Main Character? YES

Valkyrie doing the old spice ad was all I needed to live and i didn't even know it

louder for the people the back!!!!!!

scarlet johannson did not spend an entire decade fighting tooth and nail to make natasha into an actual character instead of the sex object writers wanted her to be while also having to endure the most vile, misogynistic questions during press tours for people to now disrespect her legacy because yelena is 'better'. the only reason why that is, is because of everything scarlet went through. natasha singlehandedly paved the way for every other female superhero in the mcu and don't you forget that

imm alreadyy invesstedd!!!

broken trust. [part1]

Summary:  you used to be very close, but he broke your heart, now your paths have crossed again

Warnings:  angst, guns, knife, blood, violence, swearing, mentions of sex, alcohol, Ellie appears

 A/N: i wanted to write something for Joel (again, I’m sorry...) and i'll break it up into a few parts. hope everything goes as i planned. something like lovers to enemies to friends to lovers. do you understand any of this, because i don't? i hope my scribbles don't scare you off. thanks for reading and feedback in any form. 🖤

"Fuck!"

You hit the wall with such force that the air left your lungs and for a moment you lost your breath. Your back hurt like hell, but you didn't have time to focus on the pain.

Focus!

You should have been more careful, but the noises from the ground floor of the building distracted you. The man took advantage of this moment, hitting you so hard that you hit the wall, badly bruising your back.

"Get up, you little slut!" he growled, approaching you and kicking you painfully in the stomach.

The gun slipped out of your hand and even though you blindly groped the concrete floor, your fingers couldn't find it.

"I said - GET UP!" he roared, grabbing you by the jacket and lifting you up, then pressing you hard against the wall. "You thought you could catch me by surprise, huh? Stupid bitch!"

His hand tightened around your throat. You tried to push him away, but the man was bigger than you, so all you could do was struggle like a fish caught in a net.

"You should know your place." he hissed, seeing you struggling for breath. "Don't mess with people bigger than you."

"I-I can't d-do that." you whispered with difficulty.

"What? What the fuck did you say?"

But he didn't find out what you said. You pulled your leg up and with your free hand reached for the short knife hidden in your boot.

It had to be fast. 

And accurate. 

You didn't have a second chance.

Focus!

You hit the man's exposed neck, the silver blade smoothly cutting through his skin, piercing into his flesh. The hands clenched around your neck immediately let go of you as he fell to his knees, then to the floor with a dull sound.

You took a few deep breaths. Too much time wasted.

You noticed your gun a few steps away from you and quickly picked it up, heading towards the stairs to find the source of the noise.

The building should have been abandoned, at least that's what it looked like. Broken windows, grass growing on the lower roofs, a few rusty barrels. They had to be some kind of warehouse.

"Don't aim at her, asshole!"

A loud male voice echoed through the empty interior. You quickened your pace, but now you were more careful, more focused. You noticed a slightly ajar door and slipped into the room. 

It must have once been a hall or something. Moving behind the shelves, you headed for the source of the raised voices.

"Tell the kid to put the gun down!" a male, low voice rang out very clearly, you saw the outline of a male silhouette.

"Ellie, do what he says!"

"No!" a girlish, terrified, but also determined voice reached your ears now.

"Put the fucking gun down!"

You heard the sound of a gun falling. You were so close now that you could see the attacker clearly. 

The old leather jacket he was wearing was already pretty worn out on the back. You could see the shoes and legs of the girl who was in front of him, covering someone kneeling on the ground.

"Let us go!" The girl, whose name was Ellie, tried to control the situation. "We won't tell anyone you're here."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" The man aimed a gun at her. "I should kill the old man, have some fun with you, and then, together with my buddies, find the place you came from. That's close, right? Tell me!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up!"

The sound of your voice echoed through the room so suddenly that everyone froze. They looked around nervously, and then a shot rang out. The girl squealed as the man standing right in front of her fell, and a blood stain began to appear on the floor.

She quickly jumped to her gun, trying to find the shooter or where the shot came from. Then she noticed you as you came out from behind the shelf. You still had the gun in one hand, but you raised your arms in surrender.

"Is everything okay with you?" you asked. "Did he hurt you?"

"No, not me, but him..."

You glanced at the man on the floor. He was holding his arm, his fingers covered in blood. You saw dark hair interspersed with gray, wide shoulders, dark eyes that seemed familiar to you.

"It's you?" you whispered in surprise.

Your footsteps echoed down the staircase as you ran up the dusty stairs. First...second...third floor. You ran to the door and opened it with the key.

"Joel?"

You spotted him dozing on the couch with one arm folded above his head, the other lying on his stomach. You smiled at the sight and quickly went inside. He opened his eyes at the sound of the door closing.

"Hi. What kept you?" he asked, sitting up and rubbing his face with his hands.

He didn't even know when he fell asleep waiting for you. It was dark outside and you were already a few hours late. However, he saw that you were safe and sound, and he sighed with relief.

"We're going to celebrate today!" you chirped happily, placing your bag on the table, and something strangely knocked on it.

"Celebrate what?" Joel asked, standing up and stretching.

Two glasses appeared in your hands. He saw your face light up with excitement and a big smile on your lips. God! He loved your smile. In a place like QZ it was his most precious treasure.

You pulled a bottle, of what Joel recognized as whiskey, out of your bag.

"Where the hell did you get that?" he asked as you started pouring the drink "What happened, Y/N?"

"We did it! We did it, Joel!" you repeated and then pushed the glass into his hand "I can't believe it! I talked to Howard, that smuggling guy from the other end of the zone."

Joel choked on his drink.

"Howard? I told you not to go to him alone." he said, frowning.

"Oh, listen to me!" you put your glass down without taking a sip, you were so excited that emotions were pouring out of you in buckets "Howard knows someone who can get us a car. A car that actually works!"

"Bullshit! He doesn't know anyone."

"But I talked to that guy!" you were pacing around the room the whole time. "He wants a lot, but we should be able to handle it. I thought about it the whole way here. This is our chance, Joel!"

He was leaning against the kitchen table and watching you carefully. He didn't know what was worse, the fact that you went to Howard by yourself and met up with another strange guy, your excitement, or the fact that he would have to brutally bring you back down to earth.

This was your dream, and Joel had instilled it in you months ago. He knew that you always wanted to live outside of Boston. Ever since he met you a few years ago, he had seen the part of you that wanted something normal so badly. It irritated him at first, but then, as you started spending more and more time together - you were a really good smuggler - he loved it.

You were his bright spot in this gloomy place, someone he came back to and who was important to him. You filled some empty place in his heart, and that was good. 

So when you had a really bad moment in your life Joel wanted to give you some of that hope too. He started spinning a story that maybe one day you'd find a car and escape from this place. Find a safe haven somewhere else, maybe another settlement, maybe you'd go find Tommy, his brother.

And you totally bought into it. It didn't bother him, until now. Joel knew that those dreams were like houses of cards, they could collapse very easily.

"Are you listening to me?"

Your voice brought him back to reality.

"Y-Yeah, this all sounds...great." he replied uncertainly and took another sip of whiskey. "Are you sure you want this?"

"We both talked about it." You laughed, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around his waist, your warm lips finding his and brushing them gently. "We just have to plan everything, but I'm sure we'll figure it out."

He brushed your hair away and smiled. His heart ached because he already knew how badly he'd screwed it all up.

And even that night when you made love, when you moaned his name as his cock moved inside you, your words kept replaying in his head. Like a broken record. He kissed your lips, caressed your body, and at the same time he wanted to apologize to you for everything he had to do.

"Can you walk?"

You were proud of yourself that your voice didn't shake. Joel nodded. His eyes were wide as he stared at you like he'd seen a ghost.

"That asshole shot him." The girl said.

You gave her a quick look, then walked over to Joel to see his arm. His jacket was bloody, but it didn't look too bad.

"It's a superficial wound. He'll be fine. Just a lot of blood." You stated. "Ellie, yeah?" The girl nodded. "Will you help me?"

You and the girl picked Joel up. You could feel his gaze on you, but you avoided it. 

Focus!

You had to help them get out of here.

"Do you have a car or something?" You asked.

The girl shook her head.

"Great. So you must be from Jackson." You stated. "Come on, I'll take you there. He needs to see a doctor."

