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purifiedclitoris69 · 2 months

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Baby, I'm Yours - Wanda Maximoff Oneshosts

Summary: The Avengers gain a new member, and Wanda Maximoff mistakenly assumes she has gained a rival instead of a friend. Or the one where Wanda has a crush that she doesn't know how to deal with. [Requested]

Warnings: really fluff, enemies to lovers, some kissing and a lot of teasing, avengers being a family, emo!Wanda and her first gay crush. | Words: 4.564k

A/N-> This was requested a while ago and I used it as practice for a winter soldier!reader idea that I had. Idk if I would ever make a series out of this idea, but it was fun to write this reader.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

Seven months after she joined the Avengers, someone else did too.

Unlike her, Sam was extremely excited by the news, he woke up early and somehow managed to convince Vision to join him in the welcome.

Wanda would have skipped the interaction - She only went to get breakfast and intended to spend the rest of the training-free day filled with interactions between the team, hiding in her room and watching old TV shows. But as soon as she noticed the little witch sneaking around the kitchen trying to go unnoticed by Sam's excited theories about who the new avenger would be, Natasha whistled and called out to her.

"Good morning, Maximoff. Do you intend to welcome our new colleague in pajamas?" The widow asked, hiding a teasing smile behind a cup of coffee.

The question already implied what Wanda had feared, and made her sigh. "I didn't know I was expected to take part in the welcome."

Nat grimaced softly - she seemed to be finding the whole thing very amusing.

"What an idea, Maximoff, of course you are! We were all there waiting for you when it was your turn."

She forced a smile, resisting the urge to snap back something bratty like "Thor wasn't". Deciding she had no reason to argue with Natasha, she busied herself with preparing some toast and pouring herself some tea.

When Sam suddenly tapped on the counter, everyone looked at him.

"I got it!" he declared excitedly. "I bet the new guy is Spider-kid!"

Nat frowned. "Who?" and then chuckled to the Falcon's obvious disappointment.

"Come on, the colorful vigilante who keeps throwing webs around? How come you've never heard of him?"

Assuming a thoughtful expression for a moment, Nat flipped through the newspapers on the counter before clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

"Ah, I think Tony's got his eye on that one." She says. "But, no, Wilson. The new recruit isn't the spider. And there's no point in giving me that look, as I won't spoil the surprise."

It looked like the subject was ending - at least that Sam was going to give up. It wasn't long before the rest of the team showed up for coffee, and Wanda mumbled a few good mornings back quickly before making her way to her own room, to change into something more presentable than fluffy pajamas.

But on the way to the bedroom, from one of the glass entrance doors, Steve Rogers appeared and he was accompanied.

"[...] Come on, we're early, they must still be having breakfast." Commented the older Avenger, busy taking off his coat, it took him a moment to notice that Wanda was in the hallway. She was staring, probably. "Oh, good morning, Wanda. I want you to meet someone."

But Wanda already knew you, straight from the television. And from the Shield's files of potential Avenger-level threats.

So maybe that's why when Steve said your name, patted you on the shoulder and you held out your hand for Wanda to shake, she just stared.

"Okay, not a handshaker." You mumbled awkwardly, lowering your arm. "You're Wanda Maximoff, mind reader and former enemy, right? I didn't expect the shock, given the circumstances."

"Hey, easy." Steve grumbled at your aggressiveness, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. Wanda narrowed her eyes at you, but you didn't look too intimidated, your posture relaxed and your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket. "That's in the past. We're all friends now. Aren't we, Wanda?"

With some resistance, she eventually forced a smile and tried to relax her posture. She sighed and nodded. "Of course, Steve. It's nice to meet you apart from the news, Miss Barnes. Should we wait for your brother to join us or does he still have Interpol on his back?"

You chuckle dryly. "Listen here, you-"

"Okay, enough." Steve interrupts, pulling you by the shoulders and giving Wanda a disapproving look. He also whispers that he'll have a talk with her later, but the witch turns away, dragging her feet back into the bedroom while you and Rogers head in the opposite direction.

On the way to the kitchen, you mutter: "And here I thought superheroes were polite."

The soldier chuckles briefly. "You tried to blow up the White House, you can understand the hesitation. Now come on, we've got the rest of the team to shock."

It had taken her hours to see you again, not that anyone had asked her opinion, but Steve had put you in the room next to hers on the justification that it would be good for the two of you to have someone close in age to pass the time.

Wanda grimaced and reminded him that you were about 150 years old. Steve chuckled.

"Technically, yes. But she spent almost all that time on ice, so she was only really around for less than 20 years. Can you please try to be friendly? You have more in common than you might think."

Wanda begrudgingly agreed to be the one to give you a tour of the tower. And so she could also discover that she was apparently the only Avenger who was hesitant about your presence on the team.

She knew your list of skills off the top of her head, but still wondered if you could read what she was thinking when you added; "Your hesitation is totally fine, Maximoff. It must be hard to share the podium as the team's coolest person, but you get used to it."

She chuckled awkwardly at the compliment mixed with teasing at the end of the tour. You offered her a farewell wink, thanking her for the favor before muttering that you needed a shower after several hours of driving. You disappeared to your own room before Wanda could come to a coherent conclusion as to why her heart was racing inside her chest.

Perhaps she was having a panic attack?

Wanda turned on her heels and made her way to Bruce's lab. A quick check-up would clarify things.

While assuring her that she didn't have a chronic arrhythmia, Bruce also - under the influence of Natasha and Tony - diagnosed her with something very common to teenage patients: a crush.

"Did you consider Miss Maximoff, that perhaps, you may have just liked her?"

She did not take this very well.

"What? That's ridiculous! I'm not even gay!" Bruce looked up from the normal results of the cardiology test she had demanded and offered her a small smile.

"All right, Miss Maximoff, maybe I made a mistake. You're probably just anxious about your return to action next week." The doctor suggested and Wanda stood up from the lab chair with an impatient huff.

"That's definitely it." She assured him, not wasting any more time on Bruce and his absurd theories after thanking him for the tests.

After such an unfortunate situation, Wanda began to avoid you. It was the most viable solution when someone caused her to have irregular heartbeats, sweat or tremors. Perhaps she was allergic to you.

Obviously, she should keep her distance.

But it seems that the team had other ideas.

"Barnes and Maximoff, you're together. No gloves, come on." Natasha arrived at the gym announcing, an iPad with the training schedule in hand. Wanda, who had spent a good few weeks with the successful plan of interactions limited to greetings, nearly had a stroke. At least her partner, Sam, was keen enough to hold off his punch before it got to her. Wanda hadn't even heard his comment about her getting distracted in a fight and her feet were moving towards the mat, her eyes quick to notice your breathless figure removing the fighting gloves you had been using on a practice dummy for the last few minutes.

"Let's see if training with Wilson has taught you anything, Maximoff." You commented with a smile that made her stomach jump. Something about your sweaty, panting appearance was making her dizzy.

The rest of the team spread out on the edges of the mat, interested to see the exercise, and it was only Natasha who came up to you to lead the whole thing.

"Start with the basics, I want to see Wanda's reaction time." The widow explained, squeezing the two of you on the shoulder. Before turning away completely, she raised a finger in warning to the younger brunette. "And no magic tricks, Maximoff. Even if you're losing."

Wanda smiled, rolling her eyes. Only once had she done that to Natasha and it seemed the widow would never let that story die.

Before the whistle blew, you looked her in the eye. "I'll take it easy on you, little witch." You whispered teasingly, and Wanda felt something burn in her lower belly. She also decided that she had to win because she had to get that smirk off her face.

It was an easier task than it looked - and it was all down to the fact that if there was one thing Hydra had taught her well, it was to exploit weaknesses.

And yours was to care about her. Every hesitation in your movements, your awareness of the super-soldier strength that could hurt her, made it very easy for Wanda to exploit it, slip away, and dodge all your blows. And there was something else too; a soft choke in your breathing every time she got too close, tangled up between one move and the next. The way your ears turned three shades redder when she managed to knock you over and landed on your chest.

"Wow, Maximoff really is kicking your ass." taunted Sam from the corner of the room, grinning at Barton and Nat.

You didn't seem to mind, licking your lips as you took a second look at the position Wanda now found herself in; sitting on your hips.

She did, however, give you an annoyed look. "Don't hold back, I can take it."

"I'm sure you can, little witch." You retorted ironically, leaning yourself fully back onto the mat.

Wanda grunted angrily, then grabbed the collar of your blouse. "Fight for real! I don't need you to take it easy, I can handle it."

The disarming was so quick that she barely had time to blink - one second she was on your hips, the next her back was pressed to the mat with her hands pinned to the side of her head.

Your body on top of hers, pressing her to the floor, made her choke.

For a moment, as your dilated eyes descend to her mouth, you also seem to forget what you were doing, and the audience around you.

But suddenly, you let go; a dry, humorless laugh escaping you as you stand up. And you turn to Nat as if you hadn't just dropped Wanda on the mat.

After ignoring you for weeks, she thinks she deserves it.

"Her fight is decent, so I think we had enough."

Nat raises an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. "Oh, are you the one deciding on the training now, Barnes?"

You smile briefly before retorting; "Come on, everyone knows she's not punching her way out of fights when she can use the energy tricks. It's a waste of time making the girl train like a soldier."

Natasha doesn't seem to agree. She follows you towards the locker room, arguing how important it is to eliminate the team's vulnerabilities, while the rest scatter around the gym, some giving up practicing to get something to eat and others going back to wrestling.

Wanda regrets sitting on the mat because in that position she can watch you at the locker room door, tugging at your training shirt, exposing a strong muscular back and a lot of skin because of the sports top that doesn't do much good to hide it.

Natasha continues to talk to you without taking any notice of the gesture, so Wanda is sure she's the problem. Her stupid brain and heart are clearly forgetting that she can't handle a crush right now.

She doesn't even have Pietro anymore, who, as soon as he'd finished tormenting her about it, would give her advice. Because he's always had a natural talent for this kind of thing, while the last time Wanda tried to flirt with a boy, it sounded like a threat.

She can't do this on her own. And with that conclusion, she tries to get over it. Maybe Google has some tips, or maybe, the walking computer that hangs around the tower can help.

"Vis?"

The synthesized man took his eyes off the book in his lap when Wanda called out to him, a few days after the training session where, since being pressed into a mat by you, Wanda found herself unable to think of anything else.

"Hello, Wanda." He greeted her gently, closing the pages and waiting for her to approach.

"I need your help with something."

"Oh, what would that be?"

Wanda pressed her lips together, her hands restless in front of her body. "Would you be able to tell me the most efficient way to... get over someone?" Vision frowned in surprise, and Wanda sighed. "Someone we shouldn't like. Definitely inappropriate."

Vis opens her mouth, still in shock at the whole thing, but it's someone else who speaks;

"What's definitely inappropriate?" Tony asks, and Wanda thanks the gods he didn't hear the first part.

"N-nothing!" Rebuts the witch quickly, the color of her cheeks probably giving her away. Stark looks at her suspiciously, then at Vis.

"Okay, what are you two love birds talking about?" The Vision would have blushed if he could. He gets visibly embarrassed, smiling shyly.

That's great as if Wanda needed one more extra thing to stress her out.

She can barely contain her grimace at the nickname, but Tony doesn't bother; Vision is at least quick to change the subject, and surprises Wanda with his ability to lie very well.

"We were just commenting on how inappropriate General Ross's accusations were at the last meeting." And that's enough to distract Stark.

Wanda practically flees the scene after that. For a long moment, she had even forgotten about the tension that had been swirling around the Avengers over the last few days, precisely because your absence from the compound made her - not that she would admit it - miss you terribly. And all she could think about was inevitably you, busy on missions with Steve in search of your brother James.

With your presence increasingly rare in the Compound, Wanda hoped that the crush would go away, but every time she happened to bump into you between missions, the feelings came back with an overwhelming force, like two lovers the war kept apart. It was frustrating, to say the least. Especially since Wanda was nothing more than a teammate. Hardly a friend.

When Lagos happened, and it was the worst thing that could possibly occur, at least Wanda had something else to think about. And this time, Ross's visit to the Compound was more than inappropriate - it was final.

Accords and fights between the team led to an unbearable situation. With half of her colleagues out for meetings with the United Nations, Wanda was still grounded at the Compound, waiting for news.

She didn't expect you to be sneaking around.

"You shouldn’t be here." That's the first thing she says as she fully opens the bedroom door you left ajar. Wanda could lie about being your fault that she found you, when in fact she had become an expert at sensing your aura over the last few weeks, the ability to just know when you were around, perfecting itself every time you two met.

You chuckle, without diverting your attention from the task of filling your backpack with as many things as you can squeeze inside. Wanda had the impression that many of the items you came to collect in your room were old presents; everything the others had gotten you over the last few holidays. Things that were precious.

"I'm aware. I won't be long." You retort, folding some socks together to put them away in the closet.

Wanda should call Vis - he's working as a sort of watchman for the tower or something. And he was supposed to notify Tony of your presence. But instead, she closes the door.

Twisting her fingers in anxiety, she asks:

"Where are you going to run off to?"

Offering her a quick glance as you returned to your suitcase to put away some underwear that made Wanda look away, you replied; "I can't tell you that, little witch."

Wanda almost smiled at the nickname. Instead, she took a desperate step forward.

"Would you take me with you?"

Standing back, you chuckle. "Funny."

"I wasn't joking."

You leave the St. Petersburg snow globe you got as a present from Natasha on the dresser and turn with a frown to the witch behind you. "Maximoff, come on-"

"I'm serious." She insists. "Stark grounded me. Like a fucking child. “ She then chuckles sadly. “Or worse, a problem he didn't want to deal with. And I know I fucked up in Lagos-"

"Don't say that, Lagos wasn't your fault." You interrupt her with a certain determination. "You need to remember that, alright?"

Wanda smiles softly at your reassurance, looking away because her face is suddenly very warm. You sigh then grab just one more change of clothes before zipping up your suitcase.

"It's not because of the company, Wanda." You mutter suddenly, with the backpack on your shoulders. She looks at you with confusion, but you don't meet her gaze. "I just don't think it's right, everything that's happening. And I don't think we should all be fighting with each other. But that's what's going to happen from now on. If you come with me, Steve probably expects you to be choosing sides. And I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

Her heart skips a beat, but Wanda takes a chance;

"Anyone... or me?"

You're taken aback, but you don't lose your poise. You sighed deeply before approaching her without haste, without any hint of what you were going to do either. Wanda opens her mouth again, to apologize for being so difficult, but you muffle the statement with a kiss.

It's the first time she's kissed another girl if that isn't obvious. She melts, panting and so very shy; it's a good thing that you hold her waist, while your other hand keeps your face close by grabbing her chin gently. Wanda's lungs scream for air after a moment, but she refuses to pull away from a sensation as good as kissing you.

