There was a dead man sitting in his chambers.
Verin Thelyss blinked at the sight of his older brother, very much alive and sitting on his sofa. Before he could react, his brother - his martyred, brilliant brother - said softly, “I’m getting married.”
Verin froze. “Is this some sort of cruel joke?” he asked. “Essek died five years ago. Lost to the depths of Aeor.”
The sharpness of grief was still surprising - he hadn’t expected to feel it, not when he received the news and definitely not five years down the line. He and Essek had always had a complicated relationship, forged on their mutual understanding as new souls but having followed very different paths. Essek had always been cold, untouchable, and somewhat callous, yet losing him had felt like a piece of himself had vanished from the world as well. Who was Verin Thelyss, without his older brother to measure himself by?
“Have you ever known me to have a sense of humor?” the man who looked like Essek asked with a wry twist of his mouth. He was laughing at him; Verin could see it in his eyes. This, above all else, convinced him that this had to be an imposter.
“Whatever illusion you’re weaving, it’s not going to work,” Verin said, hand on the hilt of his sword as he circled to face this strange specter in his chambers. “There are few people low enough to impersonate a dead man, much less an unconsecuted one who will never return. Show your true face.”
Something on the imposter’s face twitched slightly. “Oh,” he said softly, “so the cat is out of the bag, so to speak?”
Verin narrowed his eyes at the foreign idiom and cast a third-level Dispel Magic in the direction of the man in front of him. The image of Essek didn’t even flicker. Undead? A quick Divine Sense revealed no sign of anything undead within sixty feet, which eliminated two of Verin’s best hypotheses for what was going on in front of him.
There were other ways to impersonate another. Verin drew his sword, eyes narrowed; ‘Essek’ watched him do so, but made no move to get up from the sofa or defend himself.
“Who are you, in here impersonating my dead brother?” Verin demanded.
‘Essek’ sighed heavily and massaged his temples as though he had a headache. “I told him it was not going to be this easy,” he muttered to himself. Verin wasn’t sure who ‘he’ was, but it certainly was not going to be so easy to pull one over on the Taskhand of the Bright Queen, no matter whose face someone wore.
“I’m two seconds from calling for backup and taking you prisoner,” he snapped.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” a soft voice spoke in Common.
Verin whirled around to the entrance to his small bedroom. Leaning against the door frame, looking out at the rest of the suite, was a red-haired human, handsome but tired-looking.
“Dwendalian agents? I should have known.”
“For the Luxon’s sake,” the Essek imposter muttered.
“Your brother did not die in Aeor, years ago,” the human said, his Common accented with an unfamiliar cadence. “You were told that he was killed in order to protect him, but he is very much alive.”
Verin frowned. He glanced between the two again. Something about the red-haired human was familiar, like he’d heard something about him in the past. A famous mage from the Empire, perhaps? Or a traveler in Xhorhas? He rifled through his memory, trying to place the image.
“When you were 32 and I was 40,” ‘Essek’ said with a glance at his companion, “we had such a terrible fight that we both used our magic against one another for the first and only time. The Umavi was furious, and demanded to know why, and we told her it was to prove our skills and loyalty to the Dynasty.”
This was a story not many knew. Verin’s ears twitched, his curiosity piqued.
Essek continued. “But what no one knows but you – and I – is that the fight started because you took my favorite ear-cuff and broke it.” As he relayed this story, the red-haired man’s mouth twitched like he wanted to smile.
Verin felt the blood drain from his face. “How could you have known that story?” he demanded. “No one knows that story.”
“Your brother does,” said Essek, the real Essek, living, breathing, and standing before him. Verin lowered his sword and stared at him, stunned. “I’m alive, Verin. It is…good to see you.”
Now that he believed him, it was obvious that the Essek in front of him was not the Essek he’d known – a person using an illusion would have taken the form of the perfectly-coiffed Shadowhand, elaborate mantle and all. The man in front of him looked nothing like the Essek he remembered – he still sat with his spine straight, and his ears were still adorned with all manner of jewelry, but he wore simple adventurer’s clothes, his hair was longer, and he looked…happy?
Verin quickly sheathed his sword before rushing to Essek and enveloping him in a hug.
“Don’t ever tell anyone this was my reaction,” he whispered fiercely into the crook of his older brother’s neck, trying desperately not to cry and failing miserably. “I’m not happy to see you. I’m just—”
Essek’s arms came around him, and he held him softly as Verin pretended not to cry into his shoulder. When Verin pulled away, the rollercoaster of surprises continued – Essek was crying as well.
In over a century of their shared existence, Verin had never seen Essek cry once, not even as a child.
As Verin stood again and backed away to give himself space, the human circled around them slowly and seated himself next to Essek. The two of them held a conversation with their eyes alone as Verin attempted to compose himself.
“Why are you here?” he finally asked once he was back to himself. “Why would you risk – everything – to come here? To see me?”
Essek glanced at the human. “I’m getting married,” he said again, reaching over and taking the man’s hand. “Although it is customary for all the senior members of my Den to be present, it was decided that it would be…unwise…to reveal my situation to the Umavi.”
Verin gave a snort. Their mother would have had a fit and then immediately turned Essek over to the Bright Queen for abandoning his post, and they both knew it.
“There is only one member of my Den who I trust enough to invite,” Essek continued, and Verin blinked in surprise. Who was that? Wait…him?!
“Me?” he said incredulously. “You trust me?” He was not going to cry again, but he could feel the emotion building in his throat. “We’ve never gotten along, Essek.”
Essek smiled fondly. “This is true. And yet, you are the most trustworthy man I know in the Dynasty. You do what you think is right, and you care not for what the Bright Queen or court will say about it.” He glanced around at the sparse furnishings of Verin’s suite in Bazzoxan. “Unfortunately, the Dynasty does not reward loyalty and honesty as it should.”
This was the Essek he knew. “I may not be a Shadowhand of the Bright Queen,” he snapped, “but it is a tremendous honor to be trusted with the command of this garrison as a new soul, at my young age.”
Essek sighed. “That wasn’t meant to be an insult, Verin,” he said, sounding tired. “You are…better, than the rest of them.”
“How do you know I won’t take this information to the Umavi and the Bright Queen right now?” Verin demanded. “You praise my loyalty - yet by revealing yourself, you put that same loyalty into jeopardy.”
“Must we get into Court politics today?” Essek asked, a familiar aloof expression crossing his face. “I have no control over what you do. Reveal me to the Bright Queen and the Umavi if you wish.”
The human sighed heavily. “What Essek means to say,” he said in Common, although clearly he was following the conversation in Undercommon – had Essek taught him their language? “is that he trusts your sense of loyalty to doing what is right over your loyalty to the Dynasty.”
For the first time, Verin studied the human man who had won his brother’s rare affection. “You are his intended,” he said.
“Yes. I am Caleb Widogast,” the man said with a nod. That was a name Verin knew well.
“Of the Mighty Nein?” Although the Nein had only been friends of the Dynasty briefly, they had done more for the Kryn than any other group of outsiders; they were practically household names, by that point. It all became a lot clearer, in hindsight. “You were in Aeor with the Mighty Nein when you ‘died’,” Verin added, looking at Essek.
“I was,” Essek confirmed, spreading his hands wide in an expression of openness. “As you can see, I did not die. I simply…did not return.”
“Essek is one of the Mighty Nein as well, now,” Widogast told Verin.
Verin stood and began pacing. “You threw away everything to join a group of mercenaries?!” he asked. “You had the Umavi’s favor. You were a dunamantic prodigy. You were respected in Court, elevated far beyond your years, and the only new soul to directly serve the Bright Queen herself—”
“I was miserable,” Essek interrupted, more feeling in his voice than Verin had ever heard before. “None of those things meant anything to me. I had not even realized how…empty my life had become, until I met the Nein.”
It was a startling thing, to have envied his brother for so long for something Essek hadn’t even wanted. The realization shook him, leaving him off-kilter.
“And now you’re getting married,” he said, glancing at Widogast again. He supposed he was handsome, for a human, his bright hair quite striking. Good cheekbones. “To a human?”
Essek’s face grew guarded. “I am getting married,” he said, chin high, “to the only person who has understood me at such a deep level that it is like our souls are made of the same essence.” He glanced at Widogast again, their eyes meeting, and gave a smile that Verin could only describe as sappy.
Oh good, something new to envy Essek about, Verin thought as he watched him exchange fond looks with his fiancé. Somehow, his brother always managed to land on his feet.
“Essek would like you to be there,” Widogast said, squeezing Essek’s hand as though trying to reassure him; Verin wasn’t sure he liked the idea that Essek needed to be reassured that this invitation was welcome. “As the representative of his Den.”
“And as my brother,” Essek added softly.
Verin studied this new, strange Essek in front of him, the fragile hope that seemed to encompass him, the gentle happiness that embodied his entire self. For the first time, he realized that the Essek he’d known had always been deeply unhappy and lonely, and that was the reason for his coldness, his callousness. This was what his brother was like with friends, with love in his life? What an incredible transformation.
“Of course, I will attend,” said Verin. “I would never miss such an event.”
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Sing Me a Song
“You Geralt of Rivia’s bard?”
Jaskier looks up from his notepad and grins at the man who’s just sat at the opposite side of the table.
“Technically, I used to be,” the bard says, taking a sip of his ale. “We had a tiny misunderstanding last year. I’m sure he’s gonna be fine, though, I’m just giving him some time to cool down and wallow in self-pity.”
Jaskier frowns, because his brain has finally caught up with his mouth and informs him that even though the man who asked the question is very pretty (and he is – a bit short, but lean and clearly very agile, brown-skinned, with dark, wavy hair and stunningly unnatural green eyes), he also has got two big, scary swords strapped to his back, way too many scars and has, in fact, only one green eye, the other being covered by an eye patch, presumably missing.
And then there’s the Cat school medallion on his chest.
As Geralt would say… fuck.
“Unless you’re here to kidnap me and torture me to lure him into a trap. If that’s the case, I’ve never met a Geralt of Rivia in my life. Also, if you harm a hair on my head, he will hunt you down and kill you, very slowly and painfully. Just a heads up,” Jaskier smiles, utterly failing to sound at least a little bit threatening.
“Thanks for the warning,” the Witcher laughs. “But I actually need you to write me a song.”
“Sorry, I’m afraid this bard already has a Witcher to praise,” Jaskier protests, shaking his head firmly.
“Ugh. Who says I want praise?” the man says, making a face. “I just can’t seem to find a friend of mine, so I need to make him find me.”
“With a song? Do I look like a fucking pied piper?” Jaskier smirks.
“A little, yeah.”
“Fair enough. What’s in it for me?”
“What do you think is going to happen once Geralt hears that his bard has found himself a new muse?” the Witcher grins.
“Oh,” Jaskier says, chuckling. “Oh, but that’s good.”
“Are you in, then?”
“Absolutely. And, uhm… What did you say your name was?”
“By the gods, where are my manners?” the Witcher laughs. “I’m Aiden.”
Geralt places two tankards of ale on the table and sits down with a grunt.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting old, Wolf,” his brother Lambert smirks and promptly pulls one of the tankards closer. “Because that almost sounded like Vesemir when he’s trying to get up from his chair.”
“You’re so fucking funny,” Geralt murmurs.
“I know, right?” Lambert grins, tucking a strand of curly red hair behind his ear. “So, how’s life on the Path without your beloved bard?”
“Not my bard.”
“So pretty fucking terrible, eh?” Lambert chuckles.
“Fuck off, Lambert.”
“You’re being very nice and friendly today, you know?”
“I bought you a drink. So shut up and… drink.”
Lambert shrugs and for once does what he’s told. Within a few seconds, half of the tankard’s content vanishes.
“If it’s any consolation, life without my Cat is also pretty fucking unbearable,” he says then.
“Oh, really, Geralt? You’re using your famous hm against me? Me, your brother?!”
“By the gods… Why can’t I just run into Eskel for once? Why does it always have to be you?”
“You’re just lucky, I guess.”
Lambert rolls his eyes and focuses on his ale again – until the local bard grabs his lute and starts playing a slow, romantic ballad. Lambert growls.
“Fuck, I hate that song!”
“Why?” Geralt blinks, because he’s never heard the song before, and to be perfectly honest, it doesn’t really sound that bad.
“A brown-skinned woman with dark hair who’s seemingly killed, then comes back to life already plotting her revenge, only to find out that her lover’s already avenged her? Always reminds me of Aiden.”
“Aiden wasn’t exactly… A woman, was he?”
“He also hasn’t come back to life, as far as I know,” Lambert mutters.
“Who wrote it?” Geralt frowns, listening carefully. “It sounds like Jaskier’s work.”
“Some Master Dandelion. Never heard of him, but it seems he’s very popular now.”
“Oh, not again!” Lambert groans.
“It just… It really does sound like Jaskier’s song.”
“You just fucking miss the bard, Geralt, that’s all.”
“No. No, I actually think…”
“That might be exactly the problem,” Lambert says and places his empty tankard back on the table. “The second round’s on me.”
“Seems like your plan’s not working as intended,” Jaskier comments. He’s spent weeks traveling with Aiden, and they still haven’t even heard about another Witcher trying to find them.
“I’m aware,” Aiden mutters, chewing his dinner without even noticing its taste – which is, honestly, probably for the best. “Could you be, like… less subtle?”
“Fine,” Aiden nods. “Do it.”
“It’s a man now,” Geralt frowns, listening to the song he’s heard countless times already. “That’s new.”
“Looks like Master Dandelion might like to, uhm, dual wield,” Lambert snorts.
“It still sounds like Jaskier’s work.”
“Does Jaskier like to dual wield?”
“Hmm,” Geralt says dreamily.
“All the more reason to apologize, then, eh?”
“Oh, shut up, Lambert…”
“Still not working!” Aiden groans. He’s been waiting for three months for his Wolf to find him, and to no avail.
“I could, you know… Try something more obvious,” Jaskier offers.
“It’s a cat now,” Geralt blinks. “Dark-skinned, dark-haired… cat.”
“Yeah, I hate those fucking metaphors.”
“I’m starting to think I should have just… kept trying to find him,” Aiden sighs, staring out of the tavern’s window.
Jaskier, cheeks still flushed from his performance, downs his ale and shakes his head.
“Don’t give up hope just yet,” he says. “I’ve already made a few changes to the song.”
“Oh, have you?” Aiden smirks. “Does it now say Lambert, I’m alive you moron, stop hiding and fucking find me?”
“Well, not yet… But almost.”
“Great. I can’t wait to hear it.”
Lambert is staring at yet another local bard singing the fucking ballad. He doesn’t even blink. Geralt is getting a little worried that his brother’s brain might have actually exploded.
“It says a Cat Witcher now,” he says, hoping it would get a reaction out of Lambert.
The redhead finally blinks. That’s probably good.
“A Cat Witcher who comes back to life only to find out his Wolf lover has already avenged him,” Geralt adds.
Lambert blinks again.
“And you know, I’m almost sure that this Master Dandelion is just Jaskier’s new alias.”
“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Lambert mutters when the song finally comes to its end.
“Which one of them?” Geralt smirks.
“Both of them!” Lambert growls. “I swear to gods, if I find out your stupid bard stole my Cat…”
“Excuse me, madam,” Geralt says to the innkeeper who’s just brought them their dinner. “Where did your bard learn this song?”
“That sappy ballad?” the innkeeper frowns. “From this Master Dandelion himself. He passed through the town last week with a Witcher.”
“And Master Dandelion…”
“You know the bard that calls himself Jaskier? It’s him with a fancy hat on,” she smirks.
“About this Witcher,” Lambert growls. “Does he look like in the song?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Kind of small for a Witcher, and almost too pretty, you know, but we had a little griffin problem and he slayed that beast like it was nothing, so…”
“I’m so gonna kill them both,” Lambert murmurs while Geralt has to try very hard not to chuckle.
“Would you happen to know where were they heading?” he asks.
“I would,” the woman says and looks at the Witcher expectantly.
“I see,” Geralt sighs. “You have another monster problem, don’t you?”
“Well. It turns out the griffin probably had a mate…”
“Of course it fucking did,” Geralt nods and picks up his fork. He simply refuses to deal with this with an empty stomach…
Jaskier critically eyes the clothes he’s picked for tonight’s performance.
“What do you think, Aiden?” he asks his companion. “Isn’t the purple a bit too much? It’s a small town, after all. Wouldn’t the steel blue look better?”
“I don’t know, I like the red one best,” Aiden shrugs from his spot on the bed.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Reminds you of Lambert’s hair,” Jaskier says, rolling his eyes. “Melitele’s tits, I wish he’d find us already, because this is getting really–”
As if on cue, the door of the room slams open and a big, red-haired man walks in.
“You fucking bitch!” he yells when he sees Aiden.
The dark-haired Witcher beams and gets to his feet.
“Oh. Okay. That was fast,” Jaskier nods.
Lambert growls and grabs Aiden by the collar.
“Asshole!” he hisses. “I fucking mourned you!”
“Oh, honey, that’s so sweet,” Aiden smiles.
Lambert pushes him against the wall, so hard that Aiden grunts.
“I cried for you!”
“In my defense, it wasn’t exactly my fault,” Aiden smiles.
Jaskier inches towards the door.
“I guess I’ll just… leave you two to it.”
Needless to say, Lambert ignores him completely.
“I fucking avenged you!”
“Yes, that was very kind of you,” Aiden grins, utterly unaffected by Lambert’s angry face so close to his own. “You saved me a lot of trouble.”
Lambert groans, buries his face in Aiden’s shoulder and sighs deeply.
“You fucker,” he mutters.
“Yeah, I missed you too, puppy,” Aiden smiles, wrapping his arms around Lambert.
Jaskier, who’s already standing in the doorway, places his hand on his heart and takes a deep breath.
“Oh,” he whispers. “I shall write the most beautiful ballad about this… Ow!”
He’s unceremoniously dragged out of the room and this time it’s his turned to be slammed against the wall by a big, angry Witcher – but this one is white-haired and dressed all in black.
“Geralt!” Jaskier exclaims, his face brightening up.
“You won’t write a fucking thing,” Geralt growls.
“Is that so? May I ask why, dear heart?”
“Because you’re mine. My bard. And if I ever find out you’re writing about another Witcher again–”
“Then what?” Jaskier asks, cocking his head. “But before you answer, I’d like to remind you that I am not yours anymore, as you have made it quite clear on the mountain that you are not interested in having me as a companion–”
Jaskier is effectively shut up by Geralt’s lips pressing against his with determination that makes it absolutely clear that Geralt hasn’t merely lost his balance and happened to be falling in Jaskier’s general direction.
“Mine,” he growls.
“Well,” Jaskier sighs, slipping his fingers into Geralt’s hair. “When you put it like that… Fuck the mountain, I suppose.”
“Fuck the mountain,” Geralt agrees. “But I’m sorry. For what I said.”
“Apology very much accepted,” Jaskier laughs. “I’d ask you to fuck me, but I’m afraid my room is currently… occupied.”
Lambert’s loud moan only confirms Jaskier’s statement.
“Hm,” Geralt hums. “Do you think this tavern has a bath? I think I still have some griffin blood in my hair from last week.”
“Oh,” Jaskier purrs. “Oh, yes. And I’m sure I could get some chamomile oil…”
They hear another moan, this time Aiden’s.
“What are we waiting for, then?” Geralt grins and grabs Jaskier’s hand. “Come on, bard. We have some catching up to do…”
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Follow you - Chris Evans smut
The one where Chris becomes your roomate and finds out he has a domesticity kink... and more
Warnings: Smut, breeding kink, domesticity kink, friends to lovers, rommates au, pandemic mention, hair-pulling kink, daddy kink, cockwarming, kind of allusion to an age gap, but can be read as reader being into teasing chris
Word count: 4.1k
A/N: Thanks to @mollygetssherlockcoffee for reading this over and helping me make it better! You’re the sweetest person ever! this is for my own birthday celebration challenge! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them. Hope you guys like it!
“C’mon, sweetheart,” I’d been trying to convince her to close her laptop for the last two hours, unfortunately without any luck. She just glanced at me before returning to her document, and I groaned as I left the living room in search of what I knew we needed.
“Close the laptop and I’ll give you a sip.” This time when she looked up, she found me holding a bottle of my most expensive whiskey, the one she’d been dying to try ever since she first got invited to my place.
It was a tense moment of evaluation while she took in my offer and her workload, her head turning from her computer to me and then back to the device again, and I found himself growing anxious because of how desperately I wanted her company that night.
“Please?” I tried to convince her, even going so far as to pout - which at least earned me a giggle. I considered it a win, especially with the way it made my chest warm up. “C’mon, we deserve it! After the week we had?”
She frowned when she thought back on the stresses we had confided in each other for the last couple of days, and I watched with glee when she slowly closed her laptop, prompting me to wave my arms around in victory. “We?” She teased, getting up to stand before me with her arms crossed in front of her body, making me laugh.
“Alright, so maybe just you.” I couldn’t really deny that my work “problems” paled in comparison to hers. “Listen, I’m only trying to help.” She narrowed her eyes at me, reaching out for the bottle and unscrewing it before taking the sip I’d promised.
“Shit, this really is good.” A smug smile took over my face as I wrapped my arms around her, walking us back to the couch before making us fall over it.
“Only the best for you, babe.” I watched her roll her eyes at the pet name, snickering at how it affected her. I knew it made her giddy and she hated it, it’s why I insisted on doing it - or so I told myself.
Something deep inside of me whispered differently, though. I tried to ignore it. She was my best friend and we were going to be living together for the foreseeable future. No one knew when this pandemic would let up.
And lord knows that nothing positive had ever come out of my investments in romantic relationships. So every rational thought in my mind was begging me not to overcomplicate this. I couldn’t stand to lose her friendship, anyway. That’s why I had invited her to spend lockdown with me - my need to know she was okay, and be able to have her around whenever I needed to vent.
She was the only one outside my family who got my anxiety well enough to help me work through it when I was feeling bad, and she had even been able to prevent me from having panic attacks more than once.
I just couldn’t imagine going through this with anyone other than her. I simply hadn’t anticipated how fucking horny this period of forced sexual privation would make me, and I never expected her to become a willing victim to my needs.
But boy, once the liquor hit and she ended up over my lap, shivering as she rode my thigh without a care in the world, was I glad that she did.
“Is this what you like?” I asked, looking up at her with my mouth hanging open, unbelieving of how fucking sexy she looked as she used my body for her pleasure. I didn’t even care that my cock was straining against my jeans, begging me to move her on top of it. As long as I could keep enjoying the show, being a part of it, I was satisfied.
“I wanna learn it,” I pressed, moving my hands to hold her ass, squeezing it the way I’d always wanted to do but never allowed myself to dream about. “I wanna learn how to please you.” She made me feel something I hadn’t felt before, in any of my past relationships. There was attraction, of course, but there was also this deep, familiar feeling that made me feel at home. It made me feel safe, and with the help of alcohol, I was desperate to explore it.
“Ugh,” she groaned, letting her head fall back, drawing my attention to her breasts, the way they bounced in front of my eyes, unfortunately still covered. My mouth watered at the sight of it, wanting nothing much than to strip her bare and wrap my lips around one of her nipples.
“Don’t say stuff like that, Evans.” The comment threw me off, making me frown as I took a hold of the hair on the back of her head and yanked her to me, devouring her lips. They were soft - so much softer than I’d ever allowed myself to imagine.
“Why not?” I panted against her mouth once I was forced to separate from her taste of whiskey to search for some oxygen. She kept moving, her eyes hazy and glossed over, and it sent a pang of lust straight down my body when I realized it wasn’t completely due to the drinks we shared. There was also desire in there.
“You want to learn?” She asked, hands bunching up my shirt as she used her hold to grind against me faster. “Then fuck me, Chris.” She molded her body to mine, engulfing my lips once more as I laid her down on the couch, excited to have her underneath me - excited to see her naked body, explore it, get to know every little thing that made her tick.
I knew it would be a moment I’d forever remember, regardless of the amount of bourbon in my blood. I just never expected it to become something I was so eager to relive over and over and over again.
It was supposed to be a one time thing. When I woke up in the morning, I was ready to go back to being roommates. We were good at that. She was a morning person, by the time I woke up every morning, she already had breakfast ready for me, and then we’d go out to the backyard to let Dodger out together.
We’d sit and talk and then I’d go for a run - she’d have done her yoga already, while I was still asleep - I’d answer some e-mails, she’d work on her laptop by my side and the silence was just as comfortable as all of our late night conversations.
She’d sneak out to the kitchen and come back with a few sandwiches for our lunch, and then the rest of the day would go by with us doing whatever mundane task we had in mind, together even if we were doing separate things, and I didn’t feel suffocated.
I didn’t even run out of things to say. By the time dinner rolled around and I followed her back to the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes while she fixed us dinner - I wasn’t allowed to cook in my own stove, mostly because she was terrified of my food but hid it under the excuse of that one time when I started a fire - then we’d eat together, watch a movie together, talk until we fell asleep - always together.
I was shocked. It’d never been this way in any of my previous relationships. In fact, I was certain it was the reason why they had never worked. I’d given up on any realistic expectation of settling down precisely because of this: I just never expected to find anyone with whom a day-to-day life wouldn’t eventually grow boring.
It’d been three months and I still loved to wake up to her coffee. We still fell asleep every night side by side, too tired to move into different beds because we had laughed our asses off after skyping Scott.
And now that sex came into play in our relationship? I just knew there was no way I’d ever go back to being nothing but friends - or living in a place where she wasn’t the first person I saw when I woke up.
It sucked that it took a pandemic and a night of alcohol to make me realize that, but damn, was I grateful that I decided to open a bottle of whiskey that evening.
I kept waiting for the catch, the moment it would all go to shit, but it never came. Our lives resumed to how they used to be, only now I had this ongoing inner battle to not just bend her over the nearest piece of furniture when we were busy, and the ability to do exactly that whenever there was nothing else to do.
And for a while it was bliss. There wasn’t a nagging voice inside my head questioning this arrangement because it was theoretically perfect. I had a best friend, a roommate and a fuck buddy, all wrapped into one single person that I adored.
Life couldn’t possibly get better - until I realized that I wanted more. Talks of lockdown being over started and she had plans of going back to her place, of course, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from her.
I wanted to see my family too, but I wanted to take her with me. Introduce her to my mom, see her get along with my sisters. Witness how she’d be with my nephews and nieces - I knew how much she loved kids. And that’s when it hit me.
I’d given my heart to her. Somewhere between the morning coffees and afternoon runs, the nights where I’d rant about all of my silly problems and she actually listened to them - really listened, never making me feel bad about what could only be described as rich people problems.
All the innocent little gestures, and the not so innocent ones - when I discovered she was exactly the nasty slut I’d always dreamed of, the way she would randomly drop to her knees and suck me off, even while I was on the phone. Most times she didn’t even let me repay the favor. She just genuinely liked to blow me.
She also liked to play with me randomly, like when we were watching a movie and she mindlessly reached for my crotch, rubbing me until I got hard. It almost always ended in sex, and I just loved it.
I loved it, and I loved her, and the idea of her ever sharing this idyllic lifestyle with anyone else made me irrationally jealous.
And that’s how I knew it. I didn’t want to mess it up. But how could I not fuck this up?
“Chris…” Her sweet voice called out to me, reaching my ears while I was hiding in my office, trying to get my thoughts in order so I wouldn’t just randomly blurt out what I was feeling for my best friend to my best friend.
To her credit, she didn’t try to force me to keep her company - but that only made me fall even deeper for her, leaving me a complete and utter mess while she went about her day as if nothing was wrong in the world.
“Yes?” I looked up to see her by the threshold, clearly reticent about invading my privacy. It made me smile, thinking back on all of the times my exes hadn’t been as understanding, even after I let them clearly know what I was needing.
“I made cupcakes, do you want me to bring you one?” The thought of her in the kitchen, baking a sweet treat just for me had my cock twitching in my pants. Biting my lips, I pushed away from my desk to finally get up and stretch my legs, taking advantage of the monitor to hide my hard-on.
“No, I’ll come eat them downstairs with you.” She smiled before leaving, and I soon trailed after her, walking into the kitchen to find the most delicious-looking little treats, just waiting to be devoured.
Much like her, I supposed.
I was reaching for one of them, already licking my lips in anticipation when something caught my eye, prompting me to raise my gaze and look at her again, but really look at her this time.
She was wearing an apron.
There was nothing inherently sexual about the damn thing, but the way she looked with it, going about her business in my kitchen like she owned the place… It just felt right, seeing her there.
And suddenly I couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Y/N…” I started, leaving the cupcake back on the counter and brushing off the crumbs as I circled the kitchen island to go stand in front of her. She hummed before turning to meet me, smiling slightly to signal that she was listening to what I had to say.
But I didn’t know how to say it. So we just stood there, staring at each other until eventually her smile became a frown. “Chris, what’s going on?” I still couldn’t speak. Much to my absolute surprise though, she just sighed, wiping her hands on the apron while shaking her head, a knowing smile on her face.
“You’re stressed, aren’t you? You’ve been working so much, that’s why I thought the cupcakes would be a good idea,” she explained nodding towards the tray where her sweet treats laid. “They’re a reward and a break all wrapped in one delicious cake.”
The comment was like a punch to the stomach - or a scalding wave of desire rushing through my body, straight to my groin. The idea of her thinking about my needs and catering (quite literally) to them just did something to me, and I didn’t know how to explain it - I don’t think I understood it myself.
“But since they didn’t work…” she continued, blissfully unaware of the conundrum she had put me into. “I know something else that will definitely work.” And just like that, the woman dropped to her knees in front of me, reaching for my sweatpants before I could find a way to close the mouth that was hanging open.
“I guess I’ll grab a sweet treat for myself.” She looked so devious, small hand encircling my already pathetically engorged member, that all I could do was whisper an, “Oh, shit,” when she immediately wrapped her lips around it, starting to suck me off without any preamble.
My fingers were white as I held onto the counter behind me to keep myself up. She looked so good, staring up at me with her lips wrapped around my dick, I felt like I was about to blow already.
Why did she have to be such a fucking tease?
“Oh, God,” I moaned when she managed to engulf the entirety of my member inside her throat, the choking noises getting to my head. My hand instinctively laced with her hair, first to hold her lips close to my navel, then to pry her completely off of my member.
“What’s wrong?” She questioned once she was able to speak, surprise written all over her features while I was still staring down at her slightly teary face and trying to find my voice.
“I-I have a problem.” There. I said it. I had finally made some progress in my goal to let her know what was going through my head. Only instead of curiosity, what I got was a confused expression from the woman still holding my dick, her eyes darting from my own to the member throbbing between her fingers.