"Wait!" Ellie looked at Joel confused. "Can we trust her?"

The man nodded.

"Yeah. We can." He cleared his throat and added "This guy said he had friends with him."

"Yeah, he did. There were four of them."

"You killed them? All of them?" The girl's eyes widened in surprise "What are you? A serial killer or something?"

"Like all of us, right? Come on, it'll be dark soon."

You led them out of the building and through the small parking lot at the end of which your car was parked. You opened the door and pulled out a first aid kit from under the seat.

"I can only give you something to stop the bleeding." You said, looking into the box.

"No need." Joel replied.

"Don't be stubborn. Take this." You pressed the bandage into his hand and threw the first aid kit inside. "Hop in kid, I'll take you home."

The girl happily climbed into the back seat. Miller, however, was still standing by you. It was hard to avoid him, feeling his eyes piercing through your skin.

"How did you find us?" he asked.

"I wasn't looking for you, I was looking for them. For a few days." You replied, looking at him. "I came across them a while ago, they were looking for a place to stay. I think they heard about Jackson or something."

"They didn't seem nice."

Your gaze went to his shoulder. He pressed the bandage, but he seemed to be feeling better.

"And they weren't." You mumbled. "Come on, we're not just going to stand here."

You opened the car door and were already getting in when Joel spoke again.

"Y/N, thanks."

"You're welcome."

[PART 2] …soon…

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

kate bishOoOoOop

i’ll be your 1-up girl

ship: kate bishop/fem!reader

summary/request: kate is really close to hitting 1000 subscribers on twitch, and you’re somehow the star of the show. (au where twitch’s terms of service just lets u straight up have sex on camera)

word count: 865

warnings: smut (18+), pillow humping, edging, exhibitionism, sex acts on camera, mentions of other things (bondage, anal, pet play kind of not really?), stupid nerd jokes

masterlist | ao3 link

Keep reading

loveddd it

your sweater | n. romanoff

natasha romanoff x spider!reader synopsis: for as long as natasha knew you, you had a grey sweater that had slowly become hers. all that she was left to do, was to make its owner hers, too. word count: 8.6k a/n: this can be read as a prequel to is there someone else? but functions perfectly well as a one-shot too! masterlist

For as long as Natasha knew you, you had a grey sweater that had slowly become hers. She first felt it around her shoulders the night you and Clint called off the mission of killing her to rescue her instead; your warmth and scent enveloping her in the most comforting hug she had ever experienced. In the freezing hotel room during the winter of Budapest, Natasha thought you giving up your own sweater for her was the kindest thing anyone could do, the first nice thing anyone ever did for her. 

You were freezing too, as she watched your body shivering sleeping right beside her. But you were still proudly claiming that your suit had inbuilt heaters to keep you warm, one of the many good things about working for SHIELD, you would say. It was your smile, and the already familiar scent of the sweater around her, that slowly lulled Natasha to sleep that night. 

Later on, Clint had grumbled to her that he knew you designed your own suits, and he definitely knew that there was no heating technology whatsoever in them. 

–

The sweater burned on her back as she watched you in flames just days later. You were pinned under a huge slab of concrete, after the escape plan of luring, and subsequently bombing, Dreykov’s offices took a turn. You had gotten injured fighting off a Widow protecting Dreykov, and while your spider-senses still worked to push Natasha far away from the blast, it wasn’t enough to pull yourself away safely in time. 

You struggled under the weight, crying out in pain as flames engulfed you and began burning through your skin. The air was thick and heavy, and Natasha found herself already covering her mouth to bite back through the choking sensation and the tears springing to her eyes. 

She couldn’t do it any longer. It physically hurt to watch you die, and she was never trained to have feelings. Efficiency, ruthlessness, these were ingrained in her from young. Watching people die should become second nature to her. So when Natasha turned around, and began running in the opposite direction to safety, she drowned out your cries with the sweater pulled over her fists to muffle her ears. 

But not even a few seconds later, where she was on the edge of the building and ready to jump, it was as if her own legs betrayed her, her head turning back one last time to look. And there you still were, face red, arms growing tired, and the flames quickly enveloping you away from her. The weight of the sweater burdened her even further. 

Natasha didn’t know which part of humanity left in her persuaded her to run back, and help to lift the slab of concrete off of you. You were choking and wheezing, but managed to squeeze through under the crack that she had managed to lift off of. Natasha’s guilt intensified when you smiled at her, muttering a quick thanks before finding a nearby building to zip the both of you to. 

She knew you knew she almost left without you, but when you were questioned on her loyalty later on in SHIELD, you stood firmly by her side. In your recounting of events, she had never tried betraying you and had the first instinct to save you, instead. 

–

“Why’d you do it?” 

“Do what?”

You were walking her to her newly assigned room, the first night of her new life. It was right beside yours, upon your request, and you were telling her something about connected rooms when she interrupted you. 

“Lie for me, back there. I know you know I tried to leave you there.” Her fingers fidgeted nervously against your sweater she still had on. 

You shrugged, unlocking the door and letting her inside. “If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here. Fury trusts me, and…I trust you.”

The room was spacious, almost too spacious. Almost the size of her entire apartment in Budapest, it strangely felt empty, and cold. Almost sterile. But then you laughed at her stiffness and reluctance, and showed her the door right next to her bathroom; it was a connecting door to your room. 

“See? Connected, like I told you. My side of the door will always be open for you, please come in if you ever need anything. I’ll be here.”

She peeked into your own room, and the warmth and safety of it mirrored the sweater she was donning on at that moment. 

–

Natasha mostly kept to herself in the first week of being at SHIELD, and while you gave her space to figure out the start of everything new in her life, you knew that she was, after all, scared and alone. 

You saved her a seat at breakfast every morning, but Natasha only showed on the first day. The other agents were giving her questionable looks, dirty stares, and the pressure of it all was breathing down her neck. Your kindness shone through, but it felt like it wasn’t enough. 

You would use the gym in the morning, and while you spotted Natasha there on her second day, you also watched as she left abruptly after the other agents began using the space in the later part of the morning. From then on, you instructed them to come just a little bit later, so she would have more time to herself in the gym. She never minded you around, however. 

And when there was a cocktail party being held at the bar nearby, you considered inviting Natasha. But then an old injury of yours flared just hours before the party, and you had resigned to just staying in your room for the night. The other agents had made fun of you, you remembered, as the hushed whispers and muffled laughs became more prominent through the week. 

“Got you wrapped right around her finger, huh?” One of your friends had said, to which you rolled your eyes too. “Who would’ve known, you of all people, with the KGB agent.”

“She’s not KGB anymore,” you corrected, before sending a middle finger their way as they departed for the party. 

–

When the faint chatter from the television became a low hum of a background noise for you, however, you found your eyelids drooping and sleep beginning to take you away. It was nearly midnight, and you presumed Natasha must have gone out on her own as well. You were probably alone in that whole tower.

Still, you heard it. And if you didn’t hear it, your spider senses definitely picked up on it, as another presence was felt in the room. You jolted out of bed at the proximity, and when your eyes opened blearily, there Natasha was; standing over your bed and watching you sleep. 

If it wasn’t so creepy and surprising, you would have treated her with more kindness than a, “Why are you watching me sleep?!”

Natasha looked solemn, as if in deep thought. Your senses were tingling, but no danger was detected, and you slowly lowered the sheets as you sat up to face her. “Natasha? Is everything alright?”

You hadn’t expected her to bring a familiar piece of clothing out from behind her, presenting it to you. Your grey sweater that you had lent her the night you met. 

“What detergent do you use to wash this?” Then, in a quieter, smaller voice, she continued, “I like the smell.”

Natasha quietly followed as you led her to the laundry room, then watched even more intently as you washed the next load of your laundry next to hers, the detergent now a shared commodity between the both of you. You watched her with tenderness as she pored over the machines churning while the both of you waited for your laundry together. 

Though your sweater never really smelled the same, Natasha enjoyed the frequent appointments to do laundry together after that night. 

– 

In your first mission together, Natasha entered into a disagreement with one of the other agents on how things were supposed to be run. The team was ganged up on her, but when you stepped in as mission leader in her favour, the choice was quickly overruled to Natasha’s decision instead.

