#this is affecting All of us right now. we are all going to be in deep shit.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

Explosions in the Rain - K. Bakugo

When you were four years old, you were physically Katsuki Bakugo’s greatest pain in the ass.

Your Quirk was Precipitation, which allowed you to control and manipulate water, but specifically water from the atmosphere or the air around you, such as the rain. For as long as you could remember, whenever Bakugo created those annoyingly loud and intrusive explosions of his, you would also gather the water particles in the air around you and drop water at his hands to stop the explosion. You effortlessly pissed him off to no end, especially when you would always stop him from bullying Izuku.

He hated it; how you got so used to stopping him from creating his explosions to the point where you could even predict when, where, and how he was going to use them. You read him like a book, and he despised it. He despised how well you knew him, despised how perceptive you were despite only being four and the same age as him, and despised how you made him feel weak.

When you were twelve years old, you were mentally Bakugo’s greatest pain in the ass.

It’s already been established for the past eight years that you had grown completely and utterly familiar with Bakugo and his Quirk. But twelve was a difficult age for everyone; most people were entering puberty, it was the time of inexperienced preteens doing things that they will regret later in life, and most people began to understand their crushes.

Bakugo wasn’t most people. When his heart raced whenever you spoke or bickered with him, he assumed that he was just getting adrenaline from “winning” the argument (he usually always lost in the end). Whenever his face reddened when you accidentally brushed his hand or touched him, he just assumed that he was angry. Whenever you defended Izuku from Bakugo, he always assumed that he was pissed because of the sole fact that you were defending Deku of all people.

When you were sixteen years old, you were supposedly Bakugo’s greatest pain in the ass.

You were both first years at UA, and despite your constant arguing, name calling, and childlike behavior with each other, everyone always assumed at first meeting that you were both dating but just had particularly strange ways of showing affection. They had even spread rumors that you were both dating--although you were both used to it, as the same thing used to happen in middle school.

You both denied those rumors, although deep inside of Bakugo’s heart, he did want those rumors to be true. However, even with the knowledge from the both of you that the rumors were false, most people still assumed that you were both in love. After all, you both always looked for each other during a villain attack and stuck to each other’s side. No one will ever forget just how fragmented your mental state was when Bakugo was kidnapped by the League of Villains, and how you cried when you and a few others managed to get him back.

When you were seventeen, Bakugo realized that you were never his greatest pain in the ass, but his greatest soft spot and weakness.

How absolutely heartwrenching your scream was when he basically died. How he felt his soul leave his body when you saw you bloody and unconscious. How he held you close when the war ended and you both narrowly survived.

And finally, finally, he realized that all this time, he never despised the feelings you gave him. He adored it, and he began to relish in it. The red on his cheeks and how you held his heart in your hands and never once dropped it. How he loved you.

When you were twenty-two years old, you truly became Bakugo’s greatest weakness.

Or perhaps we should change how we address him to Katsuki, as Bakugo is now also your last name.

The cold golden ring against your finger was a small yet impactful sensation, enough to make you tear up. You’ve always dreamed of this day, of getting married to the one you loved most. And standing right in front of you at the altar was your dearest Katsuki, who you refused to allow to wear makeup to cover up his scars. “Today, we are here to celebrate the knot of two wonderful young souls…” the priest began.

As the priest finished his long speech, Katsuki leaned in, and right before he kissed you, he muttered something. “You know, growing up, you were my biggest pain in the ass.”

“Same with you.” You murmured, chuckling breathily. His eyes softened before cupping your cheek with a calloused hand.

“I’ll love growing old with you just as much as I did growing up with you. I love you.”

He kissed you after those words, and finally, you eternally became Katsuki’s greatest weakness.

This was made on a whim, and this is also my first time ever writing for MHA…do tell me what you think of this lmao

[fawniswriting]

Before I Could Say It

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis: The three times Bucky almost confessed his love to you, and the one time he finally does.

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning(s): can be read as gn!reader bcs I didn't use any gender-specific words (pls advise me if this isn't true). canon divergence. no use of Y/N. use of the nicknames sugar and sweetheart. insecure thoughts. bucky feeling like he's not good enough. unrequited love (or is it?). alcohol consumption. a bit hurt/comfort. profanities. use of weaponry, including but not limited to guns and knives. depictions of violence, blood, injuries, and murder. (near) death experience. angst. fluff. open ending.

Author's Note: Hii guys. I know I should be focusing all of my energy on Faithfully Yours right now, but I had the idea for this story and just couldn't pass it up!! We have a bit of an open ending here. I wasn't planning on making a part two but I'll see what the general consensus say and will decide whether or not a part two is due from the responses. anywayy hope you enjoy this one xx don't forget to comment, like, and reblog!!

When Bucky tried to think about the beginning, his mind always drew a blank.

It had been five years since the first time destiny orchestrated your paths to cross, six if one were to count the one-year cryogenic sleep that Bucky spent in Wakanda. The Soldat met you first, back when you, Steve, Sam, and Nat fought him on that highway shoot-out that revealed his identity. After that, you were everywhere—in Bucharest with Steve to coax him out of hiding, on the tarmac battle where you went against half of your own family for his sake, and even in Wakanda, where your eyes became one of the last pairs he saw before his body succumbed to the unforgiving clutches of darkness.

And when he was finally woken up, you were there, too, waiting for him.

Since then, Bucky struggled to remember a time when you weren't there. You supervised his deprogramming in Wakanda, becoming Steve's eyes and ears while the Captain roamed the world as both a fugitive and a vigilante. When the Sokovia Accords turned void, and the scientists in Wakanda assured Bucky that his mind wasn't going to betray his heart anymore, you took him back to New York, offering solace in the form of your warmth pressing against his side on the plane ride to the States. 

