#kate bishop x yelena belova x reader

[peachyteabuck]

do you want this (like it wants you)

summary: kate likes to misbehave, but yelena has just the thing to keep her in line

commissioned by @caroldantops. 

want to commission me? find my commission guidelines here

pairing: kate bishop x yelena belova x reader

words: 4018

content warnings: hair pulling, heavy bratting, intense D/s dynamics, orgasm control/denial,  sybian use, dom! yelana, sub!kate, sub!reader, polyamory, pet play, breath play, vaginal oral sex, breathplay, aftercare is administered to both subs

Yelena just wants to rest.

She’s a busy woman, scaling the corporate ladder, a tough task given the complicated gender dynamics of the firm she’s been working at for the last year. It’s not as though she’s not highly qualified, but for whatever reason men with names like “Jason” or “Brett” or “Matt” spend most of their time questioning her qualifications or requesting reviews from someone “higher up” every time she presents, regardless of the fact everything is checked 3-4 times before being spoken about publicly.  

This is why she’s been letting Kate get away with as much as she has today. Ever since she’d let the both of you out of your shared crate, all Kate had done was push the boundaries of Yelena’s strict rules. Touching herself? Check. Trying to touch you? Check. Talking out of turn? Check. You’d been on your usual good behavior—saying “please Daddy” and “thank you Daddy” and staying close to her—but you’d also been your usual, easily-influenced self. Kate had convinced you to let her rub over your weeping pussy while Yelena was busy making breakfast (pancakes, Kate’s favorite).

Her breaking point came when she’d separated the two of you, questioning why you were dripping through the simple cotton panties despite Yelena’s very strict direction not to. That’s when she learned that, not only had Kate swirled circles around your clit as you desperately attempted to muffle your moans, but she’d also said that Yelena would blame you instead of Kate for going against such an integral rule.

Kate knows she fucked up, too—another thing that adds another ten to the running total in Yelena’s mind. She can hear the threat in the way Yelena beckons her closer, the “Puppy, come” command a much lower tone than usual.

While not the most critical thinker, Kate’s real deviousness comes in how decisive she is. A car with no breaks, a scent hound caught on the trail of a fox, a baseball flying through the air at 97 miles-per-hour. None of these could compare with Kate, not when she spotted the leather swatch that was used for spankings haphazardly balanced on one of the arms of the couch (Yelena hasn’t had much time to do a lot of things lately, including clean).

Before she can do anything, the well-worn leather is in Kate’s mouth, the woman on all fours with her collar jingling as she pants.

“Let it go,” Yelena sighs more than commands.

Kate does not let it go. She does not even loosen her jaw just so she can tighten it up again once the other person trying to grab it believes they’ve won over her. She just holds it between her teeth, staring with narrowed eyes and a growl forming at the base of her throat.

You’re not sure what to do. Kate, a sharp contrast to your own fear of retribution, loves to misbehave. She likes to tease, to poke and prod and see what sort of volcanic eruption she can trigger with the least amount of effort. Yelena normally humors her at least a little before enacting strict punishment—getting out the whips and the darkened cage and the electric shock collar and the touching you while Kate remains tied up.

But Yelena doesn’t seem in the same mood as she does when she fingers you until you cry as Kate’s arms remain restrained behind her back, the rope connected to a hook in the wall to keep her in her place. Doesn’t have the same “try me” glimmer in her dark eyes, the same teasing smile.

This is different. Something—something you can’t quite describe—is different, and all you can do is watch.

As she decides what to do, Yelena thinks about the whiteboard Natasha had custom-made for her, the words “DAYS WITHOUT BRATTING” underneath a large “zero” she had written nearly two weeks prior. She knows she’s been working a lot, and (even though her office is within the house, and both of you have places to sit with her while she works) Yelena knows both of her subs had been feeling lonely.

But subs like Kate require consistency—give them an inch and they’ll find a mile. She’s not like you, nice and self-correcting. Once you found yourself grinding against a pillow while waiting for Yelena to clean you up after an intense squirting session, and almost cried from the shame. Kate? The definition of gluttonous in her lust, couldn’t stop even if she wanted to, which she doesn’t. Yelena is her guardrails, a yellow light, a tree for her to collide against.

“Give Daddy what you have in your mouth,” Yelena says through grit teeth. “Or I’ll have to reteach you what it means what someone loses their patience.”

You remain seated, curled up next to where Yelena props her feet up on the coffee table. A fluffy pink dog bed with Bunny embroidered on it, you were happy to spend the morning (or all day, really), resting your head against her legs while she occasionally pets your hair.

But no, the universe continues to punish you with the presence of one Kate Bishop.

A stare-down ensues in front of you, neither of them moving, but alert in case the other does. You half expect tumbleweeds to roll in the distance--as if the town isn’t big enough for the two of them.

But nothing happens, and the world stands still.

That is, until Kate makes a run for the bedroom, where there’s the only closet in the house that locks from the inside.

What Kate failed to consider, though, is that Yelena isn’t just fast: she’s strategic as well. Leashes with hook ends drilled in the wall are placed on each side of every room, useful for a litany of play. Now, though, they act as anchors Kate can’t easily avoid on all fours. She gets a few feet, if that, before Yelena’s got one hand on wrapped around the collar and the other on the leash’s clasp. One click later, Kate’s stuck in place, the short leash keeping her on her knees with her back straight.

Yelena’s fuming as she releases the leash, keeping her other hand occupied with the collar. It’s not loose, and she can tell Kate’s struggling to breath against the minimal give of the leather. Good, Yelena thinks. Maybe that’ll remind her how vulnerable she is.

“Let. Go.” She says through grit teeth once more, rage a fire in her eyes.

Kate’s got fire, too, but the kind that yearns for more gasoline, more newspaper, more anything to keep the blaze growing. Slowly, she moves her head from side to side, refusing to give up her bargaining chip. Does she know what she wants? Not exactly. But does she kind of, sort of, maybe have a plan on how to get it? Absolutely. And it involves the leather piece in her mouth.

“Fine,” Yelena cedes. Kate perks up at that, believing she’s won for now. “If you want it so bad, puppy, go ahead keep it in your mouth.”

What she doesn’t hear is Yelena mumbling under her breath, the blonde woman rubbing at her temples as she murmurs about how she’ll need something to bite down on in a minute.  

“Stay right there, bunny,” she says, more audible now. She turns to Kate to say the same thing, then snorts.

Distorted by the leather, the stuck sub looks at you and smirks. Look at what I can do, her face says.

Yeah, yours replies, much drier. Sure.

Yelena returns a short time later carrying the sybian in her arms, silently setting it up. You can tell Kate’s as confused as you are—the sybian is usually a reward. Kate doesn’t let it show, though, still holding the leather in her mouth even as drool begins to drop from the corners of her lips. Once she sets it down as close to Kate as she can, she moves to you, her eyes full of concern.

“You okay, bunny?” she asks, wiping the tears from your eyes. You’re sweet—too sweet, sometimes—and she knows you require more emotional support regardless of what’s happening.

You lean into her hand, letting her caress your cheek. You’ve always been bad with chaos, with the unplanned. But Yelena’s there, always, to calm the storm.

“M’okay daddy,” you mumble. “I promise.”

This time her smile is genuine. “Good, bunny. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

You nod, moving your head to the side to kiss at her palm.

When Yelena’s certain you don’t need anything for now, she turns her attention back to Kate.

“Go ahead and mount it, puppy.”

Delightfully unaware, Kate does as she’s told, moving ever-so-carefully with the constraints of the leash’s length. Time stands still until she finally has it between her legs, her huffs of determination the only sound in the room. She looks pleased with herself as she rests on the rough silicone pad, a small triumph given the circumstances.

Yelena, once again, remains silent. She remains silent as she stares, waiting for Kate to move (she doesn’t). She remains silent as she opens the coffee table, the top lifting to reveal a batch of meticulously organized toys. She remains silent as she regards her options. She remains silent as she grabs purple rope and walks back to Kate.

Yelena only speaks when she crouches down and begins to wrap the ropes.

“I didn’t want to do this, you know,” Yelena mutters as she ties the them so that they keep Kate’s legs folded. She tests the give of the rope with her fingers, moving to tie her wrists behind her back after Kate gives her a nod. “But if you want to test me, fine.”

Yelena turns to the side, grabbing the large pink wand vibrator that had been charging in the bedroom. As she moves, her tank top falls down her chest, the silver keys on a matching chain nearly visible. One engraved with a P, the other a B; the keys to each of your chastity cages remain an ever-present reminder of one of Yelena’s favorite punishments.

Be good, she said once as she edged you, dangling them back and forth in front of your hazy eyes. Or I’ll need to make sure these still fit in those cute little locks over your pussy.

“C’mere bunny,” she says, beckoning you over. “Come here to Daddy.”

Your legs feel like jelly as you get up, slotting yourself in the chasm that’s formed between them. You stand in front of Yelena, a little apprehensive but ultimately willing to trust her with whatever plan she has formed while she was waiting for Kate to stop misbehaving.  

Yelena leaves soft kisses along your jugular, her hands finding your hips. They’re still sore from the night before, covered in light, spotty purple bruising. She holds you as though you’re fragile, breakable—not wanting to crush you with her skilled hands.

She pushes up your shirt a little to cradle your tummy. For some reason, it makes you feel exposed.

It’s not like you were wearing much anyway, your preferred at-home attire being a well-worn shirt from either of your girlfriends and a comfortable pair of cotton panties. The shirt today is a two-sizes-too-big t-shirt from a tech startup Yelena had the misfortune of working for (and caused her to swear off startups forever), the underwear a pink pair with a small bow on the front. They’re also joined by your day collar, a silver necklace with a bunny outline and “property of Daddy” engraved in the back.

“Eyes up here, puppy,” she says, teeth scraping now along the column of your throat. She knows how sensitive you are there, how easily you’ll melt into her palms with a few well-placed kisses. She also knows how much Kate needs attention—and hates when others get it when she doesn’t.

When Kate finally meets your eyes, you feel one of Yelena’s hands move and then hear a faint click—followed by the sound of vibrations and Kate’s muffled moans.

“Stand right here with Daddy,” she whispers in your ear, voice low enough Kate can’t hear. “I want to see what she does when she realizes which one of you is about to get off.”

Kate’s close to your pussy, close enough that you can feel her heated breath against your core. She’s panting in that desperate way you’ve always loved, the kind that makes her face flushed. Her lips are swollen and red from rubbing them against the leather, making them extra kissable.

You love her like this, fucked out before even being fucked. But you wished you got to see her like this outside of Yelena’s intense punishments.

That’s when you hear another click, another vibrational hum joining the symphony of lewdness. With one arm around your middle to keep you upright, the other grabs the vibrator and runs the head over your covered, unsuspecting clit.

“Oh!” You’re caught by surprise, wrapping your shirt in your fists as an alternative to grabbing something for balance. You’re able to lean on Yelena, your back pushed against her chest. But there’s nothing else to keep you upright. “Oh Daddy!”

