#reader insert avengers fanfic

[tuiccim]

Pickup Game

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3509

Warnings: Flirt, Fluff, Smut, Oral (f rec)

Summary: An after party game of pickup lines leads to a confession and an even more fun night in bed.

A/N: Special thanks to my hype princess & beta reader @whisperlullaby.

The after party of just Avengers and close friends was in full swing. Drinks and laughter flowed as you enjoyed each other's company.

“Okay, okay. Your best pick up line! Let’s have ‘em!” Clint yells over the most recent spate of laughter. “Tony, whatcha got?”

Tony smirks before opening his arms wide and declaring, “I am Iron Man.” He grins as everyone heckles him, “What can I say? Works every time!”

“Really?” Pepper raises an eyebrow.

“Used to! Used to work,” Tony backpedals. “Rhodey, save me here, buddy!”

“Okay, okay,” Rhodey laughs as he glances at Natasha who is standing by him and tugs at his sleeve, “Feel my shirt. Know what it’s made of? Boyfriend material.”

"Nice," Natasha scoffs.

"Let's hear yours then!" Rhodey huffs.

"Ever had a White Russian?" Natasha asks, holding up her glass.

"No," Rhodey looks at her suspiciously.

"Want to?" She says seductively. 

Rhodey chuckles, "Smooth. Okay, Clint, what've you got?"

Clint bats his eyes at Sam, standing next to him and says, "Well, here I am. What are your other two wishes, big boy?"

Sam laughs while rolling his eyes, "So, what you guys are telling me is that you have no game?"

"Give us your best then, Rocket Man!"

"You know, dating is a numbers game. So, can I have yours?" Sam grins.

"Boooring!" Tony heckles. "Steve, what's your favorite?"

"I've never been good with pickup lines. That was more Bucky's territory," Steve tilts his head towards the dark-haired super soldier. 

"Thanks," Bucky says sarcastically,  "I'm a little out of practice with pickup lines."

"Aw, come on, Buck, give it a shot," you pipe in and then try to hide your embarrassment at having drawn attention to yourself. Even though you hoped he'd test out the line on you. Your attraction to the man was undeniable and you'd harbored a crush since you'd met him. You leaned back against the wall with your hands behind your back and raised your eyebrow in challenge to him. 

Bucky's face betrayed a moment of discomfiture before he straightened his shoulders and stepped over to you. He placed a hand on the wall above you, leaning in with a small smirk, "If I told you you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"

You could hear some chuckling and comments in the background but it faded as you stared up at Bucky. God, he was fine as hell and you were doing your best to control your erratic heartbeat.

"Sorry, doll, that wasn't very good, huh?"

You don't know where the gall came from but, before you realized what you were doing the words slipped out of your mouth. "Don't worry, Buck, I'm not big on being picked up. I prefer to be pinned down." Your eyebrow raised as you said the words and you smirked, bringing your glass to your lips for a sip. 

Bucky's jaw drops as the room erupts in laughter and cheers. Tony crows, "She wins!" 

Clint laughs heartily as he agrees, "Hands down!"

After a few moments, you reach up and close Bucky's mouth, “And to answer your questions, yes, I would,” you whisper with a wink as you walk away. 

A little while later, the party was winding down and you decided it was time to slip out. Your nerves were getting the better of you. Thoughts ran amuck as to what Bucky thought of you and whether the attraction you felt was reciprocated. He’d been in a conversation with some of the guys since the game ended and you hoped to catch a glimpse, some sign of mutual interest but now you were walking away with your tail between your legs. God, what must he think of you and that brazen comment. 

Hitting the button for the elevator, you berate yourself for thinking you ever stood a chance. Your head snapped up when a deep voice whispered, “You know, you have a beautiful body.”

Grinning, you turn and press yourself against Bucky, “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Bucky smirks at you. Without warning, he stoops and picks you up as if you weigh nothing. 

“Bucky!” You squeal as the elevator doors open. 

He carries you in, hitting the button for his floor with his elbow, “Don’t worry, doll. I know you aren’t big on being picked up but I’ll have you pinned down soon enough.”

You raise your eyebrow at him, “It was just a line, Buck.”

His confidence falters for a second, “Oh, uh-”

“Don’t worry, baby. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” you smirk.

“Oh, you’re naughty,” Bucky laughs.

“I prefer ‘playful’.”

“I like playful,” Bucky adjusts you in his arms so that your back is pressed to the elevator wall and your faces are at the same level. 

You use the opportunity to wrap your legs around him and look at him expectantly. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. 

You’re surprised by the request after the way he’d handled you. It warmed your heart that he would seek your consent and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, “Please.”

The kiss is intense. He presses into you as his lips move over yours. His tongue slips out seeking entry and you oblige him immediately. You separate only when the elevator dings your arrival. He lowers your legs gently and takes your hand. Leading you down the hallway, Bucky says awkwardly, “I, uh, was kind of surprised when you, um, said that tonight.” 

“What? The pickup line?” You tilt your head as you look at him. 

“No, the… thing you whispered afterwards.”

“Really, why?” You thought your feelings for him were fairly obvious. 

“I mean, I’m a mess and you’re so put together. I just,” he shrugs, “kinda thought you were out of my league, ya know.”

“No,” you laugh, “no, I don’t know. I have never thought of myself as put together.  Thanks for that but I’m kind of a mess, too. I think we all are in our own ways.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Bucky smiles as he opens his door and guides you in. 

You suddenly feel awkward as you walk inside the room. The passion displayed in the elevator had mellowed as you walked and talked together into a camaraderie. You were unsure how to get back to it. 

“Would you like a drink?” Bucky asks as he comes up behind you, his lips brushing your neck and his hands caress your hips. You jump a little at the unexpected contact. 

“I think I had enough earlier,” you breathe, heat pooling between your legs. 

“I haven’t had enough, I haven’t had nearly enough. I need another taste,” Bucky says as he turns you around to capture your mouth. You oblige him willingly, snaking your arms around his neck as you arch into him. 

Abandoning any reserve you would normally have, you reach for the buttons on his shirt. He reaches for the zipper of your dress but his hands still. You pull back to look at him curiously. 

“You’re sure?” He asks. 

You smile and pull the tails of his shirt from his pants while saying, “Barnes, if you don’t get me naked and pin me down, I will never forgive you.”

He pulls you against him forcefully, grinning as he pulls down your zipper, “We can’t have that.”

Clothes are discarded quickly as he backs you to the bed. Bucky slides his hands into your panties to grab your ass and you gasp when he picks you up. Laying you on the bed he pulls your panties off. You expect him to follow you down but instead his eyes take a slow path up your body. Propping yourself on your elbows, you resist the urge to cover yourself but tremble as he studies you. He smiles, grabs a discarded t-shirt, and rips the bottom half from it. Your eyebrow raises at the display. 

“And what do you plan to do with that, Sgt. Barnes?”

His smirk as he advances has butterflies dancing in your stomach. He grabs your arms, twists the shirt around your wrists, and hauls them above your head as he pins you to the bed. 

“Happy now?” Bucky rumbles as he kisses your neck. 

“Almost. I’d like these off,” you use your legs to pull at the underwear he still has on, “and an orgasm or two would be nice.” 

Holy shit, you don’t know where this confidence had come from. Maybe because Bucky wanted you. Maybe because of whatever drink that was that Natasha had handed you. Whatever it was, you were enjoying the results. 

“Only one or two?” Bucky teases as he nibbles along your clavicle. “I bet I can do better.”

“Is that so?” You gasp as his tongue plays over your nipple. 

“Mm-hm,” he murmurs before plucking at your other nipple with his lips. He lets go of your hands that are still bound above your head as he slides his tongue down your stomach. Your breathing picks up when he reaches your navel and proceeds to kiss his way down to your mound. Your eyes screw shut to take in every sensation. When he spreads your legs further apart, you feel the contrast of warm skin and cool metal on your thighs. Anticipation builds, making you lick your lips and you can’t help the whimper that slips out when you feel a gentle finger trace your slit. 

“Fuck,” Bucky whispers reverently before his tongue follows the same path as his fingers. His metal arm curls around your leg and he rests his hand on your abdomen, effectively holding you in place as he explores your folds. It was almost unbearable, the way his tongue slid around to touch everywhere but where you needed him most. 

“Bucky, please,” you whimper desperately. 

His chuckle rumbles against your core. His fingers replace his tongue, taking the same lazy path. “Poor baby, am I not giving you what you want?” His finger tip barely grazes your clit and you whine. “Are you feeling needy?” His finger circles your entrance and his tongue gives the softest lick to your clit. Your hips flex, desperate for more friction, making Bucky press his metal hand more firmly against you. “I like seeing you like this.” Another small lick to your clit. “Wet, under me, and so desperate.”

“Bucky, pleeeaase,” you can’t keep the whine out of your voice. You don’t think you’ve ever been quite so turned on and the teasing was making you a writhing mess. 

“Say please again and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

“Please!” the word rushes out of you. His fingers and tongue driving you mad. 

His tongue moves slowly, lapping back and forth over your clit while his finger still teases. It’s maddeningly delicious but not enough at the same time. He holds your hips hostage, not allowing you to move. You mewl with each motion of his tongue over you, your body on fire and screaming for just a little more until your mouth opens to plead, “More! Oh, god, I need more!”

Bucky lifts his head, a devilish smirk across his mouth, “Oh, precious, you didn’t say please. We’ll have to start all over again now.” His finger goes back to tracing the slow path over your cunt. 

“What?” You gape at him as he plays with you. 

“You didn’t say please, doll,” Bucky repeats, allowing his lips to brush over your thigh, far too far from where you wanted his lips. 

You felt like crying. You felt like screaming. You felt like ripping off your bindings, flipping him over, and riding his face until you came all over it. Unfortunately, you knew you’d never overpower him and, if you were really honest with yourself, this little game he was playing was hot as fuck. You’d never been treated like this and he had made you a gushing mess. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky. Please, please, I need more,” you whimper at him with doe eyes, hoping for a reprieve. 

“You need more, precious?” Bucky’s finger grazes lightly over your clit. 

“Oh, please!” Your hips try to buck against his hold but he merely chuckles as he holds you in place easily. His finger circles your clit slowly as his tongue takes a meandering path up your thigh.

“Please, baby, please!” You whine as he makes his way back to your apex and are rewarded when his tongue takes the place of his finger. His motions are still slow and deliberate while his finger brushes over your entrance again causing you to clench around nothing. Desperate for more, you start to say the one word you know will earn you some relief, “Plea- OOH!!!-” In the middle of your plea, his finger had entered you and he sucked on your clit suddenly. “Yes, fuck, please, please, please…,” the word became your only mantra as he fucked you with fingers and tongue. Your legs began to shake and then he curled his fingers into that perfect spot, making bright white flash before your eyes and a scream rend from your throat. You came hard, your muscles clenching. Your legs try to close but Bucky’s broad shoulders between them keep you open to him. He laps at you through the aftershocks.  

“Fuck, I could stay here for days,” Bucky groaned. His fingers curled slowly as his tongue made gentle licks.

You gasped and moaned, words and thoughts hard to come by in the haze. “Bucky,” you finally manage to whisper his name as if it was the sweetest endearment. 

“I know. I know, doll. Don’t worry, I’m not done yet,” his mouth nuzzled you as he said the words. Flicks of his tongue came closer together, “I need another one from you, precious. Gotta hear you make those sweet sounds again.” 

“Bucky, oh, fuck. Please, it’s so good,” you gasp the words out, nearly overstimulated and yet still desperate for his touch. 

“You know how hard I am hearing you say that?” Bucky groans against your clit, vibrations coursing through you. His tongue begins moving faster, making swift circles. 

“I… I- fuck. Please,” you stutter, unable to form sentences anymore. Bucky’s fingers curl more firmly into that spongy spot inside and your back tries to arch despite his arm holding you firmly in place. He was moving his tongue as if his sole purpose in life was to make you fly into a million pieces. You were a whimpering mess, unable to form words and so close to the edge again. When he growled against you again, your eyes flew open and you looked down your body at him. His cobalt eyes met yours and the intensity in his gaze was a hit straight to your core. Your muscles began to spasm as you watched him, so focused on your pleasure and aroused by your responses. Your scream is stifled by the overwhelming intensity of the orgasm that rips through you. Your hands flex around the bonds that hold them in place. 

As Bucky kisses his way back up your body, you manage to come back to yourself… mostly. You wanted to touch him, to hold him against you, to run your hands over his body. You attempt to untwist your hands from the scrap of t-shirt but the deceptively loose looking knot doesn’t budge. 

“Bucky, baby, please can you untie me?” You whisper. 

Bucky had paused at your breasts to show them some attention. They were deserving of the most reverent of worship in his mind. His tongue traced your nipple before he spoke, “Why? I’ve got you tied up, pinned down, and perfectly on display for me.”

“I want to touch you, please,” you gasp as he takes your nipple into his mouth to gently suckle. 

“Hmm,” he muses as he makes his way to your other breast, giving it the same loving attention. “If you’ll answer a question for me.”

“Anything,” you sigh, enjoying each motion of his mouth over you. You feel the rumble of his chuckle at your quick response.

“How long?” He asks. 

You slide your leg to brush against his cock, still covered by his boxer briefs before saying cheekily, “I didn’t bring a measuring tape with me but I’d say more than adequate.”

Bucky lets out a small moan at the contact and then chuckles, “Not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, baby?”

“How long did I waste not having you in my bed?” Bucky asks as he brings his face level to yours. 

“You mean, how long have I wanted you or are you asking how long I’ve liked you?”

“Both,” Bucky narrows his eyes but gives you a small smile. 

“If I’m really honest, I’ve always wanted you. You’re kinda hot, ya know?” You smile and bite your lip. 

“And the other?” Bucky asks, flexing his hips into you so that his hard cock nestles between your legs. 

You gasp and arch into him, “About five minutes after meeting you.”

“Seriously, when?” Bucky scoffs gently. 

“You were so sweet and a little self-conscious and I just adored you,” you nudged his nose with yours, encouraging his lips to find yours. He kissed you, long and lovingly, while he released your hands. You both seemed to settle into each other as your hands explored, finally free. The heat began to return, hips flexing into each other, craving the friction, but before things got too carried away, you cradled Bucky’s face in your hands and forced him to look at you. “How long?” You repeat his question. 

“Always,” he whispers passionately before taking your mouth again. 

It was all you needed. You reached for the band of his underwear, wanting nothing left to separate you. You managed to get the offending garment off of him and circle his cock with your hand. He takes a sharp intake of breath and then groans. Definitely more than adequate, you think to yourself. 

“Doll,” Bucky presses his forehead to yours, “I need to be inside you.”

“Oh, precious, you didn’t say please,” you tease him, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick. Your core aches to be filled but you can’t resist the chance to tease him just a bit as he’d done to you earlier. 

Bucky chuckles, “Knew I should have kept you tied up.”

You rub the head of his cock over your clit and whimper loudly in his ear, “I still haven’t heard it.” You pump him in your hand but still won’t let him slip into you despite his attempts to maneuver his hips. 

“Fuuuuck, please!” Buchy growls, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. 

You waste no time lining him up with your entrance. He presses in a few agonizingly slow inches before grabbing your hands and hauling them above your head. He stares into you as he growls out, “I should pin you down,” he sinks in a little more, “and tease you mercilessly.” His hips slide slowly forward until he’s fully seated inside of you. “But I don’t think either of us would survive it right now.” He slides out a couple of inches before snapping his hips forward, taking your breath away. He sets a slow but driving pace, staring into your eyes as he fucks you. His hands slide down to hold your face and he kisses you fiercely, his thrusts coming a little faster as he does. You wrap your arms around his chest, pulling him to you, sliding one down to grab onto his ass. You encourage every movement, the drag of his cock tipping you closer to the precipice. 

He buries his face in your neck, whispering praises and encouragement, “Shit, you’re squeezing me so tight, doll.”

“Bucky, fuck, I’m gonna-,” your breath catches as you fall over the edge. Your body sings as you come, trembling and moaning with each wave. 

“You’re so fucking pretty, doll. So fucking pretty,” Bucky grits out as you clench around him. It only takes a few more sloppy thrusts for him to lose himself inside you. His hips flex with each aftershock that hits him. 

Rolling to his side, Bucky pulls you against him. You nuzzle his chest as you both catch your breath. Despite the lethargy settling over both of you, Bucky's hands wander continuously over your skin and you bask in the attention. 

“You'll stay, won't you?” Bucky whispers.

“I don't know,” you say sleepily, “Do you hog the covers?”

Bucky chuckles, “I'm pretty good at sharing.”

“Mmm, then I'll stay,” you yawn and a little giggle escapes you.

“What?” Bucky smiles at your mirth-filled eyes. 

“That's the first time a cheesy pick up line ever worked on me,” you giggle again.

“I'll have to come up with some others. See if I get lucky again,” Bucky laughs as he kisses the top of your head.

“I'd say your chances are pretty good,” you smirk at him, “But maybe next time, I should be the one to pin you down.”

“Only if you say please, doll.”

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[anonymityisfunwriter]

I Can See You

"And I could see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission..."

Summary: You and Bucky don't see eye to eye, everyone knows that. They don't know that you and Bucky once knew each other under very different names. And they most certainly don't know that when he looks at you, he can still every stolen moment, his jacket on the floor, notes saying meet him at midnight, you up against the wall with him. No, they don't see that at all. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist | Anon's 1K Celebration

"I already told you, I'm only doing this because I owe you."

Six months - that was your promise.

Six months of your time and best efforts.

"And as a part of this favor, you promised to keep an open mind."

And an open mind, you begrudgingly recall. You promised you would keep an open mind about making this a more permanent placement.

Nick Fury was sure that you'd find a home here in the Avengers Compound.

You were fairly certain that you wouldn't - but you weren't going to tell him that.

You hated owing people. Nick Fury even more so. You could bide your time for six months to pay your debt to him. He didn't need to know you had no intention of becoming an Avenger. "Whatever you have to tell yourself, Nick."

"That doesn't sound like an open mind," he admonishes.

You smirk, enjoying the frantic hustle and bustle of the Avengers Compound with your duffle bag slung over your shoulder, "You know that I don't do well in teams. I don't play fair, Nick."

"Never heard that one before."

"But I bet you believe me, don't you?" you retort.

"Open mind."

You roll your eyes, waving him off, "Yeah, yeah, when exactly do I get to meet these self righteous assholes?"

"How does now sound?"

"Like my worst nightmare," you mutter under your breath.

If he heard you, he doesn't let it show. Nick flings the door to the conference room open, revealing two men standing beside each other poring over a case file.

It's not their impressive statures that catch your attention. In fact, the blonde one hardly catches your eye at all.

And if you weren't highly trained and disciplined, a gasp would've lodged itself in your throat at the sight of the brunette you never thought you'd see again.

"Ah, Nick told us we might be meeting you today." The sandy haired super soldier extends his hand out to you. It doesn't escape your attention that the brunette snaps the file shut the moment he sees you. "I'm Steve, Steve Rogers."

You return the gesture, still barely paying attention to the man. Your eyes flicker to Bucky. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was entirely unfazed by your sudden reappearance.

You're thankful you do know better. You know so much better. 

Bucky's eyes meet yours for a split second, they narrow slightly. It tells you everything that you need to know. You've caught him off guard.

Steve takes Bucky's silence as his cue to interject. He clears his throat, gesturing to his friend, "And this is Bucky Barnes. He's a, well, he's a man of few words."

Apparently, that hadn't changed since you knew him under an entirely different name.

"It's nice to meet you," you say to Steve. Your eyes flicker back to Bucky. His jaw ticks as a wide grin pulls at the corners of your mouth. He's worried that you'll give away his dirty little secret. Your eyes flash over to him, a mischievous gleam that Bucky doesn't miss, "The both of you."

Steve smiles at the change in your demeanor, "Nick filled me in about your little deal. Exactly how long is this trial run going to run?"

"Six months," you confidently reply, unabashedly staring at Bucky. "I'll be out of your hair in six months."

"But we're keeping an open mind, aren't we?" Nick urges you again.

You playfully roll your eyes, a beaming grin on your face, "Of course, Nick. You know, I don't know why, but suddenly, I get the sense that these next six months are going to be a hell of a lot of fun."

"That's an interesting take," Steve lilts.

"She's your problem now," Nick quips.

"Me? A problem?" you gasp in mock offense. You turn to Bucky, who's still yet to say a word. "Do I look like a problem, Bucky?"

Bucky's eyes narrow again. The muscle in his jaw ticks yet again. You swear you can almost hear the sound of his teeth grinding. It's almost enough to make you laugh.

The silence is palpable as Bucky glares at you. Steve nervously laughs, taking a step closer to you. He gestures to your duffle bag, "How about I show you were you can put your stuff down? We'll give you a chance to settle in and you'll meet the rest of the team first thing in the morning."

"Sounds like a plan, Captain."

"Just Steve is fine."

"See?" You call over your shoulder to Nick. "I'm already having so much fun."

You're not surprised that he came to find you minutes later. If you're right, he waited just long enough to make sure he wasn't being obvious. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to feel his lurking gaze far before you see him. "I can see you."

"Why did you lie?" Bucky furiously demands, standing in the doorway of your new bedroom.

You grin to yourself, still turned away from Bucky. "Nice to see you again, Soldat."

"Bucky," he firmly states, his hands curling into tight fists. "My name is Bucky."

"If I recall correctly, you liked when I called you Soldat." You turn on your heel, taking several steps toward Bucky. He knows he should stop you. He knows he should stay as far away from you as possible, as far away from your bedroom as possible. And yet, there's a side of him that wants nothing more than to feel you close to him all over again. He doesn't stop you. He doesn't push you away. Not even when you're close enough to touch him. "Or did it sound better when I whispered it in your ear?" You lean in, your voice dropping to a soft whisper in his ear, "My Soldat."

He does his very best to suppress the shudder that rolls through his entire body. It takes him a beat longer than it should to regain his senses and take a step away from you. He demands again, "Why did you lie?"

You chuckle, finally stepping away and allowing him his space, "Would you prefer I tell your team mates about your history of getting a little too close to your enemies?"

"What makes you think that they don't know?" Bucky challenges. 

You languidly shrug, "We'll call it a hunch."

"I'm not that person anymore." Bucky takes an angry step forward, desperate to convince you that he's a changed man. "I don't keep secrets anymore."

"So tell them," you offer. "What do I care?"

"You cared enough to lie," Bucky shoots back.

"If you want to let your team know that we used to fu-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence. I'm not that person anymore," he repeats himself. This time, he's not sure who he's trying to convince.

"Then we shouldn't have any problems, should we?" you rhetorically ask.

His eyes narrow, his gaze sharp and ready to kill, "What are you up to?"

"Me?" You gesture to yourself, resting your hand on your chest. "I'm not up to anything. Come on, Soldat, don't you trust me?"

"No, I don't because I know you, and you're always up to something," he bitterly accuses. "You've always got an angle."

"I assume you're talking about that day."

"You sold me out."

"You'll never see, will you?" You roll your eyes at him, waving him off, "I'm simply doing the favor that was asked of me."

"Six months?"

"Six months. And no one will ever have to know. Unless, of course, you can't help yourself."

He scoffs, "That won't be a problem."

"History has a tendency to repeat itself, Bucky," you state, putting an extra emphasis on his name.

"Not this time. Here's how this is going to go." He reaches out, snatching your wrist. His grip is tight enough to force you to pay attention, but not enough to actually hurt. "I'll stay away from you, and you're going to stay away from me. Got it? Let's just - let's keep this professional."

A grin spreads across your face. Your eyes flicker down to the burning grip on your wrist. You like that, even now, even after all these years, you still have an effect on the man you once called yours. "Don't worry, Bucky. I'm as reformed as you are."

That's exactly what worried him.

The months passed as quietly as Bucky could ever bring himself to hope.

Still, you never quite let it rest, never let him rest.

You always had a way of letting him know that you could see him. You could see how he was struggling to contain himself, struggling to suppress every flashback, struggling to simply keep his eyes off of you, struggling to contain all the feelings that he denied he felt for you.

He wondered if you knew that you kept him up all hours of the night. There were so many nights he spent sleep evaded, wondering what would happen if he just knocked on your door. Would you be up waiting for him? Would you smirk that smirk? The one he'd come to love and hate all at once. The one that was haunting him. The one he saw every time he close his eyes.

It wasn't just at night. It was every night. Every day. Every waking moment that you danced somewhere on the outskirts of his awareness. Every time you brushed past him in the hallway. You had to know you were driving him to the brink of madness. 

Sometimes, you barely acknowledged him. Sometimes, you gave him that infuriating smirk. Every single time, he saw it. Every single time, he saw you.

That part of his life was, for lack of a better word, scrambled. And still, he could never forget your touch. That part was crystal clear.

And he couldn't decide whether he loved or hated the fact that it might just be you doing that to him.

It ate at him.

It was a special gift you possessed, he had to admit. You could make him see whatever you wanted him to see, the power to ensnare his senses. The good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. You had the power to do it, to make him see whatever you wanted him to. He told himself that's what it was. It wasn't remembering a long lost love, it was you messing with his head all over again. 

He'd see flashes of the time you spent together once upon a time. His jacket on the floor. Up against the wall with you. Those old, crumpled notes telling him to meet you at midnight. He remembers every second of it. 

But most of all, you. He remembers every whispered sweet nothing. He remembers the anticipation he felt every time he saw you. And he remembers your touch. Your lips on his, trailing down his jawline. Your fingers running over the planes of his chest.

Deep down, he knew it wasn't your powers. It was you. There was no forgetting a touch like that. No forgetting a person like you.

It just another way you tormented him. So few ever escaped the Winter Soldier. Even fewer lived to tell the tale.

Not you. You not only lived to tell the tale, you taunted him with it. After that very first night, where he was, you were. He was never quite sure if it was glorious happenstance or your own doing.

Your very first encounter, you caught him totally off guard - something previously thought impossible. He didn't see you. He didn't hear you coming. He didn't feel you slip past him to reach your target before he ever could. All he remembered was hearing footsteps in the dark street. He knows for a fact you could've disappeared into the night without him ever knowing. He whirled around, searching for the culprit. He saw nothing, no one. 

It should've been quick, an easy kill. Instead, it was the first time he ever failed.

To this day, he swears that he heard your whispered laugh when he realized his target was gone, vanished into the night.

You showed yourself the second time. He was more prepared that time. Not ready for it, but more prepared. The first time his vision failed him, he sprayed the room with bullets.

"Uh, uh," you condescendingly tutted, allowing him to see you standing before him. "Can't get rid of me that easily, Soldat."

He saw you standing before him for a short moment, just enough to memorize your face. And then he lost all sight. You stroked his cheek, he remembers that. It was the first time you ever touched him. It was the most tender touch he'd felt in decades.

When he regained his senses, you were gone. Along with his target. 

The third time, he caught you - or you allowed him to catch you. He wasn't quite sure.

"Who are you?" he demanded, pinning you against the wall.

"Poor, Soldat," you cooed at him. It confused him. There was no fear in your voice. For some reason, he knew that if he released your arms from his iron grip, you wouldn't punch, scratch, or claw at him. You wouldn't fight back. You'd taunt him with your touch all over again. And for a reason that was more unknown to him, he really wanted you to. "They truly tell you nothing."

His sight was gone, but this time, he refused to let go. He gripped your wrists hard enough to leave bruises, pinning them over your head, "Let me see you."

"Say please." There it was that taunt that he knew would come. There was a lilt to your voice he'd never forget. In that moment he knew, he was powerless against you and your whims.

"Let me see you. Now."  He grips you even tighter. For a long moment, he still saw nothing. All he could feel was your body pinned against the wall, pinned against him. He softly exhales, his breath dusting over your lips, "Please."

He thought he memorized your face the first time you allowed him to see you, but he was wrong. There was so much he missed. He missed the slope of your nose. How soft and plush your lips looked. The mischievousness shining in your brilliant eyes.

He studied your face again. Over and over. Forcing himself to commit every detail to memory. Your smirk melted into the warmest smile he'd ever seen you wear.

You lean into him, as close as his grip will allow you to. So close that your lips linger a breath away from his. For a moment, he thinks you're going to kiss him. Instead, you speak softly, your breath skating across his lips, "I like you, Soldat. We're going to have fun."

His heart still stuttered. At the time, he didn't know what you meant.

He learned quickly after that.

It was the definition of a whirlwind romance - or as close to a romance as two assassins could possibly get. Long nights spent beside you. Jet setting across the globe for missions, just waiting with bated breath in the hopes that you'd be there. You never talked about what it meant, what you felt, all you had were those nights. Somewhere in those nights, he stopped being Soldat, and he started being your Soldat. 

So was it you? Were you the reason he could still see it?

Or was it him? Was it the fact that he could never really let those nights go?

He was a different person than the one you knew all those years ago. He was on the straight and narrow. He stayed out of trouble. You were the epitome of trouble. You sold him out the moment it was convenient for you. So why can't he let you go?

You caught him off guard when you showed up here. He was determined to make sure that didn't happen again. He just needed to be on his best behavior.

He knows you've been watching him - but he can see you, too.

You make a point to brush past him in the hallway on the way to the conference room. He thinks you can't see it, but you've been watching him closely.

You can see the waver of his Adam's apple, the way his eyes dart in your direction when you pass him, the way his jaw ticks shut as if he were doing his very best to contain himself.

Your days here on the Compound were dwindling down to your last few weeks. He still couldn't figure out why he couldn't let you go.

Even as he sits across the conference room table, you overwhelm each and every one of his senses. You pretend like you don't see him taking the seat directly across from you. Instead, you lean closer into Sam.

Sam grins at you. "So you can show me anything?"

"Anything," you promise, driving Bucky mad by using that torturous smirk on Sam. 

Bucky's not sure what Sam sees. It could be anything. A powder white beach on some far off coast. A meadow filled with fragrant, vibrant flowers dancing in the daylight. You could make him feel like he was plummeting to his death. You could make him feel loved for the first time in his life. You could let him know a betrayal like no other. 

He shakes away the runaway train of thought, focusing on the far off look in Sam's eye and the look of wonderment painting his face, "Whoa..."

"Bucky," Sam calls, his voice filled with laughter as you use your gift like a party trick. "Come try this! She's like a human VR."

"As tempting as that is," Bucky sarcastically remarks, crossing his arms over his chest, "I'd like to get this meeting over with."

"Alright, team," Tony calls out, beginning their latest team meeting. "Fury added another assignment to our docket. Black tie, intercepting a black market intel deal. You get in, you get out. Should be easy enough."

"Whatever you say," Bucky mutters under his breath.

"Barnes," Tony smirks. "I'm so glad you agree. You're up."

"What? Why?" Bucky demands. 

Tony nonchalantly shrugs, "Because I said so."

