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yelenasdiary · 21 days ago

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Little Spidey

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Spider-Woman! Reader

Summary: After coming home from a long mission, you struggle to accept a little shift in your relationships.

Angst, Comfort, Fluff

Warnings: Brief mentions depression & loneliness | 1.3K

AC: Wrote this for my good friend, @scarletwidowblackwitch ! so sorry it took me forever to get this one out for you! I hope you enjoy! x

Your apartment was quiet while you lay in bed staring at the roof, usually your roommates, Peter and Kate would be making so much noise that a sleep in was almost non-existent in the small apartment. The time on your phone reading, 10:16am reminded you just how hungry you were. After getting home rather late last night, sliding through the door without making a sound, careful not to wake your roommates, you took a shower and fell as the second your head hit the pillow.

You wandered into the kitchen, the two friends of yours leaving it how they normally did. Their breakfast dishes in the sink, crumbs from the cereal box on the countertop along with some small droplets of milk. You shook your head with a soft, amused smile on your lips as you reached for a wash cloth to clean up after them.

After breakfast, you showered and gave your suit a quick steam before you picked up your phone, the weather was beautiful today, the sun kissing the city of New York with its warm touch made you think about a nice catch up with you a friend or two in Central Park. You called Wanda first, knowing just how much she loved getting a latte and some fresh air but your call went to voice mail, maybe she was on a mission you thought.

Next you tried your roommate, Kate but no answer then you tried your luck with Peter.

“Hey, Y/n, what’s up?” The young adult happily asked.

“I just wanted to know if you were busy? Thought we could grab a smoothie and hang out?” You replied.

“Wait, when did you get back? I thought you were still on that big job?”

“Uh, last night. I didn’t want to wake you or Kate, so I was pretty quiet” you lightly chuckled.

“Welcome back! I would hang out today but Tony’s got me doing training in this new suit he made me, can we do a rain check?” He questioned with doubt in his voice.

“Of course, let me know whenever you’re free” you did your best to sound unbothered before Peter said he’d text you before hanging up the line. You let out a light sigh before you checked the Avengers app that Tony created to keep up with who was on missions and to no surprise, Natasha was on a mission, Bucky was on a mission, Steve was with Bucky, Sam was booked for training, Tony was with Peter and Kate was with Clint on someday training trip. With that information, you tossed your phone on your freshly made bed and decided to go to the gym for an hour or so.

As the days went by, you couldn’t help the negative thoughts that dawned on you. Almost everybody had returned from their missions and were staying at the compound to catch up on mission reports. You joined them all at the compound but the quietness that you woke up too days before still lingered. You wondered if you were annoying those around you, your text messages went unread, or you only got short replies back. Plans to catch up went abandoned leaving you alone while your insecurities dawned on you.

A week has floated by you while you did your best to keep yourself distracted from the loneliness that crept into the apartment, your roommates barely coming home for more than a nights sleep. The apartment still quiet over your favorite playlist that played in the background, nothing on the streaming apps seemed interesting enough to keep the silence from becoming louder at night. Rubbish from your favorite almost overflowing the bin in the kitchen reminding you to take it out in the morning.

You were getting yourself ready for bed when you heard a knock at the door, you couldn’t help but sigh lightly thinking it was probably the elderly neighbor with some gossip of yet another delinquent hanging around, suspiciously. You opened the door only to be met with the familiar green eyes and locks of red hair that you had missed dearly.

“Y/n! you’re back?!” Beamed Natasha as her eyes lit up, “nobody told me you were back, and I lost my freaking phone” she adds.

You give her a weak smile, knowing she probably wasn’t even here to see you in the first place. “I guess everybody has been busy, are you here to see Kate or Peter?” You asked causing Nat to frown slightly. “I needed to speak to Kate about something, but I don’t care about that, it can wait” she replied, giving you a soft smile, “my detka is home” she added.

The pet name getting the better of you as you felt your cheeks get warm. Natasha wrapped her arms around you and gently pulled you in for a hug, “I missed you so much” she said in an almost whisper. You felt yourself practically melt into her hold, missing the way her arms always felt like home. Her dark rose scented perfume leaving its mark on your clothing, a smell you forgot just how much you missed.

“Why don’t you come stay at mine tonight?” Your girlfriend asked, pulling back to look you in the eyes ones more. Her highly trained skills to read people never failed her when it came to you, she saw past the weak smile and the sadness in your eyes no matter how much you thought you were good at hiding. “I don’t know, I don’t wanna be a burden” you confessed to the widow.

“A burden? Honey, you could never be a burden. Besides we both know I have the best fluff blankets” She says, gently cupping your face before planting a soft kiss on your lips, “and maybe you can tell me what’s got my little Spidey so down” she adds.

You couldn’t help but chuckle ever so lightly at the nickname, “are you sure?” You asked, needing reassurance.

“Detka, if you think I’m leaving you alone, think again” she smirks.

“Let me go pack my overnight bag, come in” you smile softly as she walks in, closing the door behind her.

“Why don’t you pack a little more than just one bag?” The widow suggested.

You stopped in your tracks halfway down the hall, turning to face her once more, “Nat, I can’t just leave without telling Peter and Kate” you reply, “Rent is due next week, it wouldn’t be fair”

Natasha shrugged, “I’ll cover it and I think they would understand but if you’re not ready for that step it’s okay, I can wait”

You took a moment to think about her idea, you wanted nothing more to be able to spend more time with your girlfriend, especially after being away from her for so long but the guilt of leaving your roommates so suddenly dawned on you. “I would love too but I really, really don’t want to be a burden on you just because I’ve had a few lousy days”

Natasha, walking towards you reached out to hold your hand, “it’s not a burden to spend your life with somebody you care about. Change can be scary, but we all need it. Peter and Kate can find another roommate if they want, they’ll be okay. I really just want to share everything moment with you” she says, looking into your eyes while silence filled the room for you to think a little more.

“I guess I could talk to Kate and Peter tomorrow”

“That’s my little Spidey” Natasha smiles, “now you’ll be able to hear me complain about my cooking every night” she adds with a playful wink causing you to chuckle once more.

“Don’t worry Romanoff, I won’t let you burn the house down” you reply as she wraps her arms around you once more, “oh come on, the kitchen caught on fire once” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Once is more than enough” you smile before her lips find yours again.

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#fanfiction #marvel #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #spider-woman #natasha romanoff x spider! reader

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ghostofskywalker · 1 month ago

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Tabloid Buzz

Natasha Romanoff/Fem!Reader

Fictober 2024 Day 20 of 31

Words: 1,082

Summary: The rest of the Avengers like to tease Natasha about her (extremely obvious) crush on one of the biggest pop stars of the day. She just lets it happen, because they don't actually know the whole story.

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

The sound of a trashy gossip talk show was playing on the TV when Natasha stepped into the communal kitchen, and she just rolled her eyes as she registered the topic of discussion. Of course all her friends’ eyes were going to be on her now, no matter what she did to try and get them to give the topic a rest.

“Pop sensation Y/N L/N has secured herself the number 1 spot this week once again for her newest album, and all eyes have been on the singer in recent weeks. Despite the outwardly dark album imagery, this album hints at a new presence in her life, as evidenced by songs like “All I Wanted” and “Head In The Clouds.” Fans have been ravenous to know more, and are hoping that the upcoming Grammy awards will be a chance for Y/N to show off the person who’s got her so smitten. Even the title track…”

Natasha rolled her eyes as she pointedly ignored the television and began to pour herself a cup of coffee. However, Tony was apparently not going to let this go. “It seems you’ve missed your chance with your celebrity crush Romanoff,” he said, a teasing smile on his face.

“You do know what a celebrity crush is, right?” she asked, smiling as she watched Steve try not to laugh out of the corner of her eye. “It’s usually someone you never had a chance with in the first place.”

“For normal people maybe,” Tony responded, taking a sip from the mug in front of him.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Natasha said. “Besides, half the people in this room also have a crush on her.”

The quiet bustle of a busy morning stopped for a moment, and the look on Natasha’s face almost challenged someone to speak up and disagree with her statement. She knew she was right about it though, because between her, Sam, Wanda, and Clint (even thought the latter wouldn’t admit it) there was a startlingly large amount of your merchandise in the compound. The four of them had sat in the living room last year with every set of eyes glued to the TV as you crossed the red carpet at one of the many award shows, in an outfit that had made Natasha drool a little (which thankfully, no one else had noticed).

“Besides,” Natasha said, not really thinking before she spoke. “How do you know it wasn’t me who inspired this new album?”

That statement got the desired effect, and the kitchen was suddenly full of laughter, pushing away the silence that had ruled it seconds before. “That’s good!” Tony said, almost spitting out the sip of coffee he had just taken. “Romanoff, sometimes I forget how funny you are.”

The conversation shifted quickly after Tony’s comment, as different people in the room had to head off off to their meetings and missions for the day, and Natasha just smiled, content in knowing that there was so much that her teammates didn’t know.

Her phone buzzed right as the last person left the kitchen, and she couldn’t help but smile at the text that lit up her screen, from a contact labeled with your name and the heart emoji in your favorite color. Good morning love, it read. Are we still on for date night later?

Of course, Natasha texted back. I’ll pick you up at 8 <3

***

She had been doing well, hiding her budding relationship with you from the rest of her teammates, but her inevitable downfall came when she decided to sneak you into the compound one day when everyone else was away. In her defense, the various assignments, missions, meetings, and conventions that the rest of her team were on had a return date two days in the future, and these things never ended on time. She supposed it was just her luck that this time things would be different.

The two of you had fallen asleep on the couch, with the various half-eaten snacks you had enjoyed left on the coffee table (it was fine, they were tomorrow’s problem). When Natasha opened her eyes, she could see the clock across the room read 2 AM, and your head was resting on her shoulder. The simple sweats you were wearing were completely different than the glittering ensembles you wore on stage and at events, but you looked just as beautiful now as you did when she first saw you.

Her plan to fall back asleep was interrupted by the sound of the living room door opening, and Natasha’s eyes widened as she realized that someone must have come back early. There was no time to sneak you into her room, and she doubted that whoever had just walked in would simply not look in her direction, as the TV was still playing in the background.

Natasha turned her head right as Steve stepped into view, and immediately he raised his eyebrows at her. She wasn’t sure if he realized who was currently snoozing on the couch next to her, but she was not about to ask that question.

