Tumpik
#mcu fic
chryist · 8 hours ago
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IMAGINE YOU TAKING CARE OF THE BOYS
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wanda maximoff x fem!reader
synopsis wanda finds the boys…and you?
cont fluff, wanda jumping through verses, wanda upset about the boys, fight in the beginning, her heart grows fond of reader, italics are wanda’s thoughts
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to universe to universe, none of them held the presence of her children. her sanity erased each day without her children. wanda needed those boys.
finally, her boys come to light. she sees them, playing in the yard, calling for their mommy. she runs to answer their call but she sees you. her heart feels betrayed. obviously, you manipulated the boys into thinking you are their mother. there is no other way. her hands start to glow. not in front of the boys. she reminds herself.
it’s late in the night, time to put the boys to sleep. you tuck both of them in, placing a kiss on their foreheads before flicking the light and closing the door. before entering your bedroom, you hear footsteps. it’s be stupid for you to investigate. but it’d also be stupid for you not to investigate, for the boy’s sake. you make your mind up and grab a bat from near by. “hello?” “nice to finally meet you.” you turn around, swinging your bat towards the voice. the bat stops midway from some type of force. “that’s not necessary. i just want my boys. i don’t want to hurt you. obviously, they don’t know any better. so, let’s make this easy. for the both of us.” “wanda? i-i thought you were dead.” “what?” “after you fought agatha, letting the village go killed you. or at least we thought it did.” the boys tip-toe to the top of the stairs, yelling wanda’s name. “mommy! mommy!” they shove each other while running down the stairs. “boys!” she in overjoyed at the sight of her sons finally recognizing her, but she has to get rid of you. “mommy, where’d she go?”you look at her. smiling. “i’ll let her explain.” you peck her cheek, hugging her, before heading upsides. what’s going on? she’s supposed to be upset with you. she loathes you.
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she wakes up, expecting to see herself in the different universe than her desired one. but, she stayed. she’s home. with two boys cuddled under her. she smiles to herself. that is until the smell of pancakes hit her nose. you. “you’re finally awake, my love.” your back is turned to her. “we’ve got to talk.” “about what?” “why are you here?” you turn the fire off, finally facing her. “what do you mean?” god, are you beautiful. “i mean, i’m their mother. you’re not supposed to be here.” “wanda, i’ve been here. i’ve been taking care of the boys after you took over a whole town. we created a family together.” you furrow your eyebrows at her. “i thought me and vision…” “you met me after the war.” you wipe your hands with your apron. “how do you not remember?” you have a sorrow look in your eyes. why is my heart pounding out of my chest? she looks around the room, seeing pictures of you and her smiling. some including the boys. but one catches her eye. it’s a photo of you pregnant. and her kissing your stomach. she’s being honest. she smiles. “you’re right. i’m just not used to being around you guys.” she gives your forehead a chaste kiss, holding your hands. “i remember now.”
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chryist’s work. do not copy/steal/translate.
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thewitchandtheassassin · a day ago
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Crossing the Bridge (Wanda M. x Reader x Yelena B.)
Summary: the final piece of Picture-Perfect.
Words: 1390
Warnings: Language, minor angst, regrets, etc.
Taglist: @natasharomanoffswife​ @natasha-danvers​ @aaron-despair​ @username23345 @xjiasx​ @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova​ @summergeezburr @marvels-writings @imnotasuperhero @miscmarvelwritings @captain-josslett @onlyafewfindtheway @hayleyokami @b-5by5 @lostandsearching @evilcr0ne​ @meimei-a​ (sorry I forgot to tag for part 2, friend)
A/N: Ay, another minor series finished. Tada.
-X-
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The aftermath of your confession had left everyone utterly speechless as they stared after you. Natasha had started to follow but Clint, finally understanding how damaging his best friend’s actions were to you, stepped in front of her before she could bolt from the room.
Yelena was the first to rise from the couch, furious at Natasha for pushing. Most of the team often forgot how human you were. Despite your powers – your kindness, your heart – you were still human.
“How dare you?” she hissed, fists clenched as she fought off the urge to slug her sister across the face, cheeks burning with anger despite the calming hand of the witch falling to her shoulder. “You repeatedly hurt her but have the audacity to believe she owes you anything? While you’re still fucking the woman you’d cheated on her with? Has someone recently slapped you with a stupid stick?”
Natasha’s face was flushed with shame. “Lena –”
“Don’t. You keep itching the wounds you caused, pouring salt in them every chance while daring to act like the wounded party. Do you not care about her at all? Did she ever mean anything to you? Because if you cared, you wouldn’t act so carelessly or selfishly; you wouldn’t make her cry. You’d apologize and let her heal without guilting her for possibly moving on without giving you a second chance,” Wanda scolded the silent redhead, shaking her head in disgust. She could feel her blonde friend – the third piece of their little love trio? – trembling beside her, frozen in her fury. “She deserves to be happy.”
“Actually,” Tony chimed in, a thoughtful lilt in his voice, “She gave you a lot of chances. To come clean about Carol. To stop fucking Carol. But you still haven’t done either of those things. You might’ve apologized, I’m not too sure, but did you ever consider her feelings? Answer the whys I’m sure (Y/N)’s been floating around ever since it happened?”
Tears fell down Natasha’s cheeks in steady streams as the gravity of what she’d done – and kept doing – washed over her. She’d never stopped to consider the things presented to her. Only worried about winning you back, she never once stopped to wonder why she couldn’t accept your goodbyes. Why she kept trying despite knowing she’d probably lost you the first time she’d let the blonde bed her. It wasn’t her love for you driving the need anymore –
It was the fear of never feeling loved like that again.
You’d been such a constant for so long. Loving her with your entire being; doing everything you could to help carry the weights of her past on your shoulders. Being her rock when the world crumbled around her. Somewhere along the way she had stopped trying to be a good girlfriend, simply basking in the feeling of your love without offering any of her own.
“I’m a monster,” she whispered, eyes falling closed. “I’m so sorry…”
Yelena’s lips twitched but she refused to offer her sister any comfort, knowing it wouldn’t be real on her part. She couldn’t decipher if this was another “woe is me” moment or true understanding but she didn’t care to find out.
“We should find (Y/N),” Wanda murmured to her companion, worry pinching her brows together as pieces of your thoughts echoed throughout the Compound, heartbreak emanating from you in waves. “I’m certain she needs us right now.”
Nodding, Yelena tangled her fingers with Wanda’s and began dragging her in the direction you’d escaped.
“T-try the roof,” Natasha offered weakly, a broken smile painted across her lips. “She likes to stare at the sky whenever she’s upset because she pretends her tears are fallen stars. Check Bucky’s hideaway spot.”
Peering over her shoulder at the distraught Widow, Yelena nodded sharply before she disappeared from sight with Wanda in tow. It was an obvious olive branch – and hopefully, it could be a start.
-X-
You were fairly positive there was a puddle beneath Bucky’s hammock but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop the emotions or, subsequently, the tears that followed. Wiping angrily at your face, you desperately pondered the best ways to salvage everything. Even if they didn’t feel the same way about you, the idea of losing their friendships left you reeling and panicky.
It wasn’t an option.
Hearing the creaky roof door swing open, you tried to make yourself as small as possible, dragging the blanket Bucky kept tucked under the hammock over your head. It was absolutely ridiculous but maybe if you hid, whoever had come for you would leave you alone. It was unlikely, considering how nosey and heartfelt the majority of the team chose to be but you would hope this time might be different.
A gentle hand gripped the top of the blanket and tugged it down. Two sets of kind eyes peered at you, their respective greens shimmering in the clear night’s moonlight.
“Go ‘way,” you mumbled, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t be forced to see the pity that was surely lingering in their gaze.
Two soft but entirely different hands met your cheeks, wiping the tears that were still trickling along your skin. Yelena’s thumb was rougher but she was careful, so self-conscious of the calluses and scar tissue but you had never minded the feeling of them. You loved it, even if she couldn’t understand that.
Wanda’s hands were free of those same markings but you could always feel the magic thrumming just below her skin, tendrils of scarlet always within reach if she were to simply let her fingers wander. Both so utterly dangerous and yet…
You trusted them.
“Oh sweetheart,” Wanda cooed, “You don’t have to hide from us.”
Both women had to suppress their giggles at your whiny, “yes, I do.”
As silence encompassed the roof – aside from the occasional murmurs below and a passing vehicle – you realized you couldn’t stay hidden forever. Their gazes were burning against your skin, even if you couldn’t see it. You needed to face the music, whether it turn out to be a symphony or an elementary school concert.
No matter the outcome, you couldn’t run endlessly.
Slowly peeking up at the smiling heroines still lingering above you, a tentative – and so very sheepish – grin broke across your cheeks.
“Hi?”
“Hi, malishka,” Yelena teased, tapping your nose affectionately before helping you sit upright, legs falling over the side of the hammock as you steadied yourself. “You did not have to run, you know. My sister is a bitch but no one was upset with you.”
Cheeks warm, you stared shamefaced at your feet. “I was embarrassed.”
“You did nothing wrong,” Wanda promised, keeping the hammock balanced with her magic as she settled at your side, Yelena claiming the other effortlessly. “She was out of line. She shouldn’t have pushed you when you were the injured party in all of this, not her. I do think she understands now, though.”
Chuckling humorlessly, you shrugged. “Nat loved the love. Not me, not anymore. I think it had been like that for a long time.”
“Well, no one has ever said my sister is smart,” Yelena sneered, though the venom once dripping from her words was absent. “She may have let you go but I am fairly certain you have two people who would feel honored to be loved by you. And…” she glanced over your shoulder at Wanda, “…who will love you and each other in return.”
Wanda beamed, nodding empathically. “Without hesitation.”
Wet laughter escaped your throat as you leaned against the young witch, dragging Yelena with you even as the hammock threatened to flip. All you wanted was to feel engulfed by the women who’d stolen your heart.
“To think you guys hated each other,” you razzed playfully, squealing as deft, strong assassin’s fingers dug into your side. “What?! You did!”
Pressing a kiss to your temple, Wanda shook her head. “I never hated her. I think we simply needed the final piece of our hearts to bind us together. Show us how to cross the bridge we never knew was there.”
“And now, we will walk the bridge together,” Yelena finished with a sappy smile, head falling to your shoulder as her arm snaked between you and Wanda so her hand could land atop your tangled fingers.
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dazzlingblue4u · a day ago
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Just a Little Bit of Your Heart
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Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader
Summary: You know you're not her only lover, but as long as she stays with you you're content with ignoring her infidelity.
Word Count: 297
You can find part 2 here
You watch the hours tick by. 11 becomes 12 and 12 becomes 1, until you finally here the front door open at 1:28. You hear her slip off her heels as she makes her way to you.
You watch as she walks through your bedroom door. Her once pristine makeup is smeared and her dress is wrinkled. Her hair is a mess and she smells of lavender perfume, even though you know she likes vanilla. You don't bother asking her where she's been, because you already know. She was with her. She has been coming home later and later every night lately. The poof was in your face.
"How was your night baby?" she asks.
"It was good," you say. You keep your replies short because you're too scared to say what you really feel. "How was yours?"
"It was great. The girls and I went to that new club downtown. It was a lot of fun, but I wish you had been there." You can see a slight pout form on her lips.
"Maybe next time baby," you say. Kate climbs into bed next to you and curls herself into your side.
She doesn't say anything and the room falls quiet. You can feel her drift off to sleep next to you, so you get up and turn off the lights. Your thoughts swirl around in your head.
"How could you let her do this to you?"
"Why do you stay?"
That's when you realize that you love her too much to walk away. As long as she still comes home to you, you're happy to ignore her infidelity.
You climb back into be and cuddle up against her, content with just a little bit of her heart, even though she has all of yours.
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asirensrage · 18 hours ago
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Succumb - Steve Rogers x OC
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Title: Succumb Fandom: MCU Pairing: Steve Rogers x OC Word count: 4210 Warnings: torture, forced pregnancy, kidnapping, isolation, swearing, illness, biological warfare, dubious-consent, coercion. Also available on Ao3
Summary: Steve Rogers is betrayed. He's not the only one.
Notes: shout out to @vixenofcourse who indulged me as I delved into this idea after I read Flowers in the Attic. All of my thanks to her for editing it for me. The sketch used in the banner above is gorgeous and for sale. Check it out here. Also, please let me know what you think. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this (and not just because I have ideas of what happens after...)
This is a darker fic. Heed the warnings.
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Steve Rogers is betrayed.
He’s led down into this place he doesn’t recognize by Sitwell. He’s been back in the world for only a few months, barely long enough to start figuring out the way things work. He’s not entirely sure he likes the people he’s surrounded by but aside from their initial deception after he thawed, SHIELD has tried to help guide him…even though they keep assuming he can’t adapt. 
He hears a woman calling out for help and with a quick glance at Sitwell who doesn’t seem concerned, Steve picks up the pace. He’s locked in with her before he can stop it. Confused, he demands to be released only to be told to think of it as a vacation. One with a willing, warm body for his needs. The woman cries harder at that and all Steve can think about is how fucking stupid he is in this moment. He didn’t even suspect the trap or question the directive that no weapons were allowed past the stairs. 
He tries to break open the door, the walls, anything to be released. Nothing moves. Seems they’ve learned their lesson from his first awakening on their turf. Eventually, he slumps down and looks at the woman who’s been ‘given’ to him. She looks like she just got off work at an office. 
“I’m sorry,” he says. He means it too. 
“It’s not your fault,” she replies, wiping her face free of tears. “You didn’t put me here. Fucking SHIELD did.” 
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Days pass. 
The room they have been forced into is small, especially for two people. Barely long enough to lie down with his feet planted against one wall and stretch his arms over his head to brush the opposite wall with his fingertips . There’s a bare foam pad for a mattress on the floor in the corner and a washroom with a toilet securely fastened down, same with the shower head over the drain in the floor.  There’s no shower curtain or partition for privacy, only a missing door. He’s seen better conditions during the war. 
Steve learns her name, Eurydice, and that she had just recently started working in the Human Resources department of the agency. An agent had asked for her assistance…before throwing her in here a couple days ago, she thinks. They didn’t tell her why. They didn’t speak to her at all until he came. 
Food is delivered only during the night and rationed throughout the day. He tries, over and over, to grab whoever is delivering it. He somehow never manages as it’s shoved through an opening in the door. He spends a couple of days trying to break it but when he attempts it, they’re not fed. He abandons this venture only once his vision is blurring and his hands begin to shake while the woman he’s with is curled in the corner, trying to quell the misery of her hunger. Food begins to arrive again after he stops.
Finally, they are told why they’re there. Why they won’t be released any time soon. 
“You are a rare specimen, captain,” an anonymous voice says. The speaker is buried in the wall. “We were not able to procure a sample of your semen while you were emerging from the ice, so we’ll do this the old-fashioned way. You’ll sleep with the girl, Captain and give us the child.” 
There have been few moments where Steve has actually been overcome with rage. This is one of them. But it is nothing compared to her. 
He‘s never heard some of her swears before, even from the men he’s spent time with in the forties. 
“It’s okay,” he says. “I promise. No matter what. I won’t touch you, okay? It won’t happen. I’ll get us out of this. Now we know what they want so we just don’t give it to them.  We’ve got this.”
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He does not have this. 
Neither of them do. He realizes, likely too late, that he should have tried to actually build relationships with the people he’s met. How many of them are wondering where he is? Is anyone? Or has SHIELD spun a story addressing his disappearance? What about hers? 
There’s nothing to do but talk or draw on the walls with the pen and charcoal he had stashed in one of his pockets that would have held his sketchbook. She is a terrible artist but she fills the silence as he draws.
Eurydice (“Dizzy to my friends”) is 29 and named after the Greek myth. Her father was a classics professor, her mother an accountant. She‘s new to the city and only joined SHIELD because she needed a job, not out of some patriotic duty. She likes spicy food and tacos and green tea. She prefers comedies over action and she misses listening to her father’s voice reading to her. Her voice breaks at that. 
Steve tells her about his mother, about Bucky and even about Peggy. 
She scoffs at that last relationship, with one of the founders of SHIELD, and they fight. It ends with her retreating to the bathroom and Steve nearly breaking his own hand punching the wall. She’s wrong. He wants her to be wrong but part of him worries she’s not. 
Then the music starts. 
It blares from the speakers, causing Eurydice to curl up, covering her ears. Steve tries to find the speakers, to break them, but it’s so loud that he can’t hear where it’s coming from. It lasts for hours and when it finally stops, when they finally have silence after curling into each other trying to help cover their ears, the fight is long forgotten. 
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It doesn’t stop there. 
They don’t get a change of clothes. The temperature seems to drop with no pattern. He offers his warmth, promising to be respectful and not touch her any more than necessary, but they go from trying to huddle together to her choosing to lean against him constantly. She shivers in the dark and it’s all Steve can do to try to keep either of them from freezing. It’s only when they’re curled up together, when her teeth stop chattering as her head rests against his chest, that the cold seems to ease. 
Despite everything, despite being used as an experiment and being seen as a paragon of virtue, Steve is human. He’s a man. In the weeks that pass, filled with mindless boredom and conversation about anything possible, he finds himself entranced. 
She’s quick-witted, funny and while she’s a bit of a pessimist, she’s trying. That means a lot to Steve. Especially when she tries to cheer him up. 
She’s also gorgeous in an old-fashioned way. She reminds him of the faded photographs his mother kept of family and friends gone or left behind. It’s subtle, and he thinks in this time maybe she’s overlooked. He can’t help but watch her and not because she’s the only other person here rarely more than arm’s length away. Eurydice is all soft curves and bright eyes and sharp tongue. He thinks if they had met some other way, he would have been tempted to ask her out. Considered leaving the memory of Peggy in the past to get to know her. 
He wants and wants and wants. But Steve made her a promise. He won’t touch her. He’s not even going to let her know how he yearns. 
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“SHIELD can’t be good,” she tells him one day. “Not when they’re doing this.” 
She’s leaning against him, beyond exhausted. He’s always trying to hide her behind his bulk, away from the door. Away from anything that could hurt her. 
“I know,” he says. He’s been thinking of it since the day they locked them in. The Peggy he knew wouldn’t have accepted this but he’s wondered if he ever really knew her, how early the rot set in, how she and others could have missed it. A romance on and off a battlefield didn’t actually mean they knew every facet of each other. All the good and the bad and what might be seen as an acceptable compromise to secure something that looks like peace and security. After all, history is full of them. 
In the time he’s been here, he thinks he’s seen every side of Eurydice. He’s held her as she cried in despair or raged against their captivity. Slept with her pulled against him, trying to share his body heat. Shared every meal. He’s been subject to her anger even her pain when she menstruated. She’s seen every part of him in return. His anger, his sarcasm, the way he likes to pretend to be the version the public expects and the real him. She’s heard all of his hopes and dreams and frustrations. She knows how he hasn’t fully trusted anyone since Bucky. 
“I wish I could draw you,” he tells her when she’s falling asleep. “I wish—” He stops himself and looks at the walls around them. He’s covered them in landscapes and memories of New York. He’s drawn everything he could think of, anything to keep him from reaching out to her. Even when she’s the one who moves closer, who tries to comfort him. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Only have a pencil but I’m trying to give you the world. However I can.”
“Thank you, Steve,” she murmurs back. He feels her relax further into him and he closes his eyes, trying to focus on the sound of her breathing. 
So of course the music starts again. 
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He feels her eyes on him almost constantly, though it’s long ago become a comforting weight. But lately, she looks away every time he tries to meet her gaze, to figure out what she’s thinking. It’s the only thing she really hides from him. He hates it. He wants her to tell him, to admit it. He wants to know that he’s not alone in feeling like this. 
So he relishes the moments she gives. The way she talks to him when she tries to sooth his anger, how she’s always the first to reach out to him, to tuck herself against his side. She’s the one who moves closer because he swore he wouldn’t and it takes everything in him not to pull her tighter against him and not let her go. 
The soap they share lingers on her skin and he breathes it in every chance he gets. It’s better on her but mainly because there’s some part of him that enjoys her having his scent, as though he can claim her in any way possible without actually crossing the boundary he placed between them. It makes him feel like this is all welcomed. That if he closes his eyes, he can pretend that they’re somewhere warm. That they chose to be together instead of forced. He thinks he’d choose her now over anyone. 
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He doesn’t want to scare her. 
It’s been weeks. Months? He should know but when he’s not thinking about how they’re going to escape, he’s thinking about her. 
Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation. They haven’t been able to grab even a full hour anymore. Any time they get close to falling asleep, the music starts or the temperature drops and they’re forced back to alertness. It doesn’t matter if it’s only one of them or both, they’re not allowed to rest. He can’t help it though. 
He thinks about how she sometimes smiles and how it feels like it lights the whole place up. He thinks about what it would be like to touch her, to have her relax against him completely. He thinks about the way she sometimes holds her breath, the soft sounds she tries not to make when she's in the shower and he pretends he doesn’t hear. He wants to know if she thinks of him then, like he does her. 
 He thinks about how she’s starting to thin out, that the curves he first noticed are beginning to shrink. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like how she’s not moving as fast as she used to, that her quick-witted responses aren’t happening as much. Apathy is setting in. 
He thinks about what it would be like if they weren’t here, if they were in some apartment with the sun shining in through the windows and he tries to ignore the itch to draw her. 
He needs to get them out of here. If only so they can have a real chance. 
The sleep torture stops as suddenly as it started and Steve has no idea how long they sleep in the ringing quiet. 
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Something is wrong. 
It starts with a cough. Dizzy tells him that it’s nothing, the air is dry and she’s prone to allergies. He believes her. Until it doesn’t fade. He asks their captors for another blanket, something to help her, but they don’t respond and the cough continues to linger. 
He hears it constantly. It does not ease and Dizzy starts running a fever. She won’t eat and while he should be grateful that they finally get to sleep, she’s sleeping longer and longer. As if it’s getting harder to be awake. 
Then it turns from a mild persistent cough into long barking hacks. He doesn’t need to see the blood speckled in her palm to know that it’s the same thief that took his Ma. 
Steve rages. 
She would have needed to be infected and since he has been her only companion, he knows who’s responsible. 
“God fucking damn it!” he screams at the ceiling. “Heal her!”
There is silence in return until finally the air crackles. “Comply,” the voice says around him. He shakes his head, but fear settles in his chest as Dizzy starts coughing again. 
Steve breaks. 
“Fine,” he swallows and prays she forgives him. He can’t lose her. “Heal her and I’ll do it.” 
Silence answers again. 
“Fuck!” He punches the door. It dents slightly but does not budge and Steve breaks at least one knuckle. 
He hears a noise as the slot where their food is delivered opens. He turns towards it, waiting for it to open. 
“Place your arm through the hole, Captain.” 
“What?”
“Present your arm for injection.” 
He clenches her jaw, trying to quell the desire to refuse. To reach out and break whoever is there but then Dizzy coughs again, her body wracking with it. He kneels at the door and shoves his arm through the hole. He turns to stare at Dizzy as he waits until he feels the needle. 
When he wakes up, she’s gone. 
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It takes three days. 
They torture him in her absence, filling the silence with sounds of her coughing and wheezing. Sounds of her hacking up blood. He doesn’t sleep and he almost imagines he hears his mother, as though he’s back there in the hospital helplessly watching her die. 
Finally, the door slot opens again. 
“Present your arm for injection.”
“Tell me she’s okay.” 
“Your arm, Captain.”
“Is she okay?”
He almost hears a sigh. “If you want her to return, you will present your arm.” He does. 
This time when he wakes up, his head is in her lap. She’s humming softly as she strokes back his hair. It’s almost as though she’s bathed in light but they don’t have any windows. Maybe he’s hallucinating. 
“You’re okay,” he breathes. 
“Yeah,” she says softly. “They healed me.”
He sits up and cups her cheek softly, looking over her face, trying to memorize every feature. She looks better. She looks alive but he can see the impact that this last attempt to force their compliance has had on her.  
“I’m sorry,” he tells her softly. He's sorry that she's been drawn into this mess. Sorry that they've almost killed her over and over in attempts to get them to comply and he's sorry...that part of him isn't because god, he just wants to touch her and if this is the only way, he'll take it. 
She gives forgiveness in two words. “It’s okay.” 
They demand compliance immediately. He begs them for a reprieve. They are granted three days before they promise to replace her. 
Steve sits on the foam pad, his back pressed against the wall. He’s already confessed to her, told her what he promised in exchange for her life. 
Dizzy moves, throwing a leg over him before she settles, straddling his lap. His hands come up to her waist automatically. He’s so used to touching her now, even just casually. He didn’t realize how much he missed it until she went out of her way to reach for him. Even when it wasn’t completely out of survival. 
“I don’t want to die,” she breathes. “If we…they’re going to kill me either way. I have no value to them except for this. If we don’t, they’ll bring someone new but if…if I get pregnant they’re going to tear the kid out of me and I’ll die knowing I lost them to-” she cuts herself off, closing her eyes and trying to bury her face in his chest. He tries to hold her closer, as though he can protect her from these fears. They’d been here too long. 
“I won’t let them.” He forces himself to sound assured, even though they’ve been trying to find an escape since they’ve been locked in. He won’t let anything happen to her. Ever. “This might look like an unwinnable fight, but I’m not gonna give up.  I don’t know how.  So I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, and that’s not coming any time soon.” He pauses slightly before he tells her, “you’re mine. I’ll kill them if they touch you.” 
He says it like a promise but they both know promises can be broken. They were strangers when they met, when they were forced into this place and no matter what he’s tried, their captors have always been able to outmaneuver him. 
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” She shudders against him when he whispers it, his mouth by her ear. “What you feel like. What you taste like. I want to know every sound, every expression, every shiver.” 
His thumb is rubbing soft circles against the skin of her back. She shifts slightly, trying to get closer and he tries not to buck up against her. He’s relished the feel of her before but this is different. This is a chance to gain everything he’s been dreaming about. 
“Tell me what you want,” he says, his voice low. “What you like.” 
“I don’t know.”
“You do. You’re just too afraid to say it.” He moves so that his face is inches from hers. “If you want me to stop, tell me.” She doesn’t. His gaze darts to her lips before searching hers. All he sees is the same hunger he feels for her. He kisses her. Softly, at first, until she moves her mouth against his and his grip tightens. His kiss deepens and she arches against him. He pulls at the slip she’s wearing, desperate to get closer, to feel anything but the fear and anger and helplessness that has saturated them.
How long have they been fighting this? How long…how long have they been here? The kisses turn frantic as she rocks against him. 
It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. 
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They make her take a pregnancy test. Every morning. The only blessing this offers is that it gives them a way to track the days.
Steve finds he can’t stop touching her. Now that he knows what she feels like, some of the sounds she makes though she tries desperately to be quiet because they’re watched, he can’t resist. They are commanded to fuck at least once a day, to fulfil their end of the bargain they were forced into. He does his best to hide her, to cover her as completely as he can so that he can grant her some small mercy. 
It is destroyed with the tests.
Negative test after negative test. Both of them try to hide their relief. They’ve given in, but they’ll do anything they can to keep a child from being born into this torment. Neither of them will give it up to whatever god forsaken plans their captors have. 
But their luck can’t hold out forever and eventually their fears are confirmed. One morning the test is positive.
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“Stay here,” he tells her. He has spent weeks trying to work his way out and now? Now something is happening and the door…the door is ajar. 
“Absolutely not,” she says. “What if it closes again and then I’m just stuck here. Alone.” 
He swallows tightly. They’re both dehydrated, both hungry but he has to take this chance. He just needs her safe. And safe is with him, he reminds himself. He can’t trust anyone else with her. 
“Okay,” he nods. “But follow me and listen to exactly what I say, okay?”
“Sir, yes sir,” she says dryly. He shoves down the way it makes his cock twitch.
“Come on.” He grabs her hand and angles them so that she’s hidden behind him as they leave. She’s small enough now that he’s certain no one would see her. He could block any attacks. 
The hall is deserted. 
Eurydice stays quiet behind him and if it wasn’t for the fact that he can feel her hand in his, he’d almost think she wasn’t there. 
He remembers the way. It’s been etched into his head since that door slammed shut behind him. Since he first saw her, tears in her eyes as she looked at him with hope and then fear. 
They don’t come across anyone for several nerve wracking minutes. It’s odd and alarming enough that he pulls her closer. He doesn’t relax, even when he feels her other hand dig into the back of his shirt. He only prys her fingers off of him, ushering her to stand against the wall as he moves forward to the first guard they come across. It’s luck that keeps the man from turning around too soon. It’s Steve who swiftly disarms him and slams the man’s head into the wall, over and over until there’s a bloody smear when he finally lets the body fall. It does nothing to ebb his anger and he looks back for Dizzy. She’s already moving forward, reaching for him again. She doesn’t even spare the body a glance. 
 He takes their gun and radio, which he keeps, and strips them of the bulletproof vest which he quickly puts on Dizzy. Nothing is going to stop them from leaving this place. 
He hears her breath hitch as they pass a window. It had been months, possibly a year, since they even saw sunlight. Since they’ve seen anything except four walls and each other. 
“We’re almost there,” he says softly. “I got you.”
“I know,” she whispers back. It strengthens his resolve. 
He leads her up a flight of stairs before he forces her back against the wall, shielding her body with his. There’s noise at the door and he raises the gun, ready to shoot. 
The door opens and he catches sight of a familiar face before it pulls back faster than it appeared. The next thing he sees is an arrow directed at him. 
“Stand down!” 
“No.” 
“Cap?” The archer peers at him as he moves into view. “Holy shit.” Steve does not lower his weapon. SHIELD forced them into that room. Everyone he’s known has been SHIELD. Eurydice not included. She was betrayed as he was. She was the only one he could trust. 
“Cap, it’s me. Hawkeye.”
“What are you doing here?” Steve demands. 
“What–we’ve been looking for you. Have you…have you been here the whole time?” Clint lowers the bow, loosening his hold on the arrow. It would be so easy for Steve to shoot him. Even he wouldn’t be fast enough and Steve…he needs to get them out of here. “Holy shit,” he says again. “We were told you were on a mission but La–Nat thought something was wrong.” 
Steve forces himself to relax. He steps towards Clint who’s staring at him like he’s never seen him before. It’s likely the facial hair. They never gave them anything that might be turned into a weapon or used to hurt themselves. 