"Asshole," Bucky grumbles.

Tony's eyes flicker over to you next. In that moment, Bucky freezes. There's no way Tony know about the two of you, but it certainly feels like Tony's doing this just to punish him. "And you can take the human VR with you."

"No," Bucky sharply refutes, gripping the table so tightly he's sure Tony will have to get a new one. "I go, I go alone."

"Sorry, Barnes, we'll need more than brawn to get us into that gala."

Six months. Almost six months passed and he'd done everything in his power to avoid this. To avoid being alone with you. To avoid working in close proximity to you and the aura of temptation and betrayal that shrouded you.

The number of favors he now owed to his teammates was proof of it. He had no interest in testing the limit of his will power. "Then, I'll take Wanda."

Tony crosses his arms, shaking his head and looking far too pleased at Bucky's discomfort, "Nope, she's needed on a different assignment."

You smirk, tongue running over your teeth like a predator watching their prey fall into their trap. "Careful, Bucky, I'm starting to get the sense that you don't want to work with me."

Bucky's eyes dart to you, grimacing at you, "Whatever."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun."

"Bucky," Steve starts, tightly gripping his shoulder as the room filters out. "What's the problem?"

Bucky glowers at you as you saunter out of the conference room. Of course, you're far too pleased with this outcome. You make a point to grin at him as rage rolls off of him. "I don't trust her."

"Why? She's never given us any reason not to."

"Because -" Bucky starts, faltering after only a word. He can't bring himself to say why. That was between you and him. A memory he buried long ago. "Forget about it."

But he remembers. All of it. He remembers the moment you betrayed him and broke his heart all too well. 

"My Soldat..."

He sighs in relief, he finally stops pacing the floor of your safe house. You asked to meet days ago and you had yet to show up. Weeks had passed without hearing from you. You'd never gone this long without making yourself known. Finally, here you were, back in his arms where you would always belong,"It's been too long. I was beginning to worry."

"Don't ever worry about me, my Soldat." Your words are sharper than he's ever heard from you, it shocks him. You caress his cheek, fingertips trailing down to his jawline, your words soften to a gentle whisper, "Don't ever worry about me."

He bends down and kisses the palm of your hand, "I will always worry. For you, I will worry for as long as I live."

You smile, resting your hand over his beating heart. That's why you were doing this. You made deals with people you hated, resigned yourself to a life always looking over your shoulder, and sealed your fate, all to keep his heart beating, all to give him the long, happy life he deserved.

"And for that, you'll always be my Soldat." You kiss him with everything you have left. Your last kiss. A goodbye kiss. Because if you loved something, you set it free. If they came back to you, they would always be yours. And now, you were setting him free. And he would never forgive you for this. He would never be yours again. "And that's why it had to end this way."

"What are you talking about?"

You back away from the window of your safe house, "I'm sorry."

"What?"

And that's when the SHIELD agents swarmed.

It was a moment hard to forget. Yet it was equally hard to remember, to remember why he didn't trust you, to remember why he could never allow himself to let his guard down, not when you were so good at taunting him. He was sure you were taunting. He knew it from the very moment you stepped into the armory in a red dress that nearly stopped his heart.

You make it a point to saunter past him, tossing a laugh over your shoulder, "Don't worry, Soldat. I'll be on my best behavior."

"I won't hold my breath." Flashes of old memories race through his head. This time, he's sure it's you. His eyes snap up to you with a glower, "You said you were going to be behave."

"I said I was going to be on my best behavior," you correct, making a show of picking out your knives for the night. "This is pretty much as good as it gets."

"That's what I was worried about," Bucky sighs to himself.

"Lighten up, Soldier. It's my last night, I'd like to have just a little fun."

"Last night?"

"That was the deal."

Bucky's eyes dart away from you as you lift your leg up. The fabric of your dress slides up as you strap a small dagger to your holster. He knows you're doing it on purpose to rile him up. That's not what worries him. What worries him is if you're not doing it intentionally. If you're not trying to get his attention and he's just so viscerally aware of you that he can't stop thinking about you. That's what worries him. He doesn't trust himself enough to be this drawn to you. He clears his throat of the knot forming, "So you're not staying?"

"Why? You gonna miss me?" you tease. He remains silent, his eyes unflinchingly forward. "Let's not kid ourselves, Bucky. You didn't want me to stay. Too risky - I might ruin your squeaky clean reputation."

He's absolutely certain that you're the only person that's ever referred to his reputation as squeaky clean. "You're really leaving?"

"It's okay, Soldat."

"I told you not to call me that," Bucky snaps. He's aware that his self control is slipping minute by minute. Every second in your presence is a test of his restraint.

"Do you still remember? Can you still see it in your mind? Or do you need me to show you?"

"Stop." He barks the second a flash of the memory starts playing in his head. He can see himself tossing his jacket on the floor in a frenzy. "That's enough."

You smirk that damned smirk at him again. His fist clenches tightly, the knuckles of his flesh hand white with strain. "You're thinking about us right now, aren't you?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to push the image out of his head, he frantically shakes his head, "Stop it."

"Do you want to know what I'm thinking about?"

"Not particularly," he rasps.

"Liar."

He clenches his jaw so tightly that he's worried he might break a tooth or two as he desperately tries to hold onto his last ounce of self control. He's fighting a losing battle. "I'm not a liar."

"So what would you do? If I touched you right now?" You rest your hand against his chest. "If I got just a little bit closer?"

He hopes you can't hear his heart stutter. "I - I wouldn't do anything."

"What if you knew they would never find out? If we were so quiet and we didn't make a sound?"

"It wouldn't change a thing."

"What if I told you I remember it all? Every night. Every mission. Every time you kissed me."

"I-" His voice falters. Now was his chance. This was it, whether he wanted you to stay or go. Would you stay if he admitted that he never stopped thinking about those stolen moments? Or would you betray him all over again and laugh in his face and smirk that damned smirk with pride at bringing him to his knees? He can't put his finger on it, but in this moment, he doesn't care. He'll take the chance. He swallows the knot in his throat, "I would tell you I remember all of it."

Your hand twitches against his chest. "What?"

"I remember every second. I'll never forget any of it. I could just never figure out: Was any of it real?"

"Can't you see, my Soldat?" Your hand skates past his collarbone, up his throat, coming to rest on his cheek. Your hand caresses him with a tenderness he thought he would never feel again. "It was always real. Every moment of it."

"Then why did you do it?" he softly exhales.

"I had my reasons."

He lunges forward, and in the blink of an eye, he's gripping your wrist and pinning it to the wall behind you, "Tell me."

You grin wildly. You've been here with him before. "Arrogant as ever, Soldat."

"If it was real, why did you do it?" he demands, flexing his grip.

You lick your lips, momentarily debating whether or not to give him the truth. It ate at you for years. From afar, you could live with the knowledge that he might always hate you for what you did. Watching the conflict warring in his eyes was an entirely different battle. You figure, of all the things you could give him, the truth would at least give him some sense of peace. "It wasn't safe."

He loosens his grip slightly, "I would've protected you."

"It wasn't safe for you."

His eyes flash open. "What?"

"You were my mission, Bucky," you finally confess. "There was never anything else - anyone else. It was you. Only you."

He lets go, the shock sending him staggering. Your hand skates down the wall, but he doesn't move back to allow you the space to move. "You were sent to kill me."

You tilt your head at him, "I clearly failed."

"That doesn't explain why you betrayed me."

"Someone found out about us."

He shakes his head, his eyes storming with anger, "No, we were careful."

"Someone knew. I got a nice gunshot in the back to prove it. They knew I wasn't going to complete my mission. They knew I was never going to kill you. I wasn't going to lead them right to you. I didn't know who was watching. I wasn't - I wasn't going to gamble your life until I was sure that they were all gone."

The realization dawns on Bucky almost immediately. Sure, you were one hell of an assassin. Sure, your powers were beyond belief and could take down even the most heinous villains. But not even you could singlehandedly take down the crime syndicate you used to work for. An organization almost as massive and pervasive as HYDRA was. That's why you put yourself in Nick Fury's debt. You did it for him. "That's why you owed Nick Fury. That's why you sold me out." 

"As twisted as it sounds, you were safer in SHIELD's custody. The moment I knew you were safe and in custody, I killed each and every one of them."

His voice is hoarse as he speaks, "You should've told me."

"I wasn't going to risk your life just so you wouldn't think badly of me."

"Then why did you come here?" he demands. "If you had no intention of telling me the truth, if you were going to pretend, why ask to come here?"

"I didn't ask to come here. I didn't know you were here. I stopped looking for you some time ago."

"Why?"

"I dug deep to finish what they started. And once I tore them down brick by brick, I needed to rebuild. I had nothing left. It took me a while to resurface."

"Oh." There's a tightness in Bucky's chest at your confession. He never looked for you. He though you betrayed him. Up until now, there was no reason to believe anything else. You rebuilt your life on your own. You had no one, nothing left. You were left all alone. He left you all alone. 

There's a strange look in Bucky's eye when you finally look up at him. There's a lightness you haven't scene in quite some time. "What?"

The corner of Bucky's mouth twitches up. You may not have known, but Nick Fury sure did. "Fury knew I was here. He knew where he was sending you. He knew about... us?"

"I assume he figured it out when I came to him, begging him to help me keep you safe."

A shaky exhale dances across your lips. Bucky closes the gap between the two of you, pressing you up against the wall with him. "It was real."

For the first time in a long time, you touch him. You rest your shaky hand against cheek, your fingers ghosting over his lips, "Finally, you see, it was real... my Soldat."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Bucky Barnes Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[mochie85]

Laced Intentions

One-Shots Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: You try to seduce your new lover with lingerie that he can't resist. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: 3.2K Warnings: SoftDom!Loki, jealous Loki, hand works, slight degradation, rough seggs, lots of thrusting, fluff, happy ending (as always). A/N: Thor, Steve, and Bucky make a brief appearance. This fic was inspired by a TikTok I saw by Delacruz Collections. Check out their store. Or their TikTok. GIF of the actual set after fic. Dividers: @firefly-graphics

You needed to hurry. Loki had texted you saying he would be home soon, and you had to finish getting all the little straps tightened and make sure that everything was secured. Tonight was going to be the night.

You and Loki had just started this relationship and have yet to do anything more than heavy petting and heated make-out sessions. You knew it was because he was cautious around you. He was scared that he didn’t know his own strength. He could get lost in the moment and unknowingly hurt you.

You told him that it was ok. You trusted him. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you purposely. Even so, you wouldn’t mind it being a little rough. Especially if he was the one commanding you and your body. But he wouldn’t relent.

You’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way his eyes devour every inch of your body. Licking his lips and rubbing his neck. You knew he ached for you. Just as much as you craved him.

He said so himself one night, as you straddled his lean frame and pushed him down on your bed. You had his hard dick in your hand, stroking him up and down, as you rubbed it against your needy clit. The pulsing veins on his hard cock kissing your wet lips, tantalizing your release. “…f-fuck…don’t stop, pet,” he panted. His eyes rolled back as his head sunk further into the pillow.  

“Baby…I need you inside me,” you whimpered as you continued to stroke him closer and closer to his release.

“Oh, gods! I want nothing more than to be inside you,” he said, his eyes closed from the exquisite torture you were giving him. He didn’t see you line yourself up over him. His leaking tip, red from need, eagerly crying to be inside you.

But Loki was quick. In an instant, he pinned you down on the bed before you could sink yourself onto his throbbing length. Both of your hands were suspended above your head in one of his strong grips. He continued to grind himself against you, making you cry out his name.

“Ah, ah, ah. Naughty little thing. I told you we can’t.”

“But you said-” he kissed you fiercely, making you forget the rest of your words as he expertly made you cum from his grinding alone.

You sighed at the memory.  Loki is such a passionate lover hiding underneath false notions of your fragility. You rolled your eyes at your many attempts to seduce him and convince him that you are not as fragile as he thinks you are. You can take whatever he wants to give you. And God did you wish he would give it all to you!

So when you first saw this lingerie masterpiece of sex and eroticism, you were left speechless. You clenched your thighs just imagining what Loki would do to you when he saw you in it. Green satin straps and ribbons were constructed and held together by gold hooks and clasps. The garter and cuffs were attached by a dainty gold chain, leading back to a central choker on your neck. Each strand was decorated with small baubles of crystal that sparkled under the light, connecting all the pieces to you. You only hoped that the links would survive his rough hands. It was rather pretty and you’d hate to see it broken.

You looked at yourself one last time in the mirror before you heard the latch of the front door. He was finally home! You put on your silk robe, leaving it untied so he can see a peek of what was underneath, and you walked out of your bedroom.

The clack of your heels echoed in the hallway, announcing your arrival. The first person you spotted was Loki. His eyes met yours and then traveled down your body in the most ravenous way possible. The beer he was about to put against his lips, forgotten. As were the words in his mouth. You stood at the threshold, surprised to see that Loki wasn’t alone. It was only now you registered the other voices and laughter you heard only seconds too late.

The room went quiet as you noted the other people in the kitchen. Steve, Bucky, and Thor, each with their own pizza box in front of them, had gone quiet. Watching you in shock. You were thankful you had put on your robe, at least, even though it was still open. Everyone could see what you were wearing underneath.

Oh fuck, you thought. Well, there’s no point hiding now. Smiling with fake bravado, you greeted Loki home. “Welcome home, handsome,” you said giving Loki a chaste kiss on his lips. “I didn’t know we were having company over. I’ll go change.” You smiled and turned to walk away.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Gentlemen,” you smiled and nodded.

“Bye Y/N.” The trio said in unison as you walked back into the bedroom to change.

Brief silence overtook the room as the men’s eyes darted between a stunned Loki and where you escaped to. “Listen, if you don’t go in there right now…” Steve pointed to your bedroom. “I will personally take Bucky’s arm off and beat you with it!” Steve threatened.

“Or, you know…I could go in there.” Bucky offered, earning a snarl from Loki’s lips.

“Leave! Now!” Loki ordered.

“Right. See ya tomorrow,” Steve said with a casual salute.

“Pfft! Knowing my brother, he will most likely take all night, and all day tomorrow too.” Thor laughed as he gathered his pizza box and a six-pack of beer.

Bucky just laughed, punching Loki in the shoulder. “Let’s go to Sam’s. That guy doesn’t have a sex life.” He said to the others.

Loki stood there, still trying to process what he saw, as each man clapped his shoulder in parting. The creak and latch of the front door closing brought Loki back to his present mind.

He stalked down the hallway, following the subtle hint of your perfume. He inhaled deeply, your scent driving him mad.

The first thing he saw when he opened the bedroom door was your robe, discarded on the bed. He followed your gentle humming into the closet where you stood looking through your sundresses. Loki quietly walked in, blocking your escape. He noted your skin, radiant and perfect, complimenting the shiny satin of the straps holding you together. Loki’s eyes followed the gold chain that dripped from your neck down to the garters and matching cuffs they hooked onto.

“That was quite a show parading into the room like that,” he said in your ear. His whispered breath tickled you, making you shiver.

“I didn’t know we would have company. Let me just pick a dress and I’ll join you shortly.”

“Will you continue to wear this underneath?” he teased, knowing full well that everyone had already left. His breath fanned the side of your face. His fingers ghosted over the ribbons, tracing them down your hips.

You craved his touch, patiently waiting for him to connect to your body. “Touch me, please” you prayed.

“Oh, and why should I give in to your requests, kitten? You’ve been awfully naughty.” His hands continued to eclipse your body. You could feel the heat from his palms traveling up and down, tracing the many straps and where they lead to. You closed your eyes at the sensation. The anticipation. Loki was a master at building you up.

“I…I didn’t know…this was only meant for you,” you whined.

“I think you did know,” Loki scoffed. “I think you wanted to make me jealous.” His voice got deeper. More dangerous. “So jealous that I would have to claim you. Is that what you want, darling? For me to claim you in front of the others? So desperate to have my cock inside you that you would parade yourself in this seductive little number so that I might take action. You should’ve seen the way Barnes was looking at you.”

“Loki, I-”

“Hands up.” He commanded and you obeyed quickly, holding on to the bar that hung all your clothes. Loki kicked your heels apart, spreading you open, and making you bend at the waist. He placed himself behind you.  His palm spanked you on your right side making you scream out and moan. It didn’t hurt. It never hurt with Loki.

“You were so brazen. Only I get to see you like this. Do you understand?” he charged as you heard the buckle of his belt loosen, the zipper of his pants being opened. He grabbed your hair gently and pulled you back to him.

“I was only trying to surprise you. I didn’t know they would be here!” you moaned as you fought hard not to bite your lip. His fingers finally caress the pulse point of your neck, trailing down to the valley of your breast. His hands got caught in the chains and you can hear the soft clink of them breaking in his grasp.

He cupped your sex, making you mewl to his touch. “This is mine, and mine alone!”

“Yours…” you sighed.

“Again!” he said dipping his agile fingers inside you.

“Yours…sir,” you said barely above a whisper. Loki closed his eyes, savoring your submission.

“Oh, you are sinful!” Loki said, his resolve breaking. “I try to be good. I try to protect you from me. But you seem hell-bent on breaking me don’t you, kitten?” His lips crashed into yours. He sucked on your lower lip as his fingers continued to work your clit.

You pushed back against him, feeling his hard erection against your back. “Please…Loki…sir.”

Loki grunted in defeat. He took a deep breath and looked straight into your eyes.  “If we do this, kitten, I can’t promise that I’ll be gentle. I’m scared I won’t be able to stop once I have you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can never hurt me, Loki.” You tried to shine your love through, showcasing how much trust you had for him.

He turned you to face him, capturing your lips in a strong but zealous kiss. He spoke in between teeth and tongue, your breath mingling with his, “If it gets too much, tell me.”

“It won’t be too much,” you tried to reassure him.

“You will tell me!” he growled, backing you out of the closet and into your bedroom.

“I’ll tell you. I promise,” you assured, looking deep into his ocean eyes.

“Good!” With that one word, he picked you up by your upper things and carried you towards the bed. You wrapped your legs around his waist as his fingers toyed with the garters gripping your thighs.

“This is beautiful, kitten,” he breathed. His cock struggling in between your pressed bodies. His teeth found purchase on the skin of your shoulder. “All wrapped up for me like a little present.” He threw you, almost carelessly, on the bed. You preened at how easily he was able to manhandle you. How effortlessly he was able to manipulate your body. You watched him take his shirt off, exposing the hard planes of his abs. The definition of his lean muscle guiding your eyes down to his exposed cock.

You felt the bed dip when he knelt in front of you. He pumped himself, once. Twice, before he teased your entrance with his stiff girth. “Loki, please. Don’t tease me.”

“Like the way you teased me with this?” he pinched the gusset of your thong and let it go, snapping the fabric on your overstimulated folds. It stung with painful pleasure as you cried out. He pushed the gusset to the side as he eased himself inside you. First, his massive tip, pulling it in and out. Teasing you relentlessly of what’s to come. Then, inch by inch, he sheathed himself inside you. Filling your walls.

Loki lost his sanity. To finally be inside you. Inside your warmth and your passion. To be surrounded by your scent and your moans, he couldn’t handle it and he was slowly going feral with each inch he fed your eager cunt. When he bottomed out, you cried as his pelvic bone rutted against your sensitive nub.

“You feel so good, pet. Better than I had ever imagined,” he said breathlessly as he started thrusting. His fingers curved around your supple thighs, bruising marks of purple and blue. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. Each gasp of air only fueled your desire for him even more. He felt so good.

So. Damn. Good.

With each stroke he would take his tip to your entrance, stretching you, and then push back inside. Loki filled you like no one has done before, and most likely never will.

“Awe, my poor darling-” thrust. “What’s the matter?” thrust. “Have I rendered you speechless?” thrust. “I thought this was what you wanted?” You nodded your head, whimpering like an untouched virgin.  He spread his thighs further apart on the bed, pushing your knees closer to your chest, to receive him deeper. He held your shoulders down, your body sinking into the silken mattress, keeping you immobile and unable to escape the onslaught of his hard cock.

“You’re going to be good for me, right kitten? You’re going to take all of me in.” He commanded, his voice barely above a whimper. Loki was going to lose it soon and he knew it. You felt so good around him. All it would take was a few more strong thrusts and he would scream out your name to the heavens.

With his new position over you, he started diving faster. More aggressive. He pushed himself further inside you. Down to his hilt, sheathing himself inside your heated folds. “Loki!” you yelled out. You grabbed hold of his arms, your nails digging into his skin leaving half-moon marks. You squeezed his cock tighter, and you were rewarded with the deepest, most beautiful, feral sound coming from his lips.

“Ah- fuck! That’s it pet, squeeze me. Gods, you feel so good. I might just have to leave myself inside you.   -heh- Would you like that, kitten?” thrust. “Want to be my cock warmer?” thrust. “Keep me cozy all night?” thrust.

You simply nodded your head. You knew Loki asked you a question, but you couldn’t make sense of anything right now besides the feel of his hard length stretching you open, over and over again.

“I asked you a question, darling,” he said grabbing your chin and squeezing your lips to pout. “I made you into a little cock-slut haven’t I?” thrust. “Can’t seem to think at all can you?” thrust.

“…Loki…” you called out with each slam of his hips.

“That’s all right. As long as it’s my name you’re calling out. My name that you’re begging for.” Loki looked down at you. Your skin was aglow from the beads of sweat and pleasure. Your hair was a crown above you tangled in a mess. And your lips had captured one of his fingers still holding onto your chin, sucking it down to the webbing of his hand.

With a pop, he took his finger out of your mouth and drew it down your neck, leaving a cold trail on your heated skin. “I’ll have use of those talents later, my dear.” Loki laid his weight on top of you, caging your head in between his arms. His sweet lips sucked hard on your salted skin leaving you crying out for more. Your hands were left clawing his back as he grunted and moaned into your ear.

“I…I…can’t…Loki…youfeel…m’soclose…” you were incoherent. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t talk. The only thing on your mind was his name. “…Loki…”

“Cum for me, kitten. Cum with me,” he growled in your ear. Your whole body tightened up. You dug your nails deep into his back and screamed your release as he slammed himself down on you hard. He grunted his pleasure in your ear, releasing a savage growl that shook your body beneath him. The euphoric wave wouldn’t stop. Loki remained still, but you could feel him throbbing inside you, coating your walls, sending you spiraling into delirious bliss.

He remained on top of you, unable and unwilling to move away from your exquisite sex. The first thing you felt after coming down from your high was Loki’s soft lips on your neck. You turned and captured them with your own, pulling his weight further down onto you.

“Are you all right, darling.” He whispered tentatively. “Did I hurt you at all?”

“Wh-what do you mean? I feel so good, baby. You feel so good!” you said smiling.

“Was I too rough? I must’ve been. I can see my marks all over your neck.” Loki lifted himself off you and he found your lingerie shredded and clawed to pieces around your sheets. “Oh, darling. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I was worried this would happen. I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Loki started rambling.

“Hey, hey, hey.” You tried to quiet him down. “Loki, look at me! I’m not hurt. I feel wonderful.” You held his worried face in your hands and soothed his hair out of place. “Did you enjoy it?” you asked, and he nodded his head. He laid next to you, spooning you.

“Every second. Every thrust,” he said, burying his nose in your hair. “I just want to stay wrapped in your warmth forever. I don’t know why we waited so long.” You laughed at his admission. You lay there in his embrace, replaying the sinful moment in your head. Smiles on both your faces as you stole kisses from each other.

Until you remembered something. “Come on. The guys are probably sick of waiting for us,” you said trying to get out of bed.

“They left a while ago,” he finally confessed. Loki aggressively pulled you back onto the bed and into his arms. “I told them to leave as soon as you walked back in here to change,” he declared, straddling over you, pinning you back down on the bed.

“I’m afraid you’ve unleashed something in me, dear,” he said as he took one of your discarded ribbons and tied both your hands up with it. “Now, I did say that I was going to see to that mouth of yours, didn’t I?”

“Does Loki know you have a key to his apartment?” Bucky asked Thor.

“Of course he does. He’s my brother. He’s the one that gave me this key.” Thor said trying to act nonchalant.

“Come on guys. Grab the beer, and let’s go. I don’t want to miss the game.” Steve tried to hurry them. Thor opened the doors and all three men walked in looking for the forgotten twelve-pack that was left on the counter.

“Oh, Loki! Oh, fu-baby don’t stop. Don’t stop! Yes. Yes. YES!”

The three men paused hearing you scream from your bedroom. Steve blushed a strawberry red and walked right out the door.

“I just learned my lesson! Never come here uninvited.” Thor said shaking his head. He pocketed his key and followed Steve.

“Lucky bastard!” Bucky chuckled as he grabbed the beer and locked the door.

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @vickie5446 @psychospore @mukagentropy @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallows @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine

#Loki #Loki fanfiction #Loki fanfic #Loki fic #Loki imagine #Loki x reader #Loki x female reader #Loki x reader insert #Loki x yn #Loki x you #Loki fluff #Loki angst #Loki smut #avengers Loki #Loki Laufeyson #lingerie fic #rough seggs #dom loki #loki fandom #mcu #soft dom loki

[lis-likes-fics]

Delicious

Pairings: demon!Natasha x Reader Word Count: 5.5k words Prompt: Demon AU Warnings: NSFW, corruption kink, fingering, oral (f! receiving), multiple orgasms, strap-on, swearing... A/N: This is late and it's not very good. This would have been so much better but I have ADHD brain and I had to rush this a bit. Sorry, guys. But I hope you still like it! Thank you!

Natasha had never been in this shop before.

Drawn to a strange feeling coming from within, she wanders inside the little cafe and stares at its warm tones, letting her eyes wander the wall of books, the tables and booths, the counter where a beautiful waitress talks to a customer. She lays eyes on you and can feel the mischief twisting in her gut.

You are perfect.

The light that surrounds you is a beacon of…purity. Your tan apron wraps securely around your body, your hair is out of your face, your smile is brighter than the sun and snow outside. She can taste the innocence oozing off your skin like honey from a honey dipper.

You are radiant, and he can’t wait to hold you in her hands and see how dark she can make you.

A dark and charming grin spreads over her red lips as she walks up to the counter, waiting for you to give your warm goodbye to the last customer and offer a warm hello to the next. She steps forward and swears she could get drunk off your virtue.

You give her a bright smile, and she can see it shining in your eyes too. “Hi! What can I get ya?”

Natasha lets her green eyes wander the menu for only a moment, turning her gaze back to you as she speaks slowly, deeply, letting her rasp wash over you like a siren to a sailor. “I’ll have a mocha.”

You nod, picking up your notepad and a permanent marker to write her order as you take in the sight of her face. She’s beautiful. “And what size would you like that in?”

“Grande.”

You pick up the cup, nodding as you do. “Anything else?”

She looks you up and down, drinking you in some more before gauging what it does to you. You seem almost fidgety, flustered. She grins. “What do you recommend?”

“Well,” you chuckle lightly, “I am a sucker for our Christmas special—the gingersnaps. I shape them like little Christmas trees.” You illustrate your words as you pull your hands up to form a triangle, the closest you can get to the tree.

She raises her brows. “Oh, so you make them?”

You nod proudly, smiling widely as you set your hands on the counter. “I do!”

She hums. You’re adorable. “I’ll take it.”

“Alright-y! Will that be all for you?”

“It will,” she nods simply.

You grab her cup size and clutch the permanent marker. “And what’s the name on that order?”

“Natasha,” she purrs, watching you closely and letting her gaze openly drink you in to see how you’ll react. You’re so flustered already, practically melting at the sultry nature of her voice. “But I think Nat will do just fine.”

You start writing the name, “Nat” in pretty script. “Alright, Natasha. A grande mocha and gingersnaps coming right up!” You say her name like warm icing on cinnamon rolls, letting it drip over your skin like melted caramel. You look at her and smile fondly, shyly, your head tilted slightly down but your eyes glancing up at her nervously. “You have…a beautiful name, by the way.”

Natasha chuckles, shaking her head gently. You're hypnotized. “I can't tell if you're flirting or if you're just that nice.”

“O-Oh!” you say, your eyes widening slightly as she catches you by surprise. “Oh, I'm a really bad flirt.” You meet her eyes again and she sees you panic for a moment as you raise your hands. “W-Well, not to say you're not worth flirting with! I think you're very pretty—gorgeous, even. You're very—You're really–!”

She cuts you off with a hearty laugh, reaching a hand out to gently grab your own as she offers you an almost sly grin. “Relax, sweetness,” she bids. “I think you're absolutely delicious, too.”

“O-Oh,” you sigh, smiling as she eases your nerves. Then you realize, “Delicious?”

“Did I say delicious?” She shakes her head gently as if to say “silly me”. She pats your hand lightly before removing her soft fingers from you. She never looks away from your face. “I meant delightful.”

You nod before you speak. Natasha can't help but think how adorable you are, like the purest angel—but how they are in the movies, not the ones stuck up her ass all the time, calling her pest and rodent and vermin.

No. You would never say something so harsh. She can see it in you, the purest diamond. She wants to break you.

“Okay,” you speak softly—and you're so naïve, she thinks for a moment that you heard her thoughts and were offering yourself up to such exploitations.

She licks her bottom lip subtly. She can almost taste your honey. “What was my total?”

You seem to snap out of whatever thoughts run through your mind. “Well…” you clear your throat, “since you're so nice and I own this place… I'll give you the cookies on the house and bring your total down some.” You lean in, and she thinks you'll wink. “Our secret.”

She doesn't know if she thinks you're capable of holding secrets. But she's been around humankind so much, she knows there's always a secret lurking around the corner. You all just can't help yourselves…

“Nonsense,” she shakes her head. “I'd hate to do that to you.”

You smile gently. “Come on. Let me do this. You've been so nice.”

She scoffs gently, not offendedly. “Nice isn't a word people usually associate with me.”

You tilt your head, genuinely curious as to how someone so sweet could never be called “nice”. “What do they usually use?”

With a dark glint in her pretty green eyes, she smiles. “Sinful.”

“Sinful?” you mutter.

She shrugs a shoulder. “I've got a bit of a…mischievous streak.”

You smile sweetly. “And I like giving pretty girls free cookies.”

Natasha sighs, looking you up and down for the sole reason of flustering you again. “Well,” she says, “at least accept this big tip.”

“Tip?” you tilt your head.

“For a beautiful girl like you.”

She's done it. You clear your throat and nod. “O-Oh. Okay,” you say, watching her pull out her wallet. When she pulls out a hefty $50 bill, your eyes widen and you look like you'll have a heart attack. “Oh, this is too much! I can't accept this!”

She makes a pouty face, gazing at you with those pretty green eyes. She leans forward, and you feel yourself crumbling at the sight of her. “Oh, but you would break my heart if you didn't.” She slides the bill over and smiles, still presenting her puppy dog eyes as she lowers her voice. “You don't want to break my heart…do you?”