The look on her face was something between a plea for him to keep quiet and embarrassment that this even happened in the first place, but she trusted Steve. No words were exchanged in the moment, but an agreement was still made.

She could hear him in the kitchen filling up a glass of water, and her phone buzzed with a text. No one else is supposed to be back until tomorrow afternoon, it read. If you need any help sneaking her out, let me know.

Natasha breathed a sigh of relief, sending a thank you text in response, along with a promise to let him know if she needed him to run interference. Yes, she would have to tell everyone about this eventually, but she wanted a little more time to bask in the glow of her new relationship, and maybe even shock them by accompanying you to an event or awards show (since they seemed so dead set on teasing her about her feelings).

Her phone buzzed once more, and this time the text contained a link to one of the music videos from your newest album, titled “Only For You.” I guess we know who her muse is now, The message read. Natasha playfully rolled her eyes, but didn’t really bite back. She probably would have done the same thing for him anyway.

- the end -

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#ghostofskywalker.fictober #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #black widow x reader #marvel x reader

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http-shield · 2 months ago

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whatever you say, old man- bucky barnes

~ bucky barnes x fem!reader ~tags/cw: post endgame but no one is dead and life is good, think 2012 Avengers fandom where clint is in the vents yeah that is where I'm at, established friendships, pining, yearning, bucky is not used to new age dating rituals, explicit language, sexual tension ~ wc: 2.6k ~ not proofread

You: Hey, are we still on for tonight? Rita’s at 7?

Him: ye

“So you’re telling me this is normal?” Bucky’s tone is judgemental as he quickly reads over the words on your screen.

You nod, wordlessly confirming that situatuonships are a staple part of the modern dating scene.

Bucky’s brows furrow, eyes flicking from the lack of effort text message to your face as you lean over the bed, phone gripped between expertly manicured fingers. He blinks once, twice, as if taking the time to formulate a response that will rebuke your earlier confirmation without hurting your feelings. This is new for him. A habit he has only recently picked up upon developing his friendship with you. He usually isn't as careful with his words, not caring enough about the recipient's opinion or emotional well-being to warrant enough time and consideration when responding, but with you. It was another ball game entirely. Bucky doesn't want to hurt your feelings, to see you frown because of something he has said; in fact, he wants the opposite. To see you smile and laugh and blush because of him. For you to want to talk to him about anything and everything, share thoughts about your day and how things make you feel. Bucky wants to know everything that happens in that pretty little brain of yours, even if he doesn't necessarily agree with it. Normally he would take the time to sugarcoat his words, sweeten his tone and make it easy for you to swallow but this is a situation where he couldn't, doesn't, want to mince his words.

“There is no world where that is normal.” He stares at you, expression bored and a little annoyed. At you? Never. At the man on the other side of the phone? Incredibly so.

You groan at his very true statement and pull away, slipping the phone into the pocket of your cargos as you turn towards your open closet.

He’s right. You know he is.

There is nothing remotely normal about two grown adults being in a relationship that is defined by the amount of time the other left the first one on read, or how much emotional vulnerability there could be put on the table before the other got too scared and ran. There is nothing normal about being in your late twenties and having a grown man introduce you to his friends as a 'buddy’ despite having an entire draw dedicated to you in his apartment but you can’t admit that, refuse to admit that you know its wrong and desperate and frankly, demeaning. If you can't own up to your own patheticness, how are you supposed to admit it to the man you are secretly interested in. There would be nothing more humiliating than confessing that the only reason you are with and putting up with bullshit efforts from this other guy is to hopefully distract yourself from the desperate need you feel for Bucky. This new guy is mediocre at worst yet attainable at best and that is something you will live with until your crush on the super soldier is dead and gone and you can finally focus on something other than him.

——

You had spoken with Natasha about Bucky last night, her voice a soothing purr over the phone as she encouraged you to disclose your concerns about pushing the boundaries on your friendship with the super soldier.

“The worst thing that can happen is he says no and then you both move on.” She croons, voice laced with comfort and reassurance.

“Wrong.” You shake your head despite being on a voice call. “The worst thing that can happen is he says no, I lose him as a friend and then I’m stuck pining after someone who wants nothing to do with me” You place another dish in the washer before continuing with your point. “Or I push him before he is ready, again losing him as a friend, and now I’m left with the guilt of possibly taking advantage of a war veteran.”

“You take advantage of Steve all the time, how is this any different?”

“I take advantage of Steve to get someone to carry in the groceries. I’m not trying to date Steve.”

Natasha huffs a laugh. “What if he is interested in you as well?”

Your hands stop scrubbing at the pan in the sink.

“I can find out.”

Heat fills your body, your stomach twists at the idea of having that information. It would put an end to the constant yearning you feel, but the thought of finding out he doesn’t like you that way, that he sees you as no more than a friend will destroy you, humiliate you beyond all logical reason and you would be forced to cut off the friendship out of pure self-preservation.

You shake your head again. “I’m good.” And return to scrubbing your pan. “I'll just wait out the crush and then move on.”

——

“This isn’t the 1940’s anymore.” You sigh and completely shift your attention from Bucky to the mess that is staring back at you.

Endless outfit options are strewn about the small closet but so far none of them have come together, just single shirts, skirts, and pants all muddled in a heap of black.

“I know it's not the 40s but I doubt relationships and dating have changed that much." Bucky grumbles from behind you, the bed creaking as he shifts.

Another sigh, this one long and exaggerated as you will the frustration to leave your body. You want to turn to him and explain that you know all this, and are very aware of the fact that nothing about your current predicament is what you want. You want to be wooed with flowers and preplanned dates and soft kisses on hands and longing looks but that’s not the reality of life anymore and having to be reminded of it is getting annoying and your heart is starting to ache at the lack of effort given to you by your current choice of dating partner.

“You know if I was taking..” Bucky starts but you quickly cut him off with a whine of his name.

“James, please.” You don’t turn to face your friend, afraid to even glance at him because you know you will crumble. “I need help picking out an outfit so help me or go back to your room.”

--------

“You know if I was taking…” You don’t let Bucky finish but, God did he want to. His name on your tongue was enough to shut him up, to send a flush rushing to his face in a way that no man his age should blush, but he can’t help it. There is something about the way his name falls from your lips that has his mind racing to thoughts that should not be there, should not appear when the picture of you enters his mind.

“You know if I was taking you on a date, you’d get flowers and chocolates and champagne and those little baby dolls you like” is what he wanted to say before you shut him up with an annoyed grumble.

His intention wasn’t to display how things were different back in his day but to indicate exactly what you’d be getting were you about to go on a date with him, to explain the reason why you should go on a date with him and not some loser who couldn’t even formulate a fully fleshed out text message. How if you were to drop that kid, and say yes to Bucky he would gather the moon on string for you, pick every flower in every field, find every single little Sonny Angel there is and give them to you each and every day for the rest of your life, you would never be sat wondering why he isn’t calling or responding, if you were even going out the next day, if he even liked you. Bucky would make his feelings for you so abundantly clear that even a blind man would be able to see the signs, but you are his best friend and best friends don’t feel that way about each other. It’s all platonic hugs and hair tussles, cheeky jabs at each other over coffee, shared trauma and secrets over whatever dinner you bring to his apartment and he yours. There will be no dates, or long hugs that turn into kisses that turn into you beneath him, whimpering his name as he makes you feel oh so good.

Fuck.

Bucky’s entire body is on fire, and he needs to stop thinking about the way you would feel wrapped around him, his mouth on yours, the taste of you sweet on his tongue.

“Okay, what about this?” you announce as you walk into the bedroom from the ensuite. “Too much?”

You stand in the doorway, dressed in plain jeans and a black shirt.

“Too much?” Bucky is confused. “This is the outfit you wore to breakfast this morning.”

He is right about this too. You had worn a very similar outfit this morning, but tonight isn’t a full-on date, a semi-date, where things shouldn’t be that fancy so why shouldn’t you recycle your outfits. Bucky stands from the bed, readying himself to dig through the mountain of clothes that had formed at the entrance to the bathroom. He crosses the small space and squats before the clothing, fingers expertly rifling through the material, quickly brushing over the lace of bras and panties, before finding purchase on a black dress he thinks he has seen you in before. It might have been the dress you wore to a funeral or press conference, either way, it was not alluring in the slightest, not that you weren’t stunning in everything you wore, hell you could come out wearing a garbage bag and Bucky would be in awe of your beauty. It was just that he didn’t want your date to ogle you, to think of you the same way Bucky does so he is being a little selfish and conniving in his choice of garment.

“Where is he taking you?” His question is disguised as interest in the dress code but his real curiosity is far from an outfit.

There are two reasons why he needs to know where you will be tonight. The first is to judge whether this manchild is even worthy of a date with you, second if he knew the exact location and time, maybe he could show up and show out your date, make you realise what you deserve and how Bucky could be the one who gives it to you.

“We’re meeting at Rita’s down the road and then might see a movie, maybe something else. I’m not sure yet.”

“He hasn’t planned anything?” Bucky whips his head around to you, finding you standing there looking incredibly embarrassed at the lack of effort. What the fuck happened in the years he was gone?

The defeated shake of your head is enough to have Bucky’s chest aching. He sits back on his haunches; the dress discarded back in the pile and gives the outfit another look as he decides on where to go from here. “Yeah, I think it’s too much.” He nods and stands up, brushing his hands as if he had just completed an excavation on some ancient site.

“Go change back into your sweats ‘cause there is no way I’m letting you go on a date with a guy who can’t even plan something.” He nods his chin towards the bathroom, more of an order than a suggestion.

He watches you tilt your head back as you groan in frustration. “I’m not going through this again, old man. This is how it works now.”

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to get frustrated. He takes a step towards you, hulking 6’0 frame rising to tower above you with a somewhat menacing glare, but you know he will never hurt you no matter how much you push his buttons.

“I’m not talking about what it used to be like, little girl.” The jab at your age/generational difference comes out before he can register it, but he notices how your eyes widen. “This is about getting what you deserve.”

He pushes in on the space between your bodies, now chest to chest as you square your shoulders, not ready to back down from an argument despite knowing you will not win.

“And what’s that?” you stare up at him, brows raised in anticipation of his answer. You aren’t sure where this is going. If you are going to receive another lecture or maybe even a verbal beatdown as to why your standards for men are so low, a common topic of conversation between you and Natasha, but instead you are met with a soft smile as his Vibranium hand is raised and brushes against your cheek.