“We have to go,” he tells his former teammate. 
“Yeah, come on. I know a way. There’s a blind spot on the left side–” 
Clint falls. His distraction in pointing the way gives Steve the moment he needs to knock the man out. He’s not taking any chances. 
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He gets them out. 
They don’t stay in the city. They don’t stay still. When they’re finally free, when they’re out of the city and alone, they stand outside in the sun. They breathe. And if Steve takes the chance to kiss her again, to press her against the car and fuck her, all that matters is the fact that she wants him just as bad. That she begs him for more. 
“They’re not going to let you go,” Eurydice says. She touches the lower part of her stomach. “They won’t let any of us go.”
“Then I’ll burn it down,” he promises. “They won’t get another chance.” 
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taglist: @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @zeleniafic @jvstjewels @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @booty-boggins @residentdormouse @delicateblackrose @stanshollaand @cantfighthemoonknight @wordspin-shares @chrissymunson
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printedpeterparker · 6 months ago
Text
All That Glitters is Gold
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Masterlist
Pairing: Soft!Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Type:  AU One-Shot??
WC: 4.7k
Warnings: Y’all know I love me some fluff!
Summary: The one where Y/N takes a chance on the mobster.
Note: This could become a short series but idk yet. I’m awful with deadlines, especially since I’m in college. But let me know what you guys think! Dividers by @firefly-graphics​
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You wrapped your apron around your waist as you looked in the mirror in the back of the restaurant. You were admittedly tired and wished anyone could’ve picked up your shift tonight. It was just another reminder that maybe your co-workers didn’t deserve you picking up theirs. At least you would be making decent money tonight. Working at an upscale restaurant did have its perks financially. At least you would be working with your favorite co-worker and roommate.
“I thought you weren’t working tonight,” Natasha mentioned as you walked past her. 
“Yeah, well you’re the only person I can depend on to take my shifts, believe it or not,” you slightly chuckled as you picked up a ticket pad, pens, and straws to place in your apron. “But hey, at least the tips are usually good, right?”
“That’s the only reason I’m still working here,” Nat laughed. “That and because Manny in the kitchen still gives me free meals.”
“Well Manny is literally in love with you, and you gotta stop leading him on, Nat.”
“What? He makes food, I eat food; it’s completely transactional.”
You playfully rolled your eyes at your friend before seeing someone get seated in your section. “Okay, well don’t be surprised if he asks you out soon,” you noted before approaching your first table. It looked like a couple on a date, probably a first one by the looks of it.
 “Welcome to Prime. My name is Y/N, and I’ll be your waitress tonight.” Before you could continue man looked at you. Looked was the wrong word. He was looking you up and down, checking you out in front of his date who couldn’t even bring herself to look at you. Her eyes were practically glued to her menu. It was almost intimidating the way he looked into your soul. You cleared your throat, “Can I get either of you something besides water?”
“What can you tell me about the house red?” the man inquired.
“It’s a sangiovese imported from central Tuscany. The blend is earthy and highly acidic with a medium-body. It’s semi-sweet, but it pairs nicely with all of our prime cuts on the menu,” you explained. 
The man listened tentatively with his ringed fingers stroking his chin, “And your honest thoughts on it?”
It was rare for anyone to ask for your thoughts on anything on the menu. Everyone that ate here always thinks they know better. “Uh well, truthfully, you can get the same taste and body from our Napa Valley Zinfandel for less. And the zinfandel tastes better in my opinion.”
“Let’s just get the house wine, baby,” the woman finally spoke up. She batted her lashes in his direction. There were more expensive wines on your menu, but unlike most places, your house wine was still pricey. “You said you’d treat me to the best tonight, James.”
The man you now knew as James nodded, “We’ll do the house then.”
“Right away.” You turned on your heels to retrieve the wine for the couple, but you could still feel his eyes on you. And the most certainly were.
The rest of the night went like any other. They ordered an appetizer and entrée; they even polished off that bottle of wine. But whenever you approached the couple, you could feel all of James’ attention on you. You had to admit, if you could have any man’s attention, you weren’t upset that it was his. Most of the men that brought dates or colleagues here were older and lack boundaries when their hands would touch your hand or lower back. The attention that James gave you didn’t alarm you. He was clean cut almost as if he came out of a  Versace magazine. Sometimes he would catch you looking at him as well. A smirk would fall onto his lips before he gave attention to his date again. 
“Oh my god,” you heard Nat say from behind you. You turned to see her shocked face. “Do you know who that is?” 
You shook your head, “Should I?”
“I know you’re new to New York, but you gotta keep up,” she told you as she led you to the back near the server station. “That is James Barnes. He has…a reputation.”
“What kind of reputation?”
“Some call him a businessman, one of the most powerful in the state. Others, and that may include myself, call him a mobster,” Nat explained. “It’s like a family dynasty that’s been running for generations. It’s kinda like a ghost story about the Barnes family and how they’ve been pushing drugs and other shit in big ways; nothing’s been confirmed, obviously, but that’s probably because he has half of the NYPD and the government in his pocket.” Your eyes went wide as Nat told you the tale. “He’s dangerous, Y/N. Handsome but dangerous. He probably has his goons all over this restaurant.”
You nodded in understanding. You looked back at him to see him talking to his date. You couldn’t make out the words, but after what Nat had told you, you could only wonder what this man was capable of, the things he’s done, the things he’s seen.
“I’d jump his bones though,” Nat slyly mentioned.
“He’s pretty good looking, I guess,” you muttered, your eyes still on him. “But he’s on a date, so might have to get in line.”
“I mean look at him! You know he fucks.”
“Nat!”
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You noticed James’ date got up after their meal was done, probably going towards the bathroom. James had requested the bill as you walked past him before she got up. She was beginning to get a little handsy, so you only figured they both wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. 
You placed the bill on the table, but before you could walk away, James spoke.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” James asked you.
You furrowed your brows, “Excuse me?”
“I wanna take you out, darling.” He said. This man was dripping with confidence.
You slightly chuckled and leaned against the table, “Aren’t you on a date now, James?”
“First date. I can tell it won’t work out, so why waste anymore of my time. My time is very valuable.”
“So is mine.”
“And I won’t waste your time, Y/N. Let me take you out.” 
You remembered what Nat had told you, and it made you hesitate. He was more than just handsome, and you definitely had gone out with worse looking men. But James was different.
“James, I’m flattered, but I’m not really in the dating scene. I’m still trying to get settled in New York and—” Before you could finish your statement, James was pulling out a small wad of cash. What was owed for the dinner, he placed on the bill itself. The rest of the cash you placed in the middle of the table. “What’s this?”
“A tip,” he simply put as he stood up.
You couldn’t even comprehend what to say, “But— I…you’re leaving like a $1,000 tip?”
“Don’t put a question mark where I put a period, darling.”
On that note, you saw his date come back from the bathroom, clearly ready to go. “Let’s go James!” she spoke, sounding slightly irritated with her arms crossed.
Once again, you were at a loss for words. James took the bill and quickly wrote some numbers on the bill and winked at you, “I’ll be seeing you real soon, Y/N. Have a good night.”
James left with his date, leaving you breathless.
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“Well, if you didn’t tell me all that stuff about him, maybe I would’ve said yes,” you groaned. Nat was giving you hell at the end of the night about not immediately saying yes to the unconfirmed mobster. In any other situation, you would’ve said yes. He was charming, well dressed, and confident. But you had to be at least cautious about this guy.
“I get it, but this could have been huge for you,” Nat whined. You rolled your eyes and nudged her. “Okay, but if you wanna apologize, you could split that big ass tip with me.”
You both laughed, but both knew the money was going straight to your rent. Living in New York was no joke after all.  
You both walked out of the restaurant, discussing what you were going to do when you got home. Granted, it was 11pm, so all you really wanted to do was sleep. Nat on the other hand, thought about catching up on some shows on Hulu. There were still a few cars in the parking lot, including Nat’s. Some of your co-workers had cars, but none of them looked like the SUV parked near the back. It was incredibly new and had someone standing in front of it. It was parked right next to Nat’s car. The light in the lot above her car must’ve gone out during the day; neither of you could make out the features of the figure. Regardless, both of you tried to ignore whoever was in front of it.
“I’m not here to hurt you, Y/N,” you heard the voice say.
You immediately identified the voice James’.
“I’m not gonna hurt either of you.”
“James, what are you doing here? You left hours ago with someone in fact,” you reminded him. “Don’t tell me you’ve waited all this time.”
He chuckled and shook his head, “I never got an answer from you, darling. I still wanna take you out.”
“Well, you can’t wait at my work, bribe me with a tip, and then expect me to go out with you,” you scolded him. “That may have worked for you in the past, but that’s not happening here.”
James only stared at you. You didn’t look away this time; you stood your ground. But damn, his glare was intense.
“I’m Natasha, by the way,” your roommate interrupted. Neither of you broke your gaze at each other. “Just thought I’d introduce myself before giving you guys some privacy. Let me know if uh I can be any help,” she shyly mentioned before entering the car and starting it up.
It was just you and James now, standing in the dark parking lot.
“I know who you are, James, and frankly, I’m not sure I wanna associate,” you admitted.
“You know of me, doll.” He took one step closer to you. You immediately felt smaller. “You don’t know me though, but I want you to. And I wanna get to know you. What’s wrong with that?”
“James—”
“Call me Bucky.”
You sighed and crossed your arms, “Bucky, we are very different people, and I just don’t think it’ll work out, okay?”
He placed his hand in his pockets and nodded, “Let me take you to dinner. You’re new here; let me show you my favorite spot.”
“If I go, will you stop bothering me?”
“I’ve barely bothered you, doll, but yes. Let me take you out, and if you want, I’ll never bother you again.”
A part of you didn’t believe him. He looked like a man who wasn’t used to hearing the word ‘no.’ Yet, you rolled your eyes but nodded.
“Fine. One dinner and then you leave me alone.” Bucky couldn’t help but to smile at your words. At this point, you’d do anything just to go home. “Give me your phone. I’ll give you my number.”
“I already have your number, doll,” Bucky smirked. “I just wanted your permission to use it.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes; you were sure if you rolled your eyes any harder, they’d get stuck. Of course this weasel had your number already. “I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Unless, you want a ride home?”
“If you give me a ride, I’ll consider it our date,” you shot back.
Bucky immediately raised his hands in defeat and laughed, “Well, I don’t wanna waste it. I’ll pick you up at 6:00 from your apartment,” Bucky told you as he began to get back in his car.
“I’ll send you the address.” Bucky gave you a look and smirked, before you quickly understood. “Right, you know that already.”
He winked before entering his car. He quickly drove off, leaving you in the parking lot, once again breathless. You entered Nat’s car, and she immediately looked at you waiting for you to spill everything.
“We have a date tomorrow.” Nat squealed before beginning to drive off. “Calm down, he has one chance or there won’t be a second one.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”
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You looked at yourself in the mirror again for the 4th time with a different outfit on and it was already 5:30. You liked how you looked in each outfit, but you were completely unsure where you were even going. It would make sense for Bucky to take you to a nice restaurant; that definitely felt like his speed. You were very used to going out for coffee for first dates, not 5 star restaurants that had $18 cocktails. 
You grabbed your phone, finally deciding to send Bucky a text. He had sent you a text last night in hopes that you got home safely. You only sent a thumbs up as a response, but at least you had his number now. But who’s to say that this is his only phone?
Y/N: Where are you taking me? I don’t know how to dress
You threw your phone back on the bed just to hear it chime as soon as it hit the mattress.
Bucky: Just dress nice.
You scoffed at his response.
Y/N: I feel like we have very different definitions of the phrase “dress nice”
Bucky: You could wear exactly what I saw you in yesterday, and you’d still be the best looking woman in the place.
You felt your cheeks redden a bit. But you couldn’t let him know that he was making your heart flutter.
Y/N: 🙄
Y/N: I’ll just wear a trash bag I guess
Bucky: Can’t wait to see it. I’ll see you at 6.
Bucky was the perfect mix of charming and infuriating. In the few hours you’ve known him, he has managed to make your skin crawl and leave you breathless. It must’ve been a record. You decided to just go with a simple, strapless black dress. You’d at least be prepared for anything this man had in mind.  
You kind of wished Nat was there to at least hype you up before your date. At the very least, she could get this zipper that you were struggling with. But to be fair, she did enough of that last night when you both got home. 
By the time you had gotten yourself zipped up, found shoes, and decided on a purse, 6:00 was just a minute from rolling around. You took one last look in the mirror to fix any lingering imperfections. Truth be told, you hadn’t been on a date in almost a year. When you left home to move to New York, you left your previous boyfriend there too. You just couldn’t handle small life living anymore, and that’s all he wanted. There was no bad blood, but it had prevented you from dating in your new city.
You were pulled out of your thinking as soon as you heard a knock at your door. You looked at your phone, and it was exactly 6:00.
Punctual little shit. 
You approached the door and looked in the peephole; you could see Bucky looking right at it. You opened the door to be greeted by Bucky in a fitted charcoal suit and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You were taken aback. The suit you expected, and it looked damn good, too. The flowers were unexpected; you couldn’t even remember the last time you received flowers from a man.
“That’s a beautiful trash bag, doll,” Bucky joked while gazing upon your body.
“Yeah, it’s Hefty Ultra Strong, actually.” You both couldn’t help but to laugh at your lame joke but at least he laughed. “Uh, the flowers also weren’t necessary, but thank you. Let me put them in some water, and then we can go,” you smiled as you took the flowers.
You walked back into your apartment, towards the kitchen, but Bucky just stood in the doorway looking pensive.
“You can come in, too, if you want,” you chuckled. Bucky muttered an “oh” before stepping in and looking around a little bit.
“How long have you been in New York?” Bucky asked as he looked at the framed photos on the wall. Some of the photos were Nat’s but some contained you with family, graduating, and with friends.
You were attempting to grab a tall vase from the top of the cabinets, straining a bit, “About 10 months now. Was just looking for a new start, y’know? And if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere, I guess.” You groaned as you tried to reach for this vase but you were having no luck. 
“Let me,” Bucky said from behind you. He reached over you, easily grabbing the vase and placing it on the counter. You felt your heart skip a beat when you could smell his cologne and his pelvis almost grind against your ass. “And yeah, this city isn’t for the faint of heart.”
You quickly had to get out of this trance that Bucky’s cologne had put you in. You distracted yourself by putting water in the vase. “Yeah, but I’ve been working at Prime in the meantime. It’s decent money for now.” The vase quickly filled with water and you plopped the flowers in there, placing them nicely on the counter. You turned around to Bucky, and slightly smiled. “So, shall we?”
He returned the small smile and nodded, “We shall, doll.”
Bucky had arranged a driver to take the both of you to dinner. You both kept the conversation light, but truthfully, you were a little uncomfortable. Not because Bucky was creepy or anything, but you weren’t used to this type of treatment. The flowers, getting dressed up, a chauffeured ride, it was just a little overwhelming.
The car pulled up to Luxe, one of the most sought restaurants in Manhattan. People made reservations months in advance.
“You just happen to have a reservation at Luxe?” you scoffed, looking over at Bucky. “Do they shove another couple out when you call?” you joked.
“You don’t have to call when you already have a table,” Bucky mentioned before stepping out of the car. The driver opened your door. As you began to step out of the SUV, you were met by Bucky holding out a hand for you. You put your hand in his to help you exit the SUV. Bucky whispered something to the driver before taking your hand in his again, leading you to the restaurant. “Stick around, doll. You’ll get used to it,” he winked.
Bucky was definitely right, there was a table for him. It was actually in a room that looked secluded from the restaurant. There were a couple of what looked like high power men and women. Some nodded to Bucky as he guided you to a table.
Yeah, you definitely felt out of place.
The hostess sat you at a table, leaving you both with menus. Just by glancing at the prices, your eyes widened greatly.
“You seem tense,” Bucky finally mentioned. 
You lightly chuckled, “Is it that obvious?”
Bucky reached his hand out to yours, holding it, and then giving it a squeeze, “Everyone in this room has had to fake it because they didn’t think they belonged at least once in their life. It’s uncomfortable, and frankly, sucks.” You chuckled. “Now, it's your turn, Y/N. Just imagine that it’s just you and me here.”
This thumb grazed your hand, bringing you a sense of comfort. You took a deep breath, “Okay,” you muttered. Bucky smiled at you before letting go of your hand. In that moment, you kind of missed the contact. “So, you’re telling me that even the great James Barnes had to fake it once?”
He nodded, “As soon as I graduated college, I joined the army as a lieutenant. I did that for a few years, but when I was discharged and came home, my dad wanted me to take over his business,” Bucky explained. You were genuinely surprised. Bucky as a lieutenant was an entirely different view. “I went from some college frat guy to a lieutenant in the army to a businessman. I didn’t know where I belonged for the longest time, y’know? So, I just started to pretend that I belonged everywhere, even here.”
“No, I get what you mean, and that’s smart,” you smiled, but you knew you had to ask. “And by business, you mean…”
Bucky huffed and smirked, “Building Barnes Construction, actually. Why do you ask?” he asked, giving a knowing look. This was a question he was used to. He was aware of his reputation.
You smirked as well, “Well, you know how people like to gossip.”
As drinks and dinner were ordered, the conversation between you and Bucky seemed to flow easily. You discussed work, your childhoods, your goals, and you even squeezed in some jokes here and there. You were pleased to know he was still close with his parents, especially his mother and had a sister. He was more family-oriented than you imagined. And to your surprise, Bucky was surprisingly funny and knew how to take a joke; he definitely knew how to dish ‘em too. There were a few moments when either of you would laugh too loud, drawing attention from the other high rollers in the place. But neither of you cared. Like Bucky said: it was only you two in the room right now. Often, Bucky would touch your hand, a sign of affection or reassurance. But overall, it was the way Bucky looked at you. He looked at you like he needed to draw your face from memory later and listened if every word mattered. It was nice for once, maybe one of the best dates you had been on. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought you were on a date with a regular guy.
You even suggested dessert as a last ditch effort to keep the date going. Usually, after a date, you wanted to get the bill and move on, but this was different. Bucky happily obliged; he also wanted to extend this date for as long as he could. But neither of you would admit that.
“I’ve never had crème brulee, but that was damn good,” you gushed as Bucky handled the bill.
“This isn’t even the best spot for it,” Bucky told you as he placed cash on the table. “There’s this place by my townhouse, and it’s almost as good as getting it in France,” he mentioned as he stood up.
“Well, I can’t afford authentic French crème brulee, but I’d always be down for something local,” you admitted.
Bucky took your hand into his as to help you up, “Maybe that can be arranged.”
He walked you out of the restaurant to be exposed to the night sky and the fresh air. Bucky texted his driver to pull around, and he moved with a haste, pulling the car up within a minute. Bucky got you in before joining you in the back seat.
On the way back to your apartment building, you and Bucky just discussed upcoming plans in your life mainly when you both were working next. But for the love of you, you just wished this car would drive a little slower. As much as you wanted to see Bucky again, you weren’t exactly ready to eat crow and admit it.
The SUV pulled up to your apartment, and Bucky was adamant about walking you up to your door. You felt like you had no choice but to agree, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
“I hate to admit, but I had a really great time, Bucky,” you told him.
A smile creeped on his face. Bucky bit his lip in order to contain it, “Yeah? Well, what are the chances I could get a second date?”
The elevator door opened and you and Bucky walked down the hallway. You felt your cheeks go red and smiled, “Uh well, they aren’t low, presay.” 
“I don’t gamble often, but I’d say I like my odds.” You both finally approached your door and you turned to face your date.
“I like them, too.” You couldn’t help but to look at his lips as he smiled at your comment. “Well, this is me.”
Bucky nodded and took one step closer to you, “So, I guess this is good night?” he questioned. You nodded slightly. “It doesn’t have to be, doll.” He pulled you closer by the small of your back. 
You breath hitched in your throat when you felt the contact and his pelvis very dangerously close to yours. Bucky was looking for your reaction, any sign of resisting. But you just looked up at him through your lashes. He tilted your chin up with his ringed finger, his lips within reach of yours.
That was enough for you to make contact yourself. It was soft and slow. It was the chance for you both to explore each other a little more on a different level. Bucky’s left hand stayed on the small of your back while the other gravitated from your cheek, his thumb just grazing the pulse on your neck. You had your right hand on his chest while the other dragged along his bulked arms that his suit couldn’t even hide. 
You didn’t mean for the kiss to last this long, becoming more hungry as you both continued. At this point, Bucky was all in, dragging his tongue across your bottom lip, practically begging for entrance. You didn’t mean to let that happen either, but you were melting under his touch. 
“I think…I think I really…need to go,” you muttered between kisses, trying to catch your breath. 
Bucky backed off a little bit, resting his forehead on yours, “Yeah, yeah…that’s probably best…” The hand that was caressing your cheek was now trailing down your waist, sending chills down your body. “Right?”
“Right. What kind of a girl do you take me for, James?” you jokingly asked.
“The kind that obviously is trying to get in my pants,” he jokingly shot back. 
“Then I don’t see why I have to try so hard.” You both shared a laugh as you unlocked your door and opened it. “Have a good night, James.” You gave him a smile before closing the door, leaving Bucky on the outside.
You took a very deep breath and tried to compose yourself after that kiss. That kiss, that date, you were sure it topped that $1000 tip. You turned around just to see Nat in the living room, staring at you with her eyes wide. You stared back, the excitement and details about to come out like word vomit.
“How the hell was it?”
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Bucky felt like he was on top of the world as he rode down the elevator. It took him everything in his power to not sleep with you. There was nothing wrong with sleeping with someone on the first date, but he also didn’t wanna give you the wrong idea.
As soon as exited the elevator, he pulled out his phone to make a call. The phone rang as he stepped outside until he finally got an answer.
“Hey, Ma. How’re you doing?” he asked, his Brooklyn accent really kicking in. “That’s great, that’s good. But uh listen. I met this woman, and ma, she’s…I can’t even describe her, ma. It’s like fucking heaven talking to—I know, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to swear! I just think I understand what you and dad would also talk about when you met, y’know?
And for the rest of the night, both you and Bucky gushed over each other. But of course, neither of you would admit that to the other.
I’m a slut for feedback so send me some! xx
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wanduhhh · a month ago
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Don’t Be So Cocky 18+
Wanda/Reader (one shot)
Summary: teasing Wanda the night before a neighbourhood barbecue was not in your best interests. Wanda has no shame.
Tw: smutty smut smut, mommy wanda, strap on, wanda being a cocky little shit, poor reader being a dumb baby x (my not proofread words that I wrote after a terrible sleep)
Thank you @moonlightkiara37 for the delicious prompt 😌🤌🏼 and for forcing me to write something after about 10 years.
Also now that I’m not shadow banned- my requests are open 💋
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Every time you took a bite of the cookie in your hand, it was like everyone in the room stopped to look at you as you crunched. Your cheeks were bright red, so far in your anxiety filled mind that you couldn’t register the fact that there was only one person in the room with their eyes fixed on you.
Wanda Maximoff stood at the other side of the garden, dozens of people separating the two of you; yet her eyes burned into the side of your head. You tried and failed to ignore her, getting so flustered that you dropped the last bite of your cookie onto the artificial grass. You could basically hear her laughing at your pout.
A neighbourhood barbecue in the plastic suburbs was enough to have anyone scratching at the back of their neck, but that coupled with having an affair in a street where everyone knows what you had for breakfast; bone crushing anxiety.
Wanda Maximoff had tiptoed her way into your daily routine, casually coming by with homemade pies and cupcakes that she just happened to have made way too many of. From daily coffee dates to eventual wine nights together; the two of you were inseparable.
There was one issue though, quite a substantial one at that. You were both married, in fact the reason you could have so many wine nights where the two of you wound up a little too close, was because your husbands’ happened to be very good friends.
The amount of golfing trips they went on together seemed too good to be true. One time you had thought about it too much, with your head buried under Wanda’s skirt getting so distracted wondering whether or not Wanda set up those trips just to get you to herself. Your tongue had been swirling aimlessly around her clit for what felt like hours before she snapped, grabbing you by the hair so she could look into your glazed eyes. “Are you too dumb to fuck me properly, do I have to do everything myself?”
You lay your questions to rest and got straight back to work, she came in your mouth within 2 minutes, but slapped the smug look right off of your face.
Despite Wanda’s obvious success at getting rid of your husbands’ whenever she wanted, it seemed it had not worked for the barbecue. That or she wanted the excitement of them being present. She was a little dramatic that way.
She had gotten pretty good at acting like the best of friends in front of other people, you on the other hand were hopeless. A stuttering mess if she so much as told you she liked the dress you were wearing. And who could blame you when the last time she said that to you in that dress, you had been bent over the dining room table with her fingers inside you.
Your inability to act casual with her was worsened by the previous night. Wanda had been missing you, telling you how much she wanted to see you wet for her over the phone. Husband in bed asleep just to her left. She had broken your resolve down and before you knew it, you were sending her videos of you trying and failing to make yourself come. A whining mess in your own guest room, as your husband snored away next door.
Wanda had mocked you for not being able to finish yourself off, claiming how badly you needed her and how you were just a “dumb little baby who can’t do anything without mommy’s help”. She was right of course, but the disappointment of not being able to come had you in a petulant mood. You had text her back saying you were thinking about asking your husband for help, and then went to sleep and ignored the incessant vibrations coming from your phone.
You knew you would regret it, and regret it you did. Wanda had come to the barbecue in red slacks and a sheer black blouse, black heels that were a little too high for a casual get together. No one else batted an eye at her attire, but you had come to know Wanda to only wear slacks when she had a surprise with your name on it.
It seemed impatience had gotten the better of the redhead and she marched towards you, whispering into your ear to meet her in the bathroom in 5. You knew not to push her further, so you got there 4 minutes later.
She was leaning against the sink, legs spread and arms crossed as she watched you fumble to lock the door, eyes cast downward.
She tutted at your guilty posture and moved towards you to grab your face in one of her hands. Fingers squishing your cheeks together and forcing your eyes to meet hers.
“Not so cocky now are you baby? What’s the matter, can’t look at mommy after you’ve been bad hmm?” You fixed her with your best doe eyes, hoping to dilute some of her rage.
But it did nothing as she grabbed you by the throat and forced you to your knees. Your arms dangled at your sides, not daring to touch without her permission. “Go on slut, I’m sure you know exactly what to do; what with all your experience“. You were eating your words from last night when you pulled at her slacks and eyed up the size of the strap she had chosen.
Way bigger than anything she had given you before, your eyes watered at the sight of it. Throat closing up involuntarily. “Mommy I- it’s. I don’t think I can” she looked at you with a condescending pout, hand raking through your hair. “Don’t worry baby, I think you can” chuckling lightly at your worried face before pulling you forward by the hair.
You tried to ease the strap into your mouth, widening your lips to accommodate it- but Wanda was not in a patient mood. Pushing your head down further until you were gagging around the silicone, spit dribbling down your chin. “Fuck see, I know what you can take. I know exactly what you need bunny, better than anyone else”.
Her words had you mewling, nuzzling closer to the base the more you thought about her stretching you open. She fucked your mouth for a few more minutes and you listened intently to her laboured breaths, knowing she was getting closer with every press against her clit.
Just as you heard the telltale sounds of her orgasm approaching, she pulled you off with a pop. Groaning as she watched the spit pool around your mouth. “Up” she ordered, but it was pointless as she had already grabbed you by your underarms anyway. Swivelling around and lifting you to rest on the sink.
You winced as your bare ass touched the cold porcelain, but it was nothing compared to your gasp as she thrust the strap inside you in one motion. Gritting your teeth, nails digging into her shoulders as you attempted to adjust to the size. She allowed you a second, meeting your eyes to silently check in with you.
At your first slight nod, she started pounding into you at an unforgiving pace. Your head bouncing off the mirror behind you every time she slammed back inside you.
“Such a good little slut, not so cocky today are you baby?” She grunted into your ear. You could feel the jealousy pulsing through her, punctuated by the bruising force she was using to fuck you. “Who do you belong to hmm?” She breathed into your ear, gripping the lobe between her teeth and biting down when you failed to reply. “You- fuck. Only you mommy”.
“That’s right, no one else can make you come like this. No one else is allowed to touch you like this, right bunny?” You agreed with her with babbles of “yes mommy” in between deep moans. You were so so close, more than making up for your frustrating night, the feel of Wanda had you intoxicated.
Completely oblivious to the sounds you were making, it was enough to make any one of your nosy neighbours come to investigate the relentless banging noises. But as fate would have it, the one nosy neighbour that decided to check; was your own husband.
Naivety and his own ego had him imagining you in distress, needing a brave man to come and save you. He pushed open the door to the bathroom; the creak had you realising that your earlier fumbling was fruitless. “Honey are you- oh my god. Wanda?” Your head snapped round to see his wide eyed face. Cheeks flush with a cocktail of rage and embarrassment. You were at a loss for words.
Unluckily for both of you, Wanda had it covered. Not stopping her thrusts for a mere second, she flipped her hair over to the side and met your husband’s eyes. “Oh hi Ted, y/n will be done in a minute” she fixed him a wink and looked back over to you; cockiness oozing from her.
You closed your eyes and accepted your fate.
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swtki · 9 months ago
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Handsome Devil - P.P
masterlist
Pairing: Andrew Garfield! College! Peter Parker x Fem! Reader.
Summary: Peter would like to get your head in the conjugal bed.
Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Smut, swearing, nerds flirting, study date, no established relationship, oral sex (f+m), tit man! Peter, dirty talk, degrading, teasing, penetrative (vaginal) sex, unprotected sex, slightly (?) public as its a dorm room with thin walls, fingering, both parties are switches, use of she/her pronouns for reader, pull out method, size kink (he is always bigger no matter your size), let me know if I missed any!
A/N: This song makes me feel some typa way im ngl
Handsome Devil - Hatful of Hollow - The Smiths
Her back was flat against his dorm rooms floor, while Peter himself was sitting at his desk and avoiding eye contact.
“Aha!” she exclaimed, sitting up with a fast and smooth motion, “I got it! Take a look, calculus god Parker.” She handed her notebook to him and his eyes scan the page.