No. Never. How could you ever break the heart of someone so…her?

“I…” your teeth graze your bottom lip as you think to yourself before ultimately giving in. “Okay.” You slowly reach your hand out and hesitantly grab the bill, clearing your throat and feeling a little clammy for accepting the money as you put it in the pocket of your apron.

She smiles, but it's more like a smirk, a devilish curl of the lips that you don't quite label as dangerous, like you should.

“Good girl,” she purrs.

You don't know why that has such an effect on you. You feel yourself go limp but you stay standing as your eyes flutter and you feel the need to clear your throat again.

“While I'm in the charitable spirit,” Natasha says, satisfied with your obedience, “why don't you go out with me sometime? Got any Christmas plans?”

Your face is warm, the tips of your ears burn with the idea of going out with such a beautiful creature. As you think of your holiday plans, you shake your head. “Uhm, n-no.” Why can't you seem to speak today?

“No?” she says, her face drenched in surprise. “No dinner with family, an outing with friends?” She finds it hard to believe that a sweet girl like you has nothing to do for the biggest holiday season of the year.

But it's hard to have friends when you're all the way in New York and your family is all the way in California and all your friends are visiting their families or have their own friends to be with.

So, no… no plans for you.

“No,” you smile, almost sadly. “Nothing for me this year.”

Natasha almost thinks she's taking pity on you when she asks this, rather than forming her own plan to taint your white ledger.

“Well, I've got no plans. You've got no plans.” She smiles and reaches her hand out to brush your fingers. “Let's fix that.”

“O-Okay,” you stutter.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

She nods, pleased with you. “I'll meet you here, then. Seven o'clock, Christmas day. Dress to impress.”

You smile sweetly. “Always do.”

“I can see that,” she says, looking you up and down with an appreciative glance.

You smile widely, a grand smile that puts the sun to shame. “I'll have your order right out.” You pick up your pen and dot the notepad you have her order written on.

Natasha nods before turning and walking toward a tiny table by the window, the morning light still pouring in, even as the morning slowly dwindles into noon. She watches you as you work, her eyes glued to your body as she follows you everywhere.

You really are just so…pure. She was thinking it may have been a façade to make the customers feel welcome, but one look at you, one sniff of your perfume, one word from your sweet lips and she knew you were sweet as sugar. Pure.

She hasn't met someone this pure in a very long time, if ever.

And you would taste divine.

“Nat.”

Her name said by such honey-tainted lips pulls her from her thoughts. She rises from her seat and makes her way to you once more.

Your smile is already ready, and just so sweet. “I hope you enjoy. Thank you for coming and…” you smile, biting your lip briefly, “I'll see you soon.”

“Thank you…” Her gaze darts down to your nametag, reading the letters one-by-one to savor the taste of it. She says your name like she's making love to it. You shudder. “Beautiful name.”

“Thank you,” you speak, your voice so soft and gracious she could have mistaken it for a whimper.

Natasha grabs the cup and the box of cookies, her fingers intentionally brushing yours as she speaks. “Christmas day. Seven. Don't forget.”

You shake your head. “I won't.”

She smiles. “Goodbye, angel.”

You nod quickly, too excited to see her again. “Bye, Nat.”

She walks out of the little cafe, her treats in hand. She lets the door close behind her, lets the bell ring about her head. Once she's out of the coffee shop but still in your view, she takes a sip of her scorching hot coffee like it's nothing and sighs. Even the coffee is as pure as you, perhaps because it was made by such hands.

She turns her head to see you watching her through the window and just nods. She watches your fluster, nodding proudly back to her before trying to look busy.

She can't wait to devour you.

~

You don't know how you got here, with your back pressed to your bedroom wall, with Natasha's hands smoothing underneath your shirt to touch the bare skin of your waist, with your lips molding perfectly with her own like they were made to fit together.

You'd gotten to the cafe an hour early, pretending—even to yourself—to tidy the place since you were closed for the holiday. Natasha showed up five minutes late, but fashionably so. She was beautiful; a pretty blouse red as blood, dark slacks tight around her waist and loose the rest of the way down, a black coat draped down past her knees.

The air was knocked from your lungs. She was beautiful.

Her eyes examined you, and she was impressed. You wore a short, long-sleeved, cream-colored dress and skin-colored tights to fight the cold. An angel.

She’d taken your hand and kissed the back of it, telling you how beautiful you were—though you swear you heard her say “delicious” again.

Then she took you to dinner. It was a nice restaurant, somewhere cozy with really good food. She paid for your food and for dessert, and you told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then she took you ice skating. She held your hand the whole time and paid for you, and you told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then she took you on a late night walk through the park. She held your hand and kept you close and told you that the moon looked beautiful on your skin. You told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then when she walked you home, telling you how beautiful you were at the doorstep and taking your hands and pulling you in for a gentle kiss, you smiled and kissed her back. Then she kept kissing you, and you kept kissing back.

And it turned into you opening your door and letting her inside, kissing her some more and offering her coffee, only to have her tell you that she had everything she needed right here.

Hands wandered, then lips wandered, then she pressed you into the wall, and now she's got you laid out on your bed, still fully dressed and so, so hot.

She leans over you, inhaling the scent of your perfume with a sigh as she keeps kissing you. You hold her, your arms wrapped securely around her neck to keep her close.

Her teeth graze your lip, struggling to refrain from biting so hard, she draws the sweet syrup of your blood. You lean into her touch, keening against her and longing to savor the flavor of her name on your lips as you whisper, “Natasha.”

She wraps her hand around your throat as her mouth trails down to your neck, to your collarbone, feeling your pulse beating rapidly under the skin. Her teeth sink into your flesh, and she chuckles deeply when your breath hitches.

She could just as easily crush your windpipe if she wanted to. She could snap her fingers, and you'd be reduced to nothing but a pile of ash and bone.

But where was the fun in that?

No, she would savor you. She would lick your skin and taste the sweet ambrosia you'd create all for her. She would carve her name into your flesh with the bite of her claws. She would sink her sharp teeth to the bone. She would make you scream until the only word you knew were the letters of her name.

Her hand dips low under your dress, gripping your thigh as she slowly moves it up, up, up, her fingers digging into your skin as she does. Your eyes flutter shut, resorting to just feeling her as she touches you any way she likes. She hums deep in her throat as she pulls back to look at you, riding your dress up and pulling your leggings down so she can see the pretty panties you wore for her.

“Mm,” she sighs. “You look delicious, darling.”

Your tiny chuckle comes out as a breathy moan. “Don’t you mean,” you whimper slightly as her sharp nails dig into your skin as they make their way down your leg, the stinging sensations exciting you more than she initially thought. Corrupting you will be easy. “Don’t you mean ‘delightful’?”

Her hand around your throat tightens just a slight, not enough to constrict any airflow, but just enough for you to feel the warmth of her palm against your skin. “No,” she rasps. “I mean delicious.”

She manages to get your tights off, humming appreciatively at your lacey panties before ripping those off your body instead. You gasp lightly but say nothing else, allowing her to do as she wishes as you sit back and enjoy it.

Your hips jerk when her thumb teases the skin of your mound, dipping between your thighs just enough to press it lightly to your clit. Your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling in quick succession as she presses her thumb so lightly, you wonder if she’s actually touching you. She teases you like this for a moment, feather-light touches that make you so desperate for her.

“Tasha,” you whimper. “Please, I need you.”

Her eyes glint at the way you plead for her. Already, you’ve begun to beg. You’re so responsive, so sensitive to her touch. One would think you were untouched, but no… She would be able to smell that off you, and she smells that this is not the first time someone has been between your legs.

How precious you are. Tainted but still so unspoiled.

The pad of her middle finger grazes your slit, teasing you further as your body keens for her touch. “Say it one more time for me, baby,” she whispers in your ear. “Say it. ‘Please, I need you.’ Lemme hear it.”

You whine gently, letting one hand travel to her hair to let your fingers card through the softness of her red locks. You let your bottom lip pass between your teeth before you gladly obey her. “Please,” you whisper, lifting your hips to meet her. “I need you.”

Proud of herself, and of you, she slips her finger inside of you, sheathing it in the warmth and wetness of your body. You hum, closing your eyes. “How is that, angel?” she smiles, watching your eyes dart behind your closed lids.

You nod, parting your lips as a breath passes through them. “Yes.”

She grins devilishly. “Good girl.” She rewards you with another finger in the tightness of your slickening pussy. You reward her with another little whimper. She pumps them slowly, in and out of you, pushing them deep to feel every little part of you before allowing herself to pull out and do it again.

She curls her fingers inside of you, a come hither motion making your lips round into a ‘o’ shape. You whisper her name again, gently begging her for more. More closeness, more pleasure, more her.

She pumps them slowly, massaging your spongy walls as you begin to move your hips to the rhythm. “More?” you whimper, still so polite as you beg her for a request. And how could she say no when you’re as sweet as you are?

“You want more of me, angel?” she smiles. “I’ll give you some more.”

She dips down to kiss your collarbone again before she pulls her fingers out of you and laughs at the way you whimper, a pathetic little sound at the loss of her touch. Before you can begin to protest, you hear her snap and feel the zipper at your back begin to zip down your body. But you have no time to question her, as her lips attack yours between the time it takes to pull the dress over your head and off your body.

You don’t seem shy when you are laid bare to her. You keep holding her and kissing her, forgetting your confusion and shock before in favor of tasting the spice of her lips. She pushes you back onto the bed, abruptly separating you, even as your hands stay attached to her arms just to feel her soft skin.

She leans down over your body and lets her kisses ghost over your flesh, a phantom of herself teasing you. You feel her warm breath at the juncture of your thighs and want nothing more than to feel her tongue next. And it seems your prayers are answered when the hot muscle of her tongue flattens against your wet pussy and licks the arousal she’s pulled from you.

She’s happy to listen to the way you whisper her name under your breath when her lips wrap around you, allowing her tongue to plunge between your folds and fill you with pleasure. You moan and grind your hips against her face. She has to hold you down, chuckling darkly as she continues to lap at your needy core.

She sucks around your clit and swirls around your folds, tasting the sweetness you bear with a deep hum. “You taste just as delicious as you smell,” she rasps, kissing you messily. “This body is so…divine.” You melt under her praise, your hands tangling in her hair as your chest heaves.

Her fingers join her tongue once more, stroking and spreading and slipping in and out of you with the sole goal of tasting more of your sweet, sweet honey. “Natasha,” you moan. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? That’s a new one. Out of all the words in the Urban dictionary that can be used to describe Natasha Romanoff, sweetheart is not among them. Still, it’s sweet, and she thinks you’re adorable for thinking that way.

Natasha devours you, feeding off your moans like they are the essence of her being. Her hands grip your flesh and her tongue delves inside of you. She replaces her tongue with her fingers once more, pumping them in and out of you, curling against that sweet spot hidden deep within you. Your back arches and your moans get sucked up into the walls of your bedroom, pitchy and full of breath and desperation. You need her like you need air.

You moan her name again and she knows you’re close by the way your pussy tightens around her fingers, the way your clit pulses between her lips, by the way your fingers begin to tug at the locks of red hair you have tangled between them. She works harder, so eager to taste your nectar.

You hurdle over the edge with a loud, gasping moan. She holds you securely atop the counter, fingering and licking at your pussy as you gush around her, easing you through your orgasm. You chant her name under your breath, riding out your high against her face as she keeps building you up and prolonging your release just so she can continue to suck on your offerings, like the sap from a maple tree.

The last sparks of pleasure shoot through your limbs, in your belly. Your hips jerk when her fingers curve inside of you just a slight. She pulls them out and pulls away and licks her lips like she’s gotten sugar smeared all over them. “Oh, my angel,” she rasps. “Like heaven on earth.”

And you think she’s done as you will yourself to sit up, offering a sweet smile as you pull her in to kiss again, fully intending on seeing if she tastes just as “delicious” as she keeps telling you that you are.

But she breaks her kiss and stands off the bed and to her feet. You sit back, watching her pull her blouse over her head as her eyes stay glued to your beautiful body. She slips her lacey, only-for-decoration bra from her body to leave herself in nothing but her slacks.

You gaze at her, taking in the perfect hour-glass of her body and gawking when she steps out of her slacks and presents you with the strap-on she’s been hiding all this time. She watches the way you stare at it, smirking to herself as she stalks back over to you, leaning on the bed with her knee. “You like?” she says.

You bring your gaze up to her face, swallowing thickly and feeling embarrassment warming in your face for staring. You just nod. She chuckles, cupping your chin with her hand and shaking her head. She thinks you’re adorable.

She slides the hand around to your neck, cupping you there and pulling you in for a kiss. You moan, leaning into her. “But what about you?” you whisper, pressing your hand to her side and stroking your fingers over the skin.

She shrugs, “Don’t worry.” You miss the small wave of her hand behind her back as she lets her magic wash over her, connecting her own pleasure to that of her strap as she’s done a million times before. But you don’t need to know that. You don’t need to know the extent of her inhumanity. It isn’t important to the pleasure she derives from getting to taint something as pure as you. “It’s double-sided,” she lies.

You don’t get to protest because her lips are already on yours again. She slides her fingers through your folds again, swallowing your moans as she lays you down on your back and spreads you wide open for her.

As you're distracted by her kiss, she thrusts inside of you with a deep moan. You break the kiss, laying your head back and letting out a whimper of your own as she fills you, stretches you open for her as your tight pussy adjusts. You whisper her name like a prayer, and she moans yours like a sin.

She gives you only a moment to adjust to her size before she's moving her hips, a slow and steady in and out as she gets herself used to the feel of you, and oh… You definitely do not disappoint as you squeeze her cock like a vice.

“Fuck, my angel,” she laughs to herself. “You're fucking perfect.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders and savor the strokes of their cock inside you. “Please, Tasha,” you mutter.

She likes the way Tasha sounds. She's never been called Tasha before, her nickname has always been Nat. But the way it sounds falling from your lips, like a spell seeping into her skin and pulling her under your enchantment.

And it's hard to deny you when you look as precious as you do.

Her cock slides in and out of you in long, slow strokes as she fills you to the brim. You bite down on your bottom lip, your eyes closing as you breathe long, heavy sighs at the feelings she thrusts into you.

The desire for you, the desire to tear you apart invaded every little crevice of her being as she lost herself to more and more of her urge to fuck you desperate. She wants to hear your angelic voice beg a demon to fuck her nice and deep. She wants to see you fall apart, become a sinner all for her.

She grips your hips tightly, her rough thrusts no longer forgiving as she decides to take you how she wanted. You moan and whimper as your legs climb her waist until they're wrapped around her. She holds your thigh and just keeps thrusting.

You stutter her name, your capacity to remember anything else already slipping. She thrusts into you with all the passion in the world.

And then she pulls out at the pique of your wanton moans. You mewl and uselessly grab at her arms and waist. She separates from you with a sigh and ignores your attempts at bringing her back in, turning you on your stomach instead.

She thrusts inside without another word, filling you up from behind as you let your head hang. “There you go,” she husks. “That's better. Now I can fuck you like a whore.”

You moan, gripping the sheets and letting her do as she pleases. She keeps fucking you, relishing in the building sound of her hips smacking against your slick skin, the sound of you practically crying at the feeling of her fucking you so roughly making it harder to hold back.

“P-Please,” you stutter, clenching harder at the feeling. “Please don't stop. You're…amazing.”

Your gentle praise spurs her on more than she'd intended. She presses her finger to your clit and begins to rub fast, tight circles over it. She wants to feel you come undone. The more you cum on her cock, the more tainted you become with her darkness.

Her cock spears into you, pulling the dirtiest sounds from you as they echoed in the room—skin on skin, wet against wet. Your mouth falls open and you let out breathless cries accompanied with their own pleasured tears as they slip down your cheeks.

It feels so good, and you're going to cum.

You feel your body getting ready for it, building up higher and higher until you can do nothing but moan Natasha's name and shake upon your crashing release.

“Tasha,” you whine, dragging the last syllable out and breaking off into a pathetic moan. She keeps fucking you, groaning roughly as you clench so tightly around her. You gush and moan and she can't help but to fuck you just a little harder.

And when the orgasm melds to a little tremble, she keeps going. One of her hands wraps around your throat, tightening just a bit. She likes to feel her veins thumping under her palm, she likes to feel your life in her hand.

And apparently, so do you as you wrap your hand around hers and hold it securely there. Her eyes close as your pussy tightens, her thrusts become rougher as your moans become louder. She is going to make you cum again, she's set on it.

Your legs are a trembling mess, your arms are slowly dwindling in the strength they need to hold you up. “Please,” you mewl again. “Please don't stop, Tasha. I need you so…fucking bad.”

She feels successful. That's the first time she's heard you curse, and she's so excited to have spoiled your tongue with such a word. She rubs your clit again, wanting to reward you.

“I want you to cum for me again, angel,” she rasps. “All over me. Come on.”

Her thrusts are becoming sloppy, so absorbed in her oncoming release as she readies herself for your own. She pulls you back to meet her thrusts, rough and fast and deep as she continues to build you up.

You moan loudly as the pleasure builds and builds until it snaps. You throw your head back, crying out as you cum with the tight squeeze of your cunt. The warmth and the wetness of your pussy is too much as Natasha follows after you. She moans deeply in her throat as she grinds roughly inside of you, burying her cock in your pussy as if she was cumming in you to give you a deeper taint of your purity.

You allow your arms to give out as you fall forward onto the bed and muffle your moans into the sheets. She keeps gripping your hips tight, still riding out her high as she moans your name and lets out a string of curses.

Your whole body is shuddering by the time both your pleasure is reduced to tiny spasms through your limbs. She thrusts her hips a couple more times before pulling out of you with a long sigh.

You roll onto your side, lazily lying there as you glance up at Natasha with heavy eyelids. She runs a hand through her hair and gathers herself, looking down at you as the pride shimmers in her eyes and her chest.

She watches you, smiling, though she can't help a prickle of confusion when she takes in the sight of you. You lay there, half-asleep and completely spent, bare and vulnerable and exploited by her darkness.

And, yet, you look every bit like an angel as when she first met you. You look just as sweet, smell just as sweet, smile at her just as sweetly.

“Thank you,” you whisper sweetly. She watches you, watches as you pat the spot next to you and cast your innocent eyes on her.

And she's curious, so she lays down where you offer her a spot. Then you cup her cheek with the palm of your hand and kiss her, a long and slow and gentle kiss that Natasha becomes conflicted with as she leans into it.

Then you wrap your arms around her body and pull her in tight so she can't escape—or, she could… but she won't. All that time spent trying to corrupt you, and you're still the virtuous little angel she met at the coffee shop, cradling her in your arms and kissing her forehead and thanking her for the night of passionate fucking she'd just given you.

There is a warmth in your arms that Natasha hasn't felt in a long time. She's not quite sure if she's ever felt a warmth like this. She leans into it, she feels herself succumbing to your purities, despite her best efforts.

Curious, she lets you hold her, even longer after you had fallen asleep as she could safely slip away into the night, never to see you again.

But, no… You intrigue her. She couldn't leave now, especially if there was still so much virtue left in you. She will have to stick around. Yes… she will have to keep you a while longer.

You are a rare delicacy. She couldn't let you go to waste.

True Believer taglist: @activebliss @xxromanoffxx @thelastpyle @likefirenrain @babypink224221 @autisticbrie @alexxavicry @evabalexeeva @dumb-fawkin-bitch @hatterripper31 @kmc1989 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @notzammm @evansstan-akya Red Ledger taglist: @ripleysupremacy180286 @luminous-faerie @nowthisisliving27 @lorsstar1st @poptartpoppyy @blackwidow-3 Red-Head taglist: @red1culous @wannabe-fic-reader @imnotsaddude @lovelyy-moonlight @tessarqctt @fanreader @smromanoff Tag yourself here...

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfiction #the avengers #avengers fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #10 days of smutmas

[httpwintersoldier]

『 hate fuck. || bucky barnes x reader 』

pairing: Bucky x f!reader words: medium summary: having sex with someone you love was good, but having sex with someone you hated was even better.

A/N: this takes place in a universe where Steve didn't make the dumbass choice of going back in time and staying there.

You became friends with Steve Rogers when you decided to join a help group for people who had lost their loved ones during the snap. You had lost all of your family, and in a way, so did Steve.

Your loss served as a way to bond, and you became great friends over time. Although it didn't fill the constant sense of emptiness, having each other's company and comfort made it a lot easier to cope.

The two of you would often sit over coffee and go on and on for hours, sharing stories about the people you loved and had lost. It kept the memory of them alive and made the pain a little easier to bear.

You learned that Steve's family had died long before he had even become Captain America, and his only family was Bucky Barnes - a.k.a the man who used to be the Winter Soldier.

The man spoke so highly of his best friend that you couldn't help but imagine the kindest, funniest, best person in the world.

So it came to you as a shock when, 5 years after Thanos visited Earth, everyone came back and Steve finally introduced you to Bucky, and you hated him. Not only that, he hated you too. You couldn't stand each other.

The air was heavy and tense in every room you shared, and everyone caught the very obvious hateful stares you sent each other's way.

It confused Steve. You didn't have a major disagreement, and neither of you were the type of person to just pick a fight with people out of the blue, so the reason why you were constantly at each other's throats was a head scratcher for Steve.

He did try his best to have you two hang out and get to know each other, but it just resulted in an awkward, angry mess every time.

The reason for your shared hate was stupid and childish.

It was mostly jealousy over Steve's friendship. When Bucky came back and saw how close you two were, he felt somewhat replaced, and he didn't like the way you walked around like you were Steve Rogers' best friend. You, on the other hand, didn't like the way Bucky looked at you and the way he dismissed your and Steve's friendship as if it wasn't worth anything.

However, neither of you would admit to being jealous of the other.

"Bucky I'm begging you, behave." Steve asked, hands placed on his best friend's shoulders as he looked into the man's eyes.

"Why am I the one getting the warning!? She's as much to blame Steve." Bucky argued, pulling away from his friend's grip to restock the fridge with beer.

Steve placed his hands on his hips and sighed.

"Fine, whatever. Just... don't add fuel to the fire."

The Avengers were having a get-together at the compound, and Steve knew how much you wanted to meet Thor, so he had invited you over to hang out with them. The man didn't even think about the tense atmosphere it might ensue until he saw Bucky's face twist in disgust when he heard his best friend tell the others he had invited someone else.

When the time came and you came into the compound dressed in semi-fancy attire, you could feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of your skull. You knew it was Bucky, and chose to ignore it out of respect for Steve.

You introduced yourself to everyone, and you were visibly shy, standing before some of the strongest people in the universe.

"No need to be shy, miss Y/N. We are all like you! Well, I am a god, but the others are like you." Thor said, as he tried to make you feel more comfortable, and you smiled shyly.

You took a seat next to Steve, and not long after Bucky came into the room. He looked around for a seat, and luck certainly wasn't on your side, as the only vacant space was next to you.

He audibly sighed and took the seat.

"You can always stand." You said, under your breath, so only he would hear it.

Bucky ignored you, Steve's request to "behave" playing on his head over and over again, but you knew he heard you from the way his body tensed.

"So Y/N, how did you meet Steve?" Wanda asked, trying to get you to open up more.

"We met in one of those group meetings to help people who've lost someone to the snap, he helped me big time." You explained, smiling at Steve.

"So it's been what? Five years since you met? You must be like best friends now." Bruce said with a smile, finding your friendship cute.

Upon hearing those words, Bucky scoffed.

"Best friend? She wishes."

"I've been around more than you have."

You didn't want to reply to him, you didn't want to stoop to his level, but the reply came out of you automatically.

"I was physically unavailable 'cause I was snapped." Bucky argued, turning his body to face you.

Steve buried his face in his hands and sighed, as if saying "here we go", as the rest of the Avengers just looked confused.

"Bucky and Y/N don't get along... at all." Steve explained, brreaking the awkward silence and tension.

"Why?" Bruce dared to ask, his curiosity not getting the hint to leave the subject alone.

"If you have a conversation with her you'll understand why."

"I'd say the same but you're the most antisocial person I've ever met. You couldn't hold a conversation to save your life." You retorted instantly.

Pure hatred, disgust and anger were displayed on your faces as you engaged in what seemed like the most intense staring contest.

"Guys, please calm down, this is the first time we've all been together since everyone came back, let's all just take it down a notch and have a good time, okay?" Steve said, looking between the two of you, practically begging with his eyes.

"Whatever, I'm gonna get some air." Bucky said as he downed his beer and left the room.

Steve felt bad, but he also felt that leaving the room would probably be best for Bucky, as you two couldn't be in the same space together at that time without bickering, and you didn't know the compound well to go around and blow off some steam.

Some of the tension immediately died down, and soon after the group went back to the regular conversation, sharing stories, remembering old times, and bonding again over their experiences.

Since you were drinking, it wasn't long before you needed to use the bathroom.

"Steve?" You asked, tapping the man's shoulder.

He turned to look at you, focusing on what you had to say.

"Where's the bathroom?" You asked in a hushed voice.

"You go through there," Steve started, pointing at a hallway behind you "make a right, and it's the third door on your left."

You thanked the man and excused yourself from the room, although everyone else was too engaged in the conversation to notice.

After going to the bathroom, your mind was too distracted thinking about how lucky you were to be sitting and laughing with the Avengers to realize that you had gone the wrong way, and when you came back down to earth you registered that you had no fucking idea where you were and how to get back to the common area.

"Shit..." You said, looking around and wandering about as you attempted to find yourself.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

You recognized the voice that echoed behind you instantly. How could you not, it triggered you every single time.

You turned around to find Bucky, standing there in his usual "I'm better than everyone" with arms crossed and a raised eyebrow.

"I just love walking around and staring at walls and doors that all look the same." You said with an insincere smile, causing Bucky to roll his eyes.

You resumed your hunt for the area where everyone was gathered, but the soldier caught up to you and stood in your way.

"You're lost, aren't you?" He had this smile of amusement on his face.

The man was just waiting for you to admit it, so he could make fun of you for it.

"Bucky get the fuck out of my way, you're so annoying I don't know what could've possessed Steve to be your friend."

You shoved him as you said that, attempting to get past the Soldier. But apparently your comment set him off, as he grabbed your arm and pressed you against the wall. The soldier's face was centimetres away from yours, his jaw was clenched and eyes displaying a plethora of emotions you couldn't even begin to describe.

"You're out of your fucking mind if you think for a second that Steve would somehow prefer being with you than with me. I'm his brother, you were just a replacement while I wasn't back."

You scoffed and tried to shake him away, but to no avail.

"Is that why your panties are always in a twist when I'm around? You're jealous?" You teased, knowing fully well you were stepping into dangerous territory.

Bucky's grip went from his regular hand holding your arm to his bionic hand gripping your jaw, pinning it against the wall.

"Listen here princess, there's nothing to be jealous about. If you think I'd ever feel something other than disgust about someone as useless as you, then you're dead wrong. You mean nothing to me." His face was even closer to yours as he spat those words, hate and anger dripping from every single one.

"Oh and I'm so hurt by your words, will I ever get over it?" You asked sarcastically, bottom lip pouting and fake sadness displayed in your face.

"Shut the fuck up, I'm so fucking tired of hearing you bitch all the time." Bucky's voice was just above a growl, and it intimidated you beyond belief, but you'd never show it.

"Shut me up then."

Bucky opened the door next to you and shoved you inside, then slamming the door closed.

His bionic hand wrapped around your neck and brought you closer, your body crashing against his.

"I'm gonna shut you up alright, I'm gonna fuck you dumb so you stop running that little bitchy mouth of yours." Bucky told you, switching the tension in the room immediately.

"You're doing a whole lot of talking and not a lot of fucking."

"You're such a fucking brat" The soldier growled, pushing you against the wall and violently smashing his lips against yours.

The kiss was rough. No, it was animalistic. Your heads moving from side to side as you fought with your tongues for dominance, teeth clashing and hands all over each other, with lip and neck bites here and there.

Your hands tugged on his hair, and your thigh sneaked in between his legs, rubbing against his growing boner.

Bucky, on the other hand, squeezed all of your curves - your waist, your hips, your thighs and your ass. Any piece of flesh he could get his hands on, he'd squeeze and slap.

Unbeknownst to each other, you had also turned that moment into a competition, and you were desperately trying to make each other moan, as if the blatant display of pleasure from the other party was a trophy, as if it was a confirmation of submission.

In traditional Bucky fashion, he grew impatient, and decided to play dirty. As he mantained one hand on your ass, the other sneaked in between your bodies and undid your pants' button and zipper. Before you could protest, his hand found its way inside of your panties, and two of his fingers pushed inside of you.

"Shit- fuck!" You cursed as you pulled away from the kiss and gripped his shoulders, not being able to contain the ecstasy his touch made you feel anymore.

"So wet for me, doll." Bucky teased, whispering in your ear "Are you sure you hate me? Maybe you just really wanted to fuck me all this time."

He bit your earlobe and you groaned, out of pleasure and frustration. You wanted to complain and shoot back a snarky remark, but fuck the way his fingers filled you up and stretched you out was so delicious that you just couldn't.

"Fuck... you." You managed to say between deep breaths, as your head hit the wall.

Bucky slapped your ass harshly, and attacked your neck with small bites as a punishment (that you definitely wanted more of).

Your back started arching as your climax approached. You weren't sure if it was because it was Bucky or if it was because you were fucking in the middle of a party, but your climax approached extremely fast. And Bucky could tell.

He could very well tell you were about to cum from the way your eyes shut, your back arched and the way your hips desperately started grinding on his fingers begging for more.

So he picked up the pace, right before pulling his fingers out, and licking them clean in front of you.

"You fucking asshole." You said, out of breath, looking at him through your lashes.

"Sticks and stones princess."

You began getting on your knees, when Bucky gripped your neck and got you back up.

"Oh how cute, you thought I'd give you the chance to do the same to me? How stupid do you think I am?" He cooed mockingly, then approaching his face to yours "I own you. I control you and I will use you as I please. Got it?"

Although his tone was aggressive and intimidating, and his eyes expressed a mix of lust and seriousness, you'd never let him win at this mind game.

"Fat fucking chance, asshole."

The man picked you up, swung you over his shoulder and carried you to the bed, slapping your ass harshly before letting you fall on the mattress. He pulled down your pants, as well as your underwear and discarded of them.

Bucky then hovered over you and looked at you threateningly, the thing he seemed to be best at.

"You're such a fucking brat... I'm gonna love to destroy you."

You didn't realize he had pulled his cock out by the time he finished the sentence, and just as you were going to say something, he bottomed inside you.

The fucker had timed it perfectly to shut you up with his cock, and you knew it. You knew it because as you looked at him through half lidded eyes you could see his smile, a smile that said "I win" as his tongue poked against the inside of his cheek.