“That feel good, bunny?” she coos at you. You can feel her smiling into your heated skin, sometimes leaving small nips as she revels in giving you pleasure.

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth as she presses harder, still making those large, slow circles meant to tease you. The nods you give her are quick, frenzied. All you want to do for her is find the nearest tall surface and bend yourself over it, pulling your soaked panties down your trembling thighs to give her free access to your dripping center. You want her to fuck you in the hard, fast, rough way you liked; the kind that left you struggling to walk the next day.

When you don’t reply immediately, she decreases the speed.

“No,” you whimper, grinding your hips down as best you can. “Daddy no, no, no please don’t please!”

“Then answer me, bunny,” she responds. “Don’t want you to end up like puppy here, do you?”

While a keen ear could hear it immediately, you’re too fucked out already to tell that the sybian Kate’s riding is on the setting that rotates through intensities. It never stays on the higher settings long enough for her to cum, but never gets low enough to give her any sort of relief.

“Yes, Daddy!” It’s hard to form words, your speech speeding up as the vibe rolls over your clit. “Yes, fuck Daddy it feels so good.”

“Good, bunny. I’m glad.”

You think she’s going to let you cum now, going to press the vibe as hard as she can into your aching center. But she doesn’t—she just continues her cycle, not telling you she’s timing them so you and Kate are on opposite settings. When one of you is moaning, the other is begging for more. Yelena revels in making the two of you play off of each other, forcing the two of you to intersect in ways she orchestrates.

“You look so pretty, bunny,” she coos, her eyes flitting between both of you. “Doesn’t our little bunny look pretty, baby?”

Kate tries to say something, but it dies as something muffled by the material still in her mouth. Still, she continues to try, the mumbled words sounding more and more desperate as she continues. You assume you look like a mirror of her—same fuzzy brain leading to the same pleading eyes and choked cries.

“Puppy, do you want something?” Yelena’s words are coated in the fake-caring tone that sends another wave of heat through your abdomen. A noise that sounds something close to a “yes” comes from Kate’s throat.

Yelena just tuts. “You need to tell me what you want, puppy.”

Kate whimpers, drool starting to pool at the sides of her mouth. Tears, too, are now flooding her cheeks.

Yelena’s smile is sinister, a light laugh bracketing her words. “Oh, that’s right, isn’t it? You lost that privilege when you decided to be a stupid brat and disobey a simple command. I trained you better than that, puppy.”

The desperate brunette couldn’t defend herself if she wanted to. Yelena’s always been a domme with high standards, standards she’s always communicated clearly and effectively. Kate has just…always liked to push buttons, the envelope, boundaries. Anything she thought she could defy, she would.

But Yelena still loved her, always providing the punishments appropriate. There was never a challenge she couldn’t meet, and Kate loved her in return.

“Are you willing to drop it now?”

Kate blinks at her once, twice. Then nods.

Defeat, Yelena thinks, always tastes just as good as she predicts.

“Then drop it.”

For the first time that day, Kate does what she is told without a fight. She doesn’t realize how sore her jaw is until she’s finally able to move it around, the muscles resisting the stretch.

“Do you want to come now?”

Kate nods, the words a little garbled because of her jaw. “Yes, please Daddy.”

Yelena doesn’t respond to her, instead turning to you.

“Go ahead and cum, bunny. I’ll hold you, don’t worry.”

Her permission is all you need, crying out as the avalanche of gratification floods your veins. The white-hot euphoria burns your fingertips, Yelena’s strength able to keep you from falling on your face. She turns the vibe down as your orgasm succeeds, slowly pulling you from the euphoric edge.

“Such a good girl for me,” she says, holding you to her as you pant. “Such a good little pet for Daddy.”

When your breathing finally evens out, she slowly lowers you to the ground. She’s wearing the same sweatpants she was last night, the soft fabric a welcome pillow as you lean against her. They smell like her, too, like the cologne she wears even though she works from home and the honey shampoo she likes. You drink in the comfort of being near her, of being enveloped by her.

Yelena pets your hair as she speaks once more. “I want you to cum while eating our perfect little bunny out,” she says. “Can you do that? Or do you want to go to bed without an orgasm?”

“I-“ you watch as Kate grinds against the toy, her pussy so slick you can see her wetness seeping over the silicone bit of the sybian. It catches the light, and your fried brain is mesmerized by the sight. “Yes, Daddy. Please let me eat our Bunny’s pussy while I cum.”

“Good girl.”

Yelena picks you up and moves you into position, pushing your shirt up and your panties down. You don’t have to think or do anything but stand there, leaning on her for balance as Kate licks up your weeping slit.

The angle is awkward for both of you. Every time Kate presses herself to you, she has to hold her breath—which can never hold long enough for you to get anywhere close to your peak. Yelena makes a mental note to try this again if she ever wanted to edge you, especially since Kate loves a little breathplay now and then.

Despite all of this, though, it’s easy, for both of you to lose yourself to the pleasure, and so you do. You don’t think about the strain in your knees, or how dry your mouth feels. Kate doesn’t think about how sore she’s going to be tomorrow from her muscles tensing so often, or the fact her cunt aches in that way Yelena’s only been able to draw out of her. All you can think about is the feeling of Kate’s tongue lapping at your soaked folds; all Kate can think about is how much she loves drawing those little gasps out of you she loves so much.

“Such perfect pets,” Yelena murmurs. One hand is threaded through Kate’s hair, the other reaching around your waist to palm at your ass. “So good to each other...”

She remembers, vividly, when the two of you couldn’t seem to stop hating each other. There were fights and so much bickering that drove Yelena insane. In the end, an extra extra large crate; an extra, extra short leash attached to both of your collars; and a few overstimulation sessions got you two to get along quite well.

It’s good—so good—and all your fucked-out brain can do is babble nonsensically. Her movements are jerky and mistimed, but with how sensitive you are, it really doesn’t matter.

Kate finally cums a few minutes later, moaning lowly into your cunt. Her whole body shakes with each breath, her chest red hot from exertion. Ecstasy flows between the two of you, settling on your skin like glitter.

“You okay?”

Both of you nod. Kate’s face is covered in your wetness, the same wetness that drenches your thighs.

Yelena watches you both for a second the same way hunters monitor their kill even after they’ve hit the ground. There’s something special about knowing she’s the one who did this—who set the scene where both of you finished so worn out that neither of you could do anything else but fall to the floor in exhaustion.

But she’s a sadist, not a monster, and so once she’s had her moment of fun, she carries you to the couch before untying Kate. The ropes have made beautiful indents in her pale skin, and Yelena can’t wait to trace them once all three of you are cuddled up in bed. Yelena carries Kate so you two can lay together as she checks the minifridge in the bedroom, making sure there are enough water bottles and light snacks to last you until you can eat something more substantial. After making sure the covers are in the right order (you’re ridiculously picky), and the heated blanket is on its lowest setting (Kate always gets cold, but hates being too hot), she returns to find the both of you cuddled into each other like newborn puppies.  

Fuck, she thinks. She always feels bad moving either of you once you’re snuggled up and comfortable, let alone when you’re all cozy together.

But Yelena also knows the couch definitely isn’t big enough for the two of you, and you’re already going to be sore tomorrow, and there are no blankets, and there isn’t any room for her in the mix of all of this. So, partially selflessly, partially completely selfishly, she slowly detangles the two of you. It’s a mess of limbs reminiscence of a tangled pair of earbuds, but somehow she manages to free you from each other and carry you up to bed one by one (Yelena’s strong, but she’s definitely not strong enough to carry both of you at once, unfortunately). You’re on the right side of the California King with Kate on the left, leaving a big enough space that you can’t find the other one and tangle back up again. Once both of you has consumed a full water bottle’s worth of water and are wearing clean shirts to sleep in, Yelena finally crawls under the covers to join the both of you.  

“I love you both,” she says as each of you cuddles into her chest. You prefer resting your head in the crook of her neck, while Kate prefers to be face first into her chest. Even half asleep, Kate’s always a little obsessed with Yelena’s tits. “Even when you act like spoiled little princesses.”

And she does, truly. She loves Kate even when she bites her out of nowhere, and she loves you even when you go along with Kate’s ridiculous schemes. She loves Kate even when she refuses to just ask for what she wants, and she loves you when you beg for whatever Yelena’s willing to give you. She even loves you when you snore ever so lightly right into your ear, the sound lulling her into a deep sleep.

#yelena belova x reader #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x yelena belova x reader #lukis does commissions #lukis writes stuff

[marvelouslytrekking]

Roommate Advice

Pairing: Kate/Yelena/Reader Summary: You call Clint for some advice about your two roommates. But things go a little differently then planned when they both come back sooner then expected Word Count: 788 A/N: This is for @xxxtwilightaxelxxx from a secret prompt list that I posted literally forever ago! I have finally found some motivation to write! Writing Yelena was a bit intimidating so that is why she had the least lines lol but either way, hope you enjoy this!! (Apologies for always taking forever to write drabble requests)

“Hey Clint!” You smiled when you saw his face pop up on the facetime call. You were glad that he had decided to call you when you sent the ‘I need advise asap’ text to him.

“Hey kid, what’s going on?” He asked. “Is Kate burning down the kitchen and you need to know how to convince her to stop trying to cook?”

“Ha. ha.” You rolled your eyes, though while he was obviously teasing, he wasn’t far off. You and Yelena had very quickly banned her from making anything more complicated than grilled cheeses within the first month of being roommates. “Yelena and I solved that awhile ago. This is a little more, personal?”

“Oh you know, it looks like Lila needs me, I think I got to go.”

“Clint, please I am dying over here and need some advise!” You plead with him. You weren’t sure why you decided to go to Clint with your love life problems but you had no idea who else to go to.

“Fine, but why aren’t you going to Kate or Yelena? They are your best friends.” He questioned.

“Yes, that is true but it kind of involves them.” You sighed.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, so, god I don’t know how to say this… I think I am in love with them.” You rushed out the last part. Glad to get it off your chest but also not fully sure how Clint would react.

“You’re in love with them?” You watched as Clint processed what you had just told him. It wasn’t judgment in his eyes, but he was definitely working through something in his mind. “Now that I am thinking about it, it’s pretty obvious. I think they both feel the same thing. I just wrote it off as you all just being attached at the hip friends, but i think it’s definitely more than that. I think you should just tell them.”

“I can’t do that.” You barely let him finish his sentence. “I'm worried, that if we go there…. things might never be the same. What if they don’t feel the same way? You know how hard finding roommates in this city is?”

“Why did you bother calling me if you weren’t going to take my advice that you so desperately wanted.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I wanted you to tell me I was crazy for being in love with not one but two of my best friends and that I needed to get over it or I’d ruin our friendship.” You sighed, realizing how ridiculous you sounded.

“Wait, which best friends are you in love with?” You felt your heart drop to your feet as Kate’s voice rang out behind you.