Later on, Natasha caught wind of one of the agents whispering under her breath, accusing her of trying to seduce you, and when the words of dirty KGB slipped loose from their lips, she quickly stormed out of the common area, the slam of the door an indication to the others that their target recipient had been reached. 

Then, at night, as they walked past her sleeping quarters, one of them saw her wearing your sweater to sleep again, and the laughter that reverberated through the walls haunted her in her sleep. Tears pricked at her eyes as she cried angrily to sleep, the sobs wracking her body as she tried to cry as quietly as she could. She hates herself for being the way she is, hates that she is associated with the KGB still, hates herself for even finding comfort in your damn sweater, the one thing she thought would never be so rudely highlighted to her. 

The next morning, you found the grey sweater stuffed with your belongings. Thrown haphazardly over your own clothes, you already knew who owned it, and was surprised that it was being returned to you. When you caught wind of what happened, however, you chased Natasha down immediately.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you pushed the article of clothing back to her, insisting she hold on to it, “You should keep it.”

“They’re already accusing me of things I would never do to you.” Natasha’s eyes averted your gaze, afraid her voice would waver if she looked at you. 

A hint of a frown appeared on your lips, before you reverted back to the smile, the special smile reserved just for her, and stuffed the sweater back into her arms. “I want you to keep it. I will have a talk with the other agents. You should never be embarrassed about things that make you happy, Nat.”

It was the first time anyone had ever given her a loving nickname.

–

After the incident, Natasha quickly realises that the other agents seemed afraid of her. They no longer talk in hushed whispers about her, no longer tried to steal her spots at breakfast or use her equipment in the gym, no longer tried to sabotage her missions. It was a strange feeling to suddenly be left alone. 

“She got mad at them,” Clint told her one day, when she found another agent yet again scurrying away from an equipment she was intending to use, “They’re scared of her, so now they’re scared of you too.”

Natasha also realises that she has never seen you angry. “What’s she like? When she’s mad?”

Clint scoffed, before shaking his head. “The scariest thing I have ever seen. And I’ve known her for years.”

–

The sweater burned on her back again, this time with her skin on fire, as Natasha watched the team of agents gathering below her. It was after a mission, and while she opted to go ahead and freshen up first, the group began interrogating you on the dependent relationship the both of you have had from the start. 

When someone finally asked the question of whether you had feelings for her, Natasha watched your body freeze for a minute, before relaxing and nodding your head, sheepishly saying yes. 

She didn’t know why, but she suddenly found herself gripping the ends of the railings with a death grip, anger coursing through her veins at your declaration of having a crush on her. 

–

“You should get married.”

Natasha was sitting in Fury’s office then, at her wit’s end on how exactly the KGB kept finding her. It was like she could never truly escape, and the team was running out of ideas on how to keep her hidden safely. 

She gave him an incredulous look, before he held up a hand to let him finish. “Get yourself a green card, become an American citizen. That, combined with your SHIELD involvement, will mean that they can never touch you. Ever again.”

“Who would even want to marry me?” She bitterly laughed, but Fury’s expression never changed. 

“I can think of someone.”

“No. She wouldn’t be as stupid as that. She wouldn’t say yes.” Suddenly, she was very afraid of your answer. Would you say yes? Would you actually agree to marry her? Surely you held yourself in higher regard than that. Surely you knew you deserve better. 

But when Fury brought you in later, and popped the question nonchalantly, you thought about it for a moment, before merely shrugging, and saying, “Sure.”

Natasha found it shocking that you spared no second thoughts, no reservations, no doubts about what marrying her would mean, when you were always so calculated and pragmatic in missions. 

–

You insisted on bringing her dress shopping, a week before your set wedding date. Natasha never dreamt of ever getting the wonderful opportunity to get married. 

So as she stared at the piles and piles of wedding dresses the shop assistant had prompted her to try on, while you waited patiently outside, she found herself almost tearing up. It was all too real, and all too much like a dream too. She couldn’t have even fathomed of a life outside the Red Room just a year ago, and now here she was picking a wedding dress and getting married to perhaps the most wonderful person she knew. 

Rain began to pour when the both of you stepped out of the bridal shop, and Natasha noticed the way you would let her walk on the sidewalks to prevent nearby cars from soaking her as they drove past, noticed the way you tilted the umbrella ever so slightly to shield more of her body from the rain, noticed your arms around her shoulder to keep her close to you. 

You were shivering again, after the both of you found shelter later on. But when Natasha offered to take off the grey sweater she had on to warm up your drenched body, you flat-out refused. 

“You’re going to die from hypothermia,” she bluntly stated, already irritated at your refusal to let her take care of you for once. 

“Nonsense,” you grinned through chattering teeth, “I’ll be fine. Plus, that sweater has always looked better on you than it did on me.”

Natasha’s cheeks reddened at the compliment, and her hands shook slightly as she brought her body closer to yours, hoping some of her body heat could transfer onto you, too. 

–

Natasha remembered her vow as short, and as impersonal as it got, coming from the Internet, but you were still smiling at her like she put the stars in the sky throughout her speech. She knew she didn’t deserve you. 

Your vow highlighted everything you loved about her as a person, and although it was short and sweet, Natasha found herself biting her lip as hard as she could throughout, trying not to make eye contact with you in fear of what would happen to the tears welling up behind her eyes. 

For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. The both of you said ‘I do’s. 

You leaned in to kiss her first, and while Natasha was afraid of what it would feel like to have your lips on hers, you had only pressed them together briefly, respecting her fear and space of having a wedding out of necessity. However, she swore in that brief, fleeting moment, her heart thrummed louder than she thought it was possible in her chest, and sparks flew, somewhere in the back of her mind that she kept safe, the space she reserved for her growing feelings for you. 

After the wedding, Natasha found herself even angrier at the confirmation that she was not only attracted to you, but also falling in love with you. 

–

In the grand, palatial space of the hotel room the two of you shared later on that night, however, it was not the lust-filled, sensual moans that filled the air of the room. Instead, the creaking of the bed and the moans were filled with your agony and Natasha’s anger, as her hands wrapped tightly around your neck, fingers almost blue with how hard she was holding you. 

The breath had been knocked out of your lungs much earlier, and your face was already turning purple as Natasha spat out threats above you. 

“I will never, ever, fall for someone as stupid, and kind, as you. I will never reciprocate your feelings. I will never want to be your wife in any other circumstances. You are to treat me like a colleague, you are not going to treat me any differently than the other agents, and you are not to ever show your feelings for me, ever! Do you understand?” 

You could only see the outline of your sweater draped over the back of the armchair, the life almost leaving your body if Natasha held on a second longer. 

The woman was on the brink of killing you, but all you could zero in on was that damn sweater. It really never leaves her shoulders. 

In the silence of Natasha’s threats, she saw you smile at her, nodding your compliance. 

–

You needed to keep your distance, you knew. You had been perfectly compliant to Natasha’s demands; treating her just as you would your friends, declaring as loud as she did that the marriage was fake and you were both very much not together, even to the extent of agreeing for her to switch her room with Steve’s at the far end of the halls. You tried your best to swallow your pain and frustrations, and as far as Natasha knew, the facade you kept had made it easier for her to ignore her feelings for you too. 

Still, she knew you looked out for her. She felt completely safe in missions together with you, and there was no one else in the team she would trust so wholeheartedly with her life. You made sure she had a voice in SHIELD, made sure she was never outcast or swept aside from any team the both of you shared. Everything, as far as appearances mattered, was fine between the two of you. 

Everything until the battle of New York. 

–

In the Quinjet home, you had already noticed her frustrations. Everyone was exhausted, battered and bruised from perhaps the biggest mission you had ever undertaken in your life, but still you noticed the way Natasha was tapping her foot repeatedly by her seat, fingernails pressing deep into her palm as she tried steadying herself. 

When she briskly brushed past the group to head straight to her room first, Tony had shrugged her off with a wonder what’s up with her? Clint gave you a knowing look, but you assured the group with an instruction to just give her space. When it came to Natasha, you were her best interpreter. 

However, when she failed to show up for dinner even for the following night, your concern had begun to spread from her just being battle-weary to something more. The team watched you pick at your food for all of fifteen minutes, before leaving abruptly to find her. 

“Natasha, is everything alright?” You knew she was behind her door the second your senses tingled of her presence. 