Something like a whimper of need escapes her when you break the act, or maybe it's the way you give her lower lip a gentle tug with your teeth that leaves her trembling, ready to beg for more.

"Sorry if that was sudden." It's the first thing you say, your voice is hoarse, and as affected as your breathing. You smile, your thumb wiping away some of the mess left by Wanda's gloss. "But I think it took us long enough."

She babbles like a fish, unable to form a coherent thought for a whole moment. You wait patiently, your hands touching her shoulders, sliding down her arms as a way of calming her. Wanda has dreamed so much of feeling you that the touch meant to ease her nerves has quite the opposite effect; every inch of skin you touch tingles.

"H-how... did you know?" she asks, and you give a short laugh.

"I didn't." You retort gently. "Not for sure, at least. Not until two seconds ago when you asked to come with me. I had this... feeling. And this tension. Every time we walked into the same room, every time we were alone. I just felt…” You can put it into words exactly, so you just take a deep breath and smile at her. “I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, that the way I felt was making me imagine things but then you came in here. Sneak out into my room and ask if you could leave this fancy tower to run away with me to fight. I just had to be sure."

Wanda bites back a shy smile, feeling the heat spreading from her chest to her face and eras, and knowing for a fact that it's only going to get worse because of the way you're looking at her.

She tries to get some ground again.

"And are you..." A sigh, as one of your hands settles on her waist. "Sure?"

You hum thoughtfully before breaking the distance, kissing her in a different way than before. It's more intense and hungrier. Your tongue invades her mouth, exploring everywhere and your hands prevent her from pulling away when the oxygen is off. Every needy sound that escapes her is muffled against into lips.

Wanda tentatively follows the rhythm, one of her hands wrapping in your hair. Your backpack falls to the ground and you hold her tighter now, pulling her into you. It's a significant difference between a super-soldier's body and her own, and just the quick memory of you pressing her against the mat makes her moan into your tongue.

The sound makes you lose your mind - Your hands become more determined, the kiss desperate. Wanda struggles for air, exposing the collarbone that keeps you busy as she tries to catch her breath. You bite down on her skin and she arches against you, her hands becoming bold enough to scratch your back and pull up your blouse.

But you break into a husky chuckle, slowing the kiss and pulling away to remind her; "We have to go." Between one touch and the next, "We don't have time."

She needs a whole moment to force her brain to work, and even after you're no longer touching her, and she's sneaking off to her own room to prepare a suitcase, she's still shaking.

When you meet again, running hand in hand with suitcases back to the garage, Wanda is surprised to realize that she was foolish to be afraid of something as good as this.

That is, of course, until reality hits again.

Wanda has never seen you in action as a Winter Soldier before. She saw it through television, Shield files, and testimonies about deserters captured by the Avengers.

But she was never there.

The Avengers split up and fought each other, and your brother fled with Steve Rogers. She thought you were safe on the plane with them, she made sure you got on - but she didn't see you climb off.

Wanda accepted being captured, she accepted being drugged as a security measure. And throughout the confusion that was the transportation of the Avengers in custody to the Raft, she thought she was hallucinating the whole way there. The masked figure attacking the soldiers and opening the cells was a projection of the sedative in her mind.

She only knew what had really happened, had been able to remember, when you both were already in another country as fugitives from the United Nations.

You were by her side the whole time. You held her on your lap after getting rid of the straitjacket that had trapped her and lay down next to her when there was finally a secure roof over your heads.

Wanda was exhausted. She had lost the only thing she had left; her freedom. There was no longer a home, a team, a brother. She was drugged and trapped like an animal by people she considered family.

She started crying, and you woke up. You didn't say a word or ask her to stop. You just held her and let her sob into your chest until she fell asleep again, this time from exhaustion rather than through the influence of chemicals.

When what was left of the team moved on the following day, to another location to avoid suspicion as Natasha clarify it, Wanda got the impression that maybe it was you who needed her to hold you until you went to sleep now.

Bucky didn't come back, and neither of you knew what had happened to him or Steve.

Wanda let you cry all you wanted.

But then finally, everyone who had fought for Steve was back together. Even Clint and Scott, who would probably make deals for their families, to try to be with them, and would have to leave soon. For a moment, everyone was there and you found out that your brother was going to stay in Wakanda to be free again.

It wasn't perfect, but it was a good moment. Steve got food for everyone, you had something that resembled a Christmas, or at least an end-of-year celebration.

We're alive and safe. We're together. Steve was a man of words.

Even if they were sharing a safe house that was too small for such a group. Even if half the world was after them.

The team fell asleep between sleeping bags and sofas, and you left the trailer to get some air. Wanda went after you without thinking much about it.

"It's cold, witchy." You commented as soon as she was close enough, even though you opened your arms for her to wrap hers around you.

Your back was against Nat's truck, and Wanda pressed a little closer to hide her face in your collarbone.

"Where are you going to run off to?" She questions into your skin.

You sigh, one hand caressing her back. "I don't know." You confess quietly. "I wouldn't get to Wakanda with this, but I wasn't feeling very well in there. Having a Christmas meal without him."

Wanda adjusts her face to look at you. "Bucky needs to heal first."

You nod, giving her a sad smile. "I know, but Steve told me they put him back on ice. Until they found out what they were going to do with him. Just the fact that he's there, freezing again... " You look away, sniffling softly. "It reminds me of the past, our time as Winter Soldiers. And It makes me very sad.” You explain softly before sighing. “I know there's nothing we can do to help him now, but it's all so frustrating. I just needed to get out of there for a moment."

Wanda absorbs your words for a moment until she returns to her previous position and smiles as she feels you relax and put your arms around her.

She murmurs; "It's a shame we can't go out there. Natasha said this place has beautiful spots to visit."

You snort slightly. "Actually, we could drive somewhere further away. Far from the city." You comment. "We can watch the Aurora Borealis."

Wanda bites her lip for a moment, considering your invitation, until she adds; "Just the two of us?"

You chuckle. "Unless you want to wake up the team..."

"No, I wasn't complaining!" She clarifies quickly, and you start laughing again.

She taps you gently on the shoulder to make you stop. "Idiot."

"Your idiot." You hit back with a smirk, and Wanda's heart stops beating for a moment. There's a pause, between exchanging intense glances as you bring your hands to her face, adjusting her hair out of the way. "Don't forget, witchy."

She swallows dryly, her voice hoarse when she speaks: "I won't." She whispers back and you smile before pressing your lips into hers.

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purifiedclitoris69 · 2 months

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Meteors

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

When you start working on the Barton’s farm, you meet Natasha

Note: It’s been wayyy too long since I’ve been able to make time to write. Hope y’all enjoy this Nat fluff!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

Natasha watches from the front porch as a truck she’s unfamiliar with pulls up in the driveway. Just when she’s about to go ask Laura if she had any idea who was arriving, the woman steps out onto the porch.

“Right on time,” Laura comments mostly to herself.

“Who’s this?” Natasha asks, her attention is piqued.

“The new farmhand,” Laura explains. “She’s been working here every week for about a month now. Clint didn’t tell you?”

Nat shakes her head.

“Well, she’s pretty great at it,” the older woman continues. “Come meet her.”

Natasha follows Laura down the steps and to the truck. You are unloading a bale of hay from the bed of the truck when they walk up.

“Hello!” Laura greets you. She’s always so kind. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” you reply before turning around to actually see her. “How are you?”

You drop the bale onto the group and turn to see more than one person standing there.

“Oh hi,” you say to the new person. She politely lifts the corners of her lips, but doesn’t quite smile at you.

“This is Nat,” Laura says. “Nat, this is y/n.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you say, holding your hand out for her shake. She takes it in hers and the eye contact you make lingers.

“Oh, I forgot I have cookies in the oven,” Laura says. “I’ll be back. Nat why don’t you get to know y/n a bit.”

With that, Laura leaves you there with this beautiful stranger. God, she really is beautiful. You both stand there a little awkwardly before you make a move to talk to her more.

“So, how do you know the Bartons?” You ask.

“I work with Clint,” Nat says. You try not to let yourself go weak in the knees at hearing her voice for the first time. “You’re probably familiar with what we do.”

“Partially,” you say with a soft laugh. “I better get started for the day. I’ll see you around?”

Nat nods and walks back towards the house. You work the rest of the day with Natasha on your mind. She had uttered barely ten words to you, and yet you can’t get her out of your head.

A few days go by before you see her again. It’s early in the morning when you arrive. Natasha is sitting in a rocking chair with baby Nate in her arms. You walk to the porch to say hello.

“Good morning,” you greet her.

“Good morning, y/n,” she says. You try memorize the way your name sounds coming from her lips.

“He’s up early,” you comment.

“Yeah, a little too early. I offered to hang out with him while Clint and Laura sleep in,” Nat replies.

You smile at that.

“You’re here earlier today,” Nat says. You try not to overanalyze why she knows your schedule so well. It’s probably just the spy in her, you think.

“I am indeed. The cows need some extra work today, so I got here early,” you explain. “Come on out to pasture if you get bored. I’ll be there all day.”

“I just might do that,” Natasha replies.

You get a boost of confidence from her words. After you bid her a farewell for now, you drive out to the cattle field.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Barton family wakes up. The kids eat breakfast and start chores. Clint asks Nat to help him with some outside work.

A few hours go by and Laura calls everyone in for lunch. Natasha looks around the kitchen for you, but she doesn’t see you.

“Is y/n eating with us?” She asks.

“She likes to stay out there and work, so I usually take her some food after we eat,” Laura explains. She tries to read Nat’s expression. “You could take it to her today if you want.”

“Oh, sure. Yeah I can do that,” Nat says.

Laura smiles knowingly. The family eats and then Natasha makes her way to you.

At the sight of you wrangling cows, she can’t help but smile. You’ve shed the light jacket you were wearing this morning and she can see how strong you are.

“Oh hey, Natasha!” You say once you see her.

“Hey,” she replies, her head cocked to the side a little to examine your current position. “Do I even want to know what you’re doing?”

“Probably not,” you reply. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Lunch,” Nat says. “Laura’s famous grilled cheese.”

You walk away from the cows and towards Natasha. She stands by the truck, so you open the tailgate and sit on it. You pat the area next to you as a way to ask her to sit.

She hands you the lunch bag and lightly blushes when your hand touches hers.

“Thank you, Nat,” you say. “Wait, do you prefer Nat or Natasha?”

“Either one,” she says, shrugging. “Technically my name isn’t Natasha, but I’ve always gone by that.”

“That is a fun fact,” you say. Nat laughs. You try to memorize the sound. “I like Natasha.”

“Then call me Natasha,” she says.

There’s a silence, but it’s not awkward. You eat your sandwich and watch the animals move around the farm. You wonder what Natasha is thinking about as she swings her legs and sits next to you.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” the redhead breaks the silence. “I feel like I can actually think and be free.”

“Yeah, I love it. Being out on a farm is my comfort place. So far, this one is my favorite,” you say.

“Why’s that?”

“The people. Clint, Laura, the kids,” you say. “And you.”

“I’m already a reason?”

“You were a reason I love this place the second I met you,” you say. You didn’t mean for it to come across so cheesily, but Nat doesn’t seem to mind. “Hey, how long are you staying here for?”

“A few more weeks maybe,” Natasha says. “Why?”

“In two weeks there’s supposed to be a meteor shower. Maybe we could come out in the field and watch it together?”

“Sounds fun,” Nat says, trying to act casual.

“I better get back to helping Clint. He’ll be pissed I let him stack bricks alone.”

You chuckle at her words. You want to ask her to stay, but at least you know you’ll be seeing her around.

And from that point on, Natasha brings you lunch every day. Laura doesn’t even have to ask her to do it. Nat wants to. She seems to sit with you longer and longer each day.

It all leads up to the night of the meteor shower. You wear a nice shirt and jeans and drive over to the farm.

When you knock on the door, Lila answers. You greet the family and have dinner with them. Natasha is in her element here. You can see how she lights up around the kids. And she loves watching you interact with them too.

Once dinner is over, you and Natasha sneak outside. You drive out to the field and lay a blanket down in the bed of the truck.

“Very fancy,” Nat comments.

“Only the best for you, Natasha,” you joke. “Laying down is the best way to see it.”

You both lie down a respectable distance from each other, but close enough that you both have butterflies.

“You know when I was a kid, I loved anything that glowed in the sky,” Nat opens up. “Stars, planets, and things that didn’t even really have to do with the sky. Like fireflies.”

“That’s really sweet, Natasha. I love those too,” you say. “There’s so many out here in the summer.”

“I wish I saw them more.”

“You’ve gotta move out here I guess,” you say. “Oh look!”

You point to the first meteor falling. Nat watches with bright eyes. You can’t drag your eyes away from the way she glows in the night light. Her green eyes are illuminated by the scene happening in the sky.

Natasha turns her head to the side and catches you staring.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking away a bit.

“Don’t be,” Nat says. “But you are missing the show up there.”

“It’s fun to watch you watch it,” you say. “You’re beautiful, you know?”

Natasha definitely blushes at that. Her hand finds yours between the two of you. You’re it sure who leans in first, but you end up just centimeters from her lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Natasha asks.

“Please,” you reply.

The distance is shattered between the two of you. Natasha’s kiss is soft, but firm. Her intentions are clear as she moves her perfect lips over yours.

“Now we’re both missing the show up there,” Natasha jokes when she pulls away.

“So worth it,” you say.

You kiss Natasha again. And again. And a few more times before you decide to go back to the house.

“I’ll see you in the morning?” You ask her once you’ve walked up to the front door together.

“Yes,” Natasha says. “Thanks for tonight, y/n. I haven’t enjoyed myself this much in a long time.”

“Anytime, Natasha. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she says.

You hug her for the first time and love the way she feels in your arms. It’s like she is perfectly shaped to be in your grasp.

You share a brief kiss before you let her go inside. As you walk back to the truck, you can’t help but do a little happy dance. Natasha watches through the window and laughs.

This is the start of something amazing. You can feel it.

You’re falling for her faster than the meteors fell in the sky. Little do you know, she’s falling for you in the exact same way.

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purifiedclitoris69 · 2 months

Text

In it together

Hiii. I am alive, just very busy and overwhelmed with living ig. College fucking sucks and so does everything else rn, but figured i get a lil blurb out before i have to lock back into my classes. hope you enjoy!! don’t really know what ima do w my series or when ima update so i am sorry bout that LOL. anyway bye for now 👋👋

You were absolutely exhausted. A 2 week mission with only 3 hours of sleep total takes an intense toll, even if you are a super soldier. Letting the burning hot water run down your back , flashes of the recent mission ran through your mind. The experiment files were horrific, so many deaths, so many children.