Even once the two of you landed on the compound's grounds, you never strayed too far—standing between Bucky and a begrudging Tony as if you were ready to launch yourself forward should the billionaire try to do anything untoward. As if the ruthless Winter Soldier needed a human shield to prevent him from shattering into fragile little pieces.

Before Bucky knew it, his entire routine—his entire life—became you.

From your morning spar sessions in the gym, the long walks around Brooklyn in the afternoon, to the weekly movie nights that you roped him into in the name of reacquainting him with pop culture—everything in Bucky’s life started to shape and smell like you. 

It was a constant. 

You were Bucky’s new constant.

And somewhere along the way, Bucky’s little troublemaker of a heart decided, once and for all, to anchor itself to yours.

True to his fashion, Steve was the first person to notice. All of the lingering touches and longing glances, the hard-etched lines of Bucky’s countenance that seemed to soften every time you were near—they spoke of an affection beyond a mere loyalty one might harbor for their teammate. It spoke of love, one that was so unadulteratedly pure and raw that Steve was sure there was no room left in the crevices of Bucky’s heart where a piece of you didn’t reside in.

“You’ve gotta say something, Buck,” Steve said to Bucky one evening.

The two of them were standing in the convention hall of a lavish hotel deep in the heart of Manhattan, surrounded by a guestlist of people that Bucky was assured were some of the most influential figures of the twenty-first century. People tried to swarm him since the moment he entered the party, shoving business cards to his face and dropping names that Bucky knew should have meant something to him. He paid none of them any mind—not when his eyes immediately found you in that sea of ties and ball gowns, just like a moth enticed to a flame.

You were all dolled up for the night, wearing a fancy little number that screams you if only with a little bit of additional sparkles sprinkled on top. Bucky watched you move through the ocean of people, confidence oozing out of every step, a blinding smile as you received each handshake with an indisputable poise. Bucky’s head whipped towards your direction at every echo of laughter, searching for the source, drinking in your infectious glee as if it were the only way to sustain the rhythmic beating of his heart.

Bucky shifted in his feet, Steve’s unprompted advice forcing him to tear his eyes away from where you were standing by Natasha’s side. The blond beside him smiled knowingly, a teasing yet sincere tilt in his voice as he added, “You’ve gotta tell at some point, pal. Better sooner rather than later.”

The line in Bucky’s jaw ticked. He brought the glass of champagne to his lips, tipping the drink back as though the liquid stood a chance against his enhanced metabolism. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Buck.”

“Punk.”

The Captain sighed, reaching for a drink of his own. “At least ask for a dance, will you?”

Before Bucky could register what was happening, Steve had shoved Bucky forward, sending him stumbling forth towards the direction of your canorous laughter. Steve hid his amused smile behind his drink when Bucky flipped him the finger, the latter continuing his steps on wobbly feet, trying to ignore the pounding travelling up his bloodstreams.

“Hey, Bucky,” you greeted as soon as he had reached you. The smile on your face could rival the sun even on its brightest day, and Bucky prayed to every divine being in the universe that he could be on the receiving end of that smile for the rest of his days.

“Barnes.” Natasha nodded. 

“Hey, guys. What’s up?” Bucky attempted a smile, tugging at the ridiculous material of his bow tie that Tony had insisted him to wear. In fact, Tony was the one who forced Bucky to attend this whole shindig in the first place—something about showing a united front to prove to the public that there was no bad blood within the Avengers’ team. 

It was a shit ton of bullshit, in Bucky’s opinion.

But at least, the party gave him a chance to see you all dressed up to the nines.

“Nothing much.” You shrugged, tilting your head slightly to the side. “Did you need something?”

“No. I mean, I do. I was, um, wondering—” Bucky cleared his throat, “—I actually wanted to see if you’d care to join me for a dance?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Natasha’s eyes widen slightly. The redhead immediately scurried to the side, feigning interest in the tower of chocolate fondue just a couple of feet away.

Bucky’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest when you extended your palm towards him. “I would love to, Buck. Lead the way.”

Your fingers emitted warmth inside his hand, and for a moment, Bucky faltered. He kept his composure enough to guide you through the sea of couples on the dancefloor, willing the erratic thumping in his chest to quieten down as he pulled you flush against his body. The scent of your perfume slithered through the air, filling Bucky’s lungs, attacking each part of his senses until everything Bucky saw, heard, smelled, and felt was you.

“You look beautiful tonight, Sugar.”

The admission tumbled from his lips before Bucky had a chance to stop them, before he could thoroughly process the implications of such candor. You didn’t seem to mind, though. Instead, your persistent smile widened ever so slightly, your eyes twinkling under the glimmering lights of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“Why, you look plenty dashing yourself, Bucky.” You hummed appreciatively, raking your eyes up and down Bucky’s suit-clad figure. “I must say, I was sad to see your long hair gone, but this looks great as well.”

Your fingers skimmed the hard contour of Bucky’s shoulder, leaving goosebumps on their wake, before sneaking through the short tendrils on the nape of his neck. He fought off a groan at the contact, the heavenly feeling of your fingers tugging at his hair sending shivers all throughout his body. Meanwhile, you were still smiling up at him all sweetly, completely oblivious to the rush of heat that you delivered through Bucky’s entire being.

“Sugar,” the nickname fell off Bucky’s lips in a low grunt, and for the first time that night, your composure staggered. 

Your breath hitched around a squeak when Bucky managed to tug you closer, circling his arms around your waist until there was barely room for air between both of your bodies. All around you, the world ceased to exist. The only thing that remained were your bated breaths, a raucous disruption through the electric field buzzing between where you and Bucky were pressed against one another. 

“I need to tell you something,” Bucky revealed, his voice low and sheer, stripped by unease and something akin to fear. 

Your forehead furrowed, undoubtedly sensing the trepidation shining out of the blue of Bucky’s eyes. “What’s the matter, Buck?”