“No, you don’t!” It would have been funny if I wasn’t so fucking frustrated. Yanking her by the hair, I complained, “Not that kind of problem!” pulling her to the living room so I could throw her on the couch, trying to ignore her moans of pleasure in the process.
I’d figured out pretty early on that she had a pretty serious hair-pulling kink, and if my plans of sitting down and having a level-headed conversation were ever in motion, they surely went out of the window the second she pulled my body down to cover hers and adjusted my cock so it would easily fill her.
“Son of a…” I groaned, letting my head fall down against her chest as the little vixen gleefully giggled underneath me, legs wrapped around my torso as she tried to thrust up and tempt me to move.
“Just wait a second,” I managed to reason, but she just shook her head.
“Fuck away your problem, Chris. Use me. I want you to.” Motherfucker. I really couldn’t catch a break with her. Just as she started to make me move again, my hand instinctively wrapped around her neck, lightly squeezing it just enough to get her to shut up.
“I wanna start a family with you,” I finally spilled, looking deep into her eyes as I tried to ignore that I was still balls deep inside of her. Her eyes widened, and now her mouth was the one hanging open.
I couldn’t really relish in it because she looked absolutely delicious and she felt stupidly heavenly to my throbbing dick.
A few seconds went by without as much of a reaction from her and I was about to pull out - despite still being achingly hard - but her legs held me tighter, stopping my plans of leaving her tight haven.
“You know…” She started to speak, a little out of breath, catching my attention as I finally gathered the courage to look her in the eye again. “When I first met you, I thought you were the epitome of a fuckboy.”
The unexpected sentence had me snorting, and then I just couldn’t stop laughing. Finally pulling away from her, she fixed her hair when she sat up and I did the same, shaking my head slightly as I rubbed my eyes.
Our own relative nakedness - well… mine, she was wearing her usual dress with no underwear under the damn apron - didn’t affect anything when I pondered over her words, until I decided to break the silence.
“I mean… I think I was?” She chewed on her bottom lip as she took in my response, analyzing it, weighing its validity in that gorgeous head of hers. I was nervous, but she hadn’t blew me off yet. And quite honestly? I’d do anything for that little hope that was growing inside of me.
“What changed?” Was her question, so unexpected I couldn’t help but question, “Huh?”
“What made you change?” It wasn’t an unwelcome inquiry, especially when the response became clear to me, lighting up my brain and warming my chest, spreading all over my body until I had no choice but to voice it.
“I realized I could have a future with you.” My smile was vulnerable but honest, and in her eyes, I could see that she knew that. When she threw one leg over my lap, straddling my hips, I allowed myself to breathe deeply again, leaning on the soft cushion while taking a hold of her ass.
“So, how are we gonna do this?” She non-nonchalantly asked, slowly rubbing herself against my still half-hard member. I groaned when I realized the implication of her words, knowing that the meaning paired with the feeling of her wet lips dragging along my cock would get it back up in no time at all. “You wanna do me right now?”
The brashness of the question made my eyes light up, as weird as it may sound. In that moment, it became clear just how perfect for me she really was, giving me what I needed exactly in the way I didn’t know how to ask for it.
“See? This is why I’m in love with you.” She rolled her eyes at that, making me laugh. I’d anticipated the gesture, I knew it’d take her longer to say it, but it was alright. The fact that she was willing me to give me a child was more than enough proof of her feelings for me, if her entire behavior ever since she moved in wasn’t already.
“Shut up and fuck me, Evans.” Throwing her back against the couch, she yelped in surprise when I took off my shirt and slapped the inside of her thigh, assuming my usual position of hovering over her smaller frame.
“Spread your fucking legs, darling. I’m gonna fuck you real good.” The way she bit her lip as I slowly penetrated her again showed me just how excited the prospect got her, and as I started to make good on my promise, her moans told me just as much.
“Holy fuck,” she commented as I pounded her ruthlessly, weeks of frustration and the rush of anticipation getting the best of me, and I was glad for the feeling of her nails biting into my skin because otherwise, I’d probably run over the edge of not even caring about her own pleasure as I chased mine.
“You gonna cum inside of me, honey? Make me a mom? Finally fulfill your dream of becoming a daddy?” Her words detracted me from my task of sucking bruises on the skin that was now mine to bruise, mine. I threw my head back, yelling a, “fuck yes,” as my hips sped up, desperate to fill her up, but I was determined to get her to cum before me.
“Say it,” she ordered, small hand circling my throat as best as she could, a throwback to what I’d done only moments prior. It wasn’t enough to choke me, but it did catch my attention. “I wanna hear you say it.”
Tears escaped the corners of my eyes as I blinked, the intensity of the moment overwhelming in the best of ways. “God, you are such a fucking tease…” She chuckled underneath me, giving my throat a squeeze before she raised up on her elbows to kiss my jaw.
“Better get used to it… daddy.” And just like that, I realized that I had yet another kink I hadn’t known about before her. Or maybe it was just her, and I was obsessed with the damn woman, painfully turned on by every little thing that she did.
“I’m gonna cum deep inside your little pussy, sweetheart,” I finally gathered myself enough to do as she asked me to. “You’re gonna belong to me forever now. Give me kids, make me happy. How do you like that?”
The mischievous grin she gave me told me everything. “I love it.” I knew this was her way of saying what she couldn’t yet voice, and I’d take it. I’d take anything she gave me, any chance I got to love this wonderful woman.
We came together, both riding our highs in deep ecstasy. I moaned when I felt myself empty all of my seed inside of her, incredibly excited about the prospect of starting our future together right then.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I cradled her face in my hands as I struggled to catch my breath, but she turned it to the side and pressed a kiss to my palm and I was breathless all over again. It was such a simple action, why did it get to me so much?
“You’re not too bad yourself, Chris.” I didn’t want to part with her warmth, so I just adjusted us on the sofa in a way that kept me inside of her, sighing contently as I realized I’d never have to sleep away from her again.
“I’m gonna stay right here all night.” I adjusted myself so I was resting my face on her boobs, perfectly happy to do just so, but by the tone of her voice, I knew she had a teasing smile when she called me an, “Old man.”
“And here I was, thinking you’d be able to go again.” Warmth filled my chest at the realization of just how badly she wanted me - just as much as I wanted her too. I was so damn ecstatic. Not even her pokes at my age would be able to affect me.
“Oh, darling… better get ready,” I warned as I adjusted myself to hover over her again, taking notice of the excited glint in her eyes, the way she bit her lip as she stared back at me. “I’m never gonna get enough of you.”
The next morning, I added a new kink to the list of random bits of information that were driving me slowly insane as I felt the overwhelming need to bend the woman that I now got to call ‘mine’ over the nearest piece of furniture and rail her until I had cummed deep inside her pussy: seeing her in my shirt while cooking breakfast.
Yeah, I was going to live a happy life by her side.
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“I think it’s angry,” Aziraphale said. He did not lower the kitchen knife he was holding aloft.
“Of course it’s angry, you bloody scalded it!” Crowley said, clutching a meat tenderizer and speaking with a good deal of nervous sibilance.
“Well how was I supposed to know it had been hexed?”
“Oh I dunno, pattern with the snakes eating each other wasn’t a bit of a tip-off?”
“I just thought it would be a good day to use some of the nice china. It’s a gorgeous day for a picnic--”
Just then the teacup scuttled out from behind the dustbin, its china claws raised and snapping.
“There it goes!”
There was a misaimed miracle and the clang of meat tenderizer on tile. Aziraphale attempted to kick the teacup into a kind of jerry-rigged trap made of three egg cartons, a saucepan, and a length of bubble wrap. It dodged all of these assaults and scampered towards the hallway on its many, many legs.
“No, no, don’t let it get away!”
“It’s getting away, angel!”
Crowley snapped at it viciously, missed, and Aziraphale’s ancient refrigerator began oozing blood.
“Oh look what you’ve done, now I’ll have to throw out the baklava.”
Another snap and the refrigerator was healed, the baklava crumbled into the bin.
“Why did you even bring that dreadful thing here?”
“Well it’s too chintzy for my place, and I thought it might just be gaudy and ridiculous enough for yours--”
“Oh very funny--and you’re the one who has snakes on every conceivable surface--”
“--not eating each other! That’s messed up.”
“Is that terrible teacup the sort of thing they sell in the Hell gift shop?” Aziraphale asked, exasperated.
“Nah, it’s mostly postcards. That’s my employee of the month gift, for NFTs.”
Aziraphale did not ask what enefftees were.
“Now it’s loose in the shop! How am I supposed to do any business?”
“Don’t suppose you can,” Crowley said, and watched Aziraphale’s face brighten.
There was a noise like the rapping of far too many knuckles. Aziraphale and Crowley both yelped shrilly.
“Where was it?”
“I don’t know, I thought it had gone into the stacks!”
“Great, just great,” Crowley groaned. “We’ll never find it and it will breed in there until your bookshop is crawling with deadly ceramic larvae.”
“There’s only one of them, Crowley.”
Crowley gave a dark look.
“I’m sure it’ll find a way.”
They crept from the kitchen tentatively, neither one letting go of their improvised weapons.
“Let’s think about this logically,” Aziraphale said. “What would attract an infernal entity?”
“I dunno, rotting flesh? Gloomy old castles? Tax havens?”
Aziraphale said nothing.
“Angel, why’ve you got that funny look on your face?”
“Well I--I don’t think that’s quite right, is it? Isn’t it more accurate to say demons are more attracted to corruptible things? Attracted to good things?”
“What, you’re going to draw it out with the force of good? That’ll never work.”
Fifteen minutes later they were crouched behind a shelf of papyrus scrolls watching the teacup take tiny, dazed steps towards the halo floating in the middle of the shop.
“Can’t believe this is working,” Crowley growled. “It’s like a moth with a lamp, the stupid thing. What kind of self-respecting demonic entity walks right up to an angelic artifact and just stares at it?”
“Mmm,” Aziraphale said, casting a sidelong look at Crowley, who was nestled rather close to his side.
The teacup stopped in front of the halo and tipped itself backwards, as if dazzled by the light.
They both lunged forward. Crowley took the longer leap, and brought one-twentieth of the Oxford English Dictionary down onto the teacup with a brutal smash.
Aziraphale snapped and the halo disappeared, as Crowley continued savaging the shards with Q through Sh.
“Stupid teacup, trotting up to its doom just to peek at a bloody halo…”
“Yes,” said Aziraphale, looking a little dazzled himself as he stared at Crowley. “Imagine that.”
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glowing in the dark. pt.i
a/n: i can’t believe i finished the first part this fast sudjdkdkkd
summary: natasha and wanda have been married for over a decade, but work has put a strain their once happy marriage. when they find a new nanny to look after their daughter, they’re able to reignite the flame that had gone out.
warnings (18+ only!!! minors dni): noncon/dubcon, somnophilia, mommy kink, innocence kink, vaginal fingering, sexual nature, unhealthy relationship dynamic, hints of a housewife kink
proceed with caution because this is a dark fic. if this contains material that you are not comfortable with, please skip over it.
words: 2.1k | marvel masterlist. | navigation post.
you do not have permission to translate/repost my works anywhere! likes, comments, and reblogs are always welcome & appreciated <3
one. » two. » three.
You stood outside of the home that you'd been directed to by your navigation system. Your bags remained in your car in case you might’ve ended up at the wrong house. Right as you were about to turn to leave, the large door was pulled open by a beautiful woman.
“Sorry for making you wait out here for so long, I was busy doing something. My wife should’ve come to the door because she has nothing better to do but I suppose her high and mighty ass-” Wanda paused, noticing the uncomfortable look on your face. She had begun to ramble in front of strangers again. “Can I help you, darling?”
“Is this the Maximoff-Romanoff residence?” you managed to ask after racking your brain for everything you could’ve said in that situation. You were mentally slapping yourself having taken so long to respond. She probably thought there was something wrong with you because of how nervous you were.
“Yes, it is, sweetheart. You must be the girl Tony got us in touch with. Why don’t you come in? We can help you get settled later.” She shifted, allowing you room to step in. You flinched as the door slammed shut. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” you chuckled awkwardly, following her into an office where another equally attractive woman sat at the desk. Man, if this was the type of setting you’d be living in, you did not mind one bit. She pulled a chair out for you, encouraging you to sit which you did.
You had realized that these were the women that had hired you to be a live-in nanny for their daughter. At first, you were a bit skeptical because you weren’t too keen on the idea of living with a couple of strangers. But if it was a friend of your parents’ extending the offer to you, there should’ve been no harm in taking it. Who were you to complain when you’d be getting a roof over your head for free and compensated all in exchange for looking after a young girl. You already had experience with that because of your babysitting gigs throughout high school. This job couldn’t be any different, except for not being able to return home unless you had gotten time off in advance.
“You’re a pretty one.” Natasha piped up, completely ignoring that her wife was in the room. They may have not been on the best terms, but she’d never gone as far to flirt with anyone throughout their fifteen years of marriage. However, Wanda didn’t take any offense in the redhead boldly flirting with you right in front of her. No, she took offense to how easily she had flustered you. She’d rather be the one doing that and rubbing it in Natasha’s face.
Wanda cleared her throat before you could thank the other woman. “This isn’t the time for unnecessary compliments, we should be going over what’s expected from her.”
“Right,” Natasha replied blankly, searching through the documents sprawled out on the large wooden surface. “Here it is.” She grabbed a file, flipping it open before placing it in front of you. Wanda placed a pen on the first page.
“What’s this?” you asked, leaning forward to read through the papers. There were so many, you didn’t have the energy to read through everything on your own in one sitting.
“A contract, sweetheart. I know we didn’t exactly hire you through a service, but we’ve still needed a way to protect ourselves- and you, of course.” If you had known that ahead of time, you would’ve come prepared with a lawyer, but these women didn’t seem too bad. They didn’t look like the type of people that would trap you in an uncomfortable situation.
You only really paid attention to the rules regarding the care of their daughter, Natalie. You figured Natasha must have been the one to name her. She seemed more likely to name her child after herself out of her and her wife. Clicking the pen, you signed all of the empty blanks without hesitation, completely unaware of the staring competition the other two women were engaged in. “Is that all?”
Natasha skimmed through all of the documents to make sure you had signed whatever you needed. “Yes, that’s all for now. I’ll show you to your room.”
“There’s no need for that, I’ll take her to her room. You were probably busy before we came in which is why you couldn’t get the door, right?” Natasha bit back her tongue as you and Wanda gout out of your seats. “First blood,” Wanda mumbled, loud enough for her wife to make out what she had said. Her hand fell to the small of your back as she led you off to your new accommodations.
“Why would I respect your wishes dearest?” Natasha scoffed. Both of you were already too far from her to hear that, but that didn’t matter. She enjoyed giving her wife small surprises from time to time.
Natasha quietly shut the door behind her and swiftly made her way to where you laid in bed. She slipped in behind you, pulling your sleeping form flush against her chest. This would be easy for her given that you were quite a heavy sleeper. The older woman moaned, pulling your shirt up to reveal your breasts.
Don’t be too rough.
Screw that, she could do whatever her heart desired. You weren’t giving off any signs of waking up any time soon, so Natasha cupped your breasts and kneaded them harshly.
“I bet you’ve never been touched before, princess. You probably haven’t touched yourself either because you’re a good girl, hm?” You gasped when her thumbs brushed over your nipples. “Well don’t you worry about that now, Mommy’s here to take care of you in any way she can.”
She rolled your nipples into hardened peaks and pinched them lightly. One of her hands trailed down towards your shorts while the other continued to palm your breasts. Her head nuzzled into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent.
“Do you know what I love about you, precious?” Natasha asked, slipping her hands underneath your panties. “That you’re such a sweet little girl. I can tell that you’re always willing to please.”
The Russian inhaled deeply as your arousal coated her hand. Her fingers teased your folds, gathering your slick. She barely dipped her fingers inside of your entrance before bringing them up to your clit.
“You’re so pure, and as much as I’d hate to ruin that, it would be wrong of me to pass up the opportunity. Especially when my wife is fast asleep in the other room, dreaming of all the things she wants to do to you. I’ll just do them on her behalf.”
Lithe fingers slowly stroked your clit as Natasha left soft kisses along your shoulder. She contemplated the idea of marking you up, it’s not like you’d suspect a thing the next morning. Her digits put more pressure on your clit.
“I can’t let her fuck you first knowing that I could treat your sweet pussy much better than she ever could.” Her fingers circled your entrance and she slowly pushed one in. “Shit, you’re so tight, sweetheart. I’m going to have so much fun with you, I think I might just keep you for myself. Wanda wouldn’t like that.”
You stirred awake, bucking against whatever was pressed up against your cunt. Breathy moans left your lips as you slowly regained consciousness. Turning your head to the side, your eyes widened at the sight of one of your bosses latched onto your beck.
“It’s okay, honey. It’s just a little dream that’s all.” There had been moments in the past where you had been aware that you were dreaming when you were, so this could be no different. Natasha was thankful that you happened to be so naive, it made it easier for her to get what she wanted. However, she wouldn’t mind having her way with you while you weren't in a sedate state.
Resting your head against the pillow, you allowed her to continue pumping her finger into your cunt. You didn’t know how you’d face her or Wanda tomorrow. Hopefully, you would end up forgetting. Having lewd dreams about your employers was far from okay, but they had been on your mind since the moment you had arrived. Perhaps that’s why they had been able to infiltrate your mind during your slumber.
Natasha slipped another finger inside your cunt. She scissored her digits inside of you, rubbing your clit with her thumb to take your mind off of any pain you may have felt. “It’s okay honey, you’re doing so well for me.” Her digits curled, brushing against your g-spot. “Your pussy is taking me so well. Imagine me breaking you in while Wanda was tied up in a chair and forced to watch, unable to touch you. We might have to revisit that idea one day.” Your cunt clenched around her fingers. “Be a good girl and cum for Mommy, baby.”
You came undone on her hand, grinding against it to get the most out of your orgasm. Natasha sighed in relief, you were out almost immediately after her high. She left the comfort of your bed and headed back to the bedroom she had moved into following a fight with her wife that resulted in her being thrown out of their shared one.
“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Natasha smiled at you as you set down a plate of breakfast in front of her. “It’s been a long time since Wanda or I have been in the kitchen, I could get used to this.”
Wanda rolled her eyes but kept calm for your sake and her daughter’s if she happened to walk in. “How was your first night at the house, sweetheart? We hope that we weren’t too loud when getting ready for the day.”
“Don’t worry about that, none of you were.” you giggled, shaking your head. “I managed to sleep well, although I did have some weird dreams.”
“Really?” Wanda asked, narrowing her eyes at her wife who silently smirked while having her cup of coffee. “What kind of dream?”
“Nothing b-bad.” you stuttered, fidgeting with your hands nervously. Suddenly the floor seemed to be a very pleasant sight, much more so than the two women sitting at the table with you. “I can’t really remember it. All I know was that it was unlike anything I’ve ever dreamt of before.”
“I hope it ended up being a good kind of weird.” Natasha shrugged, beginning to stand to take care of the dishes. You were already sprinting out of your seat to stop her.
“Oh don’t worry about that!” you said, grabbing her plate from her. “I can take care of it.”
“Doing chores for us wasn't a part of your job description, darling,” Wanda interjected, glaring at her wife. “Natasha can clean her mess on her own.”
“No, it’s okay! I don’t mind doing small tasks like these. I enjoy it, keeps me busy.” Natasha tilted her head and grinned victoriously.
“Well thank you for being such a doll.” Natasha grinned as you pranced off towards the sink. “I think I enjoy watching her do these things for us.” Natasha paused, pouting at the fuming brunette. “Oh wait, she’s doing this for me.”
“Her dream wasn’t really a dream, was it? You didn’t do a good job of hiding your work.” Wanda growled, referring to the dark bruise Natasha had left on your neck. “I thought I made it clear that I would have her first.”
“Oops, that detail must have slipped my mind,” Natasha smirked, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Anyways, I should get going. I wouldn’t want to be late for work. You should head out soon as well, honey.”
“Mom!” Natalie yelled, rushing into the kitchen. “I’m going to be late if we don’t get going now.” The girl might have been ten, but she sure was a whiner. Wanda may have been the one to birth her, but Natalie took after the woman she was named after.
“Alright, just give me a second to get my keys.” Wanda sighed, dusting off her pants.
“It’s fine, I can take her,” you suggested, taking Natalie’s hand into yours. “Like Natasha said, you should head to work. I wouldn’t want either of you being late.”
“Are you sure?” You nodded. “Alright, don’t give y/n a hard time Natalie.”
“Of course not mama, well come on!” Natalie exclaimed, dragging you away. “We’re going to get late if you and my mom keep looking at each other that way.”
Wanda smirked in amusement as you tried to shake off your thoughts, closely following the girl you were in charge of. She was still upset that Natasha had put her hands on you first, but she would find a way to ensure that you knew who you truly belonged to.
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The Mysterious Case of Jaskier's Immortality
Word count: 3601
“So nice to see you again, Yennefer,” Jaskier says, putting on one of his many fake smiles.
“Jaskier,” she replies with a smile that almost looks genuine but Jaskier is pretty sure that it’s not. Which she confirms a few seconds later by saying: “Shouldn’t you be dead already?”
“I see you’re as kind as always, my dear. But don’t you worry, Geralt is doing a very good job when it comes to protecting me.”
“Hm,” Geralt sighs resignedly, clearly regretting his decision to spend the night in an inn instead of the middle of a forest.
To be fair, it was Jaskier who suggested it, claiming that he refused to be eaten by angry drowners, no matter how many times Geralt tried to explain to him that the probability of finding a drowner in the middle of a very dry forest is extremely low.
If Jaskier knew they were going to run into Yennefer in the inn, he would have risked the drowners.
“I don’t doubt that,” Yennefer smirks. “But seriously, how old are you, bard?”
“No idea. I stopped counting after fifty, I think.”
“You know, you don’t look fifty,” she says.
“Oh, well, my mother had an elf lover before I was born, so there’s a fifty-fifty chance that I’m not gonna age anytime soon. Sorry,” Jaskier smiles again, sweetly – and this time, it’s genuine.
“As if,” Geralt grunts.
“I’m sorry, dear?” Jaskier blinks.
“Come on, Jaskier, it doesn’t work like that. You’re a viscount, that means your father must have been a viscount, too.”
“You don’t know much about nobility, do you, Geralt?” Yennefer snorts.
“Hm,” Geralt grunts. “Still, he’s not a half-elf.”
“Let me guess, you’re a Witcher, therefore you could smell it if I was? I hate to break it to you, dear heart, but you’re going to have your nose checked.”
“You’re not a half-elf, Jaskier,” Geralt repeats. “You’re not immortal, you just… look young.”
“Yeah, right, you got me,” Jaskier shrugs. “I just look good because I moisturize. Happier now?”
“Much,” Geralt nods. “See? You can be honest if you want.”
“Yup,” Jaskier nods. “Honesty personified. Now please excuse me, I need to go and moisturize some more. Internally. With ale.”
“I’m actually a mermaid, you know?” Jaskier grins the next time he’s asked, this time by a very confused and very old Valdo Marx.
“A siren, Jaskier. Not a mermaid,” Geralt sighs, praying to Melitele to give him strength. “And you’d know that, of course, if you actually were a siren.”
“Just so you know, the term siren is actually quite offensive to my people.”
“You mean idiots?” Geralt chuckles. “You’re not a siren, Jask.”
“Can you prove that I’m not?”
“Well, last week you tripped and fell into this creek that was like… knee-deep, and you nearly drowned.”
“I was in shock!” Jaskier proclaims dramatically. “But I have a proof that I am, or at least could be a siren.”
“Well, my lovely voice, of course!”
“Not as lovely as you think it is,” Valdo Marx snorts.
“Come on, Jaskier,” Geralt sighs, ignoring the old troubadour. “You have much better voice that any siren I’ve ever heard.”
“Geralt of Rivia!” Jaskier gasps, clutching his chest. “Was that a compliment?!”
“Fuck,” Geralt mutters. “I didn’t mean…”
“Really though, Jaskier,” Valdo says. “How?”
“That’s a secret I’ll take to the grave, I’m afraid,” Jaskier grins. “Once I manage to reach it.”
“Keep on with the bullshit, Jaskier,” Geralt growls, “and you can reach it tonight.”
“Fifty years traveling with him, and he still thinks he can scare me. Cute, isn’t he?” Jaskier laughs. “Oh, Geralt you could never.”
“All right, I’ll tell you my secret,” Jaskier winks at Ciri, who lifts an eyebrow. “I’ve got this neat… magic ring.”
“Hmmm,” Ciri observes. “Looks like a normal signet ring to me.”
“Well… Yeah, well, it looks like it, all right, but actually–”
“Jaskier, I was born a princess. This is clearly a Pankratz family signet ring.”
“Damn,” Jaskier groans. “Like father like daughter, eh?”
“Sorry,” Ciri shrugs.
“I got myself cursed.”
Triss Merigold lifts an eyebrow.
“Somebody cursed you to live forever, is that so?” she asks and her voice is almost dripping with disbelief.
“More like cursed me,” Geralt murmurs.
“Oh, shut up, Witcher, you know you couldn’t live without me,” Jaskier smiles brightly, and Geralt has to bite his cheek to stop himself from smiling back.
“Hm,” he says instead.
“Eloquent as ever,” Jaskier nods.
“Would you like me to...” Triss clears her throat. “You know, try to lift the curse?”
“No!” Geralt yells before he can stop himself.
“See?” Jaskier beams. “You could never live without me!”
“A bruxa,” Jaskier repeats to a young man who claims to be his son, but looks older than his supposed father.
“You’re not a bruxa, Jaskier!” Geralt whines.
“Excuse me, and how would you know?”
“Because I’m a fucking Witcher?!”
“Well, you’re clearly a fucking horrible Witcher if you haven’t noticed until now!”
“I think I’d notice if you tried to sneak out of the camp at nights to feed,” Geralt comments, crossing his hands. “You can’t even sneak out to take a piss, Jask.”
“Maybe I do that on purpose!”
“Besides, bruxae are mostly women.”
“Mostly being the important word here.”
“Fuck’s sake, Jaskier. You won’t even eat a piece of meat if it’s not so well-done that it’s almost cremated.”
“Do you know how disgusting the blood is, Geralt?!” Jaskier groans, and then immediately blinks when he realizes what he just said. “I meant…”
“Case closed,” Geralt nods, satisfied.
“Oh, dear,” Jaskier mutters. “I fucking hate you sometimes.”
“Uhm, my lords, if I may,” the young man says.
“Hate to break it to you, kid, but if you’re aging like a normal human, you’re probably not my son,” Jaskier shrugs. “Sorry. I get it why your mum might be confused, though. It was quite a night, with at least four–”
“And that’s enough,” Geralt says, grabbing Jaskier by the collar and pulling him away from the man. “You know, lifting the curse seems like a good idea now.”
“There isn’t really a curse, Geralt,” Jaskier laughs.
Geralt sighs, his lips curling into a tiny smile that Jaskier cannot see.
“You see, we were in a crazy mage’s tower and I saw this bottle and I thought it was slivovitz, so I drank it, but it seems that it actually was some sort of an immortality potion,” Jaskier explains to a lady at the ball, whose grandmother he’d apparently fucked once, when said grandmother was still a young, unmarried woman.
Geralt only blinks, because it’s the first truly plausible explanation for Jaskier’s mysterious immortality.
“Oh, that must be so horrible to watch everyone you love die!” the woman nods enthusiastically. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me about it in private?”
“Of course, my dear…” Jaskier smiles. “Just… wait a second. How old is your mother?”
Jaskier’s lips are moving silently for a few seconds while he counts, and then thy turn into a wide grin.
“No reason, dear,” he says, offering her his arms. “Shall we?”
When Jaskier and the lady flee the ball, Geralt pulls out his flask of White Gull and pours its contents into his empty tankard.
So, a potion…
“There is no such thing as an immortality potion, Geralt,” Yennefer shakes her head.
“How can you be so sure?” Geralt asks. “Maybe this mage really did find a way to at least make the human life longer!”
“And why would he do that?” Yennefer scoffs. She has been doing that a lot since she finally ended their relationship for good about twenty years ago. (He later found out that she had left him for none other than Triss Merigold, but Yennefer still doesn’t know that he knows, and he’s having way too much fun with it to break the fact to her. So right now, he is pretending he doesn’t notice that Triss is eavesdropping on their conversation behind the door leading to Yennefer’s bedroom, and that he absolutely believed Yen when she claimed that the loud thud a few minutes ago was caused by a cat.) “We are immortal, Geralt, unless killed. There is no reason for any of us to make a potion that would make a human live forever.”
“Well, perhaps this mage fell in love with a human and wanted them to stay with him!”
Yennefer pauses, inspecting Geralt from head to toe and back again, and then she sighs.
“Oh, Geralt. Really?”
“Really what?” Geralt blinks, genuinely confused.
“Oh,” Yennefer murmurs. “Oh, no. Really?”
“Really what, Yen?”
“You mean you don’t… Oh, dear gods. Really?”
“Yen, I swear that I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Geralt grunts, frowning.
Yennefer rolls her eyes and tries counting to ten to calm herself down. She doesn’t even get to three before Geralt’s eyes go wide.
“Oh,” he whispers. “Fuck.”
“Fuck, indeed, Geralt,” she nods solemnly. “Fuck, indeed.”
“I found a djinn, he granted me a wish,” Jaskier says when Geralt asks him, about five minutes after his meeting with Yennefer. (He agreed to use a portal to get to the bard as soon as possible. A fucking portal!) The bard is sitting in a tavern and eating his dinner, utterly undisturbed by the sudden appearance of an angrier-than-usual Witcher.
“You never mentioned a djinn,” Geralt growls. “And after your last encounter with one, I sincerely doubt you’d engage with another.”
“You clearly don’t know me at all–”
“Besides, Valdo Marx, as far as I know, had an apoplexy while fucking a young student on his desk, and I don’t think you’d ever let him die like that if you had a choice.”
“You see, that was kind of a my mistake, since I didn’t specify the time and the circumstances of his apoplexy in my wish, so…”
“What was your third wish?”
“Your immortality, Valdo Marx dropping dead, that’s two. What was the third one? And don’t even try to mention the Countess de Stael, since you’d have to dig her up first.”
“That was disgusting, even for you, you know that, Geralt?”
“How are you immortal, Jaskier?!”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Jaskier puts a piece of bread in his mouth and grins.
“Maybe some other time, Witcher.”
“I am a fae,” Jaskier replies a day later.