"What's that princess? Wanted to say something? Go ahead. Say it."

He knew you couldn't. Bucky was perfectly aware that you couldn't speak because he promised to fuck you dumb and he was achieving it.

The way he held you down with one hand on your hips and one around your neck, his hips incessantly snapping against yours at a pace you had no idea was even possible.

All could manage to leave your lips were moans and incoherent swear words that you yourself couldn't put together.

"That's it, doll, you look so good like this, taking my cock." Bucky's voice then darkened "I'm going to fuck the brat out of you no matter how many times it takes."

Bucky was loving it. Seeing you be so submissive in front of him, moaning and whimpering as you took him all in... It took all his strenght not to cum quickly, but he wanted to see you cum first. He wanted to see how good you looked as you came, knowing he (the person you hated most) was the reason you were climaxing.

As soon as your hands gripped the sheets and your back arched once more, Bucky knew you were close.

"That's it doll, cum for me. Cum on my cock princess, I want to see how good you look." He said, breathless.

It wasn't long before you obeyed his command.

"Fuck, Bucky!" You yelled as your climax hit, your legs trembled and your eyes saw stars.

Your mind went blank, and you could swear you had passed out for a second.

The soldier finally let go, buried himself deep inside of you and came, as he groaned and gripped your hips tigther.

When he pulled out, he fell beside you on the bed, trying to regain his breath like you.

No words were exchanged, you simply stood up and put your clothes back on and the man followed suit.

You made your way to the door and opened it, before stopping and stealing one last look at Bucky.

"This was the first and last time."

The man chuckled, paused and stood up, walking up to you until his chest was against your back and his hands on your hips.

"Sure thing princess, lie to yourself all you want, but you can't lie to me, you'll be back. I saw how desperate and wwet you were for my cock."

You felt the heat in your body rise, and just pushed him away as you tried to find your way back to the common area, trying to forget what had just happened.

You fixed your hair and makeup as best as possible with the help of your phone's screen, and once you started hearing their voices in the distance you found your way back.

The vibe of the room slightly shifted when you entered, but you just assumed that it was because they weren't used to you.

However, the belief changed when you sat down beside Steve and he leaned in to whisper to you.

"I take it you two... made peace?" He asked, a little big of hope and disgust intertlocked in his words.

You looked at him with wide eyes and fake confusion on your face.

"What do you mean!?" You whispered back and Steve rolled his eyes.

"Y/N, we all heard you scream 'Fuck, Bucky'."

[TAGS]

@pattiemac1 ; @buckysfirstbitch ; @low0tter

#bucky #marvel #bucky smut #bucky fanfic #bucky reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel fanfiction #winter soldier #bucky barnes smut #bucky reader smut #bucky x reader smut #bucky reader insert smut #bucky barnes reader smut #marvel smut #avengers smut #bucky x you #bucky barns x reader #bucky enemies to lovers

[soulgazingwithbucky]

Mr. Barnes, Teacher Aide of the Year (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Teacher!Reader

Summary: Your brooding Avenger boyfriend becomes a regular visitor in your classroom.

Warnings: flufffffff

Word count: 1k

A/N: absolute self-indulgence - can you tell I miss being a teacher lmao? also Bucky with kids also grumpy bf/playful gf dynamic ugh my heart

When your first graders ask if you're bringing anything to the show-and-tell party, a lightbulb goes off

"I would be the coolest teacher ever if an Avenger came to visit!" "I dunno, doll..." "Come on, you're so good with Cass and AJ!" "That's different. They're family."

You try to convince him by telling him Steve has done a lot for schools. Bucky looks confused so you show him the Captain America Fitness Challenge and all of Steve's PSAs. This derails the conversation for at least 24 hours as Bucky descends into a record-breaking laughing fit. He laughs in bed with you, he laughs at the dinner table, he visits Steve's memorial to laugh with him there

Eventually, he agrees. You wake up to him ironing a henley and chinos. You tut at him and he shoots you a disbelieving look

"Ah, come on, love, cheer up," you tell him as you grab your work bag. He's waiting for you by the door, grumpy as ever in the black leather jacket and steel toe boots he wears on missions. You tighten the buckle across his chest as he scowls at you. "It's for the kids!"

You spend the car ride convincing Bucky that the kids will love him. He carries your bags into the building, but you stop him short at the entrance. He raises his eyebrow at you as you grip the leather sleeve on his left arm and pull. "Oh, come oooonnnn, doll!" he groans as you wave him into the building, detachable sleeve in tow. "Give the people what they want, babe!" you say.

You prepare your classroom for the day before the kids come in. Your room is suddenly the most popular in the building as staff filter in and out, hearing rumors that an Avenger would be in the building. Your principal insists that Bucky speak to the whole school next time. Your work best friend gives him a friendly hug- you all just had dinner the other night, after all. The entire third grade team comes and gets pictures, each of them marveling at a different muscle group on your boyfriend

Your students LOVE him. You eventually have to ask him to spend some time in the teacher's lounge so your class can focus on your lessons

After that, he becomes a monthly visitor. You create a makeshift "Mr. Barnes Day" on the class calendar. The kids count down the days till they see him again

You have to collect black and yellow crayons from the other classrooms. Your supply runs out too quickly because your kids can't stop drawing themselves with a metal arm

One of your students is having a particularly challenging day. Bucky thinks quickly and takes the rest of your kids outside for an impromptu recess. You help your student calm down, and then you both watch Bucky and the class through the window. The kids are absolutely piling on top of him. Your kids proudly declare that they defeated an Avenger when they go home to their families

It's clear one of your students favors Bucky over you, and only accepts help from Bucky when he visits. She asks Bucky for help with a math worksheet, and his eyes widen when he watches her try to solve it. "This is not how we learned it in the '20s," he whispers to you

Bucky comes home one day, proudly declaring that he has the perfect book to read aloud to the class. The cover is a cartoon drawing of an all-American man with a vibranium shield. He is so excited to read "The Hero from Brooklyn" to your students. The final pages even have drawings of him and Sam, "the best friends a hero could have." "Mr. Barnes, is that youuuu?!" your kids wonder.

You turn Bucky's age into the word problem of the day. "If Mr. Barnes is 25 + 83 years old, how old is he?" Your kids frantically calculate on their papers. "108?!?!" your kids yell. Lukas says that's older than his grandma. Nevaeh says that's older than her great-grandma. Raja gently begins to describe color to him, and you both realize she thinks Bucky sees in black and white

Your students beg Bucky to come in during spirit week. They've missed him dearly, as he has been gone for two months on assignment with Sam. Tuesday is Career Day, and he compliments all the little doctors and teachers as they step off the school bus. He is shocked to see a little kid in all black with their arm wrapped in foil. But more and more Buckies filter in, until he is surrounded by a sea of mini-mes. "We're gonna be superheroes when we grow up!!!" they yell, arms adorned in refashioned black tights, foil, and gold body paint. Bucky sheepishly asks if you can take a picture. Bucky usually hates taking pictures, and his request makes your whole year

You told your class that Bucky was just your friend, but your students are way too smart to believe that, especially after Bucky accidentally calls you "sweetheart" in front of them. Graham misses a day for his aunt's wedding; he comes back and asks if you two would invite the class to your wedding. The class loses their marbles over this, yelling, "Mrs. Barrnnessss!" at you. Bucky turns red. During snack, some of the kids draw pictures of what your ring should look like. You proudly hang it up on your fridge at home

At the end of the year, you invite your students' families to a class celebration. You do this every year, but this year has the best turnout (gee, you wonder why). You have a silly awards ceremony, with certificates celebrating "Most Dinosaur Facts Memorized" and "Best at Catching Their Teacher's Mistakes". Bucky is a puddle of pride and love in the corner until the kids demand he comes up. He's confused until they shove a certificate in his hand: "Mr. Barnes, Best Teacher Helper Ever"

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x Female Reader #bucky #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes imagine #Avengers #avengers fic #avengers fanfic #avengers fanfiction #avengers reader insert #marvel #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #kingsfics

[urdepressedslut]

Love Me to Death

✧ Pairing — Avengers!Bucky Barnes x Siren!Fem!Reader

✧ Summary — The Avengers compound receives a new recruit. She’s a siren who can make anyone fall deathly in love with her with one word. Bucky immediately takes interest in her as he discovers she’s mute, for good reason of course.

✧ Warnings — light angst, hints to past trauma, mentions of bucky’s trauma, hints to PTSD, hints of anxiety

series masterlist ✧ inbox open

You would never get over the view of the Atlantic Ocean. The way you found yourself getting lost as your eyes focused further and further into the distance. The way the earth curved, the way it appeared the ocean just dropped off. Nobody could ever know what went on out there, what happened when there were no wandering eyes. The secrets that the water held, the dark beauty that painted the waters.

Of course, this wasn’t a goodbye forever— just for a while. You couldn't help the pain that formed in your chest, the way your eyes watered at the last view glimpses of your home.

"You about ready to go (Y/n)?" Fury asked from the sand below.

You turned your head towards him, not missing the quick flash of guilt that passed through his expression. You turned back towards the water, taking one last deep breath in— the crisp air filling your lungs.

"If everything works out the way it should— you'll be back here soon." He reminded you, and you knew that was an estimation.

It was the best outcome that you'd return— but the chances were slim. Considering everything, this might as well be the last time you'll ever set foot on this rock, looking at this view that you'd grown to love so much.

You stepped down from the rock, standing next to Fury with a solemn look. You shook your head and avoided his eyes, you couldn't seem to come up with a good answer— so you shoved your way of communicating in your pockets. Plus, you didn't feel like signing a bullshit response— you were upset and you had the right to be.

"Remember I'm not the bad guy here, and neither are you. This is just how things need to be for a while." He reminded you, trying his best to make this feel less forced.

You gave in and signed the only thing you could come up with for now.

I know. You signed before you shoved your hand back in your pocket.

He gave a tiny smile, one that didn't seem genuine but you didn't seem to care too much.

“I don’t know why I have to be here.” Bucky grumbled, running a hand through his hair in stress.

Natasha rolled her eyes, giving Sam a smack on the head to wake him up. He was falling asleep on the couch when it wasn’t the time.

“Rude! I was sleeping.” Sam complained.

“Don’t care— and Buck you need to be here. We are receiving a new recruit.” She explained.

Bucky let out a sigh, shrugging his shoulders— wondering why Nat. thought he cared.

“We always receive new recruits. What’s so different about this one?” He wondered, earning a stare from the redhead before she replied.

Her features grew serious, all kicking and joking stripped from her face.

“This one is enhanced… and deadly.”

His eyes widened and all at once he understood his place now. He was here when things went wrong— the expendable one. Although it made his jaw clench, slight anger running through his veins— he nodded in understanding otherwise.

Natasha seemed to read him without him having to utter another word, she immediately backtracked.

“God, it’s like I can hear you thinking— you’re here because you’re part of the team. Everyone, including you is meeting her.” She corrected, watching his features soften slightly.

“How do you do that?” He asked, squinting his eyes in defense.

She was always able to read his mind, hell— everyone’s!

She laughed, shrugging her shoulder— avoiding to answer his question to mess with him.

“She’s a woman, of course she can read your thoughts. They all can.” Sam added from the couch, trying to drift back to sleep.

Natasha threw a pillow at Sam’s face, taking him by surprise.

“Oh shut it Wilson.” She mumbled, with a roll of her eyes.

“Ow! Why’re you so violent today?” He asked, sitting up and walking towards the bookshelf in the living room.

Natasha smiled to herself, taking his words more as a compliment than an insult.

“Everyone else will be here soon, but seriously— I know you know what it’s like to feel like an outsider when you first showed up here. I want you to help her out, okay?” The redhead asked, earning a scowl from him.

“Why me? Everyone at some point has had to feel like that too— c’mon Nat! I was just starting to settle down here, almost have a little routine for myself. How do you know she won’t be afraid of me— I’m sure she’ll know who I am.” He rambled on, complaint after complaint.

The redhead rubbed a hand down her face.

“I’m not asking you to marry her— just help her out, while she’s settles in.” She told him.

He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get out of this. He nodded, but kept a scowl on his face. This was not how he expected the day to go.

Soon enough, Fury was walking a surprisingly pretty woman into the room where all the Avengers either stood or sat waiting.

It wasn’t supposed to be a dig, Bucky only assumed she’d be less… pretty— with the way Natasha had described her. Deadly. He was expecting a more disturbed, haunting character— not this beautiful face.

“I’m sure all of you have heard whispers here and there— so this isn’t entirely new to any of you. Well… maybe some of you.” Fury mumbled, looking in Sam’s direction. “You are receiving a new member. She will be an amazing addition to the team— powerful and will help keep you all alive.”

Everyone said hello, waving and sending warm smiles her way— Bucky could only imagine the nerves of this woman with all the staring.

She seemed to be holding up quite well, in fact— she seemed glum. Her face was sagging with defeat every so slightly— enough for Bucky to notice of course. He immediately felt drawn to her distress, wanting to know the cause of it.

“Now, as all of you noticed. She doesn’t speak, and will not speak unless she is to do so. Meaning while in a mission, or any other situation where one of you are in danger.” Fury explained.

Bucky couldn’t help the frown that formed in his face. It felt wrong to listen to Fury talk about her like she was an object and nothing more— just a weapon at their hands. He felt uncomfortable, and almost like a flash in his quick blinks— he suddenly remembered the same feeling back at HYDRA. All of a sudden— it was personal.

“Can I ask why she can’t speak?” Natasha wondered, voicing what most of us were thinking.”

It felt weird to talk about her like she wasn’t standing right in front of us— but she didn’t seem bothered by it. Guess you wouldn’t be bothered either, after years of someone speaking for you.

There was that uncomfortable feeling again.

“Yes, that was the next thing I wanted to discuss.” Fury started, letting the woman take a seat beside him. “(Y/n) is a Siren. One peep from her and you all would fall under a spell. A love spell, you could say.”

Everyone went silent, taking in the new information. Nobody knew how to react— as nobody had experience with a Siren before. In fact— mostly everyone assumed Siren’s were a myth.

“So… what? (Y/n) talks and we all go in a trance? How do you get out of it?” Scott asked from the back row.

Fury shook his head, sneaking a glance at (Y/n) before speaking.

“You don’t. You stay trapped in the trance until death.” Fury finished.

Everyone’s mouth went into O’s, silence taking over the room yet again. Half of the group were intimidated— while the other half which contained the stronger Avengers, such as Thor and Wanda— they were impressed.

“A love spell that kills you? Wow.” Natasha muttered to herself, having never heard of something like this before.

(Y/n) surprised everyone when she started signing something in her seat, a shameful expression on her face as she did so.

“What did she just say?” Sam asked, looking at both Bucky and Nat.

Bucky and Natasha shared a look with each other, looking back a you before revealing to the rest of the group.

“She said, you’ll love me to death.” Natasha told them.

Everyone grew rigid at that sentence. The sinister way the endearing saying went from sweet to dark. Even Wanda and Thor gulped, swallowing in fear. (Y/n) was new too, nobody knew if they could trust her yet. Even with the approval from Fury— everyone felt a little on edge.

Meanwhile, Bucky gazed at her with a new fascination. Something in him pushed him towards her— something inside him wanted to know everything about her.

He wondered why.

A/N: this seems short and i’m sorry if it feels rushed, but i just wanted to get this out there. has been sitting in my drafts for awhile. hasn’t been proof read 👀

TAGLIST: @billy-reads @potatothots @buckyb-stan @kmc1989 @silverfire13 @ghostofwinter @hanihoney88 @stilesofhannah @skittle479 @marvelogic @meetmeatyourworst @engie115 @wilsons-striped-ties @x209x @kandis-mom @l0kilaufeys0n7

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[softestqueeen]

slipping and gliding pt. 2

pairing:  natasha romanoff x afab!reader

summary: After what happened in the showers, you and Nat make a quick exit to move your fooling around to somewhere else…

warnings: 18+ MDNI!!!! smut, car sex, cunnilingus, inexperienced reader, shy reader, slight dom!nat, fingering

wordcount: 1208 words

a/n: i’m sorry it took so long, but i’m finally back with part 2! only took me like 100 years to write. I’m sorry I’ve been so inactive lately, but new things are in progress… Enjoy <3

part 1

The two of you went back to your stuff and said quick goodbyes to everyone. Of course everyone wanted to persuade you to stay, but you were able to talk yourself out of it, claiming that you didn’t feel well, and that Nat would take you home.

But she wouldn’t take you home. Yet.

The two of you got into Nat’s care before driving off. The sun stood high as the two of you speeded down the highway.

You thought that Nat was gonna take you home and then maybe take you again on the bed. But when you noticed that she missed the exit that actually led to the tower, you frowned.

“Where are we going Nat?”, you questioned her, unsure about what to think of this.

“Patience love, you’ll see.”, she told you while putting her unoccupied hand on your thigh and giving it a squeeze. At the new pet name, you could feel a blush creeping up your neck to your cheeks and the short skirt you wore allowed Nat to directly touch your skin.

You decided to not question it anymore and just wait and see where you would end up.

After a few minutes, it turned out that Nat brought you to a… deserted parking lot? Very romantic. It didn’t seem scary, because on one side it was still light out and on the other you had Nat, who would never let anything happen to you.

Nat parked in the middle of the concrete area, locked the doors, and stopped the engine. She took the key out of the ignition, throwing it lazily into the centre console.

With every passing moment you could feel your arousal building, the anticipation of what’s to come pure torture.

Nat’s car was quite spacious now that you took a look at your surroundings. You could comfortably stretch out your legs and the seat could almost fit you two times.

The redhead leaned forward to your seat and with a skilful motion leaned back your seat, so you were almost laying down now. The sudden change in position mad a giggle escape your lips. It quieted down though, once Nat climbed on top of you, now covering your body with hers.

She sent you a little smile before leaning down and connecting her lips with yours after what felt like ages, though your little shower innuendo had not even been an hour ago. She didn’t waste any time and slipped her tongue into your mouth, exploring like it was the first time.

Her mouth slowly started to wander over your cheek, to your neck and then your cleavage. In this moment you were glad that you chose to wear a little crop top, which made you tits look amazing.

“Can I take it off?”, Nat asked while tugging at the edge of your shirt, but you were already nodding frantically before she even managed to finish her question. She helped you out of it, leaving you with no bra and only your skirt on.

The redhead leaned back a bit, admiring your now exposed body with a new kind of hunger in her eyes. Even though she had just seen it, she still couldn’t believe that you were real. After snapping out of her thoughts she attached her lips to your breast, taking her time with her caresses and giving both breasts even attention, before sucking one of your nipples into her mouth. She repeated her earlier actions almost identically, but that did not mean that you enjoyed it any less.

Her mouth always felt amazing on you, and you feared that every second her mouth or hands were not touching you, you’re going to miss that feeling. For now, though, you would just enjoy the moment and the sight of her on top of you.

Once she felt like she had worshipped your breasts enough she started to litter your stomach with wet open-mouthed kiss, making you shudder.

She hooked her fingers into your skirt and pulled down your skirt, removing your panties with them. Afterwards she slid down into the footwell, now kneeling between you spread legs. In her new position she continued her way down your body, leaving out your pussy, teasing you and starting to kiss along your thighs.

You started squirming underneath her intense attention, but Nat was quick to grab your thighs and spread you legs a little further.

Slowly, she was now nearing your pussy again and you could already feel her heavy breaths against your heat.

“I’ll eat you out now, sweetheart. That all right with you?”, she asked you and you were able to breathe out a weak ‘yes please’ and that was all it took for Nat.

She connected her tongue with your wet pussy and licked a stripe up your slit, making you moan and writhe underneath her. Tightening her grip on your thighs and holding you down she started to explore you, this time with her mouth and tongue rather than her fingers.

The redhead got lost in the taste of you, teasing you by circling your hole with her tongue before moving on again. It didn’t take long for her to have some mercy on you though, as she wanted to hear what other noises would come out of you.

She started to circle your clit, making you throw your head back. One of your hands found it’s way into her hair while loud moans were leaving your lips. Nat was working you so well, her tongue moving from your hole to your clit and then back again. She was driving you insane in the best ways possible.

You could slowly start to feel that coil in your stomach tighten and voiced so much, but the redhead just started to eat you out more vigorously. The noises the two of you made could have been straight out of a porn movie, the moans and whines escaping your lips, the obscene sounds of Nat’s tongue lapping at your folds.

She took one hand off your thigh and started to circle your entrance with one of her fingers while she was circling your clit only with the tip of her tongue. The new sensation drove you mad, and you were so so close.

When she then slipped one of her fingers into your tight hole you were done for. You tightened your grip on her hair and came with a shout of her name. Nat slowed down but still worked you through your orgasm, her finger massaging your inner walls while her tongue was moving over your swollen lips.

Once you released her hair and got your breathing under control again the redhead pulled away from you. You could see your slick covering here lips and chin. Not being able to control yourself you leaned forward and connected your lips with hers, tasting your own arousal on her tongue.

With one hand on her hip, you guided her back onto the seat, so she was practically lying on top of you. Your other hand started to grope her body before you pulled away from her lips.

“Now, let me return your favour!”, you told her sheepishly and she could only smile before you connected your lips again.

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueen

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[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

The Night We Met | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Would you like to be sad? Great!

This literally consumed me last night, I could not stop working on it.

Warnings: blood, reader injuries, anxiety / panic attack, guilt, hella angst

Bucky appeared behind you in the bathroom mirror, seemingly materializing out of nowhere. One moment, you were alone- and the next, his stormy eyes burned into yours. He moved so silently through the apartment you shared, his winter soldier training rendering his footsteps imperceptible. He stood stone still in the doorway between the bathroom and the bedroom, a large file-folder in hand. Something about him was off, sharply disjointed. His breath was erratic and labored. His jaw tense. 

“Bucky, baby…” you turned to face him, abandoning your make up. “Is everything okay?”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He was angry- or maybe he was heartbroken. He wasn’t quite sure. All he knew was that a violent swirling of unidentifiable, painful emotions tore through his chest time and time again. He almost couldn’t breathe. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He forced the words out. They were cold. Sharp. He didn’t elaborate or give context. Just stared at you, despondent. Gutted.

You quickly rose from your seat in front of the vanity, “Tell you what?” You took his free hand in yours, “What are you talking about?”

He extended the folder in your direction, motioning for you to take it. But you didn’t. You didn’t have to. An incident report number sat listed on the outside of the folder- you’d recognize that number anywhere. 

The world around you seemed to spin ever faster as the silent moments passed. The file shook in your trembling hand, it’s massive pile of papers nearly falling to the floor. “I can- I can explain, Buck…” Your breath was sharp, shallow. “Just come here. Come sit with me, okay?” You tried your best to tug him toward the bed, but he resisted. He remained rooted in place- either unwilling or unable to move with you.

“Buck, I’m sorry- I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to lie to you. Ever. But I didn’t wanna upset you and…” Your voice wavered. Tears welled in your eyes. They made tracks down your cheeks, ruining your freshly applied foundation. “And I’m sorry. I should’ve been honest. I just didn’t know how to tell you. And then it was too late. I’d waited too long. And I didn’t-”

Bucky held up a hand, silencing you. “I don’t understand…” he said after a long, painfully silent moment. “You met me before you met me…” The shame was almost unbearable- he feared he might drown in it. “But you still wanted to be with me?”

You nodded.

“How? How- how did you overlook who I was?” His words came out frantic, panicked. “And why? It doesn’t- it doesn’t make any sense. I mean, I don’t know what happened-” He took the file from your hand and gave it another once over, “it says you redacted almost every detail- every detail of what I did. But here- right here…” He pointed to one of the only sentences not marked out with thick, black lines. “Look at that.”

You eyed the large, black, block letters, the letters you’d seen a hundred times before:

Agent 1209 suffered nearly fatal injuries. 

J.B. Barnes AKA “the Winter Soldier” responsible.

He wasn’t mad- or maybe he was. But not for the reason you thought. 

Tension weighed down the air around you. Bucky stared down at the words on the page, reading and rereading them until he thought he might be sick. 

“Buck… can you talk to me?” 

His voice came out quiet, strained. He struggled for air. But eventually he found the strength to utter one sentence, “I almost killed you.” 

The file slipped from his hands. Papers floated to the floor and formed a pile at your feet, the thick, black lines staring up at you from the carpet. And then Bucky’s knees buckled. He sunk to the ground, creasing and crumpling the papers and their redacted words. 

You met Bucky on the floor in an instant, taking his face in your hands. You knew him well enough by now to know what came next. And though you couldn’t stop the impending panic attack that loomed on the horizon, you could at least help him through it. 

“Can you look at me, Buck? Can you focus on me?” You swept your thumbs over his cheeks slowly, gently, until he finally met your gaze. “Hey, that’s great. Now stay here with me, okay? Stay right here with me, baby.”

Bucky thought he might die. His heart punched against his rib cage, his blood roared in his ears. Dread and panic sat on his chest like cinderblocks, weighing him down. He couldn’t find it in him to make his lungs expand. Beads of sweat formed across his forehead; his mouth ran dry. This was it for him.

“You’re gonna breathe with me, Buck. Just like we always do.”

But he simply shook his head. 

“Yes- yes, you can, baby. I know you can.” 

And though it seemed impossible, Bucky kept tempo with you. He breathed when you told him to, exhaled on cue. You whispered praises and assurances between breaths. And finally, the color returned to his cheeks. His chest no longer burned from lack of oxygen. And the shaking in his hands slowed- it didn’t disappear completely, but this was a start. 

“Okay, let’s talk,” you said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Come here- come sit with me.” With a gentle tug, you brought him closer. He matched your stance, his back resting against the bed. He kept a hand in yours, too scared to let go. But deep down, he knew he shouldn’t be allowed to touch you. 

“Tell me what happened- please, tell me what I did…” he said. “I need to know.”

This couldn’t end well. You knew it. You knew he’d hear your story and immediately implode, collapsing in on himself like a dying star. It seemed like the epitome of a bad idea. A disaster waiting to happen. 

“Please.”

But you owed him the truth. 

“Okay, um…” You swore to take this story to your grave, to let it die with you. No one- especially not Bucky- needed to know what happened that night. But the desperation in his voice, the pleading in his eyes, won you over. “It was around the time of Project Insight. There was that fight on the bridge- the one with you, Steve, Nat and Sam.”

Bucky nodded. 

“And Hill knew it was gonna get ugly at the Triskelion. Shit was about to hit the fan- she knew lives would be lost. And so, she sent some of us- agents who she knew for sure weren’t Hydra- to secure locations. I ended up in a house near the outside of the city.”

Bucky’s grip on your hand increased in pressure. He found himself on the edge of his seat, as though he were watching a stressful movie. Only, it wasn’t a movie. This was his life- your life. And he knew he was about to have his heart shattered. Irreparably so. 

“I was there with a few other agents, people I’d worked with for a while. We’d only been there a few hours when I woke up to this… this sound.” The memory made you shudder. You shut your eyes and shook your head, forcing the images to dissipate. But the sound still reverberated inside your skull. “I went to go check it out and I found one of my fellow agents. She was um, she was on the ground. Her throat slit. She was still alive but making this- this gurgling sound. She was choking. Aspirating on her own blood.”

You wiped a stray tear from your cheek as you thought back on your coworker. Your fellow agent. Your friend. Alana. She was smart. Strong. Funny. You liked her, trusted her. And you watched her die. 

“And I got caught up with her, you know? I couldn’t save her, but I couldn’t just leave her there. I couldn’t let her die alone. So, I sat with her until she stopped, um…” you cleared your throat. “Anyway, it was the right thing to do. But not the smart thing. Cause I was a sitting duck. I was an easy target. I should’ve made it my mission to find the others. I should’ve gotten out of the house. I should’ve called for backup or pulled my gun. But I didn’t.”

Bucky wanted to hide. He wanted to run away and never come back. He couldn’t believe he’d saddled you with such trauma. Such pain and anguish. When the two of you met, he fell for you instantly. He promised himself that he’d treat you with only love. Gentle hands and kind words. He’d never hurt you, never make you cry. He just didn’t realize he’d broken that promise before he even made it.

“But by the time I realized that I needed to move, it was too late.” You took pause. Reliving this memory wasn’t your favorite past time, but telling Bucky seemed like the very worst possible option. He was going to hate himself for this. He was going to spend the rest of his life punishing himself, self-flagellating until he died. 

“Tell me,” he almost begged. “I need to know.”

You turned to him, eyes glassy with tears. “Why, Buck? Why do I have to tell you?” Your voice broke, “I know how you’re going to react. I know you’re gonna feel terrible. You’re gonna hate yourself and treat yourself like shit. Why do you want to know?”

“I have to.” His voice was even, firm. “I have to experience my own memories vicariously through other people- through the eyes of those I hurt. I have to feel what they felt… because I couldn’t feel anything.”

You brought a shaking hand to his face, cupping his cheek. He was so good. So sweet and thoughtful and kind. He didn’t deserve any of this.

“That’s why I have this file, doll. I have a lot of them. I need to know everything I did.”

You nodded. You could never know what his experience was like. You’d never understand how it felt to have decades of memories missing from your mind. Ripped from you. Erased. And though it seemed like a terrible idea to divulge the details of what happened that day, you obliged Bucky’s request. 

You started slow, “I was sitting there with her, and something hit me in the head. It made me dizzy. And then there was a hand in my hair.”

Bucky grimaced.

“My hair was in this person’s fist, and I got dragged down the hall. I’m honestly surprised I don’t have a bald spot.” Bucky didn’t laugh at your joke. “Um, anyway, I didn’t feel my head hit the tile, but it did. Hard, apparently. The pain was delayed for some reason. It hit me a moment or two later. And then everything kind of went red? And I didn’t know what was going on. It took me kind of a long time to realize that I was bleeding- that I had blood in my eyes.”

Bucky rubbed a sleeve across his face, soaking up the tears that welled in his eyes. 

“I fought back. The med team said I had a lot of defensive wounds.” You eyed the scars littering your hands and forearms. The scars you’d told Bucky resulted from cooking accidents, thorns, and cat scratches. 

“And then I remember… I remember choking. I couldn’t breathe. Cause that um… that hand was around my neck. And there was a knife in my chest. My head was pounding, and my chest felt like it was on fire. This warm rush kind of coated my body- I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was blood. Everything was red still, but I remember these-” you didn’t want to say it. “These eyes. The bluest eyes I’d ever seen. And then I guess I blacked out.”

Bucky thought he might black out, too. Knowing that he’d treated you with such violence, such utter brutality ripped him to pieces. It carved through his flesh and bone, down into his very soul. He’d never forgive himself.