“You deserve flowers and preplanned dates and wine and jewellery and everything you could ever want.” Bucky’s voice drops into a whisper, cold fingers trailing soothing lines against your heating skin. “You deserve a man worshipping you, to be on his hands and knees begging to take you on a date. Not some punk who can barely put together a sentence.”

You hold his gaze, blue eyes staring intently as you shudder in a breath. “Who’s going to do that, huh?” your voice is small, no longer filled with the same bravado you had not a minute ago. “You know anyone who wants to do that for me, you send them my way Bucko.”

His metal hand slips to your cheek to your jaw, fingers pressing into your pulse points so he can feel the speed at which your heart is racing.

“I’d do it.” He states matter-of-factly, eyes dipping to your lips. “I’d do anything for you.”

Breathing becomes a little bit too difficult as his human hand traces up your bare arm.

“Anything?”

Bucky nods and dips his head until his face is mere centimetres from yours. “You didn’t let me finish before, but I'd give you anything you’ve ever wanted.” Fingers move to cup your chin and tilt your head up. “You want flowers, I’m a florist. Moon? Stars? I’m getting Stark to build me a rocket. Anything you want, you’re getting it.”

“And if I want you on your hands and knees barking like a dog for me?” You smirk, the mental image of Bucky on his knees panting like a puppy has your stomach twisting.

“Put a collar on me and call me Spot 'cause I’m yours, doll.”

The confession has your eyes widening.

“I’m all yours, from now until whenever you’re done with me.” Bucky whispers, breathless.

“And what if I want you to kiss me?” you ask, knowing he is waiting for your permission to do just that.

Bucky crumbles, his expression falling from that of teasing into one of pleading.

“I want you to kiss me, James.” You whisper.

His resolve breaks and he presses his lips to yours. Softly and timidly, closed mouth and restrained but as your hands reach out to grip his waist, a delicate gasp slipping past your lips, does he deepen the kiss. His mouth opens over yours, lips slotting against your plush ones, tongue darting out to test to waters only to be met with your slackening jaw. Bucky’s grip on you tightens as he continues to kiss you, afraid to let you go in case this was one of the many, many dreams he had where he woke up alone and confused, but as you bite down on his bottom lip, he is brought back to reality. Your hands on his waist, pull him tighter against you, the softness of your body had Bucky’s mind wandering to places it should not be. You pull back, pupils blown wide and lips parted as you pant. Bucky is just as breathless, hands cupping your face with a gentleness he doesn’t think you’ve ever known from the way you stare up at him.

“You’re not going on that date.”

“Whatever you say, old man.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

a/n: eee this is my first avengers fanfic since like 2018 pls be nice I just need something happy to think about clint living in the airvents, thor eating poptarts era was my happy place

#http shield ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ #✮⋆˙ bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x oc #avengers oneshot #avengers fanfic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff

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romugh · 2 months ago

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SENSUAL FREQUENCIES - NR

ROMUGH’S KINKTOBER

october 5th — phone sex, praise kink, orgasm control PART 2 TO SENSUAL UNRAVELING

DAY FOUR || kinktober masterlist || 2024.

pairing- g!p!avenger!natasha romanoff x avenger!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, g!p!bottom!natasha, phone sex, heavyyy praise kink, orgasm control, orgasm denial, mommy kink (SHE/HER PRONOUNS USED ONCE FOR READER i think) edging, slight degradation, 6k of pure phone sex guys, the beloved fleshlight making an appearance! natty would definitely give it a name tbh

wc- 6.5k *proud face*

a/n- could be read as a standalone. have fun reading, hornballs!! beware of the warnings :) also!!!!!!!! yesterday's (4/10) fic was going to be dedicated to someone for their birthday, but since i didn't post it i'll dedicate both this one and the originally planned one (that'll be posted tomorrow!). happy (belated, sorry) you, sweet @godhatesgoodgirls !!

prompts- phone sex, praise kink, orgasm control

synopsis- natasha misses you when you're away on a mission, so she takes you up on that "i'm just a phone call away if you get stuck" (except she's not stuck, she's hard, and she needs you to make it better).

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches

Natasha groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I can’t believe you...” “Believe it, Nat,” you teased, pulling her hands away from her face so you could see her flushed expression again. “I’m just a phone call away if you get stuck.”

Natasha had always prided herself on her control. She was composed, steady, able to focus under pressure no matter the situation. It was a skill she’d honed over the years, something that had kept her alive through missions, battles, and everything in between. But today, control was the last thing on her mind.

She had been throbbing all day.

It started as a soft ache, something she could ignore at first—just the usual longing for you, the way her body craved your touch, your voice, especially after so many weeks apart. You had been on an undercover mission for nearly seven weeks now. Seven long, lonely weeks without you by her side. It wasn’t unusual for either of you to be away for extended periods of time, but this mission had been different. She hadn’t seen your face in weeks, hadn’t heard your voice in days, and your last message had been three days ago, a short, cryptic text that gave her little reassurance. You’d told her this mission would be demanding, but Natasha hadn’t expected to miss you this much.

It wasn’t just the physical absence of you that hurt—it was the silence. The nights felt longer, the spaces between her texts to you emptier. She had filled the gaps with her own updates, sending you messages about everything and nothing. She sent you a good morning and goodnight every day, even if you wouldn’t reply. She told you what she ate, told you about the book she was reading (Tony had gifted it to her when he noticed her sulking, in that way he pretended wasn’t caring but totally was), and she told you about her workouts, debriefing you on everything she’d do. But now, after three days of silence from you and weeks of no calls, she felt a gnawing emptiness in her chest that matched the heat spreading through her body.

Her mind wandered back to you constantly, no matter what she did to distract herself. She had trained with Wanda earlier, sparred with Steve, attempted to cook with Vision (disastrous. She’s glad you weren’t there to see that chaos), even buried herself in the book Tony had given her. Nothing worked. All day long, the ache between her legs had only worsened, the throb of need pulsing stronger and stronger until it hurt. Every shift of her hips, every brush of fabric against her skin made her dizzy with want.

She had never been this horny in her life—not to the point that it was painful.

Natasha leaned back on the couch, letting out a frustrated sigh. She was a mess, and she knew it. Her thighs were slick with arousal, her body hypersensitive to every little movement. She tried to close her legs, to dull the ache, but it didn’t help. Nothing would help. Not unless it was you.

She thought about touching herself—her hand hovering over the waistband of her pants more than once. But she stopped herself every time. She knew it wouldn’t be enough. It never was. Her hand wouldn’t feel like yours, wouldn’t wrap around her the same way, wouldn’t tease her until she was dripping, desperate, begging for release. She didn’t want to do it herself. She couldn’t. Not when she knew how much better it would feel with you here, guiding her, taking control.

Her mind wandered to the fleshlight you had given her as a gift—a night she wouldn’t forget. She had been so shy about it at first, so unsure of how to use it without your help. That night had been the first time she had really let go, let you guide her, and the thought of using it again made her body ache even more. But it wasn’t the toy she wanted. The toy wasn’t you.

Natasha swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the cushions of the couch as she resisted the urge to move, to give in. Her cock twitched, swollen and painfully hard, straining against her pants. She had never felt this desperate before, not even when you were still just friends, dancing around your feelings. This need was overwhelming, consuming, and it was starting to drive her insane.

She had been on edge all day, her body vibrating with tension, her mind flooded with memories of you—your touch, your scent, the sound of your voice in her ear, coaxing her to let go. Her breath hitched just thinking about it, about how easily you could make her unravel. Her own hand couldn’t replicate that feeling, not even close. And her fleshlight? It wasn’t your mouth. It wasn’t your hand. Nothing was.

Her phone sat next to her on the couch, the screen black and mocking her with its silence. She hadn’t called you once during your mission, knowing better than to interrupt you, especially if you were in the middle of something crucial. But today? Today was different. She wasn’t thinking clearly anymore—her mind too clouded by the throbbing between her legs, the constant pulse of her need.

She had texted you countless times, but now her fingers hovered over your name, hesitating. Was it too much? Would you even be able to answer? What if you were in danger, or worse, what if her call put you in harm’s way?

Her heart raced as she stared at the phone, her thumb shaking slightly as she fought against the rising tide of desperation that threatened to take over. She bit her lip, trying to calm herself down, but the ache between her legs was relentless. She needed you. Now.

Before she could stop herself, her fingers moved on their own, dialling your number. The phone rang once, twice, and her breath caught in her throat. Each ring echoed in her ears, the tension in her body growing with every second that passed. Her hand clenched around the phone, her entire body trembling with need.

The moment your phone vibrated in your pocket, you felt your heart stop. You were just out of a tense situation—dangerous, even by your standards. You had barely slipped away, adrenaline still buzzing in your veins when you felt your phone buzz repeatedly.

Natasha.

It had been weeks since you last had her in your arms, and you hadn’t spoken on the phone in what felt like forever. But for her to call now, with no warning? Something was wrong. You didn’t even think, barely took the time to check your surroundings, before you ducked into a secluded corner and answered the call. Your voice came out in a rush, thick with worry.

“Nat? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end, and your heart clenched in your chest. You could hear her breathing—shallow, uneven, almost... trembling. Your mind raced, picturing the worst. Was she hurt? Had something happened to her while you were away?

“Natasha?”

She almost groaned at the sound of your voice. Her body reacted instantly, a wave of heat flooding through her, the ache between her legs intensifying until it was almost unbearable. She hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath until it escaped her in a shaky exhale.

“Natasha?” you pressed, trying to keep your voice steady despite the panic bubbling inside you. “Talk to me, baby. What happened?”

Another shaky breath, then her voice, “I... I need you.”

Natasha pressed her thighs together, but it did nothing to ease the pulsing in her core. She clenched the phone tightly, her voice dropping into a whisper. She didn’t care about pride anymore. She didn’t care about anything except the fact that she needed you.

Your heart skipped a beat, your stomach twisting with concern. You had heard Natasha vulnerable before, but this? This was different. She sounded desperate, almost like she was on the verge of tears, and it made your chest tighten.

“Nat, are you hurt? Where are you?” you asked, your voice soft but insistent. “I’ll be there as fast as I can, just tell me what happened. I can finish up the mission tomorrow if you need–”

“No, I’m not—” Her voice cracked, and she took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. “I’m not hurt, I just... I can’t...”

You felt a wave of confusion wash over you. She wasn’t hurt, but something was clearly wrong. You pressed the phone tighter to your ear, your mind racing, trying to piece together what she was trying to say. She wasn’t making sense.