“You’re not a fucking fae, bard.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because you fucking lie, Jaskier. All the time.”
“Fuck. Didn’t think of that.”
“You see, there was this artifact–”
Geralt closes his eyes, turning Roach around.
“Let’s consult Yennefer about this.”
“Oh, mother of…” Jaskier whines. “All right, no artifact, there was no artifact! Geralt, I’m telling you, there was no…”
“You’re not a succubus.”
“But it would be a perfect explanation, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re not succubus, because if you were, you’d know that a male one is called an incubus.”
“Oh, you and your stupid Witcher terms again.”
“You’re not an incubus, Jaskier, because if you were, I could never let you near Eskel.”
“All right… Explain, please?”
“I’d really rather not.”
“A dragon,” Jaskier grins victoriously.
“No,” Geralt says, shaking his head.
“No,” Jaskier agrees with a sigh.
“You know you could just tell me the truth and be done with it, right?”
“All right, enough is enough,” Jaskier growls that night in their rented room, tossing his doublet aside. “You’ve asked me three times today, Geralt. Why the sudden interest in my immortality?”
“As you said, enough is enough. You’ve been traveling with me for what, a hundred years?”
“A hundred and four.”
“Yes, and you still look the same as the day I met you in Posada!” Geralt growls. “And it drives me mad!”
“It wasn’t driving you insane for at least fifty years, so why the sudden change of heart?”
“Fuck off, bard. You don’t have to tell me. I don’t care.”
“But you do, Geralt,” Jaskier says, taking a step towards the Witcher. “Why?”
He’s standing in Geralt’s personal space, his chemise half undone, and he’s watching Geralt with those sincere blue eyes, and Geralt can’t fucking think…
“Because I love you, you idiot!” he snaps. “Because I fucking love you and I need to know if I can love you, or you’re gonna just drop dead one day without a warning!”
“Oh,” Jaskier whispers, his lips forming into a huge, happy smile. “Oh, fucking finally.”
“Fucking… what?” Geralt blinks, his arms suddenly full of an enthusiastic bard.
“I love you too, you silly Witcher,” Jaskier laughs. “I’ve loved you for a hundred years! Well, a hundred and four, but who’s counting?”
“You…” Geralt mutters.
“Silly, silly Witcher,” Jaskier repeats, pressing his lips against Geralt’s in a kiss that could be described as chaste, or at least the chastest Jaskier has ever been capable of. “We’re going to Lettenhove in the morning.”
“Oh, yes,” Jaskier whispers. “See, I’ve told you the truth about the source of my immortality once. But I think you need to see it to believe me.”
“Wait, you have? When?” Geralt asks. “Was it the artifact? Just tell me, I promise I won’t make you consult it with–”
“Shut up now,” Jaskier says, kissing Geralt again with way less chastity than before. “And in the meantime, believe me this – you can keep loving me, and I’m not planning on dropping dead anytime soon. Also, I’ve spent the last hundred years imagining fucking you senseless, so if you’re not opposed to the idea, perhaps we could, well…”
The kiss that this idea gets him is as far from chaste as one could possibly get.
And Jaskier definitely isn’t about to complain.
“You sure this is a good idea?” Geralt asks as they march towards the Lettenhove castle’s gates. He tugs at his doublet’s collar, way too tight for his liking. He’d much rather walk in there wearing his usual attire, but Jaskier insisted that Geralt must look presentable if he wants to meet his family.
It turns out that it only takes a single I love you to turn the bard into a manipulative bastard. Who would have guessed?
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jaskier replies, grinning cheerfully. “And stop frowning, you’re gonna scare the servants, love.”
“How long it’s been since your last visit here, Jaskier?” Geralt says, his frown deepening. “Who rules Lettenhove now, hm? Aren’t you only going to be a distant relative, a great-great-uncle risen from the grave?”
“I sure hope not,” Jaskier chuckles, stopping in front of the guards by the gate. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Viscount Julian, here to see the Viscountess Madeleine.”
“How can you still be a viscount?” Geralt blinks when one of the guards promptly disappears inside.
“We kind of decided to, you know, share the title,” Jaskier shrugs. “Seemed fair. Besides, father, well, the former viscount, insisted that I inherit the title, but he never mentioned anything about Mads not inheriting it, so…”
“How could your father have known who the viscount is going to be in almost a hundred years?”
“He really didn’t,” Jaskier chuckles. “See, it will all start to make sense once you meet her.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m hoping for.”
The guard returns a few minutes later, telling them that the Viscountess will meet them in the garden.
Geralt, knowing a thing or two about nobility, think it’s a little weird, but isn’t about to protest. He only thinks he could have left the fancy clothes at the tavern.
“Oh, shut up, you,” Jaskier chuckles when Geralt voices this thought. “You look gorgeous.”
“I know. You’ve mentioned it a few times. But I didn’t have to look like that, because we’re going to meet the ruler of this land in a fucking garden, and–”
A woman in a long white dress throws herself at Jaskier, who happily catches her. Geralt’s first instinct is to reach for his sword, only to realize that he (luckily) left it in the tavern – because Jaskier insisted, of course.
“Madeleine,” Jaskier chuckles. “You haven’t aged a day.”
“Oh, yes. Shocking, isn’t it?” she laughs, pulling away from him, and for the first time, Geralt truly looks at her.
The woman is shorter than Jaskier, slim, and her dress is much, much simpler than Geralt would have expected considering the fact that is supposed to be a viscountess. She has dark, long hair and her face is so beautiful that it almost – but only almost – takes the focus off her pointed ears.
“Lady Madeleine,” Jaskier grins, “may I introduce Geralt of Rivia, my Witcher. Geralt, this is Lady Madeleine, the current ruler of Lettenhove and my younger sister.”
“You’re…” Geralt blinks.
“A half-elf, yes,” she nods. “Julian! You haven’t told him?”
“Hardly my fault. I really tried,” Jaskier shrugs. “But he just wouldn’t believe me.”
“So you brought him here to prove it to him, rather than to visit your beloved sister? You are a horrible, horrible sibling, Julian!”
“Your… sister,” Geralt mutters, all his thoughts speeding through his head, colliding and falling down, one over another.
“Yes, we definitely share a mother,” Jaskier confirms. “Most likely a father, too, and trust me, it wasn’t the old viscount. Madeleine got the elvish looks, I only got the non-aging bit. Well, apparently.”
“But…” Geralt blinks. “Your father. The title.”
“Yen was right, dear heart, you really don’t know shit about nobility,” Jaskier snorts. “But I admit that even though our dear departed noble father knew that Mads wasn’t his daughter, obviously, it never occurred to him that I might not be his true son.”
“But you don’t age!”
“In his defense, that only became clear after his unfortunate passing.”
“And you aren’t going to start to age anytime soon,” Geralt mutters. “You really aren’t.”
“Told you so, didn’t I?” Jaskier winks, letting go of his sister and wrapping his arms around his lover instead.
“I… I…” Geralt stammers. “Fuck.”
“Maybe later, love,” Jaskier smiles. “Madeleine, my dear, wouldn’t you say that my return calls for a feast?”
“Absolutely. In fact, I have started the preparations the second my spies informed me that you have crossed the border.”
“Oh, so we have spies now?”
“It’s really only a net of nosy old ladies, but it works wonders,” Madeleine laughs. “I must admit, though, that I was only planning a feast to celebrate you coming home, but now I see we have a much better reason to party. Tell me, brother, did you finally get your stupid Witcher?”
Jaskier smiles brightly, turning his head to Geralt.
“Yes. I finally got my stupid Witcher.”
“Party,” the Witcher in question growls. “Is that why you made me dress like a pompous prick?”
“No, that was because while I find your usual self extremely attractive, you still look much better when your hair is properly combed and you’re not covered in monster blood.”
“Hm,” Geralt hums, but wraps his arm around the bard to hold him close.
“Oh, yes, about monsters,” Madeleine says with the most innocent expression Geralt has seen since Ciri broke Vesemir’s favorite vase at Kaer Morhen. “You see, we have a tiny problem with a cockatrice…”
“Right,” Geralt nods. “I’ll go grab my armor from the tavern.”
“That won’t be necessary. I have already arranged for your things to be brought to the castle. And your horse,” she adds before Geralt can even open his mouth. “You can leave for your quest as soon as the servants get here.”
“So much for you not being covered in monster blood,” Jaskier sighs.
“Hm,” Geralt grins. “Lady Madeleine, I suppose you happen to have a bathtub somewhere in the castle?”
“Of course. In fact, there is a private bathroom right next to Julian’s bedroom.”
“Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier purrs. “You know me so well.”
“Yes, and I expect to get to know you even better. In another hundred years or so.”
Jaskier laughs, pulls Geralt closer to him and kisses him.
“Another thousand years, I’d say.”
“What… the… fuck?!” Geralt croaks, staring at the smouldering remains of the cockatrice that would have surely killed him if Jaskier… If Jaskier…
The bard looks at his hands, then at the cockatrice, and then back at his hands again.
“Geralt? I have a feeling that I’m not really… A half-elf.”
“I think I might be… Uhm…”
“Oh, shit,” Geralt whispers.
“I suppose, uhm, you know…” Jaskier stammers, wiping his palms on his trousers like he could wipe away the feeling of literal flames shooting out of them mere moments ago.
“Yeah. We’re gonna have to consult this with Yen.”
“Splendid,” Jaskier sighs. “Can it at least wait after the feast?”
“After more than a hundred years of you not even knowing, I think one feast will be fine.”
“Thank the gods. Madeleine would kill me if I tried to leave now,” Jaskier chuckles. “Let’s go, then. We need to get the fried monster remains out of your hair.”
“You’re… I was fucking right! You’re not a half-elf!”
“Yeah, you’re a great Witcher,” Jaskier nods, grabbing Geralt’s arm and dragging him away from the monster. “Didn’t notice I was secretly a fucking mage, but otherwise a great Witcher.”
“Explains a lot, though.”
“Does it now?”
“Yeah. I always had a thing for mages, you know.”
“Oh, Geralt. You’re such a fucking idiot,” Jaskier chuckles.
“Made you laugh,” Geralt shrugs, smiling.
Jaskier shakes his head.
“I’m so, so gonna drown you in that bathtub.”
“My love,” Geralt grins, “you’re more than welcome to try.”
Tagging @lottelorelei - I’m sorry I always forget to reply to your lovely comments, but believe me, they always put a big smile on my face! :)
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I Will Light A Fire
summary: you protect bucky. from others, and from yourself. || bucky barnes x reader
warnings: smut (18+ readers only!!!) soft!bucky, angst, detailed descriptions of a panic attack/extreme fear, dark(ish)!reader; there’s a certain...vibe, i guess, from a scene in tfatws that i took and applied to this story. not technically a spoiler, I think, but please be aware all the same.
post endgame, where everyone is alive and (mostly) happy because i said so.
word count: 9.8k (sorry not sorry)
a/n: took a loooong break from tumblr/writing fics. new blog, new me. I hope you enjoy this; if you do and could leave a comment, keysmashing, or a rant in tags, i would be so grateful!
For almost a year now, it seemed like the world was slowly letting out a breath it had been holding since the return of the victims of the Snap, since the death of Thanos. The world - and the galaxy beyond, from what you’ve heard - was too chaotic, too broken, to just go back to the way things were. Those who were gone for five years seemed to feel that they had only been gone for a blink of time, whereas those who had been left behind had grieved those that had been lost. For the two realities to suddenly merge back together again - it was a mess, to say the least. People needed the calm, the quiet. They also needed someone to look to, to ground them so that they knew that this was their reality now. Not surprisingly, eyes once again became focused on the Avengers to provide that feeling of safety.
They did their best. Many of them had been gone themselves - Peter, Wanda, Vision, Bucky, Sam, Shuri. But they stepped back into their roles of leaders and protectors in order to try and bring a sense of peace among the people of Earth. Some took the plight farther. Captain Marvel left shortly after the death of Thanos, as did the Guardians. Thor had decided to accompany the latter, although part of you wondered if he did so solely so he could annoy Peter Quill. Shuri returned to Wakanda. There had been numerous casualties and damage wrought during the initial battle, and with the recent passing of her brother, she had to not only contend with being the new Queen, but taking up the mantle of the Black Panther as well.
The past year was busy, to say the least. Steve had retired, in a way. He passed the torch - rather, the shield - to Sam, and spent most of his time guiding the falcon so that he could be a glorious, walking Star Spangled Banner in his own right. Tony had the Avengers Compound rebuilt quickly, as not having some sort of home base proved to make things more difficult than necessary.
Not that everyone was at the Compound all the time. Tony still had his farm with Pepper and Morgan, but somehow he still seemed to constantly be around. Wanda and Vision had stepped away from the group for some time, but had recently returned and were taking up residence there. Rhodey, like Tony, had his own home elsewhere but any absence was barely noticeable when compared to the amount of time spent at the Compound. Clint and Scott also had personal lives outside of the Avengers, but they were a simple call and a dispatched jet away when needed. Peter was still attending school, but at times you still saw him lurking around during school hours. He had bargained with you a few times about keeping Tony from finding out.
At the moment, the place was rather empty. You were sprawled out on a couch in one of the lounge areas, scrolling through your phone. You had never been at the forefront of the Avengers, instead handling more behind-the-scenes operations and missions that shouldn’t necessarily be published on the front page of the newspaper. What with most of the Avengers being busy with the more public side of things, the missions had mostly fallen to you and Natasha. Apparently, a second chance at life hadn’t really made the various criminal scum around the world choose different careers.
Today had been a lazy day, however. You hadn’t had many obligations to attend to that day, thus your current position. The others weren’t so lucky; the only one currently with you in the lounge was Bucky. He was sitting on the couch across from you, also looking through his phone. His hair was short - he’d gotten it cut recently - and he wore a dark grey henley and black sweats. You caught a glance of black vibranium resting on his thigh, his left hand at rest while he navigated the screen of his phone with his right.
It was a companionable silence, that the two of you shared. You hadn’t known Bucky until after the Snap had been reversed. The two of you hadn’t spoken much since the initial introduction, but it wasn’t because of dislike or anything of that sort (at least, not on your end). Bucky just didn’t seem to be much of a talker. The longest conversations you’d observed him having were with Steve or Sam, although it was more like arguing with the latter. Shyness, mostly, kept you from pushing beyond your normal short, pleasant conversation and shared nods. Still, you didn’t mind. Bucky was quiet, steady. And you found a comfort in that that wasn’t quite comparable to anyone else.
Natasha peered over the edge of the couch, startling you. You shrieked, recognized her, and then snapped your mouth shut. You swallow it down, glowering at her. You weren’t sure, but you thought you saw the edge of Bucky’s mouth twitch.
“Sorry,” Nat said, the playful amusement in her tone hinting she was, in all probability, not sorry. She braced her arms across the back of the couch. “Remember that HYDRA leftover we grabbed a few days ago? I think he’s marinated long enough; I’d like to see if we could get him to spill his guts yet.” Her gaze lifted, focusing across the room. “Kill Bill Sirens, you want to assist with the transfer in case he gets frisky?”
If Bucky had any misgivings about Natasha’s teasing, he didn’t show it. He tucked his phone inside his pants pockets, standing with a low groan. He stretched then, arms above his head, pulling up his shirt to reveal a narrow rim of muscled flesh above the waistband of his sweats.
You sat up as Natasha walked around the couch. You stretched as well, exhaling a small huff. She held out a hand to you, an offer to help you to your feet. Instead of taking it, however, you lean away from her outstretched hand, eyes widening a bit.
She looked confused for a moment, and then realization dawned. “Right. Sorry,” she said, lowering her hand and taking a step back.
You tip forward, snatching a pair of black gloves off of the coffee table. You have your left hand covered and are velcroing the strap around your wrist when a black vibranium hand enters your field of vision. Tilting your head back, you look at the expressionless Bucky and his extended arm. You grab his hand, the cool feel of metal brushing against your skin for a moment as he pulls you into a standing position.
Natasha looked between the two of you before she turned, leading the way down the hall. You’re a step behind her, and you heard Bucky’s heavy footfalls trailing after you. The elevators weren’t far off, and during the walk you covered your other hand with the second glove.
Having powers that were mostly reliant on physical touch, paired with a difficulty to control it, was as much of an annoyance as it was a liability. With a simple touch of skin-on-skin contact, you were capable of emotional manipulation. That part was controllable, more or less. What wasn’t was you could also intercept the emotions any person was feeling. It was useful during interrogations, but a serious fault when it came to simply existing among your peers. Thus, the gloves. They weren’t a complete fail-safe, but they definitely muted whatever feelings your teammates might be projecting and kept you from altering their emotions on accident.
Interrogations usually fell into your and Natasha’s realm of responsibility. The two of you could probably transfer the prisoner from his cell to the interrogation room without too much fuss, but you weren’t going to complain about the extra security of Bucky’s presence, either.
The prisoner in question awaited several floors down from your previous location, where various cells waited. Stark’s technology replaced the old sliding doors and metal bars gimmick. Now, they were translucent, holographic-looking walls. It certainly lacked the appearance of security, but you’d seen enough people touch the walls to know that it wasn’t a wise idea.
Only one of the six cells was currently occupied. The man (who you could only remember by his first name: Petyr) sat in the middle of his cell, posed in a cross-legged position. He appeared to be doing something akin to meditating. Your eyebrow arched.
Natasha was standing in front of a podium, hands waving in short, quick movements as she navigated her way through Stark’s computer system. It was something you had tried to learn before, but most of the time you just cheated and asked FRIDAY to do everything for you.
One of the walls disappeared with a flicker. You and Natasha stood at the threshold of the cell. You could feel Bucky’s presence behind you.
Petyr waited a few moments before opening his eyes. He looked up at the two of you, a slow, maniacal smile spreading across his face. “Ah, it’s been a while since I’ve been visited by you lovely ladies,” he purred. “I was beginning to get lonely.” He carried a sense of courage, a casual bravado, that you wouldn’t normally expect of someone who had been trapped in a cell for three days.
Then again, he had murdered a hundred people over the course of a weekend, so you probably couldn’t attribute rational behaviors with him.
As his gaze shifted between the two of you, it abruptly halted. His attention lifted above your head, looking behind you. And if he had been happy to see the two of you, he appeared absolutely delighted to see Bucky. The wide grin that spread across his face, the flash of excitement sparking in his eyes, caused the hair on the back of your neck to stand up.
“You’ve brought me a gift!” He said, motioning to Bucky with a grandiose wave of his arm. “The Winter Soldier, still living and breathing.”
There was a soft brush against the back of your shoulder, Bucky stepping around you and approaching the man. He had a small tablet in his hand, no larger than the size of a wallet. It glowed a light blue hue, symbolic of Stark’s technology.
“Those days are gone,” Bucky said. He grabbed Petyr’s arms, pulling them so that they were out in front of him. He held the tablet between the prisoner’s wrists, tapping once. The screen brightened, and then two pieces of metal slipped from either side, encasing his wrists. He was so enamored with Bucky, he didn’t seem to even notice.
“Is he, though?” he asked. His voice was airy, light, as if he was in awe. Lifting his bound hands, he extended a finger to press against Bucky’s chest. “He’s still in here, isn’t he?” His grin grew, so unnaturally wide. He moved closer to Bucky, having to stand on the tips of his toes so that they were at eye-level.
Bucky was completely still. His expression was neutral, meeting the man’s gaze without falter. But the wave that hit you caused a small gasp to escape your parted lips. It festered in the pit of your stomach, deep and dark. Roots seemed to spread outward, crawling into your chest cavity, fusing into your ribs. God, it felt so heavy. It pricked at the corner of your eyes, sharp, causing them to burn. Your knees wanted to buckle, to succumb to the weight that had suddenly settled inside you. You clutched at your sternum, fingers curling in a loose fist against the fabric of your shirt.
You looked at Bucky, standing so still, quietly. His impartialness was so meticulously crafted, you almost missed the small slump to his shoulders. The flex of his jaw would have been imperceptible if you were not suddenly attuned to everything he was doing, reacting to the emotions he was unknowingly broadcasting at you.
You moved forward, to do something, but before you could even take a step a strong grip fastened around your forearm. Natasha had grabbed you, but her focus was on the two men. Analytical. Studying. You jerked your arm, but her fingers only tightened.
The prisoner’s hands lifted higher still. He released a small chuckle as he awkwardly patted Bucky’s cheek. Like he was petting a dog. “You’re just serving new masters now,” he told the super soldier, his tone reticent, but gleeful.
Bucky lifted an arm, fastening it on the man’s shoulder and shoving him forward, towards you and Natasha. “Move,” he said.
She released you then, spinning on her heel and walking away. You only dared to hesitate a second, examining Bucky. He still seemed unaffected, mostly, while you were just now beginning to think you might not crumble under the weight of his remorse.
Thankfully, Petyr said nothing else during the walk from his cell to the interrogation room. Natasha held the door open for you all as you filed in. You stepped out of the way as Bucky directed the prisoner past you, pushing him into the room while you and Natasha lingered behind the one way mirror. Bucky forced him into one of the chairs, grabbing a chain fastened to the table and attaching the other end to the manacles. Then, he strode out, back to you and Natasha, and then headed for the exit.
“Barnes, do you know him?” Natasha asked his back.
“No,” Bucky answered, never breaking his stride. He pushed open the door into the hallway, and then he was gone.
Natasha waited until the door closed, and then she turned to face you.
“Why did you let that happen?” you seethed, pointing a finger at the prisoner through the glass.
“Because this is an interrogation, Y/N,” she explained. “From the second we come into contact with the subject until the moment we leave. We’re here to extract information. You know that.” Her voice was lecture-like; a teacher speaking to her pupil, which you were, but the dismal weight had dissipated with Bucky’s absence. Now, anger coiled in its place, taut like skin over a drum.
“And what did you learn?” Your voice felt - sounded - like venom. “Other than these former HYDRA shit stains have some group chat where they reminisce over all the fucking lives they ruined?”
The tension around Natasha’s mouth relaxed, and she exhaled a soft sigh. Her expression shifted from affronted to more passive. “We all have sins that we need to atone for,” she said. “To move past. And sometimes, we have to face it.”
You weren’t so quick to relent. “He feels guilty enough,” you said slowly, your voice firm.
“I know, Y/N,” she said. You couldn’t quite identify the tenor in her tone, nor the look on her face as she stared at you. After a moment, she glanced at the prisoner through the glass. “I can handle this. Why don’t you call it a day.”
You didn’t have it in you to argue anymore. Not that you even wanted to. You simply nodded, casting Petyr a final glance before you walked out the door.
That night was restless. No position seemed comfortable enough for you to slip into sleep. So you tossed and turned, until your blankets were tangled in your legs. You had your elbow bent, arm tucked underneath your pillow as you stared into the darkness beyond the edge of your bed.
You hadn’t seen Bucky for the rest of the day. His absence hinted that he must be in his apartment. You wandered by his door a couple of times, pausing outside. Once, you even got so far as to raise your hand to knock, but you didn’t. You chickened out. You worried the flare of protectiveness you exhibited earlier breached the boundaries of your friendship. The two of you were friendly, sure, but why would he want you to comfort him? More so, it was a wonder in itself Bucky wasn’t more wary of you in the first place. Your power, after all, was emotional manipulation. As someone who had spent decades not being in control of his own mind, you doubted he wanted you to be near him when he was feeling vulnerable. Especially when you even knowing that was an invasion in itself.
So, you had left. You were able to slip a word to Steve, though, requesting that he might want to check on his friend. He gave you a curious look, but didn’t ask for further details. He simply agreed to do so. You appreciated that about him.
Shaking the feeling that had lodged in the pit of your stomach wasn’t easy. Bucky’s guilt, his sadness, lingered in the crevices of your mind, haunting you like a bad dream. The anger you felt, however, wasn’t so easy to shake. It had been writhing, coiling into a knot in your stomach like a serpent for hours. You couldn’t forget the look of absolute deranged glee on that man’s face as he talked to Bucky, as he tortured him with calculated words. He took delight in it.
You sat up, freeing your legs from the confines of your blankets before swinging them over the edge of your bed. You stood, grabbing a sweatshirt from a nearby chair and pulling it over your head to cover your black tank top and most of the matching shorts you were wearing. You picked up your phone from your nightstand, squinting as the screen illuminated. 3:51 AM. Everyone should be in bed, but to place a wager on it would be foolish. Nearly half of the Avengers suffered from insomnia, manifesting in one way or another. As such, it wouldn’t be odd to see any of them wandering quiet halls in the dead of night.
Still, you tried to keep your movements hushed as you slipped out of your room. You drew your door closed slowly, turning the knob with careful fingers to ease the latch into its proper place. Damn super soldiers could hear everything.
You went for the elevators farthest from the private quarters, past the lounge you had been in earlier and closer to the main entrance of the Compound. It responded to your call almost immediately, inviting you in with a soft ding. You stepped in, turning toward the large screen that took residence where the buttons normally would be. You pressed your left thumb on the screen. After a second, it chirped in affirmation, and various buttons popped up. You pushed the one that would take you to the basement.
Most of the lights were off down there, aside from the dim night lights that seemed to provide ambiance more than actual illumination. But as you walked, the overhead fluorescents flickered on. FRIDAY almost knowingly lit your path, turning each light on just before you stepped beneath it, leading you all the way to the cells.
Petyr was in the same one he had been in earlier. He was sprawled out on his military-grade cot, hands tucked underneath his head. His eyes were closed, and from the deep, even rise and fall of his chest, you figured he was probably asleep.
You stood outside of his cell for a few moments, watching him. Then you glanced upwards. “FRIDAY, open this cell, please.”
“Of course,” she responded breezily.
The wall came down, and you stepped inside.
He started to rouse, a hand rubbing over his face. He sat up on his cot, blinking groggily as he looked around. His eyes stopped moving when they landed on you, a slow smile spreading across his face. “The pretty woman returns,” he said, pleased.
He stood up, approaching you with an easy, confident swagger. Stopping just in front of you, he grinned as he looked you over lewdly. “Do you have another gift for me, sweetheart?” he asked, raising a hand to brush his knuckles over your cheek.
He stopped before completing the motion, fingers hesitating against your cheekbone. His breath hitched in his throat, as if stuck there. His eyes, narrowed and greedy, closed briefly, and then burst open wide. He lurched backwards, away from you, a small, throaty yell ripping from his throat.
You moved forward as quickly as he did back, your bare hand wrapping around his wrist. His heels caught on the tile floor, causing him to fall back on his ass. Still, you hung on, essentially letting him drag you across the floor as he clamored away, moving back until he was stopped by the frame of his cot. There, he stopped, his chest heaving, eyes wide and searching, bottom lip trembling.
You crouched next to him. You rubbed your index finger over his pulse point, it thrumming frantically. The heaving breaths he took turned into short, stifling sobs. He pushed himself back yet further, the cot frame screeching against the floor until it hit the back wall of his cell, and refused to move any further.
With your free hand, you grabbed his jaw, nails digging into his face none-too-gently as you turned his head so he was facing you. It took a moment, but his eyes eventually focused on you. You saw tears gathering in the corners, and your upper lip lifted into a snarl.
“I want you to think about this moment,” you said softly, pleasantly. You stared at his terror-stricken face. Sweat had begun to bead on his forehead, a single droplet running from his hairline past his temple. “The constriction in your chest, your inability to catch your breath, the way your heart hammers as it pours adrenaline into your body.” His eyes had begun to dart from side to side again, and you weren’t even certain that he was paying attention to you - if he could even hear you. Still, you continued. “The way your heart rate is right now, it can only keep that up for a very short period of time before it just...gives out.” You rolled your shoulders in a shrug. “Unless you calm down, it’s really only a matter of time. And you won’t - unless I want you to.”
Tears had begun to leak from his eyes, mixing with the sweat now readily dripping down his face. Your nose scrunched as you inhaled the bile scent of urine. You released your grip on his wrist, but kept a hold of his face.
“If you so much as think about Bucky Barnes ever again, I’ll be back. I’ll hold your hand as your heart explodes in your chest.” You released his face with a shove, the back of his head hitting the metal frame of his bed with a clang. You straightened up, stepping around the puddle that had spread across the floor. You listened to the man’s sobs echoing down the hallway as you headed back to the elevators.
You learned that there was a planned bonfire for the team a couple of days later. You also learned that the Guardians were returning to Earth for a short time, thus the cause of the celebration. It was the most amount of people you’d seen in the private quarters of the Compound in over a year. Steve, Sam, and Bucky were even around for it, as was Tony and his family. Of course, he and Pepper made Morgan go to bed around 8, despite her attempts at trying to get out of it.
Creating the bonfire was, apparently, a large production. Everyone - Rocket, Quill, Thor, Tony - had a better idea on the best way to execute its construction, and thus everyone went about their own way to complete it. Honestly, you thought Thor won that particular competition when he simply pulled a tree out of the ground and threw it on the designated space.
It was fun. Despite the constant bickering and arguments, you could feel the relaxed easiness among them. Once it became dark enough, and they were able to get Thor’s tree on fire after considerable effort, the large group had more or less gathered around the flames. Jokes and lighthearted bantering were exchanged, the still night reverberating with laughter and loud conversation.
You loved it, but after a few hours, you drew away from the crowd, sitting on the back hatch of the Guardians’ ship. While physical contact was the easiest and most fault-free way of getting a taste of someone’s emotions, large groups like this tended to project much more strongly. The joy emanating from them was a stark contrast to what you had felt just a couple days ago from one man, but all the same, it could make you weary if you didn’t give yourself a break.
So you retreated, far enough away that you weren’t in the crossfire for the mass projection of emotions, but that you could still pick up on conversation if you strained a bit. You watched them, stories and jokes being exchanged, multiple conversations happening at once. But they were all happy. And it seemed like it had been a long time since that happiness was so glaringly obvious.
Someone sat next to you. You barely turned your head to see Wanda before you felt another presence on your opposite side. Vision. He wore a cashmere sweater and slacks - much too warm for the current weather - but you weren’t sure if temperature or body heat was even something he needed to contend with.
Wanda was more appropriately dressed, wearing an oversized Beatles t-shirt that swallowed her lithe figure and denim shorts. Neither one of them said anything to you, appearing to simply want to share the same space. Both were carefully situated so that they weren’t touching you.
“Mom, Dad, I swear I can explain,” you said after a few more moments of silence.
Both of them chuckled. Wanda drew her knees closer to her chest, wrapping an arm around them. She stared at the fire, the flickering lights dancing across her face. “Can I ask you something?” she inquired, her gaze still fixed ahead.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Why did you do it?” She asked.