“I- I thought you had class for another hour.” You stutter out, hoping to change the subject.

“Just tell her the truth, I got to go” Clint told you before hanging up.

“My class let out early. What truth is he talking about?” Kate asked, a bit confused as to why you were telling Clint something that she didn’t know.

“It’s nothing.” You tried.

“It doesn’t feel like nothing, especially if you thought to call Clint about it.” She frowned, “You’re in love with someone and won’t tell me who?”

“It you.” You sighed, deciding trying to hide it may be worse than just telling the truth “And Yelena.”

“And listen, I know that’s a lot and it’s kinda weird and we have just started to feel super comfortable in our weird and chaotic friendship so if you don’t feel the same, or Yelena doesn’t or whatever, I will forget it and we can just pretend that I never said anything.” You rushed out before she had a chance to respond.

“You’re in love with me?!” She stuttered out, “And Yelena? Oh thank god, I was starting to think I was the weird friend who had fallen in love with both her roommates and was definitely going to slip up and say it eventually.”

“Who is in love with their roommates?” Yelena said as she had just entered the apartment.

“We are,” You and Kate said at the same time before giggling at the face of shock the turned into a smile from your favorite Russian.

“Oh you both finally decided to admit it!”

“Wait, are you trying to say you’ve known?” You asked, taken aback.

“Duh, I am a spy, you are both so adorably obvious.” She rolled her eyes as she hung her coat up.

“You didn’t think to, I don't know, tell us?” Kate huffed.

“No. It was cute watching you both.” She smiled.

“So you feel the same?” You asked hopefully.

“Somehow, yes” She smiled. Both Kate and yourself immediately matched her smile.

#Kate Bishop/Yelena/reader #Kate bishop x reader #Yelena x reader #Yelena x Kate #Kate x Yelena x reader #Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova x reader #Kate/Yelena/reader #Kate/Yelena #Kate Bishop/reader #Yelena Belova/reader #marvel #Aimee writes

[abbyromanoff]

14 DAYS OF KINKMAS MASTERLIST:

DAY 1: YOU’RE BACK, BUT ITS TOO LATE - Emily Prentiss

DAY 2: BETTER THAN HIM - Yelena Belova

DAY 3: VISIONS - Wanda Maximoff

DAY 4: OLDER - Wanda Maximoff

DAY 5: NEVER KNOW - Natasha Romanoff

DAY 6: DESIGNS - Natasha Romanoff

DAY 7: GOLDEN GIRL - Maria Hill

DAY 8: LET ME LOVE YOU - Agatha Harkness

DAY 9: MISTLETOE - Maria Hill

DAY 10: HOAX - Claire Debella

DAY 11: UNFAIR - Carol Danvers

DAY 12: KEEP QUIET - Emily Prentiss

DAY 13: HAPPY HOLIDAYS - Kate Bishop

DAY 14: DOUBLE TROUBLE - CarolValkyrie

#Wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #Wanda maximoff angst #Wanda maximoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff smut #Natasha Romanoff angst #Natasha Romanoff fluff #kate bishop fluff #kate bishop x fem!reader #kate bishop smut #Kate bishop angst #yelena belova x reader smut #Yelena Belova smut #Yelena Belova angst #Yelena Belova fluff #Emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss fluff #Emily prentiss angst #carol danvers x female reader #carol danvers smut #carol danvers fluff #carol danvers angst #maria hill angst #maria hill smut #Maria hill fluff #agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness fluff #wandanat smut

[gfmaximoff]

Y/N: I don’t even flirt that much.

Yelena: Oh really? *stands up* Raise your hands if you think you’re dating Y/N.

Natasha: *raises hand*

Wanda: *raises hand*

Shuri: *raises hand*

Kate: *raises hand*

Yelena, side eyeing violently: Kate Bishop, what was that?

#avengers #incorrect mcu quotes #marvel incorrect quotes #avengers incorrect quotes #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #shuri #shuri x reader #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate x yelena #gfmaximoff #bishova

[incorrectquotesmcu]

Kate: What did you get Yelena for her birthday?

Y/N: I got her a dog.

Kate: Really? Me too!

Sam: I also got her a dog!

Bucky: Looks like we had the same idea.

Y/N: Scott, please tell me you didn’t get Yelena a dog as well.

Scott: I got her a dog!

[cuts to Yelena surrounded by dogs]

Yelena: THIS IS THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!!

#source: tik tok #kate bishop #kate bishop incorrect quotes #hawkeye #yelena belova #yelena belova incorrect quotes #black widow #avengers x reader #sam wilson #sam wilson incorrect quotes #falcon #captain america #bucky barnes #bucky barnes incorrect quotes #winter soldier #scott lang #scott lang incorrect quotes #ant man #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel #avengers #avengers incorrect quotes

[rxmqnova]

*at the mall*

Wanda: Hey, have any of you guys seen Y/N? She's been gone for a while..

Kate: Eh, nope.

Natasha: No, I haven't...

Yelena: Probably ran off to McDonald's or something.

Y/N: Hey.

Wanda: Ooh, there you are-

Kate: What the fu-

Yelena: I- where were you?!

Y/N: Walking right behind you guys.

#source: incorrect quotes generator #incorrect marvel quotes #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #yelena belova #kate bishop #black widow #scarlet witch #the avengers #the avengers x reader #avengers x y/n #avengers x you #avengers x reader #avengers incorrect quotes

[ginnsbaker]

mastermind

Summary: As your sticks fly across the drums, your eyes momentarily scan the crowd, taking in the faces, the movements, the ecstatic energy. And then, in the flickering club lights, you spot her // …or the one where you find Wanda in the crowd during your band's gig, only to discover there's much more to her than you initially thought.

Word count: 5.2K+ | Tags: Smut (18+), Fluff, Oral and fingering (W receiving), Squirting, Overstimulation, Meet-cute, Drummer!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Requested by anon. I got carried a way for a bit and took a few liberties. Hope you like it!

-

You almost didn’t make it for tonight’s gig. 

Still recovering from the flu you caught last week, you were close to letting Kate fill in on the drums. That is, until Yelena begged you not to let her girlfriend botch a sold-out evening.

The tension backstage is thicker than Bucky’s pre-show smoothie, and, given the mishmash of green ingredients, that's saying something.

“I'm just saying, letting Kate drum tonight is like giving a cat a keyboard and expecting Bonham,” Yelena says, gesturing wildly with her hands.

“Continue talking and you might not have a girlfriend by the end of your next sentence!” Kate huffs, spinning on her heel to stomp out of the area. 

You sip on your water, trying to keep your hydration levels up but also stifle a chuckle. This isn’t the first time Yelena’s protective streak has clashed with Kate's overenthusiastic approach to... well, everything. Natasha is trying, and failing, to keep a straight face, while Bucky seems to have found sudden interest in the intricate patterns on his boots. 

Your head is throbbing, the remnants of the flu still gnawing at your energy, but you've mustered up just enough strength to make it through tonight's set. Before Yelena or any other band member can comment further, the organizer gestures for your band to take the stage.

You take a deep breath, followed by another swig of water. It's almost showtime, and the excitement is seeping through the nerves, reminding you why you endure the endless rehearsals, sleepless nights, and yes, even the pre-show squabbles.

As you step onto the stage, the applause is deafening. The lights illuminate the sea of faces before you, and you can see the familiar glint of excitement in the eyes of returning fans mixed with the curious expressions of first-timers.

Bucky approaches the mic, flashing his signature charming smile at the crowd. “Good evening, everyone! We’re ecstatic to see so many familiar faces and new ones too! We've got a great set for you tonight, but before we start, let's give a big shoutout to Y/N here, who's powering through the flu to be with us tonight!” The crowd roars in appreciation, and you can't help but wave sheepishly, a tentative smile stretching across your face.

Natasha strums the opening chords of the first song, her fingers dancing effortlessly over the strings. Yelena, momentarily forgetting her earlier spat with Kate, loses herself in the rhythm, the bassline syncing perfectly with your drumbeat. The music flows, each note hitting the right spots, the synergy between band members mesmerizing the audience.

As your sticks fly across the drums, your eyes momentarily scan the crowd, taking in the faces, the movements, the ecstatic energy.

And then, in the flickering club lights, you spot her.

There's a brunette, her hair cascading down, dancing like she was born for this exact moment. The way she sways and lets loose to the rhythm—it's captivating.

But it's when she turns around that your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. Her eyes meet yours, and the world seems to slow down for a moment. Those intense, deep-set eyes pull you in, making it impossible to look away. They're filled with an emotion that's hard to pinpoint: intrigue, curiosity, maybe even a hint of challenge. The message is clear—she's noticed you, just as much as you've noticed her. 

She doesn't break the gaze, and as her hips move in tune with your beats, there's a silent communication happening. Your hands, despite the rising temperature of the room, feel cold against the drumsticks. It's a battle to maintain your rhythm and not lose yourself under her spell.

Natasha, catching the look on your face, leans in during a brief instrumental break. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you reply, attempting to refocus. Your distraction had almost caused you to miss a beat or two. 

Your eyes are locked onto the brunette once more as she starts grinding against her friend, her movements confident, sultry, and unapologetically magnetic. It's the sort of dancing that would have any person within the perimeter drooling on the spot. Usually, you'd shy away from openly watching someone move so suggestively, but you find yourself completely mesmerized.

As the next song kicks off, you throw in some extra flash on the drums, just to see if she'll play along. And sure enough, with every fancy beat you drop, she dances right to it. It's like you're both in this unspoken challenge, seeing who can outdo the other. Your fingers grip the drumsticks tighter, and you can feel the heat rising on your face.

That's when Natasha glances in the same direction and catches on. “Well, well, looks like someone's got a fan,” she murmurs with a wink, her voice barely audible over the booming speakers.

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool, but the dryness in your mouth betrays your nonchalance. “Just playing my part,” you quip, though you're keenly aware that your concentration tonight is split between the drums and the mesmerizing dancer.

Yelena, following the exchange between you and Natasha, leans in from the bass guitar, raising an eyebrow. “Who's got you all hot and bothered?”

“Shut up, Yel,” you retort. With cheeks aflame, you try to shove Yelena’s teasing aside, to focus solely on the music coursing through your veins. However, the allure of the brunette is a magnet you can’t seem to resist.

As the beat picks up, so does the pace of your heart, hammering against your chest with every enthralling movement she makes. She is intoxicating, and you’re utterly spellbound.

During the bridge, you hit a sour note—a misstep that rarely happens—and Bucky gives you a dirty look from across the stage. He’s a perfectionist when it comes to the music, and you mouth a silent “sorry” before forcing your eyes away from the captivating sight in the crowd.

But not before catching her reaction.

She's laughing, her eyes alight with impishness, and you'd swear she's looking right at you. There's a knowing smile on her lips that suggests she knows exactly the effect she’s had on you. It’s both mortifying and exhilarating.