You had only been at the compound for about a year and a half now, the team rescuing you from Hydra’s control like Bucky. You were free of the brainwash but not of the memories and this long ass mission had brought it all right back to the surface. It was getting better, your in therapy, bonding with the team, learning how to control your strength, your growing. But this mission, feels like it’s all about to come crumbling down. It made you feel sick. Thoughts of losing yourself, the team… of losing, Natasha, it burned your throat.

What you have with Natasha is confusing, complicated, but nice. No one else knows the true nature of it but you two. Falling into each others beds continuously for the past 8 months, staying tangled in each other, every single night, cuddling, and giggling like little teen girls. The team simply thought you guys were close friends, both you two being spies, it wasn’t too hard to hide your extracurriculars. But you both knew it was more, so much more. You held each other in the most gentlest ways…the most loving, opting not to leave one another when you guys inevitably came undone. In front of the team, you had a front, a quiet brooding one, but with her, it was peaceful, relieving, you felt free, like yourself. It was absolutely terrifying.

Not realizing it tears were beginning to mix with the water running down your face and crescent marks formed in your palms from clenching your fists too hard. You love her. You’re in love with her, but how could you tell her, would you. Your whole life you’ve been used as a weapon, serving for the military, then hydra. You were dangerous…a monster. It was late, almost 2 am, you couldn’t go to her now, she need rest, not a burden. no matter how much you yearned for her warmth. Turning off the burning water, you stepped out into the steam filled bathroom. Drying off, you wrapped the towel around your waist and another draped over your shoulders, you opened the door to your bedroom-on your bed sat Nat. Dark circles surrounded her eyes, her hair was slightly ruffled, she wore an old shirt of yours, and some of her loose sleep shorts. She looked absolutely stunning, you couldn’t help but give a soft tired smile.

“hi.” she spoke softly with a matching smile.

“hi,” you answered stopped in place just taking her in.

“you gonna get dressed,” she smirked tiredly, “tho i don’t mind.”

“oh really” you joked walking over to her and cupping her face as she looked up at you, “i missed you,” you spoke softly the tiredness bringing out a transparency.

She leaned into your hand closing her eyes, “i missed you,” she answered. Your heart swelled and the flashes came back, you could hurt her, what if you lose it. Suddenly taking a step back her cheek still warm from your touch, her eyes flew open. You turned your back, getting dressed by your closet, “is everything okay,” she asked as you pulled your tank top over your head and braced yourself against your dresser.

You opened your mouth unsure what you wanted her to know, “yeah,” was all you could muster.

“I really did miss you,” she walked up behind you wrapping her arms around your waist and leaning her check against your back, just enjoying your smell, “i don’t sleep well without you anymore.”

“me either,” you turned around wrapping your own arms around her middle and looking to the side as hers went to your neck, “it was a rough mission,” you mumbled

“oh, baby,” she spoke, moving her hands to your face this time, “look at me please,” your eyes were burning with unshed tears as they met her soft deep green ones, “oh, my love, it’s okay,” she brought your head down to her shoulder as you released a shaky breath and let your arms fall from around her waist, “is there something else,” she asked dropping her own hands. You walked past her to sit on the bed not really sure where to start as you looked at your hands in your lap, “we don’t have to talk about it, it’s okay,” she spoke sitting beside you and gently take your hands in her own.

You finally looked back at her face, your eyes still glossy. You stared deep into each others eyes, “you’re so beautiful, Natasha,” you said memorizing every detail of her. She laughed quietly as a soft blush rose to her face.

“Shut up,” she said putting her forehead against hers.

She closed her eyes at the action as yours remained open, “I mean it, you’re the prettiest girl there is.”

Her blush grew as she pulled back and looked away slightly, “god i love you,” she mumbled out casually bringing shock to both your faces. She immediately pulled her hands away and stood from the bed, her mouth opening and closing unsure what to say as you looked at her, overwhelmed with emotions, “y/n i’m sorry i-“

“You do?” you asked getting up from the bed with her, “you love me?”

“I..” She spoke uncertain, taking a deep breath in, “y/n i’m in love with you.” You laughed slightly in disbelief. You moved towards her with purpose grabbing her waist and pulling her into a bruising kiss, pouring every amount of love into it as possible, like it was the last time, like you were consumed by everything Natasha. You both grinned wide into the kiss, forcing the two of you to break apart.

Taking a deep breath, “Tasha, I..,” the thoughts all came rushing back. Your going to hurt her, you don’t deserve this love, your going to lose it all.

She moved her hands down from your neck to intertwine with your own, “I know,” she whispered.

“I really do,” you said, your foreheads still pressed together, “I..,” your mouth fell open and closed absolutely terrified to say something wrong, “Im just scared,” you mumbled, closing your eyes, but never dropping your hold.

“Don’t be,” she answered, moving her hands back up to cup your face, “we’re in this together.”

#enhanced!reader #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #super soldier #natasha angst #angst with a happy ending #fluff #marvel #black widow x reader

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purifiedclitoris69 · 3 months

Text

Cat's out of the (super) bag

Summary: Natasha doesn't like going on missions with you. Learning the truth might make her change her mind.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Big thanks to @soggy-wet-cat for hearing this idea before I wrote it :)

Fury was going soft.

That was the only way to explain your presence on most of Natasha’s missions.

Rogers, she gets. He’s a super soldier and as capable as Natasha is, it doesn’t hurt to have an enhanced individual around.

But you.

Always slow, always too relaxed for Natasha’s liking. Insisting you could do more, but last week you weren’t even able to pick a lock.

Not to mention how much you avoid hand to hand combat. Natasha suspects it’s because your skill level is very low.

“She’d do better out of the field” Natasha complains for the tenth time. Fury smirks. “This isn’t funny. I’m risking my neck to protect her and she’s not even worried about getting better. I’m not doing missions with her anymore”

“Now, hold on” Fury protests. “That’s not for you to decide. And I thought you trusted me”

“It’s her I can’t trust”

“Too damn bad. You have a mission. No Rogers this time. And I better hear it went well, Romanoff”

Natasha rolls her eyes and leaves his office.

It will only go well if she convinces you to sit and wait at the jet.

—

“What did you do to piss off Romanoff?”

“Morning to you too, Nick” you smile, placing a cup of coffee in front of him. “I don’t know. It’s pretty obvious she doesn’t like me”

“I know that. Have you done anything to upset her?”

“I barely speak to her and when I do she doesn’t answer” you shrug your shoulders, going back to every interaction you’ve had with the redhead. Her intense glare comes back to haunt you. “Do you think she knows?”

“You tell me. Did you screw up?”

“I keep a low profile. Like you asked me to” you nod, knowing how important this is for him.

“Better stay that way. You’re both leaving for a mission tomorrow” the man hands you a folder and you skim it. “Keep your head down and don’t make her angrier”

“Is that even possible?”

“You don’t wanna know”

—

It’s a mess from the start. You try to stay away from Natasha, but every time your attempts go in the worst way possible. Like when she’s walking down the jet, and you move aside so she has space. Except you end up pushing a few buttons on the console and Natasha has to come back and straighten the ship.

“Stay still” she mutters, glaring. You nod and sit on your hands, more concerned with the woman’s temper than about the mission.

“Wait here” is all she says after landing the jet.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a very simple mission” Natasha says, without looking at you, focused on adjusting her widow bites. “So, if you really want to help, stay out of my way”

“That’s not the plan. I’m supposed to watch the south entrance”

“They’ll never even noticed I inflitrated the building”

“You’re not my boss. Fury is. And if he wants me to stand outside and watch the south entrance, then that is exacly what I’ll do, Natasha”

The redhead finally turns back to look at you, surprised. This is the first time she’s seen you upset. You’re walking past her, not bothering to look her way… have you always been this tall? It always seems like you’re trying to look small.

“Hey” Natasha tries to make you turn, grabbing your arm. She’s surprised by how strong you are. “You better not screw up. Or I’ll make sure you’re on desk duty for the rest of your career, Y/L/N”

“Oh, now that’s funny. I’ve been here far longer than you” you lean forward, whispering. Natasha tries to understand what you mean, her eyes scanning your features for a sign. Aware of how close you are to her, you take a step back and jump out the door, ignoring the ladder.

Ridiculous, to think that you (you!) are an incompetent agent.

Maybe Fury was wrong for asking you to do this.

You’re kicking the ground, huffing every few minutes, still fuming at Natasha’s words. All this time, you thought she didn’t like you and though it sucked, you could live with that. But saying you were bad at your job when it was the exact opposite makes you see red.

“Y/N?” Natasha says over the comms.

“Here” you answer.

“A little help”

Those three words make your stomach drop. Natasha asking for your help?

This must be life or death kind of bad.

“Tell me where you are” you ask, breaking into the building.

“Intelligence room. Surrounded by at least 20 guards”

“Use the vents to go out and grab one of their vehicles. I’ll distract them”

“You’re gonna take down 20 people all on your own?”

“Just do as I say, Romanoff”

It feels good to finally use all your strenght. You practically rip open a door that sets off an alarm, and then you throw a couple of grenades around.

Now, all eyes are on you.

Sure enough, it takes them a few minutes to come find you, but you’re ready to shoot at the first guards, and when the second wave has gone through their ammo, you prepare for hand to hand combat.

“I’m out but there are two individuals after me. Towards the east, away from the jet”

“Got it. Gentleman” you turn to the man. “Change of plans. Let me go or die. Whichever is fine by me”

They laugh, until you send one of them flying across the room, his neck snapping.

“Who’s next, ladies?”

—

How could this mission have gone so wrong? Now Natasha is navigating the snowy road on a motorcycle, being chased by two of the guards and dodging their bullets.

The cold air is stabbing her hands and face but she has to keep going. She is too far away to communicate with you, but hoped you had the good sense of going back to the jet.

She’d find a way to survive.

Or maybe not, as she notices a third motorcycle joining the chase.

Through the rearview mirror, she sees the new person approaching one of the guards. A fight ensues and an exchange of shots. Next thing Natasha saw was the motorcycles colliding.

“Y/N?” she tries the comms, hoping you aren’t stupid enough to be knocking down people. Whoever those two were, the force of the hit was enough to kill them.

And yet, one of them begins to run after Natasha and the man still chasing her. The figure is fast approaching, which is ridiculous, considering Natasha was going 150 miles per hour.

The brute is clearly scared, as his movements become more erratic, trying to get rid of Natasha and the mysterious figure at the same time. He shoots behind him and then at Natasha, getting to one of the tires in her bike.

She tries to keep the handle steady, but can’t turn on the curve ahead of her. Natasha is sent flying directly to a river, the cold water making her momentarily paralized. The currents confused her, and she couldn’t tell up from down. She swam and swam, until her arms were too tired.

She began to drift, and the last thing she saw was a shadow hovering above her.

—

“Natasha? Nat?” you plead, doing CPR as gently as you can. You don’t want to add cracked ribs to her list of injuries.

Finally, after what felt like hours but were only seconds, Natasha lunges forward, coughing and throwing up water. You hold her head, helping her until she can breathe again.

“I’m freezing” Natasha complains, looking around. “Did we lose them? How did you…” she then turns to you and widens her eyes. “You’re bleeding”

“Yeah, he shot me. It’ll stop in a second. And yes, we lost them. Though I’m sure HYDRA is sending more people to track us down. Come on” you stand up, offering your hand. Natasha takes it and is once again surpised by how strong you are.

Your body is also warmer than hers, even if you dived to rescue her. On pure instinct, Natasha comes closer, practically melting against your body heat.

“You’re hiding something” she states and you chuckle.

“Now’s not the time. Come on, I’ll carry you. There must be a safe house close to the river”

Natasha climbs to your back, and as if she weights nothing, you walk down the river, trusting she’ll keep an eye for any place to hide.

Sure enough, after ten minutes of walking, the redhead gets your attention and points at the right. There’s a small cottage hiding between some trees.

“Here” you say as you kick open the door, not bothering to find a key. You set Natasha down and go around the place, looking for blankets and anything that will make her warm.

“Did it stop bleeding?” she asks, looking at your abdomen. You nod, placing a blanket over her shoulder and checking for other injuries. “Are you a super soldier?”

You smile, thinking that Fury will be up in arms. But technically, you didn’t tell Natasha. She figured it out.

“Yes”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Who else knows?” Natasha says, pulling the blanket closer, as if it will help her cover from you as well. It’s clear she doesn’t trust you right now.

“Fury asked me to keep a low profile. He’s the only one that knows. I think he’s concerned about the integrity of SHIELD. You know him, keeping an ace up his sleeve”

“How long have you known him for?”

“Thirty years, give or take. My existence is top secret, and I spent some time away from the job. My father died, and he was the last person that I knew before everything, so… it was hard, I guess”

“I’m sorry”

“Me too. I didn’t like lying to you or pretending to be something I’m not”

Natasha kicks herself for not noticing sooner. It’s so glaringly obvious now that she has to roll her eyes at herself.

Your build, the fact that you never seem to be tired or catching your breath. Hell, the fact you never train with anyone else.

Natasha made an assumption and ran with it, instead of trying to see past it.

“Hey, you ok?” you ask, craddling her head in your hands. “Did you hit your head? Feel dizzy?”

“I’m just cold”

“We can’t start a fire” you regret, looking out. “Here” you pull her closer, your arms going around her shoulders. She tries to protest, but whatever she was about to say dies in her throat as soon as she feels how warm you are.

“This suit is all wet” she says, pulling away and taking it off. “Don’t look or I’ll kill you”

“Uh… what is going on?” your eyes dart to the ceiling, blushing. Then, you feel Natasha’s cold skin against you. “Jesus, Nat. You’re freezing”

You bury the both of you in more blankets, and feel her melting against your side. On instinct, your arms go around her waist and bring her closer, to which she responds by burying her face on the crook of your neck.

“So I can’t look but I can touch, huh?”

“Glad we understand each other”

—

“So…”

“So” Natasha says, landing the jet back home.

“Can we be friends? Friendly, at least?”

“No” she stands up, walking towards you. “Friends don’t look at each other the way you’ve been looking at me for the entire ride home”

“Can you blame me?” your eyes drift to her cleavage, remembering how she was practically naked and clinging to you as if her life depended on it.

“Wine and dine me, Y/L/N. And we’ll take it from there”

“Yes, Ma’am”

“Am I interrupting?” Fury shouts from the hangar.

“Yes” you say, but Natasha leaves, glaring at Fury on her way out.

“I’ve known you for thirty years and you still can’t keep it together around a pretty lady. And now I’m in trouble too” Fury says, clearly displeased.

“Hey, at least you don’t have that problem with Rogers, huh?”

“For now, Y/L/N. There’s always some trouble waiting around the courner”

You laugh and clap his back, leaving the jet. His plan may have failed, but you’re certainly not complaining.

Not when you have a hot date waiting for you.

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purifiedclitoris69 · 4 months

Text

Favorite Star - Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Summary: During halftime at the Golden Globes, two guests find an empty room. Or the one where Lizzie's dress is driving you crazy.