“Nat, you’re scaring me. What do you mean? Can’t what?”

There was another long pause on her end, the sound of her breathing heavy and uneven, like she was struggling to get the words out. And then it hit you—a soft, strangled noise that wasn’t a sob, but... something else.

Realisation flickered in the back of your mind, and suddenly the pieces began to fall into place.

“Natasha,” you said slowly, your tone shifting, softening. “What’s going on, baby?”

“I... I can’t stop thinking about you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “It hurts.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the concern from moments before slowly melting into something else, something warmer, something more. The tension in her voice, the way she struggled to say the words—it wasn’t pain. Not the kind you’d feared. It was something else entirely.

But she still wasn’t saying it. Not exactly. And as much as you wanted to rush to her side, to help her through whatever it was she needed, part of you couldn’t help but play along. You could almost picture her on the other end of the line, flushed, embarrassed, trying to find the right words but too shy to admit what she really wanted.

“Natty,” you murmured, letting a teasing lilt slip into your voice. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound... off.”

“I—I’m fine,” she stammered, but her breath hitched, and the lie was as clear as day.

“You don’t sound fine. You sound like you’re upset. Or... something.”

“I’m not upset,” she blurted out quickly, the words rushing out in a desperate attempt to save face. There was another pause, and then, quieter, almost like she didn’t want to admit it. “I just... I miss you.”

You let the silence hang between you for a moment, pretending not to understand her meaning. She was trying so hard to make you understand without saying the words. And as much as you wanted to be there for her, to give her what she needed, you weren’t going to make it easy for her.

“Miss me, huh?” you teased lightly, playing dumb. “Well, I miss you too. But you sound like you’ve been crying. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m not crying!” she snapped, more frustrated with herself than with you. “I just... I—” She broke off, the words catching in her throat as she tried to gather her thoughts, tried to figure out how to make you understand.

“Natasha,” you said softly, your tone firm but gentle. “Tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need.”

“I can’t—fuck, I can’t say it,” she groaned, her voice dropping to a whisper. She sounded so defeated, so completely undone by her own need, and it made your chest tighten. You could practically feel her squirming on the other end of the line, trying to hold it together, but barely hanging on.

You bit back a smile, leaning against the wall as your voice dropped lower, more teasing. “You can’t say what, Natty? Come on, baby, use your words.”

There was a long pause, and you could hear her breathing pick up again, more shallow this time. You could practically feel the tension through the phone, the way she was struggling with herself, so desperate to ask for what she needed but too embarrassed to say it.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she finally admitted, her voice shaky, desperate. “I—fuck, I need you so bad. It’s... it’s been like this all day. It hurts.”

The vulnerability in her voice made your heart ache. But still, she was avoiding the words, the real admission. And you wanted to hear it. You wanted her to say it, to surrender completely to the need she was so clearly drowning in.

“I’m here, Nat. I’m listening,” you said gently, your tone coaxing. “But you need to tell me what’s really going on. I’m not a mind reader, baby.”

She let out a frustrated noise, somewhere between a whine and a groan, and you could almost picture her clenching her fists, trying to find the courage to say the words.

“I’m... I’m so wet, okay?” she blurted out, her voice shaking. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s so bad, i’m so hard, I can’t—” She cut herself off again, her breath hitching. “I need you to tell me what to do. It hurts, Mommy. It really fucking hurts.””

Her admission hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, and she could almost hear your heart quicken on the other end of the line. There was a long silence, and Natasha thought she might burst from the anticipation, her skin burning under the weight of it.

Your heart had skipped a beat at her words, the raw honesty in her admission making your chest tighten. But still, you couldn’t help but tease her a little more.

She had made you worry, after all.

“You’re wet?” you asked, your voice dropping lower, teasing. “Is that it? That’s why you called me?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper now. “Please, I can’t—fuck, I need you to tell me what to do. Please.”

You took a breath, letting her words hang in the air, savouring the way she had finally given in. And then, in a low, soothing tone, you said:

“Take off your clothes for me, Natty. Slowly. Let me hear you.”

There was a moment of silence after you told her to undress, and you could hear the hitch in her breath, the soft gasp as your words sunk in. Natasha’s mind was racing, her body trembling with a mix of need and nervousness, but more than anything, she wanted to be good for you. She wanted to please you, to do exactly what you told her.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. “I’ll do it. I’ll... I’ll be good.”

Her words sent a thrill through you, but you kept your tone steady, soothing, teasing her just enough to push her deeper into that space where all she could think about was you.

“Good girl,” you murmured, and you heard a soft whimper in response. Natasha’s breathing picked up, her body already reacting to the praise, her mind slipping into that sweet haze where she craved more of it—needed more of it. “Take your time, baby. Slowly. I want to hear everything.”

There was a rustle of fabric on the other end of the line, the sound of Natasha obeying, of her fingers fumbling with the buttons of her pants, her breathing shallow and uneven. She moved slowly, like you asked, and you could almost picture her—her flushed cheeks, her trembling hands, her cock throbbing painfully as she stripped for you.

“Tell me what you’re doing, Nat,” you coaxed softly, letting your voice drip with sweetness. “I want to know how you look right now. Tell me everything.”

“I... I took off my pants,” she whispered, her voice shaky with both arousal and embarrassment. “I’m just in my... my shirt.”

“Good job, Любимая моя [Lyubimaya moya, my darling]. What else?”

Her breath hitched, and there was another pause, like she was hesitating, but the need to hear your praise drove her forward.

“I—I’m taking it off. My shirt.” There was a soft rustle, followed by the quiet sound of her breath, the vulnerability in her voice sending a rush of heat through you.

“Good. You’re doing so well for me, Natty.” The words were like honey, soft and coaxing, and you could hear her shiver in response.

“Tell me how you feel, baby.”

“I... I feel so... hot,” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “I’m... I’m dripping, fuck... I need you so bad, Mommy.”

The admission slipped out before she could stop it, her voice shaking as she tried to keep herself together. But your praise was unravelling her, making her mind foggy, making her want to give in completely.

“Oh, sweet girl... you need me that bad, huh?” you teased, your voice soft but commanding. “Can you feel how wet you are?”

“Yes,” she whimpered again, her voice barely above a whisper. “I—I’m so wet. It’s all over my thighs. I—I can’t stop... I don’t know what to do.”

The helplessness in her voice made your chest tighten, but in a way that sent a surge of heat through you. Natasha was always so composed, so in control, but right now? She was unravelling, falling apart under the weight of her own need, and it was because of you. And you could hear how much she needed your approval, your guidance—how much she wanted to hear you say that she was being good for you.

“Touch yourself for me, Natty,” you said, your voice dropping into something firmer, but still gentle enough to coax her forward. “You’re doing so well already, baby. Just let Mommy hear you.”

There was a soft gasp, and you could practically feel her hesitation, her trembling hand hovering over herself, uncertain. You waited, your breath steady, listening as she slowly obeyed, her fingers brushing against her cock with a soft, desperate moan.

“Fuck,” she whimpered, the sound raw and needy. “I—I can’t... it’s not the same. It’s not you.”

You smiled at the frustration in her voice, the way she was already slipping into that headspace where all she could think about was you. You leaned back against the wall, your own arousal building at the thought of her coming undone, of her needing you this badly.

“I know, baby,” you murmured, your tone soft but firm. “But you’re doing so well for me. Keep touching yourself, just like that. You’re so good, Natty. Mommy’s good girl.”

The praise hit her like a wave, and she moaned, louder this time, her breath hitching as she stroked herself, her hand moving slowly, trembling with the need for more. But she didn’t want to go too fast. She didn’t want to disappoint you.

“I can’t—fuck, I’m so close already,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please, I—I can’t come yet, I need you.”

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, the warmth in your voice making her whimper. “You’re doing so well. But I think you can wait a little longer for me, don’t you? I can’t make you come yet, can I?”

Her breath caught in her throat, her body shivering at your words, at the way you teased her so sweetly. She wanted to come, needed to come, but she didn’t want to disobey you. She wanted to be good for you.

“Я знаю [Ya znayu, I know],” she whimpered, her voice soft, almost pleading. “I won’t. I’ll be good.”

“Good girl,” you praised again, and she shuddered, her body trembling as she tried to hold herself together, tried to keep from spilling over the edge. Her mind was yours now, clouded by the need for release, but your words—your praise—kept her tethered, kept her from giving in.

“Does it feel good, Nat?” you asked, your voice smooth and coaxing. “Do you like being Mommy’s good girl? Letting me hear you fall apart?”

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice thick with arousal. “Yes, please... please tell me more. I need... I need you.”

Her desperation made your heart swell, and you let the teasing lilt in your voice drop lower, more commanding, more intimate.

“You’re doing so well for Mommy, baby. I love hearing you like this. So desperate, so needy... you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she moaned, her body arching, trembling with the effort to hold back. “I’m... I’m your good girl. Please... I don’t know if I can...”

“You can,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm, coaxing her back from the edge. “You’re so strong, baby. You can wait for me. You want to be perfect for me, don’t you?”

“I do,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “I—I want to be good for you. I’ll wait, I promise.”

The praise, the control, the way you spoke to her—it was driving her mad. Her mind was slipping further into that haze, the only thing keeping her grounded was the sound of your voice, the warmth of your words. She wanted to make you proud, wanted to hear you tell her she was good. She needed it.

“You’re so good, Natty,” you cooed, your voice dripping with praise. “So perfect for me. I want you to keep touching yourself, but don’t come. You have to wait for Mommy to be back.”

She moaned again, her hand trembling as she continued to stroke herself, her body shaking with the effort to hold back. She was so close, the heat in her belly coiling tighter, but she wanted to be good. She wanted to wait for your permission.

“Please,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please, I—fuck, I really don’t know if I can...”

“You can, baby,” you murmured, your voice soft but commanding. “You’re doing so well. I know it hurts, but I want you to hold on just a little longer. For me, for Mommy.”

Natasha whimpered, her body trembling with the effort to stay in control, but your words were like a lifeline, keeping her grounded, keeping her focused. She wanted to make you proud, wanted to be your good girl.

“I’m so close,” she whimpered, her voice shaking. “Please... please, can I...?”

You smiled, hearing the desperation in her voice, knowing she was teetering right on the edge.

“Not yet, baby,” you whispered, your voice low and teasing. “You need to wait for Mommy.”