A few beats of silence went by, before she mumbled, “I don’t want to go for dinner.”

You leaned your forehead against the door. “That’s alright. I brought some granola bars from the pantry if you’re hungry.”

Natasha failed to reply this time. You prompted, “Natasha, can I come in?”

“They’ll hate me.”

“They?”

“The team,” her voice sounded muffled now, as if buried between her arms, “They’ll think I’m avoiding them.”

“They don’t, I can assure you that much.” 

“They don’t know me like you do.” You bit the corner of your mouth at the slight affection in her voice, reminding yourself to suppress your feelings to always protect hers. 

Then, she whispered, “The door’s unlocked.”

You found her on the floor upon your entry. She was sitting with her back to the foot of her bed, tear tracks running down her cheek. Your sweater was engulfing her entire frame, and her wet hair framed the red eyes that were glued onto the television, playing a Disney movie on mute. 

Natasha tore her eyes from the screen to look at you, and you gave her the warmest smile you could. That damn smile. She looked away again. 

You sat next to her, shoulders pressing against hers. Natasha wondered how you weren’t disgusted with her, and all of her past that she had shown through your first major battle together. You had watched her kill, interrogate, and torture, in order to get what she needed, and you were still looking at her like she put the stars in the sky. 

“You know, Clint tripped over one of his own arrows at target practice today,” you began, as Natasha reached out for the granola bar you offered, “Fell flat on his face right in front of me and Maria. It was hilarious, an archer with the agility of an elephant.”

The hint of a smile on Natasha’s face was all it took for you to continue, triumphant with your efforts to help get her mind off things. “And Maria laughed so hard that snot came out of her nose. God, it was so embarrassing, she tried to cover her face with my mask when word got around. I lent it to her, of course, with the warning that if she ever tried laughing in it she would have to make me a new one from scratch if snot even got on it.”

Her smile grew wider. Her own shoulders finally relaxing, Natasha fell into her new habit of laying her head on your shoulder, arms slung around yours. You patted the hand that was shaking above yours. 

You knew you were her safe space. Natasha loved the safety and patience no one else was ever willing to give her. And so when your heartbeats synced and Natasha felt the words at the tip of her tongue, she had to ask, “Do you think I’m a monster?”

“A granola monster, maybe.” It wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, as a sharp jab was aimed at your side. You pointed out all the crumbs she was leaving on the floor as you clutched it later on. 

“I’m serious. You’ve seen my case file, you knew who I was before all this, you know of what I’ve done and now, what I can do–”

“–And yet, I still think you are the most honest, kind, and caring person I’ve ever known.” You finished her sentence, leaving Natasha stunned. She studied your face for any sign of a bluff. You stared at her right back. 

And suddenly, her arms were around your neck, her body on top of yours, as the woman pulled you into the tightest, bone-crushing hug you’ve ever had. Speechless, to say the least, you again swallowed the rapid beating in your chest to hug her back, knowing what she needed then. 

“You did well. The mission was a success, and you came home alive. That’s all that matters. You don’t need to be afraid of yourself, or what others would think about you, Natasha. You’re one of us now. And if anyone ever tries to make you feel otherwise, you know you’ll have me. I’m on your side, always.”

That night, Natasha fell in love with the feeling of your arms around her, and unsurprisingly, it replaced the comfort of only having your sweater on her back. 

–

Natasha told you about the Red Room in the months after. She was your best friend now, and you were everything to her. She told you about her family, about Yelena, about how she still felt like an intruder to the Avengers sometimes. You always told her she belonged right from the start. 

She told you about ballet, and when you asked if she could teach you, the tears that welled in her eyes hadn’t been one from her being touched. You knew immediately and shot down the idea. That night, she told you that it was one of the worst things about being in the Red Room. She fell asleep crying in your arms at the memories it triggered. 

She was an insomniac, and you quickly learned that she preferred your balcony’s views over hers. Not that the view was better, but the glow from your room surrounded her in the warmth you always handled her with. She told you it was because yours was quieter. She liked her quiet time, but she liked it better when you sat beside her in those times. You noticed she wanted you around almost everywhere now. 

You knew everyone else did too, and if you allowed yourself hope, you would listen to their endless teasing of how much Natasha had fallen for you, too. 

–

Natasha was waiting for you after your solo mission to Greece, where Clint had told her was too dangerous for anyone below your clearance to even attempt. She had argued with Fury on sending you out there alone, but he reasoned back that sending two people would raise too much suspicion. She couldn’t argue with the logic, and was stuck with just the agony of waiting for your return. 

She bolted back from training the moment she heard you were coming back, waiting by the Quinjet landing zone for your jet. She ignored the looks from the other agents at her enthusiasm, waiting for the other Avengers to join her too. 

Steve came shortly after, but she was already pacing around and wondering why you were almost an hour late. He gave her a knowing look, she pleaded with him to not mention anything. She couldn’t say it into words, but she was thankful he understood. 

“Romanoff, she’s already in the building. The jet got destroyed on her way home.” Fury came only half an hour later, sparing her of her anxiousness at your lateness. 

“D-Destroyed?”

Fury nodded. “She told me it was hard coming home, but she’s here now. Saw her clearance card tapped into our systems, must be in here somewhere.”

Natasha knew where you were. You hated the medical wing of the building, and there was only one place you would return to after exhausting missions. Steve hugged her shoulder reassuringly, and left her to find you alone.

–

Your senses were still overloaded and shocking you all over from the hypersensitivity and trauma from the mission, so when your door unlocked with Natasha’s clearance, your brain failed to register she wasn’t a threat, and a web was immediately shot to glue her hand to your door. 

She flinched, but when you turned and saw it was her, you knew she was as surprised as you were to see each other. You, because you weren’t expecting anyone to come find you so quickly after a mission, and her, because of the bandage rolls you were wrapping around yourself, and the cuts and bruises that littered your body. 

You were bare, and vulnerable, and exactly two breaths were exchanged in the time it took for Natasha to register her shock, and you to formulate your response. “To be fair, I thought I would have more time to look more…uninjured.”

The lithe muscles under the purple marks, the way your abs flexed as you turned to face her, the cut across your cheek that only highlighted your cheekbones even more to her. The beads of perspiration across your skin. Natasha’s face immediately grew red hot, and you were even more confused. 

“Y-You…”

“Natasha, it’s really not as bad as it looks,” you tried to smile, but the cut on your upper lip stung when you stretched it too far. 

She still stared at you. You suddenly felt tiny, unsure of yourself under her scrutiny. Has she never seen a naked body before? 

“I should–” You were cut off with her suddenly rushing forward, and instinctively, you reached your arms out to hold her. But Natasha fell into them naturally. It was her lips pressing against yours that you couldn’t prepare for. 

When Natasha kissed you, it wasn’t soft, or sweet, or gentle in the slightest. You were in the bedroom, and not the church, you knew, but when her teeth clashed against yours and you stumbled to fall back into the bed with how hard she chased your lips, you knew there was something else that she could never put into words. 

“Natasha–” You tried to reason, tried to ask if she was sure of what she was doing, but she simply shook her head, hand on your chest to silence you. 

“Do you want this?” She asked, biting the bottom of your lip. 

“I…”

“Do you want this?” She asked again. Her hands were travelling lower and lower, careful to avoid your biggest bruises. Your body reacted quicker than your brain could when she began to touch the wetness that had embarrassingly resulted from your kiss. 

“Yes.” 

“Me too,” she said, your sweater being thrown off her shoulders in the seconds after. Natasha cupped her hand over your mouth when you tried to ask her what she was doing, pinning you down on the bed and carving her name into your bones as you screamed it over and over throughout the night. 

–

Of course, the morning after, you caught her gathering her clothes at the edge of the room, and when she felt herself being watched, she had to turn around.

“This…last night…was meaningless,” she put on a brave front, though she didn’t know if she was convincing more of herself or you, “We’re still just…friends. Nothing more.”

You put on an even braver front, knowing the way she was. Your smile seemed to convince her, as you nodded briefly and told her you understood. 

Natasha noticed you didn’t say goodbye when she left, simply burying your head under the covers again. 