Warnings; (+18), semi-public smut, bottom!Lizzie, dirty talking, implied secret relationship, just sinful. | Words: 1.437k

A/N-> This is actually fluff because I'm a sweetheart and Lizzie's face after losing another award made me very upset. And as the saying goes, the devil works fast but fanfic writers work faster.

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

-&-

You've been teasing her.

All day, even before the awards began, you filled her cell phone with selfies and short videos of getting dressed in your attire - A dark green suit that hugged your body just right and was chosen to match her eyes, giving plenty of material for every rumor that has been circling about the two of you. Then on the red carpet, with intense stares and hidden smirks in her direction that your Agent probably wouldn't approve of. When you finally greeted her, you even dared to whisper how breathtaking she looked next to her ear and Lizzie should have won an acting award right there for covering the way her body shook at the compliment.

The Golden Globes party was as full as usual, and it was blistering hot and tedious. She still had to deal with an annoying host, and when the break finally happened, Elizabeth wasn't the only one who breathed a sigh of relief that the performance had been interrupted.

She made her way through the crowd towards the toilets, offering polite smiles to any of the known guests she crossed glances with and somehow, perhaps because she caught your eye before standing up, Lizzie knew you were following her.

Her heart leaped in her chest when she felt her wrist being gently grabbed. She caught a glimpse of your dilated pupils before you took the lead, holding her hand and guiding her into the first empty room you could find.

You let go of her hand to wrap your arms around her waist, a gentle push to have her against the closed door. Lizzie was still blushing because she was sure Meryl Streep had seen the whole thing.

Your lips were on hers in the blink of an eye, and all she could do was sigh, her eyes closing on instinct. Fuck, she missed this. It seemed like forever since you last kissed, Lizzie was almost beginning to think she'd imagined it.

When you broke apart, you were a little breathless, your eyes shining in her direction filled her stomach with butterflies.

"Hello, gorgeous." You greeted her with a smile, your hands stroking her sides. "Lizzie, this dress is... fuck."

She blushed at your affected tone of voice, smiling shyly. Her hands went to the collar of your dress shirt, and she stared back at you with the same intensity.

"I'm glad you like it." She whispers even though the room is empty and the noise of the party outside is enough to drown out the sounds inside. "Do you know what the best part is? How easy it comes off..." She teases naughty an inch away from your lips, pleased with the shaky sigh that escapes you. Your hands tighten a little more firmly around her waist and Lizzie bites her lip before instinctively thrusting her hips towards you. The cue is answered immediately - You grab her dress to put up a little so your thigh can fit between her legs, giving her something to grind against. But instead of giving in completely, she’s all too aware of where she is and the short time you both have before the end of the break. So Lizzie fiddles with your tie. "We can't. Not here."

You pout, the hands on her hips giving a tentative pull, forcing her to grind down into your flexing thigh, and her determined gaze falters into an aroused expression, the blood flowing not only to her cheeks but down her body, at a speed that makes her gasp for air. The hot knot on her lower belly making her dizzier by the second.

"Why wait, when you want it so badly?" You challenge back as if you knew how about the ache between her legs. You lean in to attack her collarbone with kisses that turn her into a panting mess, struggling to keep her eyes open. You gently bite the most sensitive spot behind her ear that you have learned to memorize and Lizzie lets out a soft whimper, her hips thrusting forward on instinct.

But there's movement outside. Footsteps and a soft bell. Break time is about to be over. Lizzie grumbles, the firm hands on your shoulder pushing you gently.

"We have to go." She says, but you don't let go, you pull her face to yours and kiss her hard. Your tongue makes her knees go weak and the only support is your thigh between her legs. She whines again, wishing she wasn’t wearing a dress at all. "Baby, they'll notice-" She manages to pant between your firm kisses, but she's grinding against you with a little more frenzy in the next second. Your hands move under her dress and Lizzie lets her face fall into the space of your neck, unable to care about the lipstick staining the collar of your shirt.

She choked on a moan when suddenly, your fingers reached forward - you just pushed the fabric of her already ruined panties aside and sank them inside her without warning. The throaty moan that escapes her is muffled on your skin.

It's ridiculous how helpless she is; riding your fingers in chase of her climax in near despair. And you're not gentle either, your thrusts are deep and quick inside her because you can't afford to prolong this and the second warning bell will ring soon. The cameras will be turned on again, your chairs will be empty, and more gossip about a possible relationship between the Marvel stars will surface in the media.

But Lizzie is coming hard against your hand, so she can't care about any of that right now.

It's one of the quickest orgasms she's ever had in her life, but she doesn't have time to feel embarrassed about it. You remove your hand to suck your fingers clean as she tries to breathe normally again, her hands gripping your shoulders so she doesn't slip to the floor due to her shaky legs.

You turn your face to her next, kissing her intensely and Lizzie moans at the taste of herself on your tongue. You smile as you break away.

"I kinda wanna skip the party and take you home, Miss Olsen." You let her know sweetly, and Lizzie lets out a short, breathy chuckle.

But the second bell rings, and the cameras have been turned on. She curses quietly, and you help her to stand up properly.

"Come on, let me help you with his." You ask, your hands pulling her face to lessen the mess that has become her lipstick as she tries to do the same with you.

But she knows, she knows for sure that her worn-out dreamy expression, the mess in her hair, will give away what she’s been up to. And that not only the other guests, but the fans will know too.

She swallows dryly, tugging at your hand. "They'll know."

You hesitate before giving her a small smile. "Is that so bad, Lizzie?"

She takes a deep breath, her lips cracking into a small smile. "I just... hoped to share the news in a different way."

You absorb her words for a moment, trying to ignore the warm happiness blossoming in your chest. Lizzie wants to go public. You steal a glance at the door before looking back at her and sighing. "Okay, I have an idea."

The whole thing goes very quickly; you pull your cell phone out of your pocket and take a picture of your lipstick-stained shirt collar. She looks at you with a frown.

"What...?"

"Well, you're not on Instagram so this is as good as it gets." You explain, letting her see the photo and the small caption that simply read “a good-luck kiss from my favorite star”. Lizzie felt her face burn, and she giggled nervously. This would cause some commotion, she could already imagine Twitter going insane trying to guess who you were talking to. Knowing her fans, they probably already knew.

She stares at you to say; "Your agent is going to kill you. Not only that, they'll drown you with questions when we are out of here."

You chuckled, offering her a wink. "It was totally worth it."

She approaches again, stealing a short kiss before touching the door handle. "I'll fix my makeup, you go ahead."

You pout. "But my picture was so nice..."

Lizzie rolls her eyes with a laugh. "I never said you couldn't post it." She teases, and it's her turn to give you a wink before walking out the door.

This woman is still going to be the death of you. Honestly.

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purifiedclitoris69 · 5 months

Text

Finding Home

Summary: This is a series imagining what it was life for Natasha after joining S.H.I.E.L.D. - First few chapters feature a platonic relationship but maybe it will develop. Who knows! Let's enjoy the ride :)

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, past violence.

Part 1

“You can’t be serious”

“I am always serious, Barton”

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know what else to do, how to make this situation any better. Take down an enemy, that’s easy. You just shoot an arrow.

This required more than an arrow.

“She helped us kill Dreykov. What more proof do you want, Fury?”

“I want training. And regular sessions with a S.H.I.E.L.D. shrink. And constant surveillance”

“So I’m a babysitter now?” Clint looked out the window.

“You made a decision, Barton, and now it’s time to stick by it” Fury said in a tone that made it clear the conversation was over.

“Yeah, but I was expecting a little more help from your side” the man grumbled. They both stared out the window.

“I already did. Secretary Ross wanted to prosecute you”

—

Clint left Fury’s office, aware that Natasha was following him. He was used to it by now. Without speaking to her, he walked to one of the tables in the cafeteria, resting his head on his hands.

The redhead stood by the wall, looking around as if she was ready to escape.

Maybe she would, and then he’d be so screwed not even Fury could help him.

“What’s wrong?” he heard a voice say. Clint lifted his head and saw you, smiling at him.

“I have a headache”

“And a shadow” you nodded to Natasha. As one of Fury’s apprentices, you’d heard about her already. The young woman before you was stunning in a way that was hard to ignore.

Her green eyes examined you as you leaned forward, offering your hand to introduce yourself. She kept staring and Clint chuckled.

“Scary” you said, not taking offense in her guarded demeanor. “So, what now?”

“I don’t know. I need to clear my head” the man stood up. “Wanna come to the gym with us?”

“After you”

—

Natasha was beautiful, yes. But now you understood the Black Widow monicker completely.

In a matter of minutes, she left Clint completely defeated.

Good thing she was on your side, right?

“Agent Y/L/N” Fury walked up to you as you left the gym, still thinking about Natasha’s incredible technique.

“Sir?”

“What do you make of Romanoff?”

“Well… she’s... I don’t think I have the words. She doesn’t need training, that’s for sure. In fact, she should be training our people”

“I need to know if I can trust her first. The way I trust you, and Barton, and Hills”

You crossed your arms, because Fury already knew what the plan was gonna be. And all you could do was listen and accept it.

“The secret Penthouse. I already told Maria to give you access and everything you need. Natasha stays there with you. Earn her trust”

“I can’t lie to her, Fury, and neither can you. A golden prison is still a prison” he rolled his eyes and you tried to hide your smile. It was always fun to annoy Fury with your morals.

“This is what I imagine it would be like to work with Captain America. And it ain’t fun, Y/L/N”

“I’m not saying I won’t help”

“But you’ll do it your way. Fine. No one listens to me anymore”

“Maybe you’re going soft”

—

Fury requested daily reports, which was to be expected. Except you only saw Natasha once and she barely spoke to you.

You cooked all three meals, trying to guess what she’d liked, knocked on her door to let her know it was time to eat, and then she’d wait for you to finish to come out.

Same with training. She hit the gym at break of dawn. You only saw her whenever you drove her to Doctor Taylor’s office, who was assigned to her case and then later, before dinner when she’d answer your questions about her work as a Black Widow and gave you all the information she could remember about Dreykov’s operations.

A week after moving to the penthouse, Fury and Maria showed up.

“We’re just checking”

“I sent you everything she’s told me. She’s being cooperative”

“That’s not enough” Fury said. Natasha came out of her room in that moment and you looked over your shoulder. “Let’s see what you’re made of”

“I already told you she doesn’t need training”

“Of course. I meant you, Agent” he pointed at you. “You said Romanoff should be training us. I know she can kick Barton’s ass. What about yours?”

Natasha did. You were thrown around in ten different ways, always discovering a new weak spot that you’d never thought about before.

S.H.I.E.L.D.'s young promise, panting and sweating on the gym’s floor. Begging for your life.

The last time Natasha knocked you down, you stayed there. You couldn’t take another round.

“Train together. Every day” Fury requested and you nodded.

To your surprise, Natasha offered her hand to help you up.

You smiled and took it. Fury was gone before you could say anything to him.

“Make sure you ice that punch” Maria pointed at your split lip and you sighed.

“Thanks, Hill”

As the warm water of the shower soothed your muscles, you kept going back to Natasha’s flawless movements. Of course you had read her file. The Red Room training included all kinds of physical demands and oddly enough, ballet.

To reach that level of perfection and control, Natasha must have worked out endlessly, without rest, without room for error.

Without a life. Or a childhood.

Knowing you’d be sore the next day, you took painkillers and went to the kitchen to start with dinner.

To your surprise, Natasha was already there.

“I’m sorry” she said as soon as your eyes locked. Before you could ask, the redhead clarified. “I didn’t mean to hurt you”

“Oh. It’s not your fault that I’m out of shape”

“You’re not… I’m just…”

“Better” you said, laughing. There was the glimpse of a smile on her lips.

“I can help with dinner if you want to. That pasta you made the other day was good. You’ll just have to tell me how to prepare some stuff”

“Sure. We’ll make it together” you offered, standing behind the kitchen counter. “Just don’t tell my mom I gave you the secret ingredients for the sauce. I’m supposed to share it only with the girl I marry”

When you were met with silence, you thought your attempt at a joke had gone unnoticed. Instead, you found Natasha looking at the knife you were offering so she could chop the tomatoes.

“Are you sure you want to give me a weapon?”

“What? You’re gonna chop these with your ninja moves? Come on, Nat. If you wanted me dead, you could do it with a pencil. That much is clear”

“Ok” Natasha nodded, taking it and following your instructions. You cooked in silence, until she spoke again. “No one’s ever called me Nat before”

“Sorry. Is that ok?”

“I think so”

“Alright” you nodded, smiling at her.

—

For a week, Natasha put her entire focus on your training and a new, pleasant routine developed.

Training, prepping meals, doctor Taylor, more training, dinner. Small talk here and there. Natasha never asked you personal questions, but you volunteered information about your family.

Clint stopped by and you could tell that Natasha trusted him more than anyone, including you. It was only logical, considering he was the one who put his ass on the line for her.

Maybe things would move along if he was the one here, instead of you. But Fury trusted you with this, and you had to follow his lead.

He always had a reason for eveything.

—

The autumn rain hit the penthouse windows. Natasha looked out, her head resting against her knees.

“Here” you offered a cup of hot cocoa. It was a lazy day, and you’d rather spend it making cookies than getting your ass kicked.

Sitting next to Natasha, she looked over at you as you took a sip of your own cup.

“What?” you asked when she smiled.

“You have whipped cream on your nose”

“Oh, you think that’s funny? Here” you leaned forward, getting some cream on her cheek.

“сука” she said playfully.

“I love it, let’s learn Russian curse words instead. That will please Fury”

“So, we don’t have to train today?” Natasha asked in a small voice. It almost sounded like… a child, asking if she could skip school.

“No, never if you don’t feel like it. Ok?”

“Ok” she nodded, looking out the window.

But your eyes, they remained on her. Hoping, wishing, you could help Natasha build a life worth living.

235 notes · View notes

purifiedclitoris69 · 5 months

Text

ARSONIST'S LULLABYE

kinktober day 011 | cheerleader!natasha x player!reader

"don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash" — arsonist’s lullabye, hozier

summary. natasha gets more attached than expected after a one-night-stand with the college's infamous player, both on the field and with the ladies. however, she's always been good at getting what she wants.

rating 18+ | word count 7438 (shittt)

note. natasha is 18 and y/n is 19, y/n is described to be masc-representing (eg. cropped hair, compression tee + grey sweats, tattoos, piercings)

note ii. please please please please take your time to read it, you don't understand how long i've spent pondering over every intricacy in this fic.

note iii. drinking game: take a shot every time i say 'don't fall for the player'

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

Don’t fall for the player.

This was a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Students in this renowned college came from all walks of life — from children of billionaires to self-made achievers, from prodigal minds to brilliant brains. One thing stood for certain, though, and that was the infamous Y/N L/N.