Your palm landed on his stubbled cheek, and Bucky had to fight the urge to lean in, to chase more of your warmth like you were an oasis in the middle of his desert of a life. He grappled for the confession to come, for the feelings in his chest to solidify into something comprehensible. All Bucky had to do was open his mouth and seize the moment.

But just as quickly as it had arrived, the moment splintered through his fingertips.

“Good evening, everyone!”

Bucky's whole body jerked in surprise, his accusatory eyes instantly finding the MC standing on the stage at the front of the room. The music had stopped, replaced by the MC's welcoming remarks addressed towards a dozen supposedly prominent names that Bucky couldn't care less about.

“Hey, let's go find a seat,” you suggested, circling your tender fingers around Bucky's wrist before leading him through the maze of tables.

The two of you sat down just in time for Tony to deliver his opening speech as a representative of the Avengers. You glanced at Bucky in the middle of Tony's heartfelt sentiment about “shaping the future”, your hand finding Bucky's flesh one on his thigh, unaware of the kind of turmoil you have summoned from a single touch.

“You okay, Bucky?” you asked, squeezing his hand. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

I wanted to tell you that I love you, Bucky's heart echoed. I don't know when it started, and I don't know how, all I know is that you're every good thing that I have going on in my life.

Bucky's throat tightened.

He never ended up saying the words out loud. Instead, he smiled thinly. “It's not important, sweetheart. I'll tell you later.”

You assessed him curiously before offering him a small smile and directing your attention back towards the stage. Bucky sighed in the aftermath, feeling the wild beating of his heart settled to a normal one.

And just like that, the truth died on the tip of his tongue.

Weeks passed, and between countless briefings, missions, and reports, Bucky was forced to push all matters concerning his heart to the side. It wasn't easy, not when you occupied every facet of Bucky's otherwise monotone life. Every waking moment was a painful reminder that you were always within reach, but never close enough for him to have.

Following a successful infiltration into an illegal bio-weapon factory in the outskirts of Poland, the team had landed their jet on one of the safehouse grounds somewhere near the border of Poland and Germany. Natasha and Clint disappeared inside the house immediately upon landing, while Sam and Steve stayed on the quinjet to go over a few intels they had managed to gather from the factory.

Bucky's boots scraped softly against the grass as he crossed the distance towards the small lake just a few yards left to the safehouse. The surrounding trees rustled in the wind, a symphony of reds and oranges beneath the solemn autumn sky. On the shore of the lake, Bucky found you sitting, a rare serene look on your face as you closed your eyes to welcome the impending breeze.

“Hi, Bucky,” you greeted, eyes still shut tightly.

“How'd you know it was me, Sugar?”

“I always know when it's you.”

The moment your eyes opened, Bucky's heart stuttered in its cage. The smile you rewarded him was soft, embellished with a tenderness that a man of his repute would never deserve. He knew he should have looked away, but the selfish part of him wanted to hold your stare in place, to relish in your kindness no matter how much he believed he wasn't worthy of it.

“Come on, sit with me.”

You patted the ground next to you, and Bucky obeyed without further questions. He lowered himself on the grass, damp from the lingering chill of autumn air, and stretched his legs out. For a while, neither of you spoke, opting to enjoy the sound of water lapping lazily against the shore, a stark tranquility to the horrors you faced during the mission earlier.

The sky dimmed a tad darker as the sun ducked behind the cover of trees, leaving behind streaks of purple and gold on the horizon. Beside him, you heaved out a sigh, the remnants of sun casting your skin in an ethereal glow.

“Sometimes I wish moments like this could last forever,” you murmured.

Bucky's eyes slid towards you, studying the contours of your face like a historian would an ancient scripture. His fingers twitched, itching to feel every soft and hard edge of your features under the brush of his touch. 

You're the only thing in this world I want forever with.

The words resonated in his head and all the way down to his chest, settling like stone sinking underwater, slow and heavy. He almost said it out loud—nearly laid his heart bare for you to judge and scrutinize. But at last, he fabricated a grin and nudged his shoulder playfully to yours.

“You always get sentimental when you're tired,” he joked.

You laughed heartily at his jab, a melodic thing that wrested at every coil of Bucky's heartstrings. The two of you proceeded to watch the sunset together, the silence stretching between you, warm and comfortable. The sky burned in more explosions of hues, casting its reflection upon the lake like a dream neither of you dared to disturb. 

If Bucky were a braver man, a better man—one that wasn't weighed down by his history and remorse—maybe he would have told you. Maybe, in another life, Bucky would have charmed you at first sight, claiming you as his before the day could even end. But for now, Bucky was glad to settle for this—for sharing a quiet moment with you, and to bask in your company as though he were worthy of even a fraction of your attention.

For now, Bucky would let the four-letter word wither inside him, locked in a hidden fissure somewhere within his chest, keeping it safe from ever seeing any light of day.

Days flew by, and it was getting increasingly harder for Bucky to ignore the way his heart gravitated towards yours, to ignore the fact that you were always the first person he searched for in the morning and the last one he wanted to talk to before falling asleep. To pretend like the mere mention of your name didn't send a jolt that revived his entire being. Every single day was a battle between wish and logic—the unruly desire to make you his, and the rational reluctance of dragging you into the mess that was his life.

“This is getting ridiculous, Buck,” Steve said as he leaned back against the bar right next to Bucky, following the latter's eyesight to find you standing at the end of it. “You're just gonna avoid it forever? An eternal silent treatment? The two of you need to talk, whether you like it or not.”

Bucky inhaled a long breath, swirling the Asgardian mead in his glass without ever taking his eyes off you. It was your birthday—a joyous occasion that called for this merry yet intimate celebration with the entire team. The common room of the compound had been transformed into something warm and inviting, lit by the soft glow of string lights draped along the walls. A cake sat on the counter, half-eaten, its candles long blown out, but the remnants of your laughter from when you made your wish still lingered in the air.