“Good.” He said softly. Why in the world did he agree to help Y/N out with her studying? He struggled to even talk to her in passing, why did he sign himself up for 1 hour every Wednesday and Thursday alone with her. In his room, no less.
“Good? C’mon Parker, look how far I’ve come because of you. I really am so grateful to you, how can I make it up to you?” She shifted on her knees, which made her shirt ride up and expose her hip just enough. Peter quickly looked away and felt his face heat up.
“Don’t worry about it, glad to help.” He swallowed hard, and she knew he was never going to come out and say that he wanted her flush against him, clothes nowhere to be found.
“I know you’ve been looking at me, Peter.” He froze as she started to stand up.
“Wha-?” He starts.
“I pretend to not notice all those times you look down my shirt, or stare at my ass when I bend over.”
“I am so sorry, I feel so gross and I mean obviously that was such a violation of your personal-“ he took a deep breath and with innocent puppy-like eyes said, “I’m sorry.”
She giggled and stood a few inches from a still sitting Peter, “Peter, it’s okay. It flattered me in a weird, Peter specific way.” For the first time all day, he looked her in the eyes.
“I really like you, Y/N.”
“Can I kiss you?” She put her hands on his shoulders.
“Please.” He said quietly. Y/N leaned down, placing her soft lips on his. To say that the pair had both been dreaming about this for a while would be an understatement. Slowly, he put his hands on her waist, deepening the kiss. They were both very careful to not overstep. She finally pulled away for air, leaving him red-faced and panting. She linked her hand in with his, and gently tugged, signaling that she wanted him to get up. He complied, towering over her as soon as he stood. He bent his head down to kiss her once more, this time the pair ventured to the bed.
Her hands snaked up to his scalp, pulling at the locks of brown hair that covered it. A small groan left Peters throat, causing her panties to pool even more. When he put his hands on her hips, the flame that was inside of her had petrol poured on top of it. He pulled away, moving to her neck. Her mouth was agape as he left sloppy kisses along her jaw all the way to her collarbone. He was careful not to leave any marks, worrying that it would backfire on him.
He looked up at her, and pointed to her blouse, “Can I?”.
“Only, if you do too.” She was a bit shy, which was funny considering she was the one to initiate the encounter. He smiled, sitting back on his knees and pulling his t-shirt off. She did the same, leaving her bra untouched. “Touch me, please.” She begged.
He didn’t need to be told twice, gently groping her tit through the foam cup. His pants were getting tighter by the minute. He decided to forgo the embarassing trial of a front clasp or ,even worse, a back one; He pulled her garment down just enough to let her nipples feel the cold air and harden. Without hesitation, his mouth latched onto her left breast, kneading the other with his hand. Small whimpers left Y/N’s mouth. As much as he felt like he could spend eternity with his mouth full of tit, he wanted to move on.
“Y/N, can I go down on you, baby? ‘Wanna taste you.” She let out a shaky breath and hummed a yes.
He kept going lower, kissing her torso as he went. Carefully, he unzipped her skirt, using the last of his self control not to rip it off. With the image of his brown eyes looking up from between her legs burned into her head, she let out a shaky breath.
As he kissed her inner thigh, his thumb gently rubbed her through her panties. A quiet moan left her body, causing peter to press a bit harder. Once he decided he had waited just about as long as he could, he hooked his strong fingers around the elastic and pulled them off of her.
The way her cunt almost dripped, the way she already looked so blissed out, it was almost too much.
Her eyes were closed, but opened when he licked a flat tongued stripe. He lapped at her, the sweet taste flooding his mouth.
“Peter, keep doing that please!”
“You like it? Tell me what you want, baby?” He went back to rubbing the nerves lightly.
“Peter, I-“ she let out a harsh groan as he pressed harder with his thumb. “Please, need you to- oh!” She couldn’t get a full sentence out.
“Need me to..?” he teased.
“Fuck, please keep rubbing my pussy!” He smirked and did as she said, the coil in her belly ready to snap. As he sped his thumb up, she felt herself come undone for the first time that day. It was a sight to behold, her back arched, eyes rolled back into her head, a high pitched whine filling his ears. He slowed his movements as she came down, kissing the inside of her thigh once more.
“Think you can return the favor, sweet girl?” He sat back, gesturing to the prominent bulge straining against the denim.
“Mhm.” She was too weak to speak, but sat up and snaked herself onto the floor. Her fingers skillfully popped the button and unzipped the jeans, he lifted his hips as she pulled them down. “Are these,” She narrowed her eyes, “Comic book boxers?”. He blushed and smiled. “Would’a guessed as much.” She gently stroked him through the fabric, pulling a soft whimper from him. As her eyes looked up at him, he knew he would be in trouble. Though the spider powers provided a record breaking libido, he feared that he would bust in that moment.
Her hand crept under the elastic, feeling the warm and hard length in the palm of her hand. Without hesitation, her tongue ran along the prominent vein. With a whimper, his hands flocked to her hair, making her scalp sting in a strange way. As she wrapped her lips around the thick tip and pushed him down her throat, tears stinged at her eyes. She came up, and went back down; each time more spit accumulating on his cock and her face. She maintained eye contact with Peter, watching as he could barely keep them open. Without warning, he lightly yanked her back and off of him, leaving her on the floor; panting and painted with her own saliva.
“Come lay down, baby.” He patted the mattress and she did as told, too tired to say anything. “Oh!” He stopped and it snapped her out of the trance she was in, “I don’t have a condom.” He looked disappointed.
“I’m clean.” She looked at him through lustful lenses. He got the hint and lined himself up with her, watching as her back arched with each inch pushed in. As he bottomed out, he pushed away the strong urge to fuck her dumb, he needed to be gentle; at least for now.
Slowly, he snapped his hips to hers, quiet whimpers leaving both parties mouths. Her eyes were threatening to sink closed, but the way she fought to keep them open was something he couldn’t describe. “Peter, stop holding back.” She said softly, her hand on his shoulder.
“Sorry.” He smiled and blushed, embarrassed that she wasn’t enjoying it as much as he was. He sped up, struggling to lift himself off of her, eventually just collapsing and clinging her body to his. Chest to chest, he could feel the heat radiating from her. The grip she had on his shoulder tightened and her eyes screwed shut, she was close. The grip her body had on him grew tighter and tighter with each passing minute, and he knew she could come undone under him any minute so he put his hand to work, rubbing her clit harshly. She moaned and her eyes rolled back. He could see the fireworks erupting from her body, making his hips falter and abdomen tighten. She almost said something when he pulled out, but the hot drips of cum that dripped down her lower stomach told her anything she would need to know.
Pressing his forehead to hers, he left a small kiss on her chapped lips. “Oh fuck sorry!” He quickly climbed off of her, grabbing a towel from his closet, “Here.” She grabbed it from him and wiped up the sticky liquid, a thick silence coating the room.
“Peter I-“ she started but stopped, reaching for her shirt and underwear, “I don’t want this to be a one off.”
His breath caught in his throat, “Shit, neither do I.” He said with a chuckle. “I just hope you can focus on the textbook now that you’ve cum.” 
She rolled her eyes, “You know you’re the devil, right?”
“A handsome devil, Y/N.”
Like my work? Reblog it so others can too! When you interact, I know i’m not doing this for nothing.
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virginburial · 5 months ago
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.·:*¨༺    sextape.      ♱   bucky barnes ༻¨*:·.
SUMMARY: in which you bother your upstairs neighbor or alternatively, in which you, a cam girl, try to do your job and accidentally wake up your neighbor
SHIP: fem reader!bucky barnes, FATWS bucky barnes WARNINGS: explicit content, mentions of sex work, mentions of daddy issues, explicit language, random story-telling/plot
WORD COUNT: 4.8K SONG: https://open.spotify.com/track/4rEGJ9KirDlKiOHxqVwcVg?si=a3c34ab37c7749d0
A/N: hi everyone! Buffy here, this is my first oneshot on here that will be posted on ao3 and wattpad later in the week. i know this concept is kind of unrealistic but it’s also the best idea i had for bucky bc i’m writing him for clout, it was hard to think of anything else. i apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes. forgot to mention that i’m super adhd and get my letters and grammar confused. not even accidentally dropping 144 bucks on Grammarly can save me :,)) REBLOGS, NOTES, AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED !!
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                                                     .·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.
"Alright! should we go with option one or two?"
You weren't always the outgoing type, and when you were, you were most likely in your element; but nothing could compare to how very much 'in the zone' webcamming made you. Things have been different since you were able to move on out of your childhood home; your lack of world experience hit you hard. of course, the blip added to the economic stress of it all, but you were so sure that when everyone came back, everything would be normal again, right? Something had to give. Next thing you know, you got fired from your barista job because of the workplace blip act - basically ensuring that the blipped got their jobs back. Their livelihoods. As if you haven't been scraping for your own since they all dissipated to nothing. Whatever, you were over it now. Or you presumed you were. It used to be so easy to find a job, but webcamming wasn't your final option; there was always working for the city's sewer system - yeah, fuck that.
Besides, as complicit-in-your-own-oppression being a woman may seem, the false illusion of having control over your body felt somewhat empowering. You never were big on your sexuality until you discovered webcamming, and it gave you the confidence to treasure the wonders of the sex world - sex work wasn't fun for everyone, but you were happy it was fun for you. Consider yourself privileged. It went from being scared to taking off your shirt, to randomly buying fun wigs and toys to wear and mess around with during your shows. Rent would be on the back burner as corsets and vibrators started to rack up a bill with your bank. It didn't matter, though, men were throwing money at you, and it all comes back; a complete cycle.
Sure, there were the downsides, like dealing with someone who lacked respect or was just indecent, but that was the magic of the internet or at least chaturbate.com. All you had to do was block them. You were laying it all out there, and there was nothing they could do or say to make you feel any more naked. It did hurt still. And it does ruin the overarching mood of the so-called performance-please don’t try to do that thing where you settle for webcamming over an acting career ... it's just sad. Like broadway, hecklers get ushered out, and the show always continues. Then it goes all over the place. Either way, it happens.
Nonetheless, you were still you, just with a new hobby. It's no different than being a writer or a painter, someone who got a hold of art the way they want to see it. The point is, you were still you, but you were finally home in your skin, and at the end of it all, the digital footprint will become privatized by law, so we can't snoop in on what Mark Zuckerberg or Grimes is doing. Everything matters, and it doesn't, so you go with toy number two despite the comments telling you to use toy number one. You were a tease like that, and you loved making those paypigs wait until frustration because of the payout. It was just a basic vibrator with the craziest settings imaginable. You tested it out before the show, and it already made you weak enough not even to consider it. But you did because you learned the fun way not to judge a book by its cover.
The cam girls get to have personalized websites for their business, and you took it upon yourself to make the website so very much yourself. You didn't have to pretend with your audience. think of it like MySpace. You even had a bit of having scene aesthetic to your site, but it was all centered around you. You, you, you, what would your audience ever do without you?
You slowly set the vibrator on high, the words are in Japanese, and you managed to memorize some of the characters to know what it means, spreading your legs open to reveal skimpy pink laced panties that complimented your skin color. There was already a puddle forming on the base of your panties from earlier and then throughout the day. Mainly because you and your neighbor were chatting up about the new upstairs neighbor. The man seemed disheveled and gloomy, almost like a lost puppy, and you had a thing for strays. You wouldn't say it out loud today because everyone is so political, but you liked the idea of fixing someone. You were probably projecting and wished someone would correct you, but putting all that energy into someone becoming better, helping them, that interested you. Cry for help, probably? Not like anyone could hear over the excessive amount of moaning you were doing. Either way, he looked sad; you liked sad, repressed trauma aside, you thought he was handsome. Then you let the thought of him simmer down in your mind, which was a mistake on your part, leading down to you concluding that your attractiveness towards older men was either your father's or Lana del Rey's fault. Somehow.
You began fidgeting at the sensations rolling through your body as you tried to keep your thighs from squeezing shut, but it was hard; then the sound of coin slot machines started rolling from the computer. You felt like Schrodinger's dog, the sound triggering you to shut your legs, taking deep breaths as a slight giggle left your mouth. Blood ran to your cheeks like a marathon, causing the chat to compliment how cute you looked when flustered. You peaked at your panties to notice how the puddle suddenly grew into an ocean, flopping back to your bed and turning on the vibrator again. You thought it would be funny if you teased your audience again, flipping the setting up and placing it on the base of your areola as you stared into the camera. Glittery makeup and lipstick smudged as your blonde wig threatened to fly off. You let it slowly trail down your stomach - the vibrations from your abdomen were already setting you off - steadily going down south until you heard three loud knocks on your door.
"Shit!" You whisper under your breath as the chat freaks out with you. You look at the chat and try to remain calm; this usually never happens. One; because your neighbors don't care, and two, you're never that loud. you weakly smile. "I'm going to put the show on hold, i'll be right back, Lovelies." you kiss the camera, saying it all with a defeated tone as you quickly pause the show. You grab the pink cheetah robe you've had since you were fifteen - back when you had a bit of a princess aesthetic - and ran to the door, struggling to put it on as you made sure you covered just about everything. damnit, son of a bitch cunt whore slut, the colorful words started to pile up in your mind as you reached for the front door. you have got to be fucking kidding me
in all his exhausted glory; there he is, the mysterious upstairs neighbor
he looks timid, almost like he didn't want to bother you. meanwhile, all the blood from your cheeks went directly back to your cunt. "hello, um..." he sighs softly. "I haven't really set up my bed yet; I kind of just have this mattress that's on the floor." the look in his eyes screamed 'why did I bring that up??' as you tug on your robe. "so I can hear everything, and I haven't been able to get some sleep." you heard him just fine, but you were to busy to notice what he was wearing; grey sweatpants and a black tank top; yes, he was packing. The thing that caught you the most off guard besides his sweet-raspy voice was his metal arm. You grew up in a small town with a vast military population, so you knew and had family and were friends with people who had prosthetics. His, however, was strange. The metal was much more refined, it looked very, very, very expensive. You might just be assuming, but why does a man with such a costly arm live in the dump you live in? just a thought as you avert your gaze back to him. "I'm so sorry, i'll be sure to keep the noise down... i-i don't have any guests, it's just ... me." why the fuck would you say that?! you scold yourself as the man cracks a small smile and looks down at your robe. "cool...?" he says in the same tone.
you start to fumble. "I-I'm sorry I-I dunno why I said that sometimes my mouth is faster than my brain-especially in situations like this." you ramble a bit. Make. This. Less. Awkward. I'm. Begging. You. "I'm Y/N, by the way."
The man still has the small smile he had from your confession. He seemed rather amused at how quickly you shattered in his presence. you couldn't tell if it was attractive or unbelievable how someone could look like a nirvana song. "Bucky." he introduces himself, and suddenly, the mystery is solved; his name is Bucky. he then points to the wig struggling to stay on your head. "I'm guessing you're ... cosplaying is the word, right?" he takes a pause. "cosplaying Hannah Montana-" "-oh no no no." you take off the wig, revealing your loose and messy bun/braids, a few pieces of your hair falling to your face as you, in sitcom fashion, throw the wig to the side. "I'm... I'm an actress," you say confidently. You two just kind of stand there looking at each other before your maternal instincts kick in, it's midnight, and he looks tired. You bite your lip hesitantly. "come in, I can make you some tea. It's the least I can do for waking you up." you open the door a little for him, not giving him a chance to reject you as you reveal how snug and perfect the robe fit around all your curves. he noticed that. And just like that, he strolls into your home.
You go to the kitchen, your thighs rubbing with every step - just reminding you that you were still on the clock and that you were still very, very, very desperate for some touch. You just had to make Bucky some tea now, did you? You grab the sleepytime tea box that sat elegantly on your microwave and fill the mug with the words; "maybe swearing will help" printed with water. Making tea was damn near ritualistic. You can't help but feel Bucky's presence, though. Lurking in the shadows and looking at all the fun knick-knacks you collected. You turn to him. "so, you from New York?" you ask.
he nods. "Brooklyn born and raised. I just came back from living in Wakanda for some time. Also spent a little time here and there..." no actual specifics besides Wakanda and Brooklyn. "you from Brooklyn?" he asked, but you shook your head. "small-town girl, I'm from the south. I moved up here during the blip." you explained. Bucky nodded. "to become an actress? Like on broadway?" he asks.
He remembered your white lie. How sweet. You squeeze your thighs a little and gulp. "n-no." you laugh a little. "I came here to get away from losing my brother in the blip and start school. I'm studying biochemical engineering. I wanted to study theatre and the arts, but my dad told me that it was a waste of a college education and that he wouldn't pay if I went and did theatre. but now that my brother is back, he can focus on ruining his life instead of mine..." you ramble a bit before seeing the look on Bucky's face. he was intrigued at the little spice you were able to throw in the conversation. you bite your lip. "sorry, I shouldn't be trauma dumping on you like that...dad's, yknow?" he nods in agreement. "but i've always wanted to be an actress-"
"so, you're not an actress? you're a biochemical engineer student?"
You feel a pang of guilt for lying, but you realize now that you should probably tell him, considering that he's your neighbor, and warn him about the cons of your newfound profession, such as the noise and noise complaints. you scrunch your nose and tilt your head to the side. "I am, but not in the traditional sense ... I'm a porn actress, webcam, actually. I started a couple of months ago after losing my job after the blip." you keep it short and sweet, turning over to the microwave to fetch him his tea before turning back around, you didn't want to see his reaction, but you did, and he looked relatively unfazed. Most men scream and run in the other direction, weak, but Bucky... doesn't care. You decide to change the topic. "what about you? why are you here?"
"...I was in the Army, just came back to get my life back on track, have to do court-mandated therapy now. I should hate it, but a small part of me is glad I'm going." court-mandated therapy? no wonder he's unfazed by a cam girl. "I'm sorry, I know what pornography is, but you said you did webcamming? what...is that?"
you narrow your eyes at him. "you...don't know what caming is?"
He shakes his head. "nope. I'm old-fashioned, don't even have those fancy smartphones." he says as he pulls out a Nokia. "holy shit." you say as he beholds the ancient relic. this was going to be good. Suddenly, you felt your clit throb as he glanced at your robe; you couldn't help but want to show him. You suddenly remembered all the thoughts you left on the back burner about him, simmering down until it boiled and exploded. You were at your boiling point,.your cheeks turned red as you pulled out your phone, going to your site as he keeps staring at you. he could tell, he could tell that you were holding out; considering that you were standing right in front of him and you had your legs crossed. You didn't want to show him your old shows, but at the same time, you didn't want to show him anyone else. If he was going to watch, it had to be you somehow. You pressed on your most recent one from two days ago, skipping ahead before showing off yourself in a sexy nurse costume. You pull the phone away before he gets to peek, though. "you sure you want to see this?" you asked for his consent.
bucky nervously laughs, his smile suddenly getting cheeky as he rubs his chin. "I mean, Y/N, you're showing me pornography-not like I haven't seen it before." his smile slowly turns to a smirk. He was so shy at first, maybe you said too much, overspilled, but no, that wasn't the case. he wasn't getting comfortable with you. He was somewhat charming you. or at least, appeared that way. "cmon, you can show me." he smirks softly at you.
Fuck. Me.
Without hesitation, you show him. You could see his pupils dilate right away, his cheeks getting a little pink as Bucky... studies you. He's not engaging in the content, just analyzing it like an accountant. He holds the phone and observes as you start to feel hot, skin sizzling-almost like a hot flash of some kind-as his eyes follow your every move. he glances over at you. "arent your other neighbors concerned about how loud you are?" he asks almost mockingly, teasingly, but he was serious. You shake your head as your moans echo throughout your apartment. "my neighbor on the left is my best friend from middle school, who told me I should look into this. The neighbor on the right is Miss Chen. She's hard of hearing; I told her I had a cat. and the neighbor across the hall, Amelia, is a flight attendant. Lucky, right?" you try to pause the video, but Bucky is mesmerized by your movements. "so all you do is...sit in front of a camera naked? And people just give you money? And it's live? How...innovative." he said like it piqued his interest. you began to laugh nervously as you finally managed to pause it. he could see it, how visibly nervous you got around him. he furrowed his eyebrows. "why so shy? You weren't earlier." his eyes told you everything you needed to know.
You decide to play his game. "first of all, it's not just sitting in front of a camera and looking pretty. Second of all...whatever happened to being old-fashioned? aren’t you going to buy me dinner first before you look at me that way?"
Bucky looks down a bit bashfully, handing you back the phone as you start to question his motives. "is the real reason you came down here was to quiet me down? or something else?" you ask. You had to have asked. You were okay with whatever answer, though. He's hesitating, though, Bucky glances back at you. "well, it's hard for me to sleep regardless, thought I'd be more tired if I came down here then go back up, but I'm wide awake...why? Were you hoping I came down here because you were moaning like that?" he asked. The conversation was starting to cross the rhetorical-question-turned-confession territory. A small part of you wanted to say yes; ever since he moved in last week, you'd cross paths with him, and he'd stay on your mind. But hooking up with your upstairs neighbor? Webcamming was one thing; being with someone, after how lonely the blip was, was another thing. but something about Bucky made your stomach turn into Simone Biles; flips and tricks and jumping through hoops at the mention of or the glances from Bucky. "...moan like what?" you raised an eyebrow, smirking.
Bucky seems hesitant, maybe he didn't want the conversation to continue, but it wasn't until he was staring at the space between your chest did it hit you that maybe he was too shy to make a move. Yet, he looked so eager, something was holding him back. You realized you weren't the only nervous person here. But you had to try, and you had to try to get him. You lean in a little closer. "cmon Bucky, why so shy? You weren't earlier." you mocked him, playfully teasing him as you slowly grabbed his hand. "may I?" you asked him. It only felt right. he nodded his head and watched as you guided his hand down to your core, his calloused fingers running against your inner thigh as you slowly humped on his hand, rubbing your clothed cunt on his rough palms as a soft moan left your lips. he looked at you in awe, almost like he couldn't believe you were real. You keep a steady pace as you hold onto his shoulders, smiling a little at him because his reaction was priceless. "did it sound like that?" you innocently asked as lust glazed over your eyes.
He lets out a shaky breath. "oh .. fuck..." he said in a throaty tone.
You watched him crumble as he grabbed you and smashed your lips against his, teeth hitting teeth as you eagerly kissed him back, his hand staying still on your cunt as its presence set you off. The first thing Bucky does is undo the loose knot on your robe; it's almost like that's what he wanted to do the moment you answered the door. He reveals your breasts, his sweet kisses never breaking from the fact that you were naked besides your wet panties. Your jaw starts to buckle and hurt as your bottom lip turns red from the friction. Bucky pulls away, practically panting as he delicately brushes your hair behind your ear. You can't help but notice that Bucky was still a gentleman in all the tension. Even if you wanted him to pound you. You could tell this was a little unorthodox for him; maybe he truly was old-fashioned, but also very touch starved. You pull him closer by the waistband of his sweatpants, your hand slowly wandering down to his expanding tip as your index and thumb rub it. You could physically see Bucky relax into your touch as he latches on to your neck; soft kisses on your neck before going completely animalistic on your chest.
You let out a soft whine before grabbing his face and passionately kissing him, your thighs squeezing around his hand. You pull away from him, both of you panting as you hold his warm hand, noticing a thin coat of your wetness before dragging him into your room. A piece of you wanted him to bend you over the counter, but you voted against it. that's when Bucky's eyes landed on the computer. "...is it live-?" he asks. You shake your head; webcamming was your thing; it didn't mean it had to be Bucky’s. But Bucky surprises you. for a man who ‘didn't know’ how to use a laptop; he sure worked his way around it. You - laying in your bed and squeezing your thighs, raise an eyebrow and laugh. "what are you doing?" you giggled.
"hitting two birds with one stone."
He quickly finds the GO LIVE button and moves away from the frame, leaving you front and center, watching the views roll in from your loyal fans as Bucky grabs you by your chin and kisses you lustfully. You could feel your skin cry for him as your knees got weak; the kiss was out of the frame, Bucky made sure of it because, god, it would be embarrassing if anyone there recognized him. It wasn't long before you flopped down on the bed and spread your legs for him like magic. You didn't know if it was because he looked like a movie star during the golden age of Hollywood or because of how mysterious he was, but Bucky made you weak. So weak that you didn't care if this was the first and last time he would touch you. You feel his rough fingertips slowly slide off the panties you've soaked, seeing your hole overfilled with your wetness. Bucky slides his warm hand in between your folds, causing you to jerk your hips slightly, trying to keep them down as your chest starts to rise.
Bucky lets out a dry chuckle. "you're sensitive, how...cute." he mocks you.
The disgusting thing about it is that you liked how he mocked you, watching you squirm as he spits down on your clit, saliva hanging from his lips as he leans down and slips his tongue in your mouth. You open your jaw a little more so he could explore your mouth, watching him pull away before feeling the freezing metal from his other arm hit your clit at full force. At this point, that's where your heartbeat was, and the cool metal was making it worse. You gasp and let out a quiet moan as you look into Bucky's eyes; he knew that would get you. watching as you shut your thighs around his arm, he roughly pries them open. "I don't think so." he damn-near growls at you. a chill ran up your spine before feeling two cold fingers slam into your hole, your walls closing in on his index and middle finger as he holds it there. What a fucking tease. your clit was begging for attention as he looked down at you. "not so talkative now, huh?"
You arch your back, practically offering him your body as your eyes beg him to move his fingers, but he doesn't. he keeps them there to remind you of how helpless you indeed were. Not like you didn't know; you were vulnerable for him for a whole week. He slowly moves his fingers out of you, carefully rubbing them on your bottom lip before you eventually obliged and sucked them dry. The sound of coin slot machines echoed in the room as you shakily closed your legs, squeezing them shut before feeling your chest heave - you were already orgasming? To be fair, you have been teasing yourself for a good hour before Bucky waltzed in. a deep moan left your mouth as your thighs shook and coated themselves in your cum. Your back was getting sweaty as your cheeks turned bright pink. Bucky watched as your body compulsed. You could tell he loved the show but was disappointed that it wasn't him making you shake like that.
Bucky watched as your body tried to maintain itself, finally calming down after your rolling orgasm as the sound of coin slot machines went crazy. You weren't letting yourself catch a break as you felt your clit throb for more. That's when you felt Bucky move—dragging you off to the edge of the bed and sitting down. Having you lay across his lap. You've seen and read enough porn to know exactly what was going on and obliged happily. You watched him slowly take off his tank top before making it into a ball and stuffing it in your mouth; a makeshift gag, if you will. Your right-hand touched his chest and feels him up as he keeps you in a comfortable position. Now, you couldn't think about the timid and traditional man that came knocking so he could get some sleep; your mind bombarded with thoughts of the eager and somewhat perverted sweetheart that was helping you relieve yourself after pulling you away.
His hand hits your ass hard, and you gasp and whine in pain, feeling your body tense up as he smacks it again. The noises from the laptop ringing again made you want to follow through on your habit, so bucky spreads your legs and then spanks you, hitting your ass and cunt with full force. Moans with hints of pain muffled through your gag. he seems amused, seeing your clit turn red and raw from the amount of spanking he did; you shake and quiver every time he spanks you and misses; which is often. By then, you were already horny again. Bucky stuffs three fingers in you unexpectedly, causing you to let out a loud moan. His warm hand goes to your mouth, covering it and shoving the gag deeper into your mouth, causing the fabric to tickle your throat and gag reflexes. Tears come to your eyes as Bucky decides to tease you by leaving them in there. again.
You feel the walls close in on his fingers and ache for them to move, so when he finally does drive them, you feel a wave of euphoria hit you. He curled his fingers as the metal slid in and out of you, causing you to spill out in moans. You were almost glad he improvised a gag because it would be embarrassing if your neighbor, Miss Chen, realized you didn't have a cat. Your heartbeat begins to steady itself, something you were grateful for before Bucky places his cold thumb on your clit and rubbed you like he was playing a scratch-off lottery ticket. It felt like a dam broke between your thighs as you wiggled and tried not to give in so quickly. But you couldn't help it. He was overstimulating you to the extreme.
Your thighs begin to shake as a tear or two rolls down your cheek from how overwhelming it felt, but you couldn't imagine yourself being anywhere besides his lap. Feeling him spread you out and spank you as you wiggle more and more for his touch, even if your clit was starting to swell up. Bucky was too preoccupied with you that he probably didn't notice how hard he was getting; your right-hand slides over to his clothed cock as you gently squeeze it, hearing a soft but deep groan as Bucky leaves another red and purple mark on your ass. "take my fingers first, then we'll see." he raspily tells you, but you knew you weren't going to last long. You longed to have him inside of you.
And he knows.
he knows you won't last that long either, maybe he's alluding to round two? not that you had the energy to think coherent thoughts as a tsunami wave of pleasure hits you. heavy breaths as your chest rises and falls flat, as you creamed all over his hand, your cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson as his curled fingers hits the right spot one last time. if heaven was a place on earth, it was on this man's lap. you look at him, your eyes glossed over and your cheeks red as Bucky pulls out the balled up tank top out of your mouth. you pant and looked over to your laptop screen, seeing the money you made rack up more and more. speechless, you glimpsed at bucky before planting a sweet kiss on his lips, only for him to glance at you and say:
"guess I can finally sleep now."                                                    .·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.
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rae-gar-targaryen · 8 months ago
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amor fati [druig x fem!eternals reader]
A/N: Ya girl is back and officially posting writing again. I know it's been a while, but thank you for sticking with me. I didn't think I'd write for Marvel again, but, well, like all of you, I was just taken by Barry's performance as Druig, who (along with Makkari) quickly stole the whole movie for me. Keep an eye out for an upcoming TASM!Spidey and/or Matt Murdock fic, as well. Might as well go full-tilt Marvel now… 
This piece is probably a cliché, but oh well. I hope you like! Please tell me what you liked, what you didn't, and what, if anything, I should do for Druig in the future. There is a playlist for this, as well. 
Reblogs are always appreciated! 
Pairing: Druig x fem eternal!reader (Reader’s legend is that of Artemis, the hunter goddess. No Y/N); some Drukkari x reader, if you're looking. 
Word Count: 16.1k of eternal love, the stuff that poems are made of, and my usual abuse of simile and metaphor. Cotton candy sweetness -- but careful, lest it dissolve between your fingertips. Who said romance wasn’t a little tragic? All’s well that ends well.