You resisted the urge to sigh. No one had spoken to you about that night when you wandered into Petyr’s cell. You weren’t naive enough to think no one had noticed - if surveillance footage in the cell hadn’t been reviewed, you knew FRIDAY would have tattled to Tony. You had been expecting something to come of your questionable life choices, but no one had brought it up. You certainly hadn’t expected Wanda, of all people, to start the conversation.
“Am I grounded?” you asked. You watched the flames rise higher as they consumed the tree, flickers of hot ash rising and winking out of existence.
“Forgive me for interrupting,” Vision stated, mannerly as always, “but if you’re worried about punishment, I do believe Mr. Wilson has bigger concerns than you making a serial killer cry and soil himself.”
Your lips twitched. Put like that, it was almost amusing. The memory replayed in your head, not for the first time since it happened. You could feel a glimmer of regret hiding somewhere in the confines of your mind, waiting to be properly acknowledged. Yet as much as you knew you should feel bad for what you had done, should consider the ramifications of manipulating someone’s mind in such a way (serial killer or not), you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel bad about it.
There was silence, again, hanging between the three of you until Wanda broke it again. “Reprisal isn’t normally your style,” she commented.
It wasn’t. And to use your powers in such a reckless way wasn’t like you, either. Normally, you were extremely careful. It’s why you didn’t like to be touched, or to touch others, why you had tan lines around your wrists from constantly wearing gloves and why the gloves in question wore out so quickly. You didn’t want to influence anyone. Over the years you had come to learn that sometimes, through direct physical contact, you could project your own feelings and emotions onto others just as you could receive them. It was helpful in your current line of work, but in general, day-to-day life, it just tended to be exhausting.
You knew Wanda understood. While her powers greatly overshadowed your own, she, too, was burdened with the power of influence. The two of you understood the magnitude of what your powers could cause unchecked. You shared that, and as such, when necessary, would check one another.
You clasped your gloved hands together, arms resting on your upright knees. “Bucky can’t help what happened to him,” you said, “what he did. But he carries the guilt for it all the same. He didn’t need some HYDRA leftover who learned everything about him through a Google search to remind him of it.” A weak excuse? Perhaps, but it was the only justification you had.
Neither one of them said anything.
“So how many of them know?” you asked.
“Oh, just everyone,” Wanda replied. “Apparently, FRIDAY had sent an alert to Stark when the man’s heart rate went through the roof. Almost everyone knew the night it happened.”
Not unexpected, but you still felt a pang of disappointment. You wondered if any of them thought less of you. “Does Bucky know?”
You sat there a moment. “Do you think it was wrong?” you asked them. “To do what I did?”
They both seemed to ponder this question, but it was Vision who spoke first. “We will do almost anything to protect those we love.”
You cut him a sharp look, but he didn’t see it, as he was already standing. He reached out a hand for Wanda, which she took, and the two of them strode back towards the others. Wanda looked over her shoulder, giving you a parting wave with her free hand. You could barely make out the smug twist to her lips in the fire light. She laughed at the vulgar gesture you flashed her, turning back around as they immersed themselves back into the group.
You sat there for quite a while afterward. Alone, you took your gloves off, rubbing at the indentation they left on your wrists after extended wear. You watched everyone as they continued their antics, at some point a serious debate arising over the perfect way to roast marshmallows. Quill claimed to be the leading authority on such a process, but his marshmallow lit on fire during the demonstration. You were entranced by it, Quill frantically waving the lit stick around while the others had submerged into hysterical laughter.
That was probably why you didn’t notice Bucky sitting down.. But, in all honesty, he was also extremely quiet. Given his size, you weren’t sure how that was possible. Still, it wasn’t until he was already next to you that he caught you attention. You practically leapt out of your skin when he did.
He watched you, a touch of a smile on his lips.
After a moment, you settled back next to him. Careful, of course, to keep enough distance between the two of you. His vibranium arm was closest to you, however. You didn’t worry so much, then. You couldn’t accidentally read him if you touched his vibranium arm.
You expected him to say something, but he didn’t. He just watched the fire, as you had been. Under normal circumstances, his silence wouldn’t bother you. Most of your time together was spent in similar situations. But knowing that he knew made you uncomfortable. Was he angry with you? Until this moment, it hadn’t occurred to you that Bucky might have not wanted you to act the way you did. You just submitted to your own selfish impulses.
As the silence continued to stretch out, the more uncomfortable you became. From the numerous glances you gave Bucky, you couldn’t see any physical signs of distress. His face was relaxed, truly relaxed. He wasn’t holding any tension in his jaw, the wrinkles that normally formed around his eyes and creased his forehead weren’t there. Of course, Bucky was a master of hiding his emotions, as you had experienced first hand the other night. He could be dying inside and no one would ever know.
“If I crossed a line,” you said finally, your voice hitching from nervousness, “I’m sorry.”
He looked at you then, and you felt yourself shrink underneath his gaze. It was a look Natasha often gave during interrogations - analytical, searching, perhaps a bit softer than her, but he was hunting for something. Apparently, he thought he might find the answer in your expression.
“Just surprised, I guess,” he said. He didn’t stop looking at you. The air felt incredibly still, tense. It hurt, almost, to draw breath in, as if it was no longer enough to supplement your lungs.
Bucky was incredibly attractive. There was no way to deny that. Hell, there seemed to be some secret rule that all men involved with the Avengers had to be drool-worthy. But there was something about Bucky, specifically, that entranced you. It could be the slope of his cheekbones, or the cut of his jaw, peppered with stubble. Even underneath the brown leather jacket and denim jeans he wore, he looked like he was cut from marble. A creation an artist would have wept to construct. But you thought, maybe, it was his eyes. Blue like the ice of a glacier, and guarded. Yet every time you locked eyes with him, there was something soft, kind, that lingered there. The fact you could still see it there, sense it, after everything he’s been through, probably surpassed everything else.
You weren’t stupid. You had caught quiet conversations among the others - between Steve and Sam, mostly. They worried about him. About the violence that always seemed to just linger within him, waiting for any opportunity to be released. Yet, you had never been afraid of him. You never could be.
“I got a read on you when he was speaking to you,” you explained. You saw him tense. “I’m sorry, I try so, so hard not to invade your privacy - anyone’s privacy - but when it’s intense emotions like that, they’re just like a projectile and I can’t deflect them.” You felt horrible about it, really. You had tried to control it, to add some kind of barrier so that those certain times when you could read without physical contact, that you wouldn’t. Little, if any, progress had been made in that endeavor.
“I could feel how horrible you felt, your guilt. And then he touched you like - like he owned you,” you went on, your voice lower, almost a growl, influenced by the anger rekindling in your stomach. “And I just - I wanted to make him pay for it.” You looked away from him then. You weren’t strong enough to physically see what reaction he might have. Would he be disgusted with you? Horrified? You didn’t want to know. “I’m so sorry that I invaded your mind, your feelings. But I’m not sorry for what I did to him.” It was difficult, to be that honest. It would be so much easier to just apologize for all of it, to claim you regretted doing it at all. But, you didn’t. And being the silly, infatuated woman you were, you promised yourself you would never lie to Bucky.
More silence. This was the longest you have ever talked to him before, although it was starting to feel you were more so talking at him. Bucky, obviously, was not expressive - verbally or physically. If you were brave enough to look at him, you might be able to pick up something. While your powers could eliminate all questions about someone’s feelings if you used them, you had picked up on the physical tells that usually accompanied those emotions. Natasha had taught you even more.
You stared at the fire, vaguely aware that now there were little fire balls being tossed around. Rocket was cackling, Tony was yelling, and Quill was threatening to murder someone. Probably Rocket. You sat back, hands bracing on the floor of the jet, watching the scene unfold. You half-expected Bucky to just get up and leave you, which honestly would be the least painful of possibilities.
Cool metal brushed against the side of your hand.
Slowly, so slowly, vibranium fingers slipped underneath your palm. Despite the chilled feel of the metal, warmth bloomed across your hand where he touched you. In your stomach. In your chest. It spread, warm and thick, throughout your entire body. Your heart was beating quickly, harshly, against your chest and you were convinced he could hear it.
You didn’t dare look, you could barely even breathe, as his fingers grazed against your skin. He moved them over the expanse of your palm, drifting up toward your first knuckles. He stretched the length of his fingers against yours before interlocking them. He applied gentle, but firm pressure, no mistaking the action as anything other than completely deliberate.
At some point, you gathered the courage to look at your hands. The fire light flickered against the black and gold vibranium, and small shadows danced over the back of your hand. His fingers were wrapped securely in between yours. You exhaled a stuttered breath, raising your gaze to meet Bucky’s.
He was examining you again. Looking at you like you weren’t real - a figment of his imagination. He didn’t look away from you as he shifted closer. You couldn’t, either. You were transfixed, stuck until he released you.
He lifted his other hand, bringing his fingers to brush against your cheekbone. Then his entire palm was resting against your face, thumb stroking lightly under your eye. He was pleasantly warm, the calluses on his hands scratching against your skin gently. You could feel his adoration for you, along with his desire. It felt much like your own, hanging between the two of you, threatening to snap.
Does he feel this way, or did you plant it?
The voice was sly, quiet. But it was the only full forming thought that echoed softly in your mind; everything else had been muddled by Bucky’s proximity, his emotions. It was enough to make your jerk away, out of his grasp. You stood up, smoothing your clothes, looking anywhere but his face. “I’m sorry,” you said. It seemed to be the only thing you could say. “I just - my powers…I don’t want to hurt you.” You gave up on trying to explain it, instead turning and using every ounce of restraint you had left to not just run back inside. Did anyone else see you go? You weren’t sure. You didn’t care.
Everyone still seemed to be outside at the bonfire, which made the building blessedly empty as you went back to your apartment. You shoved your door open, turning your lights on with a little more force than necessary as you walked into your living room. Sniffling, fighting the threat of tears, you took off your jacket and tossed it on the couch. You rubbed your temples, swearing you could feel a light prickle of pleasure where Bucky’s hand had touched your face.
Your door banged, and you whirled around. Bucky walked in, striding toward you with such determination you started backing away from him, until your back met the far wall of your living room. He didn’t stop moving toward you, even when he was so close. You held your hands up, as if in surrender. “Bucky, I-”
“Shut up, Y/N,” he said, exasperated. His body pushed against yours, pinning you firmly against the wall. Both hands framed your face. “I know what I want.” Then he kissed you. Hard.
His mouth moved almost bruisingly against yours. When you didn’t respond immediately, he bit your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from you. He took advantage, slipping his tongue into your mouth, rubbing his against yours. His flesh hand slid from your face down to your jaw, thumb pressing underneath your chin to tilt your head back so he could claim more of your mouth.
Warning bells were ringing like sirens, the what ifs circling in your mind. But Bucky had sounded so sure, so firm in his conviction that you didn’t think you could question it again. One of your hands threaded into his hair, fingers dragging from the nape of his neck up the back of his head. Your other hand was pressed against his chest, fingers skimming his collar bone.
Eventually, the hardness of his mouth against yours faded some. He still kissed you, but much more softly than before. His frustrations had fizzled some, resulting in lighter touches, more exploratory than possessive. You wriggled some against him, your lungs beginning to burn from the lack of air. His hand was still holding your jaw, keeping you in place, and he responded to your thrashing by tightening his grip. A quick moment, a reminder, and then he let go.
You turned your head away from him, gasping desperately for air. Your chest heaved against his, and even though you knew he was panting also, his mouth painted a hot trail down the side of your neck. Bucky had a talented mouth. He sucked at your neck with a lazy confidence, using his teeth and tongue to work at making a mark near the base of your throat. You groaned against him, leaning your head back against the wall behind you.
When he was happy with it, he shifted backward, ever so slightly. At some point, he had gotten rid of his leather jacket. He reached behind him, pulling at the scruff of his black henley, removing it in one fluid movement and then tossing it somewhere in the room. He was back on you after that, his bare torso pressing against your clothed one as his hands settled on your hips. His fingers snagged in the belt loops of your jeans, tugging you closer.
“I want you to do the thing,” he said, his eyes fixed on yours. You could feel the heat of his breath against your mouth as he talked, his nose brushing against yours.
Your brows knit together in confusion. “What thing?”
He grabbed one of your hands, metal fingers clasping around your wrist as he lifted it. “Your power thing. Touch me.”
Your heart lurched. You realized, now, in that entire time Bucky was kissing you, you never got a read off of him. Not that you needed it, as he had been very clearly showing what he was feeling with his body. His mouth, which at this point you decided was just downright sinful, had distracted you quite well. But now, with the intention set, you balked.
Recognizing your hesitance, Bucky pulled your arm forward a bit, turning his head to press a kiss against the palm of your hand. You felt it, then, the desire that radiated off his lips and spread across your skin. Another kiss to the inside of your wrist. You sensed his reverence for you, his admiration. And a jolt of lust so strong it made you go weak in the knees. If Bucky didn’t already have you pinned against the wall, there was a definite possibility you would have just fallen to the floor.
“I’ve felt this way about you for a long time, babe. Before we were even properly introduced, before we shook hands for the first time. All of this, the way you make me feel -” he paused to press another kiss to the inside of your forearm. “- was seeded before you even thought you might have had something to do with planting it.”
A new burst of warmth radiated through your chest. You stared at him, almost helplessly. It was helpless. You were helplessly enraptured with the man. Putting your weight in the balls of your feet, you pushed yourself up so your lips could meet his again. His right hand wrapped around the nape of your neck, encouraging you.
“Can I show you how I feel?” You asked. Your voice sounded thick.
“Please,” he responded, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.
You shifted against him a bit, barely having enough room to move at all, but you managed to get your hands in between the two of you. You traced your fingers against his chiseled torso, running them upward as you explored every plane, ridge, and scar. He stood still as you did this, certain muscles contracting under your touch. Your fingers over the scarring around his left shoulder, where skin met the dark metal. He didn’t pull away from your touch, and you pressed your mouth to the scars, your lips following its way up his shoulder.
You inhaled a deep breath, slightly shaky, and wrapped your arms around Bucky, fingers digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders. You pressed your lips against his collar bone, and it was then you released the feelings humming inside your chest. How comfortable you had always been sharing his presence. You thought of the longing looks you had given him when he wasn’t watching, of the way you watched him whenever he stretched, of how you admired the roll of his adam’s apple in his throat as he swallowed. You remembered the anger you felt, watching that man touch him, how Natasha had grabbed your arm to keep you from intervening. And how you thought your heart would simply burst when he had held your hand.
Bucky made a deep, primal noise, one that came from low in his chest. It sent a hot wave straight to your core. His arm was around you then, hauling you off the ground while his other tangled in your hair, dragging your mouth back to his. He kept kissing you until he brought you into your bedroom, and all but threw you on the bed.
You landed on your back, bouncing lightly on the mattress. As he moved toward you, knees bracing on the edge of your bed, you started to slide yourself up toward the headboard. But his hand wrapped around your ankle, yanking you back.
He lowered himself on you, his weight on his forearms, which rested on either side of your head. He kissed you again, and you opened your mouth to him when he licked your bottom lip. Then he dipped his tongue between your lips, drawing a soft moan from your throat.
Your hands and mouths explored one another, finding spots that made you gasp, or better yet, moan. Bucky rid you of your shirt and bra, instantly mapping your newly revealed flesh with his lips, teeth, and tongue. Your back arched off the bed, one of your hands clasping the back of his head while the other grasped the bed sheets, the smooth fabric fisting in your fingers.
His mouth focused on your chest, tongue laving over your right nipple while he palmed your other breast with his vibranium hand. Despite all the power you knew his vibranium arm to have, his touch was surprisingly gentle and nimble. He squeezed your breast before rolling your nipple between cool fingers, tugging at it. His mouth worked love marks into your chest as he did so. You grabbed a fistful of hair, tugging on it to pull him back to your mouth.
He obliged, but his hand left your chest. You whined against him, and he responded with a throaty chuckle. He continued to kiss you while his hands tugged down your pants, shoving them until they rested around your thighs. Then his metal arm was between your legs, and you cried out as his fingers rubbed against your clothed core.
You bucked your hips, inhaling a sharp breath as he nipped and kissed along your jaw. He groaned at your soaked panties, his fingers brushing against the delicate fabric. Then, he dipped his fingers underneath, cupping your sex.
“Bucky, please,” you said, breathless. You rolled your hips against his hand, trying to convince him to just fucking touch you.
He smiled, pressing a light kiss beneath your ear. He seemed to be operating on his own timeline, however. Rubbing the heel of his palm against your clit just long enough to make you moan, he then draws his hand away.
“Bucky,” you hissed at him, and he laughed.
You were about out of patience, frustrated by his aversion to touch you where you needed him to, and his obvious amusement about the whole thing. You shoved his shoulder, aiming to push him back on the bed. Of course, it gets you absolutely nowhere. Bucky’s brow arches, a sinful smirk tugging at his mouth as he stays on top of you. You scowled at him.
You keep your eyes on his as you reach down between you. You don’t even bother to unbutton his jeans before you slip your hand down his front. You can feel his hot, hard member underneath his boxers. You rub him gently, smiling as Bucky’s composure slips.
His head hangs forward a bit, swallowing thickly. You pressed a soft, sweet kiss against his throat. Dragging your nails gently along the length of his shaft, your smile grows as he rolls his hips against your hand.
Then you pulled your hand away.
He lifts his head up, narrowing his eyes at you.
He hummed, biting your earlobe and tugging gently. “Feeling spiteful?” he asked, an innocent tenor to his tone.
You watched him, suspicious, as he pressed a chaste kiss to your mouth before he slid down your body. He pressed kisses against your skin in his wake, working his way down to your navel. He lingered there a moment, nipping and sucking at the curve of your hips as he hooked his thumbs in the sides of your panties, pulling them down. He got rid of your underwear and pants, freeing your legs of both. Then his hands slipped between your thighs, encouraging them to fall open. He moved your legs so that they rested on his shoulders, turning his head to brush his stubble against the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh.
Your hips lifted of their own accord, seeking more contact. Bucky accommodated that request, kissing your skin, which was already blooming a red, irritated rash from his beard. He acquainted himself with you for the next couple of minutes. Curious fingers, brushing against you, sliding against and probing your hot sex. He was a thorough student; when he discovered a spot, or a motion, that made you moan, he lingered there, exploring further. When he finally - finally - touched you with his mouth, you all but cried at the feeling of it.
Where he found your most sensitive areas with his hands, he continued his assault with his mouth. Breathy praises fell from your lips as he tasted you, tongue sliding between your slick folds. He worked his way to your clit, his head moving from side to side as he pressed his tongue against your sensitive nerves.
If the world would have exploded around you, you never would have noticed. Your world now only consisted of you and Bucky. The more familiar he became with you, the more relentless he was. In a matter of minutes he had you writhing, your hips rolling in a desperate attempt to fuck his mouth as he worked you toward your orgasm. His tongue flicked over your clit while he submerged two fingers into your heat, pumping them in a fast, steady pace. He would curl them every so often, brushing against a delicious spot. Your back came off the bed, head thrust back into the mattress as you pulled on his hair desperately. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to continue or if you were trying to push him away, your body quickly becoming overstimulated.
It was too much. His fingers, his mouth, the lewd sounds of him suckling at your clit. Then he thrust his fingers into you, stronger than before, purposefully pressing them against that spot. His mouth fastened on your clit and he sucked.
You screamed, white hot warmth bursting from your core and sweeping over you. Wave after wave wrecked your body. Bucky rested his arm across your hips in an attempt to hold you still as he worked you through your orgasm. When you could finally breathe again, your back returning to the mattress, you ran trembling hands over your face. “God, you’re good at that.”
Bucky made a low noise, nuzzling your thigh.
You jerked, your heartbeat beginning to pick up again. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him. Sly, blue eyes met your own. He shifted, pressing a kiss to your mound.
“I don’t think you’re done yet, Doll.”
With that, he returned his mouth to your aching clit, the sharp stab of pleasure making you gasp. You’d barely recovered from your first orgasm. It was too much, too soon, as he continued to work you toward another. You tried to scramble away from him, but his arm simply pressed on your hips, trapping you.
You exhaled in a sob as Bucky administered the most savage pleasure ever inflicted upon your body. Your heels dug into the hot skin of his back. Praises and curses fell from your lips in equal measure as he put your aching, hypersensitive body through a second orgasm. You thought your heart might erupt out of your chest, euphoria coursing through you a second time. Bucky watched as your eyes rolled into the back of your head.
When you became aware of your surroundings, your body, again, you felt wet kisses against your abdomen. Bucky glanced up at you as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss on your sternum, his mouth twitching into a satisfied smirk.
You lay there, lack limbed, as he continued to kiss your sweat-slick skin. He worked his way back up to you, and when your lips met you could still taste yourself on him. Your hands moved in his hair, tugging at the tresses. You felt his bare thigh between both of yours, and you realized he must have divested himself of his clothing while you had still been trapped in your post-orgasmic haze. His cock pressed against the inside of your thigh, and you whimpered.
“You still feeling spiteful?” he asked, “Or did I fuck it out of you?”
“Technically, you haven’t actually fucked me yet,” you retorted, short gasps coming between your words. A bit overconfident, perhaps, considering he completely wrecked you with just his mouth. Still, you reached down, your fingers circling around his shaft and stroking him.
The cocksure look on his face faltered, eyes fluttering shut. You drew a low groan from his chest as you guided him to your entrance. He ground his hips against yours, rubbing his cock against your slick, swollen pussy. He entered you, then, slowly pushing himself forward until he was fully seated. You were already moaning, your hands grabbing his shoulders for purchase.
Once he thought you had enough time to adjust, he snapped his hips forward. You tilted your head back, but Bucky grabbed your chin. “No,” he said, his voice low and rough, “I want you to look at me.”
The thought occurred to you that Bucky made an awful lot of demands. You considered telling him as much, but he twisted his hips in such a way that every single thought just disappeared from your mind. He set a slow pace, hips rolling against yours as he attached his mouth to your neck. You went back to learning one another. Bucky found out embarrassingly quickly that your throat was especially sensitive. He drew several gasps and moans as he marked you. When you dragged your nails down his back, his hips stuttered mid thrust, and he said your name like a desperate prayer.
The build was slow, but you both became increasingly desperate for release. You were wrapped around him, arms and legs latched to him as his hips slammed into yours. He had reduced you to nothing but throaty moans. Somehow, he had that pleasure building in your core again, increasing with each thrust. But he’d already pushed you over the edge twice; you wanted to watch him fall apart.
Panting, you lifted yourself up a bit, so your mouth was next to his ear. “Please, Bucky,” you whispered.. “I want to feel you come inside me.” You could see his body shiver, and he looked down at you, pupils blown wide. “I want to be yours.”
That seemed to do it. His thrusts were hard, but sloppy, increasingly so as the pressure building seemed to overtake him. He shuddered, hips grinding desperately into yours, and then you felt his release, coating your walls as you clenched around him. He screamed your name, and that was enough to trigger your release as well.
Bucky collapsed onto you, though you noted he held himself up with his vibranium arm so as to not completely crush you. He kissed you, gentle and loving, before he pulled out of you and laid at your side. You turned to face him, brushing away some beads of sweat that had accumulated on his forehead. He grabbed your hand, kissing your palm. You smiled, and then giggled.
He raised his eyebrows, looking at you. “What?”
“Didn’t really realize I had a crush on a sex god this entire time. I really lucked out.”
Bucky laughed. A deep, pleasant sound, and one that you didn’t hear often enough. You snuggled closer to him, lips brushing against his shoulder as you draped your leg over his waist. You thought about the events that had unfolded the past few days. This is certainly not where you thought you were going to end up when you terrified Petyr within an inch of his life.
Resting your cheek on his shoulder, you stared at the planes of his chest, tracing small circles over his skin. He was content, happy even. Your hand stopped, and you shifted away from him.
“Whoa, whoa.” An arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back to him. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere. I was just, um, backing up a little.” You bit your lip, looking at him helplessly. “Now that I’m not being fucked into oblivion, I’m getting reads from you again,” you explained quietly. Your own pleasure, and perhaps that of Bucky’s, had kept your powers from getting intrusive. But now, in the quiet, they were beginning to return.
Bucky yanked you back against him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Good,” he said, yawning. He shifted a bit, settling himself in your bed.
“Good?” you repeated, confused.
He yawned again, his eyes closing. He turned his head towards you slightly, and your eyes focused on his lips when he talked. “From what it sounds like, you’re just going to have constant reminders that I like you, that you make me happy,” he said. “And, if I can guess, I can just touch you and you’ll know when I’m ready to fuck you senseless.” He opened his eyes, grinning. “We’re gonna have fun with this, Doll.”
there's no tags yet, cause y'know, i've been gone. if you want to be tagged in future fics for bucky, just drop me a line! i'll also be writing fics for thor and loki, just fyi
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Prompt: what if jc was lxc's age (and jyl maybe 2 or 3 years older) and wwx was lwj's/nhs' age when he was brought to lotus pier? (Or anything that involves a much bigger age gap bw the jiang sibs and wwx - where wwx is babey)
“You know what,” Jiang Cheng said to his sister, who looked at him. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not marrying a woman.”
Jiang Yanli’s lips started twitching uncontrollably and she hid her smile behind her sleeve. “Oh?”
“Nope. I’m going to marry Chifeng-zun.”
“On the basis of…?”
“If you take two adult men in charge of two Great Sects,” Jiang Cheng said, doing his utmost best to keep a straight face, “with all the power we can generate between us, we might – maybe – have a chance at disciplining our baby brothers.”
Jiang Yanli burst out laughing.
“There, there. It’s all right,” he said, grinning, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder. “You can join us if you’d like. There’s enough room in Qinghe for two wives.”
“We are not both running away to Qinghe,” she said, giggling. “A-Cheng!”
“What? I think it’s a great idea. If our parents want us back, they can negotiate with Chifeng-zun for it – may they have more luck than they had with the whole medicinal herb debacle.”
“A-Cheng, I am officially tabling this idea,” Jiang Yanli said, still snorting. “Older sibling privilege.”
“I let you out of the womb first as a matter of courtesy,” Jiang Cheng sniffed. “And now you use it against me? A-Li, how could you?”
“Call me jiejie! It doesn’t matter how much older, a few shichen or a few years, older is still older.”
“You probably elbowed me with those sharp pointy things you have on your arms. Weapons of war.”
“Older is older!” she sang. “Now tell me, what did A-Xian do this time?”
“Would you like it in chronological order, or in order of severity? I can also group it by theme, if you prefer.”
“Oh no,” Jiang Yanli said, covering her eyes. “Oh no.”
“And the chief-most theme,” Jiang Cheng said, continuing anyway, “is still called Lan Wangji.”
“He has the worst crush,” Jiang Cheng said, shaking his head with endless amusement. “And he just – refuses to admit it. ‘Nooooo, shixiong, we’re just friends, he can’t even stand me most of the time, he’s always trying to get me in trouble, but sometimes he lets me sit next to him and spend time with him and he’s so handsome and I really just want to make him laugh –’”
“We have,” Jiang Yanli said thoughtfully, “raised an idiot.”
“He was fine when we got him,” Jiang Cheng disagreed. “We have spoiled an idiot.”
“This is true. Maybe we should go form a mutual complaining society with Chifeng-zun; isn’t his little brother also an idiot?”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Jiang Cheng said. “Worse: they’ve teamed up. Nie Huaisang buys Wei Wuxian porn now.”
“In return for help cheating on his tests!”
“So that’s why I’m going to marry Chifeng-zun,” Jiang Cheng concluded. “Our parents may be disappointed by my decision, but with our powers combined, we might be able to save the world from our respective younger idiots.”
“Maybe,” she said, and shook her head. “A-Cheng – about our parents…”
Jiang Cheng shook his head as well, echoing her action but more in denial. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that she took after their father and he took after their mother, that she was born a shichen prior to midnight and he a shichen after and their personalities completely different as a result; it was no one’s fault that their parents didn’t get along, with their mother disdaining what she perceived as Jiang Yanli’s passiveness and lack of passion and their father despising Jiang Cheng’ prickly temper and difficulty communicating his affection without scolding.
It certainly wasn’t Wei Wuxian’s fault for being younger and more brilliant, talented at everything he did and with just the sort of personality their father liked best – the combination of his former best friend and the girl he’d once thought of marrying – and that he’d always made that preference very clear to everyone, even to their mother who often worried that her husband would dispossess her children in favor of his foundling and who lashed out at everyone in response.
That had hurt – hurt a lot, even, and Jiang Cheng was soft and sensitive underneath all his defensive layers, but any time he got angry over it he would look at Wei Wuxian, their little A-Xian, baby Xianxian, who adored his older siblings more than anything and was adored in return, and he forced himself to get over it. He was old enough, by the time Wei Wuxian arrived, to know to whom the blame really belonged.
“I spoke with Nie Huaisang while I was at the Cloud Recesses,” Jiang Cheng said in an undertone, one reserved just for his sister. “He’s asked me to pass along a message to his brother, the next time I go night-hunting, about the whole debacle – he’s so terribly apologetic, you understand, he couldn’t wait for the post – if we get to Qinghe by tomorrow, Chifeng-zun will be able to get to Gusu in time to intervene before our father does something wretched like cancel your engagement and take A-Xian home early from his studies.”
“The engagement I wouldn’t mind,” she remarked. “If Jin Zixuan feels so strongly about it that he’d get into a fistfight with A-Xian, it’s better not to marry, no matter what our mother might think. But on no account is A-Xian to be sent home early! He needs his education!”
Unsaid was everything else he needed, things he could get better at the Cloud Recesses than anywhere else.
“Then we go?”
“We go,” she agreed. Between the two of them, Jiang Cheng had more talent at cultivation, but she was steadier, even in her overall mediocrity: when the two of them flew on a sword together, they could make it much further and faster than anyone expected.
Qinghe wasn’t really close enough for a quick jaunt – they flew all night without stopping – but Chifeng-zun was amendable to their scheme, jumping at once onto his saber and making his way straight to Gusu. A waste of spiritual energy all around, really, but far faster than their father would move, with his Sect Leader’s dignity and retinue, rushing to the Cloud Recesses to save his precious little Wei Wuxian from having any connections in life that weren’t to the Jiang sect, and the Jiang sect alone.
And never mind how much he needed those connections: needed to have friends his own age, needed to have more time with that crush of his, needed independence and freedom and everything the Jiang sect supposedly stood for - needed for them to support him and act as the foundation beneath his feet, rather than the chains tying him down to earth.
Chifeng-zun – who was only a few years older than they were – was really a very understanding person, getting the problem at once and immediately agreeing with their view on things. Perhaps there really was something to be said about the difference in generations…
“Let me show you to rooms where you can rest,” Chifeng-zun’s aide said, a slender young man with a polite smile on his face as he saluted. “I’ll arrange for refreshments as well.”