“I woke up, and I was still at the house. Still bleeding. One of my other agents was on the floor next to me- he was dead.” A burning sensation flared inside your nose as more tears formed. “But he always kept his phone on him- always. I had to rummage through his pockets to find it. It was weird- doing that to a, um, a dead person. A dead friend. But I used his phone it to call Hill. Next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital.”

Things fell silent and stayed that way for a long time. Bucky knew that if he broke down, you’d end up comforting him. And that simply wasn’t right. He didn’t deserve to be comforted, to have you treat him with kindness. Not after what he did to you.

But he couldn’t hold the emotion back any longer. It came at him with full force, throttling his insides. His hand shook in your grasp. His broken sobs filed the room. And though his voice was weak, you heard him muttering apologies. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t- I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He nearly drowned in his remorse, in his guilt.

“Breathe, Buck. It’s okay…” you squeezed his hand and pressed kisses to his knuckles. “It’s all okay.”

The overwhelming urge to hold you eclipsed Bucky’s every thought. It was a deep-seeded need, a desperation. Feeling your warm body in his arms- your heartbeat, your breath fanning his skin- was all he needed. Holding you. Knowing that you were okay, that you were alive. It was the only cure for his heartbreak.

But he knew better. Who was he to hold you? To touch you with the same hands that once tried to end your life? It wasn’t right. He would’ve pulled his hand from yours if your grip weren’t so strong. 

“Can you come here?” You gave his hand a small tug, “let me hold you for a while, okay?”

Bucky shook his head.

But you knew exactly what to say to get your way, “Please, baby? It would make me feel better.” 

How could Bucky say no to that?

You laid down on the floor and pulled Bucky with you, positioning his body atop yours. His head rested on your chest, your arms curled around his body. And though you’d been the one to almost die by the Winter Soldier’s hand, it was Bucky who needed the comfort. Needed the love. 

“You know I love you, right?” you asked as you held him tight. “You know that I trust you? That I’m not scared of you? I’ve never been scared- not of you.”

Bucky nodded. But tears still fell from his eyes, dampening your shirt.

“I trust you with my life, Buck. I love you- I’ll always love you. Nothing will ever change that.” 

Bucky couldn’t comprehend your words. How could you love the person who killed your friends? The person who tried to kill you? The person who beat you, strangled you, stabbed you? It made no fucking sense- not to Bucky. 

“Honestly, I’m just glad you’re not mad at me,” you said after a while. “I was really nervous there for a second- I thought I was gonna lose ya.” You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, finding comfort in the fact that Bucky wasn’t mad. That he still wanted you- even after you’d kept such a massive secret from him.

Bucky lifted his head. His desperate eyes met yours, “How could I- of course, I’m not mad at you.” After everything he’d done, you still worried that you were in the wrong. That you were the bad guy in this scenario. Bucky couldn’t understand it. “I’m just confused- I mean, why the hell aren’t you mad at me? Why- why do you trust me? Why are you even with me?”

Bucky’s words came out in a hurried scramble. And if you didn’t set him straight, he’d be lost yet again in a deep pit of despair. “Bucky, baby, that was one time. And it wasn’t your fault- you had no choice. You didn’t know what you were doing- you weren’t you.” It was simple to you. Straight-forward. Clear-cut. Obvious. “I could never hold a grudge against you for something you had no power over. ”

Bucky didn’t seem convinced. 

“Plus, I went to therapy,” you laughed.

Bucky thought long and hard about what you said. God, you were so kind. So understanding. But he had stray thoughts. Questions. “But when we met again- after that- why were you so nice to me? Weren’t you nervous?”

You shrugged. “A little- but just because my subconscious was trying to protect me, you know? It was instinct- not something I felt. Just my nervous system trying to do its job.” Bucky’s eyes grew sad- sadder than before. “I knew I was okay, though,” you said, quelling his pain. “I knew you were safe. That you were a good person.”

He stared at you wide eyed, still in disbelief. You allowed him to be your friend. You spent every day with him, talking and laughing and bonding. You made his birthday special, you ensured he didn’t spend the holidays alone. And you immediately accepted when he asked you out. 

“Thank you for giving me a second chance…”

“I didn’t see it as giving you a second chance- you didn’t need one. You didn’t need to redeem yourself,” you said. “I don’t hold it against you, Buck. I never have.”

He dragged his lips across the scar on your chest- the one you told him came from fighting Thanos’s army. “So, this… this is from me.” He ran his fingers over it a few times before running his hand down your arm. “And these,” he paused eyeing the myriad of scars littering your arms and hands, “these are from me, too.”

“They’re from that night, yes.”

Bucky took his time. He worked over your skin, treating each mark with care and attention. He kissed every scar and whispered his apologies. He was sorry for the pain he caused. The blood he spilled from you body. The nightmares he gave you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Buck. I was trying to protect you-”

“Don’t, baby. Don’t apologize,” he met your lips with his in a long, tender kiss. “I understand.”

You nodded. 

“I’m sorry for what I did. I’m so sorry for hurting you.” He sighed, “never again.”

“You’re forgiven. You’ve been forgiven- for years, Buck.” You pressed a peck to his lips and shot him a smile, “Okay, now we’re both done apologizing. No more, or we’ll be here for the rest of time.”

Bucky laughed against your skin as he pressed another kiss to your scar. “Okay, deal. I love you.”

“I love you, Buck.” 

The two of you laid there a bit longer, coming down from the pain and anxiety. You held him close; he littered your skin with kisses. You knew he’d live with the guilt forever. That he’d always keep your story in the back of his mind, allowing the pain to infect his psyche.

“And hey, just so you know,” you whispered, “I haven’t thought about that night once- not since we became friends.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’ve always seen you for who you are, Buck. Not who they made you out to be.”

Bucky felt his heart rate slow. His anxiety receded; his breathing evened out. And with you there by his side, he let go of the guilt. He let it slip through his fingers and fade away. He wasn’t going to let it take up valuable space in his soul, not when that space could be filled with your love.

———————————

Taglist: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality  @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot  @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie  @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine  @evangeliamerryll @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @barnesselo

#james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #Bucky #Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky x female reader #Bucky x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky x you #fatws!bucky #fatws bucky #Bucky whump #Bucky Barnes whump #whump #the winter soldier

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Ch 2 Acrophobia: Fear of heights.

Acrophobia: Fear of heights.

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.9K

Summary: The helicarrier is too high for your linking and you refuse to go on deck. Steve drags you out onto the deck for a mission and you cry and nat hurries to take you back inside knowing your fear.

TW: dry heaving, panic attack, flashback, hyperventilating, fainting, past trauma (mentioned), themes of isolation, themes of fear, Steve being oblivious(haha), HYDRA (yep it’s a TW),

A/n TIMELINE DOESN’T MATCH CANON COMPLIMENT CUZ WANDAS ON THE HELICARRIER

Normally it was fine. You could simply pretend it was fine at least. You stayed below deck. Never going up there. The whole base never went too high that you couldn’t see the ground, so it was usually fine. Except now it wasn’t. Of course, it wasn’t.

Fury had decided that instead of dealing with the storm like a normal person would. He had ordered the whole Helicarrier to go above the clouds. Which in your opinion was the stupidest thing he had ever done. It was a death sentence. Now you actively refused to leave your room. Fear was the main reason. Heights were never your thing. Not since you were a kid. Of course, HYDRA tried everything to beat it out of you, a solider that can't do heights wasn’t a solider at all was what you were told. Growing up in hydra was hard. Learning to trust was harder. The only one you trusted was Natasha. But she was either too busy to notice the problem or simply didn’t care. You hoped it was the first. Nobody else knew. Hydra had instilled a deep fear of inadequacy. That if the team or the director found out you would simply be kicked off the team. That was what you feared. Losing your new family like you had lost your old one kept yoi awake at night. Long long into the night.

You had been lounging on your bed when a voice came over the system.

“Avengers report to the deck. Agent Romanoff, Stark, Rogers, Banner, Barton, Maximoff and L/n.” The voice said and you knew you were screwed. Sure, they hadn’t noticed your absence over the last few days, and you could survive off the food you had stashed in your room for emergencies. But you had all the windows covered in your room, there was no evidence you were even in the sky at all. And you liked it that way. Anything else and you may end up a panicked mess on the floor. You sucked a deep breath knowing if you didn’t go, they would come after you. Part of you wanted to stay, hope they send nat and then fake an illness or something. The fear of the team ridiculing and shunning you was too much. You knew you simply had to suck it up but that was easier said than done. Slipping on your boots you tried to steady your shaking hands. Hydras attempts seemed to only reinforce your fears. Throwing you out a plane isn’t exactly proven exposure therapy but that had tried regardless.

Shaking the memory from your mind you placed you trembling hand on the doorknob. The safety of your room seemed too good to leave. Feeling your breathing pick up you closed your eyes and steadied it. In a moment of fleeting courage, you opened the door quickly. You had barely stepped a half foot out the door before you peered into the hall, seeing the big window leading to nothing but clouds and blue sky you slammed the door shut. Screw the meeting. You thought. You pressed your back to the door and held your head in your hands pulling your knees to to your chest and rocking slightly to give yourself s rhythm to steady your breathing too. After around fifteen minutes you were breathing normally when a knock sounded on the door. Three short raps. In a moment of panic, you called out.

“Im sick leave me alone.” It was a pathetic excuse, but it was all you could think of with your mind spinning at the idea of having to go back out there. Feeling the door move you scrambled away from it until your back was pressed against the bed as it swung open. Steve stood there looking unimpressed.

“Firstly, why are you on the floor and second you don’t look sick. We need you on deck L/n. You can’t simply avoid doing work forever.” He said his arms folded. He was clearly frustrated and had mistaken your fear for laziness. Before you could open your mouth, he seemed to have had enough. Grabbing your wrist, you struggled in his hold as he began dragging you into the hall. You slammed your eyes shut breathing and chest feeling tight and restricted. You pulled away in his grip, but his super strength was having none of it. Tears began to fall down your cheeks, but he hadn’t once looked back at you simply dragging you through the halls head held high. Many agents shot you odd looks but held their tongues knowing the repercussions for insulting a higher-ranking agent. Fury didn’t like bullies as much as Steve, which seemed rather ironic right now. You went limp your feet going on autopilot from years of conditioning to follow him. Often you were dragged by shackles, but a wrist wasn’t uncommon either. Hydra played over in your mind. Steve morphing between your shield college and a hydra agent, the one with cruel eyes and a tight-lipped smile. His hair flickered between black and blonde, and your eyes closed again out of fear. Fear it had all been a dream. Fear you had never left. You choked back sobs. Each sob was a punishment. And from what you could tell this was already heading south fast.

By the time Steve pulled you onto the deck you were dizzy from the lack of oxygen, your surroundings spinning. Nat was there and you prayed she would save you. The hydra agent was gone now, it was just Steve. But your fears were only getting worse. At least in the flashback you couldn’t see just how high the Helicarrier was. The railings seemed too small. Useless. Your stomach was doing flips from both the fear and the dizziness. Your head was spinning, and you felt lightheaded.

You missed Wanda elbowing Natasha in the ribs, her powers picking up on your distress and loud thoughts. Nat looked over at the younger redhead and Wanda nodded her head to you. Nat was quickly spurred into action. She rushed over and detangled you from Steve’s grip. Fairly harshly. She was mad at his lack of care or concern towards your current situation.

She scooped you into her arms and made quick work of hurrying back to the lower decks. You whined buried your face in the crook of her neck, tears streaming onto her uniform. She rubbed her hand up and down your arm as you saw her mouth moving but couldn’t decipher the words.

“Breathe Y/n. You need to breathe sweetheart. Your safe love. Your safe here.” She repeated over and over exceedingly worried at how short and sharp your breathing was.

After a moment you screwed your eyes up and leaned away from nat to dry heave. She slowed her movements, so she didn’t jostle you as much. Luckily you hadn’t had any real food in days after being holed up in your room. You hadn’t even noticed Wanda had followed you until you felt the rumble of Nat’s chest as she spoke to the witch before the cool tingly feeling of the red magic wrapped around your mind and your vision dipped as she knocked you out. Or at least you had thought she did. However, after she had been given the go ahead from Nat, she tried to help calm you down. Yet despite her magic not being a good idea, if you kept hyperventilating you were going to pass out and they wanted to avoid that. It was rare for you to panic this badly, but the flashback and fear had triggered you something awful.

And despite Wanda’s best efforts you passed out in Natasha’s arms. Nat slowed and adjusted her grip to support you head more to stop it lolling around. She swore softly as she and Wanda hurried you back to your room. Wanda stopped in the doorway as she saw the food plates and messy room.

“So, this is why she hasn’t been around. She hasn’t left her room” Wanda said slowly as Nat carefully set you down on the rumpled sheets.

“Yeah, I was too stupid to notice. She trusted me. She trusted Steve and we both failed her” Nat said shaking her head.

“Nat you know it's not your fault. Don’t beat yourself up.” Wanda said.

“I know but i still feel like we let her down.” She said huffing a sigh.

“Right now, we just need to look after her. Nobody is to blame. Expect maybe Steve because he’s a bit oblivious.” She said shrugging and nat gave a forced sounding laugh as the guilt continued to gnaw at her stomach. You had looked so helpless and afraid in her arms. She had only ever really seen that a couple times before. After or during the flashbacks she knew you had or when they had first rescued you from hydra. She had sworn each time she would protect you and now she felt like she had failed.

She moved over and pulled herself onto you bed, gently guiding your head into her lap. You screwed your eyes up and she gently tapped your cheek to rouse you. Wanda sat to your left watching with kind eyes.

“Hey baby girl. It’s ok.” Nat said and you squeezed her hand. Even half-awake with a pounding headache you could read Nat like no other.

“It's not your fault.” You said and Nat smiled softly.

“Don’t worry about that right now love, just take some deep breathes for me. Do you need your weighted blanket love?” She asked.

“N-no. Just…” you trailed off.

“What is it? You know I’ll get you anything you need.” Nat said softly as she patted your knee with an equally gentle and tender touch.

“C-can you lay with me. Just for a bit?”

“We’ll stay with you as long as you need y/n/n” Wanda said, and the two girls curled around you as you grounded yourself on their touch. Everything would be ok.

“Im fine. Steve…”

“Steve what baby?” Wanda asked gently.

“Steve just… he triggered a flashback when he grabbed m-me, and I was already afraid from being up this high. It just… it brought a lot back that I don’t want to r-remember.” You said exhaling as shaky breath. Nat squeezed you tightly in a hug.

“I’ll kill him.” She joked and you laughed quietly.

“No. All I need I have right her on this bed.” You said softly and the two women beamed at you. Feeling the tips of your ears heat with an undeniable blush you buried your face in your pillow as the two women cooed at you.

“Just hug me dammit.” You said and they complied. Maybe this is what you had been needing for those past few days. But now they were here everything was feeling a little more manageable.

MASTERLIST

#marvel #the avengers #wanda maximoff #wandanat #natasha romanov #sicfic #wanda marvel #natasha romaoff #wandanat comfort #wandanat x reader #comfort #wanda comfort #Natasha comfort #acrophobia #phobia #fanfic #self insert #wandanat x r #mcu #y/n #sick reader #reader comfort #whump #hurt/ comfort #mild angst #fluff #fear of heights #helicarrier #nick fury #steve rogers

[deftmeat]

‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ 彡 ‎ ‎ ‎‎ stepbrother!peter parker obsessed with you

NSFW ( mostly just a self-indulgent au )

• reposted since tumblr hid it •

w a r n i n g : contains non con and perv!peter

before tony stark had settled down with pepper potts, he had been with another woman. but after a messy divorce and an unwanted child, he decided to cut off all contact with her.

that woman was your mother. you had never met your father until she handed you off to him one day in the chilly autumn of new york.

after turning 18, she had decided to kick you out and dump you at the very front doors of stark tower.

with loose, messily packed luggage and fat tears staining your face, a man with short curly hair opened the door to you.

of course, later you learned his name was happy and tony trusted him greatly. happy also seemed to willfully obey his every order so you assumed there was a lot of trust and history between them. but you also wondered if tony ever told anyone about you.

it didn’t surprise you though, when you were brought up to tony, escorted by happy, that your father had no idea who you are. and when you explained yourself, he acted shocked you existed.

that’s how you ended up being employed by tony himself, starting out more as an errand runner or assistant to his incessant requests.

you couldn’t lie and say you enjoyed the first few months helping out around the avengers tower and catering to people who intimidated you- but after two years you had come to form closer relationships with those on the team and were more than just a nuisance.

but there was one other person you spent a lot of time with.

peter parker.

you were basically the same age as him, both the same generation and shared the exact same humour. your friendship with peter was nothing like the ones you possessed with the other, older avengers.

your texts between each other consisted of memes and spammed word vomit. peter spilled his secrets and his fears to you while you comforted him and listened. he didn’t see you any differently despite being aware of your hidden relation to his boss, respecting you enough to never bring it up.

there were times where you’d catch him staring at you for too long or you’d accidentally touch each other and he’d linger… just a little bit. you only brushed it off that he was clingy and touch starved.

alas, peter knew sometimes you would feel embarrassed of the fact you were tony’s kid especially when tony never liked to share details about himself to his coworkers. a few of them had been told too but treated you like you weren’t the daughter of one of the most narcissistic men they knew.

another reason you got along well with everyone. so much that you had been silently promoted to aiding in missions and able to train side by side with peter and the rest of the avengers.

when sparing with peter, he’d purposefully sweep your legs out from under you, only to collect your wrist in both of his hands and slam them to the mat, his thighs locked on either side of your hips and his face unnecessarily lowered to hover over yours.

you found most of your sessions under him and while it frustrated you that he beat you every single time, you couldn’t help but notice the look on peter’s face when he did trap you to the floor.

you also noticed how as soon as he got off of you, peter was quick to end the sparring match- practically running out of the gym, his pace fast and posture hunched over. maybe peter was just weird in general?

but he couldn’t help it. seeing you under him, looking vulnerable and so damn pretty like that… his cock swelled with blood and his balls ached with the need to breed you. every. single. time.

the feeling didn’t go away, even after may had died. despite the fact peter had become a mess, you were right there, picking up the pieces that used to be him and taping them back together as best as you could.

that’s when tony had made the executive decision to take peter in. he reasoned that he was already like a father figure to the poor boy, nothing would change. tony obviously had a soft spot for him.

at least, that’s what he said to convince you. and you couldn’t turn peter away when everyone he loved was no longer in his life.

so he moved into the building, took all of his belongings and clothes with him. peter put university on hold while he figured things out. you were understanding and tony- supportive. that’s when he could see the resemblance between you two. you both cared for him. and he suggested to become apart of your family.

of course tony took it the wrong way and surprised peter by adopting him, not even telling you beforehand. you were both speechless but for different reasons.

when peter stroked his leaking dick at night, giving into his fantasies of pushing your head down and dragging his red sensitive tip across your slit and deep inside your soaked walls; he could do so freely. now? now he couldn’t.

he couldn’t have you the way he wanted. peter was definitely frustrated at the new dynamic between you and him but he found it as an excuse to freely walk into your room whenever he wanted. why not? he was your step brother now.

it creeped you out at first, how he would sometimes silently slip past your doorway and make himself at home, occasionally starting up random conversations as if he hadn’t done anything wrong.

eventually you got used to it. sometimes leaving your room to grab a snack or go to the bathroom. you could trust peter not to break anything. he was such a sweet and quiet guy.

and that’s when he would take his chance, going through your drawers and stealing little things of yours.

the sheer panties your best friend from high school had given you for your birthday. a photo of you in a revealing bikini from a trip to the beach when you used to live with your mom. one of the many bottles of body spray that littered your vanity. lotion that you used all the time. another pair of underwear that were less appealing but you wore all the time when you wanted to dress comfortably.

peter even started to lay on your bed on his stomach as soon as you left the room and grind his hips down, rubbing his jean clad bulge against the soft blanket you slept under. he’d stick his face down into your pillow and hump your mattress, veiny hands fisting any fabric he could grab and pulling it closer to his nose, smelling you while he thought of raw dogging your puffy pussy in your own bed.

just when he was on the verge of cumming in his pants, you’d always walk in and he’d feign innocence. pretending he wasn’t just dry humping your bed like a greedy rabbit. you were never the wiser.

you noticed certain things of yours started to go missing little by little until you barely had things to wear or use. you assumed it was the dryer eating your entire wardrobe so you complained to tony and he gave you his card to buy an entire new one.

he didn’t want you going alone though so he made peter go with you. you weren’t entirely thrilled since had he had been glued to your hip almost constantly as of recently but you went along with it, knowing that if you didn’t agree, tony wouldn’t let you go at all.

so when you get to the small shop on the busy corner, peter wouldn’t stop suggesting pieces for you to buy or even try on. you found that they were either way too revealing or borderline inappropriate for him to request. but he wouldn’t stop insisting, going as far as to shove a whole armful of things into you and pushing you to the changing room very eagerly.

“i’m just trying to help.” he told you before closing the door behind you once you fully stepped inside. it didn’t help that every two minutes he’d knock and ask if you had finished, that he wanted to see what they looked like on you.

you obliged, feeling a bit uncomfortable. you were exposed- not to mention in front of peter. your step brother.

you left the small room in the first thing he had shown you, a size too small t-shirt and extremely tiny booty shorts. but peter seemed to hype you up, smiling enthusiastically. his eyes held a glossed over look while his gaze slowly went down your body, taking in how your skin would stick out and show where it probably shouldn’t be.

“okay turn around.” he spoke abruptly, making your face twist into one of uncertainty. he shook his head and merely spoke down to you like you were playing dumb; “come on, i just wanna see what the back looks like.”

huffing out a sigh, you reluctantly shifted your weight and spun to show your backside.

when you did though- you swore you heard a camera clicking but when you whipped your head around to catch whoever had taken your picture without consent.. no one was there.

“peter..?” you meekly stared around, looking for the boy but he had disappeared as if in thin air. the only other people you saw were two employees reorganizing hangers across the wall.

your stomach twisted and you shrunk back into the changing room, not bothering to try the other pieces on and put your own clothes back on, feeling anxious that someone was watching you.

as soon as you went to open the door, peter was standing right in front of the entrance- making you jump and drop the large pile of things you were holding.

“woah, sis. calm down. it’s just me.” he laughed it off, giving you that boyish smile, peter’s eyes never leaving yours. you felt your face flush and apologized- pushing past him to put the exposing clothes back on the racks where he had gotten them from.

ever since then, you felt violated. you avoided peter. you started to ask FRIDAY to lock your door with an access code. you weren’t entirely sure it had been him but he was starting to freak you out even after that day.

you’d wake up multiple nights in a row, in a cold sweat, absolutely sure you could feel someone else had been inside your room besides yourself.

you’d place your hoodie down on the couch to grab a drink, coming back to find it gone.

peter would stay up for two hours after you went to bed, wanting to be certain you had fallen asleep before typing in the access code to your room- watching you put it in while he stuck to the ceiling one day.

he’d quietly shuffle in and see your phone beside your pillow and your face scrunched up while you dreamt. he’d whisper your name just to double check then crept over to your bed, hovering down to stare.

the next thing he knew, he was fucking hard- just by looking at you. that’s what you did to him and you didn’t even know it. his step sister always teasing him, purposefully taunting him with something that was forbidden for peter.

but he bottled up his frustration, struggling to push down his jeans as silently as possible. the slight sound of denim rubbing against itself was drowned out as his pants clung just below his knees. he hadn’t worn a belt for this very reason. wanted easy access while keeping you unaware of his presence.

peter bit his lip when his warm palm finally made contact with his cock, the angry tip already leaking and spilling down to weave through his fingers. “mmshit..” he choked out, careful not to be too loud when he started to stroke himself. his eyes were locked onto your sleeping face, his tongue darting out to drag across his bottom lip with desire. desire for you.

since he couldn’t have you, this was the best he could do, flicking his wrist to increase the speed that his hand jerked his dick, his cheeks wearing a dark flush the faster he went.

“yeah.. wanna breed my lil’sis.. make you mine, baby..” peter muttered, leaning forward so that his cock was right beside the pillow, the back of his hand almost ghosting your nose every time he moved up the entirety of his throbbing length.

he had only touched himself above you one other time but every single night since he saw how your ass looked in those small shorts- he couldn’t help but visit you while you were unconscious, whispering about how badly he wanted to feel your pretty cunt wrapped around his dick, about how good he bets you taste. but he was growing restless, as he confided in your passed out form- he needed more.

which lead to two nights ago. peter couldn’t help but jack off while sitting at the chair in front of your desk in the corner, listening to your soft breaths, one your previously used panties stuffed into his mouth to keep himself quiet - forcing peter to spurt cum all over his hand and bare thighs.

tonight was no different but he was feeling bolder, the aggressive animalistic demand his mind screamed at him to paint your face and mark you as his. to see how hot you looked while his warm sticky seed dripped down your lips and chin and onto your sheets, ruining them. ruining you.

a low groan rumbled in his chest when you shifted, your face now just under his slapping balls. peter almost came at the sight of your unconscious submission, your eyes fluttering and your lips just barely parted. ready to swallow the load he could feel about to explode from his swollen cock head.

his other hand not gripping his dick, shot out to claw at your head board to steady himself from falling on top of you, his body tingling with pure heat. he could barely stand, his knees buckling and the strong muscles in his pale thighs rippling with the effort to maintain his stance.

he was sure he could last another few minutes but when you moved your arms under your blanket, the sudden action pulled it down, revealing the loose tank top you had chosen to wear to bed.

peter’s eyes flitted down to your tits, and upon noticing you hadn’t worn a bra, your nipples stiff and pressing into the fabric- he let out a loud moan, massive ropes of white cum pouring out of his cock.

a few spurts hit your bare collarbones, your chest, the soft blanket draped over you and of course your pretty face. he watched as the thick goo caught on the tip of your nose and bottom lip- gravity causing it to run inside your mouth and down your cheeks onto the pillow.

“fuuuck.” peter cursed at the sight of his cum soaked step sister, all laid out for him.

when you felt something hot splatter your skin you flinched. it had made you stir. blinking your messy eyelids, trying to get whatever it was out of your eyes- you were fully awakened when you heard that familiar click of a camera.

rising your hand up to drag your numb fingers across your face, whatever was on it stuck to your digits and webbed between them. then you noticed it was also in your mouth so you leaned forward and let it drizzle out past your lips and land on your sheets. then you saw movement in the darkness and your unfocused gaze lifted to just barely be able to make out what it was. or who it was.

your body ran cold- you were first met with a cock that was still strikingly hard, leaking and pointing right at you, followed by hair framing the base of the shaft, accompanied by a small trail of the same hair up to below his bellybutton.. peter’s face above it all.

he lowered his phone with clouded eyes, panting heavily and cheeks flushed. his eyes on you.

“…pete?”

#peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker #dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #stepbrother!peter parker #step siblings #x reader #smut #fanfic #marvel #marvel smut #female reader #peter parker x female reader #avengers #headcannons #best friends #self insert #creative #writing

[tuiccim]

Lost in the Dark

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 485

Warnings: Dark content! Somnophilia, Non/DubCon, and other dark elements. This fic contains dark themes and may include potentially triggering topics. You are solely responsible for your media consumption.

Summary: Bucky comes home after a mission and can't wait to be with you.

A/N: Special thanks to my beta readers @whisperlullaby and @fandomsaremylifeline.

The house was dark as Bucky bound up the stairs late in the night. He had been gone for two days and you weren’t expecting him back until tomorrow night. He smiled as he entered your bedroom to find you sound asleep. Naked and laid out on your stomach, you had your arms wrapped under your pillow and your ass was on display making Bucky lick his lips. 

Bucky steps into the adjoining bathroom and strips. He smirks in the mirror at the wicked idea that had crossed his mind. Heading back to the bed, you hadn’t moved an inch and he chuckles lightly at the deep sleep you were in. He had rarely seen you like this and he enjoyed watching you so comfortable in his bed. 

Climbing onto the bed, he straddles your legs and positions himself. He had applied a generous amount of lube to his cock and slid inside of you with little resistance. 

“Fuuuuck, I’ve missed you, Doll,” he whispers as he feels your muscles clench around him. He moves slowly at first but the little whine you let out has his cock throbbing. It had been too long for his tastes and feeling you wrapped around him was intoxicating. His hips began pistoning, driving deeper, and he knew you were fully awake when your hands wrapped around the metal headboard. 

His hand slides under your body to find your clit and make swift circles, “Couldn’t wait till morning, doll. Had to feel this tight cunt squeezing me. Two days is too long to be away from you.”

He knows your body and plays it as a skilled master. Your body tightens and breath hitches as the waves of your orgasm break over you. Unbidden, a high pitched moan escapes you and you feel Bucky tighten above you. 

“Fuck, that’s what I needed,” he whispers in your ear as he thrusts sloppily, meeting his own end. He lays on top of you for a moment, catching his breath, and occasionally thrusting inside you with the aftershocks. Flipping you over, he looks deeply into your eyes with a sweet smile before bringing his lips to yours. He kisses you thoroughly, reminding himself of your sweet nature and softness. “Couldn't wait to get back to you, doll,” he smiles as he slips out of bed. “I’m gonna start the shower. You know I have to have you at least one more time before I can sleep.” 

You watch his naked form as he walks to the dim light coming from the bathroom. When he goes through, you wipe a tear from your eye and your hand trails to feel the collar around your neck. A delicate chain attached it to the bed frame. All made from vibranium. You had been sleeping soundly for the first time in months knowing that he was away on a mission but, now, your captor is home. 

Part 2

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series will be made on Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

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[anonymityisfunwriter]

love is embarrassing

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

a.n. i can't be blamed for this. i swear, this is the last part. (but like, i also reserve the right to do another one if the mood strikes). i just have so much fun writing these two.

bad idea right? | get him back! | love is embarrassing

you loved romance. you loved reading it. you loved watching a good rom com. you loved the idea of love.

you just wish someone would have told you how embarrassing it all was. love is embarrassing. plain and simple. it’s humiliating. and no movie, no book, no past relationship ever prepared you for how much you were willing to embarrass yourself for bucky barnes.

no one prepared you for hearing that tired sigh and watching your friends roll their eyes. every single time without fail.

“we broke up.”

“we’re back together.”

“we’re just keeping it casual.”

“i love him.”

“i hate him.”

bucky barnes had literally driven you to the brink of madness. then reeled you back in. then pushed you head first over the cliff. and as much as you wanted to hate him for it, you know you've done the exact same thing to him too.

something about the two of you, whether together or broken up, turned to usually level headed, composed agents into immature, borderline insane people.

dignity, both yours and his, was no longer a consideration in your relationship.

it was simple, neither of you had any left.

not when you kept falling into each other's beds and arms over and over again.

and in spite of all of this, in spite of all the embarrassment, the moment bucky texts you and asks you to meet him for a coffee, you agree - but only after making him wait several hours for a simple 'okay'.

here you sit before him, sipping on your tea, wondering where the hell your pride went. you were sure you had it right before bucky texted you.

bucky lets out a deep sigh, his hands anxiously rubbing together. "I just - i thought that maybe we should talk. alone. and i didn't want you to think that i was just trying to -"

"hook up?"

he nods, his lips pressed together, "exactly."