–

It became a routine; her coming to your room on late nights, and beyond the feeling of your arms around her, Natasha craved more and more. You were like an addiction, a vice she could never let go of. Celebrations, tragedies, the good, the bad, Natasha spent the night at your bed when anything happened, your cries of pleasure her dopamine for the night and her leaving your room the next morning your heartbreak for the day. 

It went on for months, and still, you couldn’t say anything. Natasha needed you, and who were you to deny her? 

You smiled at her each morning before she left, took care to conceal the hickeys she left on your skin, and always emphasised aftercare for her after your most intense sessions. In those moments, where the bath water had cooled and it was your hands rubbing the soft loofah all over her, her body fell back on yours, head on your shoulder again. She would look up occasionally to you, and the colour of your eyes would be all that was seared into her head for the rest of the night. 

You were so undeniably attractive, and kind, and perfect, and everything she didn’t deserve. She knew you would do anything for her, wait until the end of time until she was ready to tell you your feelings were reciprocated. It would be unfair to keep playing with your feelings, and entertaining hers, for so long. Natasha needed to put you out of your misery.

But no matter what, she could never fathom the idea of someone like her ever being together with someone like you. She was so hard to love, but you loved her like it was breathing. It was terribly unfair. 

She remembers so many times she has hurt your feelings from her own cowardice; but one particular event stood out. 

It had been Maria’s birthday party, where a deeply intoxicated Tony had spotted the two of you huddled in the far end of the lounge sofa, quietly in your own world of conversation. 

He had no one left to disturb, and upon intrusion into your personal space and drawing the eyes of everyone around, he had brazenly asked if the two of you planned on ever getting together, or if you were just going to force everyone to tolerate the sexual and romantic tension between the both of you for the rest of your lives. 

You had immediately looked away, of course, cheeks reddened and the grip on your drink tightening. Hoping to ignore Tony and praying that he would just go away quietly after his teasing, you didn’t expect Natasha to scoff instead. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s disgusting.” 

She was drunk too, evident from her slurring and constant invitations for the both of you to carry on the party in your bed instead, but the finality and pure disgust in her voice had you second-guessing your own senses. 

A roar of disapproval rampaged through the crowd, and upon their laughter and jeers, Natasha snuck a quick glance to see if your beautiful smile was stretched into a chuckle too. But your eyes were still averted, and only a hint of a sad smile appeared on your face. 

She didn’t know why her heart sank to her stomach at the sight of you refusing to make eye contact with her. 

—

When it became apparent that Bruce was interested in her too, Natasha made the irrational decision to not only tolerate his advances, but also entertain the idea of them being together instead. 

Perhaps it had been insecurity, or a curiosity for the scientist itself, but the Widow knew the real reason was that she needed to get her mind off of anyone but you. She knew whatever she had with you, she would never have with him, but still she chose him. 

The grey sweater of yours sat heavy in her overnight bag as she tells you of her decision to room with him in Clint’s barn. She feels hesitant to take it off when he tries to rip it from her the night they sleep together. She feels dirty in the morning after. She feels even worse when Tony teases her about the thin walls of the house at breakfast. 

She almost loses it when you come in to defend her, before asking if she slept well afterwards. She didn’t have the heart to tell you she clutched your sweater to sleep through her nightmares after Bruce had fallen into a deep slumber. 

— 

In the Quinjet home, she overhears Clint pulling you aside and telling you to just move on. She hadn’t meant to hear it; it was obviously a private moment between you and the archer where the other members were supposed to be asleep, but Natasha had wanted to seek your comfort and arms to brave through her nightmares. She immediately realises it would be incredibly unfair for you if she had. 

“She has him now. She’ll never pick you, you must know that.”

She heard you sighing loudly, and the softest, slightest sniffle after. Natasha found herself hugging your sweater tightly around herself. 

—

But one night, one awfully faithful, terrible night, Natasha sees you with Maria, and all hell breaks loose. 

She was getting a drink, and some peace and quiet in the kitchen to supplant the peace your balcony offered. 

But you were there, and as Natasha recognised the smell of your perfume from the entrance, she was already preparing to throw herself into your arms and profess the tiring day she had, when she rudely interrupted her own daydreams. 

Your back facing her, you were trapped between Maria’s arms pressing you against the counter. Your hand holding her jaw, her lips were feverishly chasing yours as her moans filled the air. It was the exact same position Natasha would so often find herself with you on your rendezvous all those months ago. 

It was her jaw you used to hold. Her moans you would hear. Her arms the ones holding you. Not Maria, not anyone else. 

The sheer dread and betrayal that washed through her had Natasha retreating out of the room immediately, but not before knocking over a stray chair she failed to register. It crashed as it fell, prompting you to break the kiss immediately. 

When your eyes found hers, Natasha felt the need to retch. 

“Natasha, wait!” 

You had freed yourself from Maria, but Natasha was already halfway across the hall, running back to her room. 

That night, for reasons only known to herself, Natasha digs through her closet again, throwing everything that Bruce has ever left in her space to one side of the room. 

She finds the grey sweater she has abandoned since getting together with him, and for the first time since the night she slept with him, she clutches it to her chest and cries herself to sleep with it. 

—

You brought Maria to the wedding of one of the other agents. Natasha sat pretty in Bruce’s arms throughout, never finding the strength to end things with him, but never letting her eyes wander anywhere apart from you. 

She watched Maria hold on to your every word while her hands wrapped themselves around your arm, just like she had. She watched from two rows behind, Maria leaning her head on your shoulder as the bride and groom exchanged their vows. She watched her own hands gripping the wooden bench so tightly she thought it might break from her strength. 

You slow-danced with Maria, and her with Bruce. Maria leaned in to whisper something in your ear that Natasha tried desperately to read from her lips, while Bruce’s arms tried to entrap her to him. His touch always felt foreign; your hands had always been more nimble and gentle with her. You held on to Maria’s waist the way you used to hold hers in bed, and Natasha fought the urge to rip her own hands off of you as they roamed your figure. 

When you finally leaned in and captured Maria’s lips against yours, Natasha pushed herself off of Bruce immediately and headed straight out of the church to cry. 

That night, while you whispered words of prayer and worship upon Maria’s skin, Natasha was screaming at Bruce to get out of her room and breaking up with him. 

–

In the moments that followed, the moments of pure silence, and realisation of what she had done, Natasha felt horrible. Bruce didn’t deserve the ending she left him with, and she was sure she had woken up Steve in the next room because of her meltdown. She once again screwed things up, once again isolated herself as the outlier of the team. 

Natasha banged on your door in the moments after, her knuckles rapping on the wooden door and jolting Maria awake. She in turn shook you awake, and in the moments you took to dress yourself, the raps had gotten heavier, more alarming. 

Natasha practically threw herself onto you the moment your door opened, sobbing into your chest hysterically. You spared one look at her, then Maria in the bed behind, and it was all it took for the other agent to know who took priority in your heart.

You gave her an apologetic smile, promising to make it up to her, while Maria nodded numbly. She gathered her own clothes, held your shoulder briefly, before leaving the room to you and Natasha. You muttered a sorry, she only shrugged and left. You felt Natasha hold on to you tighter in the moments you took to speak to Maria. 

Natasha only calmed down when you quietly shushed her cries with assurances, your hands carding through her hair and holding her just like how you used to. Your heartbeat was slow, steady against her ears, the source of her safety and home. 

Clutching a cup of tea that you made for her, Natasha welcomed you sitting beside her against your bed frame this time, your shoulders still touching. You didn’t speak, or pressure her to speak, and instead only switched on the television, flipping through the cartoons on mute to let her relax. 

The comfortable silence lingered while Natasha sipped on her tea, the occasional sniffle still escaping her, while her eyes glued itself to the network on the screen in front of her. You joined her in watching the cartoons, propping a pillow against your back when it started to hurt. 

Finally, Natasha broke the silence with, “You must think I’m insane.”

“I cannot think of you apart from love.”

The breath caught in Natasha’s throat. Your words were warm like the sun. 

She put the mug down, and cleared her throat. “I broke up with Bruce.”

“Oh.”

Your eyes were still glued to the screen, any evidence of surprise or shock devoid from your face. Natasha didn’t know to be thankful or offended that you didn’t ask the reasons why. “He wasn’t a bad person, I was just…not the one…for him.”