From across the room, Bucky watched as Sam teased you about getting older, earning the bird-man a playful swat on his arm. Wanda handed you a small, neatly wrapped gift, and your eyes lit up in a way that made Bucky’s chest ache. He didn’t know what was in the box. He didn’t really care. All he knew was that he wanted to be the reason behind that breathtaking smile of yours.

And then, your eyes lifted.

The eye contact was fleeting. Brief. Gone by the time Bucky realized what was happening and forced his gaze away. Even then, Bucky still caught the hint of surprise as your eyes found his, replaced almost immediately by a longing that Bucky understood all too well. It clutched onto his heart, sinking its sharp nails until the life organ in his chest was bruised and brutally torn apart.

The Captain sighed. “You're being an idiot, pal.”

Bucky knew Steve was right—he was being an idiot. A coward, even. It was his own damn foolishness that had kept him avoiding you for weeks, skipping your morning spars, slipping out of any room you occupied before you could even notice his presence. All because he couldn’t handle the feelings that had taken root in his chest, the one that was growing stronger by the minute, infiltrating deeper into his system every time you so much as looked his way.

The party was still in full swing by the time Bucky decided to retire for the night, forgoing the goodbyes, heading straight to the elevator that took him back to his quarters. It was a few hours later when a clumsy knock sounded against his door, breaking through the quiet that had settled in his room.

“Sugar?”

Bucky's hand clenched around the door handle, his eyebrows knitting together at the sight of you in front of his bedroom.

“Hi, Buckyyy,” you greeted, your words slurring into uncontrollable giggles.

 Understanding dawned on Bucky's shoulders. “Sweetheart, are you drunk?”

“Am not!” You huffed, pushing past a stunned Bucky to enter the bedroom. 

You looked around for a moment, humming to yourself every time you came across a familiar token that decorated Bucky's room. There was a photo of you and him on the nightsand, a sketch of the Brooklyn Bridge courtesy of Steve hanging on the wall, and a few vinyl records stacked neatly on the shelf, gifted by various members of the team. At last, your steps halted beside the bed, and without a warning, you dove head first into the mattress, chuckling to yourself as you attempted to make snow angels with his blankets.

“This is sooo niceee,” you mused, burying youself deeper into one of Bucky's pillows. “Smells like you, Buck.”

The super soldier tried not to dwell too much on the sight of you lying on his bed, looking like you had always belonged in the same place that Bucky took his rest. A shiver ran down Bucky's spine as he closed the door behind him, his feet quiet against the carpeted floor before he took a tentative seat on the edge of the bed.

“Sugar?” Bucky took your shoulders in his grasp, turning you around until his eyes locked with yours. His heart staggered. “You wanna get back to your room? I could take you.”

His offer made you sit up in seconds, so fast that Bucky feared you might have given yourself a whiplash. He stared at you as your lips trembled, your whole body turning away from him until you were just a breadth out of his reach.

His fingers contracted in grief.

“Hey, Sugar? What's—”

“Why do you hate me?”

Silence.

Bucky's forehead creased in confusion.

“Hate you?” Bucky tasted the accusation on his tongue—the word being so foreign and farfetched from anything he could associate with you that Bucky had to wonder if he had misheard what you spoke. “Sweetheart, I don't hate you.”

“Liar.” You scoffed, scooting towards the foot of the bed, seemingly adamant to draw as much distance as possible between Bucky and yourself. “You have been avoiding me for weeks. You don't want to talk to me, or do anything with me. You hate me.”

Bucky blinked, stunned into momentary silence before shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of the sheer absurdity of your words. “That’s not true,” he murmured, his voice rough with something that sounded dangerously close to regret.

You laughed at his response—a wry, sarcastic laugh that was void of even the smallest hint of your usual warmth. “Then what other possible reason could you have for avoiding me, Bucky? Hm?” Your head turned towards him, and for the first time that night, Bucky finally saw the telltale sign of tears in your eyes, a glassy sheen that erased any remnant of the wits that Bucky had grown to know and love.

His stomach churned.

Guilt was eating at him alive. He couldn't believe that his stupidity had caused this—that he had hurt you due to his own incapability of controlling his emotions. Bucky didn't know what he was thinking when he decided that the best course of action would be to completely evade you, but he certainly didn't think that it would result in this.

With you, sitting on his bed, crying your eyes out while simultaneously breaking Bucky's heart in the process.

Bucky exhaled sharply, as if the weight of his own remorse was pressing down on his chest. He couldn't stand it—the way your shoulders quivered, the way you tried so desperately to keep your composure together as tears welled in your eyes.

"Sweetheart," he rasped, reaching for you, his fingers hesitant at first before firming in resolve. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

You stiffened at his touch, your lips parting as if to protest, but Bucky was already pulling you into his embrace, holding you tightly against the muscular panes of his chest. His hands skimmed soothingly along your back, whispers of sweet nothings falling from his lips as he rocked you in the safety of his arms.

“I don't hate you, Sugar,” he murmured, voice shattering around the edges. “I've never hated you. How could I?”

How could I hate you when you are the only source of light I have remaining in this world? How could I hate you when loving you is the only thing about my life that I am absolutely certain of?

Your breath hitched against his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Bucky—”

“Shh,” he soothed, pressing his lips to your temple in a featherlight touch. “Just let me hold you, okay?”

Slowly, he guided the both of you down onto his bed, his arms never loosening from where they were wrapped around your body. His heartbeat thumped steadily beneath your cheek, his fingers drawing lazy patterns against your back. The tension in your body melted bit by bit with each gentle word, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into something softer—something safe.