“We hate to trouble you, but in all honesty you are a lifesaver,” Jiang Yanli said to him warmly, and he unexpectedly flushed red at the cheeks. “A-Cheng, let’s follow this handsome young man and rest a while before we return to the Lotus Pier.”
The young man was blushing.
“What’s your name?” Jiang Cheng asked, and the blush faded away at once as the man paled a little: it would be one he expected them to recognize, then, and not in a good way.
“This one is Meng Yao,” he said, and saluted again even though he’d already saluted once before, and Jiang Yanli’s eyes flickered to Jiang Cheng’s very briefly before she caught his arms and raised him up.
“I’ve heard of you. Smart and talented enough to get Chifeng-zun’s attention, even so far as becoming his personal deputy - you must be brilliant. Truly, you deserve a better father,” she told him, and he stared up at her, dumbstruck.
“Don’t mind her,” Jiang Cheng said. “She’s trying out this new thing in which she says everything she feels without thinking first.”
She elbowed him. “And isn’t it your fault?” she asked snappishly. “You’re the one who needs to speak your mind more; I’m just modeling good behavior!”
If she’d been older than him – really older, rather than just a few shichen – maybe she would have held her tongue more and played the role of the peacekeeper, trying to protect him from his father’s indifference the way she had tried to when they were both younger, just as he had tried to distract his mother from her with his hard-fought accomplishments. It wasn’t until they had little Wei Wuxian to spoil and care for, a joint task that required both of their attention, that they realized that splitting their forces like that was pointless and self-defeating: it wasn’t actually helping that Jiang Yanli suppressed so much of her spirit until she felt like little more than a reflective mirror with no content, nor that Jiang Cheng nearly worked himself to death trying to prove that he was worthy of his father’s love and respect that he would never receive, and it never would.
So they stopped.
They were trying very hard to stop, anyway.
“You’re very kind,” Meng Yao murmured, and led them to their rooms.
The moment he closed the door behind him, Jiang Yanli turned to Jiang Cheng and said, “I’ve changed my mind about your plan – we can run away to Qinghe. You marry Chifeng-zun, and I’ll marry that charming boy out there.”
There was an audible thudding sound from the corridor outside, as if someone had accidentally walked into a wall, and they both grinned at each other.
“Mother would kill you,” he warned her in an undertone.
“And being married to someone who disdains me enough to fight over my worthlessness in public wouldn’t?” she retorted, smiling even though her expression was tinged with pain: if she had one ambition in life, it was to never become their mother. “The marriage agreement might have been forged by our mothers, but the text of it says ‘the Jin sect leader’s son to the Jiang sect leader’s daughter’. Why can’t I marry him?”
“He hasn’t been acknowledged.”
“Only technically. Everyone knows he’s the real deal, or else his father wouldn’t have made such a fuss about it.”
“Anyway, he must be a good man, or Chifeng-zun wouldn’t have promoted him.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jiang Cheng said. “Chifeng-zun doesn’t have the sense of self-preservation the heavens bestowed on a lemming.”
There was a vaguely audible snort from outside their door. It seemed Meng Yao, at least, had the good sense not to leave guests in his house unattended, and no discrimination against the very useful business of listening at doors.
He also had a sense of humor, which was good given Jiang Yanli’s newfound ambitions in his regard.
“Yes, well, I wasn’t saying I’d elope with him tomorrow or anything,” she sniffed, eyes dancing. “Give him some time to prove himself to me.”
Jiang Cheng couldn’t help but smile back. “That’s true,” he said, raising his voice a little. “At Chifeng-zun’s side, he’ll be able to make a name for himself until the whispers all say that his father was an idiot for keeping him away.”
“And if even that doesn’t work, I’ll marry him in and make him help me run the Jiang sect,” she said cheerfully. “Who needs Lanling Jin?”
“Wait, since when are you inheriting the Jiang sect?”
“I’m older! And anyway, aren’t you marrying Chifeng-zun? That means you’ll be away helping run his sect, and that leaves an opening at home for me.”
“…huh. Good point.”
“Maybe you can just swap places with Meng Yao,” she said, starting to giggle again. “And we can all see how long it takes anyone to notice…”
“Our parents might not,” Jiang Cheng said dryly. “But Chifeng-zun would. If only because I have my sights set on his bed, and I don’t think Meng Yao does.”
“You don’t know that; everyone wants Chifeng-zun. Maybe you have competition.”
“Better to have competition than be oblivious. Do you want to hear the whole story about A-Xian and Lan Wangji’s tragic mutual pining disaster? Xichen-xiong told me all the details he’s been leaving out of his letters.”
“Tell me everything!”
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istg i didn't know gg it was just a random white guy's name i can't believe i burned him before the episode even aired.
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welcome to the team.
a/n: there’s little to no plot, but a heck of a lot of porn.
summary: wanda walks in on natasha and her girlfriend sharing an intimate moment. fortunately for her, the couple doesn’t mind the interruption.
warnings (18+ only): mdlg themes, smut, mommy kink, praise kink, finger sucking, boot grinding, thigh riding, lactation kink, vaginal fingering, choking, masturbation, wanda’s rings, light verbal humiliation, multiple orgasms, strap-on use, face sitting
words: 2.6k | marvel masterlist. | navigation post.
you do not have permission to translate/repost my works anywhere! likes, comments, and reblogs are always welcome & appreciated <3
“Relax, princess.” Natasha’s hot breath ghosted over your neck as she led you farther into the room. She turned you around to face her and pushed you down onto your knees. “You don’t have to be shy around me, we’ve done this many times before.”
“The door’s still open, Mommy,” you whispered, sticking your head out to the side to look behind her. A cold hand wrapped around your jaw, forcing you to look up at your girlfriend.
“Keep your eyes on me, honey.” Natasha scolded. “It’s just you and Mommy, sweetheart. No one is going to catch us. Everyone else knows to stay off of our floor unless we ask for them, so don't go on worrying your pretty little head about it.” The Russian smiled when you mumbled out an apology. She released your face, swiping her fingers across your mouth. “Open.”
You parted your lips, allowing her to shove two of her digits into your mouth. Your tongue ran across the length of her fingers as she pumped them into your mouth.
“Good girl.” she cooed, pushing her fingers in farther. You gagged as they hit the back of your throat. “It’s okay, you’re doing just fine, baby. Let me know if it becomes too much, alright?”
You hummed around her digits, curling your lips around them. Natasha wedged her boot between your knees and nodded. It was then that you were reminded that unlike you, your girlfriend was fully clothed. She had stripped you the minute you got to your room. You silently lowered yourself onto her shoe. Her digits in your mouth muffled your moans as you slowly rocked your hips.
“You deserve this, honey. You’ve been an angel this past week and Mommy really appreciates it.” The redhead kept her heel planted on the ground but pressed the tip of her boot against your cunt.
Natasha slipped another finger inside of your mouth. Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes while she continued to thrust her digits into your mouth. Her free hand brushed against the side of your face, wiping away a tear that had escaped your eyes.
“I know, precious. It’s a little more than what you’re used to, but I know you can handle it. I’m only trying to get you ready for that new toy we ordered the other day.” Unfortunately, the item she was referring to hadn’t arrived yet, but you were still looking forward to the new strap Natasha had picked out. “After all, Mommy knows what’s best for you. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Mommy.” you managed to say. Your teeth grazed her digits as she slowly pulled them out of your mouth. Natasha wiped her fingers on your cheek and squeezed your jaw, causing your mouth to fall open.
The older woman crouched down and spit into your mouth. Her saliva coated your tongue, slowly dripping down while you waited for her to indicate that you could swallow. “You look so cute like this, baby. I’m tempted to leave you like this.” You huffed and tried shifting closer to her. “Don’t look at me like that.” Natasha scowled, gently pushing your face to the side. “Swallow.”
Obliging with her request, you swallowed and ground down harder on her boot. Natasha cupped your face and slid her thumb inside of your mouth.
You whined when she flattened her foot and pulled you up. “Oh, honey, you made such a big mess. Should I make you clean it?”
“Mommy.” you whimpered as her thumb left your mouth.
“Don’t complain, bunny.” Natasha sighed, helping you to your feet. “Mommy will give you what you want eventually, you just have to wait.”
Swiftly undressing herself, Natasha led you over to the bed and sat down. Intertwining her fingers with yours, she guided you into her lap. “Come on, fuck yourself on Mommy’s thigh.” You squeezed her hands and hid your face in the crook of her neck. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart.” Natasha pulled you away from her neck so she could look you in the eye. “All Mommy wants to do is make her precious bunny feel good.”
“Alright, Mommy,” you whispered, moving one of your legs so you were straddling her thigh. Natasha grinned when your cunt met her bare skin.
“Rub that pretty pussy on me, honey.” Natasha encouraged, caressing your face. “You’re soaked, baby. Why is that?” You murmured something under your breath that the Russian was unable to understand. “Try again, use your big girl words and speak loud enough for Mommy to hear.”
“Because of you, Mommy,” you repeated, louder than before. Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Natasha permitted you to continue grinding on her thigh.
Natasha’s hand slid behind your neck and guided you towards her heavy breasts. Instinctively, you opened your mouth, licking her nipples before curling your lips around one of them. She rubbed your back reassuringly as you tugged on the pebbled peak. “There you go, princess.”
A steady stream of sweet milk began pouring into your mouth. Your hips slowed as you became distracted by the substance filling you. They almost stilled, but your girlfriend caught them between her hands in time and began helping you along her thigh.
“No stopping until you’ve drenched Mommy’s thigh, okay?” Your mouth unlatched from Natasha’s breast so you could let out a small ‘yes’. Immediately after the word had been uttered, your lips were back on her. Your tongue flicked over her areola, licking up the small beads of milk that had dripped out. “Does Mommy’s pretty baby wanna cum?” Natasha questioned, bringing her thumb down to your clit, stroking over it tenderly.
Wanda got out of the elevator and noticed that the space was empty, meaning that you and Natasha must have been in your room. The others had sent her to fetch you two for dinner, but the only problem was that she seemed to have forgotten that they had also told her to wait a while before she went.
She heard an odd noise but brushed it off. All of you were Avengers, one of you must’ve been in the gym training. Continuing down the hall, she stopped at your bedroom door.
The Sokovian stood in the doorway, completely still. She knew she’d get in trouble for watching, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from you and Nat.
“God, you’re so needy.” Natasha purred as you eagerly sucked her nipple. She pushed your cunt down on her thigh harder. “Maybe I should’ve invited Wanda up to our room tonight. You would happily let her touch you, huh?”
Your eyes widened and you were about to pull away, but Natasha kept your head in place. “I know about your little crush, bunny. You shouldn’t be so shocked, did you think you could get around without Mommy noticing?” Wanda worried that she would now be the object of Natasha’s anger since her girlfriend had a crush on her. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, sweetie, I can see why you’d like her. She’s cute, but not as cute as my sweet girl.”
“I’m gonna count down from three. When I get to one, you’re gonna cum for Mommy, alright?” Natasha pecked your forehead, using her hand to keep you close to her chest. “Three.”
Wanda watched in awe as your hips sped up and you ground against Natasha with a force she couldn’t have imagined. “Two.”
Your suckling became less intense as less milk flowed into your mouth. You gently grazed your teeth over Natasha’s nipple when her thumb applied more pressure on your clit. “One.”
You came on her thigh with a faint sob, slowing your hips to help you ride out your high. Your mouth released her nipple and kissed up her breasts. Natasha cupped your face in her hands and planted her lips on yours. She whispered soft reassurances in your ear when you pulled away, allowing you to rest your head on her shoulder.
You whined when her hand traveled back to the apex of your thighs. “Hush, honey. You can take more, Mommy will know when to stop.” Wanda swallowed, stepping back to leave. “If you’re going to watch me fuck my precious bunny, you might as well help me do it.”
The brunette froze like a deer in headlights when the Russian acknowledged her presence. “What? You do realize that I was practically a spy, right?”
“It’s fine Wanda, we don’t mind the interruption at all.” Natasha breathed, circling your clit with her thumb. “So are you going to help me out or not?”
“Yeah- only if you two don’t mind.”
“If I did mind, why would I ask?” Natasha remarked, turning her attention back to you. “Don’t you want Wanda playing with your pussy, baby? I’ll teach her how to make you feel good, how does that sound?”
“You can come closer, Wanda.” The brunette stepped into the room, slowly making her way towards the bed. “Take your clothes off.” Wanda made quick work of her clothes and reached for her necklace. “Leave that and the rings on.”
“Just do as you’re told, sweetie.” Natasha purred, laying you on your back and rolling to lay beside you. “You want her to put her hands on you, hm? Don’t lie and say that you don’t, baby. Everyone knows you’re always staring at them.” You looked up at the headboard, but Natasha was quick to tilt your chin down. “Ask her nicely for what you want like a good girl.”
“Touch me p-please, Wanda!”
The sokovian hovered over your body and spread your legs apart. “You’re very cute, baby.” Wanda complimented, inching her hands up your inner thighs.
“Did you hear that, bunny? She thinks you’re cute, what do you say?” Natasha’s cold hand trailed up and down your torso.
“Thank you, Wanda.”
“You’re very welcome, sweetheart.” Wanda beamed. She looked at the redhead for approval while teasing your entrance with her fingers.
“Come on, Wanda, give her what she needs from you.” Two of Wanda’s digits plunged inside of you, steadily pumping into your core.
“Fuck.” Wanda whispered, feeling your cunt clench around her. Her free hand moved up to your neck and wrapped around it. “Do you like being fucked while your Mommy watches?”
Your eyes snapped towards Natasha who silently told you to answer for yourself. The redhead tucked her head in the crook of your neck and slipped her hand between her legs. “Yes.”
“Your Mommy should share you more often then,” Wanda smirked, gently squeezing your throat. She leaned down and pumped her fingers at a faster rate. Her hands were warm, a stark contrast to the cold rings she was wearing. You could feel them rubbing against your sweet spot every time Wanda’s fingers entered you.
“I’m not one to share my things, Wanda. This is just a little welcoming gift for you, don’t expect to see more of us.” Natasha ground against her hand, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone.
Wanda noticed that your attention was elsewhere, following your gaze towards her chest. You were enamored by the necklace hanging from her neck. “You wanna bite them, honey?”
After you had given her a sign of approval, she leaned down further, encouraging you to latch on to the piece of jewelry. You bit down on the necklace, holding it in your mouth.
“That’s it, good girl.” Wanda used her thumb to toy with your clit. “Your Mommy looks close, darling. Wanna cum with her?”
“Cum for Wanda,” Natasha commanded. Her fingers slammed into her pussy as she rode out her high. You released onto Wanda’s digits soon, coating them in your arousal. “We’re not done with you, bunny. You’re going to cum for us one last time.”
Natasha got off the bed and headed into the closet before returning with an item that was too familiar to you. “Since you’re our guest, you can use her favorite toy on her pussy.”
All of Wanda’s confidence left her when she saw the strap-on in Natasha’s hand. While she had been on the receiving end a few times, she’d never gotten the chance to use it on someone.
“You’ve never done this before, have you, honey?” Natasha asked. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll teach you everything you need to know about making my little girl squirm. Shouldn't be too hard since she’s a desperate slut.”
The redhead passed the toy off to Wanda and whispered something in your ear. When she looked back at the younger girl, she was standing there cluelessly.
“Must I do everything myself?” Natasha rolled her eyes in annoyance, helping Wanda into the harness. “You get the general idea, right?” Wanda nodded. “Then you can take it from here.”
“Yeah,” Wanda replied shakily, raking her eyes over your figure. She kneeled on the edge of the bed, settling between your legs.
“What are you waiting for, Maximoff? Give my bunny something to remember you by.” Natasha ordered, losing her patience.
“I was getting there.” Wanda aligned the fake cock with your awaiting cunt. Your breath hitched when the brunette started to ease the dildo inside of you. Although the strap-on secured around Wanda’s hips was your favorite toy Nat owned, it had been a while since she had last used it on you.
“It’s okay, she’s almost there, bunny. Only a few more inches.” Natasha said, tracing patterns on your thigh. “Keep going, Wanda. She can handle it, don’t worry.”
Wanda snapped her hips forward, filling you completely with the toy. Natasha moved behind Wanda and waited until you had relaxed before grabbing the Sokovian’s hips. “What are you-”
“I’m making things easier for you,” Natasha mumbled, guiding Wanda to gently rock her hips. Once she had realized what Natasha was doing, Wanda pulled the strap out of you before slamming it back in. “You’re a quick learner, you’ve already gotten the hang of this.”
Natasha let go of Wanda and moved up the bed. She threw one of her legs over your head, straddling your face. “Do you want Mommy’s pussy, sweetheart?”
“Yes, please give me your pussy, Mommy.” you pleaded. Natasha lowered herself onto your face, rubbing her cunt against your mouth. “That’s a good girl, taking Wanda’s cock so well.”
You eagerly licked at Natasha’s cunt, hooking your arms around her thighs. Wanda thrust the cock in and out of your cunt. “Look at this messy pussy, Nat.”
“My stupid little bunny.” Natasha cooed, reaching to rub at your clit. “She’s so horny that she can’t think properly. Just wants to have her pussy stuffed like a good cockslut.”
Her other hand went underneath your head, holding your face close to her heat. She ground down against your tongue harder. “You’re gonna make Mommy cum all over your pretty face, honey.”
You stuck your tongue out, sliding it inside of Natasha’s entrance. Your girlfriend came on your mouth, grinding against your tongue. Natasha got off of you and licked her cum off of your face. She pressed down on your clit harder as Wanda’s thrusts got rougher.
“Is my darling girl ready to cum for us?”
“Yes, Mommy,” you answered. “Wanna cum for you and Wanda.”
Natasha rubbed her tight circles around your overstimulated clit. “Then be a good girl cum for us, bunny.” You cried out one last time before coming undone around the toy.
Wanda withdrew the dildo from you and removed the strap-on. Natasha was quick to come to your side, using a damp cloth to clean you up. “Such a good girl.”
“Are you sure you don’t wanna share more often?” Wanda smirked. Natasha tucked you under the covers and pushed Wanda down on the bed.
“I’ll think about it,” Natasha replied, laying on her stomach between Wanda’s legs. “But first let me take care of you.”
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"He's kinda hot, isn't he?"
Anakin tried not to choke on his coffee. Leia's comment had caught him completely off guard.
"I guess we could say he's conventionally attractive, yes," commented Obi-Wan from the car seat behind them.
The three of them were inside Anakin's car, parked in the University parking lot, waiting for Luke to come out of the building. They were planning a surprise pick-up and dinner, since Leia was back in town for a week and they hadn't actually told him yet. His class was probably finishing late, because Leia had gone bored waiting and had started to analyze the people hanging out around the building as entertainment. A tall man in a leather jacket resting against a motorcycle and texting on a shitty-looking phone had caught her attention. He had dark scruffy hair, a mustache, and aviator sunglasses that completed the hot biker look.
"He's hot and he knows it," she pointed out.
Anakin followed her line of sight and nodded. "The roses are a nice touch."
There was a bouquet of roses resting on the motorcycle's seat. Hottie was probably waiting for his date.
"I like the jacket," Obi-Wan said.
"Yeah, and the motorcycle? A beauty!"
Leia rolled her eyes. "Of course you would like the motorcycle, Dad."
The three of them admired the man as he ruffled his curly dark hair.
"Do you think he's waiting for someone?" said Obi-Wan.
"That's adorable," said Leia, "Han never did that for me."
Anakin scoffed. "That's because he's an idiot. You can do so much better."
"Dad! We've been over this. I love my husband because he's an idiot. He's a good idiot."
Anakin ignored her.
"I remember when you waited for Padmé with that bouquet of lilies outside of her apartment," said Obi-Wan. "It was pouring with rain, but you still waited for half an hour."
"Turned out she was allergic," grumbled Anakin, and Leia laughed. "It was a disaster."
An influx of people coming out of the building caught Leia's attention. She scanned the crowd until she saw a blonde wearing a bright orange designer jacket, sticking out from everyone else, rushing down the stairs.
"Hey, that's Luke!"
Leia was about to get down from the car to greet her twin brother when she saw him head down straight towards Hottie. In less than a second, the man raised his head and smiled as Luke threw his arms around his neck and basically jumped him. The man caught him expertly mid-air and held him close as they kissed in greeting.
Leia blinked in surprise, and then a mischievous smile slowly formed in her face as she watched her brother make out with the mysterious stranger for like a full minute. She was quick to pull out her phone and take a sneaky picture of them.
"Interesting," commented Obi-Wan.
Luke finally let go of the man, smiling so brightly one could swear it was his birthday. And then Hottie pulled out the flowers, which Leia was sure made Luke full-on melt. He buried his nose in the flowers and blushed to the tip of his ears.
It was so sweet and adorable, Leia thought she would get sick.
Anakin was strangely silent.
The three of them watched, too shocked and entertained to dare interrupt, as Hottie offered Luke an additional helmet. He accepted it with enthusiasm and climbed on the motorcycle behind the man, hugging his waist closely.
Luke and his mysterious biker boyfriend exited the parking lot completely unaware of the audience that had been watching them.
The second they disappeared completely from view, Anakin spoke. "I hate him."
Obi-Wan just laughed.
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(inspired by @saturdaysky, who knows what they did, and lovingly betaed by @dawl-and-dapple)
Beau is the first person to notice.
It’s not rare to see Professor Widogast haunting the halls of the Cobalt Soul Archive in Rexxentrum nowadays, either guiding a small contingent of students or alone. The archivists and librarians are as used to his presence as they are to Beau’s, who visits much more infrequently.
She’s walking past the main reading hall when she sees a familiar flash of silver hair, neatly tied back and falling over a very fine, very boring black coat. (“You look very distinguished,” Yasha had commented earnestly, just as Beau was saying, “You look old.” They were both right; Beau had just omitted that ‘old, distinguished professor’ was a very good look on Caleb.)
Sitting alone at a large wooden table, Caleb is… either reading or trying to dive into the large tome in front of him, judging from the way he’s hunched over it. She doesn’t have any choice but to walk over.
“You’ll hurt yourself,” she says, in lieu of a greeting.
Still with his nose almost on the page, Caleb’s reply is calm and unbothered. “Hello, Beauregard.”
She had hoped to catch him by surprise, but either she hasn’t been very sneaky or he’s grown eyes behind his head. Well, those are not the eyes he has to worry about. “How long has this been going on?”
Eventually, Caleb straightens — making a piss poor job of hiding how painful the process is to his back and probably everything else as well — and blinks owlishly as he focuses on her. “I have no idea what you mean.”
With a sigh, she crosses her arms. “You need glasses, man,” she says, a moment before three different people shush her, since they are, after all, in a library.
It was a simple truth. Caleb was smart enough to recognise it and practical enough to do something about it. The whole affair was relatively harmless, if he ignored Beau’s teasing that now he really looked old (and he did ignore it), and resulted in the pair of round lenses held together by a thin metal frame currently sitting on his nose.
It only took him a couple of days to get used to his new glasses, and now he even feels oddly naked without them.
Most of the time, he forgets he’s wearing them.
Case in point, he’s not thinking about them at all the next time the Teleportation circle etched in the laboratory’s floor flashes up. A bit later than arranged, but still in time for dinner, a small, cloaked figure materialises with a tired sigh, hovering over the now opaque runes and making Caleb’s house feel a little more like a home.
Closing the book he was reading (now without much effort) as he waited, Caleb looks up. “Everything alright, schatz?”
Patting dust off himself, Essek floats out of the circle without looking up. Both the state of his clothes and his tired expression speak of a long day, maybe even a long week, but he looks otherwise safe and unharmed.
“Just an excess of caution on my part, but I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t— oh.”
Alarmed by Essek’s suddenly stricken expression, Caleb stands up. Before he can ask what’s wrong, though, the drow has drifted all the way up to him. The next thing Caleb knows is a pair of cold, soft hands on his cheeks, gently tilting his head.
Essek has an open invitation to touch him when and however he likes without asking for permission each time, but he rarely invokes this right. Perhaps because he’s rarely at a loss for words.
By now, Caleb has remembered the small change in his appearance. “Ah, yes. I’m afraid they were a necessity. Age is not kind to one’s eyesight, apparently.”
“Mmm.” Oblivious to his blabbering, Essek seems unable to tear his eyes away from him. As unexpected as it is, this intensity is more than a little flattering. His hands slide from Caleb’s face to his chest, applying a light but unmistakable pressure. When he speaks, his voice is a little huskier than usual. “Would you sit down again, please?”
This is, despite its formulation, not a question. As he complies, Caleb feels gravity adjust around him, and instead of hitting the surface of the couch, he alights on it with the gentleness of a feather.
A moment later, there’s a very determined-looking drow straddling his lap, his slight frame made even lighter by his manipulation of gravity.
Even as his hands find their place on Essek’s hips, Caleb starts to say, “Dinner is—”
Essek stops taking off his own cloak to press a finger on his lips. “Dinner can wait.” His fingers move, stroking his cheek and not quite touching the lower rim of the glasses, and end up tangled in the hair at the back of his head. “Can you keep them on?”
He looks so serious that Caleb makes a mental note to tease him about this. Later. “Let’s find out.”
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It was a beautiful day, the cloudless sky looked in its mirror and found the waves had subsided enough for proper self-admiration. There were little sounds of plish-plosh, plish-plosh as Aziraphale made his way across the surface of the ocean in a state of dudgeon, like an angry beetle striding across a vast pond.
A voice drifted westward from a small atoll, a voice like succulent fruit after months of dried beef and stale bread, like a fitful night’s sleep after days of watching. A voice like honey from the wildest of flowers.
“Excuse me!” Aziraphale called out, waving his arms at the figure lying on the sandy strip of the atoll before him. “Hello, yes, I really must insist you stop that singing, our crew are so, erm, enthralled by your performance they’ve almost run the ship aground twice now.”
Plodding forward across the water, Aziraphale could see the figure was almost entirely obscured by an immense amount of shiny and oddly dark red hair. They did not appear to be clothed underneath all the hair, but where there should have been legs (and other matters between them), there was only a long, scaly tail that looped into the water.
The singing stopped.
“Angel?!” the mop of hair inquired.
“Oh no no no,” Aziraphale said. “What the devil are you doing here, Crowley, trying to get decent people drowned?”
“Lovely to see you too, Aziraphale.”
“Crowley, I’ve been stuck inside that dreadful-smelling ship for weeks on end, I’m not in the mood for your laughing off attempted murder!”
Crowley picked a small bit of seaweed from his hair in apparent irritation.
“M’not trying to drown anyone, angel--what good would that even do? You off a bunch of good people and Heaven’s got that many more. Much better to entice them a little.”
“Good luck with that,” Aziraphale said waspishly.
Crowley grinned. “Why’ve they got an angel on board, anyway?”
Aziraphale tapped his foot on the water and tried not to look at the uncanny junction of skin and scales on Crowley’s belly, which was strangely distracting.
“There’s an awful lot of superstition about these waters. My superiors don’t approve of that sort of thing, especially not when it turns out that sailors are being diverted from their honest business by--by ersatz mermaids posing seductively on sand bars!”
Crowley raised an eyebrow.
“So you do think I look seductive.”
Aziraphale sniffed. “Well, I assume that’s the intent.”
“M’not a mermaid, you know, I haven’t got the fin-thingies figured out,” Crowley said, withdrawing his tail from the water to demonstrate its lack of aquatic appendages and wiggling a little. “D’you want a drink, angel? I’ve got some spiced rum and an unopened coconut...”
The open ocean, Aziraphale reflected, was a strange thing. Wandering endlessly between two wobbling disks of sea and sky could make the most unerring of angels a little disoriented, so surely it was no cause for concern that watching Crowley slithering on the rim of the atoll made him feel a bit light-headed. Perhaps he was suffering from heatstroke.
“Perfectly,” Aziraphale lied. “I suppose I’ll take a drink if you’ll tell me where you learned to sing like that.”
Crowley’s face broke into a worrisome grin and he snapped his fingers. Two frosty glasses of what Aziraphale would later learn to identify as pina colada appeared in their hands, complete with exorbitant dollops of whipped cream.
“It’s this thing doing the singing,” Crowley said, holding up a conch shell. When he tapped it, the enchanting voice began to play from its interior. “I tried doing my own singing, but my high range isn’t spectacular, and I think I just frightened the crabs.”
“So you made this?”
“Yeah--took ages to set the spell properly, had to bring this thing back to my office for a week to let the hex sink in.”
“May I?” Aziraphale asked, setting down his pina colada.
Crowley passed him the shell. Aziraphale gazed at it in wonder, in awe, in delight. Then he threw it as hard as he could into the sea.
“Are you fucking--angel, that must be ten leagues off!”
“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, picking up his glass. “How clumsy of me.”
Crowley lunged for him, but apparently forgot that he didn’t have any legs, and flopped onto the sand with all the grace of a fish abandoned by the tide.
“You wait until I get that shell back, angel! It’ll be Odysseus Two Point Oh for your stupid boat!”
“Lovely, dear, I look forward to the concert,” Aziraphale replied, and he sipped on his drink as he walked back over the waves.
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I’ve Told You Now - Bucky Barnes smut
The one where alpha!Bucky fucks you in front of the other avengers
Warnings: smut, a/b/o dynamics, public sex, oral (f), p in v, possessiveness
Word count: 2.3k
A/N: Thank you to my lovely @wakingbeauty for giving this a read for me! This is strictly the product of mine and @navybrat817‘s belief that public sex should be more common in A/B/O dynamics, so there you have it 😊 Also, I used a prompt the sweet @jbreenr gave me ages ago for a headcanon and I asked to save it for this story since it made such perfect sense! Hope you guys like it! I might write more public sex A/B/O smut in the very near future!
Everyday was the same. I’d wake up and join the rest of the team for breakfast to find out that despite the fact that someone had saved me a seat, that same someone had thought of a new joke to make at my expense.
If I thought Tony’s nicknames were bad, this was a whole new level. It’s like she wanted to find all the little ways to annoy me, while still remaining mindful of my recovery process and triggers.
I’d never met an omega like that before. Back in my time, omegas were mostly prim and proper, almost shy around alphas, even if they were starting to show a little more skin and entertain the possibility of staying closer to us for longer periods of time.
I wasn’t used to someone who felt so comfortable with my intimidating aura, and the alpha in me definitely couldn’t grow used to seeing so much of her skin all the time. By now, I was sure she was doing it on purpose.