It was a rumour, tried and true, that every single girl — regardless of their sexuality, physical appearance, or social status — would all eventually fall under the spell of the school’s “player”. Try as they might, victim after victim fell helplessly for an effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

The chase never lasted long, a one-sided apex predator hunt. Once you had your eyes set on someone, there was simply no escaping the undeniable fact that the following morning, that girl would wake up in bed next to you.

Problem was, you had this rule, written in stone: Never sleep with a girl more than once.

Alas came the cruel and vicious cycle of girls falling under your spell within milliseconds, only to have their heart shattered within the next twenty-four hours. Sometimes even less.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) The wiser ones kept a distance, but either way, one fact stood true, the moment one stepped into Avengers Institution.

Don’t fall for the player.

Little did you know, soon would arrive a thorn in your plans, an unwanted distraction, your ultimate downfall.

All due to an equally irresistible girl by the name of Natasha Romanoff.

***

“You’re fuckin’ impressive for a freshman, Natasha,” Pepper whistles, clapping her on the back. “Consider yourself a member of the Avengers Institution’s cheerleading squad.”

Natasha nods breathlessly, dropping the pom-poms onto the ground. She had just completed a complicated routine for the cheerleading tryouts, a rigorous one with flips and twirls that required pristine balance.

“I guess that’s expected from a girl who was with the Red Room,” Sharon adds, somewhat snidely. She was another freshman trying out for the cheerleading squad, with a snake-like smile that was coated with too much venom to convey any sort of genuineness.

Natasha returns the smile blankly, false emotions overtaking her face like second nature — propriety, expectations, rectitude. She knew what those words meant, when they put emphasis on the Red Room.

The Red Room, in question, was one of the highest-class organisations internationally that trained talented young female cheerleaders. With a near overly-daunting curriculum, payment fees so impossibly high, and only the most renowned instructors, the Red Room was essentially associated with filthy rich wealth and spoiled privileged kids.

And such comes the tragedy of warped views on capitalism and the unfairness of the world. Sharon leans next to Natasha’s ear in the false pretence of picking something up, but her lips move dangerously swiftly and whisper, “Daddy’s money lets you get everything you want, hm?”

It only takes a second, and then the faux-innocent perpetrator briskly moves away as if nothing had occurred. Natasha stands still, the gripe washing over her back like a cold shower. She steels her shoulders, refusing to be provoked. It wasn’t her fault she’d been born with a silver-studded spoon in her mouth.

Shrugging off the strange looks some of the other girls give her, Natasha hides her annoyance by fiddling with her short skirt. Alongside college came the novelty of less-strict clothing etiquette, and that resulted in the most miniscule cheerleading skirts Natasha had ever worn in her life.

“Ready on the count of three,” Carol announces, tapping her clipboard with a ballpoint pen, surveying the expanse of the wide field.

It wasn’t Natasha’s fault she simply got everything she wanted.

“One.”

An invisible force of magnetism pulls Natasha’s gaze to the bleachers above the field, unyielding and unstoppable. There stands a tall and dark figure in a relaxed position, looking directly at her with piercing eyes. A shiver of anticipation sweeps through the air, and Natasha feels goosebumps rise on her skin.

“Two.”

Aloof charisma exudes from the person’s very presence, so compelling and captivating that it takes Natasha a moment to realise that there’s another girl standing next to the enigmatic soul. She’s chatting animatedly, under a false belief that she’s got your attention, but Natasha knows better.

Her eyes travel over the person’s sculpted figure clad in a leather jacket, tacit confidence written in your lazy smirk and composed posture. Electricity erupts in Natasha’s bloodstream, sending shockwaves coursing through her mindwires, forcing her to look back up to your alluring, forsaken eyes.

“Three.”

Natasha’s body moves mechanically, practised and poised. The rhythm thrumming from the portable speaker seeps into her practised muscles without her brain actually registering it, still reeling from the sheer impact of you.

If there was a fracture in her composure, if her routine was ever-so-slightly off, if her legs trembled more than it normally would’ve, Natasha would blame you.

Natasha would blame you and your stupid smirk, your silly leather jacket, your sickeningly magnetic allure. How you made her feel unstoppable with that come-hither gaze, then left her so low when your eyes inevitably left her.

And suddenly, like a golden key slotting into place, the words Natasha had heard whispered in the hallways finally made sense. The coveted prayer that could only be spoken under hushed tones and divine lips.

Don’t fall for the player.

When Natasha finishes the series of tumbles that ignites impressed cheers from the senior cheerleaders, she lifts her lowered eyes back to the bleachers.

Only to find your lips locked with the blonde girl from before, your hands creeping dangerously low on her back. You move like a predator python, the silver piercings in your ears glinting in the light with every of your calculated moves.

A burning feeling courses through Natasha’s veins, like an ugly green monster unfurling gradually, indescribable anger making her jaw tick.

Don’t fall for the player? Well, now that just sounded like a challenge.

***

Natasha makes her way through the crowd of students filing out from the lecture hall. The chatter fades to a background buzz in her ears as she beelines towards a group of more bearable folks.

“No, they’re a sophomore,” Wanda explained, leaning against the locker door.

“Who’re we talking about?” Natasha intercepts with a curious gaze, slinging an arm around Clint lackadaisically. Professor Banner’s lectures were highly educational, but he tended to drone on a little, and she could feel the rising boredom making its slow crescendo into the back of her mind.

Clint raises his eyebrows amusedly, then lowers his voice in humorous dramatisation. “The player.”

Natasha’s face flashes in recognition at your title. Several things flit across her mind in rapid succession — a fetching character, a lofty smirk, and a pretty girl hanging off a forearm.

“So, this uh… What’s her name?” Natasha tries to ask subtly, faking an expression of indifference. Clint, as always, side-eyes her with a playfully accusatory glance. Natasha shrugs with an odd feeling of guilt.

“Well, I’m a sophomore too, so I do have the guilty pleasure of knowing Y/N L/N,” Wanda said with a bit of a grin.

“Knows her in more ways than one!” Sam cackles, ducking as Wanda swipes at him.

Natasha feels that burning feeling rising in her chest again, and perhaps it was due to the knowledge that someone else had experienced being in bed with you — which was arguably silly, because of course you slept with plenty of women, but that didn’t quell her growing unease.

“Was the sex really that good?” Clint asks bluntly, folding his arms as he leans against the locker next to Darcy. Natasha chokes on air.

Wanda only raises an eyebrow, as if to question the poor boy of his doubts of your sexual prowess. Her knowing smirk told a thousand tales, of your sentient being seemingly reincarnated from a Goddess of Sex, of your mighty skillset of lust, the ultimate sapphic enigma.

“You tryna pull a lesbian, birdboy?” Natasha asks dryly, nudging Clint in the rib. The jibe doesn’t even give her that satisfaction. Thinking about you again had unnerved her very skin, causing clammy hands and a dry mouth.

“She leaves all the girls the morning after, though, so don’t get your hopes up,” Wanda sighs wistfully, waving her hand in the air as if she prophesied of a legend. “It’s a one-night-wonder. Kind of like an eclipse. Only happens once, but when it does, it’s really astronomical.”

Natasha flexes her fingers to get her blood flowing. All this talk about your specialised skillset in bed was making her heart flutter, in the best way possible, but maybe that per se was the worst thing possible.

Because she might acknowledge that you were attractive, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to sleep with you, right?

“And that’s why it's a common tongue around here,” Wanda concludes. “Don’t fall for the player. Simple as that.”

On cue, the noise in the hallway comically fades to silence. The gathered crowds of students make way for a quickly striding figure, clad in the same dark clothing Natasha thought about day and night.

Crossing the hallway with an easy purpose and confident composure, you walk past girls who could be seen swooning. Your gaze slides over them casually, sending small smiles here and there but never really quite focusing.

Until your eyes meet Natasha’s, of course. Like a love scene straight out of a drama, your composure cracks fractionally, and your loose confidence is subverted. It only takes a second before your persona snaps back into place.

“Hey, Natasha,” A smooth voice spills out from your angel-crafted lips. Your voice runs over her weak-willed skin, suddenly so vulnerable in your presence, and then you’re gone.

Natasha stills in place, staring after your disappearing figure. Your two words had left such a searing imprint into the front of her mind that it was honestly concerning. The chatter rises again, as if you were never there.

“Looks like you’re Y/N’s next conquest,” Wanda comments, mildly impressed. “Good luck, my friend. Just remember, don’t fall for the player.”

***

Why on earth there was a dorm party on the second day of school was a question that would forever remain unanswered.

Perhaps the adolescent spirit was the root cause of it, free and tameless and reckless, or maybe it was the temptation of alcohol and attractive folks, intoxicating and thrilling.

Either way, Natasha was here for a good time, not a long time.

Her short midnight dress flounces as she makes her way over to the partially occupied couch, the rather risky slit making its way up her thigh to reveal awfully beddable skin.

“Hey, babe!” Wanda calls enthusiastically, waving her over. There’s a Matrix movie playing on the screen, Natasha isn’t clear of which one, and there are students sprawled over the couch, the floor, and on each other.

She ends up playing a game of truth or dare with strangers, driven by warm bodies and the repetitive encouragement to indulge in a little bit of ‘fun’.

“Truth!” Darcy yells drunkenly, almost crushing her red solo cup of cheap alcohol.

“Jeez, woman,” Carol mutters, sighing at the tipsy girl’s antics. “So, truth— ever had a threesome?”

A bunch of ‘ooh’s wave like a ripple through the huddle of students, but Darcy answers with surprisingly quick coherence for a woman on her sixth cup of beer. “Hell yeah,” she drawls. “Y/N and Jane. Best night of my fuckin’ life.”

Natasha feels that wildly uncomfortable feeling of butterflies fluttering — no, thrashing, around in her stomach. It’s absolutely ridiculous that she’s so easily unsettled by you.

Said Jane Foster flushes in her seat, clearly embarrassed at having her sex life exposed. She waves a hand, trying to quiet down the growing hoots and whistles. “I mean, is it really that surprising, guys? I’m definitely not the only one! Okay, jerks, who else has laid with the famed Y/N L/N?”

Immediately, all eleven women in the dorm room have their hands raised. Well, all except Natasha, that is.

“Oh, she’s a free woman!” Valkyrie yells out, pumping her fist, and the crowd of women let out victorious cheers. “Our last standing soldier!”

Natasha smiles awkwardly in the limelight of all these older students, the strangling sensation in her gut growing stronger.

Seriously? ‘The Player’ has already slept with all these pretty girls in her second year? I would never sleep with someone who treats sex so meaninglessly…

Natasha refocuses on the game, dispelling all her thoughts that seemed to constantly circulate around you. In the bleachers, in the hallway, and now in a dorm party…

So why is Y/N L/N a muse in my mind? Why is she so inescapable?

After about six rounds of revealing shameful truths and accepting rather pointless dares, Natasha’s ready to ditch the scene altogether.

She’s barely touched any alcohol, but it was honestly a shame that her imagination was still so lucid. Getting some of that cheap beer into her system would probably help her to relax quicker, and to stop thinking about you.

“Hey, uh,” she whispers to Wanda. The older girl pulls her gaze away from the current life of the party to regard Natasha with a drunken smile.

“What’s up, Nat?” Wanda drawls, sprawling forward a little too close for comfort. Natasha cringes at her beer-tinted breath. Wanda murmurs softly, “Hey, you got a lil somethin’ in your eye. Looks like a little cloud… Oh, that’s just the light. Silly me, silly–”

“Wanda, I’m gonna head back now. Don’t worry about me,” Natasha says, slightly impatiently but affectionate nonetheless, patting Wanda’s head.

“Awh, okay,” Wanda responds drunkenly, breaking off into a little giggle as Natasha gets up. “Hey, Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fall for the player, yeah?” Wanda asks with an innocent smile, but her eyes are reminiscent of a ghost doing its last haunting. Then Wanda’s gone, gone with the wind, her attention lost to the exhilarating game of truth and dare.

There’s a moment of quiet in Natasha’s mind, save for the explicit Nicki Minaj song playing in the background with lyrics that would make a stripper blush.

She had heard that simple statement all too many times. Almost like she was meant to hear it. Like it was a premonition, a foreshadowing.

With the odd feeling of being defenceless, Natasha makes a beeline for the door. She’s had enough of silly conservations and awful thoughts; conversations that encircled around the subject of The Player, and awful thoughts of hers that always ended up being about you.

However, a shining bottle of cheap alcohol catches Natasha’s attention from the makeshift bartending station, essentially a kitchen counter. “Wouldn’t hurt, I guess,” she mutters under her breath, reaching out to grab a bottle for herself.

“Ah, that beer’s shite. The good one’s in the cupboard.”

Embarrassingly startled by the familiar smooth voice that greets her, Natasha jumps in her own skin. You again, she thinks with such indignation. What kind of sheer audacity did you have to approach her, after you were making out with another girl just the other day–

All coherent thoughts left Natasha’s mind when her eyes rake over your short-sleeve compression shirt that clung to your abdomen and arms like a vacuum-sealed package. Paired with grey sweats, it was such a beguiling mixture of taut muscles and casual wear that had Natasha growing hotter under her skin.

“I guess it’s alright for me to assume I’ve chosen the right attire for today,” you say, folding your arms in a little bit of satisfaction. That has Natasha staring at the black tattoos that decorate your thick forearms, and she’s half-crazed by the alluring sight.

Perhaps you’re showing off a little more than you normally would, but the girl standing before you was one that had invaded your mind for days on end, which was entirely uncharacteristic of your constantly horny brain.

“Can I ask you a question?” Natasha asks snarkily, returning your confidence with her very own crossed arms. Your eyes don’t miss the way her awfully kissable lips form the words on her tongue, and you certainly don’t miss the way her crossed arms push up her cleavage.

You lick your lips imperceptibly, and you notice the way Natasha’s eyes follow the movement with a hawk-like gaze. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” you respond easily, taking a single step closer to the object of your desires.

Natasha scoffs at the pet name, but you can see your close proximity subverts her composure in the slightest. Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you reach out to place your hands on her altar-like hips. She bristles under your touch, but she doesn’t move.

“Why’re you so fucking arrogant?” Natasha finally asks, hating how breathless she sounds, struggling to keep cool as your ring-adorned hands thumb the material of her short dress. You’ve got her entrapped between the kitchen counter and your sinfully sculpted body, with no way of escape. (Not like Natasha was looking for one.)

“Brat.” The dry laugh that sounds from your throat has Natasha’s heart pounding, a choked sound of pleasure caught in the back of her throat. Your big hands have moved to her sides, cradling her waist tenderly but withholding power, as if you’re ready to dig your fingertips into her soft skin at any given moment.

She thinks it’s unfair, the way your eyes are damn near psychedelic. They’re screens of mercury, smouldering and smoking with the way it trails over her body. If you’re a spark of fire, Natasha is a pool of gasoline that feeds your will.