“Don't ever do that to me again,” you warned shakily. “Promise me.”

Bucky's hold around you tightened. “I promise.”

“Good.” You sighed, exhaustion wearing down every inch of your bones. “You're my favorite person, Bucky.”

The admission pierced Bucky's chest like a lightning strike. He knew he should not have read too much into it, that the revelation was nothing more than a drunken slip of tongue that you probably would not even remember in the morning. But for now, Bucky chose to let that little detail slide, to let himself pretend that the confession had been made with more purposeful intent behind it—that the words had meant as much to you as it did to Bucky.

"Sleep, sweetheart," he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. "I've got you."

Since that night in his bedroom, Bucky had made a vow: he wasn't going to run anymore.

Bucky had learned his lesson. He wasn't going to let his own fears dictate his actions, nor would he allow his emotions ruin the precious friendship he had built with you over the past few years. Whatever he felt—whatever torment clawed at his chest whenever you so much as looked his way—it was his burden to bear. You didn't deserve to suffer for his cowardice, and he swore to himself that he would never let it happen again.

That thought lingered in Bucky's mind as he moved stealthily through the abandoned industrial site, gun drawn, boots scraping silently against the cracked concrete floor. The mission was straightforward: take out remaining hostiles, extract any valuable intel, and regroup. Simple. A basic in and out job that would be done just in time for dinner.

The team had split into pairs, and as fate would have it—or rather, as Steve would have it—Bucky found himself assigned to the west wing of the site alongside you. The direct channel to your comms in Bucky’s earpiece was quiet, and the super soldier took it as a good indication that your side of the mission was going smoothly. Meanwhile, he swept through his own side of hallways with methodical precision, checking every room, muttering a curt “clear” to his comms for each canvassed area. 

The air was eerie with cold and mold when Bucky entered the last remaining room in the hallway. There was nothing particularly different about this one. It was just as empty and as menacing, smelling of rat’s piss and years of abandonment, though his seasoned instinct—one sculpted from years of fighting and survival—warned him that something was amiss. His fingers tightened around his weapon almost instinctively, feeling an immediate unease venture up his spine, raising the very hair on the back of his neck.

The silence was too perfect.

Bucky’s feet skidded to a stop, turning on his heel to retrace his steps back towards the entrance.

Then, it happened.

The ambush struck like lightning on water. One second Bucky was alone, and the next, shadows had flooded the room, faceless figures in tactical gears leaping towards him at the same time. They were fast and ruthless, and even though none seemed to possess enhanced abilities, Bucky was still outnumbered. He dodged the first three attackers easily enough—disarming the blade from the first assailant’s hand, ducking out of the swinging baton of the second’s, and rolling on the floor before redirecting the third one’s bullet with the palm of his vibranium arm.

Bucky dashed out of the room into the one right across, the group of attackers still hot on his tail. He ducked behind a metal table and started opening fires at the entrance, taking out the threats before they even got the chance to enter the room. A curse fell under his breath when Bucky realized that he had worked through his rounds, scrambling to replace the ammunition as footsteps thundered into the room.

Slamming the fresh magazine in place, Bucky inhaled a gearing breath, only to be met with a sudden hush that descended through the air.

He raised his gun.

Instead of finding himself at the end of numerous gun barrels, Bucky was granted the view of bodies scattered all over the floor. The tang of iron meshed detestably with the spoor of grime, fog swirling around the edge of Bucky’s adrenaline-honed mind. When the dust finally stifled, his focus immediately zeroed in on the figure standing amidst the wreckage, rising out of the smoke like a doomsday’s salvation.

“Hi, handsome.” You smiled around a heavy exhale, a crinkle in your eye that seized the very life out of Bucky’s lungs. “Miss me?”

Bucky let out a rough breath, somewhere between relief and admiration. The grip around his weapon slackened ever so slightly, his body still thrumming with fight-and-flight, though the sight of your beautiful smile had managed to wash him with the kind of serenity that no other person could compel.

“Was wondering when you’d show up, sweetheart,” Bucky said, rising from his makeshift fortress behind the table.

“Sorry, Sarge.” You hummed, casually brushing the dust off Bucky’s shoulder as though the contact didn’t send him skyrocketing to heaven. “You know I like to keep people on their toes.”

Bucky failed to suppress his grin, nudging your shoulder as the two of you headed towards the entrance. With the hostiles neutralized, and the information uploaded to the flash drive discreetly tucked in the safety of Bucky’s inside pocket, the two of you were prepared for extraction. He redirected his comms to the main channel, alerting the other team members that the two of you were ready to wrap up and get the hell out of this dismal place.

He was barely a foot out of the door when a loud bang resonated in the air.

In a split second, Bucky sprung in retaliation, taking aim at one of the bloody assailants on the ground that had somehow taken hold of a gun, Bucky’s finger pulling at his own weapon’s trigger, assassinating him in place.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Bucky’s heart throbbed in his throat, a silent prayer on his lips at how close of a call it had almost been. His gaze took a quick scan of the pile of bodies on the floor, making sure that none of them would pull a similar stunt, only allowing his shoulders to deflate when he saw no remaining signs of life.

“Bucky?”

Your voice barely reached him, thin despite the echoic air of this dingy site, but something inside Bucky twisted the moment he heard it.

When he turned, the initial relief that had flooded his chest instantly collapsed.

You were standing there, just a breadth out of reach with your gun still tightly clutched between your fingers. But the side of your neck—God, the side of your neck—was slick with red, thick and dark as it ran in angry runnels down your skin, staining the collar of your tactical gear, pooling on your shoulder and drenching everything it touched.

Your whole body swayed.

Bucky’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.

“No, no, no—” he rasped as he caught you, arms winding around your frame to prevent you from hitting the floor. His knees slammed onto the cold concrete below as he cradled you against his chest, the tremble in his body betraying the steel he was supposed to be made out of.