You try to keep to the side, hiding behind cymbals and drums, but it's impossible to shake the sensation of being observed. It's like she's got a spotlight aimed right at you, and you're center stage. Every moment you resist looking her way feels like an eternity, but every time you feel the pull to glance in her direction, Yelena’s earlier tease flares in your mind, keeping your eyes stubbornly on Bucky’s flashy shoes.

As the last song fades and the applause rolls in, you set down your drumsticks, nerves and excitement warring within you. You don't hang around for Bucky's wrap-up speech. Instead, you hustle to get backstage.

-

To everyone's shock, you decide to stick around after the gig. You're usually the most introverted one in the group and never do this.

Natasha sidles up to you, a teasing smirk on her lips. “So, about that girl you couldn't take your eyes off of...?”

You attempt to play it cool, but your nervous fidgeting with your drumsticks gives you away. “What girl?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

Bucky snorts in amusement, a wicked grin stretching across his face. “The one you were practically eye-fucking the entire set? Thought you were gonna jump off stage and grab her right there.”

You're now the shade of a ripe tomato, desperately searching for a diversion. “You guys are seeing things,” you mumble, avoiding their amused gazes.

“Honestly, I was half-expecting her to throw a bra onstage or something, the way you were gawking,” Yelena chirps in.

“Enough,” you protest weakly, your voice drowned out by the laughter of your bandmates.

Just as you're about to slip away to the bar for a breather, a waiter approaches you with a drink in hand. “Compliments of the lady over there,” he says, nodding towards a dim corner of the club.

You peer in the direction he's indicating but can't make out who it's from. The drink looks fancy, possibly alcoholic. Glancing at the waiter, you inform him, “I can't drink alcohol right now, but thank you.”

Natasha snatches it from the tray. “Well, if you're not taking it, it's mine.”

Bucky laughs. “Is everyone in this club trying to woo our drummer tonight?”

You roll your eyes at them, trying not to dwell on the mystery woman. However, it's not long before the same waiter returns, this time holding a simple glass of lemonade. “The lady noticed you weren’t drinking the cocktails and thought you might prefer this.”

Your curiosity almost gets the better of you, but the memories of the striking brunette dancing to your beats earlier still linger fresh in your mind. You opt not to scour the club's corners to spot who's sending the drinks. Instead, you lift the lemonade in a thankful gesture, aiming it in the general direction of where the waiter had pointed, and offer a polite, appreciative smile into the dim.

Natasha teases, “Playing hard to get, huh?”

You shrug and take a sip from your drink. “Just soaking in the night and the rewards of our hard work,” you remark, patting the pocket where you tucked away the cash from tonight's gig. “Isn't that what we're here for?”

-

An hour later, the club's neon and strobe lights continue to play tricks on your eyes, turning every brunette head you spot into a potential sighting. Each time, however, it’s not her.

Bucky's animated conversation about a new track he's been working on fades into the background. Natasha keeps throwing you knowing glances, but doesn't press. It's Yelena who finally comments, probably having had enough of your desolate puppy-dog look. She nudges you with her elbow, Kate giggling drunkenly by her side. Yelena's arm is protectively around Kate, but her sharp gaze is all on you.

“You know, you won't find her by just sulking here and gazing at every brunette that walks past. You gotta move,” she challenges, her tone equal parts bored and encouraging.

Kate, in her slightly inebriated state, adds with a giggle, “Yeah, go get her, tiger!”

“It's not that easy, you know,” you sigh, brooding over your drink. “Plus, what if she's not even interested?”

Yelena's smirk is almost predatory. “From what I saw? Trust me, she's interested. Now go.”

With a resigned sigh, you push yourself up from the booth. Steeling yourself, you start weaving your way through the crowd, using your slightly sober advantage to maneuver past intoxicated dancers. You scan every corner and table as you walk past, even though there's a nagging feeling in your gut that she might have already left the club.

It’s after what feels like an eternity that you spot a familiar cascade of brunette locks by the bar. She’s engaged in what appears to be an animated conversation with a tall, equally striking man. However, her posture—shoulders slightly hunched, eyes darting around—suggests that she’s far from comfortable.

The protective instinct kicks in before you can talk yourself out of it. Closing the distance, you position yourself between her and the persistent guy, offering her a way out. “Hey there,” you say, smoothly, your voice loud enough to be heard over the clamor. “I've been looking for you. Sorry I'm late.”

She catches on immediately, her relief evident as she steps closer to you, away from the guy. “There you are! I was starting to worry,” she plays along, giving you a swift kiss on the cheeks that has your eyes widening for a second and breaking character. Thankfully, the guy doesn’t notice your blunder, and sensing he's lost this battle, scowls and retreats into the crowd.

Turning to her, you can't help the grin that finds its way to your face. “Sorry for that, I wanted to help, but I didn’t also want to cause any trouble.”

She smiles back, her eyes gleaming in the club lights. “Thank you for the save. I was about to resort to more drastic measures.”

The banter between you flows naturally, the awkward ice broken by the unusual circumstance of your first interaction. “I'm Y/N,” you offer, extending a hand.

“Wanda,” she says, taking your hand. Her grip is firm and her hand warm against yours. It sends a jolt of electricity up your arm. Only now do you notice her eyes, the shade of green in them, and the way they reveal so much yet nothing at all. Just like that, you fall a little deeper into her trap.

“Wanda,” you repeat, tasting the name on your tongue as if trying it out. Your smile broadens instinctively, and she catches it, her nose scrunching up bashfully.

“What?” she asks.

“Oh, nothing,” you chuckle nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “I just think it's a beautiful name. Fits someone as beautiful as you.”

She blushes, and you can't help but inwardly high five yourself for making her smile like that. She looks away for a moment, trying to hide her smile but fails miserably, and you find it endearing.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she says, her eyes meeting yours once more, a shy smile on her lips.

The night unfolds seamlessly from there. You find a quiet corner away from the crowd, where the music is a distant thump, allowing conversation to flow freely.

“So, when did you start drumming?” Wanda asks, leaning in a bit, genuinely seeming interested in your answer. You try your best to stay calm as you feel the heat radiate from her body.

“Believe it or not, I started a bit late, around twelve,” you reply, smiling at the memory of your younger self, awkwardly trying to grasp the drumsticks. “But I played the guitar first, picked it up when I was just five.”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Wow, so you're a multi-instrumentalist?”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, but can't help the proud grin that creeps onto your face. “Something like that. But I mainly stick to drums in the band.”

She tilts her head, her eyes shining with interest. “Why don't you play the guitar for the band then?”

“Natasha's better than me on the guitar. She's got this incredible flair and finesse. I mean, I'm good, but she's... amazing.”

Wanda nods, absorbing the information, “I've heard her play, she really is. But I'm sure you're just as great.”

You laugh, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Then, taking a sip of your drink, you add, “Playing the guitar actually helps a lot when I'm writing our songs.”

“Wait, you write the songs?”

“Most of them,” you confirm, trying to sound as modest as you can be. “It's a collaborative effort, of course. But yeah, having a knowledge of multiple instruments, especially the guitar, helps lay the foundation for many of our tracks.”

Wanda looks at you, clearly impressed. “That's incredible, Y/N. No wonder your music feels so... personal. It's like you're telling a story with every song.”

“You’ve listened to our songs before?” you ask, mildly surprised.

Wanda nods sheepishly, as if caught harboring a guilty secret. “I might have, a few times... I definitely came here tonight to see you guys perform.” 

She then places a hand on your knee, and all at once, your throat feels parched. She scoots closer to you, to speak directly into your ear. “I wish I could see you play the guitar for me.”

You swallow hard. Her suggestion has certainly crossed your mind several times throughout the conversation. “Actually,” you begin, trying to steady your voice, “we keep our instruments in the back of the van. If you're interested, I could... play something for you?”

Wanda pulls back slightly to meet your eyes, looking like she wasn’t expecting you to actually agree to give her a private performance. “Really? Now?”

You nod, then stand and extend your hand to her, grinning. “Ready for a show?”

-

This isn’t exactly the kind of show you had in mind when you led Wanda to the back of the van. But you’re just twenty seconds into the new song you’ve been working on when she grabs your face with both hands and draws you in for a ferocious kiss. It’s a kiss that you haven’t tasted in a while—completely unrestrained.

You're lucky the drum set hasn't been loaded up yet, and with Bucky's keyboard being used by the current band onstage, there's just the right amount of space. Taking advantage, you push Wanda onto her back without breaking away from the kiss.

You pull away just enough to ask, “Are you sure?” while Wanda starts to slide your jacket down your arms.

Wanda nods impatiently, tracing her tongue along the underside of your chin, clearly enjoying the reaction she provokes.

“Was that a yes?” you prod, sitting up. Wanda sighs, albeit a bit irritably, only because you're suddenly out of her reach, before she collects herself enough to answer, “Yes, Y/N, I'm sure.”

“It's just that... I usually don’t do this,” you confess, looking down in embarrassment.

Your heart is pounding so loudly you're sure Wanda can hear it, especially with the way she's studying you intently. You can feel the heat creep up your neck, coloring your cheeks a deep shade of pink. This isn't typically your scene, and you wonder if she's regretting her decision.

But then, with a move that’s smooth and tender, Wanda slides her fingers under your chin, lifting your head to meet her gaze. Her eyes aren't filled with judgment or mockery, but with genuine understanding and something else you can't quite place.

“I find it... sexy,” she murmurs. “It’s refreshing, actually. Everything about you feels genuine. It's rare to find someone not playing games.”

Your eyes widen a fraction. That wasn't the reaction you'd been expecting.

She smirks a little at your expression, that hint of mischief returning. “Did you think admitting you're a little inexperienced would scare me off? If anything, it makes this even more exciting.”

“I'm not exactly 'inexperienced',” you argue with a bashful smile.

Her voice drops to a whisper, making your breath catch, and she inches just a bit closer. “I'm sure about this, Y/N. The back of a van might not be a romantic scene from a movie, but…” she breathes, and then she makes sure you feel every word she’s going to say next being spoken in your ear. “But right now? I swear, I might just go crazy if you don't touch me.”

Her statement stokes the fire between your legs and acting on the pull you feel, you lean in, hesitating just for a fraction of a second before capturing her lips with yours. Wanda lets out a soft, sultry moan as you deepen the kiss, your tongue boldly seeking entrance. She grants it, and you're immediately intoxicated, not just by the taste of the vodka she's been sipping on, but by Wanda herself. The way she feels, the way she responds—it's all consuming.

She tilts her head, granting you better access, and you take the opportunity to explore every inch of her mouth. The gentle tang of the alcohol is present but overshadowed by her own unique flavor, which is even more intoxicating. You can feel her hands resting on your shoulders, fingers gripping you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

Wanda's breath hitches sharply as you confidently take charge. You yank her shirt off in one quick move, and she's laid bare under the soft street lights. Outside, some party is still in full swing, but in here, it's all about the uninhibited hunger between the two of you.