"it's not like everyone doesn't already know what's going on between us."

he immediately looks apologetic. you hate that. you hate that deep down, bucky barnes is actually a really good person, just not a great ex-boyfriend.

the real kicker was that he was actually a really great boyfriend, at least, from what you remember. "i should've told you that sam and steve found out."

your shoulders slump in defeat as you acquiesce, "and i should've told you that natasha and wanda found out."

his mouth twists. "so everyone knows, huh?"

"pretty much... does that surprise you?"

"i mean, i guess not. it's not like we were subtle about any of it."

you playfully snort, "no, i guess we weren't."

"why did we break up?"

"you don't remember that huge fight we had?"

"no, i remember that. i remember being really pissed off. i remember saying things that i didn't mean. i just can't remember why i didn't go after you. i can't remember why you didn't come back. and i can't remember why we gave up so easily."

the crazy thing was you could hardly remember what the fight was about. his ego. your temper. conflicting work schedules. the reality was you both blew up that night. "i don't remember either."

"why the hell are we still broken up?"

pride, mostly.

it was always the ugly head that reared itself in your relationship.

you were too proud to admit that you were wrong.

he was too proud to admit that he was wrong.

you were both too proud to be the first one to lay your armor down.

"it’s just..." you start, shaking your head and immediately backtracking, "forget it."

"it’s clearly something," bucky urges.

"it’s embarrassing."

"i promise i won’t give you shit about whatever you say."

"no, bucky, it’s embarrassing..."

his jaw sets to the side, his teeth clicking together. "us? we’re embarrassing? you’re embarrassed to be with me?"

"no! yes! no - it’s - this whole back and forth. if i get back together with you now - which i'm not saying i will - what does that say about me?"

he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "i didn't realize you cared that much about what other people thought of you."

"don't patronize me," you sneer. "you've embarrassed the shit out of me over and over again. forgive me for having some self respect."

"i think i'm falling in love with him," you confess.

"i'm so happy for you!" wanda squeals.

"barnes!" natasha greets him. "we were just talking about you two, so much for being a lone wolf, huh?"

bucky wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. he scoffs, "nothing's changed. we're just keeping it casual."

"i've embarassed you?" bucky guffaws. "you're not exactly innocent in this either."

"me?" you gasp. "what the hell did i do to you?"

"i think she's the one," bucky wistfully admits.

sam rolls his eyes. "you've been dating like a month."

"i'm not seeing your point."

"hey, sam," you greet him, making a point to glare at bucky as you pass the two of them on the way to the bar.

"oh shit," sam chuckles. "someone's in trouble."

"what? no i'm not - " bucky's words are cut off by the sight of you flipping him off as you walk away. "i stand corrected."

"you've done plenty," bucky grunts.

"and now, now, all i hear now is everyone's opinion of what they think i should do!" you exclaim. "do you know how humiliating it is to have everyone's opinions of whether or not i should be with you?"

“you’ll never get over him if you’re still under him, if you get what i mean,” nat quips.

you roll your eyes. “you have the subtlety of a brick wall.”

"you were the one that was all over sam at the bar the other night!" he accuses.

"and you were flirting with some random stranger in front of all of our friends!" you shoot back.

"people are staring," bucky points out.

you hang your head. great, you've embarrassed yourself once again in this back and forth with bucky. "i'm just tired of hearing what everyone thinks about this back and forth."

"but what do you think?" he emphasizes. "because, honestly, i'll embarrass myself over and over again if it means i could have you back. just name a time and a place and i'll be there." you're taken aback by bucky's offer. he was a proud man. there was no denying that. and maybe it's the fact that there's nothing but sincerity gleaming in his eyes or the fact that he's willing to give up something he values so much for you. maybe romance isn't dead after all. "or maybe, maybe we just stop. we stop this back and forth. we stop acting like kids, stop trying to get back at each other. we just... love each other without worrying about what everyone else thinks."

"oh fuck," you hiss under your breath as the realization hits you.

"what?"

you don't say anything. you just realized that you're about to embarrass yourself one last time for bucky barnes.

who cares? after all, love is embarrassing.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[mochie85]

As part of your 1k celebrations I would like to submit the following prompt for consideration 😁♥️ feel free to bend it to your will.

Your colleague Loki finds himself in your rooms at Stark Tower for (fairly) innocent reasons.

You arrive back unexpectedly. He hides, at first.

✨✨

Fairly Innocent

One Shot Masterlist | Follower Event Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

A/N: I apologize, with my whole heart, that it has taken me this long to finish this request. So long, that I have reached a new milestone since this request was made. But I hope you enjoy it. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Explicit. Smut, hand job, oral (female receiving), slight DOM vibes, voyeurism, shower scene, mention of 'toys'. Happy ending. Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Your room was dark and cold. The curtains were shut leaving a small sliver of light shining from the cityscape outside. There was a stillness in the air from being untouched the last two weeks. “Now, where did she put you?” Loki hummed while looking around your room. He wandered in, using the access code you had given him. His prying eyes scanned and noted how orderly you left your room. And even after some time away, the room still smelled like you. Like citrus blooms on a winter morning.

Loki lent you some practice daggers a while ago and was keen to get them back. They were dull and lightweight. Perfect for beginner enthusiasts like the Widow, who wanted to add a new skill to her ledger. Whom Loki had promised to train, alongside you, in Asgardian combat.

Loki rummaged through your bookshelves, thinking you might have stashed them along with your books and souvenirs from your travels. He knew you loved to read. Your voracious appetite for mysteries and novels rivaled his own. He noted Robert Frost and Agatha Christie situated alongside the many romance novels.

Peculiar, he thought. He’d never known you to be interested in such fiction. You two had always discussed classic literature or Asgardian poetry. A Cheshire grin appeared on his face as he took a book with brightly colored Post-it notes sticking out of the top pages. He opened the paperback to a dog-eared page that was clearly read and reread extensively.

Lucy moaned as Cade’s fingers dipped inside her wet pussy. Trills of pleasure ran up her spine, making her unable to stand any longer. He gently stroked her as he whispered on her neck, “Don’t fight it, baby. Let go for me.”

Loki shut the book closed with wide eyes and a wider grin on his face. “Well, well, well. Who knew that the Avenger’s little darling liked to read smut?!” He said to himself looking at the volumes of romance books you had. He was quite impressed by your ability to surprise him. He thought he had you figured out. He might have to tease you about this when you return from your mission.

Loki searched your closet next, but he couldn’t find the daggers. He combed through hangers of clothing and shelves of shoe boxes till he stumbled upon several silk bags with rope tie enclosures. One bag had the length and shape of the daggers he was searching for. How sweet of her to care for the daggers and stash them in a silk purse. Loki opened the bag and reached in but was again surprised at what he found.

He pulled out a black, patent leather collar with a gold buckle. Glistening under the bright closet light, was a heart-shaped tag, hanging from the center. The name ‘Darling’ was inscribed in cursive. Stunned, Loki looked inside the sateen bag and pulled out what he mistook for his daggers- a short, riding crop that matched the patent leather of the collar. Hanging from the handle was a gold chain that had a tag etched, ‘Darling’s Master.’

An intrusive fantasy came unbidden in his mind. It was of you on all fours, with the collar adorning your neck and him standing behind you rubbing the tip of the crop against your dripping heat. “What other deliciousness are you hiding, my dear?” he whispered as he stowed the collar and whip and reached for another silk purse. Every bag he opened had a different set of negligees. Each one was more lascivious than the last.

The smile on his lips got darker as his body started responding to the different scenarios playing in his head. Each scene- novel and unique, to the set of lingerie he opened. More than once, he had to stop himself from reaching inside and rubbing the fine lace between his fingers. “Nope! No,” he chided himself. “Focus. I’m here for the daggers.” Loki took one last look and walked away before he could swipe one of your lace panties and put it in his back pocket like some pervert. “Daggers. Daggers…where are you daggers…”

He couldn’t stop smiling at the revelation he found. Memories of his last interaction with you played in his head under a new context. It was as if he was seeing you in a different light. Truth be told, he did always find you attractive. But he never once pursued it thinking it wouldn’t be favored by you, or any of the team. You didn’t get the title “The Avenger’s Little Darling” for nothing. You were beloved by all. And he was the untrustworthy, extra baggage that the team had to deal with so they could have Thor on their side.

He knew he couldn’t have you.

One last place he looked was your bedside table. If it’s not here, she must have taken them with her. Opening the drawer, Loki shouldn’t have been surprised at what he found, but he felt an exhilarating chill crawl throughout his body, nonetheless. A vibrator. A large, blue, silicone toy that was tapered at the end, was resting neatly inside. You naughty little minx.

Loki couldn’t help the state of arousal he was in. He stood up and stared at your toy, his fingers running puzzled against his lips. He imagined you spread on your bed, lost in the throes of your passion. What do you think about when you have your toy tucked inside your wet cunt? Who’s name do you moan when you’re at the edge of your climax about to fall? And how can he conspire to make sure you think of him?

Surprised, Loki looked up as he heard the keypad of your door unlocking. In a senseless rush, he closed your drawer and cloaked himself invisible. He didn’t want anyone to find him snooping around your belongings. He stood still as he blended with the shadows of your room.

He shouldn’t have hid. You did give him the access code to your room. You trusted him enough to be in here. But there was something so intimate about the things he found. He felt exposed and guilty. Loki didn’t want anyone to think of him being nefarious with you.

A small sigh of relief flooded him when he realized it was you, back from your assignment. He opened his mouth to speak and announce his presence, but he couldn’t. So many questions rushed through his mind. He wanted to ask all of them! Yet, he was struck immovable by your presence.

Had you always been so lovely? Had your eyes always been that bright and alluring? Your smile, an invitation for his lips?

Were his discoveries about you finally shedding light as to who you might be, underneath the perfect façade you seem to have cultivated for yourself? Everything he found was, he swore to the gods, erotic and arousing. But it was the fact that you surprised him that made his level of attraction to you grow.

You walked in with a heavy sigh, setting your duffel bag down on your bed and your boots onto the floor. You didn’t bother turning on your lights, as you zipped your body suit down and peeled off your armor. A rather tame set of black lace underwear shaped your body. Your exposed skin turned a rich shade in the darkness of your room.

Loki noted some bruises and scars peppering your body. The fresh welts were colored green and blue indicating they were recent and most likely acquired from your latest mission. You massaged your neck and rolled your shoulders trying to ease the ache settling into your bones.

Loki watched as you made your way, routinely, to your en suite and turned on the lights. A loud rush of water from the shower rumbled through, disturbing the silence that had enveloped you both. It took his entire strength as a god to keep standing where he was and not follow you to watch.

New fantasies came unbidden in his mind of you naked and wet in the shower. I need to leave. I need to depart before I do something that both of us would regret.  He waited till he heard you close your shower door. The water made loud splashes as it hit against different curves of your body.

A few more minutes and Loki found he could move again. With a shaky breath, he exhaled and made his way to your door. He would’ve continued if it weren’t for your small sighs. Soft moans and whimpers traveled to his god-like hearing. She’s touching herself?!

Loki balled his fist to elicit pain. His fingernails dug deep into the pad of his palms, trying to overcome the overwhelming state of arousal he was in.

“…Loki…”

He stopped and nearly fell to his knees. You said his name! The honeyed tones of your moans dripped over him. Coating his entire body in primal need until it reached his cock and hardened.

He couldn’t leave now. He wouldn’t. He turned on his heel and slowly lifted his cloak, risking everything by pushing the door slightly more open.

Loki licked his lips at the sight of you lost in your orgasm. Your head was thrown back as water trickled down your body. The droplets guiding his eyes down…

…down…

…to where your fingers played with your aching cunt. Your hands explored your curves. Every dip. Every hollow. Every scrumptious mound that he wanted to devour himself.

He stood at your en suite door, his arms holding the frame above his head. He didn’t trust himself to come closer to you. Not until you allowed it. Not until you saw how his eyes became ravenous at the sight of you touching yourself to thoughts of him.

“Loki!? What the hell are you doing?” you screamed out, startled. His eyes traveled back up to yours as you finally acknowledged his presence. Your body turned flush from the heat of the water and the embarrassing situation you found yourself in.

Loki freed himself from your door and tried to answer. Nothing came out but a quivering breath and a small growl of desire. His eyes narrowed and he bit his lip. He took a step forward and closed your bathroom door behind him making your heart drop.  He slowly made his way to you. Sluggish feet carrying him across your tiled floors. “Don’t stop on my account, Darling.”

“Why are you here?” you demanded.

“I heard you call out my name. And I am nothing if not a benevolent god who answers your prayers.” It was as if a switch was turned on and Loki couldn’t stop until he had you.

He watched you back into the tile of your shower. You looked like a caged animal put there for his viewing pleasure. “Why are you here?!” you repeated. It’s too late to be demure. He’s seen everything.

“I came looking for the daggers I lent you. I looked everywhere in your room. I couldn't find them.” Loki’s voice was deep but clear. You could hear the dangerous desire in his tone as he reached for the door to your shower. On instinct, you reached for the handle, stopping him from opening it.

The chase became real. He had to have you. The last hour he spent combing through your suggestive belongings had built a naughty little version of you in his head. Like a puzzle. It was the most erotically charged moment he’d ever spent. And now? Now, you were denying him!

“Last chance, Darling. If you want me to leave now, say so,” he said with a smile. “But I promise you this. I won’t stop till I have you.” His breath steamed the glass doors. Your heart pounded inside your chest as you looked into his dark eyes.

You let go of the handle and stepped back. Loki opened the door slowly, anticipation building up and pooling in between your thighs. “Good girl.”

Loki walked into your shower, still clothed. The scalding water penetrated through his white cotton shirt making it translucent under the spray. You could trace the lines of his muscle underneath.  His hair became slick and affixed itself against his face. He towered over you, as he leaned over with one arm against the shower wall.

Fuck!

He lowered his face. His nose brushed against the tip of yours and you could taste his breath against your lips. “What were you thinking about?” he asked looking deep into your eyes. “And remember, I can tell when you’re lying.”

You quivered at his voice. You looked down embarrassed. “No, no. Look at me.” He said grabbing your chin and forcing you to look back at him. He kept his fingers on your face, gently stroking your jaw.

“I was thinking about you,” you admitted. Your voice was so small. You felt so fragile in his hands.

“Go on, sweet thing. What prayer can your god answer for you tonight?” he encouraged. You were mesmerized by his stare. His voice lulled you to a sense of heat and longing.

“I pictured…touching you,” you started. “I fantasized about your body holding mine.” Loki licked his lips and the tip of his tongue brushed against your mouth. It tingled and the sensation moved throughout your body, awakening every cell within it.

“Like this?” he asked, grabbing your hand gently and placing it underneath his soaked shirt. He guided your hand up his torso and held it there. You could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he guided you over his stiff nipple and then down his lean abs.

Loki didn’t take his eyes off you once. He watched how your eyes widened at his boldness. How your lips parted when you finally touched him. How your whole body moved just a fraction closer to him, capturing him in a lust-filled haze of his own.

He continued steering your hand down his body, past the hem of his pants to his aching bulge. He was big. And hard. You couldn’t imagine what he would look like, what he would feel like, once he took it out. He kept your hand on his cock, driving your hand up and down. “Keep your hand on me,” he instructed. The steam from the shower did little to prevent the shiver that ran down your spine. Nor did it hide the wetness that was now dripping from you.

“Can you feel how hard I am for you?” his arms encircled your body, pulling you closer to him. His mouth incased your lips in an uncontrollable kiss. He weaved his deft fingers into your wet hair, pulling your head back to kiss you at a deeper angle.  He inhaled deeply, smelling the clean scent of your soap and shampoo.

He groaned into your mouth when he felt your hand reach inside his pants and squeeze him tightly. Loki’s eyes rolled back as you expertly palmed his stiff cock. You felt the veins pulsing in your fingertips as you pumped his dick mercilessly. He leaned over you, caging you between the wall and his eager body.

“Don’t stop, Darling,” he whimpered in your ear. “Don’t stop.” Loki bucked his hips into your hands. He captured your lips one last time before he moaned your name, releasing the pent-up arousal he’d been holding in. He fell apart in your hands, and you continued till you milked every last drop from him.

Before the water could wash away your efforts, you licked off two of your fingers, tasting his offerings. “There she is,” he said with a devilish grin. He was waiting for the real you to come forth. You seemed so demure and shy at the beginning. Nothing at all like what he found out you were. The one who reads erotic novels over and over again. The one who hides their toy on the bedside table, ready to go. The one who has a patent leather collar with their pet name etched into it.

Loki growled at the memory. He will see you in that collar. He’ll make sure of it. “But for now, I want a taste,” he said to himself. Loki started with your mouth, sampling himself in your kiss. You winced slightly when he reached for your waist. Reacting from a sensitive bruise that you acquired from your mission.

“Do you think your body can handle a couple more bruises from me, Darling?” he asked earnestly. You swallowed thickly and nodded. Loki proceeded to grab your hips and hold you in place, while his mouth eagerly marked your neck. He continued down to the base of your throat as he knelt in front of you. He captured your breasts with his tongue, paying them each attention. Your hands rested on his shoulders, gathering the white cotton in your hands as you fisted it.

When he reached your stomach, he was gentle and sweet. His hands secured your waist, pushing you slightly higher. “Wrap your leg around me,” he directed. You obeyed and placed your left leg on his shoulder.

Drips of water still fell from the shower. Loki licked and slurped each drop that fell onto your thighs. He flattened his tongue and licked a wide stripe on your warm cunt. “Fuck…Loki,” you screamed when he latched onto your nub, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. He looked up at you and watched you as you threw your head back, your ecstasy showing through.

“Did you like that, Darling?”

“Mmyes,” you whined. “God, yes!”

Loki repeated his actions, holding onto your thigh, as he savored your clit. You couldn’t hold yourself up any longer. Your knees were weakening, and you had nothing to hold onto as your hands slipped against the tile of your shower wall. “Loki, please,” you panted.

“I need to be inside you,” he moaned. The sooner he can make you cum in here, the sooner he can properly bed you on top of your sheets. He looked deep into your eyes and you almost didn’t recognize him. Hunger and desperation were hanging on his brows. The sight of him in between your legs, the feel of his lips latching onto your folds, the weight of his fingers thrusting inside you. It was all-encompassing and all too consuming.

“Oh, God! Loki!” you screamed as he inserted another finger. You laced your hand through his drenched hair, pulling every time his tongue flicked your nub. “Please, I need you inside me too. I need…” your breathing came in harsher. The steam almost suffocating you as you come closer and closer to that edge, waiting to fall.

“Don’t fight it, Darling. Let go for me,” Loki quoted your book, making you clench around his fingers. One last thrust into you and you screamed your release. Loki lapped up your swollen pussy with a greedy smile, making you shudder.

Hours later, you and Loki were lying on the floor of your room. Blankets and pillows surround you while your legs and arms tangle with each other, holding each other tightly. You were running your finger up and down his chest as he read aloud a passage from one of your “smutty romance books,” as he called them.  

His voice was magnetic and hypnotizing. Every word he said came to life inside your head. “Hmm, we might have to re-enact this one,” he teased after he finished a scene.

“Yes, sir,” you whispered, hoping he didn’t hear the last word you said. It just came out. You couldn’t stop yourself from saying it. From bending to his will and wanting to please him.

“I was curious about something,” he grinned, biting his lip. “Which I hope you can enlighten me...”

“Yes?”

“When I was looking for the daggers, I came across this.” He conjured up your patent leather collar and held it up against the dim light. He next conjured up the matching riding crop and showed you the tag that was hanging from the handle. “Who was your master?” Loki asked, unsure whether he wanted to know the answer. “Why do you have this and not them?”

“I never had one,” you admitted sheepishly. “I bought that in hopes of using it one day. But we never worked out.”

“I see,” he said with a devious smirk.

“It was so pretty. I couldn’t just get rid of it.”

“Sit up. Hold your hair, while I put this on you.” You obeyed his instructions. A pool of desire is already forming in between your legs as he tightens the collar around your neck. The heart-shaped tag, ‘Darling’ felt heavy and cold as he placed it neatly on the base of your throat.

Loki wiped his thumb over the tag of the whip. Newly etched, in bold letters, was his name instead. “Well, it’s mine now, darling,” he grinned as he tested the switch on his hand. The sharp thwack stung his palm. Your heart started beating quicker.

“On your knees,” he growled.

“Yes, sir.”

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#Loki #Loki fanfiction #Loki fanfic #Loki fic #Loki imagine #Loki x reader #Loki x female reader #Loki x reader insert #Loki x OC #Loki x OFC #Loki x original character #Loki x original female character #Loki x yn #Loki x you #Loki fluff #Loki angst #Loki smut #Loki au #avengers Loki #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Loki Odinson smut #Loki Odinson fluff #Loki Odinson angst #Loki Laufeyson imagine #Loki Laufeyson fanfiction #Loki Laufeyson fanfic #Loki Laufeyson x reader #Loki Laufeyson x female reader #Loki Laufeyson x original character

[lis-likes-fics]

Into the Woods

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader Word Count: 13.6k Warnings: NSFW, smut, a/b/o, alpha!Natasha, omega!Reader, knotting, claiming/biting, g!p Natasha, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, blood, violence, Natasha goes by Roman for most of the story... A/N: I’m gonna be honest, I kinda just got this as a prompt on TikTok. It was fantasy au, coffee shop au, and a/b/o wrapped in one. I’m just glad to write for Natasha again, I missed her so much, lol. Thank you and enjoy! <3

The bell over the door rings with a loud jingle as you wipe off the counter. You hardly pay any attention to it at first, opting to continue tidying the bar as you wait for the new customer to take a seat. The morning is still young, although the day is inching toward noon as the sun shone through the windows in bright streaks that allow a wonderful light into the tavern.

After you finish wiping off the table, you smile as you head for the newest customer. You nearly pause when you see her: ginger-haired, green-eyed, smooth-skinned, and leather-clad with a sword on her back. She’s beautiful. Her hair is gathered in two braids that turn into a bun at the back, and it gives you a clear view of her rosy cheeks and plump lips that are painted a subtle red.

Her armor is a collection of steel, leather, furs, and cloth. You can see vague designs on the metal breastplate, black and sleek and slightly shielded by her dark cloak. She sits with a straight back, glancing around the tavern like she is waiting for someone—or something—to jump out at her. When her eyes find yours, you offer your kind smile and approach her. Standing in front of her, separated only by the counter between you, you can see her pretty face a lot clearer. She’s even better up close.

“Hello,” you greet her. She returns your smile, though it’s hardly as big. “You’re a hunter, aren’t you?” you ask, nodding toward the sword on her back.

She nods back, not at all fazed by your inquiry. “Yeah.”

“What are you hunting?” you wonder, fluttering your lashes at her like it will persuade her to tell you. She tells you anyway.

“Wendigo.” She leans in a little, as if she is about to tell you a secret with the smallest smirk. “You don’t happen to know where I could find one, huh?”

You shake your head and join in, leaning over the bar as well. From this close, her scent is more definite, not as contaminated by the many smells around the building. It’s strong, rich in the way that it swirls around your senses and momentarily halts your thoughts. It’s an easy scent to distinguish.

“No,” you finally answer. “I’m just a humble witch.” You introduce yourself, jutting your chin out just a little, as if to staple the name in her mind.

Her smirk widens just a tad before she’s leaning away again. “Well, in that case, keep a lookout for me.”

You almost miss the closeness, being able to spot the freckles on her face that so lightly spot her nose. “Will do.” Your mind clears of the slight haze of her scent, and you think back to the creature she’d spoken of: the wendigo.

“This is ‘cause of that boy who wandered into the woods a ways over, right?” you recall. In villages like this and that one, news like that travels quickly for information and warnings. A little boy, no more than ten, wandered off into the woods after dark. The parents had sent a search party as soon as they realized he was gone, and he turned up dead with patches of flesh eaten up and a couple of missing limbs. That village is not too far, either. A day’s walk, maybe. A little less on a horse.

The woman nods, her smirk fading slightly. “Yeah.”

“Poor kid,” you sigh. “They buried him a couple days ago, I heard.”

“Tracked the thing back here.” She lets out a sigh, “I need to speak with the leader of this place. Do you know where to find them, little witch?”

You shrug a shoulder, shifting your weight to your other leg. “There’s no real ‘leader’ here. We’ve got elders, and we’ve got our advisers.”

“Oh, yeah?” she wonders, raising a brow to allow some humor back into the steady flow of conversation. “You one of them?”

You shrug again, grinning back at her. “Not officially, but everyone knows everyone. I’m the healer, and I keep the dangers away. They’ll listen to me. What d’you need?”

She thinks for a moment, “A curfew, especially for the little ones. People need to be inside by nightfall, and, if you have to, no one should be out alone.”

You let her words sink in with a nod, agreeing to her terms easily. “I can talk to people and get the word around.”

“Thanks.”

“No worries…” you grant her another smile, changing the mood a little bit. It takes you a moment to realize why she had entered the tavern in the first place. “In the meantime,” you begin with a soft sigh, “what can I get you?”

“Coffee, black,” she responds flatly. “And some sweetbread. Please.”

“Will do. What’s your name?”

“Roman.”

Your eyes widen slightly, your lips curling in a smile once again at the name. “Oh?” you wonder, leaning onto the counter with crossed arms as you give her a curious look. “As in the great huntress, Roman?”

She smiles, laughing lightly as she glances down at the table and then back up to you. “I’d be a great huntress, even if I weren’t her, little mage.”

You narrow your eyes playfully, straightening your spine again. “Oh, I’m sure,” you shake your head with a light chuckle, chewing on your bottom lip in thought. “I’ll get that sweetbread right to you, your greatness.” You do a silly bow, just for the dramatics, before turning to get her request. She chuckles and nods toward your antics.

It does not take long for you to return with her plain coffee and bread. You set it down in front of her before she’s slipping her shiny coins across the counter. You take it and slip it into the pocket of your apron with a small thanks.

“Will you be coming round again?” you ask, finding yourself hoping a little too much that her answer is yes. You think she senses this as she sends you a sly smirk, bringing her cup to her lips to take a sip of the hot liquid. She takes her sweet time about it, too.

“Maybe,” is all she replies with.

You raise a brow at her and tap your fingers on the wood before giving her a gentle goodbye as you hear the bell over the door ringing again. “I’m looking forward to it. Good hunting.”

~

Night comes and the tavern is filled to the brim with patrons. There are the ones who come every night for the drinks and the folk songs. There are the town bards—the Moselyn Twins—who collect coins for their good music. There happens to be a birthday, front and center and the attention celebration—though the special attention happens to be placed on the cake you had been asked to bake for the occasion.

Another ring of the bell alerts you to another customer. You smile toward the door as you separate from the pair you had been talking to beforehand.

At first, all you see is a single customer walking by themselves against the advisory. Then, you realize that it's the scary wendigo-hunting redhead who came by that morning, still clad in armor with her hair in its braided bun. She has been walking around town since she arrived, questioning the people about anything strange or suspicious. She's staying at the inn, the small building with a few decent sized rooms. The village doesn't get many passersby, and whoever comes through is usually friends or family visiting, but they stay with the person they were visiting.

Roman looks around the tavern, unimpressed and almost annoyed by the amount of people here. She makes her way toward the bar, ignoring the curious glances she receives. Everyone in town has heard by now about the huntress, especially the one said to be one of the world's greatest. They mean well, but prying eyes are prying eyes.

Roman comes to a stop in front of you, unamused by your large grin. She set her hand on the table, still gloved in black leather. “Didn't I say something about a curfew?" she asks, tilting her head.

You mirror her, raising your brows as you get ready to speak. “Technically,” you begin with a shrug, “they're all inside and in packs. Nothing to worry about. And, besides, this is probably the safest place in the entire village.”

After a moment, she finally breaks and lets a small laugh escape her. She shakes her head, sitting down on the stool. “I heard there's only one pub in town,” she says, removing her gloves and dropping them on the counter.

You instinctively pick them up, feeling the material as you answer her with a nod, your fingers running over the knuckles, “It's mostly a bakery during the day, becomes a pub at night. It's a small place, no space for a bakery and a pub."

“I see," she smiles.

You set the gloves back down and grab a cup from under the bar and set it down. “What would you like?"

“Rum."

You scoff, grabbing a pitcher from behind you and beginning to pour her cup. “That's boring, but alright," you mutter.

“Boring?" she questions.

“Yeah." You lean over the counter, tilting your head at her. You slide the cup over, raising a playful brow with a silent challenge. “Boring."

She takes the cup, drawing a long sip from it and considering your words. She sets it down, licking her lips. She nods her head toward you, “What would you get?"

You shrug, “It's off menu and expensive. I brew it myself."

She chuckles again and you watch her tongue dart out to wet her bottom lip once more before her teeth sink into it for just a moment. When she pulls it free, it flushes with blood as her lips move to form words. “I've got money," she says, “And bravery. You tryna poison me?"

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you turn to find the bottle sitting along the shelves behind you. You pick it out. “You wish," you shake your head. “That would mean I actually thought you were dangerous."

She raises a brow, intrigued, “You don't?"

You set the heavy bottle on the counter with a loud clunk. The purple liquid sloshes around, lapping at the insides of the glass as you look up to the ceiling to think about your response. “I think," you look at her, “you do dangerous things."

She shifts her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. “Don't dangerous things create dangerous people?"

You shake your head, pulling the cork from the bottle with a forceful tug. “Dangerous things create dangerous lives. But not all people in those lives become dangerous people,” you explain, grabbing another cup from under the bar.

She watches you pour the dark liquor into the cup with a hum. When you pass it to her, she takes it and examines it first. She brings it to her nose, sniffs the aroma she has trouble distinguishing. She takes a tentative sip, considers it, then takes another. She sets the cup down with a hum.

You raise a brow.

She nods. “Spicy," she comments. Her brows furrow, “but also fruity?"

You smile at her observation, taking the neck of the bottle and leaning the lip toward your nose. You take a whiff of it, “I use many spices for the flavor—ginger, cinnamon—and I don't use sweeter fruits to keep the…fire."

She takes another sip, savoring it for a moment before she nods once more. “It's good."

Your smile is more than proud, almost cocky as you enjoy the swell of accomplishment in your chest. “I know."

She raises her brows, “Do you?"

You nod definitely. “I'm very confident in my brewery skills."

“I can see," she replies, chuckling into her cup.