Hot lips slant against Natasha’s ear lobe, taking it between your teeth as she shudders. Natasha’s breathy release of air as she fights to keep silent has you tugging on her earlobe with pure want.

“Can I ask you a question?” you ask, your voice a touch lower than it had been before, your hands tightening its grip on her deadly hips, the metal of your rings cool against her hot skin.

The overwhelming sensation of your big hands, hot lips and sharp teeth is enough to have Natasha’s eyes fluttering shut. She almost loses control of herself, almost lets herself fall victim to your hypnotic touch — But then you pull away, and a desperate little whine nearly falls from Natasha’s lips.

The cheerleader swallows as she stares at your crafted face, your eyes darkened with something far deeper than want, your lips tugged upwards into a devilish smirk.

“My room or yours?”

Natasha would like to say that the rest was a blur, and her alcohol-tainted memories got lost in translation — but it was a shameful and unequivocal statement that she had been entirely sober, and yet recalled every single detail of that night to vivid precision.

***

Natasha remembers you pressing her up against your door, a fervent urgency of lust unlocked within the confines of your dorm.

“So fucking desperate,” you grunt, hips knocking into Natasha’s front as you pin her against the door, lithe legs wrapped around your muscled torso.

“Shut the fuck up,” she spits, throwing her head back as your sharp teeth sink into the softness of her porcelain neck. The edge of your canines are hard and unforgiving, just how Natasha likes it, just how you scatter dark hickeys across her pale skin.

You smirk at her brattiness, finding it an exceptionally arousing trait of hers. “Pretty girl, you’re not the one in charge,” you tease, with your words and with your hands, dragging your fingertips up and under her short dress.

Natasha remembers her fingers twisting into your hair as you play her like a fiddle, teasing and edging and so blatantly talented like a prodigal concertmaster.

She whines as the cool metal of your rings nudges her nipples, her sensitivity skyrocketing with the shock. “More,” she tries to demand, but it ends up sounding like a helpless whimper and your hands move with such purpose.

You don’t help her cause by taking a hardened bud between two fingers and tugging, cries and whimpers following your fingers. Heaven is the way her breasts look all marked up by your mouth, hardened nipples and raw skin dancing in your vision.

Natasha’s nails dig into your hardened abdomen, scraping at your every muscle for all it was worth. It was something about you, something about the look in your eye, something about the way you commandeered her body with such precision and control like it was meant to be.

Natasha remembers her complete relinquishment of power, giving herself up for you, with a sick urge to be fucked within an inch of her life and then some.

Your right hand slides across her damp inner thigh to brush at her demesnes, and the sheer wetness that awaits your fingers makes you growl against her skin. “So fucking wet,” you grunt, peeling apart the thin material of her panties that cling to her sodden pussy with strings of slick.

Natasha wails, face completely flushed and so utterly gorgeous, and you can’t help but meet her lips with clashing tongue and teeth. She moans as your pierced tongue explores her mouth, and you drink up her cries of pleasure.

“Wanna fuck you silly,” you pant against her ear, fingers tracing the outline of her pretty pussy, dragging arousal along with it. Your knee keeps her legs spread nicely apart for the taking, and the vulnerability you bring out of Natasha is perhaps also the hottest thing.

Humiliation is the way Natasha agrees so quickly, nodding dumbly in acquiescence, thinking it would be nice to feel her brain melt to mush with your thick fingers and prodding tongue.

Natasha remembers the earth-shattering pleasure that wracks her body, as you divulge in providing, by leaps and bounds, the best sex she’s ever had.

Three fingers slide in and out of her dripping cunt at a phenomenal pace, and Natasha’s panting like a dog, tight velvet walls clenching around the thickness of your fingers for all it’s worth.

Finger-fucking her against the door like a heaven-descent, you bask in Natasha’s cries of pleasure. It’s never been like this, never been this heated. With Natasha, you felt like you were ascending.

“You’re gonna make a mess on the fucking floor,” you bite, a low gasp caught in the back of your throat. Natasha’s head lolls to the side, high-pitched whimpers making themselves known as she drips down your wrist and her thighs.

Natasha remembers the unravelling, the way her body seizes up out of its own accord, electricity erupting behind her half-lidded eyes.

Your hands dig into the plush of her thighs as you bring Natasha to a stupendous climax. Your fingers curl harshly, hitting her sweet spot and drawing out obscene noises from her.

“Fuck–” Natasha chokes out, high-pitched and breathy and absolutely delightful. Her hips jerk in your hands as your fingers move inside her.

“Another,” you grunt, not a request, and before Natasha can get ahold of her senses your fingers are thrusting again. She wails as your wrist jackhammers into her wet cunt, slick sounds echoing around the four walls of your room.

The second orgasm arrives even more harshly than the first, and Natasha clings onto the broad muscles of your back as you pin her against the door, toes curling and eyes squeezing shut.

She thinks she could find solace in the way your arms entrap her in a certain type of warmth, almost as if you don’t want to let her go.

But that would just be a hopeless fantasy, wouldn’t it?

Natasha remembers waking up the next morning to an empty bed.

The morning air is too cold on her bare skin. Your side of the bed isn’t even warm anymore. You must’ve left ages ago, in the dark of the night, and that thought in itself has Natasha choking on emotions she’d rather not feel.

Her clothes are still strewn on the floor and the furniture is a mess, a mockery of how far she’d let you go last night, driven by an inescapable high.

This is the game you play. Toying with girls' hearts like it was child’s play, making them feel like they were one in a million for one night only. All that alluring charisma was ugly and falsified, viewed through rose-tinted glasses.

This is the game you play, and Natasha Romanoff had fallen victim to it.

Don’t fall for the player.

Now, it was just another warning sign that she’d overlooked, and she was just like those other girls, stumbling into your open arms and cocky smirk.

Vehement fury slugs inside the cheerleader, as she forcefully picks up her strewn clothes.

Then she looks around the dorm room, your room, and time stills for a moment.

She’d expected it to be somewhat furnished, like all other dorm rooms were, maybe a cactus in the corner or a poster of a rockstar. Instead, your walls are blank and there isn’t a trophy or an award in sight.

You’re the captain of the football team, above average in academics, yet there isn’t a trace of the mark you’ve left as a student at Avengers Institution. There isn’t a trace that you’re a living, breathing human, with emotions that craft your very humanity.

Scarily enough, she feels like she’s laid in the bed of a complete stranger.

And suddenly, Natasha understands.

Don’t fall for the player.

Suddenly, everything feels a little too real, and Natasha comprehends that the statement holds far more depth than what your reputation suggested.

You were just fucking scared.

Scared of commitment, scared of growing attached, scared of being abandoned. You feared getting your heart broken, and thus you feared the longevity of relationships that involved love and romance.

As Natasha picks up her strewn clothes from the floor, with aching limbs and dishevelled hair, only one statement rings in her mind.

Don’t fall for the player.

“Maybe I will,” Natasha whispers to the ghost of your handsome, misunderstood self in the room. “But haven’t you heard I always get what I want?”

***

You couldn’t fall asleep.

You watch the empty sky as you sit on the empty rooftop of the school at four in the morning, a cigarette hanging limp between your lips. There’s an underlying anger bubbling beneath your skin, an itch that you can’t find, simply stewing there to your frustration.

Romance was bullshit.

It was plainly obvious from the way girls approached you. Flirty eyes and feather-light touches meant only one thing. And they were all so pretty, so who were you to complain, right?

All those girls always ended up in your dorm bed, sweaty and short of breath. Your heart would pound, and your mind would go wild with endless possibilities of what could happen if they just stayed.

“You can stay if you want,” you muttered off-handedly to one of your first few hookups in college. The look that the girl returned was so unimpressed that you never asked that question again.

But it was okay, because sex was something that you were good at, and those girls had their fun. It was okay, even if there was something missing. It was okay that your reputation preceded your identity. Even if those expectations spiralled far beyond your control.

With every passing girl you brought to bed, the gnawing hole in your chest only grew bigger. You craved something that you couldn’t obtain. Even if your heart was crawling out of its ribcage every time a girl breathed your name, every time she laid a hand on your chest.

Last night, Natasha Romanoff took that gaping hole in your chest and ripped it right open.

“Please, Y/N,” Natasha had whined, and there was reverent devotion in the way you held her hips, in the way you pulled her close.

��Stay,” you had wanted to whisper, so badly, so many times, but her hands were streaking red marks down your back and her body was shuddering under yours.

So you kept your forbidden mouth shut and continued to do what you did best. All the ‘what-ifs’ were just hopeless dreams. You couldn’t stay, you couldn’t commit. You weren’t allowed to, not after the expectations that had been set for you.

Romance was bullshit, after all.

“You seem troubled,” a female voice announces from behind you, but you don’t bother to turn back. Taking your silence as consent, the girl sits next to you.

“Give me a light,” the girl says, leaning closer to you, and only then do you turn to look her over. Blonde girl, 5’8, blue eyes. Freshman.

“Sharon Carter, right?” you ask indifferently, and the girl lets out a bemused huff as she makes her comfortable next to you.

“Wow, so you do know every girl in this school,” Sharon comments, and there’s a teasing lilt in her voice that hints at how this is going to end up.

You pull out a cigarette, passing it over to the blonde girl, noting how her fingertips brush over yours for a second too long. “Maybe I do,” you respond with false cockiness, the smirk overtaking your face almost unconsciously.

This is the right thing to do, you convince yourself, as Sharon’s hand creeps to your thigh. One girl after the other. You couldn’t get attached.

“Impressive. Put away your light. It’s healthier to destress in another way,” Sharon whispers, tossing her cigarette to the rough concrete.

What a waste, you think, but then the same could be said about a lot of other things in your life.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate your existence. You wonder why you’ve ended up this way. What you’ve done to deserve girls throwing themselves at you when you began to despise all of them.

When Sharon brings her lips closer to yours, and you find yourself meeting her halfway, because you’ve done it so many times.

There’s this tugging of your heart that almost feels like guilt, but you shove it down and drag your tongue between a set of lips. All too easily, your hands draw patterns across her chest and her thighs, a mastered craft that came mechanically.

Even if it is the right thing to do, it doesn’t feel right.

Your head is swimming with unbearable thoughts of Natasha Romanoff, and you try to erase her on the tongue of another girl who could never compare.

It doesn’t feel right, but it’s the easy way out, and it’s what’s expected of you.

Always has been.

***

“Fuck, Y/N—” is the first thing Natasha hears when she meanders into the bathroom the morning after.

She had wanted to get an early start on the new morning, but alas, fate had it out for her.

For a while, Natasha is surprised that she isn’t surprised. You’ve got a pretty blonde girl on the bathroom counter, one hand up her skirt and the other twisted in her hair.

The girl throws her head back in a bout of pleasure, and Natasha’s thinking that maybe she looks a little familiar. It’s her cheekbones, strung high like a haughty prick. “Daddy’s money always gets what you want, hm?” rings in her head.

A spark of fire burns any ounce of indifference Natasha has to ashes. Sharon Fucking Carter.

Sharon’s painted nails were digging into the expanse of your shoulder blades, and it looked downright painful. Your dexterous fingers were plunging into her sodden cunt, rendering her barely coherent.

It all looks so wrong, and Natasha wants to crawl out of her skin before the jealousy eats her alive.

“Fucking hypocrite, aren’t you?” Natasha spits venomously, hands clenched into fists of fury, making her presence known.

When Sharon jumps away from you like she’s been burned, Natasha can’t help but let evil glee surge through her stomach. Serves you right, she thinks, staring at your dishevelled hair that somehow only made you look more handsome.

It’s different, this time, with your eyes darting as if you were unsure of yourself. (Astonishing, considering your mean streak of being cold as ice.) There’s resentment in the way your face sets, and a type of hurt that causes Natasha to falter.

“Daddy’s little bitch,” Sharon scoffs, fixing her skirt with no attempt to hide her disdain. “Why don’t you fuck off, huh?”

Natasha scoffs, eyes widening in fractional aggression. “I-”

“You should go, Carter,” you say monotonously, almost defeated but wavering on the edge of frustration.

The blonde girl whips her head around to stare at you with incredulousness written in her wide eyes. She lets out a dry laugh of betrayal. “Fuck, look at the two of you. Match made in hell.”

The bathroom door slams shut with a piercing thud. Both you and Natasha don’t flinch.

“You didn’t have to call Sharon a hypocrite,” you mumble, flicking your head back to look in the mirror.

There’s something off about you that no one else has ever had the privilege of seeing. It makes Natasha’s heart soar and her blood boil simultaneously.

“She wasn’t the one I was calling a hypocrite.”

A moment passes between the two of you where you flick an invisible switch.

“I’m the hypocrite, Romanoff?” you ask, evidently provoked. A crazed look in your eyes draws Natasha’s attention, because you’re putting on a false facade all over again.

“Am I the hypocrite for fucking another girl? It’s all I do, isn’t it? That’s what I’m known for. You don’t get to be so butthurt because you were just a one-night.”

A sickly sourness lines your mouth as you spew words that aren’t true, because your heart was fighting every battle to get to Natasha Romanoff.

“What you’re failing to realise,” Natasha begins stately. “Is that this isn’t about me. Fuck it if I’m just another girl on your ever-growing fuck list. Because maybe I am. But you’re lying to yourself if you think you’re happy.”

“Oh, so now you’re determining my emotions for me,” you retort with as much snark as you can muster. “You weren’t acting this high and mighty last night in my bed.”

“Quit the act,” Natasha scoffs, then letting a bittersweet smile cross her face. “You’re hiding behind weak retorts because you’re scared. Scared of being alone. But you don’t have to be anymore.”

Lost, your hands twitch, and you allow yourself to believe that maybe Natasha is your salvation. Defense mechanisms kick in, but you know you’re fighting a losing battle.

“Sorry to disappoint, Romanoff, but don’t try to play therapist. I’m not some kind of victim you’re going to diagnose,” you sneer. “I’m free to do whatever the fuck I want without your judgment.”

“Free?” Natasha asks, an incredulous look in her eyes. She laughs in mockery with an unwavering gaze. “You’re not free. You can’t go a day without fucking a girl. You’re a prisoner, and you’re shackled by your own desires and wants. Except this time, that luxury has become an addictive coping mechanism.”

Dark eyes flash with a glimmer of danger, and you’re so much like a trapped animal gone hostile that Natasha’s heart breaks a little.

“You’re wrong,” you answer, but your hands are shaking so violently that you hardly seem like the person she once thought you were.

Where complete equilibrium once was, a desperate frenzy of unease is what exudes from you now. Natasha feels a twinge in her heart when you whisper “You’re wrong,” again, this time substantially more quiet and resigned.

“Prove it, then,” Natasha challenges, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your face. Her eyes search yours so desperately, and you’ve stripped naked in front of a hundred girls, but you’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Prove that you’re more than whatever they say about you.”