She knew how it affected me, she could smell it - every omega was able to identify when a nearby alpha was aroused. And I knew it turned her on in return. I was also biologically wired to sense that.
It was basically a game of who would break first. And I knew she thought she would win, but my resolve still wasn’t broken.
“Ah… What a lovely day. So full of possibilities… if you’re not a hundred years old,” she quickly added, throwing me a glance that had me rolling my eyes. “What do you say, grandpa? Feel like going out for a run?”
Who knows what I would have answered if she hadn’t decided to pull her hair up right at the second Wanda opened the window to look out into the field? The smile that had been on my face quickly dropped when I was hit with a heavy wave of her scent and my knees buckled as I tried to hold myself back from just jumping on top of her.
Unfortunately, because awareness was not something she seemed capable of having, she did not realize my struggle. “What’s wrong, old man? Can’t even keep up anymore?” The growl that escaped my chest at her joke was all the warning she needed to finally understand what was going on.
“I’ll show you what I can keep up.” I was on her in a second, my consciousness of our surroundings reduced to absolutely nothing. It was only her and me, and the way our lips moved as I guided her back to the couch, until we both fell on top of it.
“Is this what you wanted, huh?” I asked as I tore her shirt with a simple flick of my wrist. “Is this how you wanted it to happen? For me to lose all control and just take you right here?” All that left her was a garbled sound, her hands clawing at my back as I easily got rid of her jeans until they were nothing but scraps on the floor and then exposed her pussy to the tower’s living room.
“Fuck yes,” I growled, immediately leaning down to get a taste of her. Sweet and wet and mine, all mine. I had no idea where that possessive instinct had come from, but I would be crazy to ignore it - especially since it felt like I’d kill and die for her at that very second.
Her hips jerked up, instinctively searching for my tongue, but a breeze of clarity seemed to brush over her and make her sit up on her elbows, looking down at me. I knew what was running through her mind before she said it, and I wasn’t having any of it.
“You better lay back down and let me savor my meal,” I warned, knowing the rest of the team had gathered around to watch the show. I didn’t have to take my eyes off her debauched state to know it, but her gaze was on them, even if the rest of her body was still spread open for anyone to see, uncaring of the fact that we were being watched.
“You poked the beast, now you’ll entertain it,” Steve warned, shaking his head as if to scold us, but when I met his eyes, I could see the glint of desire in them. He wanted to be in my position, he wanted to have his own tongue shoved deep inside my girl’s pussy, and it only made me eat her more hungrily.
“Eyes on me, ‘mega,” I called out to her once I saw her eyes linger on Steve. “Let them watch, that’ll keep them away from you.” She groaned at the possessiveness in my words, but it was the sounds of someone who was relishing in it. And I was relishing in her juices.
“Fuck!” She cursed when I buried my tongue as far as it could go in her, something deep inside of me desperate to be drowning in her scent. “Should have gotten you mad before.”
The thought was amusing to me. Did she really think this was only the result of pent-up anger, and not months of desire and lust that had finally spilled from my weakened resolve?
“Well…” I started, pushing two fingers inside of her to scissor her open for me, although my scent had already made her body as prepared for an Alpha an Omega could get.
I was a bit larger than usual Alphas, though - courtesy of the serum - so I wanted to make sure she wouldn’t go through any pain whatsoever. “You keep me mad all the fucking time, kitten.”
“With desire or anger, it doesn’t really care,” he continued, like it was any ordinary day and we were chatting in the living room, our usual teasing banter taking over the conversation, instead of him eating me out on the couch in front of all of our teammates while I was spread out for their eyes to take in.
“You’re always a tease to me, in one way or another.” His huge hands massaged the inside of my thighs as he finally lowered himself to suck on my nub again, making me instinctively buck my hips up in search of his tongue.
“Stay…” he ordered in his Alpha tone, and the whine that broke free from my chest was more animal than human now. The way he used his mouth was nothing short of sinful, licking me from ass to clit with an eagerness I had never expected the former Winter Soldier to have.
But I guess today I was discovering all of my fantasies about Bucky had been a bit misplaced. For one, I never thought he’d be the type of Alpha to take me in such a public environment.
In every dirty dream I’d had, Bucky was far too possessive to allow anyone to explore what was his - even if it was only visually - but what I’d come to learn was that while he was definitely dominating, there was a hint of exhibitionism in his craving.
He liked to have people see him break me into a million pieces only to glue me back together with a lick of his tongue. He liked that they were seeing his talent - and I had to admit, by what I saw in his friend’s stare, that they were also admiring me too.
And he got off on that. I didn’t expect it would make me get off too.
“Delicious,” he hummed when he finally pulled away from my cunt, having brought me to my release and licked it off of me. Still, an overwhelming amount of wetness covered the lower part of his face, prompting me to raise myself to my elbows and lick my own juices off of his lips, the omega in me begging to scent him as mine.
“You’re a nasty little bitch, aren’t you?” He chuckled once the surprise faded away, easily manhandling me onto my stomach, the sound of a zipper being opened denouncing that he had undressed.
“Keep fucking me and you’ll find out.” I heard him spitting behind me, a shiver running up my spine as I realized he was playing with himself while looking at me presenting for him.
“Oh, I’ll do much better than that.” That was all the warning I got before I felt the head of his member poking my entrance, slowly but surely sliding in until he had bottomed out.
My whines became intensified when he pulled me up by my hair, his free hand covering my breast to rub my nipple as he whispered, “I’m gonna claim you, sweetheart. You think you’re ready for that? Think you’ll be able to take it?”
I was quickly realizing I had severely underestimated the man inside of me, even if not to the extent he thought I had. I was not ready for that. I don’t think I ever would be, but fuck if I wasn’t gonna take it anyway.
Because it was so much better than I ever imagined it to be.
“No more playing hard-to-get,” Bucky continued, finally starting to move and immediately settling on a punishing pace. “No more teasing me with your short skirts and tempting scent. You’ll be mine now, ‘mega. Forever. How does that sound?”
God, I wanted him to do it. I wanted him to keep exercising this complete control over my body that he had so easily managed to take. His cock was stretching me in ways I’d never been stretched before, his inflated knot slamming against my opening with each thrust.
“Always mocking me… Am I too old for you now?” I shivered as he licked a stripe up my neck. I knew he wouldn’t actually bite me in front of everyone - a claiming ritual was a sacred ritual, even the most feral of Alphas respected the intimacy of that. But the way he was taunting me was all too arousing, I couldn’t deny it. “Tell me.”
His hand squeezed my hip, looking for an answer. I tried to open my mouth, but nothing came out. His palm slipped further down, finding my clit, and as two fingers rubbed my own juices, around it, I screamed.
“N-No!” Bucky chuckled against my neck, body continuing his onslaught against mine as he nuzzled my scent gland. “Y-you’re not too old for me. Take me, take me please.” His coos were too provoking, making me cry out loud at the mocking sound.
“Aw, kitten…” His warm mouth breathed the next words against my ear, “I already did.” He turned my face towards his with his fingers tangled in my hair, engulfing my mouth with his.
“Alright.” A familiar voice spoke from not too far, startling me for a second as I once again was reminded that we were still very much surrounded by our team. “You two might just be the sexiest mates I’ve ever seen fuck.”
A growl escaped Bucky’s chest at hearing someone refer to us as mates for the first time, and I panted in need, desperate to cum, desperate for him. “Seen a lot of mates fuck, Romanoff?” He nibbled at my ear, hands roaming over my body as if to make it very clear to every person watching that they could look all they wanted, I was still his.
“You have no idea.” Looking over a bit to the side from where she was seated, there rested Sam’s almost limp body, a hand curled over his boner as his eyes never wavered from the place I was connected to the man behind me.
“Well, I know what I’m gonna think about tonight.” Something between a laugh and a moan escaped me, making Bucky growl again, hands pushing me back down onto the couch as his hips picked up the pace with which they’d ruin me.
To say I was soaked was the understatement of the century. I could feel it, running down my thighs, drenching the couch underneath me. I don’t know how we’d be able to use it again, but that was the least of my concerns in the moment.
“I am begging you to let me lick her pussy after you guys are done,” came Tony’s voice, and I knew Bucky would growl in his direction just from the way his fingers pressed tightly on the flesh of my hips. “Not that type of Alpha, sorry, I got it.”
I heard his footsteps retreating quickly, probably scared of what Bucky would do to him once we were done, but in the Alpha’s defense, Tony seemed to disappear from his mind the second he left the room, all of his senses directed to me and his goal of making me cum around his cock.
“C’mon, kitten,” he whispered, fingers easily locating my clit to play with me as he pulled me up to rest against his chest one more. “Come for me, milk me dry.” That was all I needed to give him what he wanted, and although I was anticipating to moan loudly as I creamed his knot, his mouth covered mine to swallow all of my sounds in a deep kiss, hands protectively covering me while pawing at my breasts at the same time.
“Steve,” Bucky called after he managed to catch his breath, having fallen on top of me on the couch once his knot popped open. “I won’t be able to work out with you today.”
I looked up as best as I could to find Steve already staring at us, although red from head to toe. “That’s understandable,” he spoke in a thick, rough voice that I barely recognized as his. “You seem to have worked out enough already.”
Bucky stopped running his nose against my cheek at his friend’s attempt at teasing, a slow smirk taking over his face as he joined me and stared at his friend. “Oh, I’m not nearly done,” he warned. “You’re more than welcome to join us for some cardio, if you want to.”
The soft smile Steve sent our way told us everything we needed to know about his plans for the evening.
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pairing(s): milf!wandanat x collegestudent!reader
a/n: writing this reminded me of how it’s been so long since i’ve consumed porn that isn’t written. so like if the comment system doesn’t properly reflect OF’s, pls pretend like they do ;_;
summary (based off this ask): your girlfriends finally find out what you do for a living.
warnings (18+ only): smut, unspecified yet legal age gap, sex work, filming sex, ski masks, mommy kink, daddy kink, praise kink, verbal humiliation, masturbation, vaginal fingering, ball gag, vibrators, forced orgasm, overstimulation (?), cum filled strap-ons, spitroasting, double penetration, cringey usernames (yes, i’m apologizing in advance)
words: 2.2k | marvel masterlist. | navigation post.
you do not have permission to translate/repost my works anywhere! likes, comments, and reblogs are always welcome & appreciated <3
The front door swung open, loudly slamming against the wall. “Sorry,” you mumbled, bowing your head in embarrassment before entering the house. You felt the roaming eyes of your girlfriends burning into your body. They were probably looking at you in that way because they had made it clear that they weren’t fond of you slamming doors.
“How was class?” Wanda asked. Beside her, Natasha was observing your every move while you navigated throughout the room, returning your belongings to their original locations.
“It was fine.” you sighed. “Good as it could be for an exam day. How was work? Did anything interesting happen today?”
“We actually got off early today, which is why we’re back before you are,” Natasha said, opening her laptop. “We would’ve loved to wait for you to get home, but we couldn’t help ourselves.”
“Ah.” you nodded. “You know I don’t mind you guys have sex without me. We do that all the time when one of you is out. Although it would’ve been nice to watch.” you giggled, sliding into Wanda's lap.
“You may have not been here to watch us, but we were definitely able to watch you.” Wanda purred, pressing kisses along your jaw. Natasha watched in amusement as you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.
“What do you mean?” Your eyes widened as familiar moans filled your ears. Natasha turned her laptop, so you could see her screen. They had managed to find your Only Fans account. You had planned to tell them on your own terms eventually, but they had beat you to it. “I- I could explain-”
“There’s nothing you have to explain, princess.” Natasha grabbed your jaw, turning you to face her. “It’s okay, alright? But I think we need to show everyone that you’re taken.”
Right as you opened your mouth, Wanda began to speak. “Go into the bedroom and log into your account, you’re doing a live show right now and we’re going to help you.”
You had your camera and laptop set up by the bed, leaving you to wait for your girlfriends to join you so you could go live. They entered shortly after with ski masks covering their faces. “Where did you even get those from?”
“Does it really matter?”
“No offense, but isn’t this kinda ridiculous? I could just angle the camera so our faces aren’t in the frame.” you reasoned, watching Natasha gather a few of her favorite toys to use on you.
“But we want to show you off, sweetheart,” Wanda explained. “Don’t question us, especially when you think it’s kinda hot.”
“I never said that.”
“Your pussy says otherwise, honey.” Natasha purred, slapping your legs apart. “We wanna watch you first. I think we should see what your little fans love about you in person.”
Reaching for your laptop, you started the live and waited for a few hundred people to hop on. “You’ve got a full house today, hm?” Wanda whispered. She stood behind the camera with Natasha, both watching intently as you inched your hand down your body.
pu$syluver: omgomgomg did anyone else hear that?!
hoezonmystrap: ooh she’s not alone this time
“Touch yourself for us, bunny,” Natasha instructed, pulling Wanda closer to her. “What are you waiting for, precious? There’s an audience waiting for you to put on a show.”
“I want you to do it, Mommy.”
“We‘ll get to that, darling. Don’t you want to make Mommy happy by doing what she asks?” Natasha pouted.
“Then go ahead and make her proud, sweets.” Wanda purred, placing kisses along Natasha’s neck. You whined, plunging two fingers inside of your entrance. “What’s wrong, dove? Can’t handle not being allowed to touch Mommy and Daddy?”
“No.” you whimpered, slowly pumping your digits into your cunt. They were seriously going to leave you to fend for yourself while they put their hands all over each other.
“That’s too bad.” Natasha teased. “It's only fair for us to give you a show if you’re giving us one- even if it's in front of so many other people.”
BenDover69: I wanna see what the other two are doing too ;)
“Sorry, only our cute little bunny gets that right.” Wanda chuckled, curling her lips around one of Natasha’s nipples. The redhead met your eyes as Wanda’s fingers entered her.
You ground back against your hand while you watched the Sokovian work her fingers in and out of your girlfriend’s core. “Does our sweet girl want to cum?”
“Yes, Daddy.” you moaned, stroking your clit with your other hand. “I wanna cum for you and Mommy. Please let me cum.”
“Go ahead and cum for us.” Natasha pushed her hips towards Wanda's hand as she came undone around her digits. You let out a sound of disapproval, grinding against your fingers. It wasn’t enough, you needed their assistance.
“What’s that? You can’t make yourself cum when we’re around?” Natasha cooed. “You’re too greedy for us, always needing us to step in and take care of
your slutty pussy.”
“Do you need a little help from us, baby?” Wanda withdrew her fingers from Natasha’s cunt and moved to where you laid on the bed. She kneeled beside you, shoving her digits into your mouth.
The Russian wrapped her hand around your wrist, pulling it away from your heat. She replaced your fingers with her own, roughly pumping them. Her free hand pinned your hips to the mattress underneath you.
You sucked Natasha’s arousal off of Wanda’s fingers, swiping your tongue between her digits. “You like it when we fuck you in front of so many people, don’t you?”
Your tongue licked at the pads of her fingers as she pulled them out of your mouth for you to answer. “Yes, Daddy. I want everyone to know that I’m your and Mommy’s slut.”
“Yeah, you’re our cute little slut.” Natasha pressed a soft kiss to your clit before curling her lips around the swollen nub. She sucked it into her mouth harshly, adding a third finger inside your cunt.
“Cum all over Mommy’s face, honey.” Wanda encouraged, kneading your breasts. She leaned down and latched onto one of your nipples. You arched towards her mouth as she flicked her tongue over the hardened peak.
Your cunt clenched around the Russian’s digits before you released onto her hand. Natasha removed her fingers from your core and reached for the vibrating wand she had brought out while Wanda helped you sit up. She leaned your back against her torso for support. Natasha switched the wand on and placed it on your thigh.
“What’s the matter, bunny?” Natasha asked, running it up and down the inside of your leg. “Did you want Mommy to stop?”
“It’s not that.” you huffed impatiently, reaching for the toy. Natasha’s hand smacked yours away.
“Do you really want to be a brat right now?” Natasha snapped. “Did you want us to show your viewers how easily we put you back in your place?”
“No, Mommy.” you sighed defeatedly.
“Then you tell Mommy and Daddy what you want from them like a good girl.”
“No, you ask us politely.” Wanda corrected.
supersoaker3000: oh god pls just ask them already
“They’re waiting on you, honey.” Natasha teased, moving the vibrator closer to your heat. “You don’t want to disappoint them, do you?”
You set your pride aside and decided that you could give them a difficult time at a later date- well, once the cameras were off. “Please move it higher, Mommy.”
“Why didn’t you just ask earlier, baby?” Natasha mocked, trailing the toy up your leg and onto your lower stomach. “Is that high enough for you, doll?”
“A little lower,” you whispered. Your hands dug into the sheets in anticipation. You hoped that the Russian would cave and give you what you wanted.
“Here?” Natasha husked, pressing the vibe against your mound. “Is this better?” Your head fell back against Wanda’s shoulder as the toy buzzed against your cunt.
“I think it is, Nat.” Wanda chuckled, reaching around you to pinch your nipples. “Look at our slut, she’s practically humping your hand.”
You clamped your thighs shut when Natasha turned the vibrator up by one setting. “Wanda, keep her legs open.” The brunette obliged, keeping them from pressing together.
“Aw, what’s wrong? You can’t handle it, dove?” Wanda pouted mockingly, tugging on your pebbled peaks. “Does that hurt, darling? Is this too much for you?”
“She’s being too loud. Your fans can hear you loud and clear already, honey. There’s no reason to make so much noise.”
“What else did you expect from our slutty little bunny?” Wanda held a ball gag in front of your face. “Open up, princess.”
You parted your lips, allowing your girlfriend to slide the gag into your mouth. Wanda adjusted the strap and secured it around your head.
“There we go, that should do it.” Wanda grinned.
HornyBottom420: God, I wished I had someone to fuck me like that.
“You see that, baby?” Natasha asked. “You should be more grateful for what you have because so many other people want the same thing. Surely they would be more grateful, happily taking whatever we have to offer.”
The buzzing on your clit grew stronger as Natasha turned the toy up to its highest setting. “So do you want us to stop, or should we let you cum?”
You tried to speak, but all that came out of your mouth was incoherent babbling. The ball gag certainly didn’t help you either. “I guess she doesn’t wanna cum then, Wan. Otherwise the whore would’ve told us what she wanted.”
“Maybe they can decide for her,” Wanda suggested, referring to the people watching your stream. “That’s fair, right?”
“I suppose.” Natasha shrugged, pressing the vibrator further into you. Most users said they wanted to see you cum, so the pair figured that they’d give them what they wanted. Fortunately, that also happened to be what you wanted from your girlfriends. “I guess it’s your lucky day then, bunny.”
“But you have to cum right now or we won’t let you cum at all.” You mewled weakly as your arousal finally coated the vibe.
“Such a messy pussy.” Natasha said, turning the toy off and placing it aside. “All nice and ready for our cocks, don’t you think, Wan?”
“Almost.” Wanda and Natasha briefly stepped off the bed to secure the harnesses around their hips. Flipping you onto your hands and knees, Natasha kneeled behind you, teasing your entrance with the tip of the strap-on.
Wanda sat in front of you, tapping the dildo on your lips. “We’ve got your favorite ones, princess. We’re gonna fill your cunt up with our cum.”
You took Wanda’s strap into your mouth as Natasha eased hers into your core. Wanda placed her hands on either side of your head, holding you in place so she could drive the toy into your mouth on her own.
Natasha’s fingers pressed into your skin as she began to thrust the toy in and out of your cunt. “Look at you, honey. You’re taking my cock so well. I bet you can’t wait to have Wanda’s inside you too.”
“I’m sure she’s happy to have it in her mouth too. The whore loves sucking us off.” Wanda mocked, holding your head down on the cock. You gagged slightly, trying to mow your head up the dildo.
Wanda’s grip loosened, allowing you to pull your mouth off of the toy. She released some of the fake cum on your face, slipping her thumb into your mouth while she stroked the strap-on. “I think you’re ready to take both of us now.”
Natasha stilled her hips and pulled your body up so Wanda could settle underneath you. The brunette slowly slid her strap into your heat.
h4rrystyl3svib3: i should be the one pounding that pussy :(
“Funny that someone else thinks that they could fuck our whore.” Wanda mocked. “Who takes good care of your pussy, doll?”
“Only Daddy and Mommy do!” you squealed as both of the women started to thrust into you.
“That’s right, sweetheart, only we do.” Natasha reached around you, sliding her hand between your body and Wanda’s. The Russian stroked her digits over your sensitive bundle of nerves.
Your hips bucked forward when she gently pinched your clit. “You love when we stuff you with our straps, huh? Our pussy is always eager for us to fuck it.”
“It’s only ours to touch, bunny. That means that no one else can touch it, including you.” Natasha ground her hips into yours. You whimpered as one of the toys nudged against your sweet spot.
“Want us to fill you up now, sweetheart? Are you ready for our cum?”
“Please cum inside my pussy.” you whined, leaning down to kiss Wanda. The Sokovian’s lips moved slowly against yours as they filled you with the faux substance. You came undone around their straps, grinding against them as you tried to ride out your high.
Wanda wrapped her arms around you, allowing your body to rest against hers. Natasha slowly withdrew the dildo from your cunt, using her thumb to push the cum back inside of you.
s!mpform!lfs: bring them back another time!!!
“Oh, as if we’d ever let our little slut do this alone ever again.” Natasha scoffed, ending the live stream. “Your viewers are gonna be seeing us a lot more now, sweetheart. This pussy is ours to fuck and everyone’s gonna know who it belongs to.”
am i just now realizing the masks are pointless if they say each other’s names? yes, but we’re going with it (:
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anytime | bucky barnes
summary: bucky's having trouble sleeping and he just wants you around
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
warnings: none! this is completely self indulgent fluff
word count: 1k
a/n: i got the idea for this while watching law and order: organized crime bc detective stabler can't sleep due to his ptsd and i was just like, you KNOW he wants to call olivia for comfort. and yeah anyway. this fic would not exist if not for law and order and idk how i feel about that tbh
Bucky can’t sleep.
Which is nothing new for him. His bed is too big, he can’t turn his thoughts off, he’s exhausted but he’s not tired. He’d moved to the floor, which at least made him feel more solid in his surroundings- the hardwood is unforgiving, but it’s a discomfort he’s become familiar with.
He sits up for the umpteenth time, turning to look at the clock on his bedside table as if he could make time go faster by force of will alone. It’s been ten minutes since the last time he checked and it feels like an hour. 1:07 AM.
His bed is too big, he can’t turn his thoughts off, and he’s going to break if he doesn’t get some respite from the images flashing through his mind.
Sighing, he decides he’s finally reached the point of giving in. There’s only one thing he knows will help, and he’s done trying to talk himself out of it.
You’re watching TV in your room- well, not so much watching as you are using it for background noise while you scroll through your phone- when the screen is taken over by an incoming call. You smile to yourself. Bucky was stubborn, always preferring to call rather than text, even though he was perfectly capable.
“Hey, Buck,” you said softly into the phone, barely above a whisper, respecting the late night hour even though you were alone in your room a few floors down from him.
“Hey,” he breathes, and you can sense his relief through the line.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, doll, everything’s…” he trails off, because it’s fine, but also it’s not, and he doesn’t know how to tell you that. He decides it’s best to just bite the bullet, he can’t take anymore overanalyzing. “I can’t sleep. Can you come up? Can you… stay?”
You’re silent on the line. Bucky’s never asked you anything like that before. The two of you are close, of course, but not like this. Not until now, anyway. You’re wondering if you heard him right or if you actually fell asleep and you’re having another hyper realistic dream when he speaks again.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to, I’m okay, I just-”
His voice snaps you out of it. “I’m on my way.”
An embarrassingly short amount of time later, you’re outside his door in your sleep shorts and a loose t-shirt, having shoved your feet into your slippers and all but ran out the door.
Before you can knock, he’s opening the door, standing in front of you in a similar outfit to yours.
“Hey, doll,” he says, softly, and you can read all his emotions in his eyes, tentatively stepping inside before wrapping your arms around him. He exhales in a slight chuckle, hugging you back and relaxing into your touch.
“Hey,” you speak into his chest as he reaches one arm out to push the door closed behind you.
You disentangle yourself, moving to his bed and settling yourself in the middle of it. He follows, leaning his back against the headboard, his outstretched legs grazing your folded ones, and you find it so easy to lean into his touch. Resting your head on his shoulder, he wraps his left arm around you, pulling you in closer, and you take note of the quiet room. No music, no TV on in the background, just him alone with his thoughts.
“What do you need, Buck?’’ you ask, tilting your head up to look at him.
His eyes meet yours. “Just needed you here,” he half smiles. “What were you doing before I called?”
You try to ignore the way your stomach flips at the way he said he needed you. “Nothing, really. I was just bored on my phone. I’m usually up later than everyone else, anyway. Just don’t really get tired til late,” you finish, yawning immediately after because your body loves to contradict you. You’d roll your eyes at yourself if he wasn’t looking at you.
“Well, I guess it is officially late then,” Bucky chuckles. “You wanna lie down?” he asks rhetorically, getting up to turn off the light. You immediately miss his presence beside you.
“So, how’re we doing this, Barnes? You wanna be big or little spoon?” your tone is sort of joking even though it’s an honest question, trying to bring some of your usual energy to the unfamiliar situation.
He rewards you with a genuine laugh, turning back to you and allowing you to revel in the way his smile lights up his face.
“You gonna jetpack me, doll?”
“If you want me to,” you say through a smile of your own.
“Next time, then,” he says, flipping the switch, the room lit only by moonlight now. “Wanna hold you now, if that’s okay.”
Your heart stutters at the admission, voice a little shaky when you respond. “‘Course it is.”
The bed dips with his weight, vibranium arm sneaking underneath the pillow before you rest your head on it, his right arm pulling you in flush with his body. It’s been a while since either of you have had someone to sleep next to, and you could swear you’ve never been more comfortable. You fully relax into him, every inch of your body touching some part of his.
Your shirt rucked up slightly in the process, and his hand rests directly on your skin, thumb moving in soothing strokes against your stomach.
“Is this okay?” he whispers, fanning over your neck.
You hum your agreement, afraid to say out loud that it’s more than okay, it’s perfect, knowing your voice would betray you if you tried.
It’s quiet after that, with Bucky focusing on the sound of your breathing and the feel of your soft skin on his, and, blissfully, nothing else.
Your consciousness is just starting to slip when he speaks again.
“Thanks for picking up the phone, doll.”
“Anytime, Buck,” you answer sleepily. “Everytime.”
The next night, he stays over in your room. From then on, you and Bucky don’t spend a single night apart if you can help it.
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I have been thinking about writing a cute, floaty Shadowgast first kiss since at least February, possibly even earlier than that, but it didn't fit in any of my WIPs. Then I realised that I could write it as a standalone, so here you go. Beta'ed by @dawl-and-dapple in trying circumstances; thanks for your service, friend 💜
Eventually, incredible as it sounds, there’s an after.
After all the adventuring, after saving the world, after figuring out how to ensure their safety and continued survival. There’s an after, and there’s a them.
Things are good. Maybe as good as they’ll ever be, definitely beyond Caleb’s wildest dreams. They are alive, and they are together, and they’ve had a Conversation, and for the next couple of weeks after that they just exist together. Somehow — and it’s not an easy feat — they manage to convince each other that they deserve a break.
So, not long after the Conversation, there’s a cottage on the Coast, which is more like a fancy shed, which leads Caleb to cast the Tower often. There are long, sleepy days, long, quiet nights, and long conversations that span them both; there are shared books and stories and knowledge.
And there’s Essek not exactly flinching every time Caleb touches him, but not not doing that either.
He always ends up leaning into Caleb’s hands, accepting his kisses on his knuckles, his cheek, the top of his head, but his pretty eyes are round as saucers and his posture reveals a clear attempt to smother his fight-or-flight instinct. And he never, ever initiates anything of the sort.
Caleb knows how foreign the concept of casual physical contact is to Essek. He knows because he says so in one of their convoluted conversations about personal boundaries.
“You know,” Caleb says as they’re finishing lunch, as casually as he can, “you don’t have to indulge me if you don’t want to.”
When Essek puts down his fork, the gesture is slow and deliberate. “I’m not indulging you,” he says quietly, looking at this plate, getting Caleb’s meaning at once. “And I appreciate your concern. I’m just… unaccustomed.”
He looks up at Caleb then, open and honest, and Caleb is reminded — not that he ever forgets it — that time works differently for him. That if he says he’s going to think about this for a while, his ‘while’ might very well encompass the rest of Caleb’s life. It’s just how it is.
“But I want to get accustomed,” Essek goes on, with an intensity that he doesn’t try to hide. He offers it to him, placing it between them like a gift. “Very much.”
In the silence that follows, Caleb takes in the set of his jaw, the straight line of his shoulders. When he holds his head high like this, Essek’s cheekbones look almost impossibly kissable. “Can I try something?”
Essek’s immediate, easy answer speaks of a trust that, once given, is unlikely to be taken back. “Of course.”
“Wait, I don’t have my components on me.” Caleb feels lilac eyes glued on him as he hurriedly folds his napkin and leaves it on the table.
When he comes back into the room, his padded paws don’t make any noise as he slinks up to Essek and deftly jumps in his lap.
The cat’s mind is simple but sharp. It doesn’t have a broad scope, but what it sees, it sees clearly. The desire to express affection to a beloved creature is easy to pursue and fulfill. The cat is satisfied when he rubs his cheeks on the underside of his beloved’s jaw, marking him with his scent, and he summons a loud rumble from his small, furry body when, after some forgivable tentativeness, careful hands start smoothing his fur.
It becomes a sort of habit. Essek is still second-guessing himself when it comes to touching human Caleb, even though now and then he’s the one to lean against Caleb while they’re sitting side by side, and his eyes are not enormous anymore when Caleb strokes his cheek. But pets and scratches come natural, almost automatic when Caleb turns into a cat. Even the small part of Caleb living in the cat’s consciousness enjoys them. It’s simple. Mindless. Pleasant.
It isn’t premeditated, but it’s also bound to happen. They’re in the Tower one night, on one of the library’s couches, with books, components, and writing supplies scattered around them. Caleb stretches and decides it’s time for a break.
His cat form shouldn’t be as tired as he feels, but evidently some of his exhaustion translates, because he falls asleep to gentle hands petting him.
And he wakes up to his hair being played with.
For a moment he’s not sure where he is or who’s holding him. Wispy tendrils of panic start to encircle him, when he hears Essek’s soft, soothing voice.
“Hello. You’re safe.”
The here and now start to assert themselves again, turning out to be ‘in Essek’s lap’ and ‘more than an hour after casting Polymorph on himself’ respectively. As soon as he realises it, Caleb feels his face flush. He must be crushing Essek, or making him uncomfortable; probably both.