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling comfortingly at her as you put your arm around her shoulder and brought her close, “It takes a long of wrongs to find the right one.” 

“What if the right one never comes for me?”

“Then I’ll be here, for you, always. There’s no rush, or pressure, Nat,” you affirmed, even though your throat was closing up at the topic Natasha had chosen for the night. 

“But what if I left Bruce for that right one?” She held the ends of your T-shirt, a new urgency in her voice, “What if I’ve found that right one, but I don’t…deserve…someone like them?”

You only pressed a kiss to her hairline, shaking your head. “What nonsense. How terribly lucky that person would be, to be loved by someone like you. It is probably the greatest privilege of anyone’s life to be with you, Natasha.”

You wiped the small frown off her face with the edge of your thumb, holding her face just like how you had so many nights before. She felt like she was going to burst with all the love she had for you. And then you smiled, and laughed about the tear tracks left behind in the wake of makeup on her face, and Natasha hit you lovingly with all that she could not say to you that night.

When she had fallen asleep in your arms and left you staring at the ceiling later, you wondered if the horrifying ache in your heart at the fact that she was so irrevocably in love with someone else to feel that she didn’t deserve them, was going to be the cause of your death. 

–

Your relationship with Maria eventually fizzled out, moreso with her realising her place in your list of priorities and you not wishing to lead her on for something you knew was not going to end well. You both remained friends, and it was her that you eventually confided in with how much your longing for Natasha never seemed to ever lessen in intensity, or fizzle in fervour. 

She was the one who placed you and her in your first mission together after the both of you had returned to being single. It was supposed to be a simple one, for the both of you to bond and get back the ‘friendship’ that had been slightly altered from Natasha’s jealousy and your pain, but it was difficult, to say the least.

You had gotten captured helping her escape, and with a firm demand for her to return with the hostages first, Natasha was left with no choice but to leave you behind. Fury had screamed into her comms that she had to complete the mission first, before coming back to rescue you, but all through the flight home, the tears that had flown freely down her cheeks served only as reminder that it was her mistake, her incompetence, that resulted in you being at the mercy of the enemy now. 

She was denied the opportunity to rescue you. Fury didn’t trust that she would be able to keep her cool, and Natasha’s protests and attempts to sneak herself on the team only resulted in her being allowed to watch the body cam footage of the team being tasked to rescue you instead.

 She was only subjected to a clear view of them torturing you, hitting you with electrically-charged weapons and demanding for her location. You had screamed, cried, and passed out several times, your suit was torn and your skin underneath burnt and raw, but still you refused to give up her location. 

Natasha could only hold your sweater tightly against herself, the sleeves soaked with her tears as she watched and waited for an opportunity to rescue you. Clint held her hand in support beside her, and when Natasha made eye contact with Maria across the room, the other agent finally understood why it was her that was being used to extract information out of you.

Maria was the first to hug her in encouragement when they rescued your unconscious, but still breathing body, whispering to her ear, “She only ever looked at you, anyway.”

–

Natasha hated herself for hurting you. She hated that she was the one whose mistake landed you in such a critical condition. She hated the agitated screams and shouts from the medical wing doctors as they tried to stop you from dying. She hated that she always ruined everything she touched, hurt everyone she loved. 

But when you woke up and she cried into the crook of your neck about how sorry, and guilty she was, you still reassured her that it was never her fault. She apologised for breaking you and Maria apart, you were still kind to tell her it was never going to work. She apologised for being a horrible person to be around, you told her everyone made mistakes, and as long as you didn’t die, it was still a mistake she could learn from. 

–

You helped Natasha build back her confidence from her mistake in that mission. She orbited her life around yours now, hanging on to your every word, cherishing every moment with you as if she would never see you again. 

Everyone began comparing the two of you to an old married couple now. You always protected her and defended her for only acting the way she was around you. 

“Ignore them,” you would say after each accusation, each tease. You taught her to be confident in her skin and her skills, enough so that nobody else’s words would matter. Apart from yours.

But Natasha doesn’t want to ignore them, not anymore. 

–

The Avenger catches herself falling for you more and more. 

The way you lend her your mask after missions to help her focus and bring her back to earth. 

The way you yell at the team to save her the last slice of pizza when she finds it embarrassing to do so. 

The way you offer her your entire wardrobe to steal from when the team pranks and steals your sweater away from her for April Fool’s. The way you get it back for her right after.

The way you tend to her wounds before your own. 

The way you teach her to accept, and love herself; you constantly tell her she is more than what the KGB trained her for. The way you make her feel good about herself and the world she’s in when you’re around. 

Natasha is afraid of the day someone else captures your heart before she has the courage to tell you she loves you. 

–

She was attending a guest lecture of yours at a university. Words of quantum mechanics and astrophysics flew by her head as she sat in the back row of the lecture hall, busy admiring the blouse that was folded up to your sleeves, and the poise and dignity you held in your stance. It was not surprising that the other students also broke in hushed whispers about your looks throughout the class. 

When you finished, and sent a smile up her way to signal the time for lunch together, Natasha found her own smile mirroring yours. 

Natasha waited by the door while the class’ professor took a few moments to speak and pick apart your brain. A little older than she was, the agent did not deny the obvious attractiveness to the woman; but when she began noticing the subtle glances she was sneaking to your lips, or the light touches she made to your elbow, she knew it was not irrational to want to strangle the woman for even being in your proximity. 

She cannot risk losing you again. She cannot hear your laughter and jokes directed at someone else. She cannot watch you go with someone else while she stands by the sidelines anymore. 

“Excuse me,” she interrupted, “I’m sorry for my interruption, but my wife and I have a lunch to attend to.” 

Natasha pulled your elbow away before either of you had so much time to process, or even reply to her interruption, dragging you through the halls and out into the courtyard of the building. It was now or never. She was sure you knew. 

“Wife?” you asked, a little out of breath, a little in disbelief. 

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, wife.”

“You don’t…you…you called me…?” You were clearly at a loss for words. Natasha found it adorable, the hopeful, puzzled expression on your face. 

“She was hitting on you.”

“I know, but I wasn’t…I wasn’t going to…”

“I don’t want anyone else to hit on you,” Natasha came closer, her arms found themselves on your waist, “Anyone else but me.”

Her hands cradled your face. “I love you. I have loved you from the start. I look at you, and I just love you, and it terrifies me. It terrifies me what I would do for you. You are my right one; right from the start. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you that.”

You were speechless, and Natasha giggled as she helped close your mouth at her declaration. “Thank you, for loving me. For seeing the best and worst parts of me and still loving me through it all, for waiting so long for me to have the courage to love you back. You don’t know how much you mean to me. And I’m quite sure I have loved you the same too, it makes me a bit pathetic to love you so much.”

“You would never be pathetic to me.”

“I know,” she laughed again. Natasha always found joy easier to come by when she’s with you. 

She smiled sadly then. “I’m sorry I was so hard to love.”

“I can love you like it’s breathing. I just can’t help it.” You couldn’t believe what was happening. 

Your arms felt warm like the sun. Natasha felt easier to breathe around you. You were everything she needed to heal. 

“Well, what do you say we start the rest of our lives together from here on? As wives?” 

“I’d say that I made the perfect decision marrying you.” 

Natasha knew wearing your grey sweater with her that day was a good decision.

Saving this for later purposes

you don't have to take this req if you don't want to, but poly!wolfstar where the reader goes on a bratty streak. just breaking all the rules bc fuck the rules. and sirius who is always defending the reader pleads with remus not to punish you for your behavior, but then one day while sirius isn't around you break a rule and remus just snaps. and he punishes you (maybe edges you, feel free to take creative liberty) until you are a sobbing mess with cum running down your thighs. and sirius comes in towards the end of the punishment and licks the tears off of her face and the cum off of her thighs, and just generally soothes her.

kinda like good cop bad cop but with doms.

i love you i hope you are having a good day <3

im so excited 😈😈

Remus Lupin x Sirius Black x Fem!Reader. Heavy d/s dynamic, bimbofication, smoking, brat taming, edging, threesome/polyamory, punishment, daddy kink, light dd/lg, clit slapping

follow my library account @pinkandbluelibrary and turn on notifs to be notified whenever i post a blurb!

word count: 2.1k

“The fuck did I say about you smokin’? Huh?” Remus snatches the unlit cigarette from between your lips, pulling a whimper out along with it.