With the strange urge of tears pricking at your eyes, you stare at Natasha with all the hopelessness any broken heart could muster, and for a moment you can see the doubt in her eyes. Like you’ve disappointed her, just like all the girls who’s hearts you’ve broken.

But when you first kissed Natasha Romanoff, it was never going to be just another one-night, was it?

With the final semblance of humanity in your burden-stricken mortality, you drag a shaky thumb along Natasha’s cheekbones like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, and the deeply-rooted self-loathing inside you fades away, just a little bit.

Your parted lips meet Natasha’s in a prologue to an unfinished symphony. You delve in like she’s your last lifeline, and maybe Natasha is, from the way she rests her fingers on your hips with a gentleness you’ve never experienced.

A carnal urge washes over you, because this time you’re not afraid to admit that you want Natasha Romanoff. You spread your hands, feeling up as much of her as you can, running it down her back then squeezing at her rounded ass—

And then Natasha’s pulling away, and only then do you hear the cluster of footsteps approaching the washroom.

“Tonight,” she whispers with a hint of smirk. Natasha goes on her tippy-toes to press a kiss on the tip of your nose, and then she’s gone.

You stand there with wide eyes, in the washroom where students filter in, lingering with the ghost of Natasha Romanoff’s lips and a piece of your heart melted onto the floor.

***

You were positive you were going to start ripping off your skin if you didn’t start fucking Natasha Romanoff in this exact moment.

But that would be a bad idea, because you were in the middle of a psychology lecture, and Professor Harkness probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

After a torturous hour of you shifting in your seat, you sprint out the lecture hall. Thanking the heavens that it was your last lesson of the day, you dodge and weave through the crowd of students in the hallway.

“Hey, Y/N,” A small group of sophomore girls call out, checking you out like a piece of meat. Normally, their flirtatious winks and little skirts would have you folded in an instant, but you couldn’t wait a moment longer.

You send them a polite smile and continue on your hasteful journey, missing the comical way their faces fall.

Upon your dutiful research, you knew where Natasha’s dorm was located, but you planned to stop by your own dorm to pick up a little something. (Okay, maybe the something wasn’t that little.) You yank open your door with purpose—

Only to find Natasha already sprawled out on your dorm bed, dressed in one of your shirts and nothing else. You almost pass out. Almost.

“Nat,” you groan, locking the door behind you. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not before I come, I’m afraid,” Natasha sighs with a pleased smile. She beckons you over with a come-hither motion, spreading her legs in invitation.

You bite back an affected noise in the back of your throat, pushing Natasha back down on to the bed with fervour. With a crushing sense of urgency, you slide your hand between her pretty thighs, not waiting a single moment.

“Slow down,” Natasha instructs, tilting your head up to stare at her blown pupils. “Take your time. Don’t just fuck me. Do it like you mean it.”

Upon hearing those words, a rush of pride washes over you and then you’re so eager to please, desperate to somehow prove yourself.

Your fingers find the hem of her shirt and tug it over her head, revealing the bare mounds that are Natasha’s tits. A shaky exhale leaves your lips as your fingertips experimentally brush over her hardened buds.

“God, you’re built,” Natasha moans, running her hands over the edges and curves of your muscle. It’s tight and taut under her touch, so defined and carved.

You shudder under her explorative touch, returning your attention back to the beautiful girl in front of you.

You were so used to hot, fast, explosive sex that turning back time was such a jarring awakening of everything that you were missing out on.

It put things into perspective, that you had never actually made love. And since this was your first time, you were determined to do it right, especially for Natasha.

You trail open-mouthed kisses down her sternum and stomach, savouring the taste of her skin. Your hands grasp at her tits, enjoying the feel of it in your hands.

You’re experiencing things you never got to experience, like the rise and fall of Natasha’s pale chest, the way her eyelids flutter gently.

Temporarily avoiding where she needed you most, you hear Natasha let out a whine. You tease her hole with your tongue, smearing her slick messily.

“Fuck,” Natasha curses, winding her fingers into your hair. “Please, I need it,” she whines, as you lick at her clit.

“M’kay, baby,” you mumble against her wet folds, because you could never deny Natasha of anything, could you?

You slide your tongue in her twitching pussy, and begin one of the most passionate love-making sessions

You listen out for when Natasha hitches her breath, when her hips stutter, when she mewls out. You learn the instrument of her body, understand and test out the different reactions you can draw out.

After minutes of what seem like pure bliss with erratic breaths and pleading keening, you speed up and the reaction is immaculate.

“Y/N,” Natasha cries, as your tongue goes in and out of her dripping cunt. Her slick goes down her thighs and your chin, making the most obscene noises.

It’s wet and squelching, and you proceed to devour Natasha’s pussy for everything it’s worth.

For a millisecond, Natasha wonders if anyone has ever died from being eaten out too passionately. Erotic Oral Overdrive, maybe.

Her first orgasm comes in a gradual crescendo, her hips rocking in waves as you dutifully match her unwinding.

Natasha lets her eyes flutter shut as the moment overwhelms her senses. Until the silence is finally broken by you.

“Got a little something for you,” you say with a quirked brow, sliding your hand into the bedside cabinet to retrieve that little something.

“Oh, fuck,” Natasha whines, upon seeing the biggest strap-on toy she’s ever had her eyes upon in her life.

You ease in the cock with no amount of trouble, through Natasha’s already slick cunt. You start with a gentle pace, because you’re trying to be slow.

Apparently, Natasha has different plans this time around.

“Harder,” Natasha growls, digging her nails into your muscled back. You let out a low gasp, because you’re already so deep inside her divine pussy, and you didn’t think you could go any deeper.

Gripping her thighs and spreading it as far apart as you can, you thrust impossibly deeper and your hips slap against Natasha’s.

Her eyes roll back, and she arches off the bed as you continue to thrust and make a nest for yourself inside her.

“Y/N, ungh– please, fuck—” Curled toes wrap around your back as she writhes against the bed.

With the way your cock bulges against her skin, you’re quite sure you could actually split Natasha in half. She’s clawing at your back, calling out your name to the ceiling.

When you pull out, Natasha whines, velvet walls clenching tighter around to keep you deep inside. But then you thrust all the way in again and a scream rings around your dorm room.

You don’t give a flying fuck about the noise level as you pound into Natasha, splitting open her pretty little pussy. “So fucking tight and wet,” you moan into her ear. “All for me, baby?”

It’s fucking possesive, the way you manhandle her to look at her rolled-back eyes and slack jaw.

“Mhm– yes! Oh God, yes, please, Y/N!” Natasha shrieks, clenching so tight you swear you can feel her wet pulse through the huge strap-on.

But it isn’t just any strap-on, and Natasha realises this with a breathy gasp, because it’s a squirting strap-on, and then you’re unloading into her ruined cunt with a deep growl.

Natasha wails, legs in the air, as you pump your seed into her pussy. It’s thick and flows out in pumps, and she milks your cock dry.

“Good girl, Nat,” you breathe, rocking in slow motions so she can recover from her high.

Finally, you collapse on top of Natasha as she lets out a breathy laugh. “What happened to not fucking the same girl twice?”

“You’re infuriating,” you grunt, rolling your hips once in retaliation. You delight the small victory of Natasha whimpering under you.

Natasha rolls her eyes at your impertinence, leaning up to press a small kiss on your forehead. “Infuriating? More like irresistible.”

It’s your turn to laugh, grasping her hips and pulling her impossibly closer. “You’re right,” you whisper truthfully. You think you could stay like this forever.

“Stay if you dare,” Natasha whispers, letting her hand trace over the curvature of your angled face. As you lay above her, you turn your head so that your lips brush against her palm.

Your warm lips are so delicate that Natasha could almost weep, and that’s all the response she needs before breathing a gentle sigh, hence letting sleep drift her consciousness away.

For the first night amongst many, a quiet calm settles in your dorm room ‘til the sun rises again.

***

Don’t fall for the player.

Once upon a time, that used to be a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Tried and true, was the rumour that every single girl in this school would eventually fall victim to The Player’s effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

And this might be true, because whenever you strolled the hallways or scored a touchdown, you were bound to have admirers cheering your name or flirty winks thrown in your way — However, there was a catalyst. A change, if you would.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) What used to be a smooth mouth and wandering hands became a delicate kind of control, saved for only one particular student.

Gone was your blatant charisma and swagger in treating other girls, because now there was only one on your mind — Natasha Romanoff. Be it in on the bleachers, in the hallways, or during dorm parties, never were you seen without the girl who always got what she wanted.

And that included the very subject of the mantra that defined Avengers Institution:

Don’t fall for the player.

so... this was one full month of work. i've never been this dedicated to a singular project. wow. uh, please reblog. it's the only true way of supporting your little creators on this app, so help me out here. thanks for reading. out of curiosity, which part did you like the most?

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

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purifiedclitoris69 · 10 months

Text

This is what i was envisioning for Y/n or the shadow thing hehe. The mask and the dark matter smoke trailing off her.

Anyway, im sorry to say I don’t have a fs eta for ch. 4 but im shooting for mon. Thanks for reading :)

#marvel fanfic #enhanced!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #fem!reader

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purifiedclitoris69 · 10 months

Text

When to Give Up - 3

A/n: Thank you for the support on the last one, it’s nice to see people enjoying the story.. Again hope you enjoy ;)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of Violence, Torture, Angst.

Word Count: 2.1k

Steve and Bobbi sat in the pilot seats as Maria began the briefing.

“Now from the flash drive, we know Strucker was the one conducting the experiments,” Maria began pulling up pictures, “after more intel was gathered, Daniel Whitehall has also been connected to Y/l/n.”

“My team and I were able to get Whitehall a year back,” Bobbi said, getting up from her seat and joining.

“Now we all know Stucker doesn’t go into the field,” Maria added, “so Yelena and Kate strung up handlers, and a specific one stuck out, “Marcus Scarlotti,” another picture was pulled.

“He was previously an assassin for Hydra,” Bobby said, “after their fall he’s been moved up the ranks.”

“You still haven’t told us where we’re going,” Natasha huffed impatiently. She needed to see you; she hadn’t been able to breathe properly since figuring it all out. Getting closer to wherever you are is making her antsier and antsier.

“Romanoff,” Steve warned.

“She’s right they are moving a little slow,” Wanda added in defense to Nat.

“--Sydney,” Bobby interrupted before Steve could say anything, “We are going to Sydney, Australia.”

“They’re another deal Hydra’s planning to make, at these docks,” Maria pulled up a map, “weapons exchange, alliance, ambush, we don’t know.”

“They’re back in a cockroach stage,” Bobbi added, “ we’re essentially going in blind, our mission is to retrieve Y/n, which is our only mission.” Natasha nodded.

“30 mins out,” Steve announced getting up and joining them, “this isn’t going to be easy. Hydra is very desperate right now, and the Y/n down there isn’t ours. We need to be very careful.”

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They had landed on one of the adjacent buildings, putting the jet into stealth mode.

“How you doing,” Bobbi approached Nat, loading up the last of their toolbelts.

“I don’t know,” Nat breathed.

“We just have to stay focused,” Bobbi tried to comfort, feeling bad for blaming her, “I want her back too.”

“Alright, time to get into positions,” Steve said getting ready to drop the hanger door.

Bobbi stayed on the building as a sniper. Maria and Natasha moved down to the site with Wanda and Steve, as Wanda and him approached closer.

No one had arrived yet, the docks we’re eerily quiet, with the gentle waves against the shore wall. It had felt like ages before anyone had said anything.

“Targets approaching,” Bobbi announced through the comms, “About 30 klicks North.”

“What’s the visual,” Natasha questioned.

“3 Black Escalades, look to be bullet proof.” Bobbi answered.

“Get the zipline set up in case we need help,” Steve spoke as the cars got closer and closer. Bobbi shot down a zipline to a nearby shipping crate, just out of site.

“2 klicks,” she updated as they began to hear cars approach.

The three stopped in a line and the driver door to the front car opened followed by all the others. Multiple well-built guards had gotten out looking around and going to the middle car. The driver seat had opened revealing another guard; the back window rolled down as Natasha’s breath caught, hoping to see you. The person had reached out quickly as the guard handed them a phone.

“Asian male, looked to be maybe mid-20s and loaded,” Bobbi informed, “and it looks like we got a semi about 25 klicks out.”

“Can we get a visual inside,” Steve asked

“They’re weapons” Bobbi answered.

“Where’s Y/n,” Natasha blurted out.

“She’ll be here, Romanoff,” Steve said as the semi pulled up.

“I-,” lights began to flicker, all the cars had shut off.

“Shit,” Maria whispered. It felt like the shadows were growing. It had all gone dark, as the lights came back, Scarlotti and a handful of once again well-built tall men had appeared.

“That was creepy,” Bobbi stated as all the attention moved to Scarlotti and the other hydra henchmen, but where were you.

The young Asian man had finally exited the car, “Can we get facial recognition on him,” Steve asked instantly.

“Cristanto Gui,” Bobbi answered, “26 and very rich.”

“I don’t like the way this is starting to feel guys,” Wanda voiced,” something’s off.”

“What do you mean,” Steve looked at her, “can you feel someone.”

“Wanda,” Nat called, “is she here?”

“I don’t know something’s just off,” Wanda mumbled.

“Bobbi, what’s the visual on the last SUV,” Steve asked receiving no response, “Bobbi,” he questioned again, “Hill, try and get ahold of Bobbi, Wanda get ready to move in.”

“but we don’t have a sight on Y/n,” Nat said to Maria.

“I don’t think that’s the mission anymore,” Maria said pulling out equipment to try and get a visual on Bobbi. Natasha had began to feel watched, ensuring her gun was loaded she scanned their surroundings, stopping at a dark corner.

There you stood, just before the light, completely in black, with black residue trailing behind you like smoke. A slick black mask covered your face completely as you watched emotionlessly Natasha make eye contact with you.

“Hill,” Nat spoke softly pointing her gun at you as you formed a decent dagger from the dark matter surrounding you.

“Shit, shit, shit,” all hell broke out. Maria dropped the equipment drawing at you as the sudden movement caused you to disappear into black cloud and appear to the side of them. Gun fire was heard from every direction. You disarmed the two agents quickly but they put up a decent fight even with you appearing and reappearing, but not decent enough. You had them on the floor, Maria balling up in pain and Natasha freshly coughing on the floor. You walked slowly to Maria forming another knife. You had gotten closer and closer getting ready to stab her, as a high pitch siren interrupted. A new stark addition, causing you to drop to the ground and cover your ears in pain.

Thrashing around on your knees, you heard the helicopter approach. It was the getaway plan, they were leaving you, they had gotten their weapons. You looked at the device making the noise, summoning all your strength to go back into your dark matter state. Teleporting to the device and crushing it with your powers. The Scarlet Witch and Captain America ran toward you as the helicopter pulled up the ladder and began to leave. You shook your head, trying to think straight, as you drew up another dark matter sword.