He sits up, but he doesn’t go far, because the hand that isn't in his hair is pressed on his chest.
There’s no real force behind it, no dunamantic effect to keep him in place. It’s just touch.
Except there’s no ‘just touch’ when it’s Essek.
So Caleb stays where he is.
He keeps still as purple fingers leave his chest and reach up to Caleb’s cheek, lilac eyes following them with singular focus. They fly over Caleb’s brow, brushing across his forehead, his cheekbones, tracing the profile of his nose, pads catching on the stubble on his jaw. Caleb has always been half in love with the clockwork precision of Essek’s somatic gestures, and this feels no different than a carefully cast spell.
The moment holds its breath, suspended.
With calculated slowness, but not a mote of hesitation, Essek covers the distance between them. Caleb remembers to close his eyes moments before he feels Essek’s lips on his closed mouth, where they remain as his brain tries to catch up.
It’s a cliché, but Caleb’s stomach swoops. A sudden weightlessness settles in his guts, making him feel pleasantly light-headed.
Then something moves, and Caleb clutches Essek’s arms when he doesn’t feel the couch under him anymore. He pulls back, trying to angle himself so he hits the floor first.
No, they’re not on the couch anymore, but they’re not about to fall unceremoniously on the ground either.
They’re hovering. Books and components float out of the corner of Caleb’s eye, but he doesn’t look away from Essek, who looks utterly absorbed, and a little bit like someone who’s just been hit on the head. Caleb’s heart clenches with affection. It’s a good look on him.
He can’t help it; he leans forward, placing a quick kiss on the corner of Essek’s mouth. Essek doesn’t flinch. Caleb tries, but he can’t stop smiling. “Schatz, would you bring us down?”
Pale eyelashes flutter, and realisation dawns in Essek’s eyes a moment after he looks around, taking in the slightly different angle of the room and the objects floating around them like huge, weird butterflies.
Caleb has seen this man face a literal apocalypse with relative composure, wielding his power with ease and self-confidence, but there’s nothing controlled in the way everything clatters to the ground when he reverses the gravitational field too quickly.
They fall along with everything else, but the couch catches them, a soft, safe landing. Before Essek starts apologising, Caleb touches his lips. He still looks mortified, but he doesn’t flinch this time either.
“You can explain,” Caleb says, “or you can kiss me again.”
Essek’s indecision lasts for less than a second.
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Breathe - Chris Evans smut
The one where the new co-star is obsessed with the idea of making Chris hers, but he makes sure to show her you're the only one for him.
Warnings: smut, loyalty kink?, humiliation of a third-party, homewrecker, exhibitionism, second-hand embarrassment, mental name-calling, unwanted nudes, oral sex (f), brief sexual slapping, daddy, p in v, dirty talk, forced voyeurism, brief breeding kink, risky unprotected sex, mean!chris (but not to the reader)
Word count: 4.8k
Warnings: I’ve been waiting to share this one for a while. I think it’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. I’ve also written another piece called “Don’t Breathe” which is what I came up with when I thought what would be the exact opposite of this. It should come out soon! Special thanks to @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog for listening to my ideas and reading this first-hand to reassure me it was understandable AND good enough to post. I love you more than you’ll ever know!
“She’s trying to make you cheat, man.” The comment startled me, particularly because it was Anthony saying it. I knew he had a no-bullshit attitude. Even if he was a jokester by his very essence, all of his jokes came from a truthful reality - it’s what made them so funny.
But it was a shock to me to imagine this particular reality. I think it was all very clear from the way my mouth was hanging open, prompting the guys to chuckle even if they were very clearly pitying me.
“What? What…” I didn’t have to voice it, they rushed to explain it anyway.
“We figured you had noticed it!” Seb was quick to explain it, probably anxious I would be angry with them for not saying anything sooner. “It’s so in the face. Honestly, I don’t know how Y/N can take it.”
I thought back to my girlfriend of a year, how she’d been tired and stressed ever since filming started. I remembered asking her about it just last week, only to hear that the cause was exactly the girl we’d been talking about, the one who was playing the newest Marvel character and had been so eager to fit in with our little group.
Or at least I thought that’s what there was to it. I could see now that I’d been innocent, and my heart ached for the pain I most likely had caused on my girlfriend without even realizing. I hadn’t accused her of being crazy, of course, I’d just made sure to reassure her that I’d never cheat on her - because that was the truth.
But I’d also insisted on the fact that Jeanine had absolutely no interest in me whatsoever - because that’s what I thought. Seeing that I’d been mistaken wasn’t particularly hurtful to my ego, but it was worrying to me as I didn’t want to be the cause of any pain to Y/N.
“Shit, I had absolutely no idea.” I ran a hand over my face, trying to think back on everything that had happened between me and the new girl. “How did you guys…?”
“It’s obvious, man,” Anthony insisted, interrupting me once more. “She’s practically all over you any time you’re near. Remember that night we were supposed to go out for drinks and she spilled a beer all over you? She literally rubbed your chest right in front of Y/N and you just chuckled and pushed her away - much more delicately than you should have, by the way.”
Seb nodded, agreeing. “Yeah, and she offered to go back to your room with you, to help you put a fucking shirt on.” My friends laughed, rolling their eyes at my ignorance. “I don’t think she expected you to give up on a night out and just retire for the evening with Y/N, though.”
“Yeah, the look she sent her was almost murderous.” Anthony shivered, ever the dramatic. But the story was true, I knew it - and now that I knew it, it made me look back on a thousand little things I hadn’t paid much attention to before.
Like the time she asked me out in front of Y/N. I thought it was just a friendly coffee run, but now I could remember her disappointed face when I took my girlfriend’s hand and led her with us towards Starbucks.
Or the time she “accidentally” walked into my trailer while I was putting on the costume. I genuinely believed she had gotten lost - it was still her first month filming with us, but now I could see that she lingered way past what was appropriate, considering I was down to my boxers.
Even worse, she almost offered herself to me. And I didn’t fucking notice.
“Oh, fuck.” I knew I was messing with my hair, but hell, that’s what the hair stylists were there for. “What should I do? I don’t want Y/N to think I’ve been ignoring it because I get off on the fact that someone else wants me or something.”
Seb and Mackie exchanged a look, and I already knew whatever they were going to say was going to be interesting. “Well, she’s getting more and more obvious,” Seb commented, tipping his coffee towards Anthony, as if to signal him to tell me what it was that they were thinking.
“Yeah, so if you really want to make a statement… There’s one way you can do it that will not only make it perfectly clear to Jan that Y/N is your girlfriend, but it will probably score you big boyfriend brownie points.”
I rubbed my hands in anticipation, sitting up straighter on my chair.
“Let’s do it.”
In the next few weeks of filming, a cold war started - and it wasn’t even between me and Jan. Oh, no. My boyfriend seemed to have realized all that was happening, and was determined to make Jan’s life as difficult as she was trying to make mine.
But she didn’t fucking stop. So neither did he.
“Chris!” She’d excitedly call his name whenever he entered the room, and he would just ignore it, choosing to make a beeline in my direction so he could steal my breath away in a deep, loving kiss.
“Hello, lovely.” It was only after he kissed my nose that he actually entertained her for a while, not wanting to be impolite. “Hi, Jan.” The difference in tone was telling. Everyone noticed it - even her, who blinked a few times to adjust to it, almost like she’d been slapped.
But still, she didn’t stop trying. She’d sit by his side whenever possible - he’d get up and move closer to me when I arrived, if there wasn’t a place for me to sit by his other side. She’d touch his bicep and linger a little too much, he’d delicately hold her wrists and push them against her chest.
Once she tried leaning over him, close enough that everyone thought she was actually going in for a kiss. He could feel her breath against his face, and we all learned that because he actually pushed her away with a chuckle, commenting “Have you brushed your teeth today?”
I was mortified for her, but she just brushed it away. Honestly, it seemed to spur her on. It was like she got off on it or something. Maybe she was insisting on it so it wouldn’t be as humiliating in the end. If she ended up tiring him out, she would come out as the victor, right?
But after everything I witnessed between them, I couldn’t feel one ounce of jealousy or fear - not anymore. Not after the change I witnessed in Chris.
It’s not that I doubted him before or anything. It’s just that after everything he’d done to make it clear to our co-star that I was the only person he wanted in his life, it was very difficult for me to find the entire situation anything other than amusing. Maybe just a tad irritating when I considered how disrespectful she was of Chris’s feelings and our entire relationship.
But where Chris originally would accept her morning coffee with excitement and gratitude, he now only gave her a polite smile before forgetting it on the nearest surface.
And when she giggled at something absolutely ordinary that he said while twirling her hair, he blinked twice before saying, “I didn’t think you’d be this easy… to laugh.”
The pause was significant enough to show what he really thought of her, and I wasn’t the only one who had to choke down laughter at her expression.
At the same time, this trial that our relationship was going through meant a change in the way Chris treated me too. Where he usually left the PDA and affectionate gestures to the bedroom, he now felt comfortable to do them in front of everyone, making it clear to anyone who saw us that I was, in fact, his girl.
I can’t say that I hated it. I was so grateful for it that I almost felt like thanking Jeanine personally. “You smell so sweet, baby,” he’d whisper in my ear even when she couldn’t hear, hugging me from behind while rubbing his crotch on my ass. “Can’t wait to eat you out until you pass out.”
It was like he felt personally offended that anyone had ever considered he was single or unsatisfied in our relationship, so he now doubled his efforts as a boyfriend, giving me anything and everything I could ever need - especially emotionally.
“Sweetheart,” he called out to me one time, when I was texting Scarlett about our plans for the evening. I looked up to find him in his casual clothes, probably done with filming for the day, and he didn’t hesitate before throwing himself next to me on the sofa of our waiting area, full-on ignoring everyone else in the room.
“Are you excited to spend Thanksgiving back home with me?” He asked, playing with the fingers of my hand that wasn’t holding the phone up. “Mom can’t stop talking about you. You really made an impression last trip.”
My heart melted at the sweet words while I simultaneously bit my lip so I wouldn’t giggle at the way I could feel Jan’s stare burning a hole through me. “I’m very excited, honey,” I assured him. “I loved your family. I can’t wait to see your nephews and nieces again.”
The sweet smile on his lips was so loving. It made me feel like I was falling in love all over again - with this new, more vulnerable version of the man that I already loved. For the first time in our relationship, I actually believed he wanted something more with me, so I allowed myself to dream about a future together.
It made it even easier to look past the way Jan eyefucked him on every occasion. I didn’t even bat an eye at her inappropriate compliments anymore. When she approached the both of us, I already knew something funny was going to happen, so I just tried to hide my smile and settled down for a laugh.
“Your skin is so soft,” Jan commented, running her hand over my bicep that bulged a bit as I was standing with my arms crossed. I looked down at where she touched me with an eyebrow raised before meeting her gaze, disbelief written all over my face.
“That’s such a weird thing to say,” I noted, getting more and more fed up with her actions each day. Still, she didn’t stop. Even as she removed the hand from my arm, she laughed a bit awkwardly, trying to downplay my reprimand.
“Oh, I just feel so comfortable whenever I’m around you.” She ran her tongue over her dry lips, probably trying to seem enticing. “Doesn’t Y/N say stuff like that all the time?” Okay, there was just no way this bitch was this crazy.
“Yeah, because Y/N’s my girlfriend,” I reminded her, uncrossing my arms to wrap one of them on my girl’s shoulders. “She can say my dick is hard and I wouldn’t bat an eye. It’s not like she doesn’t have authority in the matter, anyway,” I joked, looking down at Y/N with a small smile before kissing her lips quickly, allowing her to hide her face against my chest. I knew she was always very embarrassed about these showdowns between Jan and I, even if she wasn’t the one who should feel that way at all. “You and I, Jan…” I continued, wanting to make this as clear as it could possibly be. “… We’re not even friends.”
I knew either one of two things would happen after that day. Either she would finally quit it (and that’s what I was hoping for) or things would escalate even further. Having gotten to know who I was dealing with the last few months, I prepared myself for the worst.
And sure enough, the worst finally came.
“Is that her again?” Y/N asked just when things were starting to get hot and heavy between us on our first night off after weeks of work. It was the third time in a row that my phone went off as we kissed, signaling the arrival of yet another message. Sighing, I let my head rest against her chest for a few seconds before reaching for my phone and checking it.
“Yep,” I confirmed it, annoyed. “Sure is.” I unlocked the phone almost automatically, prepared to delete the messages before even opening them but the messaging app had been the last one I’d used and it showed me exactly what she had sent me.
“Holy fuck,” I commented, wetting my lips as I took in the picture in front of me. “She’s sending me nudes now.” My girlfriend was oddly quiet, and when I looked up to meet her gaze, I found out why.
“You’re not jealous!” I noted, smiling at the fact that she was biting her lower lip to stop her own from growing. “What’s the matter with you?” I gasped, faking offense. “Aren’t you scared of losing me?”
She giggled underneath my fingertips as I tried to tickle her, but much to my surprise, she actually managed to answer by shaking her head. “Not anymore,” she clarified when I pulled back to let her breathe. “You’ve… You’ve been so great with this whole situation, I feel like you’ve enveloped me in a cocoon of love and trust. There’s nothing - absolutely nothing she can do that could affect me anymore.”
Warmth filled my chest, making me feel grateful that I had decided to undertake this challenge after I learned about Jan’s intentions. It was so great to know that my efforts hadn’t been in vain, and I made sure to let her know by leaning down and taking her lips with mine.
“Let’s mess with her some more,” I whispered when we parted, picking up the phone again to facetime Jan as Y/N watched with furrowed eyebrows.
I adjusted it on the nightstand so it’d keep recording us when I slowly kissed down her already naked body, eyes connected with hers as I buried my face between her legs.
“Oh, Chris…” She moaned when she understood what was happening, right when I heard the phone stop ringing as Jan accepted the call.
“That’s not how you address me, pretty girl.” I slapped her breast to catch her attention, grinning at the moan she let out at the harsh action. She really was perfect for me. “What do you call me when I’m between your thighs?”
“Daddy.” I hummed, finally giving in and licking her from hole to clit. Her thighs trembled under my hands as I kept her spread out for me, taking in every single one of her little sounds of pleasure as I devoured her sweet, sweet cunt.
“Do you want daddy to fill this pussy, baby?” I taunted, knowing Jan was hearing every single one of my words. “Stretch you out real good?” She wasn’t even able to speak anymore, only nod. “Yeah, I know, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel real good.”
From the corner of my eyes, I could see the woman still hadn’t hung up, which I hadn’t been anticipating. But the second that I pushed into my girlfriend’s pussy, I couldn’t think of anyone else anymore.
Let her watch. See if I care.
I fucked my girl with the same passion I’d been fucking her for the last year and a half - maybe even more. Because now there was so much more to love, so much more I knew about her. I’d learned everything I could in that time - her heart, her soul, her fears and dreams. And I still wanted to know more.
I wanted to make her mine for the rest of my life. But this was a subject for another lovemaking session, one without any kind of audience, hopefully. So I caught her mouth with mine, desperate to kiss her with all I had as I fucked her more roughly, getting off to the sound of our hips meeting.
“Oh, don’t stop, Chris!” She panted when we parted in need to catch our breaths. I didn’t even mind the fact that she had called me by my name, I was too in the moment to care. “Please, don’t stop.”
“I’m never gonna stop fucking you, pretty girl.” Burying my thumb in her mouth, I made sure she covered it in her spit before I used it to roll tight little circles over her clit. “Cum for me, c’mon.”
She came with a scream right as I approached my own release, prompting me to cover her lips with mine once more so I could have the taste of her on my tongue as I came.
“Good girl,” I whispered once I pulled out of her, for the first time in a while remembering about the phone and looking over to see that Jan was still very much in the call. When I reached for the phone to turn it off, though, she had already done so, and I found out why when a message popped up seconds later.
“All you did was make me want you even more…” A video followed, and I didn’t have to click play to know that it was her playing with herself.
The ping alerted the arrival of another message. “I came a dozen times watching you fuck her, daddy… but I bet I taste even sweeter.”
Snickering, I rolled my eyes and deleted the messages before I turned off my phone and threw myself on the bed, pulling the woman I loved to rest against my chest.
I don’t know how anyone thought they could ever compare.
Of course, after those messages, I didn’t really allow myself to believe she’d gotten over this ridiculous and frankly pathetic crush on me. And yet, the sight of her in what had to be the skimpiest dress known to mankind almost made me laugh in her face when she approached to greet me and pushed her breasts up like I had any interest in seeing what she considered to be her assets.
I barely even gave her the time of day, but a man’s gotta pee and so my annoying habit of forgetting to lock the door behind me finally caught up with me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snarled, eyebrows furrowed as I abandoned the towel I’d been using to dry my hands. She looked as sultry as someone who I wasn’t attracted to could possibly look, lips arranged in a pout when she approached me with danger written all over her eyes.
“I think we have a few things to discuss…” She started, and although I made sure to stand my ground, something inside of me desperately wanted to take a step back for every step she took in my direction. “I’ve been trying to get you alone for a while now.”
Scoffing, I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Yeah, you can say that.” But she didn’t seem resentful or embarrassed as she dropped to her knees in front of me, staring up at me with wide eyes, as innocent as she could fake to be.
I didn’t think she was physically capable of being embarrassed, anyway.
“Let me suck your dick,” she just blurted out, already reaching for my jeans, but I slapped her hand away. “Oh, come on! She doesn’t have to know” She rolled her eyes, having the nerve to look annoyed. “It’s not like your little girlfriend can treat you like I can, anyway…”
This time, the laugh did escape me.
“You really don’t give up, huh?” I noted, almost impressed as I stared down at her kneeling figure. Unfortunately, she noticed the attention, preening under the different tone my voice assumed.
“I want you too fucking badly.” She licked her lips, eyes focused on my crotch. “It’s so much more pleasurable when I can wear a man down… Make his girlfriend think he’s truly the one, only to catch him balls deep inside of me.”
“I swear, the sex is so much better when it feels wrong,” she whispered lustfully, hands slipping under the straps of her dress to pull them down.
“For fuck’s sakes,” I whispered back, unbelieving of what I was hearing. “Who hurt you?” That had her facade dropping for a second, before she was able to shake it off, grinning wolfishly to me again.
“Doesn’t matter,” she attempted to brush it off, the front of her dress slipping just enough to get her bare breasts out. She didn’t seem to mind, as she probably thought this would be enough to make me want her. “Now I get off on making other women hurt too.”
I could have puked all over her expectant face. I really could. But instead, I took pleasure in leaning over her, watching hope sparkle in her eyes when she thought I would kiss her just so I could kill it by saying, “I would rather cut off my dick then let it get anywhere near you.”
Her smile fell and I kept our heavy eye contact when a knock resonated through the tiny bathroom. “Come in, baby.” I didn’t have to check it, I knew who it was.
From the corner of my eyes, I saw her slowly open the door to take in the image in front of her, and it was only when she was completely visible that I took my gaze off of Jen to look at the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
“Excuse me.” But I was already walking over her, effectively trapping her inside the bathroom just as she had done to me when I cradled my girlfriend’s face with one hand to connect our mouths and with the other I slammed the door behind her. “I’m gonna fuck you now, baby.”
She didn’t even oppose me, allowing me to kiss her heavily before I sucked on her bottom lip the way she liked me to. “I want her to watch so maybe she’ll understand why you’re the only one I want,” I whispered between kisses down her neck, but I knew Jan could hear.
It was a tiny, cramped bathroom. She’d hear, see and smell everything we’d be doing inside of it.
“You’re the only one who can take care of me, huh?” Bunching up her dress around her stomach, I penetrated her from behind, keeping her arms behind her back so her breasts would bounce right before Jan’s eyes.
I even pulled down the front of her dress, much like the other woman had done before, just so I could be sure it wouldn’t be missed.
“Chris, fuck,” my girlfriend whispered, and I could see her blissful image perfectly if I closed my eyes. The way she was biting on her lower lip to keep her moans in, the way she was frowning…
“Chris, I need you.” It never took much to get her to cum for me, and I guess the high of the situation took over her too quickly. I could feel her cunt clenching around me, making me curse. I wanted to last a bit more, enjoy the overwhelming feeling of being inside of her like I always did.
“Yeah?” I entertained, eyes focused on her, taking in the curve of her shoulder, the weight of her breasts on my hand. “You want me to fill you up?” I teased, groaning at the way her pussy clenched at the offer. “Make every fangirl hate you because it’s you who’s carrying my child, and not them?”
Her eager nods had my heart skipping beats inside my chest, the utter joy she gave me almost too much to handle.
“Good girl…” He whispered, and that was my undoing. Eyes focused on Jan and her quivering bottom lip, I came with a loud cry, not bothered in the slightest about the party that was going on outside of this bathroom.
Chris, however, still seemed adamant on making this last as much as he could. I figured the punishment aspect of this particular session of lovemaking was enough to make him more determined than usual, and when he pulled me back to comment against the shell of my ear, “Sweetheart, I want to be with you forever,” I knew there was a big chance I wouldn’t leave this bathroom on my own two legs.
I understood how confident he was in our love now. No one could give me pleasure like the one he gave me, so it wasn’t hard for me to believe that he felt the same. Jan could check him out all she wanted. I was the one being split open by his cock, the one he wanted to impregnate.
“I want to leave,” her voice suddenly cut through the sexual tension in the room, catching our attention. Even though my eyes had been on her from the beginning since she was standing right in front of me, I hadn’t actually processed what she looked like, and it was only after her wavering statement that I took notice of the look in her eyes that made it seem like she was dying inside.
I almost felt bad for her. Almost. But my boyfriend’s grip on my flesh reminded me I wasn’t the only one hurt by her lack of decency and respect, so I knew I would abide by his order, whatever pain it might bring her.
“Shut up,” he ordered, voice so firm it had me and her flinching. She didn’t say another word as he pushed aside my hair to kiss my nape, but I knew his eyes were settled on her.
“She thought that she could make me cheat on you, pretty girl.” Obviously, I knew that. And yet I thought hearing him say it in such a factual statement would spark some sort of anxiety - I didn’t know what had happened between them before I got into this bathroom, after all - but that wasn’t the case.
Now, the mere thought of her believing she could get Chris to cheat on me made me laugh, so confident in my man’s desire and faithfulness to me that the very idea of her believing for a second that she could pose some sort of threat to our relationship felt too ridiculous to entertain.
“Tell her, baby,” I asked, slowly circling her nipple with my finger, nibbling on her ear. “Tell her everything you’ve been keeping in.” I knew she had a lot to say, a lot she didn’t feel comfortable voicing even to me, but this was her chance to get it all out.
I wanted to give her the cathartic experience that she deserved after enduring so much idiocy from the woman in front of us. So at her lack of response, I bit her shoulder, wanting to incite something out of her.
“Tell her no other pussy could be better,” I offered while my fingers slid down her body to circle her clit. “Tell her I’m yours and only yours. And that I’d never do anything to lose you.”
A loud moan escaped her, and that’s how I knew I’d managed to break through her defenses. Choruses of “Mine” and “You’ll never have him, he’ll never want you,” left her lips without her even realizing it, and I didn’t mind that it wasn’t a conscious effort from her, because I knew it was helping her heal all the same.
“I want to leave.” That annoying, whiny voice cut through our moment once again and I grinded my teeth, uncaring that she appeared to be crying behind her hands.
“Thought I told you to shut up.” Her glossy eyes confirmed my suspicions, and still I found myself not bothered by the knowledge of her possible mental pain. “This is your punishment for being such a crappy person, Jan.”
I almost spit out her name, hating the taste of it on my tongue. “So you’ll have to watch the type of love you’ll never have - the desire no one will ever feel for you.”
Tipping my girl’s head back, I kissed her lips, swallowing her moans as she came and milked my own orgasm. The rush of coming deep inside her pussy was amazing, and I hated that I couldn’t relish in it the way I wanted to because of this entire situation.
I’d have more than enough time later, though. For now, all that mattered was to get rid of this woman for the rest of my life.
“Go on, then.” I finally relented, stepping aside to clear her path to the door, keeping my girlfriend glued to me. “I hope this haunts your mind every time you try to fuck with a taken man.”
677 notes · View notes
girl code. pt.ii
a/n: i swear it’s the real thing this time because there’s no reason for me to prank anyone today 🤧
summary: you reunite with your best friend when you return from college. upon your arrival, her mother makes it very obvious that she wanted to finish what you had started the last time you were home.
warnings (18+ only): smut, legal age gap (r’s is in their early 20s and nat’s in her mid-late 40s), strong sexual nature, semi public sex, innocence kink (?), mommy kink, praise kink, vaginal fingering, cum filled strap-on
words: 2.2k | marvel masterlist. | navigation post.
you do not have permission to translate/repost my works anywhere! likes, comments, and reblogs are always welcome & appreciated <3
one. » two.
You’d be returning home tomorrow evening after your week-long stay at the Romanoff residence. Time had flown by, and you swear it was just yesterday when you were getting fucked by your friend’s mother in her kitchen.
“You sure you don’t want to go to the party with me?” Aria asked, snapping you out of your trance. “I can stay behind to take care of you if you want.”
“No.” you and Natasha said in unison. Her daughter looked between the both of you suspiciously. “I don’t want to ruin your night because I’m sick. You go have fun and we can catch up tomorrow.”
“And I can take care of your friend just fine on my own, kiddo. She’s in good hands.” You jumped when Natasha squeezed your leg.
“Alright.” Aria sighed. “Don’t wait up for me since I’ll be home late.” She furrowed her eyebrows when she caught sight of Natasha’s hand on your knee. The redhead pulled her hand away and rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m gonna go get ready. I’d ask you to help but you’re sick, right?” You flinched as stomped up the steps and slammed the door behind her.
“Don’t feel bad.” Natasha cooed, caressing your cheek. She smiled when you leaned into her touch. “She doesn't mind.”
“Do you think she knows?” you asked quietly.
“There’s absolutely no way she does,” Natasha said. squeezing your hand reassuringly. “And if she comes to find out- which won’t happen- I told you I’d take care of it.”
“Right, I’m freaking out over nothing.”
“I know how I can get your mind off of things.” You nodded when Natasha tugged at the front of your shorts. She undid the button and slid her hand underneath your panties. “You weren’t technically lying because you are burning up. Even if it’s not the way you meant.”
You could feel her hot breath against your ear. Tilting your head to the side, you allowed Natasha to attach her lips to your neck.
“You need to stop wearing clothes this short around me.” She whispered, rubbing at your clit. Your fingers tightened around the couch cushion underneath you. “Fuck, I love seeing you like this. A pretty little mess that just wants her pussy fucked by Mommy.”
One of Natasha’s fingers slipped inside your core with ease. You pulled her closer to you by the collar of her shirt.
“I’m never gonna be able to get enough of you, princess,” Natasha said in between heated kisses. “I’ve got no clue what you’re laced with, but I’m addicted.” Another digit made its way into your cunt while her thumb toyed with your clit. “I want you to cum for. You think you can do that for Mommy, baby?”
“Please make me cum, Mommy.” Her digits curled, deliciously rubbing against that sweet spot inside of you.
“Of course precious, I can't deny my best girl. Definitely not when she’s using her big girl words and telling Mommy what she wants from her.” Her free hand rubbed circles on the inside of your thigh and squeezed, causing your hips to jerk forward. “Stop holding back, sweetheart. I know you wanna cum, you’re so tight around my fingers.”
Your head fell on top of the back of the couch as a third finger entered your cunt. “I don’t know if I can handle it, Mommy.” Natasha pried your hand off of her wrist and resumed pumping her digits into your core.
“You can do this, honey. I just wanna make you feel good, that’s what I’m here for.” She quickly rubbed at your sensitive bundle of nerves. “You wanted to cum for me, come on you can do it. Fucking cum for me.” You felt yourself being pushed over the edge as she curled her fingers one more time. “That’s my good girl.” Natasha cooed, pecking your sweat-ridden forehead. Both of you jumped away from each other when you heard the door to Aria’s bedroom door open.
Fixing your clothes, you stood up to say bye to your friend but she was already out the door. “Everything is fine. She’s upset that she’s going alone, but she’ll feel better once she runs into one of her friends.”
You really hoped Natasha was right.
If someone told you that you would’ve been sitting curled underneath a mountain of blankets without the woman that you’d grown feelings for tonight, you wouldn’t have pretended to be sick as an excuse to not attend the party. Unfortunately, the redhead had left your side and retreated to her room following dinner. It disappointed you that she chose to sleep rather than stay with you on your last night at her house.
A noise from upstairs caught your attention and drew you away from the comfort of the couch. Everything seemed to be normal when you got up to the second floor, except the door leading into Natasha’s bedroom was cracked open. From your previous visits to her house, you had learned that her room was off-limits and the door was to always be closed. Something in your brain was telling you to turn around and mind your own business, but perhaps Nat needed help with something.
Pushing it open, you zeroed in on Natasha’s form where she laid on her bed. She was completely bare and had two fingers pumping into her cunt. Before you could apologize, Natasha's voice rang out through your ears.
“I can’t do it.” Natasha whimpered, grinding against her hand. “Fuck, you’ll help me out.” She said, looking up at you. “Won't you, baby?” Natasha smirked when you nodded. “Take your clothes off and come to Mommy.”
Natasha chuckled as you tripped over yourself while undressing. You rolled your eyes and went to remove your panties.
“Keep those on for now.” You straddled her lap, steadying yourself by holding onto the top of the headboard. “Don’t be shy, princess. Come closer, I wanna feel you.” She looped her finger around your necklace and pulled you down to lay on top of her. Natasha moaned when she felt your damp panties against her thigh. “You dirty little thing. Already so fucking wet for me and I haven’t even touched you.”
“I want you to make me cum, sweetie. Do you think you can do that?” Natasha swiped her thumb under your chin.
“I’ll try my best, Mommy.”
Natasha guided your hand towards her cunt and pressed down. “Go on, baby.” You cupped her mound and gently rubbed down. Your fingers traced her entrance, gathering her slick on your digits. “I’m so wet for you, darling. Come on, fuck me:”
You thrust one finger inside of her and slowly rocked your hips along her leg. She grabbed the back of your head and moved you so your head was hovering above her chest.
“Mommy needs you so bad, precious.” You pressed wet kisses along her breasts, occasionally flicking your tongue over her nipples. “Don’t tease me, little girl.” Natasha released a soft sigh as your lips wrapped around one of her hardened peaks.
You slid another finger into her heat and held your palm against her clit. Your fingers pumped into her cunt at a fast pace.