Warnings: my writing is its own warning, angst, eternals-style heartbreak (y'all have either seen the movie or read enough fic to know that our boy leaves), canon-typical violence, misuse of power. Also? Smut, so 18+ ONLY -- touching, biting, outdoor naughtiness, mutual masturbation, and other things that occur more than once in here, okay? 
Summary: A love for the ages, yours and Druig's feelings for one another have persisted throughout time and distance. Stoic as Druig is, winter snow melts in the light of spring, and a little hunter has held his heart in her hands for millennia. Gently traipses through the plot of the movie.
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---
By starlight, everything was serene. A luminous, crescent crown.
Your awakening was like the warp and the weft, weaving the threads that comprised your personhood through a grandiose loom. It was simultaneously soft and scraping – A yarn-like itch behind your eyelids compelled you to open them, only to be met with a room full of strangers. 
You saw him then -- eyes of twinkling, galactic starlight. Serene. 
You tilted the corner of your lips in a soft smile, hoping to convey similar softness. Welcoming. And his face? His face remained stoic. Passive.
As you would come to learn, as history unfolded, it all was positively Austenian. Dickensian. Shakespearean, maybe?
Here he was: The crystalline-eyed boy with raven hair and blooming-lily skin, so superior in his indifference. Who carried himself with a power that transcended time. A cool, quiet tempest. Burning insight and demand into the deepest corners of a mind, like the golden, fiery sun.   
There you were: The doe-eyed girl. Quick in wit (and to anger), the sharpness of your tongue second only to that of your arrows. Fearsome, to be sure, but soft for him. (As he would be for you). Graceful and generous. A flower known to bloom by the silvery light of the pale moon. 
There was no way to know it when you awoke. But the two of you would be wrapped in one another throughout eternity, as threads pulled tightly around a finger, woven through a loom. But perhaps you had been before then, if man could comprehend a “prior-to” eternity. If you could remember a time before now.
But forever is made of little nows...
Perhaps this is where Austen, Dickens, Shakespeare, and the like would come to draw their inspiration. From the legends of godlike warriors who would cross the universe, if it meant even a moment together. Who guarded and tended the fragile sapling that was the human race. Who stole clandestine moments to bask in one another, exchanging endearments and creating traditions that would become symbols of love throughout time. Everything starts somewhere. 
For the very moment you opened your eyes in the cool, eerie light of the Domo, you were invigorated with purpose. You had awoken with Arishem’s booming voice in your ears, permeating your mind. Dictating to you. To protect the human race of Earth. To defeat the Deviants. 
You padded softly across the chamber, smiling and nodding at your fellow Eternals, introducing yourself as you went, until you stood before him. Rugged, roguish, and still somehow boyish, he stood with his arms clasped behind his back, appraising you. His black armor replete with details of curving, curling red, his eyebrows quirked as he looked down at you, awaiting your word.
You gave him your name, holding out your hand for him to take.
“Druig,” he responded, the lilt of his accent strange and soothing to your ears as he clasped your hand gently in greeting.
You nodded, a warm smile gracing your features as you looped his hand through your arm and made to cross to the nearest window together. 
“Are you excited?” You asked him; the feel of his arm was warm against yours as you took in the marble-like appearance of the planet you were assigned to. Comforting. “This is my first assignment since leaving Olympia … ‘Earth,’ you sighed. “I wonder what it will be like.”
Druig chuckled softly at your eagerness, taking you in as you observed the blue-green planet of Earth through the glass of the Domo. 
Your armor was rosy, copper-like in appearance with striking details of silvery-blue twining its way across your body, as the red did with his. 
Fitting, he thought. That your very warmth should be reflected in the very nature of your kit. Not just anyone would immediately approach Druig and hold his hand. He wasn’t exactly known for his sunny disposition on Olympia. 
Was he? 
Yet, here you stood fearlessly by his side as though you belonged, your eyes shining by the light of space, ethereal. By starlight, everything was serene. 
Not for the first time since he had met you did Druig find himself quirking his brow in assessment of you. Intrigued. For what could someone so seemingly gracious, gentle, do in battle against Deviants, of all things?
“Ta. Well, we’ll know soon enough, won’t we?” Druig answered both your question and his own musings before another voice snapped the moment. 
“It is time,” your leader – Ajak, your mind supplied – spoke. Summoning you all to prepare yourself for the journey to Earth. 
As you took your place alongside the others, you couldn’t help but feel the elation coursing through you. The determination. You would protect this planet with everything you had. Whatever time you had to learn the beings of Earth, and your fellow Eternals, was like a book waiting to be pored over.  Your lives stitched together, piecemeal, made by some unseen, Celestial force. Woven. Throughout eternity, woven. 
How could you have known just how much, little hunter?
— 
In some ways, fighting was as easy as breathing, as weaving. It’s what you were made for, wasn’t it? 
As you and your fellow Eternals progressively cleared each corner of the globe from the Deviant infestation, you learned to operate together. To move as one to defeat the beings that threatened the development of this planet. 
Somewhere along the way, between the immeasurable conjuring of your golden arrows to fire through the bow you could weave at will, it became, well, fun. Centuries spent side by side with the universe's finest warriors had taught you a thing or two. And as humanity had developed, thanks in part to Sersi's gentle patience and Phastos's ingenuity, so had you.
As Thena and Gilgamesh cut through their enemies like tissue paper, you and Kingo would offer coordinated support through the benefit of distance attacks and hawkish aim. Determined and quick, you never missed. Kingo made for an excellent partner, releasing the beaming power of the sun from his fingertips as though it was nothing. Shooting down Deviants, the two of you covering the backs of your fellow Eternals, and working seamlessly in tandem. 
Kingo would offer you a smirk when he connected with his mark, and hollered a “nice shot,” when you aimed true. Whether the two of you had a running competition as to who could strike the most targets from the greatest distance was for the two of you to know, and for no one else to find out. The tally marks surreptitiously etched into the corner of the Domo were for the two of you alone. 
And Ajak -- a mother in some ways and the commander of a battalion in others -- saw fit that when you weren't fighting the deviants, you spent ample time training to fight deviants. 
It was this training time where you would partner with those Eternals whose skills were the most unlike your own – trying to prod the blur that you knew to be Makkari with a plinking, blunted arrow. Or seeking to best the taciturn Druig in hand-to-hand before he could bewitch you with eyes of molten gold. 
Truth be told, Druig was no slouch at close-quarters combat. But against an opponent with the coordination and entrenched anticipation of an archer? Besting you was no small feat. If he could best you, that is.
The two of you traded blows as easily as you traded quips. Druig, so usually reserved, flourished. He was agile as he jumped and spun to avoid your strikes, twirling around you to make his move.  You dodged his attempted strike to your face, using the momentum to lean back and swing your leg to knock Druig’s from under him. As Druig’s shoulders met the floor, you rolled, fluidly conjuring a small dagger, which you brought to his bare throat. Meeting him with the weight of your forearms against his shoulders to keep him fixed to the floor. 
You beamed down at your quarry, batting your lashes. An innocent smile – for no being with a smile so bright could have done what you just did, right? You? Topple someone so fearsome? Never. 
“Don’t toy with your food,” Kingo called to you teasingly, unable to contain his chuckle at your position over Druig. “Leave the poor boy with some pride, archer.” 
“Pride?” You quirked a brow down at the man below you, shifting your weight to stand above him and offering a hand. “Do you feel proud?” You teased. 
Druig clasped his warm hand into yours, panting lightly with the exertion of sparring, and allowed you to hoist him to his feet. Using the momentum of your pull, he leveraged himself into crowding your personal space, swarming your senses with nothing but Druig as he smirked back at you. 
“Of you? Immensely, hunter,” Druig breathed so that Kingo couldn't hear, the cadence of his accent a pleasant hum against your ears. 
He released your hands, circling you as though preparing to spar once more. As a panther would, replete with inky hair and coiling muscle. 
“You’ve felled your prey bravely. What deviant could stand against you?” 
You snorted, pleased with Druig’s teasing demeanor, a warm little thrum coursing through you. He could be quite charming when he wanted to be. Time and gentle patience had taught you that he wasn’t always as dour as he could be with the others – given the right circumstances. 
Or perhaps the right company?  He was never quite so cross with you or Makkari. 
“Perhaps you think too highly of the threat you pose, dear Druig. For what are men compared to deviants?” you asked, your eyes tracking his progress around you. 
Druig’s pacing ceased at your words, his eyes a brewing storm as he swept a glance up and down your form. Stepping to close the gap between the two of you once more and deliberately brushing his shoulder into yours, he paused to look down at your profile before he passed you by. 
“Be on your guard. I am no mere man, little hunter,” he murmured, leaving your side with a parting wink. 
Your gaze never left Druig as he departed, making his way down the verdant-lit halls of the Domo. Leaving your body buzzing pleasantly with something as you recalled the way his lips had ever-so-slightly grazed the shell of your ear as he taunted you. 
Just one of many threads serving to weave you both together, twining colors of dawn, of star-crested trees, and a crown of holy branches. Of breaking tides and moonlit swaths. You couldn’t choose the threads within the loom, obsequious at the facile hands of fate – or something else. 
— 
Clearing corners of the globe did allow you to take in the many splendors of this planet, as you had so hoped all those years ago on the Domo before coming to Earth. To allow you to get to know the people of Earth, your fascination with them and their development as endless as their apparent fascination with the Eternals. 
But it wasn’t just the people of Earth that held your attention. 
Nature had offered an escape, a reprieve from the endless conflict with the Deviants. You did not seek the next battle, as Thena did. Nor were you as entrenched in development as Phastos.
No, you preferred to spend your days exploring the countryside, climbing rocks, swimming in the ocean. Tending to the deer in the forest.
One such day found you enjoying the lake near where you had settled. It was an atypically quiet day, and cool babbling was soothing to you as you observed the clear water, taking in the colorful rocks like a rainbow embedded beneath its surface. The fish paid you no mind as you waded in, unable to help yourself. 
“Not t’ cold, is it?” You turned at the smooth, accented voice of Druig as he made his way through the treeline, coming to stop along the shore near where you had waded in, hands folded as he observed you in the sunlight. 
“I don’t mind a bit of cold, demeanor or otherwise,” you acknowledged. “Besides, the humans bathe and wash their linens here. If they don’t mind it, I don’t see any reason why I should.” 
Druig snorted at that, wading his way into the water not far from where you stood, the current gently rippling around your bodies.
“I've heard them talking about you, you know. Sprite's been spinning her web of tales in every city we dock,” Druig said offhandedly as he tossed a stone atop the clear lake, rippling the water’s previously-unblemished surface with the skips of the smooth rock. 
“Oh?” You plucked a unique-looking grey-blue rock from the shallows, your dress bunching in the water and flowing about your knees. “And what do they say?”
You turned over the rock you had chosen in your hands, noting, pleased, how its shade was so similar to the eyes of the man who stood beside you, plucking and skipping stones of his own.
“They call you Artemis. Some call you Diana. Others Selene. Different names for the same, stunning entity. Goddess of the forest, the hunter, the protector of young women throughout their land." 
You laughed. 
“That’s a kind and gentle way to describe conjuring arrows to destroy Deviants in bloody battle. Are you sure they aren’t referring to Sersi instead?” you chirped, leaning down to trail your fingers through the cool, clear water, admiring the way the blue of the rock looked so striking when held beneath the surface. 
“And what of your legends?” You queried. “So powerful that Sprite has invented an entire mystical order to explain away the one man who can grasp a million minds. The druids. Does that not tickle your pride somewhat?”
“An attempt to make me sound useful and utilitarian, perhaps?” Druig tossed another stone, ignoring its skipping progress across the water’s surface in favor of wading gently closer to where you stood. 
“Even so. Solitary folk they are, eh? The druids. So Sprite says. Any truth to that, then?” Your eyes tracked his progress as he disrupted the cool river’s surface to stand by your side.
Druig shrugged, coolly, but still affable. Willing to banter with you a bit more. The stretch of patience he would extend to you, to your conversations, after centuries still never ceased to amaze you. You often wondered what it is that had separated you from the others. Why he would extend these courtesies to you, to Makkari, and offer you glimpses of himself. 
“You know I prefer solitude if I am gifted it. Too many minds around and it gets a bit … crowded … up here.” Druig made a motion with his hands, circling around his head. “Like the buzzing of so many busy little bees,” he sighed. “But you know my power. You know me.”
You shuddered a bit at the heat that had laced Druig’s voice. “Do I?” You looked across the water, teasingly refusing to meet Druig’s gaze. “And what do you suppose my estimation is?” 
“Other than finding me roguishly handsome, you mean?” Druig teased. 
Your eyes widened at Druig’s jest. Although, in every joke, a kernel of truth. Had he been reading your thoughts? 
“Bah!” You huffed, “Don’t be a scoundrel. Especially not with someone who can best you in a fight.” 
“You still think you can best me, then?” Druig challenged, his voice light and bantering. 
“Oh, I know I can,” you bent your knees ever-so-slightly below the water, ready to spring should Druig challenged you. “You think I would expel all of my energy when we spar? Please.”  
“I could always just compel you to lose,” Druig said, tapping his chin as though deep in thought. 
“You would have to be faster than Artemis to do that,” and with that, you pounced, lurching forward and giving Druig’s shoulder a purposeful shove, causing him to slip on the stones beneath his feet topple into the water with a resounding splash, the sound cracking against the trees. 
You laughed as you backed away toward the shore, out of Druig’s reach as he broke the surface of the water, spluttering.
If you had thought he resembled a large cat before when you were training, the comparison was certainly apt now. He fixed you with a glare as he shook the water from his hands, and then his hair, now wet and matted to his head, his clothes stuck to his form, dripping. 
“Cheeky, hunter,” Druig breezed, his voice taking on a low timbre, but with no hint of malice, as he waded toward the shoreline, giving way to the chase you were leading him on as you darted from his grasp. 
He bent at the shoreline, dragging his hand through the water and attempting to splash you as you ran down the shore. 
Druig certainly could be fast when he wanted to be, you thought, too little too late as he closed the gap between you, catching you with an arm around your waist and causing you both to topple onto the pebbled shore. 
 You laughed together, Druig taking the moment to stroke a stray hair at your crown back into place.
“How could we have never met on Olympia?” you asked him, softly, “I feel as though I should have known you my entire life. And yet … we have only met now. It hardly feels fair. Years without the discovery of one another.” 
“We know one another now,” he shrugged, knocking an affable shoulder into yours as you sat beside one another, taking in the lake once more. 
Druig’s company was easy. Summer rain, the soft tapping on glass, warm, sweet and refreshing. 
You reached for the canvas bag you had brought with you that rested near where you had stopped together on the shore, pulling a fiery-hued orange from the depths of your bag. 
“Is this where Makkari keeps getting these then,” Druig asked as he watched you peel the orange. “She’s always snacking on them.” 
You nodded, offering Druig a wedge, its skin visibly thin and membranous by the light of the sun, ready to burst with zinging, crisp flavor on your tongue when you bite into it. 
Druig held up his hand to you, making to refuse. But you gently took his wrist, opening his palm to you and placing the wedge in his hand. You had opened the rind as you were slowly opening yourself to him, splitting the orange down its center and offering to share. To share its brightness, its sweetness, as you would endeavor to share yours. 
"You need to enjoy yourself more. The world is full of small treasures waiting to be discovered. Take a page from Makkari’s book,” you bit your own wedge, Druig taking in the little slip of juice that made its way from the corner of your mouth. 
He shrugged, following suit and biting into his own wedge. 
"Do you like them?" You asked through a mouthful of sweet, zipping orange. 
He nodded softly, savoring the sweet, syrupy flavor. “And Makkari?”
"She likes sharing with me," you shrugged.
Druig’s brows quirked at that. He knew you knew that he was also close with Makkari. How he would anchor the quicksilver woman in tender moments. And she, him. He had hoped it wouldn’t be a point of contention as you and he developed into … whatever you were that felt dangerously like affection. 
It seems he was mistaken; for you and Makkari were clearly also … affectionate.
To you, Makkari was milk and honey. Sweetness, nourishment, home.  Druig was oil. Rich and incendiary. He was the sagebrush you smelled in the desert before a storm – A cautionary comfort you could never quite quantify. 
And as the traipsing trail of time slipped past, thick like honey, you were eager for this to unfold. The path before you now lay, heavy and unblemished, like freshly packed and fallen snow. Tread lightly, little one, lest you sink too far. Or mar the surface of yours and Druig's tenuous friendship. 
And the  humans, it seemed, had grown to adore their protectors. 
And your friendship -- no, that seemed too soft a word … partnership?? -- had blossomed. Sharing your observations on humanity, sparring, your cheeky little intrigues with Makkari, helping her "obtain" treasures she sought. Your sniper's eye was good for more than just combat, after all...
And, at the celebration the humans had held for you within the stronghold of Babylon’s walls, you basked in the warmth of the evening from your chosen perch. 
Watching Sersi dance with the humans. Watched as Sprite weaved her tales with the accompaniment of shimmering, golden illusions. Watched as Makkari haggled with the townsfolk. You had turned down Kingo and Gilgamesh's offer of a drinking contest in favor of observation. Perhaps you were waiting for the offer to dance, instead?
“You know,” Druig pushed himself off of the wall at the periphery of your vision, his lilting voice breaking your thoughts, “I asked Makkari where she got some of those artifacts to trade. She started to mention something about them being won in a ‘shooting contest,’ before becoming suspiciously forgetful. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you, dear hunter of mine?” 
Druig ambled his way over to where you held court, your gaze fixed solely on him now. 
“Now, Dru, you know I respect Ajak’s rules far too much to aid in any kind of scheme where thievery is involved. Besides, were they really thieved if I won them fair and square?” You smiled at him then, a quick flash of tilted lips and teeth, like a fox might bare its teeth at its prey. 
The flicker of ferocity behind your grin was a direct juxtaposition to your usually-calm demeanor, and the softness of the dress that adorned your body. So different from your usual stiff, copperish armor. 
A heady combination, Druig thought, your contradictions continuing to surprise him. 
“And what did Makkari promise you in return for your assistance?” Druig stood before you, arms clasped behind his back in apparent repose. But you knew better. Lightning roiled beneath his skin, in the contrasting gold-and-blue of his stormy eyes. He merely awaited his moment. 
“Alleged assistance, my love,” you teased. “And Makkari’s and my arrangements are our own. No business of yours …  not unless you ask nicely for it to be your business.” 
At the heated lilt of your teasing voice, Druig’s mind was awash with the possibility and entendre of what you had said. 
“You’ve compelled me to ask, but for my own self–preservation, perhaps I’ll save that for later,” Druig replied, circling you slowly. “That’s a lovely dress, by the way.”
You smiled at his compliment, your desire to tease gone as you felt flush at his compliment. Almost shy. You shifted on your feet. 
“I almost feel more comfortable in my armor, but Kingo insisted. He’s got more of a flair for this sort of thing than I do, anyway,” you offered, glancing at your Apollo from across the room as he laughed with Gilgamesh at Sprite’s illusions. "And some of the women in the village made it for me." 
The upswing of a new song caught your attention, and you turned to the man beside you, who was likewise observing the others. Ever-watchful, your Druig. 
The two of you had shared tender moments. Conversations far too personal to be purely platonic. Hell, the two of you had even shared a few kisses over the years. Embraced. Held one another in private moments just for the two of you. Or three of you. But the urgency to progress something wasn't really a factor when you lived forever. 
Nevertheless, yours and Druig's… whatever you might call it… had not really progressed past a certain point. Call it respect for the being you knew to be reserved in his affection, but you didn't feel the need to be overly-physical it it wasn't something he had instituted.
That doesn't mean the desire wasn't there. At least on your part. The burning thrum of something just shy of need. The hope to hold onto Druig as more than just your friend. To press the planes of your skin along his in quiet moments. To feel his hands caress parts of yourself that no one else would. His hands were quite maddeningly beautiful, weren't that? Craving the resplendent mutualism of shared ardor.
Had centuries not been long enough? So, while you didn’t know what came over you, you felt compelled to ask nonetheless – 
“Would you care to dance?” You piped up suddenly, your own voice (or perhaps the suddenness of your own courage) causing you to jump a bit, like a startled fawn. 
Had you really just done that? No sense in playing coy now.
You gestured at the circling crowd. 
Ah. So, perhaps it was a foolish request.
Druig quirked a brow at you, tilting the corner of his mouth into a barely-there half smile. For his part, he seemed to hesitate a tad before taking in the magnitude of the crowd and responding,
“I’m not much of a dancer, I’m afraid, love,” he replied. “Besides, can’t have anyone knowing I have two left feet.” 
You tried to quell the rush of icy disappointment and proverbial cold water his response had shot through you.
“I’ve seen you fight, Dru, your feet are precisely as they should be,” you teased gently, masking the mild sting of rejection you felt with a joke. “Ah, well.” 
With that, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and patted his arm softly before making your way from the room, and outside of the city walls. 
A blurring rush came to a stop beside Druig as he watched you go. He turned to find Makkari at his side, a stern look fixed to her usually-gentle features, prominent chin jutted in Druig’s direction and eyes awash in a frown. 
“Why would you do that?” She prodded at Druig, her hands flying. 
“I’m not much of a joiner,” he responded, signing back his dissent to your invitation. 
“She just wanted to spend time with you. Even you aren't that dense. Go on, go find her. You can thank me later,” Makkari was insistent, shoving him in the direction of the door you had left from. 
“Nosy,” Druig chuckled, rolling his eyes over-dramatically to ensure Makkari would see, before smiling at her in thanks and following your path.
Your invitation to dance had taken him a bit by surprise. It's not as though the two of you weren't … affectionate with one another, by any stretch. And it's not as though he didn't want to be. 
The thought of the two of you sharing everything together had crossed his mind. Of course it had. The idea that you would feel even an ounce of the ardorous devotion he felt for you was a heady one.
And there it was -- devotion. 
Druig was no fool, far from it. He simply wouldn't allow himself to be flung into anything without first understanding the parameters involved. It's not as though his reserved demeanor was a secret amongst his fellow Eternals.
Moments spent with you… by the lake, in his chambers on the Domo, gentle teasing and the tug-and-pull of something more in the heartstrings between you. While the long life Druig had been gifted was full of many moments, those with you, those with Makkari, these were his favorites. 
That he could have all of you was a thought he only desired to entertain if it could come to fruition. And now, the possibility was so very tangible, he could feel it beneath his fingertips. It felt like the brush of your lips, the gentle promise of something more.
Druig made his way to find you, determined. 
You had sat yourself outside of the city walls, staring at the moon as it hung over the city. It was luminous, as though it, too, wanted to join in, to celebrate the Eternals’ victory. 
The cool, quiet air was necessary after being exposed to the heat of the party. And … something potentially more embarrassing. But for the second time that night, a familiar brogue interrupted your thoughts.
“And what are you doing out here?” Druig called, coming to sit beside you, legs propped up to allow an arm to sling over his knees, reaching for your hand. “Were you not enjoying the festivities?” 
The gentle nature of Druig's rolling accent put your mind at ease. His tone implying repentance, an olive branch.
"Oh, I was. But someone wouldn't dance with me," you pouted, rising to your feet and brushing off your dress to twirl away from Druig's grasp playfully. And perhaps to mask the small bit of hurt that you had felt. 
But, now that the two of you were a respectable distance from the crowd, not to mention the prying eyes of your fellow Eternals, you felt perhaps Druig might be willing to engage. That the two of you could have a moment just for you, as you had so many times over the years. Something to cherish. You loved the others, but they could be so nosy.
Druig chuckled in spite of himself, a low, clear sound, like breaking thunder in the middle-distance of a cloudy day, his eyes never leaving your form.
"I've never been much of a joiner. You know very well I prefer to watch you," he said with a shrug, his voice taking on a heat that you would follow, directly into the burning sun if you must. 
You wouldn't back down now. He had sought you out, after all, hadn't he? 
No more tenuous dancing of an anxious doe. You were a fearsome hunter, after all. And if he could toy with you … well, turnabout was fair play.
"You would rather watch me than move with me?" 
You were coy, your lips pouting in a teasing smirk. You reached for Druig, lacing your fine-boned fingers through his firm, warm ones, pulling him up to sway with you and guiding his hands toward your hips. 
Your grin faltered slightly as you looked up at Druig through your lashes, his icy eyes melting with the warmth of his gaze upon you. His fingers were still laced with yours, which you used to your advantage as you continued to guide his touch over your hips, a gentle graze over soft curves, with only the stars in the heavens to watch over you, twinkling and winking their approval of your loving flirtation, your steady adoration. 
Druig dropped his forehead to touch yours, his eyes never leaving yours as his towering frame leaned into your swaying figure. 
Breaking one hand free to trail up your side, Druig grazed your chin with molten, idolatrous fingertips, letting them come to rest on the side of your jaw, as though it were the most natural resting point for him. And perhaps it was.
"You know I would move however you asked, goddess of mine," he rumbled. "You need only to ask."
"You would?" You murmured, bringing your free hand to read on Druig's chest, where you could feel the low, steady beat of his heart. "And that's enough for you, is it?"
"I would. The eternity we've been given is not enough," Druig's thumb that was resting along your jaw is now pressed into the plush of your lower lip, which he drags lightly down, his eyes following the movement. "For I could never have enough time with you."
You had lived for thousands of years; knew you would live for thousands more yet. But this was what you had been waiting for. This must be your purpose, Arishem be damned, to be loved by the man before you. 
For In all of that time, nothing compared to the feeling of Druig's lips on yours, nor the feeling of his touch to your skin. Nothing compared to what rushed through you, heated lightning and a rush of euphoria, of honey, as he held you outside of the city’s formidable walls. 
In Druig’s arms, you had found your own stronghold. 
You had once thought this type of love was for humans. For stories. Or just for Ikaris and Sersi. You did not think you would feel its keen sting, its quavering devotion, its promises and it's aches. 
But he had pressed his lips to yours. And As Druig’s mouth moved, slightly fumbling before becoming insistent when met with the soft petals of your lips, your resolve crumbled. 
“And I’m sorry about earlier,” Druig murmured his apology into your lips. “I would dance with you from here to eternity, and I lo–” his voice broke, “I love you.” 
You smiled at him then, beaming and radiant as one of your golden arrows. As the sunlight peeking through the forest trees. As only the goddess Artemis could. 
“Well then,” you murmured, your lips brushing along Druig’s… brushing, but never pressing, “I suppose you’ll just have to show me?” 
He had smirked then; his face, so normally smooth and impassive, quirked into a manner so self-assured. 
The moon and the whispering wind were the only witnesses to your moment alone. To the way Druig’s hands had slid beneath your skirt to brush along your thighs and through your folds as he held you tighter, tighter, impossibly tighter. To the honey-dipped slip of his tongue into your mouth, the warmth of his firm arms around yours, guiding you to the earth in the shadows of the great wall behind the both of you.
To the way he cradled your head as though you were the most precious gift. 
And would you be the goddess of the hunt if you did not seek out your quarry in kind? 
You had caught Druig’s wrist as he strummed and stroked his way to and through your glistening folds. You were nothing if not disciplined, the urge to seek out your prey its own kind of gratification to you. 
You flipped the two of you then, resting atop Druig’s hips, and caging him into the orbit that was your sheer power, leaning over him to tease, to stroke, to lick your way into his mouth. To press your own marks into the beautiful pallor of his throat. To roll your hips over his and feel all of him beneath you. 
As you divested him of each layer of cloth, you had left no part of him untouched, unwanted, your warmth surrounding him as you sank onto him. 
Truly, only nature would witness to what you and Druig had shared. To your gasps and moans into the others’ mouths. To the way you had dug your nails, crescents mirroring the moon above into his shoulders, his back. As you surged your hips into the rhythm between the two of you, poetry for yourselves alone, with a crest and a declaration shared only in this moment. To the way he had shattered alongside you, sharing this moment with only you. 
Weaving your way. Its own kind of dance. And you would twirl about one another until you couldn’t any longer.
And you had told him you loved him too. The genuine smile you were rewarded with would be something you would savor in your dreams for years to come. 
— 
But time has a way of twisting your ambitions. And the breaking point comes in Tenochtitlan. Amidst the fires, chaos, the fall of another Empire.
As the smoke and the popping of flames and guns alike rose around the Eternals, Druig’s mind was similarly aflame – burning with churning thoughts of war, the feeling of sticky blood beneath human hands as the people in the city below fought on. He tried to push it from his mind – tried to render himself immune to their conflict as Ajak had so frequently bid. But how could he? When he could hear their thoughts of unrest. Feel their blistering, itchy hatred for their so-called enemy?
When Thena broke beneath her Mahd Wy’ry, Druig felt himself splintering, too. Not in the same exact manner, but … beneath the crushing weight of waves of blood, historical conflict magnified throughout the millennia. One could only take so many human lives lost – the lives his Selene held so dearly – before it all became too much. 
“Do you have any idea what that does to someone after centuries?” Druig bellowed, refusing to meet his beloved’s eyes. Compelling the mortal men below to drop their weapons, Druig turned his rage on the others. On whomever would challenge him. On Ajak. On Ikaris. 
But, oh, you did. You had some idea. For to feel the heart of your beloved in so much pain was splintering you, too. If the weight that broke you did not come at the cruel, gnarled hands of Mahd Wy’ry, it would surely come with the fracturing of your family. If Druig were to leave now … well, even Eternals felt pain. 
The tears stung at your eyes as you watched Ajak plead with Druig to embrace Arishem’s purpose. A fool’s errand, you knew. Once Druig had set his mind to something, he would be loath to change it. Each word hurled between the two split your heart a fraction more. You could bear it no longer.
You stepped forward, opening your mouth to speak – but not before Kingo could sweep his arm before you, gently catching your waist. Turning to him, the pleading question in your eyes was met with morose understanding, with a bidding invocation from his heart to yours to please, don’t make this worse. 
You shook your head softly, gently removing his arm from you as you made toward Druig, but not before your beloved could strike the final nail into this coffin – 
“If you wanna stop me, you’re gonna have to kill me,” Druig hissed, turning on his heel and sparing an unreadable glance at you as he descended the stone steps of the temple, the men he had compelled making to follow him into the woods. 