“Sirius does it.” The male only meets your plaintive whine with a roll of his eyes.

“Pads is an idiot, Y/n. And you’re too little to smoke, you know that” Remus reprimands as he tosses the tube to Sirius, who’s lounging on the couch of the empty common room. You let out a huff, flopping onto the couch beside the raven haired male as he sticks the smoke between his lips and pulls out a lighter.

“What’re you sitting down for, sweetheart?” Remus scoffs as he sits in a nearby armchair, a large hand patting his lap. “You know what happens when you break a rule-“

“Lay off ‘er, Moons.” Sirius mutters around the cigarette, pocketing the lighter before wrapping a slender arm around you. “She’s a good girl, yeah? ‘S not her fault ‘m a bad influence.”

“She knows better, Pads, you can’t just-“

“You think she knows better? You seen her? She’s a dumb little puppy, she can’t help it.” His hand comes up to your head, fingertips rubbing at your scalp, and you nod at the lycanthrope, offering him your most innocent look. Remus lets out an incredulous scoff, eyes moving in another irritated rotation.

“You’re such a fucking pushover.” He mutters, but to your joy he doesn’t push any farther- he simply settles back into the chair, reaching into his bag to retrieve the book he’s been reading.

You grin, and Sirius gives your head a pat. As you gaze up at him he takes the cigarette between two fingers, exhaling a plume of smoke as he speaks.

“You’re welcome, pup.” He murmurs before blowing the last dregs of smoke into your face. You scrunch up your nose and let out a giggle that makes him grin, grateful to be safe from the pain of one of Remus’s brutal spankings.

The rest of the evening comes and goes as normal, as does the following morning- though you give Remus a bit more sass than normal, feeling less afraid to push his buttons and bend the rules knowing that you have Sirius in your corner, ready to defend you and talk you out of a punishment.

So by the time dinner is over, and you’re hanging out in the boys’ dormitory, Remus is on his final straw. And you make the mistake of plucking it from his grasp when Sirius is out- off making some kind of mischief with James- and you’re alone to face the consequences.

“Hands off. Now.” Remus’s voice is a dangerous growl, prompting your heart to race as you slowly pull your hands out of your panties and sweatpants, away from your pulsing clit. He stands from his desk and you sit up, eyeing you predatorily as he stalks towards you.

“I told you I’d take care of you after I finished my paper- are you that fucking impatient?”

“S-Siri says I’m cute when I’m desperate-“ you try to reason, but you can tell instantly by the blazing fire in his eyes that your words only make the male angrier.

“I don’t give a fuck what Siri says! Have you forgotten who’s in charge?” He’s standing right before the bed now, and he reaches out with one hand to grasp your face, strong fingers squeezing your cheeks and making your lips jut out in an exaggerated pout. You shake your head as vigorously as you can manage to within his grip, eyes wide and anxiety growing.

“Tell me, then. Who’s in charge?”

“You, Rem-“ his hand releases your face only to land a smack against your cheek, making you gasp.

“Try again.”

“You, daddy” you whimper the correction as stinging pain blooms on your skin from the impact.

“That’s better.” He mutters, hands moving to his hips as he gazes down at you almost disdainfully. “Now what am I going to do with you…”

“You don’t have to do anything daddy, I’ll be good-“ you’re cut off by Remus’s scoff.

“You think I’m gonna buy that? After your recent bratty streak? After you touched yourself without permission? I’ve been goin’ way too easy on you, doll.” Your heart drops, and you silently curse your decision to be so testy with Remus.

“Alright, get your pants and underwear off and then lie back down.” Remus instructs, and you rise to your feet to do so.

“L-lie down on my stomach, daddy?” You ask as your bottoms pool around your ankles and you step out of them.

“On your back.” He responds, ruling out a spanking as his mode of punishment. You swallow, knowing that means you’re either in for a night of painful pleasure and countless orgasms, or a night of agonizing denial. Or both, you realize fearfully, and you pray that that isn’t the case.

“Now, Y/n.” Remus’s snippy words snap you out of your thoughts, and you hastily move onto the mattress, your warm back against the cool sheets with your thighs pressed together protectively.

“Don’t be stupid, bunny, open your legs” Remus grumbles impatiently, reaching out to grasp your calves and pull your legs apart. Arousal floods your belly at his rough manhandling.

“You wanted to cum, baby?” Remus coos tauntingly, calloused thumb moving to rub circles on your sensitive clit, making you gasp

“Yes, daddy. Please.” You whine, and Remus hums thoughtfully.

“I guess you should have thought about that before you acted like such a spoiled brat.”

“Remus-“ a sharp slap lands on your clit, cutting your whine off with a yelp. “Sorry! Daddy, I wanna cum. Please, please-“ your hips are lifting off the mattress as he rubs you, your pleasure climbing towards that blissful peak you crave.

“And I told you that you’re not gonna.” With that his thumb is gone, tearing a plaintive whine from your lips as your hips rut upwards in search of friction that isn’t there.

“Daddy” you whimper pathetically, frustrated tears already gathering in your eyes at having been denied release.

“Shut up, I hate it when you whine.” He growls “Just take your punishment like a good girl, yeah? You’ve gotta show me you can be a good girl, cause I’m starting to doubt it.”

“I can be a good girl!” You immediately chirrup, fingers curling in the sheets below as Remus’s thumb returns to your clit, ready to work you up to the edge once again.

“Prove it.”

Remus goes on like this for what feels like ages to you, bringing you so near to orgasm that your body tenses and the beginnings of a moan spill from your slackened lips, then stopping all stimulation and leaving you completely unsatisfied. He turns you into a sweaty, trembling, needy mess- your cheeks wet with tears, your cunt pulsing achingly, your thighs slick with moisture, your speech reduced to meaningless babble- and he beats you down until all thoughts of brattiness are lost on you, and all that consumes your mind is a desire to be good for daddy.

Just when Remus is removing his thumb from you for what you’re sure must be the hundredth time, leaving you sobbing and bucking wildly beneath the strong arm he’s laid across your lower belly, Sirius enters the room.

“Merlin, what’s going on here?” He inquires, surprise and arousal evident in his tone.

“‘M finally giving your ‘dumb little puppy’ the punishment she deserves.” Remus seethes, voice void of any mercy. The click of Sirius’s tongue is barely audible to your cotton stuffed ears, and your head lolls to the side so you can take in his approaching form through tear-clouded vision.

“Fuckin’ hell, Moons, what’d you do to the poor thing? She looks a right mess.” Sirius murmurs, reaching out to stroke fingers over your hair, cooing when you crane your tilt to chase his touch.

“Been edgin’ her- it’s hardly been twenty minutes, she’s just bein’ fucking dramatic” Remus’s long fingers tap at your sensitive clit, making you gasp and arch on the mattress, and Sirius crouches down beside your head, more soothing coos falling from his lips as he pets you.

“Ease up on her, mate. I think she’s done.” Sirius intones, sympathetic grey eyes meeting yours. You let out a whimper and reach out for his free hand, desperate for the respite he offers, but Remus only lets out a dark chuckle.

“She can take one more, Pads. Then I reckon she’ll have learnt her lesson.”

“Moons-“

“Do you remember what a fucking brat she’s been all damn week?” Remus cuts him off, voice short. Sirius looks at you, taking in your glassy eyes and wet cheeks, watching your dazed expression as you play idly with the fingers of the hand you’d grappled for.

“Fine.” He concedes, letting out a sigh. “One more.” You let out a soft whimper at this as the raven haired male maneuvers so he’s sitting on the bed, one leg bent under his butt, with your head in his lap.

“Alright, angel.” That agonizing touch is back in your clit, nerves alight and hyperactive thanks to Remus’s ruthless teasing. “Let’s get you there again, c’mon.”

“Daddy” the word comes out a sob, your head thrashing against Sirius’s lap, and he reaches out to cup your face, shushing softly.

“I know love” Remus’s voice is a mocking coo “You wanna cum so bad, huh?”

“Please” your cries are turning to hiccups, the cruel taunting coupled with the firm rub of his thumb making your cloudy head spin.

Sirius leans down, bringing his lips to your cheeks and peppering kisses along the tracks of tears there, his soft tongue poking out to clean your skin of the salty fluid.