You slip your fingers to the back of her bra, fumbling just a moment before unhooking it, revealing her. Not wasting any time, you dive in, taking her nipple in your mouth, savoring it. The sensation drives her wild, and she arches her back, pushing herself deeper against you with a throaty moan.

Her fingers grip your hair, guiding and sometimes just pulling when she needs more. Every sound she makes, every pull of her fingers, gets you more revved up. It's intense, it's messy, but it's all too real.

As your hands venture lower, you notice her pupils dilate and her breathing grow uneven.

“You still sure?” you whisper, releasing her nipple with a wet pop. She responds with a desperate whine, pressing her hips closer to yours.

“Use your words, baby girl,” you murmur, nipping at her pulse point.

“Yes, yes, yes…” she answers breathlessly. “Please, Y/N.”

Your fingers playfully glide over her entrance, teasing her, “So wet for me,” you marvel, pressing a firm kiss to her neck. Your fingers dip inside her just slightly, pulling back out to further tease her.

“It's too bad I don't have my strap with me,” you groan, grinding against her thigh, letting her feel how turned on you are. “You'd look so pretty, taking it all.”

Her breathing hitches, “God, I wish you had it too.”

Wanda’s whines intensify, a sweet sound of pure desperation, as you suddenly remove your fingers from her. “Why did you—” she starts to complain, but you silence her with a searing kiss.

“I want to see all of you,” you murmur against her lips. Her skirt is the next target, and you fumble with the zipper, eager to remove the barrier between your hands and her skin. However, as you're about to pull down her underwear, a thought strikes you. Looking around the back of the van, you remember how it's been used for hauling equipment, and the floor isn't exactly pristine.

Thinking quickly, you grab your jacket and lay it out beneath her, ensuring she's on a cleaner surface. “Always got to take care of my girl,” you wink at her, trying to lighten the moment.

“Your girl?” Wanda echoes, her eyes half-lidded, a playful smile curling on her lips.

You realize your slip-up a beat too late, but then, her underwear and skirt are swiftly discarded, and she lies there, beautifully exposed to your hungry gaze.

“You're breathtaking,” you whisper in awe.

She flushes under your gaze. “I could say the same for you,” she murmurs, pulling you closer.

Your eyes roam her body, the soft curves and inviting skin, particularly where she's most sensitive. But you've always been one for asking. 

“Can I taste you?” The question leaves your lips, whispered against the skin of her inner thigh, making her shiver.

She responds with a needy, “Yes, please,” and bites her bottom lip, arching her hips slightly, as if laying herself bare for your indulgence.

You don't waste any more time. Shuffling down, you position yourself between her legs, the aromatic scent of her arousal filling your senses. Carefully, you part her folds with your fingers, your tongue darting out to collect the first taste. The first touch of your tongue against her wetness draws a sharp inhale from her, followed by a moan that has your ears burning from how shameless it sounds.

Your tongue swirls around her swollen nub, establishing a pattern that has her thighs clenching around your head. “Fucky, right there,” she groans, her hips thrusting up, eager to meet each glide and flick of your tongue. The wet sounds of your mouth paired with her whimpers urge you to sneak a hand beneath your jeans, seeking relief for your own building tension.

Her hands tighten in your hair, pulling you closer, almost as if she's trying to mold you to her. “More, right there... Oh, god!” she cries out, providing the exact guidance you need.

Amused by her reactions, you intentionally draw out a slurping sound as your tongue dives deeper, making Wanda retreat, but you abandon your own need for release to grab her ass and pull her back to your mouth. 

“Y/N, please, please, I’m—”

“You like that, don't you?” you tease, voice husky with lust. “You sound so pretty when you beg.”

She keens, a desperate sound, her fingers tightening their grip on your hair. You're relentless, enjoying every second of her unraveling, and she's close—so close.

“Are you going to come for me, Wanda?” you growl, lost in the intoxicating taste of her, pressing your tongue deeper, seeking out every intimate spot that makes her body jolt and writhe above you. Her voice breaks into a high-pitched cry, “Y/N! I'm—I'm—” and you feel her climax, her entire body shaking with the force of it, her wetness dripping from your chin down to your throat, drenching you in the process. 

Wanda's gasps fill the space as she shudders, the aftershocks of her orgasm leaving her body trembling. A wicked grin spreads across your face as you take in the sight of her, completely spent and vulnerable. She squirms beneath your mouth, trying to escape the onslaught of sensations. “Too much,” she pants, her voice hoarse.

Ignoring her plea, you continue your ministrations, lips and tongue working in tandem, driving her to the brink once more. As you feel her tensing up, preparing to escape your relentless assault, you slip two fingers inside her, feeling the tight clench of her around you. The unexpected intrusion steals her breath and the fight from her limbs, her resistance melting under your touch.

“You want more, don't you?” you murmur before your lips find her clit again. 

The van is starting to smell like sex. You know you'll have to do something about this later, but for now, you can't bring yourself to care as you take in every detail of the naked girl before you. The pleasure is almost overwhelming for Wanda, teetering on the edge of pain, but she feels another climax building deep inside her.

“Y/N!” she cries, her grip on your hair tightening, her back arching. “I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum!”

You don't stop, doubling your efforts, fingers and tongue working in sync, driving her up and beyond any point she's ever known. Suddenly, there's a gush, wetter and warmer than before, surprising you both. You pull back slightly, and she looks down, mortified. Her face turns a deep shade of red, and she tries to squirm out from beneath you.

“I'm so sorry... I—” Wanda stammers, scrambling to hide her face in her hands.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, a smirk forming on your lips. “Wanda, that was... incredibly hot.”

She looks away, still trying to process what just happened. “I didn’t... I've never...”

Sitting up, you gently cup her face, making her look at you. “Hey, it’s alright,” you say softly, trying to reassure her. “Don't be embarrassed. I'm honored that you felt comfortable enough with me to let go completely.”

She gives a shaky laugh, her fingers lightly tracing circles on your chest. “I can't believe you made me do that on the first try.”

“And I’m extremely lucky to be able to,” you say with a chuckle, gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

She blushes for a moment, then says, “I noticed you didn’t... you know. Do you want me to...?”

“Next time,” you promise, pressing a tender kiss on her forehead. “Right now, I need to make sure this van doesn’t end up as evidence of our... activities.” You wink, earning a soft giggle from her.

“Besides, I have to admit, I thoroughly enjoyed watching you fall apart because of me,” you add, mischievously wetting your lips.

She blushes, playfully swatting at your arm. “You're impossible.”

-

You were the first to step out of the van, offering Wanda a moment of privacy to get dressed. When she finally emerges, she leans on you for support. “I can't feel my legs,” she jokes, struggling a bit. She hands you your jacket which you'd forgotten, helping you slip it on. Immediately, the scent of her hits you, reminding you that she had climaxed twice on that very fabric.

Before you can dwell on the thought, a man approaches Wanda. It’s the same guy from earlier, the one she was arguing with at the bar. You instinctively square your shoulders, ready to step in between them, protectively, but Wanda halts you with a hand on your chest.

“Pietro!” Wanda exclaims, letting out an exasperated sigh as she utters her brother's name. You halt, puzzled.

She knows this guy?

Pietro looks at Wanda, then at you, his eyes narrowing for a moment. “You ready to go, Wanda?” he asks, clearly impatient.

She turns to you, giving you a soft, apologetic smile. “Y/N, this is my brother, Pietro.”

You swallow dryly, offering a somewhat clammy hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Pietro just eyes your hand, perhaps connecting the dots from earlier. Feeling like an idiot, you quickly pull your hand back, subtly rubbing it against your pants. He departs without another word, muttering to Wanda, “I'll be in the car. Don't keep me waiting too long.”

Wanda watches Pietro go, her smile fading a bit. Turning back to you, she takes a deep breath. “Okay, so, about earlier,” she starts, biting her lower lip nervously. “I might have, um... staged that whole fight thing to get your attention. He wasn’t too thrilled about the idea, but he played along.” Her eyes dart to the ground, avoiding your gaze.

You blink, processing her confession. Before you can come up with any coherent response, she giggles at the dumbfounded expression on your face. “I really have to go,” she says.

And then, before you can react, she plants a featherlight kiss on your cheek. The warmth of it lingers on your skin as she steps back, her eyes holding yours for a long, sweet moment.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes glistening under the soft moonlight. “Tonight was... unexpected, but amazing.”

And with that, she turns and hurries off to where Pietro is waiting for her by a parked car. You stand there, feeling the spot on your cheek where her lips touched, watching her until she hops into the car and drives off into the night. It’s only after the car disappears around the bend that you mentally kick yourself for forgetting to ask for her number. With a sigh, you turn back to your van, resigned to cleaning up.

The chill of the night settles in, and when you slip your hands into your jacket pockets, your fingers catch a scrap of paper. It feels out of place, foreign to the usual belongings you stash in there. You pull it out, and to your surprise, it's a receipt. The drinks listed there jog a memory: an alcoholic cocktail offered to you earlier in the night which you politely declined, and the tangy lemonade that followed right after.

Realization dawns on you. Wanda had been orchestrating things all night. You flip the receipt over and your heart skips a beat. Scrawled at the back in a neat, cursive handwriting is her number, accompanied by a simple message: “Call me soon.”

Grinning like a fool, you grab a cloth and some disinfectant from the compartment. Cleaning the back of a van has never felt this satisfying.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #oneshots #wanda maximoff au #yelena belova #kate bishop #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff smut #fic request

[th3-c0rps3-r0gu3]

Natasha: Congratulations, you three have won gold, silver, and bronze in the morons’ Olympics.

Y/n:

Kate:

Yelena:

Y/n: who won gold?

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x you #black widow #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow x reader #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #kate x yelena #kate bishop

[togrowoldinv]

*Y/n finding out everyone knows she’s pregnant*

Y/n: I only told Natasha because she’s my wife!

Natasha: I only told Yelena because she’s my sister.

Yelena: I told Kate because she’s my best friend.

Kate: I just told Clint because he’s like a father to me.

Clint: I told many, many people.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #marvel incorrect quotes #source: mamma mia #yelena belova #kate bishop #clint barton

[its-really-dry]

y/n: *sitting in natasha's lap with their face in her boobs*

tony: *walks in* uhhhhh......... what's going on?

clint: nothing really. y/n just lost energy *continues to read his magazine*

tony: that still doesn't explain the whole *points at nat and y/n*

wanda: oh! think of it as a charging port, but for lesbians

kate: *is sad* i wish i was a lesbian *pouts*

yelena: you are. dumb suka

kate: then where are my booby-chargers?

y/n: *gets off natasha and holds their arms out to kate*

kate: *gets giggly and runs over to y/n*

tony: im not even going to entertain that with a follow up question

#marvel #the avengers #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #the avengers x y/n #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #wanda maximoff #tony stark #yelena belova #kate bishop #kate bishop x fem!reader #kate bishop x reader #clint barton x platonic!reader

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N puts an ice bag on Kate’s face…

Y/N: what happened?