Bucky blinked, willing this moment to splinter into a dream, willing for his body to be transported back into the comfort of his bedroom where the scene playing out in front of his eyes would be nothing more than a heinous nightmare. But as Bucky’s arms tightened around your limp figure, the awful, gut-wrenching truth settled like ice in his veins. 

This was real. 

The blood seeping through your gear wasn’t imagined. The faint hitch in your breath, the loss of color from your face, the sheer terror clawing its way up his throat—none of it was a dream.

His chest crashed.

“Hey, hey. I got you, Sugar.” His voice cracked as he pressed a palm against your wound, despairingly staunching the warmth from slipping through his fingers. But no matter how hard he was grasping, the blood just kept on flowing—too fast and too much—soaking his hands and every corner of his battered soul.

“Shit. Stay with me, sweetheart. Please,” he begged. “Steve! Nat! Somebody get here now!” he barked into his earpiece, nails digging deeper into your skin. “We need a medic! We need a—fuck—just get down here!”

You made a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, your breath warm against his cheek as you murmured, “I-It’s gonna… gonna be o-okay.”

It was a lie.

You both knew it.

And it destroyed him. 

“Don’t do that.” Bucky shook his head, his voice cracking around a choked sob. He forced a smile as he looked down at your pale face. “You always suck at lying.”

Your lips parted, the faintest ghost of a smile trying to make its way through, only to be interrupted by a wet cough that made Bucky’s chest cave in.

“Gotta stay with me, sweetheart. Please,” Bucky whimpered. “The team’s coming. Help is on the way. Just gotta hang in there a little more for me, yeah? Just a little longer. Please.”

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure to whom he was begging—whether it was you, the universe, or any higher divine power that might have heard his wretched prayer and taken pity on him. A man who had lost everything and asked for nothing, who was now asking for someone—anyone—to save the only thing in this world that made his life worth living, even if it meant having to sacrifice his soul in exchange.

Your hand reached out tentatively, shakily, gripping the strap of his tactical jacket and giving it the faintest tug. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, voice dissipating like a wisp of smoke as soon as you had uttered his name. Your eyes, glassy and unfocused, searched for his, and when they finally found him, a weak smile curved at your lips. “I love you.”

A sound tore from his throat, raw and full of despair. His forehead dropped against yours, his entire body rupturing under the weight of your words.

“I love you.” Bucky’s voice stammered. “God, I love you—I love you, sweetheart, I love you so much.” He pressed his lips against your clammy forehead, again and again, as though he could tether you here, as though his love alone could be enough to keep you from slipping away.

He should have been happy—should have felt something else other than this hollow, scorching agony. The person of his dreams, the one he had spent sleepless nights longing for, had just made the one admission that his heart had been wanting to hear, and yet, all he could do was break. His whole being perished under the weight of everything left unsaid, every moment wasted, every regret carving him open from the inside out.

He should have told you sooner.

God, he should have just told you—should have braced past his insecurities and found the courage somehow, should have showered you with every drop of love he had neatly stowed in his heart until he was shriveled and had no else to give. He should have bought you flowers everyday, let you know that you were the most beautiful person Bucky had ever met on this goddamn planet—because you deserved it.

You deserved everything.

Not this.

Not bleeding on the filthy floor of this desolate place, fighting off death that had bludgeoned its way right through your door.

“You’re gonna be okay, Sugar. We’re getting out of here, you hear me?” His breath stuttered, his grip tightening as if he could physically gather all of your fragmented pieces and mend you as new. “I’m gonna treat you so good. You’ll see. Gonna spoil you rotten like I ought to. Just—please, just hold on—”

Your fingers twitched against his chest. Your eyes fluttered.

A quivering breath left your lips before your body went completely limp.

Bucky stilled.

“Sugar?”

Nothing.

No soft inhale. No faint murmurs of response.

No squeeze of your fingers against his jacket.

Bucky’s entire world came crashing down in the blink of an eye.

“No. No, no, no, no—”

His hand cupped your face, blood smearing from his skin to yours. Bucky’s fingers trembled as he tapped your cheek, as if the action alone could keep you here, could bring you back to him. His breathing ceased, his whole body shuddering as he rocked you in his arms, your name tumbling over and over again from his lips like a prayer, like a curse, like a plea to the universe to undo everything, to give him one more chance, to take him instead.

“Come back to me,” he whispered, his face wet with the fractured shards of his heart. “Please.”

The only thing that acknowledged him was silence.

And Bucky Barnes had never hated the quiet more.

[screaminglygay]

third time is a charm, right? (part ten)

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader, wanda maximoff x fem!reader, natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff, carol danvers x fem!reader (platonic), past carol danvers x natasha romanoff

summary: you and wanda force carol and natasha to have a "civil" conversation, which leads to some closure for all the sides.

warnings: swear words, natasha being jealous (but she´s working on it i promise), explicit content, power dynamics, teasing, bdsm, reader being tied to a bed, scissoring, smut overall, punishment, edging, overstimulation, natasha being slightly mean, dirty talk... phew that´s it i think?

word count: 10k

an: last part guys:( but i do have to say i put my heart and pussy into this one, so i hope its a nice way to end this:)

(italica = your thoughts)

Time passes, and things settle into something that feels real. Not just nights tangled up together, not just teasing touches or fleeting moments, but something steady, something solid, that few weeks ago seemed like a one big illusion. Dates here and there, stolen moments in their busy schedules, slow mornings with Wanda, pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder while Natasha grumbles about early meetings.

It’s different now. More than just physical. You belong here. You truly do.

That’s when they invite you to stay at their place for a while. A little vacation, as Wanda puts it, a chance to be with them without the constant interruptions of the outside world.