"Y/n," Nat spoke picking herself up off the ground as all eyes were now on the both of you, Steve with his shield raised, Wanda's magic coursing around her fingers, and Maria's hand back on a gun, "it's Natalia," A part of you yearned for her in a way you didn't recognize. Everyone was breathing heavily awaiting your next move. Where you y/n? Why do you need to be so close to this Natalia?

The Scarlet Witch approached closer, but you weren't dumb. You had been briefed on all threats. You knew what they were cable of, but no one knew what you were. The clouds of dark matter trailing around you grew, as they all froze and watched. Beings began forming from the matter, twisted shadows crawling out of your cloud. You and your demon things charged at all of them. You specifically going for Wanda. She had risen above you, attempting to get a hit on you but you skillfully teleported all around. Throwing punch after punch at everyone; teleporting right beside Wanda, wrapping yourself around her, and throwing her into a shipping container. Everyone on the floor, you called your beings back, as they all crawled back into the smoke they came from. You drew back your swords staring at the destruction you caused. It was wrong. It had always felt wrong, but looking at The Black Widow on the ground before you in pain, had the whispers in your head screaming at you, your eyes brimming with tears behind your faceless dark mask.

Wanda had gotten back up, the container creaking with her movements, “jesus that hurt,” she mumbled standing up straight and looking at you. You stood there confused, she wasn’t suppose to have this much stamina, endurance. You tried to react quickly getting ready to throw a dagger at her but with your lack of attention, she was able to use her power to contain you, keeping you in place. You looked around as they all started getting up off the ground. You can’t get captured again, you start thrashing, heart speeding up, you don’t know what they’ll do. The widow slowly limped over as you continued thrashing.

“Easy, Y/n,” she soothed successfully, you stopped thrashing, breathing still heavy. She began reaching towards your mask, once again everyone watching. You fell deep into her eyes, that perfect emerald green, she stared right back. Not realizing her hands had reached your mask, she turned it to unclick, revealing you, your sad tired eyes and your freshly busted lip. She smiled softly at you reaching a hand to cup your face.

“Go to hell,” you gritted expelling enough dark matter to cut through Wanda’s energy and send everyone back to the ground.

You landed crouched on the floor, grabbing your mask and leaving. As you began to walk away, a strong jet engine was heard above you. You watched from afar as one of their jets hovered above the damage. Watching agents drop down and retrieve the injured team, you didn't know what to do. Natasha watched in the same way, laying on the floor, she had known you were still watching in the shadows.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They were all helped into the Quinjet one by one, seeing Bobbi stabilized on the med table from a stab wound. As the med team treated them, they sat in silence.

Natasha was hurting, physically hurting, and not her injuries, not her back where you slammed her into the metal barrels, or her shins to which you swiped to take her down, her chest. Her heart felt like it was being constricted and her throat burning with a sob. She was close. She knew you were still in there. If you weren't why didn't you take them out, her, Bobbi, the whole team? You recognized them...in some way you recognized them. She had to believe that.

Wanda moved to sit next to Natasha, "How are you feeling, Nat, your mind is loud." She looked at Wanda too tired to scold her for listening to her thoughts. Wanda leaned her head on Nat's shoulder, providing some comfort," she's in there, Tash, I felt it."

It was reassuring to hear, but where were you now. You were right there, right infront of her and now you’re gone again. It could be weeks, months before they get another lead.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You had teleported to an empty landing strip in the deep fields of Australia. Arriving in the hangar, you saw the semi of weapons that we were after, as well as the main target. The chemical dispersion device, the one that Gui had constructed personally. You approached quietly as groups of people spoke in different areas of the hanger.

"You made it," Scarlotti approached walking out of a tent set up in the hanger," Strucker's here," he grinned, your jaw clenching under your mask.

"There's my masterpiece," Strucker greeted as you entered the tent," let's take of the mask shall we." You followed instructions without hesitation, untwisting the mask once more.

"They weren't all there, we’re trying to find out now how they knew," Scarlotti stated leaning against the desk behind Strucker.

"Beautiful," he said circling you, "everything's on track," you began to zone out as they talked more, your mind flashing back to the widow on the ground repeatedly. More specifically the urge you had to you don't know..help her. Your knee was kicked in to make you kneel, "Agent Shadow, are you not present," Strucker questioned.

"Natalia," you spoke softly.

"Agent Shadow," Strucker called making you look up at him.

"i hurt her."

"that was the plan," Scarlotti said confused as Strucker began to pace, "What is happening," tears began to form in your eyes as flashes of dreams? memories? ran through your head, all containing Natalia Romanova.

"Tell the doctors to prep the chair," Strucker sighed rubbing his forehead, you blinked away the tears as Scarlotti walked away to do so and two of the better-built henchmen came to lift you from your knees and carry you to the blender. They stripped you of your suit, leaving you in your sports bra and combat pants, you were there for them to do whatever to you. Feeling the straps secure around you, you helplessly and hopelessly lean back, opening your mouth for the mouth guard. The machine buzzed on, the headpiece secured in place, you bit down on the mouthpiece letting out screams once more.

#enhanced!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha angst #marvel fanfic #marvel #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff

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purifiedclitoris69 · 10 months

Text

thanks for the love everyone. the uploading schedule is pretty random but ch3 is in the works :)

When To Give up - 2

A/n : Hi! Very raw unedited short ch just to try and get me going again. hope u enjoy. thanks :)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of torture, violence, angst.

Word Count: 1.9k

It wasn’t suppose to go like this. It was suppose to be a simple mission, how come you didn’t see it.

You had been watching from afar, keeping tabs on the base in question for a month and a half, it was a pretty boring mission, weren’t getting much lead way, until you entered that shitty diner. It was shady from the beginning but you had intel from the bugs you planted in that base, a deal would be going down there, you just didn’t know that the deal involved you. Unknown to you shield or at the time hydra was handing you over for experimentation. You are a highly trained world class assassin, who wouldn’t want to experiment with your capabilities. You had tried to fight your way out and things were looking good for a minute until you felt the two pricks in the back of your shoulder, two tranquilizers.

That’s how you ended up here, day after day of pure torture. They would stick you with as many things as possible, putting your brain in the blender over and over again. You fought at first, but how much fight could you put up with the things they did and after the hours of torture they put you through you would get thrown in a concrete cell with absolutely nothing in it. You’d lay there for hours on the cold, damp floor hoping and praying to a god that you didn’t even believe in that someone would save you.

But things started to get bigger than you imagined.

“ ahh good morning Miss y/l/n,” you heard the thick accent say as you felt the cold water splash across you,” get up we have great plans for you this week.”

Your attempt to sit up slowly was futile as two brutes came in and picked you up by the arms as your body stayed limp from pure exhaustion. They threw you on the table in the middle of the experimentation room that you have become so accustom and began to unchain you just to strap you back down to the table.

“just kill me,” you pleaded tiredly.

“oh but with our new materials, you are going to do amazing things..help us discover amazing things,” the chilling voice belonging to Strucker,” prepare the gallery,” he directed one of the brutes,” now be good today, we have an audience.”

You lazily turned your head to see the usually empty gallery was an older man with a clean white cut and circle black glasses in a grey suit.

“Daniel Whitehall,” Strucker informed you,” my longterm mentor and friend, we will not be letting him down today,” Strucker turned towards one of the other doctors in the room and nodded his head.

You heard treys being moved and machines begin to run as cold medal gripped your shoulders and upper arms as well as your thighs and calfs. You closed your eyes and let tears fall silently as some kind of metal wired helmet was placed on your head. You opened your eyes to see unknown ugly bubbly black purple liquid prepared to corse through your veins.

“eins..zwei..drei..injizieren,” you felt hundreds of needles prick you were the medal pads laid as shocks came from the helmet and an intense burn set throughout your body. It felt like you were being set on fire from the inside out, you could feel the unknown thick liquid run through you as you let out blood curdling screams, just begging to be killed. You were scared, in pain, and all alone, and you felt like it was never going to end. You blacked out after that, waking up alone on the experimentation table.

You were in a daze, they usually just throw you back into your cold damp cell, but something was different. Voices arouse in your mind; not saying anything , just mumbles and sorrow. It was painful like your skin was being pealed back layer by layer, they were practically screaming to be let out, so that’s what you did, you screamed. Everything you’ve been through flashing through your mind, the red room, the training, the killing, your friends, Bobbi, Yelena, Natasha, your sweet beautiful Natasha, her breaking your heart, Strucker breaking you, the voices going quiet after youve ripped your throat raw, you were left with broking sobs, just for you to hear the whispers return.

“That was beautiful,” you heard the static of the intercom,” really bravo.”

“You have done an excellent job, Strucker,” you slowly opened your eyes as your tears slowed. The Whitehall man and Strucker stood above in the gallery as you took in the damage surrounding you. Everything around you was thrown, black residue everywhere.

“What have you done.”

“We’ve made a new discovery, Miss Y/l/n,” White stated straightening his tie,” prep her for another injection.”

“Please, please, just kill me,” you sobbed.

“You should be grateful, your playing such a big part in this,” Strucker spoke as more hydra agents came in extinguishing the small fires.

“Discovery requires experimentation, Miss Y/l/n,” Whitehall smirked, “and we have much much more to discover.”

——————————————————————

Discoveries hydra made.

With the amount of chemicals and things they did to you. You developed a series of powers, enhanced strength, agility, hearing, and of course your shadow manipulation. You were one of their favorite little lab rats. They had tried to make duplicates of you, others, but it didn’t work, not the way they wanted. Those it made it through that actual injection went mad, blood thirsty, built up a rage they couldn’t contain, that only you were able to.

Clenching your teeth as yet another needle is stabbed into your neck. The liquid flowed throughout your veins, as you thrashed around trying to get out, with futile efforts.

“Come on Y/l/n, you’ve been here long enough to know there’s not point in fighting it,” Strucker spoke as he wrote down notes. He comes into view as he prepares another needle for injection,” soon you will be the perfect killing machine, that hydra needs to rise once more.”

“Fuck you,” you seethe through gritted teeth as another needle is stabbed into the other side of your neck.

“Oh Y/n, don’t worry, the pain will be over soon enough,” Strucker spoke condescendingly,” after your physiological conditioning you won’t feel anything, but they need to obey.”

“You’re fucking dead,” you breathed panting,” you hear me?” you shout,” I’m going to get out of hear, and once I do I’m going to fucking kill you!”

Strucker lets out a chuckle,” prepare another injection.”

They finished four more rounds of injections in your arms, ignoring your screams of pain.

“Let’s open her restraints,” Strucker orders as he makes he makes his way out of the room. All of your restraints are undone and you breathing begins to slow and you sit up with a new rage, ready to get your pay back for everything this man has done. But he smirks as he’s about to leave room and three of his brutes walk in with fire resistant gear and sticks and shields,” don’t worry Miss Y/l/n if the injections worked, you should be healed and ready for another round in less then 12 hours.”

Looking between the three men, one of the batons collides with your face and you stumble backward loosing you footing. You haven’t exactly figured out your powers but You light a flame in your hand began to get back up before, one of the other guys stick you in the neck with the electricity running on his baton. Your vision goes blurry after the weeks of tortures as the other two men hold your arms behind your back.

“Let’s get to work boys.”

Pain, that’s all you were processing. The men hit you over and over again, not even knowing for how long.

——————————————————————

They broke you about a year and a half back, turning you into the loyal killing machine needed to keep them a float.

They turned you back into the assassin that the red room crafted, so naturally SHEILD got word of your ‘abilities’ natural and enhanced. You were labeled as the Shadow thing. An assassin showing up worldwide on SHIELD’s radar for about 7 months, known for leaving black residue at your scenes, and your victims with milk white eyes and black infesting knife wounds, knives unknown to man. You had been a mystery; but with the flash drive Kate and Yelena had found, answers were being revealed.

The flash drive documented what had happened to you; the experimenting, torturing, and brainwashing of you. You’ve become their main muscle to build it all back up. once again in the shadows.

Your screams were further heard on a small screen projected in the lab, Tony and Bruce both with grimaces on their faces. Natasha stood in the doorway unnoticed with tears in her eyes. Those were your screams. Y/n screams, and all Natasha could do was listen.

“You shouldn’t be listening Nat,” Bruce had stood up and the tv remained off as Natasha blinked away her tears.

“You guys have been watching going through that thing for almost 6 hours.” Natasha blinked, “please tell me you found something.”

“The last time this was updated was almost 14 months,” Tony spoke running his eyes, “and it was of her going through the winter solider initiative.”

Natasha’s breath was caught. Everything they had fought to get out of; you had been thrown back into..and she wasn’t there, all because she was scared. She didn’t want to loose her best friend because of some feelings. She couldn’t, but now she had.

“We’re trying to understand her full capabilities,” Bruce had interrupted Natasha’s thoughts, “she has some sort of shadow manipulation ability; traveling through them, forming matter through them, and expelling physical, very powerful, clouds.

“Clouds?” Natasha had question, flashes of what they might have done to you running through her head.

“It’s unreal, I mean I thought I’ve seen everything,” Stark had stated starting to pace, “she’s not only manipulating dark matter,” he rambled,” it’s like she is physically it, I mean if we can get ahold of her and what she was inject—.”

“ahold of her,” Natasha began to seethe;, after everything you’ve been through, “this is a rescue mission,” she spoke getting closer and closer as Tony backed away, “you’re not getting ahold of anything, you’re not poking and prodding someone, I love, no ones gonna lay a fucking hand on her again.” Natasha backed Tony up into the desk.

“Understood Romanoff,” Tony had said as Bruce pulled Natasha back and Steve entered the room upon hearing Nat.

“Let’s focus on the task Nat, Stark,” Steve mediated, “Last we know of the Shadow things location is in Tokyo; she had taken out a drug lord in a small bar, again with an unknown knife.”

“It’s formed out of dark matter,” Bruce spoke up as Tony went back on the flash drive.

“She forms weapons out of the substance,” the video showed you doing so in the cell.

“How’d they contain her,” Steve questioned with his arms crossed.

“Before the brainwashing——bear tranquilizers.” Tony spoke backing away from Nat.

Bruce cleared his throat, “from what we know now, she’s brainwashed, and—chipped.”

Steve looked back at Nat, “this is going to be very difficult Nat, Hydra—.”

“I know,” Nat answered, “I can handle it.”

Bobbi and Maria entered in Mission attire, “we have a list,” Maria spoke.

“we know where her employers are planning to be, where she is,” Bobbi said looking at Nat.

Steve stood up straight,” go tell Wanda to suit up,” Steve pressed his lips, “you too Nat.”

Walking up to the quinjet, Natasha didn’t know what to think, all she was thinking about, all she was praying for, was for you to come back…remember her.

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