“Such a good girl, so good for me.” Her fingers gently rubbed your scalp as you rode her thigh. “Does that feel good, sweet thing? Do I make you feel as good as you make me feel?” You hummed around her breast and curled your digits.
Your name fell from Natasha’s plump lips as her cunt tightened around your fingers. You let her grind against your hand, helping her through her high. Natasha slumped against the bed while you rocked your hips faster.
“No cumming yet, baby.” Natashas hands wrapped around your hips, stopping you from continuing to grind your cunt along her thigh. “I know I said I hated depriving you earlier, but I wanna see you cum around my cock. Does that sound good?”
“Yes Mommy, that’s f-fine.” you whimpered as the green eyes beauty lifted you off of her leg. Natasha slipped out of bed and made her way into her closet. She came back after a few moments with an unfamiliar item in her hand.
“You didn’t think the one I fucked you with a few nights ago was the biggest one I had, right?” Natasha teased, pulling you towards the edge of the bed. She hooked her fingers around your panties and pulled them off, letting them fall to the ground. “This one’s special. It’ll let me fill you up.” She tilted your chin up, making you look up at her instead of the toy. “I’ll be gentle. You know how well Mommy takes care of your cute pussy.”
“Okay, Mommy.” The redhead leaned down, pulling you in for a slow kiss. You moaned into her mouth, feeling the toy rub against your clit.
“Honey, open up. Let me in, I know you can take it.” You spread your legs farther, allowing Natasha to slip the dildo into your entrance. “That’s it, precious. You’re taking Mommy’s cock so well.”
The toy slowly slid inside of you, giving you time to adjust to the feeling of being stretched out. “It’s fine, Mommy. You can keep go-” Your breath got lost in your throat when the older woman snapped her hips forward, quickly pushing in the last couple of inches.
“You can take it, honey. Don't worry baby, Mommy’s gotta you.” Natasha wrapped her arms around placed kisses all along your collarbone.
Your hands tugged at the roots of her hair and pulled her in for a fierce kiss. She grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the mattress, grinding her hips into yours.
“You were meant for taking my cock, huh? Barely fits and you still want me to fuck you.” Natasha carefully began thrusting in and out of your cunt.
“I always want you, Mommy.”
“Of course you do, my sweet girl’s always willing to get fucked by Mommy. Look at your messy little pussy, it’s so wet. And it’s all for me, right?” The sound of Natasha’s hips slapping against yours filled the room.
You hummed in response. “All for you Mommy, no one can ever make me feel as good as you do.”
Natasha hummed in acknowledgment and slid her hands under your legs, pushing them up slightly. “Gonna fill up this little pussy with my cum. Are you ready, precious?” Natasha’s fingers toyed with your swollen clit. “I think you are, and I want you to cum with me. Soak my fucking cock, honey.” You came undone as she released the fake cum inside of you. “You’re mine honey, this pussy belongs to me. If I find out you whore yourself out to anyone when you go back to school, I’ll fuck you in front of all your little classmates. Only I can touch you and make you feel this good, my sweet girl.”
“I’m all yours Mommy, you have nothing to worry about.” Your cunt clenched around nothing as Natasha pulled the toy out of you.
The cock filled you once again after you were flipped onto your hands and knees. “Good. I’m gonna fill you up over and over again, make you my little cumdump.”
“Where’s y/n?” Aria questioned, entering the kitchen. Her mother was kneeling on the counter trying to get something out of the highest shelf in the cabinet.
“Oh, she’s in the shower.” Natasha shrugged. She found what she was looking for and hopped off of the counter. “What do you want for breakfast? Or well, lunch because it’s almost noon.”
“I don’t really care.” Natasha hummed, scanning the shelves in the fridge. “I do have one question though.”
“When did you plan on telling me that you were sleeping with my best friend?” Natasha hit the back of her head on one of the shelves and groaned in pain.
“It’s not like that,” she replied, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer.
“Don’t lie to me, mom.” Aria snapped, crossing her arms. “I caught you in bed with her after I came back from the party but you were asleep so neither of you noticed.”
“I’m sorry.” Natasha approached her daughter and squeezed her shoulder.
“Just don’t hurt her feelings, okay?” Aria sighed. “I’m not trying to get sent to jail for fighting my mother.” Natasha chuckled and embraced her daughter. “And don’t fuck in the house when I’m around, okay? I don’t need to hear that.”
“That’s gross.” Aria scoffed, scrunching her face in disgust.
“Hey, it’s my house,” Natasha said, raising her hands in surrender. “And it’s about time you move and get a place of your own.”
“Don’t use this as an excuse to get rid of me.” Ariana rolled her eyes, throwing a rag at her mother which the redhead caught.
“What did I miss?” you asked, coming downstairs with your bags in hand.
“I finally found out that my mom’s been banging you every time I look away.”
“Don’t be vulgar.” Natasha scolded. She laughed at your bewildered look and gave you a brief peck. “Hope you’re not in any pain because of last night.”
“I’m right here!” Natasha sighed and backed away from you slightly. “Thank you, I don’t need to see you guys kissing.”
“Wait- you’re not mad?”
“I’m surprised, but I’m okay with it. As long as I don’t have to call you mommy or something. I’ll leave you to call my mother that.”
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I hope you get plenty of prompts that you enjoy. Thank you.
NMJ bonding with child Wangji. Maybe a few times NMJ beat little LWJ in a spar and the time he knew little Wangji would one day beat him. Mostly Pre Cloud Recesses arc?
Of Few Words - ao3
The first time Nie Mingjue met Lan Xichen’s little brother, he thought he would be just like Nie Huaisang, so he picked him up and threw him.
“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen gasped, clearly horrified. “What are you doing?”
Probably something forbidden by the rules, Nie Mingjue thought, and shrugged.
He wasn’t good with words, was too blunt and too direct, especially for the Lan sect, and so over the past couple of weeks or so that he’d been here he’d found it was easier not to speak at all. They’d make whatever assumptions they wanted about him, no matter what he did; it was easier to just let them do that and work with that than it was to futilely strive to get them to actually understand him.
“Even if Wangji has done something to upset you, you may only assign him to do copying,” Lan Xichen told him, and Nie Mingjue was briefly surprised that his new friend had assumed he was angry before he remembered that everyone here thought he was angry all the time, so it wasn’t actually that much of a surprise. “Please keep that in mind. Also, I don’t know if I’ve said, but he’s very reserved, so please don’t take offense if he just points things out...oh, I wish I wasn’t needed elsewhere this afternoon! I’d much rather show you around myself, but as it is, he’ll be showing you around this part of the Cloud Recesses in my place.”
Nie Mingjue grunted assent, and watched, a little desolately, as Lan Xichen disappeared down the still confusing twists and turns of the paths of the Cloud Recesses. It was all gardens here, carefully tended to maximize graceful tranquility, and he was sure he would have no chance of ever finding his way back on his own if left to it.
It wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest if he was. The other Lan disciples hadn’t really taken to him the way Lan Xichen had, much less a younger brother that the (rather reserved, by Nie Mingjue’s standards) Lan Xichen had described as reserved…
Unexpectedly, a small hand slipped into his own, and he looked down in surprise.
Lan Wangji looked up at him, his cheeks flushed a little red.
Nie Mingjue instinctively smiled at him, charmed by the reminder of Nie Huaisang, then remembered that too much exuberance seemed to only disturb the Lan sect and struggled to get his expression under control. He expected him to start leading him around the Cloud Recesses without another word – he had overheard Lan Qiren telling his father that Lan Wangji wasn’t much of a talker, very quiet, and to not expect much interaction with him – but to his surprise Lan Wangji did not move, looking at up at him thoughtfully, lips pursed as if he was considering saying something.
Nie Mingjue waited for his judgment.
“You weren’t angry,” Lan Wangji finally said. “When you threw me.”
Nie Mingjue blinked.
“No,” he admitted, breaking his own informal vow of silence. “I wasn’t. I thought you might enjoy it.”
Nie Huaisang loved being tossed around, whether up into the air or into bushes, headfirst shrieking into his bed or ass-first into a pool of water; he’d thought tossing little brothers around was what big brothers were there for. Sure, there was a small age gap – Lan Wangji was six, Nie Huaisang still not quite five – but he hadn’t thought it would make such a difference.
Lan Wangji hummed thoughtfully. He did not speak for another long while, but Nie Mingjue was starting to think that that was just him chewing over his thoughts before forming them into words.
At last, he spoke again: “I did.”
Nothing afterwards. Hesitantly, Nie Mingjue asked, “Would you like me to do it again?”
Lan Wangji nodded.
This time, Nie Mingjue was a little more cautious: he threw Lan Wangji up into the air and caught him, trying to demonstrate that he knew what he was doing, that he could be trusted, and by the third or fourth time Lan Wangji was smiling. It wasn’t quite on part with Nie Huaisang’s giggles and shrieks, but felt rewarding nevertheless.
Satisfied by his success, Nie Mingjue was about to put him down on the ground, but hesitated. “Do you want to ride on my shoulders?” he asked, and waited as Lan Wangji considered it.
“Another time,” Lan Wangji decided. “Not today.”
Nie Mingjue nodded and put him down. Lan Wangji took his hand once again and, this time, led him around the way he’d expected from the start, pointing out various places and naming them in a quiet murmur.
Lan Wangji really wasn’t much of a talker, a person of few words, but that was fine. So was Nie Mingjue.
It was a few days later that he came across Lan Wangji kneeling beside the training grounds and impulsively challenged him. He was getting bored of training alone: Lan Xichen was busy again, and the other Lan disciples had already made clear that they didn’t want to have anything to do with him, the interloper who’d pushed his way into their lessons by force.
It wasn’t actually like that at all – his father had sent Nie Mingjue to learn here for the season as a gesture of goodwill, wanting to support Lan Qiren’s lecture series and make it clear that other sects should follow suit, to encourage Lan Qiren’s goal of eventually creating a safe haven for all the Great Sect’s heirs to come together and learn and build friendships while still in their youth – but Nie Mingjue knew that there was no convincing any of his wary Lan sect peers of that. Even if there was, he certainly couldn’t do it, not with his clumsy tongue and scowling face and too-tall height that made everyone immediately assume he would resort to violence as his first and only argument.
So he trained alone and studied alone, or with Lan Xichen in the rare times when his friend was free, but it was boring, and anyway, he thought he’d gotten on pretty well with Lan Wangji the first time they’d met. It wouldn’t be a real spar, of course, not against a six-year-old, but doing the moves slow and mirroring a smaller opponent would force him to pay close attention to his own technique, which would pay off in the long run.
He explained this to Lan Wangji when the boy frowned up at him in what Nie Mingjue was starting to be able to identify as a silent question – he didn’t use many words himself, just spat out “Mirroring improves technique,” and saw that Lan Wangji understood the rest – and a moment later Lan Wangji nodded and rose to his feet, picking up one of the practice swords and taking a position opposite him on one of the fields.
Nie Mingjue started with a standard warm-up routine, unsure of Lan Wangji’s skills. Supposedly he was the opposite of Nie Huaisang in this respect, too, startlingly advanced for his age, but Lan Qiren had also said something about him pausing his sword training as a result of some incident, not specified; his father had nodded in response as if he’d understood, which was very unhelpful to the eavesdropping Nie Mingjue, who didn’t. Since he didn’t know the background of the incident or when Lan Wangji had picked up sword training again, and more to the point wasn’t inclined to ask since he knew that Lan Wangji wouldn’t enjoy explaining, he just started out with the basics and went up slowly from there.
It turned out his concerns were mostly unnecessary – Lan Wangji was a bit stiff at first, maybe because of the kneeling he’d been doing, but he clearly had the basics down flat, and they were able to progress to something a little more interesting quick enough, trading very slow swipes with saber and sword.
Nie Mingjue didn’t even notice that they had an audience until he heard Lan Xichen say his name in a strangled voice. He finished the follow-through of the move they were on, since stopping in the middle could be dangerous (not for them, not with training swords, but in the future, when it was real, and forming good habits now would help more later on), saluted Lan Wangji with his saber and was saluted in return, and then turned to look for his friend.
Lan Xichen was staring at them as if they’d turned into ghosts, and there was a whole crowd of Lan sect disciples standing around gawking at them instead of doing their own training.
Nie Mingjue hunched up his shoulders, assuming he’d somehow managed to do something wrong again, and automatically stepped in front of Lan Wangji, blocking the others’ views of him. “I challenged him,” he said bluntly, hoping to take the brunt of whatever punishment would need to be imposed here – generally speaking, he’d learned that the Lan sect’s penalties for being lured into misbehavior were less than the penalties for instigating it. “He didn’t seem otherwise occupied.”
“Wangji,” Lan Xichen said, or started to say, but Lan Wangji was already turning to put away his training sword. He then formally saluted his brother and trotted away from the training field entirely.
Lan Xichen watched him go without stopping him, then turned to Nie Mingjue. “Mingjue-xiong, how did you get him to fight you?”
Nie Mingjue blinked, confused. “I asked.”
“Yes, but – how?”
“I asked him to train with me,” Nie Mingjue said slowly, not sure if he was missing something. “I pointed out that mirroring improves technique. He probably did it as a favor to me…listen, do you need me to copy lines or something?”
“For whatever rule I just broke,” Nie Mingjue clarified, but Lan Xichen only looked more confused. “Was it because he was kneeling and I interrupted him?”
Everyone is staring at me again and I don’t know why, again. Just tell me what it is that I did, impose the punishment, and I won’t do it again, I promise – but you need to tell me what it was that I did wrong first.
“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen said, staring at him even more strangely now. “You didn’t break any rules at all.”
That was even weirder. “But –”
“Wangji was kneeling because that’s what he always does during training hours,” Lan Xichen said. “He doesn’t train the sword anymore.”
“He – doesn’t?” Nie Mingjue asked, now even more confused, and in his confusion forgot that he was in the Lan sect with their carefully thought-out sentences and myriad of prickly unwritten rules. “Why not? He’s so good at it! And he seemed to be having a good time, too…listen, I know your sect prizes musical cultivation, Xichen, and that it’s often one or the other, but there’s really no reason he can’t do both.”
He belatedly realized he was talking too much and shut his mouth, embarrassed. He shouldn’t have brought up that subject.
After all, Qingheng-jun had been a sword cultivator with little interest in music beyond battle-songs – still was, Nie Mingjue supposed, although he was in seclusion so much that it might as well be ‘had been’ – and Lan Qiren was an expert at musical cultivation, skilled in both xiao and guqin, but used his sword only to fly. They’d been trained that way, complementary to each other’s strengths – Qingheng-jun the attacking hand, Lan Qiren the supporting arm – which was a pretty decent plan right up until it had all rather been ruined when Qingheng-jun had for whatever reason retreated from the world.
“Of course,” Lan Xichen echoed, and luckily he didn’t seem to notice the implied criticism. “He should, of course, if he wants to…Mingjue-xiong, I’m sorry, I have to go again, I need to talk to my uncle at once. But you should feel free to challenge Wangji again – in fact, I would appreciate it if you did. Liu-xiong, can you tell Mingjue-xiong what Wangji’s training hours are?”
One of the other Lan disciples nodded, and Lan Xichen flashed them both a thankful smile before disappearing again, even though he’d promised that his uncle only needed him for half a day and that they’d be able to go down to visit Caiyi Town that afternoon.
As a result, despite Lan Xichen’s assurances, Nie Mingjue still had the distinct feeling that he’d done something wrong, but he really couldn’t see what. Best not to think too much about it, he supposed.
By the afternoon, Nie Mingjue had retreated to the library to avoid being stared at. He’d thought that the indirect sneers and silent rigid politeness that invited no familiarity was bad, but apparently it was actively worse when the Lan sect disciples treated him like he’d just turned into a performing monkey that had done a neat trick. They still wouldn’t condescend to talk to him, of course, but they felt no issue staring or talking to each other about him – even though Nie Mingjue was sure there was a rule about not talking behind people’s backs.
Maybe it didn’t count if you did it in front of their faces.
Nie Mingjue actually rather liked the library, despite the Lan sect’s general tendency to treat him like an illiterate ape that only knew how to swing a saber – even Lan Xichen had looked a little puzzled the first time he’d asked to spend the afternoon there, though of course he hadn’t said anything out loud beyond reminding Nie Mingjue that they didn’t have to go there and that it wasn’t necessary to sacrifice his own enjoyment for Lan Xichen’s.
It wasn’t his friend’s fault that he was brought up to prefer those were gentle and scholarly, Nie Mingjue reminded himself, even if it chafed a little every time that Lan Xichen automatically sided with someone who could express themselves better, someone cleverer with words than he; that trait was common to just about everyone at the Cloud Recesses, and at least Lan Xichen would eventually listen to him if he kept his temper under control and persisted in trying to make his point.
Nie Mingjue might wish that the Lan sect didn’t view losing one’s temper as an automatic forfeit of the argument – do not succumb to rage had been whispered in his vicinity more times than he could count, though rarely to his face – and he might think in his heart of hearts think that they were simply wrong in dismissing his viewpoint just because he felt too strongly about a matter to contain himself, but he was a guest here and he needed to respect their ways, conform himself to their customs, even if it upset and disturbed him to do so.
At least sometimes those ways and customs served him, including in the deliberate air of quiet contemplation in the Library Pavilion. There were separate rooms for private study, of course, but an emphasis was put on preserving the tranquility of the location, and it seemed that the Lan disciples at least knew enough shame to avoid coming to gawk at him from the door when he was there.
Deciding to entertain himself, Nie Mingjue picked out several books on military strategy utilizing musical cultivation – just because he was all but tone-deaf didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the power of the Lan sect’s core techniques – and settled down for a nice afternoon of being alone.
Until, of course, he wasn’t.
He was pretty absorbed in an analysis of altitude effects on range attacks for a while, deaf and blind to the outside world the way he usually was when he was reading, and then, perhaps alerted by some sound, he looked up to find that the sun had shifted position and also that Lan Wangji was sitting across from him with his own book primly laid out in front of him.
Nie Mingjue blinked and thought briefly about saying something. If it had been Nie Huaisang, he would have – some friendly jibe that Nie Huaisang would return in full measure, before they both settled down to enjoy each other’s company in communal silence – but this was Lan Wangji, who was a Lan, and probably wouldn’t appreciate it.
So he didn’t say anything, just looked back down at his book and continued reading.
After a little while, there was a tug at his sleeve.
Nie Mingjue looked up. Lan Wangji was pointing to one of the words in his book – “Frivolous,” he said, assuming that Lan Wangji was asking for assistance with the more complicated characters the way that Nie Huaisang would have, albeit with much less whining. “Means lacking purpose or value.”
Lan Wangji nodded, released his sleeve, and returned to his reading.
They carried on in this fashion for a while, quiet reading interspersed with occasional reading comprehension questions, and it was nice. Nie Mingjue could feel the stress of the day slowly sliding off his shoulders – more than just the day, maybe the whole week, the entire time he’d been here, or even before, when Nie Huaisang burst into tears at finding out his big brother was going to be leaving him behind. He would need to write to him again soon, Nie Mingjue thought to himself, and send presents; he’d been hoping to pick something up in Caiyi Town today, but then Lan Xichen had gotten busy…
It’d be nice if he could get him something from the Cloud Recesses itself, though.
“Wangji,” he said before he could stop himself. “What is a present you would get for someone who likes pretty things?”
Lan Wangji blinked up at him, then frowned. Nie Mingjue was pretty sure that it was a thinking frown, though, so he just waited, and sure enough Lan Wangji carefully closed his book and stood up.
“Flowers,” he said, and held out a hand as if to help Nie Mingjue up.
Nie Mingjue long ago learned that when a small child offers to help you, you accept regardless of whether or not they were actually capable of performing the action in question – though with Lan sect arm strength, who even knew – so he took Lan Wangji’s hand and scrambled up to his feet.
“Flowers?” he asked, a little dubiously. “I don’t know if they’d survive being sent by post.”
“Flower petals,” Lan Wangji clarified. “Pressed.”
Nie Mingjue blinked, but actually, no, that sounded perfect for Nie Huaisang. Especially if he got them pressed into a bookmark or something.
“My brother will love it,” he said enthusiastically. “Do you know where there are good flowers?” He knew himself well enough not to even try to make that sort of judgment call. “Can you show me?”
Lan Wangji frowned, and this one wasn’t his thinking frown – it seemed sad, almost.
“You don’t have to,” Nie Mingjue assured him, but Lan Wangji set his shoulders in a look of fierce six-year-old determination and he nodded as if he was going to go to war. “Really, if you don’t want to interrupt your reading –”
“The place is sad,” Lan Wangji said. “But it has the best flowers.”
Nie Mingjue frowned. He could tell from the way Lan Wangji’s little lips were firmed up in stubborn intent that there would be no stopping him, that he was determined to get Nie Mingjue the best flowers – truly, Lan Wangji was such a good boy, unlike that junior hellspawn and walking calamity named Nie Huaisang – but also that he thought it would hurt him to do so.
He didn’t want Lan Wangji to hurt.
“Do you want to ride on my shoulders this time?” Nie Mingjue asked, and Lan Wangji looked at him in surprise. He shrugged. “Sometimes having a different perspective on the same place makes it feel different.”
He knew he was butchering the explanation – he really wasn’t good with words – but he didn’t know how else to explain it.
He didn’t know how to explain that he used to spend days and days looking at the place where Nie Huaisang’s mother had gone in to give birth and never come back out, equally drawn and repulsed by it, right up until the day he climbed up the gate of the Unclean Realm on a dare and by coincidence happened to see it when he looked down from that great height, only to realize that the place he’d thought of as dark and depressing and even haunted was just a room like all the rooms right beside it: he couldn’t even tell it apart from the rest.
“…mn,” Lan Wangji said, sounding doubtful, but he hopped onto Nie Mingjue’s back when offered and scrambled up to sit on his shoulders, ducking his head to avoid the doorway to the Library Pavilion as they exited out the side door, and then he showed him the way to a nice looking cottage that seemed a little out of the way but which was surrounded by what were undoubtedly lovely purple gentians.
“Wow,” Nie Mingjue couldn’t help but say. “They’re very – purple.”
Lan Wangji poked him in the head.
“They are! Very purple. I’m sure Huaisang will love them to a ridiculous degree and that my father will write me angry letters about trying to sell him to the Jiang sect again –” There was a very small snort from above his head. “In my defense, he was really annoying when he was a colicky baby, and at the time I thought the Jiang sect were pirates.”
Another snort, this time less small. Somewhat disdainful.
“Listen, they’re ‘known for their watercraft’, right? It was a perfectly reasonable mistake to make…”
Lan Wangji didn’t giggle the way Nie Huaisang did when Nie Mingjue clowned around for him, but he was smiling by the time he edged onto a nearby tree branch to get a particular blossom that Nie Mingjue had set his heart on, declaring it the fattest of all the flowers and thereby a necessary acquisition, and in the end they collected a full basket of the purple flowers, more than enough for a dozen pressed bookmarks.
The smile made Nie Mingjue feel like he accomplished something.
It was almost enough, even, to let him brush off all the stares they got as they walked back together, side-by-side.
Nie Mingjue reported to Lan Qiren’s study with a great deal of trepidation.
It only got worse when he saw Lan Xichen sitting there as well, and when Lan Qiren instructed his nephew to serve them all tea. Nie Mingjue was abruptly seized by the fear that something terrible had happened: that he’d broken some unknown rule and needed to be punished severely, that he’d failed all his tests, that they’d decided he wasn’t actually a good fit for the Cloud Recesses after all, that his father had been summoned to take him back home early in disgrace –
“You’ve been spending some time with Wangji of late,” Lan Qiren said.
Nie Mingjue nodded.
“Yesterday, you presented the craftsman with a basket of purple gentians. Did Wangji show you where to find them?”
“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said cautiously. “He helped me pick them.”
Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen exchanged glances.
Nie Mingjue somehow felt even more nervous.
“Was I not supposed to take them?” he asked. “Wangji said they’re his mother’s favorites.”
Lan Xichen dropped his cup.
“Xichen,” Lan Qiren said sternly, and Lan Xichen apologized and quickly cleaned it up. Luckily the cup had not shattered. “Nie-gongzi, to confirm, Wangji told you that himself?”
Nie Mingjue nodded.
Lan Qiren stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Nie-gongzi…if I were to tell you that Wangji has not spoken to anyone in nearly six months, what would you say?”
Nie Mingjue blinked.
“He also hasn’t trained with the sword in that time,” Lan Xichen interjected.
Nie Mingjue opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no idea what to say.
“Our mother died,” Lan Xichen explained, his brow creased in misery and concern. “Wangji didn’t really understand…it took a long time before he understood that he couldn’t see her any more.”
“Oh,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Xichen.”
Now it was Lan Xichen’s turn to blink. “Sorry? For what?”
“For your loss? I mean, she was your mother, too, right?” It occurred to Nie Mingjue that she might not be, the way his mother and Nie Huaisang’s mother weren’t the same, but he was pretty sure the Lan sect only allowed for one marriage, and the age gap between Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji was smaller than the one between him and Nie Huaisang…
“Yes,” Lan Xichen said. “She – was. Thank you.”
Lan Qiren made a thoughtful sound.
“If you’re asking if I did something to convince Wangji to come with me and do all that,” Nie Mingjue said, having finally figured out why he was sitting here having tea and being uncomfortable, “I really didn’t. It may just be that enough time has passed for the wound to scab over.”
“Perhaps,” Lan Qiren said.
“I think he feels bad for me?” Nie Mingjue hazarded. “I’m not sure. I’m still learning how to understand him.”
“The fact that you’ve realized that there’s something there to understand puts you way ahead of most people,” Lan Xichen told him.
“Why would he feel bad for you?” Lan Qiren asked.
Because your sect is full of snobs that all hate me.
“Uh,” Nie Mingjue said. “I – have no idea.”
Lan Xichen frowned at him. “Mingjue-xiong, ‘do not tell lies’ is a rule.”
“So is ‘do not insult people’,” Nie Mingjue said sulkily, and refused to say another word no matter how many ways Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen asked. He’d already figured out that not talking was the best way to avoid getting into trouble – the Lan sect was much more insular than the Nie sect, with all sorts of restrictions about getting brought in, and he didn’t have any confidence that expressing grievances would result in anything other than more shunning.
Eventually, Lan Qiren dismissed him, frowning, and Lan Xichen escorted him back to his rooms.
“Is it because you don’t trust me?” he asked, and Nie Mingjue stared at him.
“What are you talking about?” he said. “Of course I trust you. You’re my friend.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me that there was something wrong?” Lan Xichen demanded. “And don’t say nothing’s wrong, that’s obviously a lie.”
“It’s because we’re friends,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. Most of the time, he forgot that there was an age gap between him and Lan Xichen – three and a half years, same as the gap between Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji – but sometimes it really hit home. “I don’t want to make trouble for you. This is just a place I’m staying for a little while, but you live here; after I go, we’ll still be friends, but you’ll still be stuck with whatever mess I make for you.”
Lan Xichen was scowling, his lower lip trembling a little, and Nie Mingjue cautiously reached out a hand to put on his shoulder, squeezing. He would prefer to give him a hug, but he didn’t know if it would be welcome – he’d already told Lan Xichen that he himself was always open for hugs, but he knew very well that Lan Xichen was uncomfortable with too much contact.
“It’s all right,” he said.
“No, it’s not,” Lan Xichen said. “Wangji noticed that you were unhappy, and I didn’t! What kind of friend am I?”
“You’re a good friend,” Nie Mingjue insisted. “You are. It’s not about you. I promise.”
They still hadn’t resolved it by the time Lan Xichen left him at his room. Nie Mingjue sighed, hoped that he hadn’t inadvertently ruined everything, and went to sleep.
The next morning, he woke up when the door to his room opened abruptly with a slam that seemed, in his sleep-fogged brain, to echo throughout the entire Cloud Recesses.
“…Xichen?” Nie Mingjue said, and rubbed his eyes disbelievingly. “Did you just slam a door?”
It wasn’t really a slam. It was a small shove, at best.
“Why didn’t you tell me people were being mean to you?” Lan Xichen demanded, and Nie Mingjue stared at him. “I would’ve made them stop! Really, I would have! I don’t care if they’re Lan sect and you’re not, they shouldn’t be – I shouldn’t be – making assumptions about you or pushing you out or – or – or anything!”
“Where did you get all of this from?” Nie Mingjue asked, utterly at sea. He was right, of course, about the problems Nie Mingjue had been having, but he certainly hadn’t known it last night before curfew and while, yes, it was only morning by the standards of guest disciples and not Lan sect members themselves – he got an extra shichen to sleep in while he adjusted to the earlier schedule, of which he generally tried to use only half – it still seemed a little implausible that Lan Xichen had managed to puzzle all of that out overnight.
“Wangji!” Lan Xichen said, and threw himself on the bed next to Nie Mingjue and gave him a hug, a good proper one like the ones he used to get all the time back in Qinghe and which he missed rather terribly. “He actually came and talked to us! With words! Well, a few words, anyway, but he hasn’t said anything to Shifu or me for six months up until now. He said you were unhappy because of the other Lan disciples persisted in thinking that you were stupid and angry when you’re neither.”
Nie Mingjue felt warm inside.
“Your brother’s smart,” he said gruffly.
“He is,” Lan Xichen said. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I also thought you were stupid and angry and nothing more than that. I know you’re not.”
“I didn’t think that,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was mostly not a lie. “We’re friends, aren’t we? A friend wouldn’t think that about another friend.”
“That’s right,” Lan Xichen said, nodding firmly. “And friends don’t let friends go around thinking they didn’t do anything when they did something big – I still don’t know what exactly you did, Mingjue-xiong, but you helped Wangji a lot, and I’m eternally grateful.”
“There’s no need for thanks between friends,” Nie Mingjue reminded him, the first rule of their friendship formed in the spaces between discussion conferences that neither of them had any choice but to attend, and Lan Xichen smiled.
“I know,” he said warmly, and Nie Mingjue felt warm in response. “But I’m going to abuse my privilege and ask you to keep spending time with him – with both of us, sometimes, but with him by yourself if you don’t mind – so I think you’re owed at least one ‘thanks’.”
“Oh, I see how it is,” Nie Mingjue said, grinning. “You just want a free babysitter, is that it?”
“It is not! Mingjue-xiong!”
Nie Mingjue started laughing. Lan Xichen smacked him – lightly by Lan standards, no doubt, but it was a good thing Nie Mingjue was as strong as he was.
“I don’t mind,” Nie Mingjue finally said. “I like your brother.”
Lan Xichen’s smile was as dazzling as the sun. “Good,” he said. “He likes you, too.”
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