Kate: um…a team of ninjas snuck up on me and I fought them off and-

Yelena: she was trying to do a seductive pose on your table for you and she fell off.

Y/N:

Kate: yeah that’s what happened

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #hawkeye x reader #yelena belova

[unholyhelbig]

Can we have the last chapter of oversight??

Title: The Oversight [Part 7/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 7200

Warnings: Blood, (a lot of blood) Gun violence, childhood trauma, a shoot out, murder, and horrible grammar.

[A/n: This is it!! I wanted to thank everyone so beyond much for sticking with this story. I do suck at endings, so I'm sorry if it doesn't live up to expectations (I'm also writing this after the worst case of covid I've ever had). I'm more than happy to continue reader and Nat's story in some oneshots if you want to request some!]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Sheets of warm spring rain soaked into your clothes. Despite its tepid temperature, you were chilled to the bone. By the time you had taken Ronnie from her car seat in the back and coaxed a drowsy Darcy from the front seat, there was no dry part of you. A light wind had picked up and you were positive that your skin was pale, cold. Your lips are blue and shaking. It felt right to knock.

It was Yelena who answered the door, and she did so sparingly. It was just a crack at first, letting out a stream of golden light that caught the storm in its clutches. Then it was flung open entirely, and you had to squint against the brightness.

Darcy had a good grip on Ronnie’s hand, blinking away the last of her exhaustion as she started into the massive foyer and the house that was built around it. Yelena wore a bubblegum pink robe that was fuzzy. It looked warm. Her collarbone was littered in a smattering of blue and purple bruises. She dragged the two ends together to cover her skin.

“Y/n, it’s late.”

You were well aware of what time it was. This was Yelena’s odd way of asking if you were okay. She stepped to the side and allowed the three of you to enter, sopping wet. That was a good sign. Despite her abrasiveness, Natasha’s sister had more than one soft spot. One was for Kate, another for you, and even a small one for Clint.

“Holy shit…” Darcy whispered.

“It’s impressive, no?”

Yelena frowned, glancing up to the second level. The hall light flicked on, and you knew that Natasha had stirred. You’d awoken the dragon, not something that you were against doing. It felt stupid to have the worry of Ronnie being here in the back of your mind. This was an emergency situation.

Your heart started to pound faster and you shivered into yourself when she appeared at the top of the stairs. There was worry in her fern-colored stare. Why were you there? Why was your misfit family with you? It was late.

None of those questions came with Natasha, however. Instead, she wrapped you in her warm embrace. Your skin was frigid against her own, damp with the brutal attention of the storm. She had no objections to letting you sink into her embrace, wetting her pajamas.

“Dorogaya, chto sluchilos'?”

You pulled back, her fingers still digging into your waist. Yelena had been teaching you Russian, though you only picked up on a few words a time, you understood exactly the tone of her voice. “Carol… she was waiting for me at home.”

A hardness returned to her stare as she glanced at Ronnie who was overly interested in the tile pattern of the floor, and Darcy who was trying to work the pressure from her head with small touches to her nose.

“Did she hurt you?” her voice was a low growl “any of you?”

You shook your head. “Drugged Darcy, but it seems to be wearing off. Ronnie is alright. Carol said she was a friend and shit, Nat, I taught her about stranger danger, but she came straight to the door. I didn’t prepare her for anything like that.”

Yelena had wandered in her silent, cat-like way. She seemed to spawn back into the foyer with warm towels that felt like heaven against your skin. Your fingers were numb along with your emotions. Carol had entered your home. She entered your home.

This fact seemed to sink into Natasha’s bones. While she still held a strong grip on your shoulders there was a certain type of anger that edged through her from top to bottom. A storm brewed behind her eyes and threatened to shatter her cool confidence.

“Lena,” the word broke against her tongue “Will you please take Ronnie and Darcy to a guest room upstairs. I’m sure they’re exhausted.”

There was no objection from any party. You were once again left alone with Natasha, a charged feeling in the air that pulled the two of you together. She pressed her forehead against yours, breath warm on your collarbone.

“I’m going to kill her.”

“Nat,”

“I am. I don’t have another choice. There are clear lines that can’t be crossed and she just cut every single one of them.” Natasha hurriedly pushed strands of wet hair behind your ears, clearing your eyes. “She did this as a statement.”

“And if it’s a trap?”

“It most certainly is, darling, but that won’t stop us from walking into it.”

Very carefully, you thought about your next words, your next actions. It was easy to throw Natasha off, despite her resolute standing when she made a final decision. You felt her body pressed against yours, innate in its comfort and warmth. It would make you ache if she pulled away.

The words came out as a whisper “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

She attempted to step back, but your hands were tight against the silk of her robe. You held her there and she didn’t resist the tension. It was the first time you had really studied your own hands. They were different, entirely so, from those that serviced strangers at the diner.

There were soft bubblegum pink scars on your palms, and harder, darker ones on your knuckles from the countless hours you’d leaned into the pain of each punch. Natasha’s shoulder against the sand-filled bag as she stood against the strength you mustered.

A bruise from the last time you’d entered the shooting range bubbled under the surface of your palm, and it was this that Natasha stared at the hardest as you gripped her with an intensity she had yet to see.

“Did I ever tell you about my second foster father?” You asked, having released your hold, but keeping your hand splayed on her chest. You weren’t sure if you were holding her steady, or yourself. She shook her head. “Deputy Sheriff Edwards. He was a high school quarterback in Minnesota before he blew out his knee and would never let you forget it.

“And mostly… mostly he was a good guy. But, he worked long hours and had a mean streak that would show itself after a beer or two. If he had more, it was worse. He’d stumble in and find one of us kids to go out for shooting practice in the acreage behind the house.”

Natasha swallowed thickly and clenched her eyes shut for a moment. She hadn’t asked you about your familiarity with a gun and considered it a small blessing that you didn’t’ shy away from the weapon. Not only that, but you were quite nearly an expert shot once you got over the nervous familiarization.

“Locking the bedroom door, it worked sometimes, but not always. I had to pick and choose the nights when I wasn’t up for it. Usually in the winter. Minnesota gets cold, below freezing when the sun goes down behind the horizon. So cold that it burns your lungs to breathe, and you have to force your eyes open.

“Deputy Sheriff Edwards, when he couldn’t have me, he would go for my foster brother Andrew. I could hear the pistol going off, over and over again for hours. There was a distinct change in sound when the bullet actually hit the tin cans and it was… that night it was scarce. When you missed- when you missed, he got angrier.”

Natasha let out a shaky breath and pressed her forehead against yours. She was impossibly comforting, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around her and bury your nose in the small of her neck to stave off the cold. But you had to make her understand that you could handle this.

“That night, Andrew missed one too many cans and each shot was pockmarked by a hit to the temple. It was right outside my bedroom window, and the snow, the snow makes everything so much louder.” It was you that pulled in a desperate breath this time, greedy and hungry “a boy can only take so much before he aims the gun at something other than a can and pulls the trigger.”

She had reached up and used her thumb to wipe away a tear you didn’t know you shed, spreading it against your cheek. “Malysh, I can’t bare to put you through more pain.”

“That’s not your choice to make,” you whispered back, reaching up and wrapping your fingers gently around her wrist. “Whether you like it or not, Nat, you’ve spent the last six months training me to be the protector that you’ve needed. It would be a crime not to have me by your side through this, after she came into my home and threatened my family. This anger, this rage, will do nothing but serve us.”

Natasha let out a watery chuckle, “alright, Summer Sentient, stay on my six.”

There was a shed at the edge of Natasha’s large property that you rarely entered. There were too many memories attached to the location. The first time you had opened the door and clocked the coloring of the floor and the coolness of the structure, you knew that it wasn’t a place you wanted to return often.

When you had first stirred months ago with your arms tied behind your back, your mouth fuzzy and tasting of blood- it was here that they had taken you. Through your exhaustive haze, you figured it was a larger place, a storage unit or even an airplane hanger at the edge of a runway. Instead, it was a simple one-room shed that was kept ice cold and made to look infinite through mental manipulation and large intense lights.

Kate Bishop seemed to sense your simple unease and moved to help your fumbling fingers with the gun holster that was secured around your chest. Like always, Natasha organized a united front and a pep talk before going into a situation that none of you could truly prepare for.

“It’s going to be okay, you know” Kate murmured after she fastened the buckle, clapping you on the shoulder. Her eyes lingered on Natasha, on Yelena as the two of them spoke in hushed voices near a small counter that you hadn’t realized was there in the dark.

“Am I that easy to read?”

“Like an open book. It’s obvious how much you care for one another, and nothing is obvious with this family.” Kate moved to the other side of you, you tracked her with your eyes. Clint, in turn, watched the two of you interact from his perched spot near the far wall. “It took two years for Yelena to show any type of affection towards me.”

“Jesus Christ, I know she’s stoic, but shit.”

“Shit is right. I was head over heels for her within the first week. Mind you, I was suffering severe trauma and thrown into something much beyond myself. But I chipped away at her overtime, wore her down until she was comfortable enough telling me what she feels. But with the Romanoff’s, it’s not just about what they feel. It’s how they feel.”

You lifted both of your eyebrows at her. Kate handed you the jacket that was draped over a nearby chair, you toyed with it in your hands, moved your fingers over the brass buttons. It was much too warm in here to put on yet.

“Natasha is one of the scariest people I have ever met and It’s not because of her dripping ledger. It has everything to do with how much she cares. And she cares about you, y/n. It’s why she’s so reluctant to bring you along to something like this. To the end.”

“Thank you, Kate. For leading me through all of this.”

“Anytime, y/n. Can’t have you dying on us, can we?”

The plan was simple; there was no plan. A deal was supposed to met in a quick and clean way. Much like the restaurant, Natasha just needed you to simply be there to back her up. There was neutral ground at the edge of the shipyard that was far away enough from the unassuming population. Carol had agreed to meet there; tentatively.

There was something so civil and political about a business that was saturated in black sticky blood. You had a jarring feeling that tonight would be it for you, the moment of no return. Once you entered in a united front behind Natasha, your life would never be the same.

You didn’t want it to be.

Natasha Romanoff drove you absolutely wild, but had a way of calming that storm all the same. Though she’d never allow it, you would take bullets for her. But, you’d also take bullets for the little girl that you struggled to confront now.

The leather binding against your chest suddenly felt too stuffy. You’d often hid it behind the guise of a jacket or slid it into your glovebox before you trudged up the rickety stairs to your apartment. Now it was hugged as tightly as Kate could get it, pinching the fabric of your shirt.

Ronnie had looked up from the book she’d curled up with at the end of the sofa. She stared at it with quiet eyes. Everything she did was quiet but this time it felt more judge mental than usual. Natasha sidled up behind you, one ringed hand pressing calmly into the small of your back.

“Remember what I told you on the Ferris Wheel?” Natasha asked.