The streets of Budapest were eerily quiet, save for the soft rhythm of your boots on the pavement. You were slipping through the shadows like a ghost, your focus razor-sharp despite the chaos you’d just escaped. Yes, the mission has been rough—rougher than you’d like to admit—but the adrenaline in your veins was now blending with something else, something far more potent.

Natasha was falling apart on the other end of the line, her breath shaky, thick with desperation. The sound of her voice—strained, needy—made you quicken your pace, eager to get somewhere private, somewhere you could finally give her your undivided attention. The safehouse was just a few blocks away now, nestled in a quiet corner of the city, secluded enough for what you had in mind.

“Please,” Natasha whimpered, her voice trembling. You could hear the slick sound of her hand stroking herself, painfully slow, just as you’d ordered. She was holding back, her body strung so tightly with need it was almost unbearable. “I need it, please… I can’t—fuck—I can’t hold it anymore.”

You smiled to yourself, weaving through the darkened alleyway. You could practically see her in your mind—Natasha, laid bare on her bed, her face flushed, her chest heaving, her cock swollen and leaking as she desperately tried to obey you. She was so close, right on the edge, but she was yours. And you weren’t going to let her have it.

“Natasha,” you murmured, your voice low, teasing. “You sound so desperate, baby. Is it really that bad? Are you really that needy for me?”

“Yes,” she gasped, her breath hitching. Her hand faltered, her muscles tightening as she tried to hold back. “Yes, I—I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about you. I—fuck, please, I need to come. Please.”

You hummed, letting her hear the amusement in your voice. “But, Natty… you want to be my good girl, right?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Yes, I’ll be good, I promise, just please—”

“But you’re not being good, baby,” you interrupted, your voice sharp, commanding. “You’re being a slut, aren’t you? Look at you, touching yourself. You keep begging Mommy to come like that. That’s not what my good girl would do, is it? Mommy’s good girl would listen after the first time, am i right?”

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, a soft, broken whine slipping from her lips. “N-no… yes, I want to be your good girl, I—”

“But you’re not,” you said, your tone dripping with condescension. “You’re being a slut right now. You can’t even control yourself, can you?”

A choked sob escaped her, her hand trembling as she tried to keep going, her body shaking with the effort to hold back. The degradation stung, but the praise was still there, woven through your words, and it only made her need you more. She wanted to be good, to be your best girl, but the way you were talking to her—so condescending, so cruel—it was driving her wild.

“I—I’m sorry,” she gasped, her voice thick with desperation. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I promise. Please, I don’t want to be your slut, I want to be your—”

“My princess?” you finished for her, your voice softening just a fraction, laced with sweet, saccharine praise. “You want to be my good girl, my best girl, right? Not my needy little slut?”

“Yes,” she cried out, her voice barely holding together. “Yes, I want to be your princess, I want to be your good girl, I—fuck, please, I’ll do anything, just make me come.”

You grinned, stepping into the small, darkened safehouse. The lock clicked behind you, the space around you dim and secluded. You’d finally made it, alone, safe for now.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, your voice softening as you heard her soft, broken sobs through the phone. “I know you want to be my good girl. But right now? You’re acting like such a desperate whore for me. You don’t even deserve to come, do you?”

Natasha let out a choked whine, her entire body shaking as she balanced on the edge of control. Her hand was trembling, dripping with pre-cum as she tried to keep herself from going over the edge, but it was torture—pure, sweet torture. She needed you. Needed you to tell her she was good, to let her have that release, but you were holding it just out of reach, dangling it in front of her like a cruel tease.

“Please,” she whimpered again, her voice cracking. “Please, I’m—I’m trying so hard to be good. I’ll be good, I promise. I can’t… fuck, I can’t take it anymore.”

You sighed softly, walking into the office in the safehouse, your legs spread as you leaned back, relaxing into the chair by the desk. “Natasha, you’re such a mess right now,” you murmured, your voice low, soothing, but with that familiar edge of command. “But I know you can take it. You’ve been so strong for me, haven’t you? Holding back for so long…”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice raw with need. “Yes, I’ve been waiting, I’ve been so good for you, please—”

“So be my good girl, princess,” you murmured, your voice softening as Natasha let out another soft, broken sob. “You’re doing so well, baby. I know it hurts, but you’re being so good for me.”

You could hear her breath hitch, hear the way she was barely holding on. She was so close to breaking, so close to losing herself completely, and it was all for you.

The sound of her ragged breathing, the way her voice shook with every word, sent a surge of heat through you. Natasha was hanging by a thread, teetering between pleasure and desperation, and you could feel the weight of her need through the phone. You knew she was doing everything she could to be good for you, to wait, but she was unravelling faster than even she realised.

“Tell me what it feels like,” you demanded softly, your voice firm but sweet, pushing her further into her own torment. You could imagine the way her hand must be moving now, slower than she wanted, the way her hips twitched involuntarily as she edged herself at your command. “Describe it to Mommy, Natty.”

“It—” she choked out, her voice faltering. “It feels like I’m going to break, Mommy. It’s… fuck, my hand, I—my cock hurts, I can’t… I can’t breathe.”

Her voice was soaked with frustration, and you bit your lip, letting out a soft, pleased hum. You could hear her trying so hard to be obedient, to control herself despite the overwhelming need coursing through her, and it only made your smirk grow.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” you teased, a sadistic edge creeping into your voice. “Your cock’s aching so bad right now, huh? I bet it’s leaking all over you, isn’t it, baby? Tell me how bad you need to come.”

“It’s—oh, god,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “It’s leaking so much, I can feel it all over my stomach. I’m throbbing, I’m so fucking close—fuck—I can’t take it, please make me come, I can’t do it, I need you, please Mommy–.”

You could practically see it—Natasha, spread out, her cock flushed red and swollen, slick with pre-cum that smeared across her trembling abdomen. Her eyes would be squeezed shut, biting down on her lip to keep herself from crying out, her right hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into her palm as she fought to hold on.

Your grip on her was total, and the realisation sent a wave of satisfaction coursing through you. Natasha Romanoff—deadly, lethal Natasha—reduced to a trembling, desperate mess by just the sound of your voice. You could feel her helplessness, her submission, and it thrilled you to no end.

“Good girl,” you purred, your voice soft and encouraging. “But you’re not going to come yet. You’re going to hold on, Natty. Hold on just a little longer for me. You want to make me proud, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she sobbed, her voice raw and strained. “Yes, I want to make you proud. Please, Mommy, I’ll do anything, just—”

“Go faster.”

You felt the excitement thrumming through your veins as you pressed Natasha further, enjoying the control you held over her. “Go faster, Natty baby,” you instructed, your voice low and teasing. “I want to hear how badly you want me to make you come. Let me hear you.”

A soft whimper escaped her, and you could almost hear her heart racing. “I can’t… I can’t go faster. I’m so close, I’ll…” she stammered, her voice thick with desperation.

“Stop whining, baby. You can do this for me,” you replied, relishing in her struggle. “I know you want to make Mommy proud, you can make me proud. Just a little faster. I want to hear you begging, to feel that need spilling from you.”

With that, you could hear her hand moving more frantically now, the slick sound of her strokes filling the silence between your breaths. “Oh god, Mommy,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “I need to… I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Not yet,” you said firmly, a wicked grin forming on your lips. “You need to hold it. Your orgasm is mine to control, Natty. You’re too much of a dumb slut, too much of a beautiful princess to be able to decide for yourself, okay?”

The sound of her breath hitched, a soft sob escaping her as the heat of your words washed over her. “Please,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “I’m trying… but it hurts.”

“Good. It should,” you replied, savouring the pleasure of her torment. “You’ve been so good for me, waiting all this time. I want you to suffer a little longer. Just keep going. You can do it, Natty.”

“Please,” she whimpered again, voice trembling with need. “I’ll do anything, just please make me come.”

Your tone softened, just slightly, “But you’re going to stop. I want you to get the fleshlight.”

There was a pause on the other end, and you could practically hear her heart racing. “Mommy, I—”

“Natalia,” you interrupted, the command in your voice unmistakable. “You’ll get it, or I’ll hang up right now. I mean it.”

The sound of her breath caught, and you could hear her scrambling, rushing to get her toy. “Okay, okay! I’m getting it!” There was a flurry of movement, and you could hear her panting, urgency lacing her every sound.

You chuckled softly, the thrill of her obedience sending a rush through you. “That’s my good girl. I like hearing you move for me.”

Moments later, you heard the unmistakable sound of the fleshlight being picked up. “I have it,” she gasped, her voice strained, and you felt a wave of satisfaction wash over you.

“Now, I want you to use it. Let me hear how bad you want this, Natty, how bad you want your toy to be Mommy.”

You could hear her hesitation, a soft tremble in her breath as she wrestled with her desire and the embarrassment of using the toy you’d given her. But you weren’t going to let her hesitate for long. “I said, use it. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

With a breathless whimper, she complied, the sound of the fleshlight enveloping her cock mixing with her desperate gasps. “Oh god, it feels so good Mommy,” she moaned, her voice thick with pleasure, yet still straining to maintain control

“I want you to feel every second of this. You’re going to edge yourself, baby. You’ll love it.”

With a whimper, she complied, the sound of the fleshlight gliding along her cock blending with her ragged breaths. “Oh god, Mommy, it feels so good,” she moaned, voice thick with pleasure and frustration. “I’m so close, I can’t hold back. Please, don’t make me stop.”

“You know you’re going to stop, Natty,” you replied softly, your voice a mix of honey and steel. “You’re too beautiful, too precious to be allowed to come just yet. You’ve been such a good girl for me, waiting all this time. Hold on. I need you to wait for me a little longer. I want you to remember this, every moment.”

The sound of her whimpering filled the air, the ache of her need palpable through the phone. “Mommy, please,” she sobbed, the emotion raw in her voice. “I’ll do anything—just let me come.”

“Tomorrow,” you said suddenly, a wicked grin spreading across your face. “I’ll finish the mission tomorrow. But for now? You’re going to edge yourself again and then put your toy away. Do you understand?”

“Yes! I understand!” she cried, the desperation spilling from her as she fought against the need clawing at her insides. “But Mommy, you just told me to use—”

“Stop talking, Natasha,” you ordered, your voice firm but tinged with a softness that only you could offer. “I want you to feel everything. I want you to ache for me. You’re mine to control. Just breathe and remember Mommy holds your pleasure in her hands.”

