested around you as they frantically spoke to each other, harsh emotions lacing their features as they talked.

darting your eyes through the swarm of avengers, you fought off sleep as you searched for the one pair you didn't see staring back at you: peter's.

just as everything started to fade and you felt your body fall, you heard a voice that put your mind at ease. even though you couldn't see him, knowing he was safe was enough. one word fell from your quivering lips as everything went black:

"peter."

peter didn't leave your side until the nurses had to physically pry him from the gurney.

he sat outside the med bay, still in his suit, bloodied and riddled with guilt. it was his fault this happened. he was supposed to be the one in that hallway, not you. it was supposed to be him heading to backup nat, not you.

peter cried into his knees, pulling them close to his chest as he replayed the mission in his head. how he missed the guy to his left, getting knocked down on his way to nat. how he didn't stop you from running past him to get to her.

sobs racked through him as he felt a presence at his side, ragged breaths turning into frightened hiccups. wanda gave him a soft smile as she sat next to him.

she took his hand in her own. "how are you holding up?"

peter gave her a sharp scoff. "how does it look like?"

wanda gave him a look, a stern one he usually reserved for may. he looked down, eyebrows furrowed together. "m'sorry."

"she called for you, you know."

peter's gaze snapped up to meet hers, a once-guilty face now turned confused. "what?"

"right before she lost consciousness, she called out your name," wanda gave in a soft voice, thumbs drawing soothing patterns on the boy's palm. "you were the last thing on her mind, even when she was dying."

peter felt his heart racing, thousands of thoughts swirling in his mind. she could feel it, squeezing his hand and offering him a hopeful smile.

"i think you should talk to her. she's out of surgery now."

he nodded, barely noticeable to the naked eye. wiping the tears from his cheeks, he stood up with a hand still in wanda's helping her up as well. peter immediately pulled her into a hug, his nervous system grounding itself in her warm arms.

"thank you," peter whispered, his voice quivering and on the verge of tears once more.

she pulled back, patting his cheek playfully. he admired how even in the worst, she made every attempt to brighten the mood.

peter watched wanda make her way back down the hall, nerves taking over his meek frame once again. did you even want to see him? were you mad at him? you should be, he thought. this was all his fault.

he shook it off, forcing his feet forward towards your recovery room. with shaking hands, peter gave soft knocks against the wood.

"come in," he heard you speak weakly, and a frown took hold of his face as he heard how broken you sounded.

as soon as he saw your near lifeless frame in the hospital bed, peter burst into tears. he rushed to your side, immediately wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into your neck. ignoring the pain coursing through you, you hugged him back, easing some tension peter was holding onto.

"i'm so sorry, i'm so fucking sorry. it should've been me, it should've fucking been me that got hurt. i'm so sorry," peter rambled, hiccuping in your ear as he worked himself up.

you pulled back, tears flooding your own cheeks as you forced him to look at you. "peter, what the hell are you talking about?"

he shook his head violently, dishelved curls bouncing about as he stared back with wide, blood-shot eyes. "i should've been the one walking down there. i should've known about the guy around the corner, it... it should've been me."

you pulled him close again, hands tangled in his hair. "peter, please. i don't want it to have been you. this wasn't your fault, this is what we do."

he choked out a sob, crushing you in his arms as he practically laid on top of you, despite the circumstances. whether it was the morphine or peter's presence, you didn't seem to mind.

"i'm so glad you're okay. i thought i lost you, i-- fuck," peter hiccuped.

this time, he pulled back first, his large, shaking hands coming up to cup either side of your face. "i thought i lost you."

you gave him a tired smile. "you can't get rid of me that easily, parker."

peter mirrored your smile, eyes fluttering around your face and taking stock of all your scrapes and bruises. he lingered on your lips, sending butterflies through your ripped-up insides.

"peter, i--" your voice cracked, bottom lip chewed to shreds as you fought to find your words. "i thought i was going to die."

his lips fell to a frown, concern and guilt on his features once again.

"i know bug, i'm so sorry. i'm so sorry."

you shook your head at him. "no, pete. i don't want you to feel bad. i just mean.,

"i thought i was going to die. and all i could think about... was you."

the last part was a whisper, a secret shared between the two of you. peter furrowed his brows together, not quite understanding.

"i'm sorry to worry you."

you gave a frustrated sigh. "no, not like that, peter. i didn't want to die not, not... telling you how i feel. about, you."

his eyes grew wide, a flush taking over his cheeks. "you were thinking about... me?"

you nodded, nervousness taking over as your bottom lip found its way between your teeth again. "mhm."

"oh,"

"oh."

"yeah," you averted your gaze, suddenly regretting every action you've made since waking up. maybe this was just a pain med-induced dream. hopefully. you chewed mercilessly at your lip, a tinge of metallic dancing across your tongue as you drew blood.

you felt peter's thumb on your lip, causing you to relax it and meet his eyes once again. they were much softer than before, once bloodshot and now bright.

"how about i go grab an endless supply of ice chips, you make room on that sorry excuse for a bed, and you tell me all about how you feel, about me?"

the morphine was no match for the way peter made you feel.