You were so beautiful in that dress he earlier said he had admired. So soft and beautiful, a stark contrast to the smoke and violence that was drowning his senses. To the foggy commands he had implanted in the men’s minds, bidding them to stop fighting.  
Druig knew you would follow him – had dared to hope that perhaps you would come with him. Surely, he thought, you would see things his way. As the others had not. 
You padded down the steps behind him, Ajak’s sorrowful glance following your form as you trailed after your beloved. Knowing she would either lose two children this day, or that you would return with less of your heart than you had left with. An untenable situation, the outcome outweighed by the cost to the both of you.
“Druig,” you cried, “Druig! Wait, please!” 
The way your voice had broken over the word “please” caused Druig to stop, turning on his heel to watch you make your way toward him. The smoky, red fury smothering his heart dissipating slightly as he took in the desperation in your expression. 
“I won’t go back, hunter, please don’t ask,” Druig spoke before you could meet him. “She’s wrong, and you know it!” 
You faltered in your steps, approaching your beloved cautiously, as you would a skittish, newborn fawn in the golden wood. 
“My love, you know Ajak means well,” you spoke softly, tenuously, so as not to stoke the flames you could see licking their way behind Druig’s eyes, feeding his fury. “You know she loves you. We all do.” 
“Whether they do or not, I won’t be a pawn in Arishem’s game,” Druig clipped. “Not while people suffer needlessly. Look at them, my love. You love them. How can you let them … do this?” Druig gestured at the destruction around you.
“Because I have to trust that this … thirst for war, like all thirst, will eventually be quenched,” You knotted your hands into your skirt, the anxiety wheedling it’s way through your bones. “I don’t know if the humans will ever achieve harmony, but isn’t it up to them to try? Isn’t it an expression of our love to let them try? To trust, to hope?”
Druig scoffed, a harsh noise to your ears in its derision. 
“Up to them? Beneath the weight of their greed? Their jealousy? Their violence? They are buried,” Druig pleaded, eyes wild. “I can unburden them. You know I can.” 
"By controlling them! You think you know more than them?" you pressed, unable to believe just what you were hearing from the person you thought you knew so well.
"Please, love,” Druig scoffed, “I know I do. I can see into their minds. I know their limits. I know their weaknesses.” 
You could not believe what you were hearing -- as the remnants of the battle raged in the distance beyond you, you felt the rising bile of scourge and the heat of conflict rising within yourself. The man before you prided himself on being collected. A little derisive at times, sure, but never cruel. Never so casual in disinterested supremacy.
"We're meant to protect them, Dru,” you urged softly, firmly. “To help them. Not to rule them. It is not our place."
"But it can be mine,” he stepped toward you, fingers outstretched as if to take your hand. 
You stepped back, shaking your head and withdrawing from him, pulling your hand away so that his fingers could not meet your own. You tried not to notice the subtle flinch, nor the flash of pain behind your beloved’s eyes as he saw you retreat from him. Drawing away as you would draw your shortsword from a defeated Deviant, detached in your victory.
But you felt no pride in this. This was not victory. 
You tried again. 
"Your place was to be beside me, and mine beside you. Is that not what you want?" The wind blew the smoke from the warring fires around the both of you, swirling your skirts and stinging your eyes. Yes, that was what the prickling behind your eyes was. It had to be. Druig would never make you cry. 
"That can still be, my Selene, my Diana,” Druig implored, the usually cool lilt of his brogueish accent was now tinged with what you might mistake for panic. If you did not know him any better. Druig did not panic. “Come with me. We'll watch over them together." He reached for you again. 
You shook your head, trying to shake the smoke from your scratching throat and the tears from your eyes. 
Couldn’t he see this was tearing you in two? Splitting you to the bone? 
"That -- that's not our purpose, Dru. It's -- it's perversion. Our duty is sacrosanct, our gifts from Arishem himself, and you mean to use yours to corrupt that duty. To corrupt your purpose. Corrupt them. Corrupt us."
Druig's eyes flashed, a licking, complex damasque of anger, heat and betrayal.
"Is that what you would think of me, my love?" He spat the last word, carefully avoiding meeting your eyeline where he could see the glimmer of tears forming along your lashes. Better to look above you, to look down upon you. Through haughty eyes and the slope of angular cheekbones. “So powerful as to destroy even us? Can you not see that the purpose you speak so highly of is flawed? That perhaps we can do more?”  
"I don't know what to think, Dru," you whispered, stepping forward and reaching for him this time, for his palm, yours outstretched. “I -- I’m so confused.” 
As your fingers grazed his hand, he yanked it away, perhaps more violently than you had done moments before. As though your touch were as cutting as one of your arrows, laden with weighted, creeping poison.
"But,” you implored again, ignoring the rush of hurt his actions had wrought, “I know you're not right all of the time. None of us are. We're not perfect -- how can you say you're fit to do this? That you know what's best?”
"We know more than they do. They’re feeble, flawed – but I can keep them safe! We can keep them safe,” he pressed, noting the way your hand was still seeking his.  
You gazed upon Druig’s features, twisted now with the heated passion of his speech, awash in the darkness of the night sky and the shadows war rumbling around him; his eyes flashing a blue-grey, a troubled sea roiling in a storm. A painfully unfamiliar mask comprised of features you once recognized. Intimately. 
How unlike the usually cool, impassive face of the man you had come to love. 
“We can’t,” you murmured, your eyes meeting Druig’s once more. “I can’t. We should stick with the others – we cannot walk this world alone.”
Druig scoffed, but before he could berate the others whom you would choose to stay with over him – Ikaris, with his bullheaded, proud devotion to Arishem; Ajak with her secrets, her unyielding sense of purpose; Kingo, the Apollo to your Artemis, whose sunny disposition you would never wish to be parted from -- and how he would follow Ajak and Iakris both to the end; Sersi, too delicate to stand up to anyone  – you broke him with your words, again.
“With or without the others, with or without you, I will guard these people, love them. But I won’t control them. We are not gods.”
“You’ve been talking to Kingo –” 
“No, Dru. They deserve their freedom -- freedom to choose, freedom to love ...” you trailed, finally capturing Druig’s fingers in your own, stepping into his space and bringing your hand to delicately graze the peak of his cheekbone. His hand atop yours, destined to follow yours in its journey, mapping the familiar landscape of his own face through the beauty of your hands.  
Druig tilted his head down toward yours, his lips mere centimeters from meeting yours, foreheads not-quite brushing -- a gesture still so tender, even in absence of actual touch. Your affection had always had an atmosphere, an orbit. 
“Even the freedom to hurt? When I could prevent it?” He murmured to you, eyes downcast to your lips, your gaze upon the fan of his lashes. 
“Yes, love, even that," you sighed, shaking your head softly. 
“And what of your freedom? Do you not choose to love me?” Druig lifted his hand away from its place atop yours, a cool breeze caressing the backs of your fingers in the absence of his touch. 
He trailed his fingers to you now, mirroring the path your touch had taken, this time upon your own face. Cupping your jaw gently. The two of you now locked in a crescent moon’s embrace, arced and amorous, but not quite complete. Not quite whole. 
“I have no choice but to love you,” you whispered into his lips, “for I fear I wouldn’t recognize myself without the pieces that belong to you. You are everything to me. Of the gifts this eternal life has given me, I could thank Arishem for you each day, and still not have enough time to express my gratitude. For you, for Makkari, for the pearls of love this life has bestowed,” you paused to catch your breath. Were you really about to deny him once more? “But, Dru, this is wrong. We cannot leave the others, cannot abandon our purpose to protect, as we have been asked. You cannot leave us.” 
You tore your gaze from your beloved’s, the tears you had fought so hard to cage now slipping freely down your cheeks, gliding coolly over the corners of your downturned mouth. 
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Druig’s face fall, as his shoulders set. A pillar of resolute sadness. You could feel his tension; the climbing heat within him at your stubbornness. 
Your mind was moving a mile a minute. The world fell into a wash of white-noised nothingness, the army of those men Druig had bewitched stood, unnaturally silently around you. 
Everything around you was fading, as your thoughts flitted from scenario to scenario, through doubt and distrust, before finally – a previously-unfelt rosy calm washed its way into your mind, settling and easing, soothing you --
Was this plan really so bad? Could it really be so bad? When had Druig ever steered you wrong? It was reasonable, wasn’t it? There was so much you didn’t know, and Druig would be there to guide you, as he had promised he would be. Together in all things, with Druig, Druig, Druig … 
The pleasant haze of your thoughts was rudely interrupted by a sharp, puncturing arrow of doubt within yourself, an uncomfortable prodding and wriggling sensation through your brain, deflating the rosy cloud as you met Druig’s eyes -- 
– Only to discover they were unfocused, far-seeing, golden. 
Suddenly, you were awash in white heat, blue flames tearing their way through your body as you realized what he was doing. Rage.
“How dare you?” You bellowed, stepping forward and shoving Druig by the shoulders. “You think you can control me, as you control them? You really think so little of me, that you can alter my ‘feeble’ mind? I won't be what you say because you say it!” 
You gripped his wrist, squeezing, so that he might feel the weight of your words. You had never truly raised a hand against him before; even when the two of you were training together, you had always pulled your punches. But this? You were livid with him now. And you knew that Druig would be defensive, in turn.
His mind was racing, full of memory, of that night outside of the city – your keystone moment of passion. A core memory.
Remember this love, for surely you would never feel anything like it again.
Of the night when perpetually-young lovers wrapped themselves in one another, awash in the heat of one another and the haze of summer. Druig’s lily skin burned alongside yours, bright and entirely incandescent, awash with the glow your attentions had wrought upon him. 
You had pulled Druig ever-closer, closer, closer to you, breathing his name into his ear as you moved together beneath gleaming heavens. A reverent whisper of your voice that made him feel entirely godlike. The rest of the world may as well have been made of tissue paper – transparent and prone to crumbling beneath the strength your love had imbued. 
To look at you, Druig knew the starshine clarity of your honest eyes would be the last thing he desired to see on this planet should he be forced to leave it.
But, but, but … he could not bring himself to meet them now, for the fear that yours would reflect only derision, revulsion at what he was about to do. He truly had savored that night. And other nights like it. And every moment of affection between then and now. Of shared orange slices and stolen moments in quiet corners. Spoiling, curdling in his mind through this disquiet. Through his cruel words. The quickest way to kill you was to poison your heart – the heart that loved him so. 
"So much for your love, then," Druig spat, his touch abandoning your face to peel your fingers from his, flinging your hand away from its rightful place along his skin. 
He would be finished with it all. Even if it meant being finished with you.
Druig turned on his heel, retreating into the forest with the people he had compelled at his back, their unnaturally-uniform steps marching in unison, in time with the heavy thudding of your heart. 
You watched him go, his form fading into the darkness, stealing your heart away and carrying it with him, ripping it from your chest and into the depths of the forest, forever with him --  though he didn't know it. Or if he did, it was not enough to make him turn around. To come back to you. You would forgive him already if he would just turn around. 
With every step Druig took away from you, you could feel your heart cracking. You opened your mouth to wail, release some of this pain that had suddenly washed over you at the reality that the other half of your soul was marching out of your life. But no sound escaped your lips. 
Instead, you fell to your knees, your intricately-woven dress that Druig had complimented mere hours before now dirtied, as you looked to the heavens, more tears soundlessly escaping down your cheeks.
Praying for Arishem to guide you. For no Eternal had died before, but this pain? Worse than pain of battle. This must be what death is, you thought. It wasn't a quick, clean end after which your soul would know peace. No. It was a serrated knife that sawed slowly, uncaringly through you with the cadence of departing footsteps, leaving you to bleed alone until nothing was left.  This was not something even Ajak could heal.
Makkari had found you then, stock-still on your knees, staring at the spot where Druig had vanished into the treeline. She had rested her head against your cheek, silent through your sobs.
Remember this pain; its burn unique. For surely, you would never burn so wholly from within again.
Promises, promises.
Now, your family had found you at your homestead in Guadalajara. On the outskirts of the city. 
Sersi, ever the gentle diplomat. Ikaris, the man intent on becoming king. And Kingo, the sunshine through the trees of your forest. And … Kingo’s delightfully human friend. 
Never they mind that you had built a life for yourself. That after Makkari had found you five hundred years ago and told you of Ajak’s parting words – “When we meet again, tell me what you’ve found…” that you had found a corner of the world with sunshine. With greenery. With bursting flavor and color. With the life you had always imagined you could have had if you had been born mortal on this planet. 
But without a partner.
Sersi and Ikaris had broken the news to you. Kingo there to soften the blow. Of Ajak. Of Gilgamesh. Of the Emergence. Of the true purpose of the Eternals on Earth. 
“So,” you mused, as they sat around your table, steaming mugs of freshly-brewed Mexican coffee before them. “Druig was right, after all. The design was flawed.” 
You looked up to meet Kingo’s eyes – his chocolate orbs melting into yours with soft, serene understanding. That you would mourn Ajak. That you would mourn the lives you had led, tainted by deceit. 
“No wonder we never remembered one another from Olympia,” you intoned, taking a sip. 
Your family urged you to pick up your bow. Whether the plan was to delay the Emergence, or to merely stave off the Deviants, you were needed, they had said. 
So, here you were, trudging behind your family, to where the others stood. Phastos, with hands ringed in gold, ready to create something to once more save humanity. Sprite, with her sharp wit and illusions. Thena, ever the stoic warrior, though never the same since she and Gilgamesh had left as she crumbled beneath the weight of her Mahd Wy’ry. And … him. 
"My beautiful, beautiful hunter," Druig purred when he met you, trailing a finger from one of your shoulders, over your collarbone, to the other, walking in a semi-circle around you to rest his chin on your shoulder, tilting his chin slightly so as to whisper to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Did you miss me?" The low, even hum reverberated from his mouth, straight through you.
The easy breeze of Druig’s lilting accent surrounded you, tickling your ears and pricking them with familiarity and warmth. 
And here, you hadn’t decided whether you had forgiven him, yet. 
You closed your eyes, letting the feelings the familiarity of his voice brought forth wash over you. 
"You are … you are -- insolent" you spluttered, “¡Atrevido!” 
Presumptuous. 
“So that’s a yes, then,” Druig smirked. “I missed you, mo shíorghrá.” 
You conjured an arrow that slipped between your index and middle finger, flipping him a rather rude gesture with the weapon of your own making as you stalked off, Kingo chuckling at your back. 
They had mentioned unearthing the Domo, of finding Makkari. And the sooner you had all started, the sooner it could end. 
One way or the other. 
Still, you couldn’t deny what it had made you feel – to see Druig again. And you’d had a feeling he had known it, too. If the flickering grin of his full lips had been any indication. The sunglasses were of no obstacle to you. For your hunter’s eyes knew his too well. That they danced behind the dark glass, ever teasing you.  
The return to the Domo had brought memories long-buried. Of days spent with the object of your affection (and current object of your avarice).
Of one memory in particular: 
You had smiled bashfully, wanly, eyes diverted downward as you lightly shove Druig's shoulder.
"Don't tease me, Dru," you chuckle. "It's unbecoming of a man of your particular ability."
Druig was silent as he brought his hand up to cup your chin, trailing his fingers along your jaw, light as the tickling of leaves that dance upon the wind as he traces his way down your neck and along the peaks of your collarbones, feeling the evenness of your breath beneath his fingertips.
"I do not tease, darling." His eyes locked with yours.
"What a shame," you countered, "sometimes unbecoming can be fun."
Druig pressed his fingers into their resting place along your collar, pressing his ardor firmly. How sobering his gaze could be -- as clear, cool and shocking as the river, wild in wintertime. 
"You can tell me what you feel, can't you, little one?" Druig broke his gaze from yours  to whisper in your ear, nuzzling the curve of his nose along the shell of your ear as he did so, feeling of warmth. 
"I…," you trailed, "you know what I feel for you. I won't stroke your ego."
"Perhaps I just like to hear you say it."
You sighed, relishing in the feel of Druig's lips near your ear, over your cheek, and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.
"Who invented this as an expression of devotion, I wonder," you murmured, drawing back from Druig, your lips separating, noses still brushing.
"The kiss? Who knows. Maybe we did?"
"You cannot think us so important as to take ownership of every human development. That's … generous."
"Maybe it's innate, then," Druig pondered, his eyes gazing upon you as he propped his head in his hand. He did not need to render his eyes gold in order to determine that the gears in your mind were turning. He'd rather wait until you chose to share a fully-formed thought. How wondrous the conclusions of your mind could be.
"Is it innate to us because it is innate to humans? Or is it the other way around?" You wondered aloud. "Are we awakened knowing how we choose to express our love? Do we all recognize love once we've felt it, and are all drawn toward the same compulsion to express it?"
Druig barked a laugh.
"If you were human, perhaps you would have been a philosopher," he mused, reaching across to his night table to pour himself water from the pitcher that rested there.
You wrinkled your nose at the thought.
"I don't think so," you said. "I'm not suggesting you can't think properly out of doors, but I quite think I would prefer to contribute through the use of my hands."
"You don't give your mind nearly enough credit," he said, taking a drink, his eyes never leaving you over the rim of his cup. 
Sensing your protest, he continued, "I think I could be considered an expert on the subject." 
He had wrapped his arms around you then. 
Now, now that you had been reunited, and the plan unfolded (though you were still wary of Ikaris), Druig had stopped you on your way out of Phastos’ lab. Pleading you for a word. 
Ever unable to resist him, you acquiesced. Standing next to him beneath the cool light that emanated from the halls of the Domo. As it had all started. You hadn’t traded words with him in over five hundred years. And now you stood before him, the man you had given yourself to, bidding him to speak. To say anything that would ease the lashing pain that you had felt amidst the fires of war as he had marched his army of compelled men into the forest of the Amazon, and beyond your keen archer’s sight. 
“You know why I chose the forest, don’t you?” Druig asked.
You shrugged, cool and indifferent. 
“The convenience of proximity? Where they found you … Those were the same woods where we were all those years ago?” You queried, voice level. The “when you left” remained unspoken, removed from the end of your sentence; though, Druig didn’t need to be a mind reader to know it was there, hanging between the two of you. 
“Because, love, in all of Sprite’s stories, you were the goddess of the wood. The hunter. I know it’s where you would feel most at home,” Druig turned his head from you. “If you had ever decided to find me, to choose me, I wanted you to find a home. Someplace you would love, as you once loved me.”
You remained silent, mulling over Druig’s words. It was austere. Foreign, this silence between the two of you. And Druig’s revelation was an olive branch, of sorts, as well as a surprise to you. You had thought Druig would not want  to see you again after you had stayed behind. 
“Would you have let me?” You asked, “After everything? Choose you, I mean. Would you have welcomed me with open arms after we left one another alone in the fires of war?” 
Old habits die hard, and resentment is left to fester, filling your gut with rot. Corrosive. And the storms within his Druig’s beget flashing lightning when he looked at you, splitting you to your core and burning you from the inside out. 
Druig shuffled his feet, weighing his words before answering. 
“I think of that day by the lake often,” Druig admitted. “When our friendship was young. How much time has passed since. And now, here we are, at the end of all things on this planet. Before it was too late to say anything, I would tell you how I regretted leaving you that day. How I longed to reach for you. To tell you I was wrong. But only if you would hear it?” 
“I would hear it,” you murmured. “But, Dru, you weren’t wrong. You were right. I was wrong. About Arishem. About our purpose. I shouldn’t have said what I did.” Tears welled in your eyes, your voice breaking over the admission you had weighed in your mind for centuries. 
“Thena would have a field day,” you sniffled. “Look at me, crying before a man.” 
Druig shushed you, turning to touch you at last, to cup your face in his warm palms, thumbs skating over the apex of your cheeks to wipe away the silent tears as they fell. You thought the world would end and you would waste away after millenia before feeling the tenderness of his trailing touch smoothing over your skin one last time. It was a revelation. A gift from whatever Celestial force was listening. 
“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t have you cry over this. I shouldn’t have asked you to choose. Between me and them, our family, the humans,” Druig softly brushed his lips to yours for a fleeting moment, as if to brush the surface anew. To wipe away the tears and leave the surface of your mouth with something pure. “You were right – we never were better than them. Look at us now. Can’t we both have been a tad right, and somewhat wrong?” 
You chuckled weakly through the breaking remnants of your emotion. 
“That would make us so remarkably normal wouldn’t it?”
They say lightning never strikes twice. Never to meet the same corner of earth, leaving it with an eruption of destruction and then bereft of feeling. But you knew that to be untrue, for the same feeling bloomed and burned within you every time Druig turned his gaze to you, flashing quickly through the gale. His eyes stormy, his affections quick and ferocious. Not for the first time, nor the last, would you say your beloved was so like lightning. 
And you found yourself awash in the amorous wave of feelings you had always felt with him. No matter how much time had passed. 
“I missed you, my hunter,” you folded your way into Druig’s arms, burying your head into his chest and allowing his arms to wrap around you. To hold you for a moment before the end of all things. “Now what do you say we save the world?” 
You pressed your hands to Druig’s chest, palms flat, pushing yourself from his embrace and tilting your chin up to look into his eyes, the wave of relief you had felt at Druig’s forgiveness replaced with mirth and the promise of a challenge, to do battle together again once more. 
“Think you can keep up with me, then?” You trailed a finger along his jaw to tweak his chin, spinning a conjured arrow at your side in the other hand. “We’ll see, amor.” 
Druig watched you walk away from him, ready to do battle. It was a welcome of some comfort, knowing that as he watched you walk away it was nothing like the way he had walked away from you 500 years ago. That you would be by his side as they combatted the Emergence.
You donned your armor once more, prepared to become the hunter once again.
Thread can be used to patch. Even your prior hurts. To right wrongs and make your picture whole again. If only you nudge them along a little, with willing fingers and strength of mind. 
— 
Ikaris’s betrayal was nothing less than heartbreak of the cruelest kind. As you prepared to merge to lend your power to Druig, the pain of Ikaris and Sprite’s defection were additional wounds on top of your already heavy heart. You had lost so much in such a short amount of time. 
And while you understood Kingo’s decision to leave rather than fight, you wouldn’t like and say it didn’t make you question which side of this debate that you were on. 
“You know you’re my favorite, dear Selene,” Kingo had smirked, bending down from his considerable height to press a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “And I’m glad you’re okay, after all this time. And that we’ve found each other again. But I can’t do this. Please don’t hate me.” 
And when Ikaris had shown up to disrupt the uni-mind and to stop Druig and Sersi? When he had flown down from on-high and tossed Druig away like he was nothing, you saw red. 
You had never conjured your arrows to fire at another Eternal before. Not with the intent to harm. But you refused to pull your punches now, as you took aim at Ikaris in the sky. Covering Makkari as she struck her blows. 
Ikaris flew over you, attempting to shoot your bow from your hands with the beams from his eyes. 
You worked quickly, wishing for Makkari’s power as you dodged, rolled and leapt away from the surges he fired at you. 
"Stop this Ikaris,” you shouted at him as you shot an arrow in the direction he was flying, grazing his shoulder as he zipped past. “This won't work!. A true leader is unselfish. You can’t do this," you pleaded.
"And what would you know of it?” Ikaris called back to you, “What would you know of how to lead?” He landed before you, squaring his shoulders. “You choose to spend all of your time with a man whose ability is telling others what to do and think. Hardly an unselfish leader."
Heated rage flooded your body at his mention, his insult, of Druig. Quickly, you drew, taking aim for Ikaris’ heart. 
“Hardly the same thing, and you know it. Stop this or I’ll stop you.” You anchored the string of your bow to your chin, ready to fire. “You may be able to fly, but I’ve always been faster.” 
Your distraction had worked, long enough for Makkari flit by you and to knock Ikaris from his feet, the two of you continuing to hold him at bay. 
As the battle waged on between Ikaris, the Deviant, the Eternals, Phastos’ uni-mind had worked once more to allow Sersi to freeze Tiamut. It was a victory that didn’t feel like a victory, for now you had lost Ikaris, as well. The weight of battle, of the endless conflict that you learned was responsible for advancing the universe, felt heavy on your shoulders, abridging your feelings of relief at having stopped Tiamut. Was this what Ajak felt during the entire millenia of her burdened leadership? 
The appearance of Druig making his way across the sand, had eased this bleak weight somewhat. As he embraced Makkari, embraced you, you felt the faint glimmer of what you might call hope. For if you were together, maybe you could use what you had learned to help other planets.  
To do something actually good. Together. 
Time heals all wounds. Who knew that better than beings who had been alive for millennia? Losing Ajak, Gilgamesh … even Ikaris … and now the others who had gone when you had only just met again. 
Perhaps this was your curse, to feel everything too deeply. Perhaps it was penance for having a power capable of taking lives. Ever trapped in your own head.
The ache that had taken residence in your chest since learning of Ajak's death rattled dully behind your heart. Not even the success of abating the Emergence, of once more helping humanity, could ease it. You had, after all, only recently come to terms with five hundred years of loneliness. 
But sitting wedged on a couch with the two who had become other parts of your soul would certainly help.
You munched on your pizza, seated on one end of the Ajak's couch with your thigh pressed into Makkari’s, Druig on her other side. Phastos's son, Jack, had presented you with a half of the orange he had absconded from the kitchen with, with Thena’s aid, as Phastos scolded Thena for conjuring her weapons near his child. 
“But dad!” Jack whined, “Artemis was showing me her bow-n-arrows earlier, and she and A-thena are so cool.” 
You shrugged from your place on the couch at Phastos’ swift, accusatory look, arching a brow. 
“Makkari made a good point, you know. He’s ten, P. I’ve been shooting arrows since the dawn of time. He could pick up a bow at ten," you called to him, not eager to leave your perch on the couch with your beloveds. Not when you had only just  been reunited.
At Jack’s eager look, Phastos sighed, weary, rubbing his temples. You all seemed determined to drive him to an early grave. 
“Oooh-kay. No babysitting with Auntie Thena or Auntie Artemis.” 
You rolled your eyes, a smile nevertheless making its way across your lips as you split the orange half Jack had given you into its preordained wedges and passing them to your partners. Your fingertips first brushing Makkari’s, as the sticky orange sweetness passed from your hand into hers, and then to Druig. You pressed the remaining wedge to your lips, winking at them and settling back into your seat, keen to relax before you all were to depart. 
And when that time had arrived, you and Druig traipsed through the tall grass to the Domo, his hand in yours, Makkari on your other side, pressing her warmth into your waist. 
Before your group had departed, you had pressed a kiss to Phastos’ cheek, bidding Ben and Jack goodbye. Giving Jack a hug, you surreptitiously passed him one of your golden arrows with a wink – the arrow was blunted of course. By the time Phastos noticed it and had his subsequent heart attack, you would be long gone. Far from Phastos’ delicate, spinning rings and anxious-parent wrath. 
You settled once more into the space of the Domo, Makkari breaking off from the two of you to make her way to Phastos’ lab and her collection of treasures – some of which you had definitely, legally, helped her obtain. Never anyone mind. 
As you made your way down the hall, you brushed your fingertips over the corner with the tallied etchings of yours and Kingo's not-competition, a mild pang of sadness accompanying the ache in your chest.
You had wished Kingo was there to tell you goodbye. The Apollo to your Artemis, bidding you on your way with a sunshine smile and a wish for luck.
You and Druig made your way to his chamber, the room where you had spent so much time together, debating and discussing humanity, spirituality. Where you had discovered more about yourselves and one another. Where Druig had expressed his love for you time and again. 
You made to cross the room and settle yourself amongst Druig’s collection of pillows, as you had done countless times over the course of your years together. Never missing a beat at making yourself at home, no matter how much time had passed. 
“Wait,” Druig caught your wrist. “I have something for you.” 
“Oh?” You turned into his arms. “Was it this?” Fluidly shifting to the tips of your toes, you pressed a kiss to Druig’s lips, capturing his lower lip between your full ones and sucking lightly. Druig sighed softly into the kiss, his grip on your wrist tightening. 
Druig broke from you, looking down his prominent cheekbones at your countenance, his eyes flitting between yours and your sinful mouth. 
“Temptress,” he purred. The washing waves of his cerulean eyes reflecting his internal debate – to give you your gift, or to kiss you again? Five hundred years was so long a time to make up for.
The latter won out as he struck like a snake, decisive and agile, fastening his lips to the base of your jaw and trailing them down the elegant plane of your neck, tilting your head back as you groaned at his attention. The vibration from your throat a pleasant hum against his full lips. 
"Druig,” you sighed, “We've been alive for thousands of years … Helped nearly every conceivable language develop, and yet …” 
At the feeling of Druig's warm lips pressing firmly into the column of your throat, trailing down to kiss along your collarbones peeking through the soft collar of your shirt. The feeling of your voice reverberating beneath his attention as you graced him with your affectations, drowning one another in your mutual ardor, you found the will to speak.
"... Yet I'm not sure words still yet exist that would adequately convey the depth of my emotion, my feeling for you. But I can show you." You wound your fingers through Druig's soft hair, tugging lightly to break him away from your neck and bringing his eyeline back to yours. 
You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love.
Druig's crystalline eyes sparkled, a dizzying oceanic effect that made you feel as though the world had turned upside down -- for, surely, stars did not shine during the blue-skyed daytime. Or perhaps they did, as evidenced by the mischievous, adoring, cerulean gaze of the man before you.
"Show me?” At your nod, Druig understood. “So you would surrender control to me, my little hunter?" Druig murmured, his voice suggestive, a warm and pleasing bolt of silk against your skin.
The idea was a heady one, leaving you feeling drunker with power as the moments passed. Ironic, really. Everything was a bantering game between you and Druig, a display of companionable, bursting power met in equity. You, a marksman of singular focus; he, a man with a mind that was able to bend others to his will. 
The thought that you, the most powerful being he knew, would surrender yourself, the most secret corners of your mind, to him was enough to make him weak in the knees. And he was supposed to be the one with unsurpassed will. 
A promise to give him the thing he had tried to take before your separation all those years ago – the thing that tore you apart, to willingly allow him to use his power on you. The magnitude of your assent was not lost on him. 
Druig’s fingers skated along your arms, down your sides, to rest at your waist, his eyes never leaving your form as your eyes fluttered closed at his touch. 
You disentangled your fingers from Druig’s hair to bring a hand to grip his chin between your thumb and forefinger, nuzzling his nose with your own before trailing down to brush his lips with yours once more. The petal-like trace of your lips along Druig’s jaw whispered the long-held truth of your devotions into his skin. 