As the tension in Natasha's voice grew, you felt a rush of power coursing through you. “Natasha, put the fleshlight away,” you commanded, each word dripping with authority.

You heard her whine, the sound both obedient and pained. “Mommy, please! I can’t, I just want to—”

“Do it, now,” you pressed, your tone leaving no room for argument. “I want you to put it aside and bind your hands together. You’re not touching yourself anymore. I’ll take care of you when I get back, but right now, you need to obey Mommy, sweet girl.”

With a shuddering breath, she complied, the sound of the fleshlight being set aside echoing in your ears like sweet music. You could almost picture her trembling hands, slick with anticipation and frustration, as she moved to find something to bind herself with.

“Such a good girl,” you murmured, pride swelling within you as you heard the rustling sound of fabric or some material being looped together. “I want you to bind your hands tightly, so you can’t reach for anything. No distractions. Just you and your dirty thoughts until I return.”

“Okay, okay…” she whimpered, the strain evident in her voice as she obeyed. You could hear the soft sound of the material twisting around her wrists, the way she wrapped it securely, trapping herself in a state of helplessness.

“Now, lie on your back,” you instructed, your heart racing at the thought of her vulnerability, the image of her sprawled out, completely at your mercy flooding your mind.

“I’m— I’m lying back,” she gasped, her voice shaky as she followed your command. “Mommy, please…”

“Shh, just relax. You’ll be okay. I want you to breathe, to feel every ache in your body, every ounce of need that courses through you,” you soothed, the intensity of your voice wrapping around her like a warm embrace. “I’ll be back when you wake up, Natty, and I’ll take care of everything. Until then, just let yourself feel. You’re so beautiful when you’re like this.”

Mommy…” she breathed, the sound almost reverent, full of emotion and need.

“Yes, baby?” you prompted softly, sensing the weight of her vulnerability in the frequencies.

“Promise you’ll be back?” she asked, her voice laced with longing.

“I promise,” you replied, your heart swelling with a mix of affection and desire. “Now close your eyes and sleep a bit. I will be back tomorrow to take care of my perfect girl.”

As she lay back, bound and waiting, a rush of vulnerability washed over Natasha. She was utterly yours, her body tingling with need, every sensation heightened as she surrendered to the moment.

Her heart raced as she felt her shaft pressed against her stomach, still hard and aching, leaking pre-cum that smeared over her skin. The fleshlight lay next to her on the bed, abandoned, a reminder of the torment she had endured. Her left hand dripped with her own essence, a tantalising testament to her desperation.

She was yours, completely under your control, even continents away. And you were hers, no matter what.

With that thought, you let the connection linger in the silence, savouring the anticipation of what was to come. Natasha was utterly yours, and the game was far from over.

The urgency coursing through you now had little to do with the objective, and everything to do with the aching desire Natasha had ignited in you. You were ready to be done with it—tonight.

You quickly mapped out an aggressive approach, planning to cut through the final obstacles with swift precision. There was no time for calling Fury or Maria for backup or a Quinjet. That would only delay things. Instead, you booked the first available flight from Norway to the U.S., ready to handle it yourself, eager to get back to her.

As you confirmed the flight, a smirk crept across your lips. Natasha would wake up in a few hours, still tied, still aching for release. But she wouldn’t have to wait much longer. You’d be there soon enough to take care of everything—and her.

#romugh slays #romugh writes #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #kinktober 2024 #romugh's kt '24 #kinktober #wlw

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deepdisireslonging · 7 months ago

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Cake or Cookies

A good round of sexy texting during girls’ night leads to sexy personal time when Bucky gets home.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x curvy!Reader

Warnings/Promises: food mention, descriptions of injuries (canon-level), dirty talk, sexting, SMUT, oral (both receiving), implied further smut

Word Count: 3080

Note: They can pry the Avenger Apartment/Tower from my cold dead hands. Everything’s fine, everyone is fine; what trauma? Why can’t we have nice things? I went hunting through some of my lost prompts and found a couple to squeeze together. Happy reading!

Girls’ night in the Tower was bound to be dangerous. It was usually when Natasha came up with the next round of pranks to play on the boys. And when Wanda took it upon herself to create the best pillow fort to watch movies in. Her magic made it easy to pile the couch pillows and blankets into what looked more like a cozy cave than a fort. And Maria kept track of where to find any films not already stored in Stark’s library.

You were in charge of snacks. Drinks were cozy only: tea, hot chocolate, and coffee. Alcohol parties were for other nights. Snacks ranged anywhere from home-made chips to hors d'oeuvres (fancy and simply indulgent), to the smorgasbord of mass produced favorite snacks you raided from the corner bodega. But you were stumped when it came to tonight’s desserts. The bodega’s sweet treats were present, cheap candy and the like, but you were stuck between the roll of cookie dough and a box mix for cupcakes.

Stumped, you didn’t acknowledge the warm body that ghosted up behind you until a hand slid across your waist. “It’s girls’ night. What are you still doing here?” Sitting down the treats, you turned in Bucky’s arms and scratched your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

He lightly kissed your forehead. “Needed a break from Tony. Can you blame me?”

“Not at all.”

You both inhaled deeply, cheek to cheek. The last mission had been a rough one. Most of the team had come back banged up. And you still had a nasty scrape of road burn up one leg. Which is why you were wearing the equivalent of biker shorts. Pepper had gotten them for you sometime after the social media trend of those leggings ladies liked to tease their S.O’s with. They were surprisingly supportive of your form. You usually wore them underneath your gear because they were borderline indecent. But, with one of Bucky’s oversized shirts covering your figure, nobody had commented.

Except for Bucky as he slid his hands down your body to rest over the curve of your ass.

“I thought these stayed out of sight?”

You teased a glance up at him. “Usually, yes. But It’s girls’ night. We all wear the equivalent of our pajamas since you boys will be out. You are all going out, right?”

He nodded. “Yes. Eventually.” But he didn’t move. He hugged you closer, brazenly tilting your head to one side with his nose so he could kiss the underside of your jaw.

“Y/L/N!” Natasha waved from the living room. “Are we ready to go, or what?”

A smile spread across your face. You lightly pushed Bucky away, making him whine. Natasha was already starting the voting poll for the evening’s movies when you turned back to the counter. “I’ve got to bake before the party starts. Do you have a preference for what sweets you’d like to be left over? Cookies or cupcakes?”

Bucky pressed up behind you, resting his large hands on the counter on either side of you, and griding his front into your ass. “Cookies. There’s enough cake in this kitchen already.” He slapped your ass, following with both his hands taking tight squeezes of your flesh.

As you gasped, he rushed out. The wink he shot you from the door warned you that the tease would not be the evening’s last.

Fifteen minutes later, the cookies were out, the movie was in, and everyone was settled into their favorite pile of pillows.

Five minutes into the movie, the texting started.

Lover Boy <3: “How’s the movie?”

You rolled your eyes as you turned your phone on silent. If Okoye heard your phone again, you’d never get it back. “We’re watching Magic Mike. So… It’s going well.” You added a smiley face with its tongue sticking out for good measure.

Bucky’s messages popped up every few minutes. You kept your phone screen towards you to see the notification light up your screen without bothering the other women.

Lover Boy <3: “Should I be jealous?”

You: “Nah. Their gyrating doesn’t do it for me.”

Lover Boy <3: “Good to know.”

Lover Boy <3: “Is there anything in the movie that does ‘do’ it for you?”

You smothered a chuckle into your blanket. Each passing second that you took to come up with a teasing reply was surly wreaking havoc on your man.

You: “Maybe. Who wants to know?”

His reply was slow in coming. When it did, you almost fumbled your phone into the floor.

Lover Boy <3: *image incoming*

The picture you received was of Bucky’s hand resting on the top of his thigh. They were out to dinner somewhere, the edge of the table blocking your photo view from the rest of the guys. In the curve between his forefinger and thumb, his bulge was the center of attention. You stuck a sucker in your mouth to cover up your gasp. But the other ladies were too busy hooting for the first dance scene to notice.

You: “Just him? I must be slipping. Especially since I thought you really liked my shorts earlier.”

Lover Boy <3: “I like those shorts because I like taking them off. Girls night got in the way.”

You: “You’ve got to come home sometime.”

Lover Boy <3: “Then what do you have in mind?”

You turned off the flash for your camera and waited for the TV screen to illuminate your face. Sucker holding down your tongue, you sneaked the pic. Before any of the girls could see and tease you. While it sent, you sucked on the round sugar treat. You imagined Bucky’s cockhead on your tongue, as you knew he would too. His reply came in seconds.

Lover Boy <3: “Minx”

You: “And?”

Lover Boy <3: “When I do get home, I’m going to taste something sweeter. All night long.”

Lover Boy <3: “If you can handle it.”

Biting your lip, you smiled into your blanket.

You: “We both know what I can handle. But can you handle what I want to do to you?”

You: “Bet I can blow you so good you forget how to speak Russian before morning.”

You: “Actually, bet I can make you forget all your languages.”

Lover Boy <3: “An official bet?”

Now it was dangerous territory. Neither of you would wager anything that would show in public. Or bring attention from the team inside the tower. But Bucky’s winnings had a steep cost on your ability to walk the next day. Yours usually meant him taking a few days off to spend time together in some distant cabin.

You: “Do we have time to disappear to the Rockies when I win?”

Lover Boy <3: “We just finished a mission. I’m sure I can convince Steve to leave us alone… at least for several nights in a row when I win.”

It was on.

He played dirty by escaping to the bathroom to shoot you a picture of his cock. It was already thick for you, proud and flushed in his palm.

You also escaped. But the picture you sent didn’t require you to take your clothes off. All you did was tug down the front of his borrowed shirt, and splay your fingers wide between your breasts.

You: “Can’t wait to squeeze you between these.”

Lover Boy <3: “9hey now…”

Good. His texting was already stumbling.

You: *picture incoming*

All you did was rest your hand over your throat. But Bucky’s reply of a bunch of scrambled letters made you laugh. You returned to the movie.

You: “Can’t wait for you to get home. But we’ve got about 3 more hours of movies to watch. Think you can last that long?”

Lover Boy <3: “If I have to. Might have to take care of myself before then.”

Wanda looked over as you squirmed in your seat.

You: “You can’t wait for me? I’ll wait for you.”

When the movie lit up enough, you took a picture of the pillow between your thighs.

Lover Boy <3: “Promise?”

You: “Say please.”