You decide to pour yourself your own cup, taking a stool hidden under the bar to sit down in front of her. You make yourself comfortable under the scrutinizing gaze of Roman, the way she watches you every move, as if she’s expecting you to jump out and try to attack her, catch her off guard with some sudden attack that you’re sure she could easily counter.

“So,” you sigh after taking your first sip, “have you found the wendigo?”

She shakes her head, “They only hunt at night, near impossible to find during the day.” She shrugs, “Besides, if I had, I would be gone already.”

You tilt your head, “All business, no pleasure?” You lean forward a little, just enough to be clouded by her strong scent once more.

“My business is my pleasure.” She answers you with a smirk, allowing herself to relax as she leans forward into your space, as well.

Your body shifts when you chuckle, “Boring.”

“So I’m still boring.” She doesn’t say it as a question, she just points it out with a sigh meant to feign disappointment.

You nod at her, fighting the urge to reach out and gently shove her shoulder just for the chance to finally make physical contact with her, even if your hand would only meet leather and cloth. “There’s always room for pleasure outside of business, huntress.”

She raises a brow, “Is there?”

“Of course.”

She leans impossibly close, still not touching you. You can feel her breath over your face as the look that flashes across her face is complete charm. “And what pleasure would you suggest, omega?”

You still, frozen in place by the word she’d decided to use. You stare at her, your brain a fuzzy mess to sort through as you catch up to yourself. She knows all too well what she’s doing if the look in her eyes is anything to go by.

You recover quickly, shaking off the shock as you straighten up again in your stool. “Come by my home at first light, the cottage near to the trees and the old barn,” you say. She’s nearly surprised by your words, your tone, but she’s good at hiding it. “I can show you myself,” you offer a small smirk.

She tilts her head to one side, raising a brow as the curl of her lip deepens. “Oh?” her raspy voice, still quiet and challenging, beckons you.

“Yes,” you nod.

She narrows her eyes, feigned suspicion at your offer. “Is it some trick?” She leans forward. “Will you spell me and use me as a sacrifice for your dark sorcery?”

You take your cup and swirl it a couple of times, considering it. “Would that scare you?” you finally ask after a long pause, taking a drink from your cup.

She leans back again, watching you head on. “You want to scare me?”

You shake your head, setting your cup down and feeling the spice burn down your throat in that pleasant way. You sigh, looking back at her. “I want to prove you’re not dangerous.”

Roman’s lips part, and the look in her eyes shifts from that confident, charming gaze into an intrigued expression that comes from finding a new, peculiar puzzle to solve. Her face relaxes a split second after the look appears, and she is once again a mask of stony wile.

“Good luck,” she simply says. She picks up her cup and swings her head back, downing the rest of her drink with an ease that nearly astounds you. She slams her cup down on the counter, looking you dead in the eye and holding the contact.

You pick up your own cup and do the same, setting your cup down with a clutter as the liquor burns down your throat like a blazing fire. She just smiles at you, reaching in a pocket and grabbing a small pouch as she leaves behind a few coins for you.

She retrieves her gloves, slips them back onto her hands, and winks at you. “First light,” she confirms. Then she turns on her heel and leaves without sparing you an over-the-shoulder glance.

You don’t allow yourself to melt into a flustered mess when she’s out of sight. Instead, you pick up the cups and wipe off the counters as you calm your beating heart.

~

The huntress observes the cottage before taking another step toward it. It’s decently sized, fitting for the small village you live in. Made of dark wood, parts of it are overgrown with moss and vines and leaves. Flowers bloom from some parts of the growth, along the vines that curl around the poles holding up the roof to the porch.

It’s still hardly dawn, but the sun has made first light and the world is beginning to awaken once more. She can see the flickers of candles through the windows, emitting a golden light foreshadowing the warmth that awaits inside.

She approaches the home, taking in the bushes practically surrounding it with different herbs or flowers. Stepping onto the porch, she raises her fist and raps on the door with a few resounding knocks.

She doesn’t hear the voice coming from inside, turning her head in the direction of the sound that says, “Around back.”

Roman steps off the porch and walks along the side, then a little more toward the back where the eastern side of the house faces the forest. There you are, sitting on the stool out in the grass, bathing in whatever light of the golden sun seeps through the forest trees. You look surreal like this, carving into some wood held firmly in your hand. Taking a few steps closer, she can see you carving a bird. It looks like you’re almost finished.

You don’t look at her as you speak, instead tilting your head to the side with a smile set into your lips. “You came.”

She nods, “I did.”

You bring the carving to your face, blowing away from scraping. Roman watches them fly through the air before descending in a gentle rain to the forest ground. You finish up the last touches of your bird before standing. “Give me a moment, and we can get started.”

You walk onto the back porch, grabbing some twine from a little table and looping it through the hoop on the bird’s back. Then you hang it up to the roof to join the other carvings, an array of birds and windchimes.

When you finally look at her, you take in the sight. She’s still in her armor, but it is no longer as layered as it had been before with all that leather and metal and cloth. Instead, she’s wearing her long, dark robes and thick leather. The only metal she’s wearing now is the breastplate that protects her chest.

You can see the designs a little clearer, now that it isn’t shrouded by extra layers of protection. They're like tendrils marked along the armor, they’re like webs. In the middle of the breastplate is an hourglass, the warning of the black widow and its deadly bite.

You open the back door and step into the house, making your way through to the front door, which you lock after setting out your busy sign to let everyone know you would be gone and grabbing your own cloak. You grab your courier and step back outside here Roman is waiting for you.

Her back is turned toward you as she faces the mouth of the forest. You can see her cloak a lot better, decorated with silvery spider webs that you can see glint slightly in the morning light. She’s still got her sword thrown over her back in its harness, which matches the web pattern of her cloak. She turns when she hears the door close.

“Let’s go,” you announce with a smile, walking off of the porch and passing her.

“Where?”

You look over your shoulder, chuckling as you motion for her to come. “Just follow me,” you tell her. She hesitates for a moment, and you roll your eyes, walking back and grasping her hand tight to pull her with you toward the trees.

She walks, but only because your grip is tight. “You shouldn’t go in there,” she begins to argue, entirely unamused as her voice laces with a warning. If you didn’t know better, you would say she was worried.

You shake your head, continuing to drag her. “You said the wendigo only hunts at night, and I have magic. We’ll be fine.”

She sighs, another warning waiting on her tongue. “Witch–”

“Come on!” you urge, tugging on her arm until she walks more willingly with you. She watches your insistence turn to glee when she finally relents and walks by you into the forest that engulfs you in trees and wonderful growth.

You start your trek, climbing over logs and patches of plants you would never step on. There's a familiar path you follow as Roman walks cautiously behind you. At first, her gaze was fixated on you and any slight noise that threatened to disrupt the eerie peace of the forest.

But then, she is drawn in by the serenity surrounding her. The gentle calls of birds in the trees, the ordinary and the unusual plants that pass by her, the signs of life translated through desire paths and nests and little footprints entice her.

You both walk for a while, just looking around at everything. You stop and show her different plants, educating her on some things and allowing her to educate you on others. You stop by your usual destinations, nests you’ve helped build, animals who have begun to recognize and accept your presence. At some point, you stop to snack by the river, where you collect some more water on the way, using your magic to filter it.

She helps you collect some of the plants you’ve been needing to restock on, herbs and spices for both your home and the tavern. You tell her stories about the town and the people who reside in it. She listens carefully and seems to take interest in the slightly mundane lifestyle of your little village.

You manage to coax a couple of stories out of her. She tells you about some of her previous hunts, about her closest friend who sometimes hunts with her. She tells you about some of her friends who live all over, friends who she’s supposed to meet at a get-together after the next full moon. There is a captain who serves on the king’s order, a war hero. There is an associate of the king, who happens to have made a few of the weaponry Roman carries with her. She promises to convince him to make a dagger for you the next time she sees him. You watch as she smiles a little more while talking about them, especially when she mentions her sister, also a well-known huntress.

Most of these people happen to be names you’ve heard of, well-known people who you’d have to pay a lot of money to be in the same room as. To know that she has such connections is astounding to you, and you enjoy listening her talk about it—even if it does make your humble story about how one of the farmers’ troublesome twins let all the pigs out of the stables and made the whole village spend the day trying to round them up seem boring.

You catch her off guard when you grab her hand, pulling her down as you kneel in front of a patch of flowers with a quiet, “Come here." The arrangement feels specific to her as she takes in the sight of these rose-like plants. The petals are iridescent, a mixture of black and red and purple with long dark stems and leaves that are bigger than the flower itself.

Roman reaches out and strokes a dark leaf, tilting her head to examine it. “Hapelite?" she wonders, glancing at you with furrowed brows. Hapelite was a magical drug, often sold in shady taverns or brothels.

She watches your face shift, annoyance etching itself into your expression as you sigh gently. You take a flower into your hand, petting its soft petals and stroking its leaves.

“Its actual names are Joy's Flutter or Healer's Root," you tell her with the roll of your eyes. “The name was changed when some charlatan smoked its roots and started using it for ecstasy."

You grab your bag, opening it to pull out a pair of scissors and a tiny shovel that looks more like a teaspoon. They're all too specific as the blades slant downwards toward the middle. You position the scissors near the bottom of the plant and cut the stem in a long angle. With the shovel, you carefully dig around the bottom of the stem to uproot the rest of the flower without disturbing the actual roots.

You do it with a skill that leaves Roman mesmerized. She watches as you take the flower in your hand and carefully open the bud just enough to reveal some of the pistil. Gently shaking it, some of the pollen hidden inside showers back to the ground where you'd just pulled the roots.

You present the flower and the root to her. "You take a petal—the darker, the better—and set it on your tongue like this." Picking out the darkest petal, you hold it up to Roman. She considers for a moment before opening her mouth, giving you space to set the petal on her tongue. Gooseflesh rises upon her skin when your fingertips brush the bottom of her jaw, easing it closed with steady hands. She's nearly embarrassed that she almost leans into your gentle touch.

"Just like that," you whisper, watching her gaze back at your face as she sits still, not daring to move a finger for fear of breaking the moment between you. Your eyes scan her face in silence for a little longer than you mean to, relishing the sounds of the forest and the privilege of being so close to her face.

After a moment, you see Roman's eyes flutter. Her jaw ticks as a long sigh passes through her nose. You smile a little, watching her face shift as the petal melts on her tongue.

When you speak again, your voice is just as soft. “Joy's Flutter is what it's called when you're using it as a…a sort of stimulant. Its petals hold chemicals in it that help to generate feelings of happiness."

You linger there for a moment as she opens her green eyes again, and you watch the jade green you'd delved into too many times shift into a darker green that matches the color of the stem and its leaves.

You lick your lips and regretfully pull away, holding up the root end of the second half of the stem. “When a person is injured, the root and the petals together help to soothe the pain. It doesn't numb like most herbs, and it staves infection."

You grab two boxes from your bag next, a bag that Roman is beginning to realize is enchanted, and set the root and the flower in different ones to keep them separated. “The root itself, which is then used as hapelite, is too potent. That hinders the senses, from obscured mental states to complete temporary paralysis and numbness.

“This flower is not naturally addictive, but it can become addictive to certain mental and emotional states: people with depression, nymphomaniacs, states of being that cause a person to desperately need a sense of joy or pleasure."

After your explanations, you retrieve your tools and begin cutting more of the plants to add to your boxes with deft hands. "Are they addictive to you?" Roman teases, raising a brow as she licks her lips, tasting the last specks of the petal on her tongue after it has dissolved.

You shake your head with a chuckle, “No. I'm fulfilled enough."

She echoes your laugh before standing again to examine the rest of the area out of curiosity more than the need to be hyper aware of her surroundings. She finds that she trusts your instincts of the forest.

“Did you grow them?"

You shake your head, almost laughing in response to her inquiry. “No. It takes years and years of mastery before you can successfully grow these. I'm not quite there yet," you explain. “But they do grow in the wild in places like these, but only for a number of days after very specific sequences of events."

“What kind of events?"

You think for a moment. “Lunar Rain–"

“Lunar Rain?"

“Witch speak. It's just rain that comes during or after a full moon. It moisturizes the soil with natural magic. The soil also needs to be sprinkled with the pollen from the flower beforehand into the ground in place of seeds. If it begins to sprout, it has to be nurtured with a drop of joyful tears every other day.

“That's not even half of it. It requires so much maintenance, constant tending to. And it takes at least a month before it even begins to sprout, so you don't know if it's even growing or if you're just treating the ground like royalty. I don't have the time or the skill for it yet."

She chuckles lightly once more as you finish up. You leave plenty of flowers behind—you hadn't even taken half of the plentiful supply—as you pack your things back up and put them in your bag.

You give a final sigh and smile. “Come on." You start to walk off with Roman in tow before she's finally walking beside you again.

“This is your idea of pleasure?" she asks, her voice teasing.

“What were you expecting?" You look at her with a raised brow, holding a smirk. You chance a step forward into her space for half a moment just to whisper your suggestion in her ear before putting a little more space between you once more. “Sex?"

She laughs, "The thought had crossed my mind."

You join her laughter, shaking your head before you speak again. “There are more pleasures in this world than just sex," you tell her, watching the ground under your feet as you step over twigs and trails of pawprints. “I'm a witch. I'm drawn to nature." You look at her, “You're a hunter…you should be, too."

Her eyes lock onto yours, staring for a moment. You watch her lip curl into a smile before she's walking again, taking off like she's in pursuit.

“Where are you going?" you pick up the pace, struggling to keep up with her now as she darts away with ease.

“Follow me," she simply instructs, going back to snatch up your hand when you struggle to do so. She pulls you with her, her eyes trained on the ground and the trees around you as she follows something. What? You have no idea.

Her eyes scan the ground. She kneels a couple of times to feel the ground, feeling the dirt and grass under her fingertips and rubbing them together. She turns to some trees and lays her hand against the bark with closed eyes.

Her focus is sharp, her face etched in hard concentration. She never lets your hand go for a second, keeping you in a vice grip that you remain constantly aware of.

Eventually, you both step out into a meadow, full of green grass and wild flowers of all sorts of colors. She let go of your hand then, and you hate to admit that you miss the warmth of her touch. She walks farther into the small field and crouches low to the ground, removing her black gloves and slipping them into a pocket. Her eyes are trained on something you cannot see, but you can feel it. A shift in the air, a specific type of twinkle lingers in your bones.

She holds her hand out in front of her, her palm facing away. Then she makes a clicking noise, slow and soft. It resounds gently around the meadow as you tilt your head curiously.

Then, out of the trees, you watch a horse emerge from the brush. It’s tall, slightly taller than a regular horse. The horse’s copper coat is nearly as red as Roman’s hair, except its mane is almost white as it forms a curtain along its neck. It’s slow, taking cautious steps toward the huntress who beckons it.

When it eventually approaches Roman, who moves slowly and surely to get to her feet, she sets her hand atop its muzzle. She lingers there for a moment, allowing the creature to beckon familiar first before she gently strokes it there. She turns back to you, offering a small smile as she watches you stare at the creature with wondrous enchantment in your gaze.

“Come here,” she beckons you as softly as she had the horse. You obey with tentative steps until you're standing next to her. She pulls you in front of her, grabbing her hand once more in her own. You hold your breath at the closeness, the way she presses her body against yours and guides you carefully. “Set your hand here,” she directs quietly.

She sets your hand on the muzzle like she had done before, and your breath hitches at the feeling of this creature’s magic. You wonder if she can feel it like you can, pure and ethereal.

Roman’s lips are right next to your ear as she speaks, still whispering in that raspy tone of hers. “This is a sylvequi,” she begins. “They’re very rare, but they usually only appear in forests that are capable of growing Joy’s Flutter; it’s a source of food for them.”

She slowly guides your hand to stroke the horse’s muzzle, taking the opportunity to breathe in your scent. It swirls around her, invades her senses in the most wonderful way. “Unicorns aren’t real, but they’re inspired by these beautiful mares. They grant wishes to people they feel deserve them. They only have three to give. Once the last wish is used, they give birth to a new sylvequi. Then they lose their magical ability and begin to age, and eventually they die.”

You gaze at the creature, your mind clouded by Roman’s intoxicating scent and the horse’s magic. So many things going on at one time—it felt—makes your head spin a little. You breathe a gentle sigh, “She’s beautiful.”

Roman nods over your shoulder, “Yeah, she is.” Her hand releases yours to shift some of the horse’s mane from her face, allowing you a clearer view of her face. Under its left eye, you could see two little markings, like dark dots lining the under eye. “She’s already given a wish.”

You continue to pet her, giggling a little when she takes a step closer to you, pushing her muzzle against you in the process. Roman gazes at the horse, looking her in the eye as if they were communicating. Then she leaves you, and, once again, you miss her warmth. She slowly walks to the side, placing a hand on her back and patting her a couple of times before she skillfully mounts her with ease.

You look at her as she holds her hand out to you. “She’s all ready to go,” she said.

You offer a gentle smile to the horse before walking over to Roman, taking her offered hand and allowing her to help you mount the horse as well. You get on behind her, wrapping your arms securely around her waist to ensure you don't slide off.

Roman strokes her hand along the back of the horse’s neck, easing her with little shushes before she clicks her tongue after taking a hold of her mane. She begins walking, taking a few cautious steps before she’s found a steady pace to stroll at.

“Have you ever made a wish?” you wonder, leaning your chin on her shoulder. You’re smiling at her, almost teasing as you bob your brows.

She glances back at you with her own smile before shaking her head. “I’ve never been worthy,” she confesses. Then she shrugs the shoulder you aren’t leaning on and hums, “Granted, I’ve never asked.”

You hum as well, leaning forward a little more as her body easily supports you. The sylvequi’s head bobs as she huffs and gives a little prance. Roman chuckles before her hand lands on yours clasped on her belly. “Hold on tight.”

“Why–” Before you can get the words out, she breaks into a sprint. Wind whips past you as she starts out fast, building in speed to race through the forest in a delightful run. Your arms tighten around Roman, almost constrictive in order to make sure you aren’t thrown off. She’s fast, way faster than any horse you’d ever seen.

The pace is exhilarating, pulling excited laughter from you as you relish in the amusement of the ride. Roman glances at you over her shoulder, more than pleased by your pleasure. The sylvequi continues her sprint, the steady clop, clop of her hooves against the forest ground creating the perfect ambiance.

A fair amount of time passes before she begins to slow, reducing her speed to a gentle trot once more to carry you more through the vast forest. Roman’s scent wafts around you, filling your brain and clouding it indefinitely. It’s harder to focus now that it’s so strong, and you lean against her in an attempt to indulge in it.

She glances at you, gently patting your hands still wrapped around her. “You okay back there, little mage?” she asks, her eyes flitting over your calm face.

You nod, mutter your response with closed eyes as a twinge of fatigue begins to set in. “Fine.” She chuckles gently, shaking her head as she and the sylvequi enjoy the peace and quiet of the forest.

By the time you’re roused by Roman, you have no idea how long it’s been. You sit up, taking in a deep breath as you look at her. “Come on. We’ll get off here,” she says. “We have about an hour before it’ll start getting dark.”

She swings her leg over the side and lands gracefully on her feet, offering her hand to you so she can help you down. You stretch when you’re standing again as Roman lays her hand on the horse’s muzzle again. “Thanks for the ride,” she mumbles, stepping away.

You reach into your bag and pull out one of the boxes from before, taking a hold of a flower bud from your pick of Joy’s Flutter. You offer it to her, and she gladly feeds from your hand with a gentle huff. As she finishes, you stroke down her muzzle once more before joining Roman’s side.

She considers you both for a moment before she turns and leaves you be, back to her own business in the deep forest. When she’s out of sight, you take a look around to see where you were. Once you recognize the familiar area, you start walking until you reach the river that leads into town.

You stop, kneeling down as you pull off your bag. “What are you doing?” Roman asks, stopping next to you.

“We should eat here before we get back. We’ve got plenty of time. It’s a twenty minute’s walk from here,” you tell her, pulling a blanket out of your bag and laying it flat. You look up at her expectantly. “Well?”

She considers it for a moment before granting you a sigh and sitting down in front of you, setting her sword down next to her. You smile, pulling out two wrapped up sandwiches you had prepared beforehand, along with a couple of apples and a leather pouch carrying some fresh water. You offer her the food you’d packed, and she accepts.

You both sit and eat and enjoy the other’s company, perfectly content with the stillness of the trees around you. It’s calm, comfortable. You dare to think it’s perfect. You could easily see yourself doing this again, with her. How perfect it would be to spend your life like this. With her.

Roman doesn’t let you stay there long, though. After you’ve finished eating, she stands and helps you gather everything to put back in your enchanted bag. She retrieves her sword once more, securing it around her back. You start the trek back.

You could already feel the change in the forest as the sun begins to make its descent. You’re roughly ten minutes from the village when the sun finally disappears. The moon is bright tonight, a waxing quarter that grants enough light for you to see as you make your way through the wood.

You come to an abrupt halt when Roman holds her hand out in front of you, stilling completely. “Wait,” she orders, looking around her darkened surroundings with a vigilance that impresses you.

“What?”

“Shh.”

“I–”

Her gloved hand clasps over your mouth, keeping you silent as she tries to listen. You sigh, rolling your eyes as you look around as well. You hear the sound of a snapping twig, rustling in the leaves around you. You swear you hear the faintest giggles of strange creatures and tilt your head curiously.

Roman’s voice is a whisper when she speaks again, her face a cold mask as she reaches behind her and draws her sword slowly. “Get behind me,” she says. There’s no room for argument, but that doesn’t stop you.

“I can protect myself,” you whisper back.

“Now.”

She growls the word, turning to you with hard eyes and bared teeth. Your argument dissolves into compliance as you do as you’re told, tucking yourself behind her as she uses her body as a shield from whatever was surrounding you.

You both listen to the sounds of a disturbed forest as the tension rises. Then, out of the brush, small little creatures start crawling out of the bushes on four legs. They’re small, just about at the level of your knees. It starts out as just a few—maybe three or four—before it starts growing in numbers closer to ten or fifteen. It looks like a possum, with big beady eyes and long muzzles that almost look like beaks. For a moment, you think it’s cute, harmless.

But then you realize what they are.

You hold your breath, opening one hand and thinking of the first offensive spell that comes to mind as you watch the boggarts begin to change. Their beak-like noses become sharp as their teeth turn to fangs. The reflective pupils of their eyes turn to slants of hideous eyes full of malicious intent. Its paws become sharp claws meant for ripping flesh as its tail grows into a snake-like limb. As if that wasn’t bad enough, you watch them grow, from the height of your knee to the height of your waist. What was once almost cute was now a monstrous creature ready to kill.

“Oh, shit.”

They charge. Roman swings her sword just as you chant an ancient word that sends one of the ugly creatures flying away. They chatter with horrible snarls as they wrap around your feet and try to trip, attempting to get their jaws around you to break the skin.

You’re holding them off well enough as Roman defends. She moves swiftly, bringing her sword down on these creatures with ease as it slices and cuts and rips these creatures apart. They continue charging for her, the bigger threat who needs to be put down. It doesn’t deter her. She deals with them with ease until they’re all dead at her feet.

Roman’s breath is heavy as she holds her sword out, straightening up once more and turning to you. She wraps an arm around your body to bring you close, looking over you with more concern than you initially expected.

“Are you alright?” she asks quickly.

You nod, “Yeah. A couple scratches, but I’m fine.” She takes in your response with a relieved sigh and a nod. Once you know she’s accepted your answer, you begin to walk away to get back to the village. You’ve barely taken a step before she’s stopped you again.

“No, wait,” she says. “There’s always a mother.”

You look past her as you catch onto something, your eyes widening at the beast stepping out of the trees. It’s huge, nearly Roman’s height with bared teeth and soulless eyes. You take a step back, “I think I found her.”

She turns around and raises her sword again as the beast of a creature charges at her. She doesn’t risk it, pushing you back to get you away from the fight. You stumble a little, catching yourself on the ground as you watch her defend you.

The way she fights is almost like a dance. Despite everything, she’s swift and ruthless, as lethal as the sword and as strong as the thumping of your beating heart.

It’s hard to keep up with it, everything is moving too fast for you to comprehend. All you know is that you eventually hear the sickening sound of Roman driving her sword into the heart of the boggart with a loud grunt.

She lingers there for a moment, catching her breath before she’s twisting the blade for good measure. She steps away, unsheathing her sword from the mother and wiping the blood onto the fur and scales of the lifeless beast. Returning the sword to its sheath, she turns to you with heavy breath and holds out her hand. You grab it as she helps you up.

Her gaze is dark, and she’s got blood on her clothes now. When she lets go of your hand, you can feel the sticky crimson liquid on your fingers. You wipe yourself down, finding her gaze still trained intensely on you as she takes a step into your space. She’s so close to you now, peering at you with eyes dark as the night sky. When she speaks, her voice is rough and still heavy with breathlessness.

“Still think I’m not dangerous?”

You don’t respond, caught up in the look she’s giving you as it renders you speechless. Your mind is muddled again as she puts her hand on the waist and guides you with her as she continues walking back to the village.

When you break through the trees and find yourself in the backyard of your cottage, you’ve come back to your senses. You turn back to her and chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully. “Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine,” she says. “Go home. I’ve got a wendigo to hunt.”

You grant her a concerned look, frowning deeply at her words. “Shouldn’t you rest first?”

She shakes her head again, giving you a half-hearted smile in an attempt to ease your nerves. “I’ll be fine.” She pulls you closer to the house, bringing you up the back porch and stopping at the door. “Go inside, stay inside. Have some tea or read a book or something. Relax.”

You sigh, still refusing to give in so easily as you worry about her well-being out there alone. “I can help you against the wendigo,” you offer. “I’m not helpless.”

She sighs gently, her smile coming a little more genuinely as she cups your face. Her eyes gaze into yours, and you find your focus wavering for a split second. “That’s very sweet,” she mutters. “But I’d feel better if you were here,” she drops her hands from your face and takes a step back, “where it’s safe in your spell protected home.”

You huff out a frustrated breath. “Roman, I–”

“My name is Natasha,” she interrupts, tilting her head. “Roman is my last name, Romanoff.”

You fall silent, taking in her confession. You look back at her, taking in the way she looks back at you. Her eyes are filled with a strange kind of concern, a tenderness you would have least expected coming from a self-proclaimed dangerous huntress who just killed an entire pack of boggart and is now going after a flesh-eating wendigo.

You consider her for a moment and let out a regretful sigh as you shake your head. “Okay,” you mumble. “I’ll stay here.”

She smiles, grabbing your hands, just to feel them. “Thank you.”

“If.”

“Oh, gods,” she rolls her eyes.

“If you take this with you.” You step away from her, turning around to open your door to go inside. She stands there with a sigh and waits until you reemerge with what looks like a bracelet. It’s a stone wrapped in twine, purple and dull but with a simple kind of beauty.

You step behind her, tying the stone at the base of her braid to make sure it’s secure. “It’s a protection charm,” you tell her, stepping back into view.

She reaches back to feel the rock under her fingertips before looking back at you with a gratitude that makes your chest swell. “Thank you.”

She lingers for a moment, watching you like she’s mapping out your face, like she’s preparing in case that she doesn’t come back. Then she turns around and begins to walk away. She’s only just stepped off the porch when you call to her.

“Natasha.”

She turns, “Yeah?”

You bite your lip before you blurt out a response. “Don’t die.”

She flashes you a smile, a huge smirk that has confidence written all over it. She winks at you with a promise you intend to hold her to.

“I won’t.”

~

You jolt awake when a repetitive pound thunders through the cottage. You move into autopilot instantly, not wasting any time in waking up as you reach for the dagger under your pillow. Unsheathing it, you bolt out of bed and head for the back door with swift, silent feet.

You set your hand on the doorknob and hold your breath before swinging it open with your brandished dagger. A wave of relief washes over you for just a moment when you see Roman—Natasha—on the other side of the door.

You let out a breath, taking in the sight of her. “Natasha?" you whisper. She's fully armored again, her hair is slightly disheveled. Then you notice the blood, and your relief washes away in sharp vigilance. She's hunched over, holding her side with a blood-stained face. Then you notice the awful tear in her armor along her arm.

She tries to offer a smile. “Do you have nillow weed?"

You step out and tuck yourself into her side, supporting some of her body weight with your arm held under her. “Come in, come in," you urge, helping her inside the house as you close the door behind you.

You ease her down onto the sofa before bounding toward your kitchen. You ruffle through the cabinets, grabbing a selection of herbs and potions that you bring back to the small living room. You drop them onto the table, kneeling down and snatching up the pestle and mortar already sitting on there.

“What part of ‘don't die' did you not understand?" you mutter under your breath, shaking your head and letting out a heavy sigh as you start measuring the herbs into the bowl.

“Technically," she begins, trying to sit up with a painful groan, “I didn't die."

“Technically," you bite back, looking up at her in the middle of crushing the mixture together, “this could kill you." You motion to her arm with your pestle.

You start adding the oils into the mixture to form a paste as she chuckles roughly. You shake your head, setting your tools down and wiping your hands together.

“Greatest huntress, my ass," you grumble. You sidle next to her on the sofa, painstakingly removing her armor, layer by layer, until she's only covered by a thin shirt, its sleeve in rags.

You have to cut the sleeve off of the shirt, peeling away the fabric as she bares her teeth with a quiet hiss. “I never actually called myself the greatest huntress,” she says, looking back at you with a strained smile. You dart your eyes to her face and hide your smile as you shake your head yet again at her idiocy. She’s smiling at you, sweat and blood sticking to her face. “Even still, the wendigo is dead.”

You look away from her, standing to go get a water bowl, adding some water to boil on the way. As you come back, you sit next to her again. “I’m very proud of you,” you respond, dabbing the rag in the water and carefully cleaning off her wound. She winces again, and you whisper an apology.

You stand after you’ve finished, walking over to the fireplace, where you’ve set the wooden boxes from before on the ledge. You open the box and offer the flower to her. She shakes her head. “Are you sure?” you question, your expression tainted by worry. She nods, giving you another tight smile. You sigh and put it away.

You sit next to her once more after grabbing your stitching equipment. “That’s my only pain reliever so…brace yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” she promises.

You bob your brows, “Okay…” You thread your needle and get to work as you begin stitching up the deep cut made by jagged claws. You see her fist clench, but she gives no other sign of pain as she looks away from you. When you tie off the thread, you wipe it down once more before applying the paste to her arm, laying it on thick to ensure it’s properly administered.

You finish by wrapping her arm in thick, white fabric, pulling it taut. Natasha watches you disappear into the kitchen. When you come back, there’s a cup in your hand giving off a gentle steam. You kneel in front of her, ignoring the way she now sits taller than you as you rest your hand on her lap. You give her the cup, “Drink this.”