“She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

“Mm,” Natasha gave you a soft kiss behind your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I know that look. She wants to talk.”

The mafia boss gave you a little shove forward before making herself comfortable leaning against the doorframe that you had just vacated. She was begrudgingly right. Veronica had scooted over deliberately and given you room next to her.

Ronnie allowed you to get comfortable next to her, running her small fingers over the leather of the holster. You stopped her before she could reach the sheathed weapon, gently lowering both of your hands to your lap.

“Natasha?”

The woman stood up straighter, looking into the expectant eyes of your daughter. She patted the empty seat on the other side of her and you watched as your girlfriend struggled not to flounder under the weight of the request. Eventually she joined the two of you on the couch, nervously twisting the closest ring around her finger.

“I’m not stupid” Ronnie said.

You frowned “No one said you were stupid, baby.”

Your daughter was glowering at you. It took years to read her facial expressions, but the one that was on her features now was loud and clear. “You can’t come home with bruises like that and expect me not to notice.”

You blinked at her dumbly. Yes, kids were perceptive, Ronnie more than others. But no part of you wanted to expose you to the life you’d been thrown in. Guilt was weighing down Natasha’s shoulders, she glanced at you sheepishly.

“You weren’t supposed to join the mob. I know why you did it, though.”

Good god, she was smart. Smarter than you’d ever give her credit for. Everyone wants to believe that their child is special but there was a certain pride in your chest that rivaled your fear. She pulled her little hand from yours and placed it on the spine of the book.

She seemed to lose interest in you altogether and turned her attention to Natasha. “Don’t let her get hurt.”

“I…Are you giving me the shovel talk?”

“I don’t know what that means, just make sure my mom’s okay.”

Natasha swallowed the dryness in her mouth, it was nearly audible. “You don’t have to worry about that, kid. I promise.”

There was an innate fear coiled in the center of your stomach, and the cacophony of footfalls against weathered docks did nothing to ease your pitfall of feelings. Clint towered over you in height, walking with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets to ward off the chill of the summer wind.

Kate and Yelena stalked behind you both, their shoulders hunched, their conversation a hushed whisper. Six docks altogether led into one hexagon platform, that at one point, must have held a fair much like the one you attended in the early summer.

From the other stretch of docking came five others. Their silhouettes were fuzzy, black against the night sky. Carol held herself with a confidence that rivaled Natasha’s. You could make out Monica amongst the crowd, a man that you’d seen around town that you were sure went by the name Fury; particular to his deeply embedded rage.

A circle of wood in the center of the land stood between the two groups like a buffer. Hands were on guns, puffs of air streaming into the lone portlights drilled into soft wood. The scent of the sea itself seemed to assuage you into flexing your fingers, the salt in the air made everything feel filmy and frigid.

It was Carol who spoke first. Her voice was carried by the wind. “I must admit, I didn’t expect you to call a meeting like this.”

“You violate my trust as if it’s nothing Miss Danvers. It’s clear you wanted to invoke something other than a slap on the wrist.”

“Well, there’s been talk around town that you’ve become smitten with your little pet project. Forgive me for wanting to test the theory myself. If the big bad Romanoff sisters are going soft, don’t you think I should know about it?”

Yelena shifted behind you and in turn, so did Monica. No one reached for their weapon, though you itched from the inside out. Natasha even lift an eyebrow at the statement.

“You wanted to discuss the Maroni property. I’m willing to sell, but only with the proper conditions.”

Clint had sat you down a few weeks after your first excursion. The two of you sat at the end of the very diner that you had quit. You never really tried the food but could stomach the fries- even admit to yourself that they were the best in town for their price point. The Maroni property was nothing more than a vacant lot, but it held more than that. It would make Carol the owner of 60% of the town instead of the meager 50% that split everything equally.

If there was any objection to her offer, no one would show it. Peace of mind would not be worth giving up her hold, but you were. Yelena could kick her frustrations out at home later, Clint and Kate were none the wiser to do anything but trust blindly; and you were right there with them.

“And what conditions are those?”

“The same conditions our parents have abided by all these years. There’s an honor in what we do and what we control and when you start crossing lines like the ones you did last night, you pour gasoline on an already raging fire.”

Carol tasked and took a step forward. This time the handle of your gun was in your palm. You held your stance. “So poetic, Natasha. You have been since grade school. I’ll take the land, but you’re mistaken if you think I’ll pay full price.”

Natasha clenched her jaw, her eyes darting to the rolling darkness of the sea. The waves were crashing violently against the wooden support beams. There were whitecaps miles from the shore and a storm was brewing that you could almost taste.

“Seventy-five. I won’t go any lower.”

“Alright, Seventy-five.”

Carol stuck her hand out over the circular center of the docks. It was a show of good faith, but your palm grew slick with sweat. You watched her with more care than you ever have before. Clint was rigid with tension, and you could practically hear Kate breathe nervously behind you.

Eventually, Natasha took the woman’s hand. She held it for a moment before leaning closer, whispering something that you couldn’t’ hear over the screeching of the waves. You could, however, see Carols face shaded by the port lights. The golden yellow color enveloped the stark coldness in her stare, the anger that flashed behind hazel irises.

When the gunshot sounded, Natasha’s back was to Carol and those who flanked her sides. It was such a quiet and muted sound that made your ears ring, but it was also a familiar sound. One that flashed back to that snowy night in Minnesota, the spray of pulpy blood on the startlingly white snow.

When Andrew had pulled the trigger, he looked Sheriff Deputy Edwards in the eyes and you had always wondered if the fear cut through the haze of alcohol that night. The split second where the bullet left the chamber, was there penance to be made? He’d dropped to his knees and let out a choking sound that you heard through the paned glass windows.        

There wasn’t a wall of insulation, and wood, and glass to garble the sound of the gunshot that rang out tonight. The waves seemed to swallow up your own scream and the commotion that stretched into being.

Carol had waited until Natasha broke the handshake and turned away before she fired her weapon. Something so strong and ever-present was dropped to the sun-bleached wood in a matter of moments. Natasha didn’t make a sound.

“Get down!” Clint yelled next to you.

You caught the anger in Monica’s stare, the way that Carol had moved her target from Natasha, directly to you. At this specific point, with Natasha crumpled at your feet and the woman who had pulled the trigger sneering at you, was when something snapped within you.

A good shot, you had always been a good shot. Not only that, but you’d been efficient too. Clint had given up trying to drag you away and instead made quick work of those that were backing Carol. Kate and Yelena were gone; in the throws of darkness, into hand to hand combat. It left you alone with the woman that made everyone cower in fear.

Natasha’s blood had sopped onto your shoes. Tears threatened to well up in your eyes. She wasn’t breathing. You couldn’t tell if she was breathing. She had curled into herself and hidden her face from you and while you wanted to pull her into your arms at this very moment; that wasn’t possible.

An ongoing war was raging around you. Gunfire and screaming, and oddly enough, the pungent scent of fire. Carol watched, confident in her protection. She smiled at you, a wolfish and inhuman grin.

“Now, you can’t tell me this hasn’t changed your perspective.” She said, sweeping her arms out as if this were her kingdom- as if this chaos, this reign of gunfire and screams amongst the people you loved, was what she wanted all along.

“It has,” you raised your gun, pointing it directly to her chest. To her credit, she didn’t flinch. “I just watched you shoot a woman in the back. What’s noble about that?”

She cackled “Noble? That’s the problem with you Romanoff’s, there is nothing noble about this business. To win, you have to play dirty. To win you can’t be afraid to take what you want, and I can’t exactly do that through handshakes and good will. Can I?”

“I suppose not, but how are they supposed to trust you, hm? All of those you’ve promised the world to, the ones fighting for your wellbeing as we speak?”

“I would never betray them.”

“Oh, now, I don’t believe that.”

She frowned at you and readjusted her hold on her gun. In any other world, she would have fired her gun by now, but there was something deep within Carol that had been curious about you. About how Natasha seemed to soften around your presence. Still, she didn’t understand, but she wanted it all the same.

Her finger adjusted on the trigger. You watched every movement she made. There was another, calmer, war in her mind. She could kill you right here if she wanted to, but you couldn’t tell if she did or not.

Natasha let out a wounded noise at your feet; a wet choking sound as she struggled to pull air into her lungs. Carol lifted both eyebrows and glanced down at her. “You can save her or kill me. I don’t think you’re quick enough to do both.”

Kate let out a guttural scream from further down the dock that was followed by two more blows and flashes from a gun. Most of Carols lackeys had been incapacitated in one way or another. You clocked Clint’s trembling form as he kneeled between two dark masses. You couldn’t see Yelena, couldn’t’ even hear her, but she leaned into her silence, her rage.

By the time your eyes had met with Carol’s once more, she had made her choice. She pressed further down on the trigger, and in your blind edge of confidence you fired first. Both bullets were aimed at her stomach, and both hit their mark before her single shot found it’s way to your shoulder.

The pain shot through your arm, down the numbness of your fingers. A deep sound escaped the back of your throat. The force of the blast nearly brought you to your knees. Nearly. You’d felt the heat of the bullet rip through the gore of your shoulder- enter and exit in a clean way that would hiss in pain later, but it was no match for the adrenaline.

Carol let out a groan, one that bubbled with pain. You kicked her weapon away from her, letting it slide against the wooden dock. She blinked up at you dumbly, her hands pressing against the slowly growing crimson spot in the center of her stomach.

The color dripped from the wound on your shoulder, over the silver of the casing. A singular drop of red succumbed to the pull of gravity and landed against the smooth expanse of Carol’s collarbone. When she grinned, her teeth were stained with rust.

“Tell me, Carol, what do you see?” You pulled back the hammer, ignoring her sloppy chuckles and the frothy blood that foamed past her lips. “A broken waitress, or a trained killer?”

“Now you’re getting it…” she swallowed thickly, trying to quell the pain “It’s all about perspective.”

You pulled the trigger for a third, and final time that night. You were so trusting in your aim that you refused to look when you administered the final blow. Her head dropped to the side, the bullet finding it’s way right between her eyes.

Silence seemed to fall over the docks. You could hear the crashing of the waves and the seagulls that circled above at the scent of shed blood. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and the gun you wielded was dropped to the dock.

She’d been killed so easily. This big, hulking demon that loomed over the town, and over your life. It took nothing but a rage-filled trigger pull to end it all. Your heart was in your throat, blood rushing past your ears.

And then there was Natasha.

Natasha had shifted onto her back, her hand outstretched in your direction. You could hear the painful wheeze in each breath. Her skin was pale, a bloom of red at the corner of her lip. You wanted to kiss it away, to pull her as close as possible, but you were afraid to move her.

Your knees dug into the coarse wood, your palm finding purchase on her cheek. “Nat, baby, I need you to stay awake, okay?”

“The stars, you can see them so well out here.”