His reply, despite the distance between text and actually hearing his voice, dripped with promise. You bit your lip, hearing his growl in your head.

Lover Boy <3: “Since when do get to make the demands around here?”

Lover Boy <3: “Please.”

You: “Since I’m home. Away from the consequences of mouthing off at you till later.”

Lover Boy <3: “You’re not sharing this conversation with the ladies are you? You’re not usually this… sassy.”

You: “This sass is rated E for everyone. But, no. This conversation is just between us.”

You: “I have to stop texting. Natasha is beginning to notice.”

Lover Boy <3: “Until I get my hands on you:”

It was several minutes until you checked your phone, waiting for the others to drop their questioning looks. When you did, you had to smother your moan. He sent one last picture of his tongue out between his fingers. A promise of delectable problems to come.

***

Somebody texted the guys when the movies were almost over. They arrived halfway through you girls cleaning up.

“How was the double feature?” Tony asked. He snagged a remaining hors d'oeuvres off the tray before Maria could stick it in the fridge.

You didn’t hear the reply. All you could focus on was how lust-blown Bucky’s eyes were as he stared you down from the other side of the room. You pressed your thighs together. If the way your chest heaved was any indication, you were in for a long night. Steve barely gave you a glance when you walked past him. Bucky gliding past made him give your departure a second look.

The hallway to your room was dark. The lights that illuminated the floor wouldn’t engage fully unless there was an emergency. Which meant that your shadow was faded against the wall. And it was fractured into several clusters of shadows at reach installation. You didn’t look back. It was part of the game. You couldn’t hear him, but sometimes you could have sworn your shadows had an extra layer.

When you reached for your door handle, another hand beat you to it. Bucky pressed up behind you, pushing you into the room and pinning you to the inside of the door as he locked it. He slid his knee between your legs. Fascinated, he enjoyed the show as you slid the apex of your thighs across the muscle he gave you. He stopped your movements with a hand on your hip, while the other lifted your wrists above your head.

“Did you actually wait, or was that a tease?” He reached into your shorts, groaning to find your slick there. While you trembled, he loudly sucked his middle finger into his mouth. “Oh, ангел, I am going to ruin you. For teasing me like you did.”

“You – you started it. Technically.”

He brought one of your hands down to rest over the front of his pants. “Maybe. But you laid down the gauntlet. How do you want to do this?”

With a grin, you wriggled out of his grasp. You walked backwards towards your bed. Bucky stalked slowly after you. Turning, you ran your hands down your sides, to your hips. And back to the curve of your ass. “Cake?” You smoothed your hands up from your rear to your breasts. “Or cookies?”

Bucky groaned. “The whole damn bakery if I can get my hands on it.” He guided you onto the bed, crawling over you in a way that stole your breath. When you tried to roll him onto his back to begin the challenge, he chuckled. “Nuh-uh. Challenger goes second.”

“But-“

He silenced you with a kiss. As he deepened it, hands kneading into your flesh and removing your clothes, your rebuttal died on your tongue. He barely pulled back enough to remove his own clothes. It wasn’t long before he was working his mouth down your body, kissing and sucking and nipping at your skin until he made it to your sex.

Sometimes part of the challenge included a timer. Like that one gala when he dared you steal away with him during Tony’s speech, and cum before the ending round of applause. With his head buried under your dress, he won with enough time to participate in the applause for a speech you didn’t give a damn about. You didn’t find out till later that Steve had kept track of when you two disappeared and reappeared. Bucky wrote the time on your bathroom mirror as the time to beat. It had yet to be broken.

Tonight wasn’t one of those times. There was all the time in the world. All night to edge or overstimulate each other to your hearts’ content.

Breathing warm air over your sex, his grin between your thighs sent a ripple of goosebumps over your skin. You weren’t sure which was more disarming: his knowledge of your body and its sweet spots that he could make you cum in minutes, or that same knowledge used to bliss you out over hours till you couldn’t remember more than screaming his name. With his tongue, he began the challenge. As if you weren’t soaked already, he made a mess of you. Curling his fingers through your folds. Delving his tongue deep in search of the ability to taste you for days. When he scraped his teeth across your clit, the electricity tightened your fingers in his hair.

He wasn’t drawing this out. A man on a mission, Bucky was doing everything he could to bring you to the brink as fast as he could. The speed that you hurtled toward release stole your breath. That was his plan. Shock you while trying to beat his time so that you wouldn’t be able to speak. And then he’d win double the bragging rights.

And, damn him, it might just work.

Hungrily, he slurped up your pleasure. Adding a third finger to his onslaught, he curled them all to make you see stars. His metal arm flashed out to pin down your hips before you could arch away from him. The metal was cold, frigid, against your flushed skin. The difference in temperature was enough of an overload to your sparkling nerves that your eyes screwed shut. You babbled a series of sounds, making Bucky hum in delight.

But when he came up for air, gently stroking your folds to ease you down, you surprised him.

“Is that all you got, Barnes?”

“Fuck. Seriously?” He rested his cheek against the inside of your thigh.

You did your best to steady your breath. No point in revealing those six words were all you could manage. After another moment, you curled your own finger. You summoned him to hover over you, dangling his dog-tags in your face. Catching one between your teeth, you gripped and pushed his shoulders until he was on his back.

It was your turn to kiss down his body. Across his collar bone and pecs. Down that center chasm between his abs. From one hip bone, down his V, and up to the other side. As you took his length in hand, you had to smile. The poor man should have let you pleasure him first, instead of torturing himself and his cock with waiting. Gently, you circled your thumb around his tip. It dragged a groan out between his teeth. Good. The more vocal he was, the better you could track his ability to speak. Or lack thereof.

You set the challenge into the back of your mind and got to work in pleasing your man.

The first movements were gentle. And careful around how sensitive he was. Still, each touch and twist kept his voice active. He tried to watch you, but kept dropping his head back in pleasure as you quickened your movements. While he was laid back, you shifted your position.

His head snapped up, and he cursed loudly in Russian as his cock was enveloped between your breasts.

Darting out your tongue, you kitten licked the tip of his cock when it came into range. It gave you no small pleasure to watch your man, the Winter Soldier and former Commando, fall to pieces because of you. He cursed louder in English, Russian, and… was that German? But the more you jerked him between your breasts, the more his vocabulary scrambled together. You waited patiently. His metal hand twitched towards to before fisting the sheet. His flesh hand reached back for the pillows, sheets, headboard. Anything to ground himself. Then you struck. You let go of your breasts and dipped low enough to swallow him down. He roared as he bumped the back of your throat. Planting his feet on the bed, his thighs trembled with keeping himself from thrusting into your mouth.

That was fine. You moved enough for the both of you. And, just as his Russian was little more than the most strained of curses, you settled his balls into one hand, and slid the other up his torso. Your nails lightly caught his skin over his heaving breaths.

The high-pitched hiss from the depths of his lungs was your only warning before he filled your mouth.

Your ministrations slowed. You took every ounce of his pleasure, and smiled around his cock as you sucked your way off his length.

He dragged you up to bury his face in the crook of your neck. His lips trembled while trying to say something. Anything. But all he could do was pant into your skin.

You smiled. And kissed the underside of his jaw. While you both recovered, you murmured gentle reassurances between breaths.

“You cheated,” he finally managed.

“Oh? When did I manage that?”

Running his fingers through his hair, he stared you down. “Those damn shorts.”

With a laugh, you nipped at his chest. “What? You did get to take them off, like you wanted. And I can’t help it if you decided to run your hands all over me and get yourself hard. It jazzed me up too. So, in my mind, we’re even.”

“Fine.” He tilted up your face to kiss you. Mumbling against your lips, he complained, “you’re using alotta words there, ангел.”

“And you’re still capable of Russian.”

Bucky grinned. “Then I guess this challenge isn’t done.”

And it wasn’t until long into the night.

***

Ангел: angel

***

Masterlist

Marvel Masterlist

#bucky barnes x reader #curvy!reader #bucky barnes smut #avengers smut #marvel smut #bucky barnes fluff #reader insert #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader

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scented-trash-bouquet0311 · 2 years ago

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The fact that I've gotten similar texts makes this so funny.

#stevetony #steve rogers x tony stark #avengers text au #incorrect avengers #avengers endgame #incorrect mcu quotes #avengers social media au #the avengers #stony #incorrect stony #iron family #texts from last night

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incorrectquotesmcu · 1 month ago

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Bucky: I'm a gentleman. Chivalry is what I do: I'll open the door, pull out your chair, buy you drinks...

Bucky: But when it comes to Mario Kart, I draw the line. I'm sorry, but I just can't let you beat me at Mario Kart.

#source: texts from last night #bucky barnes #bucky barnes incorrect quotes #winter soldier #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel #avengers #avengers incorrect quotes

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textsfromthetva · 10 months ago

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#and then he did #or at least he kinda wanted to #loki #natasha romanoff #the avengers #mcu #texts from last night #she's not really surprised

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simping-on-the-daily · 3 months ago

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Claws, Katanas, Compassion and Ketamine

Summary: You were the link between Vanessa and Wade during their breakup. They get back together, creating the perfect triangle. And then Wolverine shows up too, because you totally live in a suite apartment that can fit everyone.

Notes: God I love poly, mutant!reader, gn!reader, I wrote this in one day and thirty minutes last night and I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be obvious

Warnings: Gets real suggestive near the end but it's a fade to black, typical Deadpool content, from swearing to sex, reader does drugs and is very unhinged Wade’s just worse, not betaread we die like Worstie’s X-Men

The three of you ‘broke up’ in your shitty but homey apartment. Vanessa knew that her death caused Wade to try and kill himself numerous times, and dying shook her up a bit. After being rejected by the Avengers, Wade spent too much time hating himself and wondering where he went wrong, unintentionally neglecting his relationship with both of you

You were the red rope, the link, the buckle on the belt, it seemed. Shit got messy, Wade assumed too fast, but Vanessa wanted to be with you and you still loved Wade, vice versa. Vanessa tried to work stuff out herself, moving out, you stayed at the apartment, and Wade went to live with Blind Al again. You video chatted and texted everyday, and did your darndest to be by both sides.

Vanessa called you one day. She'd gotten the therapy, she said. Wanted to get back with Wade, try again at the least. You encouraged her to try and ask at Wade's surprise party, an extra present to add to the love in the late mutant’s life. Vanessa blew you kisses through the computer, and you mimicked catching them and placing the kisses on your cheek.