“You don't need your tricks for me to bend to your will,” you murmured, your lips brushing the skin of Druig’s cheek, “I'll bend however you like.”
A rumble emanated from your love at your proclamation. A subtle purring from Druig’s chest at your promise. 
“You don’t trust me, little hunter?” Druig murmured. “Trust that I know your mind … your body? Hm?” Druig’s hands slid from your waist, down your curves.
Druig guided you down to lie back on the pillows you had been heading for before, shedding his leather jacket as he went and allowing it to drop to the floor with an unceremonious, soft thump. 
Druig turned his attention to you. The stylishly torn jeans and simple, soft tee you had tucked into them were nothing but a nuisance to Druig now. Though you were delightfully beautiful in your modern garb, it was an obstacle to be absconded with as he became a man of singular focus. At the promise of what was to come; of what you would allow.
You reached for your beloved, allowing him to fold his body over yours as your lips met once more. Druig trailed his hands to your waist, where you swore you could feel his fingertips burning through the soft material of your shirt. 
You thanked whatever deity was listening for allowing you to feel this way again. 
Memories of your night together outside of the walls of Babylon flashed in your mind as Druig tugged your shirt from your waist and up, over your head, cradling the back of your neck as he did so. Always tender, courteous. 
The winking promise of mischief danced behind your hooded eyes as you looked up at your beloved from his place above you, a soft smile gracing your lips. His cheeky little hunter. Fox-like in disposition, quick and intuitive. True to your nature, you struck, shedding Druig’s shirt with quick, lithe fingers, and baring the pale canvas of his skin to you. 
As you made for the button of his jeans next, Druig caught your wrists. His grip firm, but not punishing, he leveled you with a glare you could only describe as warning. Guiding you back once more, Druig hovered over you, like waves returning at the turn of the tide, rushing and momentous. 
Druig squeezed your wrists before releasing them, allowing his hands to map the skin of your arms, your torso, reveling in the feel of you beneath his fingertips, every plane and prickling goosebump that awoke at his touch. 
The rasp of his skin along yours was something both you and he had thought you may never hear again, never feel again; and now that you had, you wouldn’t relinquish them so easily. And nor, it seemed, would he. 
He leaned forward, kissing his way down your neck, your chest, unclasping your bra and trailing his lips and hands down your torso before you knew what had happened. Your eyes fluttered closed at Druig’s affections, his touch ever-present and bordering on overwhelming as the honey-heat burning between your two bodies climbed, washing through the rest of the room. Druig’s attentions trailed golden lines of heat along your skin, sending sparks of starry champagne bubbling their way through you. 
You pulled Druig closer to you, winding your arms around him and bringing your legs up around either side of his waist, lacing your fingers along the back of his neck and threading your way through his hair, tugging lightly to bring him back to your eye-level.
You captured his lips with yours once more, nipping a teasing bite into his plush lower lip, delighting in the flush of the blood beneath the skin of his lips as a result of your attention. That his body still reacted to yours. You tugged again at his hair, causing him to groan into your mouth before breaking yours away. 
“I trust you, my love,” you hummed. Druig’s fingers teasing their way ever-closer to your center as you tugged his hair, the two of you panting into one another’s mouths. “You have my body. You can have my mind.”
At your declaration, Druig pressed his lips once more to yours, grinning wolfishly into his kiss. With no more preamble, the sky blue of his eyes bled gold, your beloved now nestling himself in the warmth of your mind, not unlike how he had in your body time and again throughout your centuries together. 
This was nothing like the time before in Tenochtitlan when he had tried to encourage you to leave with him. Then, your mind had been battered with conflict. Tormented with your inability to mend the fractures in your family, to soothe the ache wrought by their warring beliefs. A stormy sea frothing and roiling. Trying to appease him.
Now, your mind was balm. It was smooth, drifting snow. Crisp and even, as you gave yourself over to your beloved. It was the shining sky during a winter’s night – clear and bright, despite the surrounding dark. Every star alive, and all was shimmering lavender.
Another night in the sway of the flower moon.
Druig was awash in the warmth, the romance of your mind. The gold of his eyes was reflective of the rosy gold of your amorous thoughts, of your suit, of you. He could die happy amidst the loving, blushed hue that surrounded you every time you looked at him, thought of him, of your past, of your reunion, of your future. 
Every bit of the impulsive, pure love of Romeo and Juliet, none of the tragedy. Not anymore. You were besotted with him, amorous in the deepest sense, sure as the moon hangs in the night sky. 
Druig’s kisses were pure, like lake water. Blue-green and brisk, drowning you in its depths. A stark contrast to the heat of the room, yet, ironically, the cause and the symptom of said heat. His aura -- strength and subtle amusement, so like derision -- a tinge of cockiness… you supposed these things came from the ability to know the depths of a mind, to control it if he so saw fit. 
He would do anything you asked, because you asked it. And so, it seemed, would you … but only for him.
"Lie still, my love," Druig bid, your legs dropping from their place around his waist as he pulled back to kick off his boots and the remaining articles of his clothing.
You watched your beloved bare himself to you from behind the honey haze of Druig's influence that clouded your eyes. He leaned over you again, hooking his fingers in the belt loops of your jeans to tug you down the mass of blankets and pillows to meet his body, slotting yourselves gently together.
Reverent was the only way to describe the way he was looking at you now, trailing his fingers along your torso to pop the buttons of your jeans.
"Will you undress for me, Selene?" Druig's voice was everywhere. Inside your mind, in your ears, echoing in your mouth like the taste of copper.
You did as Druig bid, your hands following the familiar lines of your body through the strange filter of your love's mind. Rendering your own touch foreign to you, get familiar all at once. 
What a strange dichotomy, your mind whispered to you from somewhere far away. 
"Isn't it nice like this?" Druig breathed, "So … compliant."
Your head was buzzing, full of warm pleasant thoughts that hadn't been there before, thoughts of touching yourself, of trailing your fingertips along your breasts, across the plains and valleys of your body. Of sliding them through your now-damp folds. 
You could distantly hear yourself, sighing in pleased gasps at the touch that was yours, but also not-yours.
Druig felt himself harden as he knelt before you, over you. He had dreamt of you nearly every night for centuries. He wouldn't let slip the opportunity to touch you, to make his dreams a reality. 
That he could make yourself touch you in all the ways he had dreamt … that you wanted him to. He could feel, hear your assent, pleasant in your thoughts.
He watched and dictated as you slid a finger inside of yourself, swearing he could feel the warmth of your core as it registered in your own mind at your touch, as you teased your own body. First one finger, then another, slick building. Swearing that he could register the heat climbing through you, as though it was his own, as you fucked yourself on your own fingers, hips rolling to meet your touch.
“Feel your way,” Druig coaxed, his hands sliding along your thighs. 
A keening moan tore it's way through you at his words. When had your other hand cupped your breast? The rolling of your nipple by your teasing, plucking fingertips was like kindling to the fire building within you.
Was it your own idea, or was it Druig's, that had you withdrawing your fingers from your center, sliding the wetness gathered there along Druig's length, and pumping him slowly as he leaned over you. Overwhelming your senses. 
Your touch on his body. The taste of his kisses in your mouth. The sound of his groans in your ears. His thoughts melding with yours in a pleasant, burgundy haze that tasted vaguely warm and metallic.
Druig's touch replaced yours along your own body as he allowed you to continue toying with his. Willing you to touch him as he liked best, while he made to kiss you again, his fingers slipping down to glide through your soaked, heated folds before swirling over your clit. 
The heat in the room continued to climb as Druig played and plucked at your body. His grip on your mind began to slip as your collective pleasure climbed. You were coming back into your own mind, your own body as you were simultaneously inching closer to unraveling.
Even in his lovemaking, Druig couldn't resist cleverness and irony, it seemed.
You used your newfound faculties to release Druig from your grip, to pull him over you, his body dwarfing yours. To tug him closer, closed, closer to where you wanted him. Druig's fingers continued to toy with you, fingers curling inside of you as his thumb delicately traced and pressed against your clit. You wiggled your hips, desperate for more, wrapping your legs once more around Druig's tapered waist. 
"Please," you gasped, eyes locked with his molten ones, swirling like melting ice in the heat of your passion.
You gripped Druig's arms, scratching at his shoulders, his biceps, his back, everything you could reach as you felt yourself inching ever-closer to your peak.
Druig could feel that you were getting closer at his hands. Could feel the way you clenched. The way you throbbed around his fingers. Could feel the ache in your body as he toyed with it, and with your mind. The way you bucked your hips into his hands.
"Will you tell me what you want, my little hunter?" Druig teased from his position stop you, leaning into your space to whisper hotly into your ear. "I'll do what you ask," he parroted your words from earlier.
"Please, Dru, w-want this -- w-want you," you whimpered, a broken moan cracking it's way through the end of your plea at a particularly, deliciously cruel curl of Druig's fingers inside of you.
"Of course, love," his tone would have been cruel, would have been mocking, if you hadn't known that was all part of his little game. You rolled your hips again at his tone, willing him to do something now.
Even if he wasn't capable of reading your thoughts, the intention would have been enough.
Druig slid his fingers from your core, causing you to emit another broken whine, this time at the loss.
Quick as a flash, he lightly swatted your thigh.
You yelped, meeting his haughty eyes with a glare of your own. 
"Don't be insolent, hunter," Druig rumbled, inclining to press his front to yours more fully, bringing a hand to your throat and pressing lightly along it's column as he hissed into your ear, "Little girls who whine don't get what they want. I won’t help the ache you feel if you aren’t nice."
"Please, my love," you urged again, sweetly, sweetly. 
Druig chuckled darkly, nodding as he lined himself up with your center, hand still wrapped loosely around your throat as he surged into you. 
And oh. The throbbing emptiness you had felt without him was almost worth it if it meant you could feel so full, so whole, now.
You gasped into Druig's mouth, pleased with the groan he emitted in turn at being once more inside of you. Ever-haughty.
He met your lips with a nipping bite as he began to thrust into you, your hips rocking to meet him in kind. At this rate you were certain your lips and throat would feel the sting of his teeth, of his grip, for days. A blooming feeling rushed through you at the thought, the flickers blending into your pleasure.
Everything was swirling. White, fogged glass like looking out at a winter snowstorm.  Blinding, stark pleasure building within you both.
"Missed you, Selene," Druig whimpered, his moans becoming slurred as he rocked harder, rougher into you. His needs outweighing the control he prided himself on.
Druig relinquished his grip on your throat to rub once more at your clit. 
You knew Druig wouldn't last much longer if the cadence of his thrusts, his gasps, was any indication. You had wanted to take more time to mark him, to make him yours. A swath of purpling blooms growing along the expanse of Druig’s pale skin beneath your lips, blossoming beneath your attentions in equal parts pleasure and pain as you toyed with him in perpetuity.
The thought was enough to spur you forward, ever-closer to your peak. You settled for gripping, scratching at Druig's back, causing him to groan. Your touch on his body, your hands -- so very wanted.
Your orgasm washed over you at a particularly clever thrum of Druig's fingers, rolling your hips against him to ride out your high, clenching and releasing as Druig followed after you with a drawn-out groan.
You took in the sight of your beloved, delightfully open and so removed from his usually stoic demeanor in moments like this. Just as you remembered. He was panting lightly, skin flushed and lightly glistening with the sweat from your encounter, eyes starry and far-seeing.
He was beautiful. Like this, yes. But ever-so. And he was yours.
You pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of Druig's mouth as he withdrew from you, the two of you in no hurry to disentangle, but gently righting yourselves.
"I missed you too, my love," you said softly, trailing your fingers over the peak of his cheekbone. "I don't wish to be parted from you."
You don't know how long the two of you lay together, enjoying the feeling of the other's body pressed into them, of even and serene breathing. Perhaps the two of you had even drifted off, dreaming of the promise of a true eternity together.
When you were ready to emerge, the two of you had dressed, orienting yourselves before going to find the others. Druig had arranged his jacket once more over his shoulders. He crossed the room to you, standing over you and pressing his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and once more allowing himself to feel your presence alongside his. 
You leaned into his touch. Allowing yourself to greedily bask in this moment. No matter how many moments your long life had graced you with, few had carried this magnitude. Few had made you feel as safe, as wanted, as you did with the man before you know. 
"I love you, Druig," you speak plainly, firmly. No quaver of doubt in your voice.
At that, Druig broke from you softly. Digging into the pocket of his leather jacket for the gift from before, shoulders flexing beneath the fabric as he withdrew his hand from the pocket.
His palm upturned, revealing the gift he had been keeping for you for centuries. In the hopes that he might see you again to give it to you. 
“You mean more to me than their silver and gold. But if this is how I can show my love on this planet, I'll do it." 
With that, Druig slid a delicate rose gold band onto your finger, causing you to smile warmly at him, at the symbol of his eternal bond to you. 
“I wonder who invented this as a gesture of devotion,” you had mused. 
The memory, which had taken place in this very room, clearly prominent between the two of you. The symbol, reminiscent. 
“It is beautiful, Dru. But you know I don’t need objects to reflect or accept your love,” you affirmed. “It is enough to be with you. By your side. To receive your warmth.”
With that, you slid your arms across Druig’s shoulders, divesting him of the leather jacket so quickly he would have thought he had imagined it had it not been for the cool air biting the now-bare skin of his arms. 
“So much for not needing an object,” Druig chuckled, bumping his shoulder into yours. 
You slipped Druig’s jacket over your shoulders, Druig’s body heat soaking into your skin like the radiance of the sun through the silky lining of the jacket, the zippers at the cuffs clinking as you adjusted the garment to your form. 
“What?” You shrugged at Druig’s look of mild surprise. “I said I’d like your warmth. What are you going to do? Fight me for it?” You challenged, arching your brow at him as a golden arrow weaved its way between your fingers, tapping it against Druig’s thigh in playful, mock-warning.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, mo shíorghrá,” Druig chuckled. “Keep it. ‘T looks better on you anyway.” He slid a companionable arm over your shoulders as the two of you made to leave the room and find the others. 
“We can agree to disagree on that, but I’ll hang onto the jacket until a quorum is reached,” you teased, bumping your hip against Druig’s as you walked in tandem down the hall of the Domo toward Phastos’ lab where you could hear Makkari sorting through a pile of what sounded like books.
“Benevolent of you, really,” Druig pressed a kiss into your cheek, brushing his nose across the prominent bone there. “Suppose we have time to decide.”
As you made your way into the cool light of the lab, Makkari greeted you, placing her warm hands in yours. You wrapped your arms around her, delighted in your reunion now that you all could breathe and enjoy one another’s company again, departing on another adventure. Together.
The next thread warping its way through the loom of your lives. To and fro, to and fro. Together you remain, body and soul. 
–--
Tagging: @aphrogeneias @luxurybeskar @youhavemysaber @thematthewmurdock @inklore @joannasteez @blessedboo @cinewhore @superhoeva @themarcusmoreno @vaxxildan @justanotherblonde23 @spoopyredacted @ifimayhaveaword @phoenixhalliwell @forever-rogue @cryptidcody @noturjacky @flightlessangelwings @bendro-pascarnes @pettyprocrastination @agirllovespaghetti @jenrebloggingfics @steeeeeeeviebb-deactivated20220 @imogenswitchbolt @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @artsymaddie @wvndasmaximoff @moonlight-prose @cryinginsanity @miss-me-jack @xthenewgurlintown @calsjack @raegansthings @acciosiriusblack @druigsgold​ 
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dnvrsmedia · a month ago
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Can I request a Nat x r where r uses the strap for the first time with Nat and being insecure they won’t satisfy Nat like Bruce or other her past lovers but Nat reassures r and then r makes Nat cum like she never has before? Please and thank you❤️❤️
Love On Me
Needy!Nat x reader
18+ MDNI
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an: tysm for this request! so sorry for it being late but as I mentioned before I am still settling in at uni! I really enjoyed writing & i hope you enjoy reading just as much <3
Frantic movements and clashing teeth quicken with fervor as Natasha grinds on top of your lap. Needy groans slip past her lips as she tries to pull your bodies impossibly closer. You separate from her lips and smirk at the whine that leaves her lips. Her plump lips chase yours with a frown as you back away. If you weren’t immensely horny you would think it was cute.
“What’s gotten into you? Hmm?” You ask sweetly as you tuck a piece of her fiery hair behind her ear. Her breath heaves as she tries to pounce. You can’t help but giggle at her eagerness. You put your palm on her sternum and press lightly. Nat’s face flushed as she is forced to use her words.
“I need you so bad, honey.” She whines and presses her soft pillows on your jaw, biting slightly. You let out a groan and almost instinctively grab her hips.
“I need you to use the strap on me, please. Need you to fill me up good!” She seductively bites and moans into your ear.
A shiver runs down your back. Natasha who is the more experienced and dominant one in your relationship is now practically falling apart for you. You would be stupid if you didn’t race at the chance to have this beautiful woman at your beck and call. Yet, all you can think about is if you’ll ever equate to the partners shes previously had. Nat was your first, and hopefully your last. She showed you the ropes in terms of your sexuality and you are terrified of being a disappointment. The need to make her feel like the most special woman on earth runs deep in everything you do.
Nat notices your hesitation. You’ll never speak it out loud, but having a spy girlfriend who is trained in all things non verbal communication doesn’t really make hiding things easy.
Natasha moves her hands to rest at the nape if your neck, forcing you to look into her eyes.
“Detka, what’s the matter?”
You shake your head and move to kiss her. Your unsuccessful attempt at skipping this conversation quickly ended when Natasha disconnected your lips from hers. Tasha took your hands in her own as she stared deep in your eyes.
“I am immensely needy right now but we are not doing anything until I know what’s going on.” Nat sweetly kisses you cheek and caresses your hand. You know that you’ll forever and always be safe with Nat.
“I want to do this, fuck. You have no idea how much I want this-“
“But?” Nat looks very vulnerable right now. This is what you didn’t want in the first place. Nat opened up about her previous experiences early on in your sexual relationship. Her vulnerability didn’t come easy and yet here you are with her. You shake your head profusely and take a deep breath.
“What if i’m not enough? What if I can’t make you feel as good as you make me feel?”
Natasha shook her head with a warm glint in her eyes.
“Oh detka…” She shakes her head and kisses you passionately and pushes you back onto the bed. She seductively trails her teeth up your neck until she reaches your ear.
“You’re gonna put on the strap and you’re gonna fuck me. You’re gonna make me cum and have my legs shaking. You’d like that, hmm? Splitting me in half with your cock. Cus I need that so fucking bad, please. Just please I need you so bad!”
You let out an almost animalistic growl. Need is seeping out of your pores as Nat grinds her hot cunt onto your thigh. You don’t know what came over you but you gain all the confidence in the world. You flip Natasha onto her back and place your knee in between her heat. She lets out a whiny moan, desperate for more.
“God you’re so pretty for me. I need to fill you up right now, need to fuck you till you can’t remember your name.” You pull off her clothing in a hurry. Your mouth latches onto her over sensitive nipples. Her back arches closer to you as her hands snake to the nape of your neck and tug.
“Please!” She whimpers hotly. You smirk at just how needy she is. Her state makes you want to make her feel the best you can.
“Don’t you worry, pretty girl. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” You whisper in her ear before you move away from her and get yourself situated. The look of pure lust on her face as you strip in front of her. You do struggle with putting on the strap for a bit. Natasha gets on her knees in front of you to help with the harness. Your breath leaves your body for a moment when she takes the faux cock into her mouth while maintaining eye contact.
You can’t help but thrust your hips into her wet and inviting mouth. The feeling of the strap nuzzling up against your clit as she sloppily blows you feels euphoric. You don’t know how much longer you can wait. You need to be in her; splitting her in half. You remove her from your strap and push her onto the bed. You take the strap between your hand and tease her clit.
Nat moans out loudly wantonly as she begs for more. Her hands snake down to your hand i hopes to speed things up. You tsk as you continue teasing her. Being the more dominant one doesn’t happen very often, so you are enjoying all of your time. Her whines grow louder as time goes on. Her sopping cunt drips on to the silk sheets with no remorse. Your mouth opens in awe at how worked up she is.
“Shh, baby” You coo, “I’m gonna make you feel so good.” You give her one last bruising kiss before you slide your strap fully. Something comes over you as you pound into Natasha. You get drunk off her loud moans and whimpers as you thrust deep into her. The only thing on you mind is how much you need to make her cum. You have turned Nat into a babbling mess. Her hair is thrashed about on the pillow and drool slides out from her mouth onto the bed below.
“Hmm, fuck I- hmph please! So good y/n! please baby please need it so bad.” She slurs as he eyes struggle to maintain eye contact. You’re grunting into her due to the sensation of the strap snugly grinding into you. As Nat lets out a wonton moan, you start to struggle with the strap. She’s clenching so tight that you knew it was almost time for her to cum. Your hand slides down her body and lays purchase on her swollen bundle of nerves. Your fingers rigorously massage her clit as your thrusts don’t let up. Natasha cannot form sensical sentences at this point. Her body is thrashing and fingers grip onto whatever she can get her hands on to brace her. You’re basically drooling at this point. You can feel your own orgasm sneaking up on you as you watch the woman you love fall apart under you.
“Fuck, baby you’re doing so good for me. I wanna come together.” You groan at the sight of her bucking her hips into you. “Can you do that, hmm?” She nods and you kiss her forehead. Your thrusting continues as the familiar feeling starts growing stronger. Your thrusts falter the closer you get.
“Baby I need you to cum for me, okay? I can’t last much longer I need you to cum. Come one princess, come for me.” You begged as you couldn’t hold your orgasm back any longer.
Seeing you fall apart from pleasing Natasha was the last nail in the coffin for her. Guttural moans surfaced from her as she came underneath you. She was blissed out to notice the rushing fountain that was expelled between her legs. You looked in awe at the beauty in front of you.
Your thrusts slow to a complete stop. The only noise in the room is the sound of your labored breaths. You slowly remove the strap from inside of your lover. Her quiet whine at the feeling of being empty is heard. You lean down and lovingly kiss her. Slow and sensual is the name of the game and you want to make her feel loved.
Natasha snaps back into reality with a lazy smile and a peck to your wrist.
“Hi baby.” She smirks while playing with your hair. You grow back to your shy self as you’re unable to maintain eye contact with your lover. You face plant into the crevasse of her neck and shoulder with a groan. Natasha let’s put a hearty laugh at you.
“You just gave me the best sex of my life and now you’re all shy? You are ridiculous.” She giggles and you groan once more.
You both will definitely be doing this again.
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eddiesbug · 4 months ago
Text
eager [f.castle]
summary: you come home to your boyfriend hammered and clingy. secrets are revealed.
pairing: frank castle x fem!reader
fandom: mcu
word count: 1347
warnings: reader throws up, literally all fluff n loving, frank being the bestest<33, touch starved reader, a little talk about reader punishing herself, frank uses all the good pet names😋 and he cooks!!
note: i’m back from being banned😭🤭 i had so much fun n i’m so proud of this so if anyone is mean I WILL CRY. and i’m sorry there’s no readmore line again but tumblr is all buggy and deleting bits every time i put one in:((
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“Fr-Frankie!” Your voice slurs as you worm your way into Frank’s lap, your head lolling with the effects of the alcohol. Your mini dress rides up as you climb and he presses his fingers into the soft curve of your hip, drawing you in. You settle into him with a smile.
“Hi, pretty girl,” he chuckles. He didn’t know what exactly to expect when you came home hammered at 2am, but it wasn’t this. You’re not overly fond of affection at the best of times, pretty much avoiding contact altogether, so for you to be initiating this at all, zero coaxing involved, is strange.
“I missed you,” you giggle, craning into him as he pushes the hair from your sweaty face. A hum rips from your throat and you hook your arms underneath his on the sofa. He brushes his nose across your jaw.
“I missed you too, baby. You feelin’ alright?” he asks, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead; you’re hot to the touch. You nod, pressing your nose to the juncture of his neck and inhaling; you’re met with the scent of slight sweat and the last tinge of cologne from the previous day.
“So pretty…” you say, your hand reaching out to stroke Frank’s face in bewilderment.
“Hm?”
“You.”
“I’m pretty?” he laughs.
“The pr-pre-prettiest.” Your words start to merge into one and he shushes you, soft lips grazing your temple.
“My girl is prettier,” he answers, voice dripping with sincerity. You frown, head shooting up to meet his eyes.
“Who’s your girl?” you ask, the beginnings of tears getting stuck in your throat. In your inebriated state, you have honestly forgotten that Frank is your boyfriend. “I’m- I’m gonna f-fight her.”
“What’re you gonna cry for, baby? I’m talkin’ ‘bout you.” He keeps his tone light, cupping the back of your head with his calloused hand.
“Oh.”
“Silly thing. Why would I want anyone but you?”
“‘Cause I never wanna cuddle,” you pout. He shakes his head.
“I don’t care about that. Sure, it’s nice to cuddle, but I want you to be happy most of all.”
“Can I tell you a sec-secret?” you whisper, although it’s comically loud - almost louder than your normal speaking voice. You hiccup, pestering your way further into his lap.
“Yeah?”
“I always wanna cuddle.”
“That so?”
“Y-yeah. Scared you’ll get annoyed so I don’t say anythin’. Wait for you to ask.” His expression softens and he kisses your head. He never realised that you might be depriving yourself of touch to punish yourself, or worse, because you thought you’d be irritating him. He can’t get enough of you.
“Oh, baby. My baby.” Drawing you closer, his body engulfs yours completely; you mumble something halfheartedly, curling into him. Everything seems to shake ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly and you’re sure Frank doesn’t notice. He catches your expression, brow furrowing. His closeness has you breaking into a full body flush. “You’re shaking, darlin’.”
“Jus’ don’t let go of me,” you whisper, pressing your face to his chest.
“Alright, ‘ve got you.”
You stay like that for a while, cradled in his arms, eyes closed, until your stomach lurches uneasily. You blanch, dry heaving.
“Frankie…”
“Mm.”
“Gonna be sick.” You retch, trying to scramble free of Frank’s grasp and run to the bathroom. Instead, he lifts you with virtually no effort, sitting you in front of the toilet and gathering your hair at the nape of your neck just in time for you to start emptying your stomach contents. He soothes you with the softest voice, kissing the back of your neck and whispering encouraging words despite how disgusting you must look right now.
“Attagirl,” he murmurs, “What a good girl.” Your eyes flutter closed and you slump against the toilet seat, breathing heavily. He immediately lifts you, flushing the vomit away and closing the seat; just that helps the nausea ebb away as the seconds pass. He perches you on the seat, wiping your sweaty face with a cold cloth and grabbing the toothbrush you keep at his apartment at all times. He spreads a little toothpaste over the bristles, parting your lips with his thumb and brushing them gently.
“Good girl, let’s rinse your mouth,” he coos; you oblige without thinking, letting him hold you up by the waist and wipe your face with a towel. Your body goes completely lax and he cushions your head with his shoulder, handling you as though you’ll break at any second.
“Love you,” you mumble, hooking your legs around his waist as he hoists you into his arms. He makes for the kitchen with you securely in his hold.
“I love you too. You feel a bit better now?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s get you some water and something to eat, pretty.”
“‘m not hungry!” you squeak, hiccuping drunkenly, although you’re considerably less plastered than when you got home.
“You don’t have to eat it, but it might help soak up some of the alcohol, alright?”
“‘kay…” you trail off, worrying your lip between your teeth.
“What you thinkin’ about, hm?”
“Nothin’.”
“I can hear the gears turning. C’mon, out with it.” He kneads your side with sympathetic fingers, squeezing and releasing, squeeze, release.
“‘s it okay if I wanna touch more? Like cuddle ‘nd hold your hand?” Your voice is a fragment of its usual volume and you wince, preparing yourself for the rejection before he even has time to react.
“How could I say no to that, hm?” The relief at his statement is palpable. “If you wanna hang onto me forever like a little koala bear, I wouldn’t say no to you. You know that, baby. I want you to have everythin’ you’ve ever wanted.”
“Jus’ want you,” you murmur, peppering a trail of kisses over his face and neck. “Love you so much.”
“C’mon, my pretty. Whatcha fancy to eat?” He smiles, setting you down on a stool, hands out to catch you should you wobble tipsily. Once he’s sure you’re steady, he moves to the fridge. “How about some eggs?” You shake your head, nose scrunched.
“They make me feel sicky.”
“Alright, darlin’. How about pasta?”
“Pasta sounds good, Frankie.”
“Pasta it is, baby.”
You admire him shamelessly as he busies himself with your meal, ogling his thick biceps and his sharp jawline. The black t-shirt he wears hugs him just right, exposing his muscular physique to you.
“You enjoying the show, darlin’?” he drawls amusedly, sending you a cheeky wink. You flush, averting your eyes.
“Sorry.”
“C’mere, pretty girl.” His arms open and you wobble off of the stool and into his embrace. The affection, still so abnormal to you, makes you tremble.
“I’ve gotcha, baby. Not lettin’ you go anytime soon.”
Finally, when he’s finished making the pasta, something you never thought someone would do for you, let alone at half past two in the morning, he sets it onto the table and sits down, inviting you into his lap. You clamber onto him, hands roaming his chest. You’re eager to feel his skin on yours, fingers splayed over his throat and under his t-shirt. This new found appreciation for his touch has made you greedy and Frank is in heaven.
“Should’a gotten you drunk sooner if I knew you’d be this needy, baby.” He beams at you, dotting kisses over the entire expanse of your face. With his free hand, he spears a piece of pasta with a fork and lifts it to your lips. “Here, darlin’.” You take it gratefully, humming.
“‘s good!”
“Attagirl.”
You eat in silence until you’re full, pushing the bowl away and curling your body into Frank’s.
“Sorry I kept you up.”
“I couldn’t sleep without my girl anyway.”
You giggle; the lilting sound compels Frank to kiss you, his lips melding against yours like a puzzle piece.
Before he can find it in himself to move you, you’re fast asleep against his shoulder, snoring softly with your arms underneath his t-shirt, cool against his warm skin. You cling to him even as you sleep soundly.