She does without question. She trusts you entirely, and that warms your heart. She hands the cup back to you, and you set it on the table behind you. She stares at you, watching you examine her face, her arm, her. She does the same to you.

You notice the way her eyes begin to droop and stand again, easing her down to lay on the sofa, her cheek resting against the soft pillow you set under her head. “Lay back,” you whisper. “Sleep.”

She looks up at you with droopy eyes and you hold your breath. You watch her fade into sleep, her body falling limp on the sheets. You brush some hair off her forehead, your eyes flicking over her face again with a gentle sigh.

“I’ve got you, Alpha.”

You take a seat on a chair and allow your mind to slow down. Now that you know that Natasha is safe and okay, you can breathe, relax. As you plop down on your cushy seat, you let out a long sigh and run a hand over your face.

It’s then that you start becoming aware of everything other than the bleeding out huntress at your door. Like your sheer nightgown now stained with blood, or your bare feet on the dark wood floors, or the fact that it’s past midnight and the fireplace is beginning to die out from your earlier burning. You stand and begin tidying everything back up. You put away the stitches, your herbs and oils, slowly cleaning the now cluttered living room.

Once you’ve cleaned up enough, you get a fresh cloth and some water to begin wiping down her face, cleaning up the blood and sweat clinging to her skin to reveal rosy cheeks and soft skin. You admire her for a little too long. Then you scoop her up into your arms and carry her into the bedroom, placing her atop the bed and easing the covers over her body. Again, you brush some hair out of her face and linger there for a moment, admiring the gentle part of her lips, the peaceful innocence of her face as she rests. She really is beautiful.

You whisper one last spell over her before sitting down on the chair near the bed. You set a blanket over your body and allow yourself to fall into peaceful rest next to her.

~

Natasha is eased awake by the gentle chimes of the wood carvings hanging from the porch roof outside. She opens her eyes with a deep sigh, blinking the sleep away as she slowly sits up. A dull ache in her arm has her shifting her attention to the white bandages securely wrapped around her. She looks at it, running her fingertips over the fabric as the events of last night return to her.

It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as she expected it to, now that she thinks about it. Before she can continue examining her healing wound, she hears gentle breaths at her side. She turns to find you sitting in the chair, a blanket thrown over your body as you sleep soundly.

She smiles softly at the way your head lolls to the side, the way your eyes skip behind your lids as you dream away. As she moves to sit back against the headboard, you stir. She hadn’t even made much noise, besides the near silent ruffle of the sheets at her slight movement.

You take in a deep breath, opening your eyes as you come to. You see her first, a slow, lazy smile spreading over your lips in response. “Hi,” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. “You’re up.”

She nods, “I am.”

You take another breath, shaking your head lightly to help ease you from your rest. You stretch as you speak, “How do you feel?”

Her hand instinctively reaches for her arm, brushing the fabric thoughtfully. “Fine,” she says as you stand, walking over to her and sitting on the side of the bed. “Looks good.”

You offer a smile as you take her arm in your hands, carefully unwrapping the bandages to reveal the wound from last night. The paste is gone, and the wound looks a lot older than it should for one that’s only existed a single night.

“Yeah,” you mutter before looking up at her with a smile. “What usually takes two months should heal in about a week.”

Natasha’s eyes widen in surprise, “A week?”

You smile proudly, chuckling as you shake your head at her reaction. “I’m a really good healer, huntress. And a witch, in case you forgot.” You mumble the last part to yourself, playful and lighthearted.

“I can see that,” she responds. You stand from the bed and disappear into the living room to bring back the same paste from before and some new bandages. You apply it carefully after wiping the stitched up wound down.

“Are you hungry?” you ask gently.

“A little.” She’s starving.

“I’ll stop by the tavern and bring something back.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

You do just that after you finish taking care of her. She watches you too closely as you wrap the white fabric over her arm once more before putting things away again. You rummage through your drawers as you grab some clothes to put on.

Once you are presentable in a simple gown you pulled over your head and tied in the back, you give Natasha a smile and a wave as you leave the house with your basket to get breakfast. You walk down to the tavern, say hello to the waitress who’s in this morning, and then grab some bread, meat, fresh fruits, and tea instead of the coffee she’ll be expecting. On the way back to the cottage, you can smell her strong, heady scent again before you’ve even stepped foot onto your property.

She’s in the living room when you open the door, setting the basket on the table with a smile. “I could smell you before I even got close to the cottage,” you comment instead of greeting her.

She looks up at her with a cocky grin. She’s got her hair down, longer than you expected. It frames her face perfectly in gentle red waves that rest over just her collarbone. “Smell good?” she teases, bobbing her brows suggestively.

You roll your eyes. “You smell like blood and sweat,” you put it bluntly. “You need a bath.”

She laughs heartily, this raspy sound that makes your heart clench. You bite your tongue to keep from revealing the fact that she smells like fresh rain and forest trees (beneath the blood and sweat, of course).

You spend the day inside or out on the back porch. She sits with you as you start a new carving outside, talking about whatever happens to skip across your mind as you chat. Then inside, she helps you with the flowers you’d collected yesterday as you prepare them into their own jars and vials to add to your collection. Everything just feels so normal, sliding into place like that’s how it’s always meant to happen.

It feels so amazing to have company, especially company like Natasha, who will flirt and tease and tell you stories and make you laugh. You almost forget that, soon, she’ll be gone again to the next village to hunt the next beast.

Nightfall comes and you walk into the bathroom, where she’s lounging in the tub full of hot water clouded by different herbs and oils you’ve added that seep into her skin and make her feel wonderful. You have a towel and a fresh pair of clothes in your arms as you walk inside, hyper aware of her eyes following your every move.

You set the things down and sit on the wooden chair next to the tub, taking her arm in your hands. “Your clothes and stuff should be dry in the morning.” You take your pair of scissors and begin removing her stitches carefully. The wound has healed enough, the bathwater and your magic have worked wonders on it.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, her voice low and gentle. You smile at her, moving the old stitches and the scissors away and taking a seat once more. She offers a tight smile, “Your hospitality has been much appreciated.”

A sort of dread fills you at her words, but you try not to show it as you nod. “So you are leaving.”

She nods, almost regretfully. “In the morning,” she confesses, sitting up just a little to keep her body concealed by the cloudy, white water. “It’s time. My job here is done, and I'm needed elsewhere."

You nod slowly, letting out a long sigh. “Okay.”

“Okay?” she’s surprised by how quickly you accept it. She’s almost disappointed.

You shrug. For a moment, she thinks it’s pitiful, limp shoulders rising and falling. “Yeah,” you tell her. “You’re a hunter, it’s your job.” You swallow thickly, ignoring the lump that threatens to rise in your throat. “Who am I to stop you?”

Natasha nods slowly, licking her lips and ignoring the ache in her chest, just as you ignore the one in yours. She sighs, glancing back at you. “You mind if I stay the night?”

You slip out of the chair and onto the floor, kneeling beside the tub and resting your arm along the side. “I’ll have to insist,” you smile, attempting to lighten the mood once more. “I wanna watch that arm.”

She doesn’t miss the way you run your fingers along the surface of the water, making little ripples in the tub. “Thanks,” she mutters, trying to keep her smile intact. You hum, glancing away again in an attempt at keeping the tears at bay. You hate that you’re getting so emotional about it. You’ve known her for three days. Three wonderful, amazing days.

“Hey, there,” she hooks her fingers under your chin, turning your head to look at her again as she offers another gentle grin. “You gonna miss me?”

You chuckle lightly, shrugging a shoulder as you successfully swallow your tears and speak in a level voice. “A little.”

Her smile widens. “I’m gonna miss you, too,” she admits. “A little.”

You both sit there in silence, letting the seconds tick by as you memorize each curve, lash, and dip on the other’s face. Natasha’s smile fades slowly and her lips part. You watch her make the decision as she sighs.

“Come here.” She pulls you forward and envelopes you in a warm kiss. It consumes you, fills you with a fluttering feeling that makes you feel like you’re floating. You lean forward into her, kissing her back with a little more fervor as you savor the taste of her plush lips against your own.

Her hand smooths along your jaw, pulling you closer. A gentle breath escapes you as a moan that slips into her mouth. She shifts her body in the tub to face you as she sits up on her knees. You reach for her, setting your hands on her shoulders to brace yourself, yearning for more.

The kisses become more desperate, stroking hands turning to grasping fingers. Her hand slips under the neckline of your dress, pushing the sleeves off of your shoulders before moving to untie the little bow keeping it up. The dress pulls at your elbows, barely concealing your breasts.

As soon as the word leaves you in a heavy breath, all sense of slow and steady dissolves as the desperation sinks into her skin. “Alpha,” you whisper against her lips, feeling the lust rise within you at the feeling of her hands stroking your bare skin.

“Fuck,” she rasps. “Take this off.” It’s a command you are content with obeying, helping her shed you of your dress to let it fall to the floor with little regard. Her lips trail down along the column of your throat until her head is buried in the crook of your neck. Her teeth scrape along your skin, sucking and biting, intent on marking you up as her hands wander.

You moan against her, pulling her wet body closer. Her hand ducks under your chest, resting above your belly before brushing up just enough to cup your breast. Your mouth falls open and a sigh falls forcefully from your lips. She squeezes, her thumb brushing over your nipple and sending shockwaves along your spine.

You whisper the name again, needier this time. Natasha’s husky voice turns into a growl as she laps at your skin. “Get on the chair,” she orders. Again, you obey. Shifting yourself on the seat, she sits up on her knees, the bottom half of her body still shrouded by the water as she sets her hands on your thigh. Seeing you now, she has the perfect view of your naked body. She marvels at you, her green eyes dark and hooded as she takes in the wonderful sight. “You’re beautiful,” she sighs, pulling you closer so there’s less space between you and her. You flush at her words, biting down on your lip.

She pushes your thighs apart, her nails digging into your flesh. A deep sigh escapes her throat as she looks at you, her thumb pressing into your inner thigh as it inches closer to grab at your outer lip, pulling it a little to reveal more of you to her.

“Oh, she’s fucking soaking, isn’t she?” she comments, running her thumb along your wet folds. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

You don’t have a chance to respond, she’s already burying a long digit inside of you, biting her lip as you immediately clamp down on her finger. You’re so wet, she slips in with ease. Your head falls back as a breathy moan forces itself out of you. “You’re so tight,” she mumbles, leaning forward to press her lips to the inside of your thigh, teasing you.

You try to close your legs, too sensitive to her touch, but she doesn’t let you. She forces them open once more, pressing her fingers deeper. Just as she sees you open your mouth to form words, she cuts you off again with another intrusive finger into your sopping pussy. A choked sound replaces your words.

“Such a good girl,” she whispers, still kissing your thighs, her tongue licking along you to taste your skin. “Bet you want my mouth, don’t you?” You just nod, looking back down at her with heavy breaths as you bite your tongue. She tsks, shaking her head at you. “C’mon, use your words, sweetness.”

“Yes,” you gasp out as she curls her fingers inside of you. “Yes, I want your mouth on me. Please.”

She smiles proudly at you, kissing your thigh again and resting her chin there. “You’re so pretty when you beg,” she teases, leaning forward and pressing her lips against your lower belly.

You mewl, “Please, Alpha.”

She growls again, not intentionally. It slips out, your pleas are so intoxicatingly sweet. “Fuck,” she curses under her breath, letting out a shaky breath at the effect that name falling from your lips has on her. She pulls her fingers out of you, and you whine helplessly.

She puts you out of your misery as she wraps her lips around your dripping cunt, her tongue flattening against your folds as she begins licking you up. Your mouth falls open and the most diabolical sound drips like honey from your tongue. You cave into her, tangling a hand in her hand to pull her closer. She lets you, enjoying the way you grip onto her for dear life.

She laps at your pussy, eager and desperate, like you were the finest wine and she hadn’t drank in days. Her tongue delves inside of you, her lips wrapping around your throbbing clit and suckling gently. The pleasure jolts through your body like fire, and you’re sure you’ll burn up in no time at all if she continues on like this.

She sinks three fingers into you after a while, pumping them in and out as you enjoy the delicious stretch with closed eyes. You try to watch her, trying to enjoy the way her domineering eyes stare up at you like a wolf devouring its prey.

Your grip on her hair tightens as your walls clamp down around her fingers. “Fuck,” you huff. “Tasha, I’m gonna cum.” The words leave your lips in an urgent rush. One breath, and then two, and then three punctuate your claim.

She doesn’t stop. In fact, she speeds up. Her fingers thrust in and out of you, her tongue laves at your clit as she gives the occasional suck. Your only warning as you gush around her is a loud moan that tears from your throat. The pleasure comes in waves, crashing down on you as she happily laps up your release. Your legs jerk and your body trembles in response to your mind-numbing orgasm.

She eases out of you, her skin stained red as her hair and her breath hot as the water she’s enveloped in. She kisses the inside of your thighs a couple more times after you’ve come down, stroking her hands along your thighs. “Come here, omega,” she husks, easing you out of the chair and helping you into the tub with her. Your legs are still wobbly, weak from cumming so hard, and she treats you perfectly.

She lowers you into the water, letting the warmth surround you and ease your muscles. You let out a breathy sigh, eyes drooping as she brings you to straddle her waist. She leans forward, pressing her lips along your neck and chest until she’s groping your breasts again, taking a nipple into her mouth and suckling on it. You’re still moaning, sensitive and already wanting more as she treats you like royalty, as she treats you like hers.

She sets her hand under your bottom, lifting you up slightly as if to position you. When you feel a warm tip pressing at your folds, you hold your breath as you look at her with hooded eyes. She smiles, that confidence seeping back into her eyes at the look you give her. She kisses the space between your collarbones again and looks up at you, her eyes soft and warm.

“Do you want this?” she hums. “Do you want me?”

You nod instantly, leaning forward to kiss her lips, long and slow and just as passionately as the first. “Yes, Alpha,” you breathe against her kiss-swollen mouth. “Yes, I want it so fucking bad.”

She smiles, one that’s way too bright and way too happy for the dark look she’s giving you. She sets her hands on your hips, gripping you there for a moment as she keeps her eyes on your face. You never tear your eyes away, memorizing each shade of green of her eyes, each little fleck that highlights the ring surrounding her dark pupils.

You never take your eye away…until you feel her press inside of you. Long and thick, she fills you up inch by beautiful inch until she is buried to the hilt inside of you. You both let out long, deep sighs as you relish in the feeling of being so full. To stay like this forever would be a dream come true.

She lingers there, letting you get used to her as you clench and waver around her, squeezing her cock in the most amazing way. Your head falls back as your eyes roll to the back of your skull, feeling every ridge and vein she’s pushed inside of you. The pleasure is already so perfect, you don’t know how it could get any better.

Until she starts to move.

She begins to rock her hips, thrusting up inside of you as she guides your waist with her. You moan and gasp as the length of her strokes your walls in the best way possible. It starts out a little slower, trying to ease you into it as she clenches her teeth and stares at you, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. The desire sets into a fiery heat urges her to move faster.

The water sways back and forth, forming a steady rhythm with her insistent thrusts. You brace yourself on her shoulders, squeezing and gripping her there for support. “Just like that,” she breathes. “Doin’ so good for me, omega.”

You whine, burying your face in the crook of your neck as you rock your hips a little faster. The head of her cock presses against the deepest part of you, and you grind down in search of more, more, more. The water retaliates a little more when the pace picks up, rocking back and forth unsteadily as it laps along the sides of the tub and threatens to spill over onto the stone floor. Neither of you care—neither of you notice. You’re too wrapped up in the pleasure that’s filling you to the brim, pushing you to the absolute edge of ecstasy.

After a while, Natasha lets out a primal growl that almost makes you cum then and there. Her muscles flex, taut and lean and absolutely delicious. She wraps her arms around your waist and grips you tight before she sits up, readjusting your bodies so that you lay down against the opposite end of the tub. She grabs your hips in a firm grip and begins to thrust into you again. The new angle is like heaven, clouding your mind and filling it with nothing but Natasha.

Your moan climbs higher and higher, leaning towards desperate strings of cries filling the air and echoing along the walls. Her own husky moans mix with yours in a symphony of lust and absolute rapture. She buries her face in the crook of your neck, lapping at your wet skin as her teeth begin to tease your flesh. They feel a little sharper as her canines begin to protrude just a little more.

You wrap your legs around her waist, tightening your hold on her so her long strokes become shorter, rougher thrusts that threaten to make you scream for her—as if you aren’t loud enough. You claw at her back, digging your nails into her skin and raking downwards in a sudden need to grab something. She groans against the flesh of your throat.

She reaches between your bodies, the pad of her thumb playing with your clit to help push you further toward your breaking point. Your whole body jolts in response, and you bite your bottom lip so hard, you break the skin.

“Alpha!” you cry out. “Mm, ‘m gonna cum. Please, ‘m gonna cum again.”

Her breaths are ragged in your ear, short huffs punctuated by the thrust of her hips. “I know,” she pants. “I know. I’m right behind you.” Your legs tighten and she continues to grind down on you, desperate for that release that’s right around the corner.

She listens to the climbing of your moans, spurring her on until it’s too much to hold back. She curses loudly as she whispers into your ear, “Cum for me, omega. Cum for your Alpha.”

And you do. Gods, you do. With a loud cry, you let that name fall from your lips as you clamp down around her throbbing cock. You gush and gasp and wail as you cum harder than before.

Natasha can’t hold back anymore. She thrusts deep inside of you, burying herself as far as she’ll go as her teeth sink into the juncture of your neck and your shoulder and her hot cum spills inside of you. The pain of her bite mixes into a gripping pleasure as you feel her cock swell inside of you, a knot building bigger and bigger until you’re completely filled with her.

You both stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other as you ride out the highs that don’t seem to come down for a while. Everything calms in steps, one thing at a time slowing the heated air around you. Her jaw eases up as her teeth release your flesh. Her tongue laps at your skin, soothing the bite she’s left behind as an obvious claim. Your legs loosen around her waist, your body falling limp as you—very slowly—come down.

Natasha leans back to look at your face, still fully seated inside of you as she wipes some hair from your forehead and offers a bright smile. “Hey,” she whispers, bringing you back from wherever you’d run off to as she watches your far-off look. “Welcome back,” she says, leaning forward and kissing all over your face with tender care.

You smile at her. It’s a lopsided grin paired with droopy eyes, and it’s a look she instantly falls in love with. “Hey,” you respond, your voice just as lazy as your expression.

She carefully shifts again so she’s laying on her back, allowing you to rest against her chest as you both stay fully connected to the other. She strokes her fingers along your spine, easing you back to consciousness while the haze wears off, kissing your face and whispering sweet nothing into your ear.

You smile at her, some of your teasing from before slipping back into your voice as you lean back enough to see her pretty face. “See?” you prompt, “You’re not dangerous.” She chuckles, entirely amused and way too sidetracked by your kiss as she watches you. “You’re my Alpha.”

She smiles, a wide grin that makes your heart soar. “And my omega.”

You sigh, making a face as you tilt your head. “I dunno about that.”

Her brow raises in response. “Oh, yeah?” You nod adorably and she scoffs. “Maybe I should prove it again, then. That bite in your shoulder must not’ve gone deep enough.” Her fingers ghost over said bite and you bite your lip, leaning forward again to brush your mouth over hers.

“Maybe,” you softly challenge, molding your lips with hers once more. You chuckle against the other’s mouths, enjoying each other thoroughly. You sigh and pull away, resting your head in the crook of her neck as she holds you, still stroking your spine in a way that’s far too loving for someone she’s known for three days.

You bring your hand to stroke her opposite shoulder, your finger tracing patterns along her skin. “Natasha?” you whisper gently. She hums, her eyes closed as she leans her head back. You chew on your bottom lip, thinking for a moment before you respond. “Stay.” She turns her head toward you. You speak again, looking at her with hopeful eyes, “Just for a little longer. Maybe just one more day… I don’t think I’m ready to let you leave yet.”

Her lips spread in a smile as she presses them against your forehead. “My little witch,” she sighs dreamily. “You’ll probably have to put up with me for the next week. And, when I do leave, believe me when I say that I will keep coming back to claim you again.” She chuckles, glancing back at you once more as she speaks in a half growl, “Mine.”

You smile wide. “Maybe…” you trail off, “maybe one day I can join you. There’s a training witch in the village who can eventually take my place. Then…you and me, we could travel together…keep each other safe.”

Your heart is thumping in your chest as you await her response. And then it’s soaring when she beams at you with chuckles, “Sweetheart, I’d love nothing more.”

An excited chuckle climbs its way out of your throat as you settle closer somehow. You kiss the crook of her neck and sigh, closing your eyes. “Yeah… I’m keeping you.” She laughs gently in response, closing her eyes as she relaxes against you.

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[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Resolutions

Title: Resolutions

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing

Summary: Steve and Y/N recover from their night out for New Year’s Eve.

A/N: Happy New Year! Here’s some short fluff to kick off 2024, just in case you already need it. Thank you for supporting me all of 2023. I’m excited to see what this year brings!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

The soreness and stiffness of your muscles is the first thing you notice as you blink awake. The second is that Steve is no longer in bed. Slowly, you sit up and groan as you do. You grab the blankets from the inside and pull them with you, doing your best to stay covered by their warmth as you peer around the room and search for him.

You clear your throat, then call, “Steve?”

A moment later, he appears in your doorway, already dressed in his running gear. Steve smiles once he sees you staring blearily at him from under the covers.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks.

You sigh and snuggle back down in bed now that you know he’s okay. “Good. What time is it? Are you really going to run? We were up all night.” Yawning, you pull the blankets as far up to your chin as you can, and Steve laughs in response.

He closes the distance between himself and the bed, then sits beside your legs. You turn on your side and shift slightly towards the center of the bed to make more room for him. From under the covers, you reach out a hand, and he takes it. Steve’s fingers are warm, which more than makes up for the blankets you almost immediately miss once you stick your hand out. The room is far too cold for your liking.

“I promised Tony that I’d run with him,” he replies. “New Year’s resolutions and all that.”

You hum and close your eyes, enjoying the heat that radiates from Steve’s body and warms up your legs.

“Y/N?” he asks.

You peek open an eye.

“Are you going to fall asleep again?”

Grinning, you let go of his hand and stretch underneath the blankets, reveling in the way your muscles lengthen, then relax. After the long night of standing, walking, and dancing that you’d had the night before, it feels sublime. You let out a groan as you relax back against the mattress.

“No,” you reply. You flip onto your back, watching Steve as he bends over to adjust the laces on his shoes. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?” 

He sits back up. “Maybe an hour or so. I’m not sure how long Tony’s going to want to run.”

“Has he ever been running with you before?” you ask, tsking when Steve shakes his head. “That’ll be fun, I’m sure. He’s probably just gonna end up mad at you.”

Steve laughs and shifts so he’s facing you more than before. “That’s what I told him. You gonna be up by the time I get back?”

You grin and he laughs again, knowing that you’re likely to stay in bed as long as you can. It’s not often that you have the day off work and have no appointments or errands to run.

Leaning down, Steve presses a kiss to your cheek. You tilt your head to the side and close your eyes when he does, reveling in the sweet gesture. As he pulls away, you open your eyes again and watch as he gets up to go.

“Run fast! Faster than Tony!” you call after him, and Steve shouts something you can’t quite make out in response. It makes you smile nonetheless, and you snuggle back under the covers once more, ready to doze until he returns.

When you finally do get out of bed an hour and a half later, Steve still isn’t back from his run. You don’t worry, but you do shoot him a text that you’ll know he’ll see on his watch, no matter how fast he’s running. He’s set up a special vibration pattern for the alerts when you text or call so that he always knows when it’s you.

FRIDAY picks out an upbeat, motivation-boosting playlist when you ask, and you get ready as you sing along to some of the high-tempo songs she’s gathered from your music library. You stretch, pop a pain pill to help with your sore muscles, and pull on your comfiest house clothes before you brush your teeth and wash your face. You’re just starting to make breakfast when the front door opens and FRIDAY alerts you to Steve’s arrival.

“Hey!” you call out, leaning back from the stove so you can peer at him past the fridge.

Steve’s kicking off his shoes at the front door. He’s drenched in sweat and is moving stiffly, and you have to suppress a wince. You know that whatever effects he’s feeling from the long run, Tony’s probably feeling them tenfold.

“How’d it go?” you ask.

He looks up and meets your eyes, and this time you let yourself wince so that he can see you’ve noticed the weary look on his face.

“That bad, huh?”

“It wasn’t bad,” Steve finally answers, panting slightly. He tilts his head back, then lifts his water bottle and shakes the last few drops into his open mouth. “Just long. I didn’t stretch as much as I should’ve, either.”

“Well, you haven’t run since before Christmas. Most people probably feel the same way you do today, too,” you say.

You flip the last protein pancake you’ve made for him, then go back to chopping up the fruit. Steve pads across the living room and into the kitchen. He immediately discards his water bottle into the sink and pulls a glass from the cabinet.

“There’s juice in the fridge,” you tell him, not glancing up from your work. “Or I can make coffee, if you want.”

“I just need water,” he replies. 

Steve fills up his glass three times from the water dispenser built into the Stark Industries mega fridge. You’re thankful that Tony had it built into your apartment. Otherwise, you’d have to go grocery shopping three or four times a week just to make sure that both you and Steve are well-fed. Between his high metabolism, the extra food he needs after his long workouts, and your own meals, you’re certain that the two of you go through several hundred dollars worth of groceries a week.

“Breakfast should be done once you’re out of the shower,” you say.

You look over at Steve then, and he nods as he finishes swallowing the water and sets the empty glass down on the counter. He leaves you to go shower then, and you finish cooking as you listen to the shower start.

Steve sings while he showers. It makes you smile, just like it always does, as you set the table and open the blinds, peering out at the city. The snow from Christmas Day has almost melted, and the cleanup from last night’s festivities is almost over. You’ve lived in the city for years and it still amazes you how quickly Times Square gets cleaned up, then the streets that surround it.

“What are you looking at?”

You turn to find Steve standing in the doorway to the kitchen, drying his hair with a towel. You hadn’t heard him stop singing, nor had you heard him finish up in the shower. He must’ve been quick today.

“Just amazed at how quickly everything got cleaned up, is all,” you say, moving away from the window. “The street was a mess when we got home.”

Steve chuckles and drapes the towel over the back of one of the wooden chairs at the table. “Well, Tony did host his own party last night, in addition to the one in the Square,” he replies.

You grin, remembering how you’d snuck out of Tony’s over-the-top party to take Steve to see the ball drop. Given that it was your first New Year’s Eve together, you’d wanted it to be special, and he’d confided just before Christmas that he’d never seen the ball drop. He’d never managed to see it in person before he went into the ice, and once he was back, he’d been too overwhelmed to bother watching it on TV. You’d held his hand the whole time, and once you’d gotten to the VIP spot you’d managed to reserve after some serious name-dropping, you’d stood in front of him so he could wrap his arms around you to keep you warm.

Steve had been amazed by all the technology involved in the performances and the actual ball drop itself. He’d asked a billion questions during the show, enough that you’d spent more time explaining who Miley Cyrus was than you did actually watching her set. You didn’t mind, though. You’d answer Steve’s questions for a thousand years if it meant spending time together.

“Which one was your favorite?” you ask as you pull out your chair to sit at the table. Steve does the same.

“As much as I liked the one here, I liked the one in the Square.”

You heap pancakes onto both of your plates. Once you do, Steve starts dishing out toppings.

“Yeah?”

“I got to be closer to you.”

Heat flames in your cheeks and you mutter something about liking the same thing as you dig into your food. You know that Steve is smiling to himself as he starts to eat too—he always grins like a little boy who’s just kissed a girl for the first time whenever he successfully flusters you. It’s endearing.

The two of you eat, talking about the parties and his morning run in between bites, and Steve cleans up while you queue up the most recent episode of your show. Once the last dish is on the drying rack, he takes up his normal spot beside you on the couch. He drapes his arm behind your shoulders and stretches his legs out in front of him as you press play and set aside the remote. You pull a blanket over your laps, the massive fluffy one that Clint had bought you for Christmas.

Halfway through the episode, Steve looks over at you and asks, “What’s your New Year’s resolution?”

You glance in his direction, then scoot closer so you can cuddle against him. “I don’t know. I don’t think I really have one this year. After everything that’s happened, I guess my goal is to have a calm year, but that’s not really something I can control, you know?”

He hums in acknowledgement and shifts his arm so his hand is resting on your shoulder. His thumb rubs a steady back and forth movement as you continue to watch the show, but after a few minutes you tilt your head back to look up at him.

“Do you have one? A resolution?”

“I do,” Steve says. He looks away from the screen to meet your eyes, and he smiles a little. “Maybe it’s a little old-fashioned, though. Tony said it was, at least.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

“I want to spend more time with you. And when I’m with you,” he adds, “I want to be fully focused on you, not thinking about whatever mission they might send us on next or whatever’s happening halfway across the world.”

Smiling wide, you reach up with one hand to touch your fingertips over Steve’s cheek, turning his face more towards you, and then you pull him down for a kiss. His free hand moves to cradle your face as his lips move against yours. 

“That has to be the sweetest, most romantic New Year’s resolution I’ve ever heard,” you murmur.

Steve chuckles. His breath is warm as it fans across your face. “Yeah?”

“Did you practice that this morning with Tony?”

He bursts into laughter and pulls away. You’re grinning and watching him as he tries not to seem flustered by your seemingly innocuous question, and you have to force yourself to hold in your own laughter so you can pretend to be serious about it.

“I’m just saying, he’s more of a ladies man than you,” you continue, “so it only makes logical sense that you’d try to convince him to teach you some moves!”

“Teach me some moves?” Steve repeats, smiling wide. He shifts from his spot on the couch, easily moving until he’s stretched out across it and you’re on your back underneath him. The blanket falls to the floor and one of his legs is braced on top of it, because you haven’t been able to order a couch that’s wide enough for him to lay on comfortably. 

“Yeah, you know. Flirting! Did you forget what that is?”

He rolls his eyes and leans down to kiss you, but it’s sweet and cut short because you’re both smiling too much. You give in to the laughter. He rolls his eyes, though he still smiles even as you throw your head back, your whole body shaking.

Steve presses another chaste kiss to your lips when you calm down enough to breathe properly. “Do you really think I need help flirting with you?” he teases.

You shake your head and pull him down to lay on top of you, then wrap your arms around him. One hand goes to play with the hair on the back of his head while the other rubs up and down his spine, and you feel him practically melt against you a few moments later.

Smiling to yourself, you answer, “You know I don’t, lover boy.”

He falls asleep sometime during the next episode, but you don’t mind. You turn your head to watch the show as you continue to rub Steve’s back, and every once and a while you close your eyes just to soak in the moment. It’s the perfect, most peaceful start to the new year. You want to relish every second of it.

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