You frowned, glancing up at the velvety blue sky. The constellations were bright, making little pictures of lions, and archers, and long stretches of water. It was hard to see them with the perpetual glow of the city. But out here, just like the mansion, they made a map.

“Yeah, baby, you can.” You reached blindly for her hand. It was cold. “You can’t go to sleep. Just keep looking at the stars, for me. Clint! Lena!”

Your voice broke on the second call. Your face was damp with tears as you kept track of Natasha’s stunted breathing, and the tight grip she still held you with. She refused to let you go, and you did the same, pressing the warmth of your lips to her white knuckles.

Yelena was by your side. She was pale and shaking herself. There was a gash above her eye, dripping blood and drying against her cheek. There was a split in her lip, a forming bruise under her chin and against the length of her neck.

“ne ostavlyay menya, sestra. Ty sil'neye etogo. Drat'sya.”

“Should we call an ambulance?”

“No, no hospital.” Yelena shook her head “we do this on our own, just like we always have.”

Your fingers were caked in blood, a dried brown color that was ugly against the beauty of your shared bedroom with Natasha. You wanted to scrub them clean, watch as the water was tinted a toxic orange before it circled the drain, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

A glass of water was set on the small table next to you, and you fought back the urge to startle. You hadn’t heard anyone enter. There was a familiar spiced scent to Darcy that you picked up on before registering her presence. She nudged the glass closer to you and lowered herself into the other chair.

“You should really let Yelena look at that shoulder.” She said.

“It’s fine.”

You picked up the glass and considered swallowing down some of the room temperature water, but thought better of it. You held onto it because you could. It grounded you, the cloudy glass stained with coppery fingerprints.

“The news… they’re saying that a wealthy businesswoman snapped. Allegedly, she lured her employees down to the docks and killed them all before turning the gun on herself.”

“Tragic.” This time you did take a swallow of the water before setting it on the table.

Darcy watched you carefully. She wasn’t being judgmental, or at least, that’s what you wanted to believe. Her eyes were still darkened with exhaustion but filled with a deep kind of worry. She hesitated, moving to put her hand on your knee, but thinking better of it.

Instead, she directed her attention to Natasha’s unconscious form on the bed. Yelena had called in a private doctor, stubborn in her efforts. He worked mostly alone, and had hushed conversation with those in the room that could comprehend better than you could in your fuzzy state.

Kate had attempted to patch you up, but you pulled away with enough intensity for her to focus on licking her own wounds. Natasha was stable, she was alive. They weren’t sure if she would make it through the night- but you’d remain by her side until they were sure.

“I can’t lose her,”

The admission was whispered and shattered. You didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility of Natasha not pulling through. She was the first person you’d met in years that not only accepted you, but pushed you to be a better version of yourself. She had a softness for Ronnie, a commanding nature to her presence.

 Darcy cracked a small smile, “leave it to you to fall in love with a loan shark that has a pension for bullets. Something tells me that’s she’s more stubborn than even you. And if that’s the case, then she’ll make it.”

You reached out and grasped Darcy’s hand, allowing her to ground you. Pain ripped through your shoulder, the bandage that you had allowed Kate to apply was dotted with the wounds efforts to gush. Still, you squeezed as hard as you could manage, listening to the heart monitor that hummed in time with the grandfather clock in the corner.

She stayed with you while you fought to stave off sleep. At one point, Clint came in with a tray of food that lay mostly untouched on the dresser. Your eyes burned as you stared at the simple rise and fall of her chest, both feet planted on the floor.

Sixteen hours had passed. You’d paced the room, and at one point, finally allowed someone to address your wounds. It throbbed in time with your heart, which in-turn, mirrored Natasha’s. It was hour twenty when you saw any sign of life, and you nearly missed it, the fluttering of her eyes as they adjusted to the sun streaming into the room.

You’d rolled your head back, trying to quell the stiffness of your neck, the hushed growl escaped your lips. “Oh… fuck.”

“That’s a beautiful sound.”

To hell with your aching body. Natasha’s voice was so meek that you’d nearly missed it altogether. You were treated with a startling blast of green color. She stared at you inquisitively, trying to prop herself up on her elbows. You were quicker than her in this state, using your palm against her chest to gently force her back onto the mattress.

“Don’t try to move,”

“I don’t do well with orders, y/n.”

“God damn it, I know.”

She gave you a small smile at this, but allowed you to coax her back into a laying position. She let out a protest of pain as you placed your ear flush against her chest, assuring that this was real, that her heart was beating strong and consistently. And it was, it really was.

Natasha chuckled, and worked her hand through your hair. “It’s okay, Zaychik. I’m alright.”

“Nat, you were shot in the back twice. It’s going to be a long road to recovery. You’re lucky that it didn’t shatter your spine, hell you could have lost the ability to walk altogether-“

She cut you off, grabbing your chin and leading your lips to hers. She tasted of blood, of the slightest bit of antiseptic and artificial cherries. She tasted like home. You fretted to pull away, knowing that she had kissed you to ultimately shut you up, but really, did that matter?

Natasha frowned into the kiss and pulled away, her fingers had found the bandage on your shoulder, running across the cross section where your skin met gauze. “You’re hurt. She hurt you.”

“She got a good shot in but had terrible aim. Nothing but a flesh wound.”

“Flesh wounds can be dangerous, Malysh.”

“Mm, so they can.” A few moments passed, your forehead pressed against hers, happy to be in her presence. “What did you say to Carol… right before she…”

Natasha let out a deep sigh and winced at the exhalation. She laid her head on the pillow and glowered at the painted ceiling above you both. You remembered staring up at it after Natasha had exhausted you on more than one occasion. Right now, she was trying to find the words, just like you had tried so desperately to find your solace.

“I threatened her family the way she threatened mine. I thought better of her, I suppose, than to shoot a woman in the back. Though, I would have done the same with the threats I laid out. I just needed to be sure that she wouldn’t… couldn’t hurt you… Ronnie.”

“You don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“Maybe not the Danvers family, but there are more just lurking in the shadows waiting for their chance to swoop in. They’re scared now, I’m sure. But fear only goes so far.”

“I’m in this for the long haul, if you’ll have me, of course.” You tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, careful of her wounds. “I don’t care if it’s the Russo’s, or the Sarkissian’s, or any other psycho family that tries to take your power away from you. They’ll have to go through me.”

Natasha chuckled, “Alright, quickdraw, don’t get too cocky. We’ll lay low for a little bit. Heal. Then we can talk about the future.”

Somehow, that was enough for you. Natasha waking up, speaking and smiling, and laughing would always be enough for you.

“Drop the gun,” Kate’s voice was shaking, her hands outstretching in front of her in the ultimate sign of surrender. She looked vulnerable, the sun beating down on her shoulders and her stormy eyes catching the reflection of the water. “I’m unarmed, this isn’t cool, man.”

Her protests didn’t’ seem to matter one bit. Cooper pumped the front end of his gun and aimed the ice cold water directly at Kate’s stomach. His action was a silent call to the brigade of children that ascended on her; some carrying water guns like Coop, and others nailing her with neon colored balloons.

“Ah, the inhumanity!” She fell to the grass, scooping Ronnie up in the process. “Shield me, kid!”

You watched the girl with fondness, fighting back until the end. Clint chuckled behind you, flipping the burgers that had browned evenly on one side. The scent was intoxicating, and though you wouldn’t’ admit your hunger outright; your mouth was watering.

Yelena had ascended on the situation, taking a super soaker and dousing the clan that was attacking, and winning, Kate. She tucked Ronnie under her arm like a football and started to dash away towards the fence, out of earshot.

Clint’s wife, Laura, was pouring a glass of lemonade for Darcy. The two of them watched the scene from poolside chairs with as much amusement as you carried. They spoke with smiles on their faces, cheeks flushed from the heat of the day.

Warm arms wrapped around your midsection, a chin resting on your shoulder. The scent of sunscreen filled your lungs. You had always felt innate safety in Natasha’s embrace. She kissed behind your ear once, and then the side of your neck.

“She’s good with them.” Natasha purred.

“I think it’s because she’s a kid at heart.”

“And you let her protect your assets?” Clint tsked as he loaded the burgers onto a nearby plate. “Seriously, without Yelena training her I never would have taken the safety off her gun.”

“I can hear you!” Kate called back, shifting Ronnie to her other hip. “They are being so rude. I’m more than capable of being a degenerate.”

“Degenerate,” Yelena scoffed “Kate Bishop, you’ve invented the word.”

You shook your head, turning in Natasha’s arms before you draped your own over her shoulders. She wore that same black bikini that she had on when she proclaimed your new rank in her little empire. It seemed so long ago- and she was certainly marred with new markings to prove this. Your fingers tracing gently over the healed scars on her stomach.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips against hers, “Thank you for this.”

“Mm,” She hummed into the embrace “For what, detka?”

You deepened the embrace, whispering against her “resolution.”  

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#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanov x reader #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Kate Bishop #Clint Barton #Yelena Belova #Katelena #Marvel #Mafia au

[gfmaximoff]

Yelena: It’s really frustrating.

Kate: What is it?

Yelena: Watching Y/N openly flirt with Wanda and Wanda not realizing it.

Kate, wearing a "Date Me Yelena Pls" shirt: Haha yeah, she's so oblivious.

#avengers #incorrect mcu quotes #marvel incorrect quotes #avengers incorrect quotes #gfmaximoff #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #bishova #bishlova #yelena x kate

[incorrectquotesmcu]

Yelena: You bought a taco?

Y/N: Yeah.

Yelena: From the truck that hit Kate?

Y/N: Well me starving isn’t going to help her.

#source: icarly #yelena belova #yelena belova incorrect quotes #black widow #kate bishop #yelena belova x reader #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel #avengers #avengers incorrect quotes

[rxmqnova]

Kate: You know, Natasha gives Y/N flowers everyday. I wish you'd do that too.

Yelena: Okay.

*later*

Yelena: *gives Y/N flowers*

Y/N: ???

Yelena: I don't know, I'm confused as well.

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[natsarrownecklacx]

Birthday Gift

Y/n: “I really want a girlfriend so I can dress up all nice for her and spoil her for her birthday.”

Yelena: “Like put on a nice dress and take her out for dinner?”

Y/n: “Well, yes. But also dress up in a maid or bunny outfit for her, at home, just to make it special, you know?”

Wanda: *Popping up from no where.* “ME!! ME!! YOU CAN DO THAT FOR ME!!”

Wanda: *Clears throat* “It’s eh- my birthday soon y/n you can- we can do that together. You know, only if you want to.”

Y/n: *Blushing.* “Sure, Wands. I can dress up all nice for you. Consider it part of your birthday gift.”

Wanda: *Beaming* “Okay, good good. Sounds good.”

Yelena: *Talking to Kate.* “Isn’t her birthday in five months?”

Kate: “Hush, Lena. They’ve been pining over each other for ages. This is progress!”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x y/n #yelena belova x platonic!reader #Kate bishop x platonic!reader #yelena belova x kate bishop