You hesitate at first. "But I have to go to work, I can´t just stay, you know?"

Wanda waves a hand. "Oh, well, we said you’re still recovering from your ankle."

You blink, processing her words. Then, you frown. "You did what?"

Wanda and Natasha exchange a look, and Natasha lifts a shoulder in a lazy shrug. "It made sense. You needed time off anyway."

You push back from the couch, standing as frustration bubbles up. "Don’t do that. Don’t speak for me like that, especially about my job." Your voice is firm, but there’s no real anger behind it. Just disappointment. "I get what you were trying to do, and I appreciate the thought, but that’s not okay. I can handle things myself."

For a moment, there's silence. Then Natasha sighs, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Noted."

Wanda presses her lips together, then gives you an apologetic smile. "You’re right, detka. We won’t do it again."

"Good." You exhale, shaking your head, but the tension eases.

Natasha watches you for a moment before smirking. "You know, I never thought I’d see the day where you scold us, but here we are."

You cross your arms, raising a brow. "I mean it."

Natasha’s smirk softens just slightly, and Wanda steps closer, brushing her fingers along your wrist in a small, reassuring touch. "And we hear you."

“But we already called, so…” Wanda says, tilting her head at you with a knowing smirk.

You huff, uncrossing your arms, but the warmth in your chest betrays you. “Fine, yeah, okay. I won’t say no to that.”

Wanda grins in victory, and Natasha just shakes her head, clearly amused. The day continues with a quiet small moments. Dinner filled with light teasing and the occasional brush of fingers, the kind of effortless affection you never thought you’d have with them. A movie follows, and though you try to pay attention, you find yourself more focused on the feeling of Natasha’s hand lazily tracing patterns on your thigh and Wanda’s head resting against your shoulder.

A few more days pass, and it’s all still… nice. Too nice. Which is why you finally bring it up one evening, curled up on the couch between them.

"But what about your CEO jobs?" you ask, glancing between them. "Don’t you two have empires to run?"

Natasha chuckles, draping an arm over the back of the couch. "We’re the CEOs. If we want a break, we’ll take one."

"Bucky’s handling everything," Wanda adds, reaching for her wine glass. "No worries." Then, after a thoughtful sip, she smirks. "He might need a wellness retreat after, though."

"More like therapy with all the idiots he has to deal with," Natasha mutters, rolling her eyes.

You snort, "Poor Bucky."

Neither of them disagree, and as you settle in, completely at ease, Natasha’s phone buzzes on the coffee table. The screen lights up with a text from Bucky: "You owe me BIG TIME."

But this is not the only message that stirs some emotions over the time you’re with them.

It starts small, just casual texts exchanged between you and Carol. She’s been nothing but a good friend, someone easy to talk to, and the connection is effortless. You check in on each other, share jokes, sometimes send random pictures. You don’t think much of it.

Natasha, however, does.

She doesn’t say anything at first, but Wanda notices. As always.

One evening, while you’re in the shower, Wanda finds Natasha in the kitchen, staring at her phone, brows furrowed. Wanda raises an eyebrow as she approaches, watching the way Natasha’s thumb hovers over the screen, unreadable emotions flickering across her face.

"You gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?" Wanda teases lightly, leaning against the counter.

Natasha exhales sharply, locking her phone and shoving it onto the counter. "It’s nothing."

Wanda hums, unconvinced. "You sure? Because you’ve been acting off every time she texts Carol."

Natasha’s jaw tightens.

"Nat," Wanda coaxes, stepping closer. "Talk to me."

There’s a pause. A beat too long. Then Natasha sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I just… don’t like it."

"Her texting Carol?"

"Her spending time with Carol," Natasha corrects, pushing off the counter and crossing her arms. "I mean come on, Wanda. You saw how much time she spends with her. They are close."

Wanda tilts her head. "And?"

Natasha scoffs. “And it’s Carol.”

Wanda laughs, shaking her head. "You’re being ridiculous. Carol is her friend."

"And my ex-" Natasha stops herself, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "I don’t like the way Carol looks at her."

"Carol looks at everyone like that," Wanda points out.

Natasha glares. "That doesn’t make me feel better."

Wanda sighs, stepping closer and placing a hand on Natasha’s arm. "She’s with us, Nat. Not Carol."

"She was with us before, too," Natasha mutters, and there it is the real reason behind her unease.

Wanda softens. "And she came back."

That doesn’t seem to settle Natasha’s nerves, but she doesn’t argue. Instead, she nods once, pressing her lips together in that way she does when she’s holding something in. Wanda lets it go, for now.

Except, later that week, the conversation reignites in full force.

You come home, arms full of bags, smiling as you kick the door shut behind you. "I´m back! I was at this market, and Carol convinced me to get some plants and fruits and stuff-"

Natasha doesn’t even let you finish. "That’s what I was talking about!" She throws her hands up, looking at Wanda like she’s just proven a point. "See?"

You blink. "What?"

Wanda sighs, rubbing her temples. "Natasha…"

"No, don’t ‘Natasha’ me," she huffs, crossing her arms. "You’re always with her."

Your smile falters, confusion settling in. "I text her sometimes. We hang out. So?"

"So," Natasha emphasizes, her voice sharp, "I don’t like it."

Silence.

You exchange a look with Wanda, who gives you a patient, knowing glance, one that says, Let her talk.

So you do. "Why?"

Natasha shifts on her feet, avoiding your gaze. "Because she’s Carol," she mutters like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You sigh, setting the bags down. "Nat, she’s my friend."

Natasha clenches her jaw. "She wants more than that."

You shake your head. "No, she doesn’t."

"She does," Natasha insists. "I know Carol. I’ve known her for years."

"She knows I’m with you and Wanda."

Natasha scoffs. "Does she?"