“You’re alright, puppy” comes the murmured comfort between kisses, the words a low and gentle rumble. “You can do it, my good girl.”

The sound of his voice and the tender contact of his lips, a stark contrast to Remus’s unrelenting attention to your clit, keeps you grounded as your heightening pleasure threatens to send you flying.

“Please” the word leaves your lips again, having become the only syllable you’re capable of uttering. You’re so close, so unbearably close, but what’s more unbearable still is the knowledge that it’s as close as you’re going to get.

Your choked gasp confirms this as Remus pulls his thumb away from your throbbing nub quickly, his large hands gripping your calves to keep your thrashing legs at bay. Sirius’s arms snake around your middle to combat your arching back. 

“Shhh, easy, easy. You’re all done, puppy, you did it.” Sirius’s voice drowns out your slew of pathetic whimpers. Below you, Remus wipes any residual moisture from his hand onto your thigh, finally letting go of your trembling legs. He looks at your quivering lower lip and wide, wet eyes, and for the first time this evening some sympathy crosses his features.

“Yes, angel, you’re done.” He murmurs, giving you a smile far gentler than the taunting grins prior. Sirius presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Lemme get you all cleaned up, pretty girl.” He murmurs, gently moving your head off his lap so he can stand and make his way between your legs. “Then you can go to the bathroom and get to sleep.”

“Kay daddy.” You agree blearily, glassed over optics following Sirius’s form as he settles down, head at the apex of your thighs.

“He’s not daddy-“

“Let it go, Moons. You’ve fucked her too dumb, she can’t think straight.” Sirius cuts off his correction, giving him a quick side eye.

Then he’s leaning down, and his soft tongue is back against your skin to lick up the sweet tasting slick that has gathered on your folds and inner thighs over the course of the evening. Soft whimpers and gasps leave your lips at the stimulation, despite the male’s attempts to avoid your most sensitive areas.

While Sirius laps at you your gaze shifts to Remus as he strips out of his sweater and pants, and the prominent bulge in his trousers catches your attention.

“Lemme help, daddy” you whimper out, weakly moving up onto your elbows as your foggy mindset urges you to please your dominant. “Gotta make you feel good.” The smile that graces his lips has finally returned to its usual tenderness.

“It’s okay, baby. Sirius and I will take care of one another once we get you all settled in.” His words are meant to reassure you, but they only bring another distressed whine from your lips.

“Gotta be a good girl-“

“You are a good girl, doll. You took your punishment so well, daddy’s not angry with you anymore.” His large hand reaches out to stroke along your cheek, his touch the softest you’ve felt since this all began. You offer him a wobbly nod, dopey smile forming on your lips.

“Atta girl. Now go on to the toilet with Pads, he’ll get you all cleaned up.”

tags (this is the last time my taglist will be used! Go follow my library account and turn on notifs, linked above): @snapesdaughsjm @kyleed24 @woman-with-no-name @randomoutsiders @spxllcxstxr @frecklesandfirecrackers @fific7 @sunrisefairy @pandaxnienke @weasleyposts @mypainistemporary @st0nesnglitter @quindolyn @arcaneslut @hoes4dameron @wh0reforthemarauders @shadesofvelma @i-love-scott-mccall @maybanksslut @crystal-dee @sprucewoodlover @slvt4fakerealities @hellounicorn @daisyyy2516 @gxtitobxby @bunnyweasley23 @just-a-human-witha-pen @emmaev @padfootswife @lillsthoughts @katmoonz @abbott27 @elizabethrosedarling @lilypad-55449 @wh0reforthemarauders @riddikulusweasleys @ashesandstars @lexlupin-black @saintlike78 @pretty-pop-princess-hs @emma67 @multixfandomwriter  @pottahishotasf @maraudersandco @remusjlupinisdead @fandom-puff @professional-busboy

idk where all these photos are from or the context of them but my jaw dropped straight to the floor. she's not real she can't be real.

i crave her so bad i need a moment to cry my eyes out bc she's not mine.

Sweet Child of Mine

Summary: As Loki tries to take over Earth, Thor is forced to come back and stop his brother. But there’s someone that wants to help too. What will happen when Natasha meets the beautiful heiress of the Asgardian throne?

Natasha Romanoff x Asgardian!Reader 

A/N: Canon divergence from the first Avengers film. Fluff, action, gay panic.

This was a request made by the amazing @jujuu23, and I really hope it is something you enjoy! I hope you have a wonderful day!!! 

“Barton’s been compromised” 

Coulson’s words echoed in Natasha’s head. It was hard for her to believe it still. Clint would never put himself in a position of danger, not when he had so much to lose.

And yet, she was seeing it with her own eyes. Fury had called everyone he could find; Tony, Steve and Thor were ready to attack. 

Keep reading

i love the concept of past lovers!sirius x reader godmother! reader and the just reunited an fluff and all

Reunited - Sirius Black x Reader

Summary/(A/N): After 14 years, Harry’s Godmother is finally reunited with her husband. I made this sort of specific to whatever my own mind came up with; (Y/N) is Harry’s Godmother, and has of course known the Marauders since their school days. She’s known Harry since the events of POA, and she took him in. Harry and (Y/N) have lived together for the past two years, and although Harry has met and seen Sirius, the most that (Y/N) has received is letters. Finally, in OOTP, they’re reunited. 

Warnings: None really, maybe a lil’ kissing scene <3 

Keep reading

badass reader...i like it

Taming Cowardly Lions | Riddle!Reader

Summary: Riddle!Reader hears people talking bad about Luna.

Warning: 'Mudblood'

Requested: No

Leaning on the huge desk in the front of the potions classroom Y/N riddle twirled their wand round their ringers waiting for professor Snape to arrive, They along with their fellow Slytherin were getting a little agitated with the mans tardiness more so since they were sharing a class with Gryffindor.

"Did you see the magazine she's carrying around?" One of the rowdy Gryffindors asked. "The Quibbler, she calls it." He announced causing his fellow house member to laugh as well as some Slytherin

"I mean where does she come up with this stuff? Nargles and Thestrals, of course their invisible." Ron Weasley piped up causing Y/N to roll their eyes.

"I guess they they call her Loony Lovegood for a reason." Granger shrugged 'shyly'.

"You are all so pathetic." Y/N scoffed causing the crowd to quiet down as most of the lions sent glares their way.

"What was that Riddle?" One of the boys sneered.

"I said your all pathetic." Y/n repeated. "Though I think the proper word to use would have been stupid, dense, mindless, ignorant, simpleminded, empty-headed any of these will do."

"And what, your so smart?" Potter asked.

"Smarter that you lot that's for sure." Y/N replied. "It's sad really I mean I get the mudbl- I mean Granger not knowing theses thing even Potter, but you Weasley you come from a wizarding family not very well respected but a wizarding family none the less."

By this time Y/N had the attention of every wizard in the classroom from both housing knowing that any conversation between 'the golden trio' and the young Riddle was bound to be entertaining.

"Any witch or wizard worth their magic knows what Nargles are and the reason that Thestrals are invisible is because they can only be seen by those who have witnessed death, what do you think pulls that carriages that bring us from the train?" They pulled themselves up to sit now in the professors desk. "So maybe next time you see Loony Lovegood you should take on of those magazines then maybe you'll understand that Luna isn't crazy she's just smarter than you." Y/N smirked swinging their legs back and forth.

The door to the classroom swung open dramatically revealing Severus Snape finally arriving to teach his class.

"Riddle would you care to explain to me why you are sitting on my desk?" Snape asked strutting to the front of the class.

"Just explaining to our courageous classmates who are so brave to speak ill of someone behind their back exactly why they weren't sorting into Ravenclaw." They replied hopping of the professor's desk.

"How very generous of you but now that I have arrived you may take you proper seat and turn to page 265." Snape states in his usual disinterested tone. making their way to their seat Y/N passed by the table holding Weasley and Potter as the latter pipes up.

"If your so smart why weren't you sorted into Ravenclaw Riddle." The blue eyed boy questioned.

Smirking at the questioned Y/N turned to face the boy before leaning in close to his face.

"I think we all know why I wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw, Potter." They replied loud enough for everyone to hear, then proceeding to their seat as Snape began teaching the days lesson.