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chryist · a day ago
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𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄
kate bishop x fem!reader
synopsis kate brings some fun to a boring ball
cont smut, dom!kate, oral, semi-public sex, established relationship, lowercase intended
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the sight of people walking around and congregating makes you gag. “remind me why you brought me here?” “my mom wanted you to come.” you scan the room for eleanor. “she’s focused on jack, lets go.” “come on, just stay with me.” she gets in front of you, placing her arms on your waist. you look in her eyes, finally caving in. “but it’s so boring.” you whine. “i know, i know.” the conversation goes silent. “you know, you look nice in a tux.” she eyes you up and down, “you don’t look to bad yourself.” “kate bishop, how are you?” armand comes from behind both of you. “uh, armand right?” “yes, and you are?” “she’s my girlfriend.” “nice to meet you. well, kate, how do you feel about your mother’s engagement?” “what?” “she didn’t tell you?” kate turns to the both of them, laughing. her blood boils, “i’m ecstatic.” she lies. “well, don’t think about it too hard.” he pats her shoulder. she balls her fists. “need some help?”
“fuck.” kate presses you up against the door, kissing you. she pulls you pants down, lifting your legs over her shoulders. she presses kiss on thighs. “quit teasin’.” you mewl. she licks a stripe along your clothed clit. you wither. she hooks finger around the hem, pulling them down. your wetness and her saliva make lube, plunging her tongue in and out of you. “kate.” her stuffs her face deeper in between your thighs, her breath hitting your cunt. her tongue leaves your sleeve, leaving you empty. her tongue glides from your slit to your clit, sucking on it. “jesus, kate.” you grip her hair. she moans into you. “fuckk.” your moans are drawn out. she lets go of your clit, making a pop noise. “so delicious.” she shakes her head, moving her tongue everywhere. “shit, oh my god.”
“you look happy now.” you chuckle, fixing her hair. “thank you, i needed that.” “we all need ball quickies.”
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chryist’s work. do not copy/steal/translate.
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couldbeurbaby · 18 days ago
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Charge me up like electricity; wanda maximoff
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Summary : You and Wanda have gotten very close since your night at the bar, but when it starts getting serious, she becomes cold and distant. Who is she?
Warnings : 18+, age gap, violence, swearing, corruption, innocence kink, mommy kink, angst, fluff, fingering (r receiving), strap on use (r receiving), thigh riding (r giving), manipulation, arguing, praise, aftercare, slight edging
A/N : soft yet slightly dark dom wanda has my heart forever
Dni if youre a minor please!
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You couldn't remember anything. The last memory you were sure of was Wanda picking you up at your house to go to the bar. The rest of the story could be assumed from that little memory. You would have been angry at someone for getting you so drunk, but Wanda wasn't just someone. She was special to you. You weren't sure why but she was. She had been the second you had laid your eyes on her in the cafè.
The thumping of your head was enough to pull a groan from your lips, eyes slowly opening. The light coming through the curtains seemed as though it was so bright that the sun was directly outside of your window, peeking in. The room looked unfamiliar, and for a second you thought it was just the hangover and the light, however directing your eyes to a darker spot of the room you were in proved that it really wasn't your room at all. Slight fear coursed through your body, increasing when you felt two pairs of arms wrap delicately around your waist. You really didnt want to have had a one night stand. You'd never had one because you didn't like putting yourself out there like that. You were totally okay with anyone who did, but you liked connection and people who didn't just want you for the night. Your hands met your face as you attempted to convince yourself this was just some very bad nightmare. When you pulled your hands away, everything was just the same.
"Good morning sweet girl." A familiar voice whispered gently, probably when they realised you were awake. It took you a few seconds, but eventually your mind registered who the voice belonged to.
"Wanda?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. A soft and tender kiss was pressed into your cheek. Definitely Wanda's lips. You didn't know how you knew the belonged to her, because you'd never kissed her before...
"Shit-did we? Did we just have a-" you asked , your voice clearly panicked. Was that all she ever wanted you for? This was very awkward.
"A one night stand? No. Just kissed. Thats all. I want you to remember if I fuck you." Wanda teased, but the tone of her voice proved she was being honest. That warmed your heart, and the last part of her response had butterflies appearing in your stomach, your cheeks heating up and turning a soft pink in colour. You mustered up what energy you could to turn and face her, your heart melting at the sight, as your breath hitched. Who knew someone could be so gorgeous this early?
A warm smile crossed her lips, one you had been met with numerous times before, the one you'd fallen head over heels with.
"How's your head? You got very drunk." Wanda pointed out, her voice still barely above a whisper as one of her hands found its way into your hair, gently combing through. It was a soothing action, one that melted you even further into her.
"Hurts." You mumbled , your voice soft as you spoke. She made a sympathetic sound, but you couldn't tell if she meant it or not. You were totally clueless that she had actually helped you get as drunk as you got, and she knew that.
"I'll help you out today, okay? All you have to do is sit back and be nice and cute for me, okay?" Wanda cooed as she sat up, preparing to get out of bed. Her words had your mind all fuzzy and melted, you could barely even think of your response. The only thing you could think about was how much better those words would sound if her hands were on your body.
"Answer me. Do you understand, yes or no?" She snapped, bringing you out of your daydream in an instant. You'd never seen her so...possessive. You nodded feebly, eyes fixed onto hers due to the tight grip she had on your chin, forcing you to stare up at her.
"I understand." You complied. Her sweet smile returned at that. She set another few kisses on your cheek before reluctantly heading downstairs.
Whilst Wanda was gone, you took the time to have a look around her room. She had been in yours countless times and was often the main place the two of you went after work. Speaking of which, you didn't even know what she worked as, you just knew it didn't take long.
Wanda's room was mainly a mix of blacks, greys, occasional spots of white and beiges. The only spot of colour beside that was given by the two plants she had settled on both of the nightstands, one on each. Two photos hung above her bed, one of herself when she was younger with who you assumed to be her family, and another of her and a man. He had blonde hair and wore a light blue shirt, a tie attatched to the collar with a dark blue jumper over the top, topped off with a warm, brown coat. They looked happy together and you hoped you weren't intruding on a relationship of Wanda's. You didn't really know anything about her love life either.
You drew your eyes away from the photos and swung your legs off the side. Two accompanied the plants on the nightstands, however the drawers didn't hold anything interesting. You got up and wandered toward her wardrobe, filled with clothes, mostly coloured dark red or black. A vanity took its place on the wall opposite her bed, and you looked around there before you checked the little bookcase in the corner of the room. Wanda seemed to be a very big Philip Pullman fan as the first shelf on the bookcase was filled with his books. You had read one or two, however not enough to know what all the craze was.
Wanda seemed to have very specific taste in everything, from colours to books. In a way, that comforted you. You didnt like too much change and so knowing she probably didnt either relaxed you in some way.
However, despite all of your looking, none of what lay in her room gave any sort of hint to who she was.
Who was she really?
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Wanda was aware that you'd never been in her room before let alone ever step foot in her house, so she had no doubt you were snooping around. She knew it was likely you would see the photos, but she couldn't ever bring herself to take them down. Those (besides a few other bits and pieces) were the only things she had left of those who she had loved before. Wanda refused to erase them from her past, and so in every room there was always something to keep them alive.
Always.
Something.
She honestly was having a slight hangover herself and so the most she could bring herself to make was some toast. She got out two plates and set them on the counter ready, and in the meantime began to make you both some coffee.
Having someone in her house felt odd. It'd been such a long time since Wanda had any company that it felt like a totally new thing, but it was one she only wanted to explore with you. She had never thought she'd ever get attatched to anyone since Vision's death, however she did, and it was you. You were the light to her darkest days, the days when she thought she would never see the light again, you were her world, you were the sweetness to her bitter soul.
And she adored you.
All of you.
From the way you scrunched your nose when you saw her across the room to the way you were adamant to holding her hand on the street so the two of you didn't get lost. You had her wrapped around your finger, you just didn't know it. Wanda wanted nothing more than you, no one more than you.
You were everything she needed.
The toast pinged up when it had finished and she set them out on plates, spread butter them over with a knife before getting out a tray. She set the plates on them , a mug beside each one followed by some aspirin each before beginning on her way back upstairs, her eyes avoiding the photos hung on the wall and instead focusing on the tray on her hands.
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When Wanda re-entered the room, you were laying on your stomach on her bed, book between your hands. You were always interested in the little bits of Wanda that she would show to you, and you wanted to get everything out of her. You wanted to be able to get her to ramble to you about all of these books and you wanted to understand what she was saying when she did.
Your eyes lifted when you heard the door open, your head turning briefly, met with that same warm smile you weren't even aware you'd been missing this whole time. She set the tray down on the bed and found her way beside you, tilting her head at the book between your hands.
"You have lots of these books. Is he your favourite author?" You asked curiously, your eyes glued onto hers. Wanda shrugged dismissively.
"Not my favourite author, really. His books are good, though." She stated calmly. You tilted your head this time.
"If he isn't your favourite, why do you have all of his books?" You questioned. You didn't realise, but Wanda's already short patience was beginning to thin.
"He loved them." She mumbled out through gritted teeth. Your eyes moved to the photo above her head, the one of her and the man.
"Is he your boyfriend?" You asked again. Without another word, Wanda snatched the book from your hands and closed it, getting up and returning it to the designated spot on her bookshelf.
"Enough about me." Wanda snapped, something you weren't very used to. She hadn't ever snapped at you before, though you had never actually questioned anything about her past.
She returned to her spot on the bed, taking her plate and settling it into her lap. She picked up a piece of toast, turning to you first.
"Tell me all about yourself, Y/N." Wanda told you, though it was more of a demand than it was a suggestion.
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The next few months past exactly like that. You were at Wanda's house often, however she would never give up anything about her past, or even her feelings towards you. At first you thought maybe she just needed time to come around, but you'd given her time, and there was nothing, and it was causing you to get very moody around her.
During a movie night at hers, she noticed this. Wanda had, in all seriousness, been watching you more than she had the movies on the screen. Usually you would curl into her side and her arm would wrap around you, however this time you sat with your back to the headboard, arms folded across your chest, stubborn frown clear as day on your lips.
"Whats the problem?" Wanda asked, pausing the movie so you would focus on her. You tried not to let it all out, but it just came out the second the words had left her soft, perfect lips.
"You dont talk to me, Wanda. I dont know anything about you, but you know everything about me!" You snapped, your eyes glaring furiously at her.
"If this is about-" she began, but you cut her off.
"I dont know how you feel about me. Since the night in the bar, you've given me little to nothing! I've gotten no direct communication, you haven't even given me hints. I cant keeping going on not knowing what we are. Its either you tell me or im leaving, and we never get into contact again. Im not here for you to love when you feel like it. Im here for you to love forever or never." You finished, and her breath hitched at your words. You expected her to get angry at your snapping at her, but instead she cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter. Nothing. No words.
The two of you sat in silence for what seemed like decades.
"Are you blind, Y/N?" She asked finally, confusion washing over you in an instant.
"Huh?" You questioned.
"I asked if youre blind. Youre probably deaf, too. " she shrugged, getting you even more confused and angry.
"What are you even talking about?" You asked, rising frustration clear in your insistent tone of voice.
"The things ive said to you, the things ive done to you. They were hints, sweet girl. The constant kisses, confessions and cuddle sessions proved nothing to you?" Wanda teased, smirling slightly as she watched your cheeks turn a rose shade of pink .
You had thought she was doing it all just to be nice and hadnt ever though much of it. Before you could go to apologise for your previous outburst, she began talking again.
"I adore you. I adore you with all my heart and soul, but maybe I havent been clear enough." She hummed, moving to straddle your lap carefully, her hands cupping your cheeks as though you were the most fragile and precious thing in the world. Wanda had a sort of look in her eyes you hadnt ever witnessed before, and it was slightly intimidating.
"So let me show you." She whispered seductively, her lips catching yours in a hungry yet soft kiss just seconds after.
It seemed she couldnt decide whether she wanted to be quick, passionate and rough or soft, romantic and sensual because her actions were brutal, but her touches were soft and tender. It left your mind confused and it began to quickly grow fuzzy.
Her hands met the bottom of your shirt, tugging on it slightly. You automatically lifted your arms and she pulled it off, her hands snaking around to your back to unclasp your bra.
"Wanda-"
"Shh baby, mommys got you. Gonna be nice and gentle, okay? Dont you worry your pretty little head sweetheart." She cooed against your neck, leaving rough marks as her hands pulled your bra off gently.
Her kisses moved down to your breasts, showing them equal attention before moving down your stomach.
Soft whimpers tumbled from your lips, your eyes fluttering closed as you let your mind get itself lost in the softness of her love. You hadnt even noticed she'd pulled off your shorts and underwear until you felt two of her fingers separating your folds, coating herself in your arousal.
"Wan-" you began, growing tired of her teasing after just a few seconds, only to be cut off.
"S'not my name baby. Got to say the magic words if you want mommy to help you stop feeling so icky." She cooed. Her words drove you absolutely insane.
"Mommy, please touch me, I need you to make me feel better." You pleaded with her. A warm smirk crossed her face as she looked up at you.
"Thats a good girl. Doing so well for mommy, arent you?" She praised sweetly as she slowly pushed her fingers into you, watching intently as your mouth dropped open, a relieved moan leaving your seperated lips.
When she was sure you had adjusted properly to the feeling she slowly began to thrust them in and out of you, watching excitedly as your noises began to get more consistent. Your velvety walls hugged her fingers so tightly that she couldnt help but groan at the feeling.
"So tight baby, is mommy the only person to touch you like this?" Wanda asked. She knew full well that you were barely able to talk at all, especially since her speed was starting to increase, her fingers finding that special spot that had your hands gripping the bedsheets so firmly your knuckles went white, your legs making failed attempts to close around her hand. She tutted softly, seperating them with her free one.
"Mommy wants to see princess, so youve got to keep your legs open? Can you do that?" She asked you, a sickly sweet tone coating her voice. You tried to shake your head but she quickly put an end to that.
"Aht, dont be so hard on yourself. I know my pretty girl can do it, doing so well for me already." Wanda soothed, your heart melting.
Your moans were music to her ears, the soft whimpers of her name driving her absolutely crazy. It was taking everything in her not to fuck you so roughly you were sure to be sore for days after, however she was sure she wanted to be soft with you.
"Such a precious sweet girl." She cooed softly, her fingers now thrusting in and out of you at a fast pace, fingers curling at your g-spot with each thrust.
After a couple more moments, your abdomen felt like it was knotted and it felt as though you needed to go to the toilet.
"Mommy I need-" you began, but she quickly shushed you.
"Shh baby, mommy knows your close. Cum for mommy whenever you want, but let me hear those pretty moans of yours." She instructed, and all you could do was simply nod your head in agreement. So sweet and obedient, willing to comply to her every command, just as she liked you.
Your orgasm came crashing down on you not long after, Wanda continuing to thrust to help you ride your high.
"You did so well for mommy. Mommy knows you can do one more." She hummed softly, slowly pulling her fingers from you. It felt weird, feeling so empty after feeling so full, but you were too focused on steadying your breathing to care too much about the feeling. You did however notice how she pushed her fingers between her lips, moaning at the taste of you.
"You taste so sweet dolly." Wanda grinned, cleaning her fingers off before rummaging around in a box beneath her bed. She pulled out an unfamiliar toy, attatching it around her waist. She considered lubing it up however decided you were wet enough for it to be okay.
Wanda resettled herself on the bed, this time on her knees , seperating your legs further, only increasing the ache in them. The tip of the toy rubbed against your folds, gathering your arousal, weak moans filling the air.
Eventually, when she was sure the strap was wet enough, she pushed it into you slowly. You were already slightly stretched out due to the events just moments before, however it still took some time adjusting to.
"Tell mommy when it feels okay and she can get rid of the rest of those icky feelings." Wanda told you softly. It only took a few moments, and when you were sure you were ready, you gave her a nod. She smiled reassuringly at you before she slowly began to move her hips, the strap thrusting in and out of you at a slow and gentle pace.
Moans began to leave your lips once again and Wanda leaned down to capture your lips with hers, her tongue slowly pushing into your mouth, moving over yours as she sped up the speed of her thrusting, aware you could take it.
She kept at a steady speed for a while, happy with the volume of moans you were releasing for her, however when she wanted more, she sped up, the tip of the strap consistently pressing against your g-spot.
Just as she wanted, your moans increased in volume. You even at one point let out a moan of her name, which drove her hunger on and caused her to thrust even quicker, at a rough speed you weren't used to. Tears pooled in your eyes due to the sudden roughness, but she was quickly to wipe them away with the pad of her thumb.
"Its okay baby, mommys got you, gonna make you feel so good. So fucking good." She breathed out, her other hand gripping your hip to keep you in place.
You were unbeknowest to the fact that your second orgasm often comes quicker than the first, so when the feeling from earlier returned you were very confused and were convinced you needed to go.
"Mommy I-" you began just as you had earlier, but her free hand moved to cover your mouth.
"Mommys going to count to 10, then you can let go, but you make sure you let everybody know who you belong to as you do, understood?" She commaned. You nodded feebly, too fuzzy to think for yourself. Wanda removed her hand and let it find its place on your other hip as she somehow sped up.
She counted to 10, and a few moments after she had finishing counting, you reached your second orgasm, moaning her name repetitively as you did, whimpers following your loud moans.
She allowed you to ride out your high before she slowly pulled out, forcing the strap into your mouth before you could even think about speaking or controlling your breathing.
"Clean the strap for mommy." She told you,one of her hands moving to cup your cheek, her thumb softly caressing the skin as she watched. When she was happy with your work, she pulled the strap out of your mouth and took it off altogether, discarding it on the floor.
The sight of you had been enough to have her own arousal practically smeared against her thighs, so she removed her lower half of clothes before straddling your thigh.You went to sit up but she pushed you down, shaking her head.
"Mommys okay, just needs to help her icky feelings. Made mommy feel so hot and needy baby." She teased, staring down at you as she slowly began to drag her hips along your thigh whilst you feebly watched, cheeks hot, hair dishevelled, lips wet and swollen.
She looked so gorgeous like this, eyebrows furrowed, head tilted back slightly as she rode your thigh. In fact, you were sure her arousal had smeared across your thigh. You had never known you made her so desperate, but the thought gave you extreme butterflies.
"Thats it, just lay back, be cute and watch mommy okay?" She attempted to command you, but her moans cut her words short and she barely finished her sentence, but she did. You complied with what she wanted, however a burst of courage drove you to moving your hands to her hips, guiding her along your thigh.
Wanda went to thank you however her thanks were just replaced with a moan of your name, but either way you werent complaining. You guided her faster when it seemed sbe wasnt getting enough or when she told you to, though you were mostly helpong her by your own accord.
Normally she wouldnt have let you be in charge of something so big, but you looked so cute helping her that she just couldnt say no.
"Tense your thigh for me bunny an-oh, fuck, thats it baby!" She moaned loudly as you tensed your thigh for her, upping the pleasure.
Anytime she knew she was close, she forced you to guide her slower and demanded you stop tensing your thigh. Wanda adored edging herself, and getting you to do things for her and you happily obliging was so cute that she took advantage of it.
After several minutes she was finally sick of the teasing and you, taking the hint, guided hee as fast as you could, tensing your thigh frequently. Within no time she herself reached her orgasm, moaning and praising you as she rode out her high.
When she was done, Wanda moved to lay beside you, pulling you into her arms as she placed soft kisses on your temple. You returned the love by setting soft kisses over her neck and cheeks, your arms moving to wrap around her.
"You did so well baby. Im so proud of you, my sweet girl." She praised softly.
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Since your first time together, things had been getting very serious between the two of you, however you didnt rush to put labels on it, though it was quite clear where your connection was heading. Wanda truly was showing you how much she loved and adored you now, but there was still no intel about her past.
You tried not to force it too much, but you yourself didnt have much patience and so you only lasted a couple of months before it started to irritate you again.
You two were sat together on the couch, eating dinner as you watched the tv. You were mostly quiet until she asked a question relating to your past and your anger bubbled over...again.
"Wanda, why dont i know anything about you?" You asked, putting your fork down with a bang. Her head turned to look at your, eyes narrow.
"You do know things about me. Where is this coming from?" She asked with a hostility you hadnt quite seen from her yet. You scoffed at her words.
"Where is this coming from? What do you mean? Its coming from the fact that you dint ever tell me anything about your past! I dont even know you!" You snapped, expecting an argeument. Wanda wasnt going to argue with you however, not for long.
"If you dont know me, then get out." She snapped in return, catching you off guard.
"Wha-" you began to say.
"I said get out! You wanna act like if you dont know every little detail about me meand not knowing me, then fine. You dont know me, and i dont have dinner with, or give all the love in the world to, or fuck with nobodies. Get out!" She snapped angrily, and you could have sworn you saw her eyes glow red again, but it was too quick, just as it had been before.
Tears pricked your eyes, but she had made it more than clear that she wanted your gone so you stood up, grabbed your bag and turned to the door, unphased by the fact it was already open. You left her house with another word, the door slamming behind you.
You didnt know her.
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stevengrantstannie · a month ago
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ʚDesperate confessionsɞ(Steven Grant x reader)
Warnings: Smut obvi, a little cursing, palming, edging kinda, bottom Steven ( if that's a warning), hickeys, male receiving, begging, riding/dry humping
Summary: both you and Steven have huge obvious crushes on each other but both of your minds always lead to dirty thoughts,You wind up giving him the best night of his life
EDIT: I DIDN'T REALIZE HOW LONG THIS IS???? THE SMUT IS AT THE LAST 2 SECTIONS IF YOU WANT TO SKIP TO IT
edit 2: heyyy this is very old and It's currently my bday for about 2 more hours so I'm dropping this while I finish the Kurt requests
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You were on his mind all day. Not a single minute went by without thinking of you. He was obsessed, secretly of course. He couldn't dare share his true feelings towards you, he couldn't risk it. Losing you and your 'friendship'. 'Sorry Steven, I don't see you that way' was the reoccurring thought going through his mind at night.All he looked forward to was for you to show up.
"Hey Steven,how's it going?" Your voice rang in his ears as he looked over to you walking towards his desk. "How's the gift shop treating you?" He smiled."It's seen better day's." You chuckled and turned your head to him fully. He heard the room go quite as he focused on your facial features. Your eyes, your nose, your skin beaming from the huge light above you. He could stare for hours. His thoughts were interrupted by you waving in front of his face. "Hey, you heard me? I asked if you'd like to hang at my place tonight, we could watch a movie" You were better at hiding your feelings from him,obviously. Steven almost melted when he finally processed your question. "O-oh, yeah I'd love to." "Great! I'll see you then" His heart eyes lingered on your back as you walked away, trying to stop himself from looking below your back. The way your jeans hugged your lower half drove him crazy. He'd wished to be in their place many of times, to be so close to you at all times. He quickly snapped out of it when you left. Now to wait for tonight.
Finally off of work, Steven rushes to his place to freshen up. His work clothes were a bit messy, he couldn't let you see him like this. Quickly, he put on a casual outfit that still made him look decently attractive. He made his way to your house in a hurry, excited to see you but hoping he wasn't late. He knocked on the door slightly and focused on the doorknob. You opened the door, looking at Stevens messy hair. He didn't care about his hair, he was able to see you again, this time in a short top and some flowy shorts. "Steven, come on in I've got evey thing ready" You welcomed him in watching his eyes scan you, then the room. Your mind's been running wild as well. You desperately wanted to run your fingers through his curls, lightly tugging them. You looked over at Steven who was standing awkwardly next to the couch, clearly scared to mess something up. You mustered up the courage to grab his hand and pull him next to you on the couch. You've never actually touched his hand so you never noticed how soft they were. His face was slowly turning red, along with his hands. "Steven... I know I invited you here to watch a movie but there's something else" He almost couldn't sit up on his own hearing that sentence. Was it something he did? He said? Something he didn't do or say? "I.. For the longest time I've always had a crush on you. We've known each other for a while now and I thought today now that we're alone would be a good time to say..." Stevens eyes darted to your lips as you uttered a phrase. "I love you" .
Luckily you saw right through him and quickly kissed him, savoring the bit of leftover peach chapstick he had from earlier. He pulled away slowly, catching his breath. "...I've wanted to do that for so long, you have no clue." He quickly kissed you again, but with more hunger. He nibbled on your bottom lip a bit, not enough to hurt you. His hands traveled to your back, pulling you closer to him and straddling him. You finally got your wish and tugged his messy curls, making him look up at you. He moaned quietly, struggling to keep eye contact with you. He's always wanted to be dominated by you in hopes of awakening some new interests in him. You kissed down his neck, sucking on certain spots to make dark marks. Steven shut his eyes lightly and let out a small whimper in pleasure. Must have found the spot. You leaned your body into him further, slowly grinding on his lap. "I-i've never felt this way before." He stuttered a bit, still feeling your lips on his skin. "I could help you out, I've got some experience" You got off his lap as his eyes followed you. You undid his belt, jeans button and zipper, but kept his pants up. You stared at Steven as you slowly rubbed his buldge, his eyebrows raising in surprise. You kissed him again, making him focus on your lips instead of your hands. You starting to grip at his pants slowly, making him bite your lip. "I need a favor from you, Steven" He looked up at you with his pathetic doe eyes, willing to do anything you asked. "Try not to make any noise, I think I heard the neighbors come in." He nodded,still staring at you. You were lying, no one was home. You just wanted to see how long he'd last trying to keep quiet. You continued rubbing and gripping his buldge watching his eyes try and track your hands. His chest rose up and down quickly, clearly needy. You realized your hand wasn't doing enough so you got back on top of him and began grinding on his lap. "O-oh gosh" you smirked, knowing you'd get this reaction from the poor man. You shifted your weight towards his hips, making him whimper.Steven has thought about you this way and he was ashamed, but now that he has you to please him, even just for today, he's the happiest man in the world. You felt him twitch under you, as he gripped the couch cushions. "A little longer, ok baby?" You praised him up and down the wall, driving him crazy. "You're doing so good for me, just be patient,ok?"Stevens muffled whimpers and whines echoed through the room. You loved seeing him like this, Steven hated to admit it but he did as well. "Love, I-i'm gonna-oh gosh-please.." He gripped your waist tightly, burying his face in your neck. "Are you gonna cum in your pants, love? It's ok just hold on a little longer, ok?" You ran your fingers through is messy curls, lightly tugging at them. You earned a low moan from Steven, his lower half driving him insane. "Please let me cum, please I love you so much...." Hearing him beg so desperately almost made you cum yourself,but you were too focused on letting him finish."I'll let you cum, but I want to hear you loud and clear" His eyes widened, remembering what his one rule was. "But what about the neighbors, I don't want them to know what we're doing..mainly me" you kissed his neck lightly. "I'll leave you just like this if I don't hear you, I know you can do it".You snaked your hand in his shirt, feeling the soft abs that were hidden under the shirt. Steven threw his his head back, beginning to feel the peak of his high. "Can I please cum I'll be as loud as you want, please darling oh my gosh." You nodded, pulling his head up to hear him better. He thanked you, letting out loud, high pitched moans. If he were any louder, you could probably hear him down the halls. You felt his cum leak through his jeans and onto your shorts. You would've licked it up but poor baby's had enough for one night.
Steven draped his hands over your shoulder,finally able to pull himself together. "Oh bollocks, um, sorry it's so much I didn't know-" You looked down at the cum still dripping from the zipper of his pants. You lightly smiled and looked at a bright red,clearly embarrassed Steven. "It's alright, love. Nothing a bit of cleaning can't fix." You kissed him lovingly, cherishing every part of him. "So,would you be willing to go on a proper date some time? One where we aren't on my living room couch." You smiled, waiting for Steven to answer your question.He was still kind of out of breath but tried his best to answer.
"I would love to.. "
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beyondspaceandstars · 6 months ago
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Oh, Baby
Relationship: Matt Murdock x Reader Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, breeding kink, dirty talk, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (obvi), fingering - 18+, minors DNI Summary: Matt’s been holding in his desires for too long and now that you two are married, he can finally let it all out. A/N: idk where this came from. Idk how this popped out of my brain but it did. Enjoy reading as I enjoyed writing.
Masterlist
Matt Murdock thought he was going crazy. 
He couldn’t stop talking about babies — having babies with you, specifically. 
It had started even before you two were even engaged. You had invited him to your family’s Thanksgiving and your sister had been there with her newborn. Matt, at first, had thought much about it. If anything, he was concerned that the baby was going to be annoying and loud during dinner. But then when you two arrived and he heard your high-pitched voice as you greeted the baby… 
He nearly cursed right then and there. Because now all he could think about was you using that voice to talk to your baby. He could hear your heart skip every time someone brought the newborn in the room and the way you gushed over being able to feed them. It was just about too much for Matt. He considered pulling you into the nearest bathroom and taking you right then and there before dessert was served. 
But Matt also knew he couldn’t do that. You had been very strict about your intimate life. You’d made it clear you didn’t want kids before marriage, that these things need to be thought out and take some time. Matt had agreed. Being raised Catholic, he held similar beliefs about marriage and building a family. But also… His lower region sure liked to ignore those beliefs when he sensed you near a child. 
A couple of years into your relationship, Matt had finally proposed and you two were married just less than a year later. Matt was incredibly happy with you, and you were just as happy with him. He truly felt you two were it for each other forever and he was ecstatic to have found a life partner. 
But he also couldn’t deny that he was excited about the other perks that came with finding your other half. 
***
Matt finally let it all out one night. Your two had just celebrated six months of marriage and were doing what any other couple would: going at it like absolute teenagers on your living room couch. 
Matt was assaulting your neck with the sweetest yet fiercest kisses. 
"Matt…" You sighed, gripping onto his hair as his hand began wandering up and down your side. 
"Hmm? What do you want, sweetheart?" He responded. You could pretty much hear the shit-eating grin on his lips.
You groaned and bucked your hips, slightly frustrated. "You know what I want."
"You right, I bet I do know what you want," Matt said as he gave a particularly rough kiss on your neck, no doubt in an attempt to leave marks he wouldn’t see but would have the pleasure of knowing were there. "But do you know what I want?"
You stilled slightly, your brows furrowing in confusion. Sex, right? Is that not what he wanted? Was that not why you were pinned to this couch, the skirt of your dress pushed up against your waist, your panties practically soaked? 