Then Wade got kidnapped, and came back two days later, claiming to have saved your entire universe, with some extra company.

“You must think saving the world's sexy, huh, Vanny?” You joked to Vanessa, lightly elbowing her after she and Wade made the promise attempted to try again over his second birthday dinner.

“Shut up and kiss me.” Vanessa put a finger to your chin in jest, and you accepted, embracing her with a gentle kiss to the lips.

“Already getting on it without me?” Wade interrupted, a metaphorical eyebrow raised in light-hearted query, poking in from the room you were in. Your response was simply to blow a kiss, which Wade quickly grabbed and pressed his hand against his cheek, swooning like a teenage girl. Vanessa simply giggled, and dragged you both back to join the party.

You all moved into Blind Al's apartment, in truth because you wanted to take Blind Al's coke. Wade said you couldn't, however, because that was the one thing Feige said they couldn't do. “What a pussy.” You grumbled, throwing the stash back into the floor where it belonged. And then Mary Puppins pissed on your leg, because apparently the nicest Deadpool hadn't potty trained his dog for some reason. Dick.

Oh, and the motherfucking Wolverine was here for some reason.

“Disney's gonna make him keep at this until he's 90, so we gotta give the senior citizen a house otherwise we'll get canceled for elderly abuse.” Wade 'explained’ to you in a whisper, and you nodded intently like you understood. Logan gave a middle finger in response.

He existed, that was for sure. You found him napping in the cupboard once because apparently Logan thought he was too good for the floor. He minded his business, staying out of the way. You accidentally caught him showering with the sweet smelling pink soap Wade and Vanessa shared and good god, those man’s abs were carved by Michalangelo. Fucking beautiful.

You, Wade and Vanessa sat down one night, Logan out at the bar that was full of football obsessed lunatics. And at the same time, you all spoke.

“I need that werewolf cock in me.”

“My god you guys, we need to get Peanut into bed with us, have you seen him?”

“We shouldn’t let him fourth wheel us, ask if he wants to be included.”

Vanessa glared at you both. You shrugged, while Wade did his best to look innocent.

The timing could’ve been worse, with you offering the deal with a Logan who was nearly hungover. Wade on the sofa like ‘one of those French girls’, Vanessa wore a casual hoodie with those really short shorts, and you were snorting heroin. Vanessa explained everything, and you’re pretty sure you hallucinated cartoon birdies as you spoke. Turns out, Wade did the same thing too, once.

Logan accepted anyway, so he knew what he was going to get himself into.

Eventually, you grew to accept that Logan was a weasel, not a werewolf (which is so much cooler), and that you liked seeing him smile. Made you feel good, especially when he smiled because you were running his hands through his hair.

Like some fucked up hivemind, Vanessa and Wade shared your feelings too. However, unlike last time, Logan was the one who ‘confessed’, when the dude straight up purred in contentment when you tried to sit him down at your shitty table and well, you didn’t need to do much to gather the context as to why.

You and Logan shared the ‘Good’s Cabinet’, containing your most precious drugs and Logan’s more costly drinks, both saved for the most special occasions. You offered to take him to different bars that weren’t full of football frat-bros, and both of you found a new enjoyment in clubbing.

You would wear your best jewelry and drip, while Logan would wear an oversized jacket over his ‘wife beater’ shirt, worn over his Wolverine suit. Perfectly balanced, as all things should be.

“They asked for no pickles,” He hovered above you like your evil shadow clone, the worker at the front desk sweating on their head and probably under the collar.

“Haha, reference.” You jokingly poked Logan’s chest, before turning to the employee. “Don’t mind him. Never worked a day of retail in his life, doesn’t get the struggle.”

“Fuck you.” Logan added compulsory, though with the vitriol of a man whose moments of swearing have entirely lost their impact. You did get a new meal, no pickles included, so maybe the guard dog privileges are necessary.

Wade and you would often go out to the park on weekends, chilling on a bench as you gave your very persuasive remarks on all the cars Wade would sell on his job. He’d challenge you to get more ridiculous, and you'd do so with a wink and excessive references to sex.

“Get the boss to add truck nuts to all your autobots,” You suggested as you and Wade both got ice cream cones from the greatest truck of all time. “Would add some blitz to your bis, yaknow?”

“You wanna have a fivesome with our Honda Odyssey?”

“Give the objectums something good.” You shrugged, and Wade responded with a look to the audience, cosplaying as a bunch of trees in Discount Central Park.

Vanessa liked to drag you shopping, and you were content watching her search for the perfume bottles with the most ornate casing. God, she was so pretty, her hair put into that messy bun and casual dress.

“This bitch is ugly.” Vanessa said, holding up a silver bottle with a diamond bottletop. You heard a crunch, and tears quickly welled up in your eyes.

“Oh, so sorry sweetie, I wasn’t talking about you-” Vanessa held up her hands and shook them in a panic, putting the bottle back.

“It’s not that,” Your voice was barely a whisper. “I think I stepped on a ladybug.”

Vanessa looked down at the red flakes on the floor near your foot. “Sweetheart, that was an M&M.”

“Oh.” You stood there in silence for a few seconds, before turning back to Vanessa in the unnatural, freakish sort of way. “You getting anything from here?”

Vanessa smiled. “I think we should have an early lunch.” And you grinned too, as she rushed you over to the food court.

Your nights were chill nights, all four of you curled up on the bed, Mary Puppins curled beside Wade’s leg as he kept changing his position every few minutes. You would braid Vanessa’s hair as she scrolled through her phone, and Logan would lie down and accept head pats and bellyrubs with a content purr. Apparently weasels can do that.

Movie nights were great, too. Logan always got the best popcorn and you all had your designated seats. With a combination of heroin and ketamine you called ‘ketarin’, you snacked on your stash while you were all forced to share two bottles of Pepsi.

“Try it, babes,” You gestured your bucket of drugs towards Wade and Logan, the former sitting on the weasel’s lap as he tried to get comfy. “You’ll be able to smell sounds and taste colors. Stereotypical, I know, but life changing.”

Logan glared at you. “Get this fucker off me and I’ll consider it.”

“Wade, get off, I want Logan to taste my ketarin.”

The mercenary huffed in exaggeration, arms crossed. “No can do, sugar tits. Peanut here needs to learn his lesson.”

“What lesson?” You huffed. “Anyways, I forgive Logan, now get off I need him to try it.”

“He was a very bad boy today, and you know this, Y/N.” Logan rolled his eyes.

“Get off him, Wade.” Vanessa spoke in that stern voice, and even though it was not directed to you, your collar was getting hot already. “We’ll sort it out later tonight, mkay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Wade gave a mocking salute before getting off of Logan with a grumble.

“She’ll be making ya say that seriously later, you know?” You raised an eyebrow at the mercenary, who made a heart symbol with his hands as he winked.

You thrust your special bucket towards the huge, jacked man (hehe), his demands met. Logan sighed before digging his hands in, and shoved it down his mouth.

“I prefer corn starch.”

“You fucking take that back, you little slutty shitter-”

You would’ve beaten him to a pulp for disrespecting your recipe, but Vanessa gave a mock cough, getting you, him and Wade to look at her. “Legally Blonde or Die Hard?”

“It’s August, the fuck are we suggesting Die Hard for?” You huffed, arms crossed, snatching your ketarin back.

“Yeah, too early for festive cheer, sweetcheeks. And I can’t miss out on international girlboss Ms. Woods, who do you take me for?”

“Die Hard is barely a Christmas movie,” Logan scoffed, but didn’t oppose when Vanessa selected Legally Blonde with the remote.

You all relaxed, in your own fucked up way. You and Vanessa arm-wrestled over who got to have a sip of Pepsi (she won, you were trying to hold your bucket in the other hand). Wade’s commentary was louder then the movie, causing Logan to punch him, and Wade let out a murmur of ‘harder, mummy’. You snickered at Logan’s look of repulsion and confusion, looking over to Vanessa, who was most likely the mummy in question. Unfortunately for Logan, she was going onto the balcony to let Mary Puppins piss, so he looked at you.

“Something something we’ll deal with you later, something something what would Elle Woods think?”

Wade seemed to think Elle Woods thought badly of him, standing upright and flopped onto his seat. You put your hands through Logan’s hair, watching him relax from your movement, before yelping when Vanessa came back and accidentally sat down on your hand.

“Shit, so sorry.” Vanessa gave a quick kiss to your hand, and you dramatically swooned as you watched Elle Woods be a girlboss.

“Forgiven, honeybuns, for I could never be mad at such an exquisite princess, who’s hair was made from silk that Willy Wonka once commissioned-”

“Shove your Shakespeare-ass monologues up your ass and get a room.”

Blind Al spoke up, and all four of you turned to see her standing behind you, having just come home.

“This is our room, Al,” Wade countered. “We rented it fair and square while you played poker with all the other little old ladies like you.”

“You’re early.” Logan noted, holding onto a bottle as he turned back to the television.

“Wilson’s clients took a car on a joyride and crashed into the club. Drunk on that high, I reckon.”

“Were they driving with the truck nuts?”

“How the fuck would I know, stupid?”

“Ah.” You hung your head in exaggerated shame, before Al grabbed the wall and let it guide her towards her room.

“Your clients?” You asked Wade with a raised eyebrow after she was gone.

“Karen, Kenny and Twinkletoes.” He ‘answered’. “Now, back to our regular scheduled program of Elle Woo-......and the movie’s over.”

Logan snorted, and Wade gasped, turning to face him. “I’ll have you know that it was a sacrifice I made, I tell you! I gave it all up!”

“You’d give anything up for a cornchip,” Logan shot back, but Vanessa gave a loud clap that stopped the conversation. You placed your empty bucket in the sink halfheartedly before turning to your girlfriend.

“Back to bed. We’ve got some behavior to correct.” Vanessa commanded, heading to your shared room.

“Yes, mummy.” Wade answered in his most ‘uwu’ voice, leading you to groan and Logan to shove him lightly as he followed Vanessa.

“A bit too early on the petnames, buddy.”

Wade stuck his tongue at you, and you flipped the bird before following Logan, who was following Vanessa, and Wade then followed you like some fucked up, freakish line of baby ducks crossing the road.

And you would change none of it.

#deadpool x reader #wade wilson x reader #poolverine x reader #wadeloganessa x reader #god i love making new tags #wolverine x reader #james howlett x reader #logan howlett x reader #worst wolverine x reader #vanessa carlysle x reader #simper scribbles

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