"I…" You didn’t really have an answer. Maybe your husband was finally going to let out his kinky side. You could play along with that. "What do you want, Matt?" 
"I want to put a baby inside you."
The admission may have stunned you but Matt carried on, working you up and running his hands. You gasped as his finger drifted over your clothed core. 
"Wh-What?" You choked out.
"I think it’s time, honey, don’t you?" Matt mumbled against your skin. "Think about it. You, pregnant…with my child. Having a little one running around here. That sounds really nice to me."
How dangerously low tone was making it hard for you to think but… Something in your heart twitched. Yeah, that did sound incredible. You had to admit, children with Matt had always been on your mind. You just wanted to put it off until you two were more stable and the relationship was solid. Well, you guessed nothing screamed solid like being married. 
You gave a weak nod before remembering where you were, who you were with. "Yeah," you responded. "That… That sounds very nice."
Matt let out a satisfied groan which went straight to your core. It must’ve been pool down there by now.
Something in Matt snapped and next thing you knew, his lips were on yours while his hand was working your panties down your leg. He wasn’t even bothered getting you undressed which really did something for you. 
He cupped your soaking core. Your back arched instinctively, trying to get closer to him.
"Matt, please," you cried. He chuckled. 
"Patience, sweetheart," Matt muttered. 
"No," you said with a pout. "Please, Matt, please…"
"So eager for me to put a baby in you, huh?" His words were borderline mocking and you absolutely loved it. Slowly, his fingers began working on your clit, every now and then teasingly dipping into your wet folds. You gripped his hair tighter, pushing your face into his neck as you whimpered at his touch. 
"Cum for me once, baby, okay?" Matt whispered as his fingers sped up, now taking the time to curl them in you just right. "Cum for me first then I’ll fill you up real good, got it?" 
You were so caught up in how deep his fingers were and the precise motions on your clit, all you could do was whimper in response. But Matt didn’t like that. His palm gave a forceful thrust on your clit, making you jump in both pain and pleasure. 
"I need an answer, honey," he said. "You gonna cum for me? Cum on my fingers?"
"Yes, yes…" You let out a mindless chant of yeses as your high began approaching. Matt, very satisfied, started hitting the right spots within you, his motions never wavering as the tightness in your gut began letting go until you were coming apart underneath him. You let out loud, crying moans, surprised by how powerful your orgasm was. Who would’ve thought chit-chat about having a baby would make such perfect foreplay?
But now it was time for the main event. To put your money where your mouth was. 
Once you came down from your climax, Matt wasted absolutely no time undoing his pants, pushing them and his underwear down just far enough to pull out his cock. He was hard, unbelievably hard. 
You licked your lips in anticipation as he worked to line himself up to your now incredibly soaking core. You didn’t even realize it was possible to get this wet. You subtly shifted your leg over, giving him complete and total access to where you needed him the most.
"You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this," Matt said in bold confession. But before you could even contemplate the weight of that statement, he thrust into you in one full, long, glorious stroke. You yelped, surprised and pleased at his forcefulness. 
You and Matt had never done this without any sort of protection in between so to feel him… To feel this… Oh, how the butterflies of pleasure ran through your stomach. He felt so good, so deep. And you had no doubt in your mind Matt felt everything — everything.
He let out a heavy groan. His head was tucked with your neck, his body shaking slightly. "So soft, so warm," Matt whispered in your ear and you don’t think he even realized what he was saying. But he sure knew what moves to make. 
With little warning, he began short but powerful thrusts inside you, sending your body jolting backward on the couch. His hands found your hips, pinning you beneath him, right where he needed you as he continued his thrusts. 
"Oh, Matt," you sighed as he hits every right part of you. Despite how many times you two have engaged in such intercourse, you didn’t realize it could feel like this. You grow wetter with every movement, your bodies meeting with every movement of force. 
In no time, you felt Matt’s thrusts begin to waver a bit. They became longer but slower as if he’s trying to hold himself back. You couldn’t blame him, really. Sex with him rarely goes under a few minutes, but you needed it like this. You needed to feel him, all of him, within you. And there was no denying how much he had been craving it as well.
That familiar warmth in your stomach was growing quickly. You hadn’t realized you were also nearly over the edge, so caught up in how perfect your husband was.
"Come on, Matt," you whispered. "Cum for me, I need it, Matty. Need to feel you in me, need you to fill me up."
Matt’s grip on your hips got tighter at your words. His thrusts began picking up again. 
"Yeah, sweetheart?" He muttered, his voice cracking slightly. "Need me to fill you? Get you pregnant with my child? That’s what you need sweetheart? Come on, I wanna hear it again." He gave a particularly harsh thrust as his words faded. You cried out, your fingers gripping onto his shirt for support.
"Yes!" You yelled, both frustrated and needy. "Please, Matt. Give it… Give it to me…" 
In a desperate attempt to get you there with him, one of his hands left your hip and found your sensitive clit. He worked circles on your while keeping in turn with his movements. It was so much, it was too much. 
"Oh, god, right there—," Matt groaned before letting go, a new type of warmth spreading through you. The feeling of him, in more ways than one, sent you over the edge in seconds, forcing you to join your husband in climax.
He gave some final shallow thrusts, his cum and yours mixing together, which for some reason you weren’t going to dissect turned you more on. You were truly discovering so much about yourself tonight. 
Spent, Matt collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily with a foolish, excited smile on his face. He rested his forehead against yours and held you close, his arms now making their way around your waist. That new wetness was still between your thighs, reminding you and making you a bit pleased about your earlier actions. You didn’t even care that it was likely on course to ruin your dress and the couch.
"How was that?" Matt asked, still sporting that giddy grin. You let out a breathless laugh. 
"Perfect," you replied. There was no other word to describe it.
"Think it worked?" Matt said as he tried to casually move one hand to rub your stomach. Your thighs twitched. He wasn’t even really doing anything yet fire began spreading through your body again.
"I don’t know," you admitted, slyly. "Should we…try again? One more time? Just to be sure?"
You felt Matt’s cock harden against your inner thigh. "Absolutely," he agreed, his tone full of faux innocence. "We want to make sure we get this right, yes? Only one way to assure that…"
And then his lips found yours once again.
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feline-clouds · a month ago
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Drunken words, Sober Thoughts || Peter P.
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𖤓Smut | Peter P. x Male Reader
𖤓Drunk sex.
𖤓You have hair (sorry hairless people :[ )
𖤓Fyi, requests are open on my page too :P
You didn’t think that you’d end up with your best friend -Peter Parker- in his bed, back at his apartment, half nude and stripping.
You never thought you’d hear your best friend of 10 years admit to you that he has wanted to spread you out on a bed and roughly fuck you into the sheets while you scream and cry out his name in ecstasy. While you violently came as he thrusted into your tightening hole.
You never thought a lot of things, but especially not what happened this night.
And it all started at the bar.
You groan over the phone. “Peter, why’d you have to plan this last minute? I had plans”. A childish chuckle came over the phone.
“What did you have better to do than go out with me?”, Peter asks. You rolled your eyes.
“Watch movies”, you mutter, a little flustered. Peter laughs again.
“Sorry for ruining that, but I’m already here so hurry up please”, he begged over the phone. You gave into his sweet voice -and that fact that you didn’t have anything better to do- and sighed over the phone.
“I’m on my way-“, you mumble, swiftly hanging up the phone with your thumb. You let out a little defeated moan, leaning off your couch and standing to your feet. You tiredly shuffle to your white tiled bathroom, flicking on the white light, making the small stale room light up. You lazily look into the mirror, studying your nice constructed face and jaw. You blink a few times, then look down at your grime covered sink, inspecting the yellowing spots from tap water.
“I should wash that”, you mutter to yourself, knowing you’ll forget to later. You turn on the faucet, watching the water run for a moment, then sticking you hands under the water, letting the water gather in your hands. You then open your hands, making the water spill through your fingers. You then bring your hands to your face, looking in the mirror as you wipe your face with the water droplets still on your fingers.
Once you are satisfied -a few wipes and water splashes later- you leave your bathroom, flicking off the light as you leave. You walk to your key rack, grabbing your car keys that also have some other random keys -your house key among them- then you slipped on sneakers. After, you stood up and opened your apartment door, shutting and locking it behind you.
After you swung into your car and shut the door, you shoved your key into the ignition, starting the car. You raced through the streets of Queens, sure to not run anyone or anything over, but a little faster than anyone else to just get to the bar and get this whole thing over so you can go home and go to bed.
As you finally pull into the parking lot of the bar that was shared with a few other smaller stores. You could see Peter at his car, leaning on the driver side door, probably waiting for your ass to park and get out the car.
Well, you managed to find a parking spot. You pulled into the empty spot what had faded white stripes on either side to measure out how big it was, stains and trash littered some of the spot and even some of the trash rolled under neighboring cars from the nightly breeze. You turned off the car and got out, seeing Peter in the corner of your eyes lean off his car and walk toward you.
You take a step onto the side walk, meeting Peter there. He looks at you, his brown hair flicking in the breeze. He smiles.
“You finally decided to come?”, Peter asks. You lightly laugh.
“Yea, I did”, you say, turning away from Peter and toward the door. Peter followed your eyes, glancing back at you before grabbing your arm and dragging you to the bar. You begrudgingly kept pace with him.
Peter pulled you into the lively bar, where people spoke, laughed -and most importantly- touched. It was a Friday night after a long week for everyone and people were bored, so they came to the bar to see some stuff.
You started to wonder if Peter liked to see stuff at the bar.
You quickly brushed the thought off your shoulders as Peter led you over to the bar, taking a seat in one of the stools. You lazily flopped yourself next to him, leaning onto the wood of the bar with your elbows. Peter repeats your action, smiling as the bartender comes over.
“Hey Pete, the usual?”, the woman asks. He nods, a little chuckle escaping his lips as you turn your head, eyes wide.
“How often do you come here Peter?”, you ask. Peter looks a little embarrassed.
“More often than not”, he muttered as the watched the bartender pull out some bottles and pour liquids into a cup. You rolled your eyes, leaning your chin in the palm of your hand.
Once the woman was done doing his, she turned to you.
“And what would you like, cutie?”, he cooed. You blushed a little.
“I’ll go with something simple, surprise me maybe? I don’t drink very often, only when this dingus drags me along”, you say, jabbing a thumb toward Peter. The bartender laughed.
“Alright, I’ll give you something nice, I’ll be right back”, she said, her voice having a Texan twang to it. You were still a little flustered from her compliment, but you were quickly pulled out of it by Peter.
“So, what movie were you going to watch without me?”, he asked, leaning his head on his hand, lazily drinking from his cup.
“Oh, just Shrek, you know, a classic”, you answer. You were going to binge watch all of the Shrek movies and stay up all night eating popcorn -alone-until you were dragged out by Peter.
He nodded, taking another drink off his cup. Around that time, the bartender came back with a rather colorful drink for you. You quickly thanked the bartender, sliding the glass closer to you and inspecting it.
“I bet she drugged it”, Peter whispers in your ear. You shudders, but your eyebrows pull together upset.
“Peter, why the hell would she do that? She could’ve drugged yours too idiot”, you defended. He shrugged, leaning back from you and taking another drink. You rolled your eyes, inspecting the glass a little further before taking the straw into your mouth and taking a sip.
The drink made your mouth explode. There were so many flavor combinations you could both taste and not taste every single flavor. You looked over at Peter, wide eyed. His eyebrow raised as he was trying to figure you out.
“What?”, he asked.
“This is really good”, you say in awe. He rolls his eyes, drinking away at the glass. You snicker and drink yours too.
Some time -and several drinks- later, Peter’s drunk -full drunk- and your just a bit tipsy after 2 glasses of whatever that bartender gave you. One of you had to be at least a little more sober than the other to get home. Whether that meant a taxi or walking or whatever transportation you two would take.
You looked over at Peter, who was drunkenly laughing and talking to himself. You put a hand on his back, making him jolt and look at you.
“Huh? What?”, he said through slurred words. You sighed.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”, you ask, your letters very vaguely slurred, but you still could talk and walk normally. Thinking on the other hand-
“I’ll say when I’ve had enough”, Peter snapped. You glanced at the bartender, who was already looking at you and Peter. You frowned with your teeth, motioning your hand over your neck. She quickly understood to cut Peter off from anymore drinks.
“Hey Tender! Can I get another one?”, he asked, oblivious as to the small conversation that you had with her.
“Honey, I think that’s enough, I agree with cutie over here”, she said. You blushed at her comment, but it was already hidden by your already pink cheeks from being tipsy.
“No! I’ll say when I’m done!”, he exclaimed, “and don’t call him cutie! He’s mine!”, Peter shouted, throwing his limp body weight into your arms, flailing around.
“Peter, we’re going home”, you sternly said, putting your foot down and shoving him back in his stool. Peter whined and argued some more, but you asked for someone to help carry Peter outside so he can get a taxi. Two pretty muscular men said that they’d love to help. You kindly thanked and apologized to them for Peter.
Once you both were outside, you dragged Peter to the road and waved down a Taxi. A yellow car came to a screeching stop in front of you. You opens the door and forced Peter in before getting in yourself.
“Where to?”, the driver asked. It was a seemingly nice girl. You smiled at her and told her Peter’s apartment complex address and paid her there. She smiled at you, flicking her red hair over her shoulder and driving off.
Some time later, the car came to a stop. Peter had leaned his head against the window, and you couldn’t tell if he was asleep. You shook his shoulder, making him sit up and look at you.
“Peter, we’re at your house, come on”, you say, getting out of the car. Peter groans, following you. You lean down and thank the driver before closing the door. You stood and watched the car drive off before hearing a gurgled moan from Peter, bringing you back to reality.
You throw his arm over you shoulder, helping him walk to the building he lived in. Both of you almost tripped up the stairs several times, but you finally managed to make it to his door.
“Peter, I need your key”, you mumble, going ahead and digging through his pockets until you found his key ring. You lazily tried a few before the door ultimately unlocked. You opened the door and led Peter to the couch, allowing him to sit and try to -either- regain himself or fall asleep.
You walk back over to the door to shut it, only to see Peter leaning back on the couch, his head tilted back and he seemed to be snoring, wide awake. You groan, wiping your face.
“Peter? You hungry? I’m making food”, you say, shuffling to his kitchen and opening the fridge. You get some gargled words from Peter. You roll your eyes, standing up and looking over to where he sat, only to not find him there, but disappearing into the bathroom, his feet sluggishly dragging on the floor.
You let out a long exhale, going ahead and looking through his cupboards and pantry to find something. Though, there was a lot to choose from, you couldn’t find anything you’d trust yourself to make without screwing something, hurting yourself, or burning down the house. You purse your lips, narrowing your eyes and shut Peter’s pantry, spinning on your toes and walking over to the couch, almost sitting down before Peter called out for you.
“Hey!…Can you help me pee?”, he asked. You blinked a few times, shaking your head. Did you just hear Peter ask you to help him piss?
“Peter you aren’t serious are you? You cannot be that drunk”, you say, standing back up, listening for Pete.
“I am that drunk, I can’t fucking stand…I can’t do it…can you just help me please”, he begged. You softly chuckle, trudging to his bathroom -which the door was wide open- and walking over to Peter. You step over next to him, hands on your hips.
“What do you want me to do?”, you asked. Peter had managed to undo his pants, but he seemed to have had trouble when pulling his dick out. He narrowed his eyes.
“Just, stand behind me? Hold me so I can pee”, he said. You sigh, stepping behind him. You place your hands on his hips, holding him as steady as you could. You heard him fumble with his underwear until he became successful. You could hear him urinate in front of you. You place your chin on his shoulder, glancing down. You blush.
You hadn’t ever really seen Peter’s dick before. Well, he’s been half nude around you before , so you’ve seen the outline of it, but never actually seen it. So when you looked down, you were a little shocked to see how big it actually was. His hands wrapped around it as he tried to control himself made it look weird-
“Oh my for Peter! Are you getting hard?”, you exclaim, almost letting go of him and leaving. He seemed to be unable to help himself as he smiled and chuckled. You scoff, closing your eyes and leaning your forehead on his back instead, taking his scent of cologne and booze into your nose. It was almost soothing.
Peter was soon done, struggling to put his -still- hard dick back in his pants. He just gave up with buttoning and zipping it after a few failed attempts and let his pants be undone. You let go of him, ready to leave the bathroom, but he grabbed your shirt.
“Stay there”, he mumbled, walking over to the sink.
“Peter I wanna go-“
“Just stay put”, he said again, turning on the sink and washing his hands. You huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you watch Peter lazily wash his hands, drying them on his pants once he was done. Then his turned to you, his brown eyes scanning you up and down before moving toward you. He just started at your for a couple of seconds before grappling his hands behind your head and pulling you in for a kiss.
It was painful since he slammed your faces together, his hands roughly gripping your hair. He seemed to be really trying, lapping at your lips, eyes closed. He was really getting into it. You on the other hand? You were more or less confused. It was more like a dog had pinned you down and started licking your face.
You try and shove Peter off. “Peter!- Stop”, you say. He pulled away, pouting his lip.
“Aw please just kiss me”, he whined. You opened and close your mouth.
“Peter-what”, you asked. Peter whimpered like a dog, instead nipping at your neck, rolling your skin between his teeth quite painfully. You let out a little moan, blush on your face. Your hands gripped Peter’s shirt. “Peter…stop”, you say more quietly, slowly giving in to his weird advances.
His hands had slipped down your your hips, pulling you closer to him as he rolled his groin onto yours, grinding himself.
“Damnit Peter”, you repeated his name as he shoved you into the bathroom wall. You put your hands on it to keep from your whole body weight slamming into it and hurting yourself. Peter had moved up to your jawline, nipping and sucking there, small bruises forming where he has bitten, some even bleeding from how hard he bit.
“Come to the bedroom with me”, he growled seductively. You could only let out a whimper in response, words weren’t available for you to use at the moment. Peter smiled, dragging you by the hips back to his room. You both ran into the door frame of both the bathroom and his bedroom. He finally managed to shove you into his room, pushing you into his mess of a bed. The blanket was just thrown onto his mattress, spread out enough to cover the bed but it wasn’t exactly made. He tripped over the end of the bed, landing on his knees above you.
He went back to lapping at your face and neck, your hit breaths echoing in his ears. He could faintly hear you calling his name, trying to ask what his intentions were. His knees on both sides of your hips as his head hung between his shoulders. Peter lifted his head up and glanced at your lips, finally deciding to try them again, going with a less aggressive approach and just plainly kissing them, not tongue or aggressiveness involved.
You finally decide to just kiss back, your hands traveling to his shirt, squeezing and tugging it. He finally pulled away, his half lidded brown eyes scanning your face before sighing and sitting up. You follow, sitting up on your elbows.
“Peter…again…what the fuck?”, you ask, out of breath. Peter was too out of breath, breathing hard, but he managed to push out a chuckle with it.
“You don’t understand do you? Look…I had a whole plan to do this tonight, so here it goes. I really like you”, Peter says. Your lips part a little in awe, but a look in your eyes is asking him to explain further, so he does. “I really really like you. I have for quite a while, but I didn’t know if you ever swung that way so I didn’t want to tell you. But I eventually told myself that I was just going to get so drunk one day that I will tell you. And I did. But for the longest time I’ve wanted to kiss you. I’ve wanted to lay you on my bed and fuck you into my sheets while you moan my name. I want you to cum to me”, Peter said quite confidently.
You just gawk at him for a moment. It seemed like suddenly he could talk normally, his confidence came back.
“Peter-“, you breathlessly say.
“That my name”, Peter mumbled, staring down at you.
“Peter”, you repeat. Before he could respond to you, you hook and arm around his neck, pulling his torso back down onto yours, kissing his chapped lips. Peter pushed back against your kiss, grinding his hips on yours.
You moan, arching your back a little. Peter smirks, tilting his head to the side to deepen the intense kiss. You turn your head away to cat your breath, your chest heaving. You glance at Peter, sweats beads slipping down his forehead. You smirk, placing a hand on the side of his face.
“Peter…fuck me”, you say. Peter smirked, sitting back up on his knees and digging his hand in his back pocket until he pulled out his wallet. He opens it and pulled out a condom. You had to retain a laugh with a cheesy smile.
Peter smiled back and opened the condom packaging, pulling out the slippery translucent sleeve. With his pants already undone, Peter just had to fumble with his boxers with a single hand, allowing his cock to be released. It stood out, a nice curve to it, the head a little moist. You gawked at it again for a moment before realizing you’d need to take your pants off too.
You fumbled with the button and zipper of your jeans, kicking them off as Peter rolled the condom onto his dick. You also kicked off your boxers, making them land on Peter’s weirdly colored carpet with a quiet rustle. Peter was waiting for you, his fingers a little oily. He scoffed and pulled off his shirt, wiping his fingers off with it and tossing it aside.
You start at his lightly toned abs before the head on his cock surprised you by lightly pushing on your ass. You gasp a little, looking back up at Peter’s face, his eyes directed to his cock, trying to position it right. You look at how handsome he was, with his head hung below his shoulders, his arms nicely muscular, but not overly muscular. His wavy brown hair hanging in front of his face, back arched as he focused.
You were too focused, until your were pulled out of it by Peter’s cock pushing into you. You squeak, your hands -which were flat against Peter’s blanket, arms outstretched- gripped his comforter. Once Peter was sure of his position, he looked back you, a smirk appearing on his lips as he saw your state. He leaned forward, planting a kiss on you forehead, moving his hands up to next to your head.
At first, Peter just rolled his hip, trying to loosen you up a little. Quiet whimpers and quivers escaped your lips, until he decided that he didn’t need to wait anymore. He pull his cock out almost all the way, then slammed it back into you. You bit your lip, closing one of your eyes in pleasure, whining. He started up with a medium speed thrust that left you -after a few moments- wanting more, so Peter sped up for your own pleasure, making him grunt and breath hard in your face.
You squeaked and whimpered, your hands moving to Peter’s back -legs around his hips- scratching at his moist skin. He growled, shifting his weight to his left arms and bringing his right hand to his mouth and spitting into it. Then he moved it down to your hardening cock, starting to jerk it off. You moaned, arching your back to the double pleasure. Peter was pleased, leaning his head into your neck, nipping at it again. You moaned and whimpered his name like your life depended on it.
“Oh fuck Peter… Oh fuck!”, you shriek, clenching your thighs around his waist, trembling. Your back arched and your eyebrows furrowed. You jerked your body a few times then came, moaning it out. It all landed on your lower abdomen and in Peter’s hand. He smirked, roughening his thrusts, bringing his dirtied hand to your face.
“Lick it off”, he demanded. You complied, eating your own semen off Peter’s fingers as he continued to violently fuck you into his mattress, pleasuring his own cock.
Whether it was the sight of you sucking Peters fingers, or his cock being pleasure enough -or both- Peter grunted loudly, slamming hips hips against your roughly and releasing into the condom. He slightly fucked his orgasm out, rocking his hips with yours. Then he pulled out, panting.
Peter pulled off the condom and tied it off, pushing off the bed and walking over to a trash bin in his room, tossing it into the plastic lined bin. Then he walked back over to you and pulled your shirt off your slightly sweaty body, using it to clean your lower abdomen -and some of his hand- from your semen, tossing the shirt amongst the other clothes you two had on. He then went and scooted into bed next to you, pulling you up to his pillows.
You faced each other, Peter’s hands pampering your hips and pulling you into his chest. You both stayed quiet for a while.
“Did you know I’m also Spider-man?”
“What?”, you asked, shocked. Peter chuckled.
“That’s a different story I’ll tell you later”
“Oh Peter-“, you sigh.
“That’s my name”
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wanduhhh · a month ago
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Time Out (18+) 🤰🏼
Wanda/Reader (oneshot)
Yay for requests again!
You and Wanda are going through a divorce, but that doesn’t make it any less tempting to rip each others clothes off.
Tw: smut, bit of a mommy kink (can’t help it), Wanda’s post pregnancy boobs 🤤, little bit of angst
This is Not proofread so enjoy all of the mistakes.
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Being in your old home would rarely not fill you with a sense of deep nostalgia. Picture frames on the walls that once were filled with pictures of you and your wife, now replaced with stock images. The way you always insisted the couch looked better in front of the window; disregarded. It now floated in the middle of the floor.
Somewhere you had once been comfortable enough to walk around topless, had become a foreign place, you felt yourself clutch your jacket tighter aw you entered.
Your ex-wife had done her best to make the place homey, plants in every corner and drawings littering the fridge. But there’s only so many things you can do to try and replace a persons presence.
The weeks when you would have to go back in to drop off the boys left you feeling weird for days. Dreams of you and the redhead plaguing your subconscious.
Wanda had been the one person you envisioned your future with. But kids and and jobs were substantial things to battle, and life got in the way. Creating a rift between you and the one thing you always classed as a constant.
Wanda had been your home since the first day you met her in college. You had endured countless frat parties surrounded by drunk teenagers offering to “spice up” your love life. You had never wavered, knowing you could never want anything more than the redhead you spent your mornings with.
Then the twins came, and your life changes in ways you couldn’t have imagined. Screaming babies who captivated your heart so effortlessly, they were a perfect mix of you and Wanda. You loved her more than you thought imaginable when you watched her bring your children into the world, and you could never have seen anything changing that.
But Wanda stayed home to look after the boys and you spent one too many nights asleep on the couch in your office. Late nights when Wanda was up squeezing at her new body, convinced no one could love her like that; you were nowhere to be seen.
The damage had been done and no matter how hard you tried to fix it; it was over.
The first few weeks sleeping in your new apartment, you let the loneliness consume you. Your soon to be ex-wife the only thing you could think of to soothe your busy brain. You knew you’d never love anyone the way you loved Wanda, even at her worst she was everything you could hope for.
Visiting Wanda quickly became too painful and you opted to take babbling babies in your arms and make the short distance to your apartment most weeks. But it was inevitable that you would spend a lot of time in your Wanda’s home. And that’s how the sex started.
Anytime you appeared at Wanda’s door and she just so happened to be in a dress- you’d fuck. Anytime she asked for help building a dresser and you got sweaty and frustrated; sex.
You had fallen into a routine that you weren’t looking to change anytime soon. Taking anything you could get when it came to touching Wanda. You knew the first time it happened that it wasn’t for the best; but if it staved off the divorce papers then who were you to complain.
Within the first few months you started seeking out her comfort, going over late at night under the guise of dropping off the boys’ toys you had “forgot to bring earlier”. It let you to a frustrated Wanda one night. Grumbling about sleepless nights and feeling like she was doing everything on her own.
You disappointed in her icy attitude at first, wanting nothing more than to wrap her in your arms and smother her with kisses. As luck would have it; she needed you.
“Ugh fuck, I just want my body back to myself” she groaned, head pressed against the kitchen island. When you looked over to her you saw a frustrated redhead with wet patches on her shirt. Lately breastfeeding the boys had been taking a toll on her, feeling like a personified bottle.
“Sorry Wands, is there anything I can do?” You knew as soon as the words left your mouth that they would piss her off. But then she was always hot when she was angry. “ ‘Anything you can do’ yes, you can fucking suck all the milk out of me so I can stop being a glorified machine. I am sick of it and I am in pain”.
All your mind was able to focus on was the sucking part, mind reeling back to Wanda’s third trimester when you spent countless nights soothing her aching breasts in your warm mouth. Apparently your flushed complexion didn’t go amiss.
“Ugh get your mind out of the gutter y/n, I know exactly what you’re imagining right now”. Fucking mind reader. “Well let me help then” you knew your cockiness was pushing it, but if it ended with Wanda in your mouth then it was worth it.
“Fine, but this is the Last time and I mean it” you couldn’t count the amount of times you had heard that exact sentence. The conviction in her words; missing.
Before you could blink, you had a topless redhead straddling you. Grinding down onto you incessantly as she dragged you closer to her chest by the hair. Your mouth enveloping her aching nipple immediately. “Fuck, just fuck me. Don’t make me beg”. You tried to mumble out a reply around her breast but if her sharp nails digging into your scalp was any indication- she couldn’t care less.
The moment you began to suck, Wanda let out a groan of relief. The pressure in her breasts easing just slightly as you managed to release some of the milk. “Ugh fuck that feels good. More please”. You released her with a pop and looked up at her, formulating a reply about her begging anyway, but her eyes met yours and then they flickered to the milk gathered at the edges of your mouth and before you knew it her mouth was pressed against yours.
This was new. Despite the countless times you had fucked Wanda since the breakup, she had never kissed you. Feeling too heartbroken for the simple act. You knew better than to comment on it when her mouth left yours and moved to your neck, so you answered her in breathy moans instead.
You were stuck in your head a bit after that and apparently your snails pace was not working for the frustrated redhead on top of you. She grabbed your hand and slid it under her dress, immediately pushing her panties to one side and your fingers inside her. You let out a sigh at the feeling of her warmth and she matched yours with a sigh of her own.
That was the one moment she seemed to allow herself to take everything in, before she began riding your fingers frantically. For all the things that drew you in about your wife, the way she knew exactly what she wanted had always been one of your favourites. “Move your fingers here, fuck- yeah here” she wanted to use you for her own pleasure and you were more than happy to oblige. “Bite me, softer”.
She was dripping down her own thighs and onto yours at this point. So unbelievably wet, letting out little pants into your hair every few seconds. “You’re soaked baby, have you not been able to come without me hmm?” She answered you with a shake of her head and you chuckled lightly at how genuinely sad about it she was. Upping the pace of your thrusts in apology.
Her moans got higher in pitch and began to blend into one long gasp, you knew she was about to come. You used your free hand to pull her down even further onto your fingers and quickly told her to come when she was ready, before pulling her breast back into your mouth. Despite the sigh she let out at the feeling of your warm mouth, it seemed she needed you closer than that tonight. Pulling you up by the hair to moan into your mouth.
She came around your fingers, with your tongue in her mouth and you knew something was different about this night. She chuckled sleepily as you flipped her onto her back, hovering above her spread thighs on the couch. As she looked down at you with a lazy grin on her face, you were reminded of the sleepy mornings you would wake her up with your mouth on her just to watch her eyes flutter open.
“Wands?” She mumbled out a ‘hmm’ too busy stroking her fingers through your hair. “I’m ripping up the divorce papers”, if she replied you didn’t hear it; not with her thighs pressed against your ears.
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