"Nat," Wanda interjects gently, placing a hand on Natasha’s back, "maybe you should talk to Carol."

Natasha turns to her, incredulous. "Talk to her?"

"Yes," Wanda says simply. "Before you explode."

You cross your arms. "I think that’s a great idea."

Natasha glares between the both of you, but ultimately, she knows she’s lost. So, begrudgingly, she agrees.

You find yourself curled up on the couch, phone in hand, fingers hovering over Carol’s contact. This is stupid, right? They’re both adults. Natasha is just… Natasha. But the longer you sit in their apartment, the more you realize that things won’t settle unless you make them. So you finally type out a message.

You: Can you come to my flat?

The reply is almost instant.

Carol: If this is your way of asking me to be your thing on the side, then no.

You snort, shaking your head.

You: Very funny.

Carol: I thought so.

You: No, seriously. I need you to come over.

A pause. Then you see the three little dots.

Carol: You in trouble?

You: Not exactly. It’s about Natasha.

There’s another pause, longer this time.

Carol: Oh, this just got interesting.

You exhale sharply, rubbing your temple.

You: Can you be serious for like five seconds?

Carol: I can try, but no promises.

You groan and decide to just spell it out.

You: Natasha thinks you’re trying to steal me away.

This time, there’s no immediate reply. You stare at the screen, watching the three little dots appear, then disappear, then appear again. Finally, a message comes through.

Carol: …Wait, is this an intervention? Am I the problem?

You: Yes, you little shit.

Carol sends a string of laughing emojis.

Carol: That’s honestly kind of impressive. Didn’t even have to try.

You: Carol.

Carol: Fine, fine. So what’s the plan? I come over and what? Let her yell at me? Sounds fun.

You: I just need you two to talk. Like normal, civil adults.

Carol: Oh, I don’t know. Civil is a stretch.

You: Carol.

Carol: Alright, alright. I’ll come over. But only because this sounds way too entertaining to miss.

You let out a slow breath, already regretting this decision.

You: One condition... don’t make it worse.

Carol: No promises.

You stare at the screen for a long moment before flopping back against the couch with a groan. This was either going to solve everything… or end in disaster.

Maybe both.

A few days later… your apartment feels smaller than usual. Maybe it’s because of the tension hanging in the air, or maybe it’s because Natasha looks like she regrets every life choice that’s led her to this moment.

She’s sitting on your couch, arms crossed, her usual composed demeanor slightly crumbling as she mumbles under her breath.

"This is so stupid," she mutters. "This is ridiculous. I don’t even know why I- this is just… stupid."

Wanda, perched beside you on the arm of the couch, hides her amusement behind her cup of tea, watching as Natasha stews in her own bad decisions. You nudge her with your elbow, but she just smirks, clearly enjoying the sight of the great Natasha Romanoff spiraling.

There’s a knock at the door.

"Oh, this is gonna be good," Wanda murmurs under her breath before taking a sip of her tea. Shockingly she enjoys this a lot, taking the fact that Carol is Natasha´s ex, which suprise you a little.

You shoot her a look before pushing off the couch and heading to the door, steeling yourself. You swing it open, and there stands Carol, leaning against the doorframe, casual as ever, her usual shit-eating grin firmly in place.

"Well, well, well," she says, eyes sweeping past you to where Natasha is seated, visibly tense. "The moment we’ve all been waiting for."

Natasha exhales sharply. "I already hate this."

Carol steps inside like she owns the place, looking between the two of you. "You called for a meeting, I delivered. What’s next? Trial by combat?"

You glance at Wanda, who glances at you. Without a word, a silent agreement is made.

"Coffee?" Wanda asks casually.

"Coffee," you agree.

And before Natasha can even register what’s happening, you and Wanda are already at the door, stepping outside.

"Wait- " Natasha starts, but you just flash her an innocent smile.

"You got this," you say sweetly.

And with that, you and Wanda shut the door behind you, leaving Natasha and Carol alone in your apartment.

There’s a beat of silence before Carol hums, looking around. "(Y/N) should get a punching bag, though."

Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose. "You are insufferable."

Carol grins. "You love it. So, what? The one left standing wins?"

Natasha huffs out a short laugh, shaking her head. "Still have your wit, I see."

Carol shrugs. "What can I say? I like to keep things interesting."

Natasha rolls her eyes. This is going to be a long conversation.

Carol leans back against your kitchen counter, the usual cocky smirk still there, but her eyes are softer now. Less teasing, more genuine. She exhales, shaking her head with a little chuckle.

"Okay, I’ll ease up on the jokes," she says, crossing her arms. "I actually wanna talk."

Natasha, still sitting on the couch, just raises an eyebrow. "That’s new."

Carol rolls her eyes. "Do you really think I’m trying to steal her away?"

Natasha huffs out a laugh, the smirk that follows just as cocky as ever. "And you´re not trying to do that?"

Carol tilts her head, watching her for a moment. Then something clicks. "Ohhh," she says, dragging it out with an exaggerated nod. "So, it’s insecurity."

Natasha stiffens. "What? No. I’m not- no."

Carol just grins. "Nat, you forget we dated for quite some time. I know you."

Natasha glares, but it’s not as sharp as it should be. She looks away, jaw tightening slightly. "That was a long time ago."

Carol shrugs. "Still true, though." She pauses, then adds, "Besides, I’m not even single. I’m in a happy relationship."

Natasha’s head snaps back toward her, her frown deepening. "What?"

Carol blinks at her. "You didn’t know?"

Natasha narrows her eyes. "She didn’t tell me that."

Carol bursts out laughing, shaking her head in amusement. "Oh, she’s a little shit."

Natasha groans, rubbing her temple. "Unbelievable."

Carol just grins, before her expression softens. "Look, I get it, alright? You’re used to being in control, and she’s… well, she’s a wildcard."

Natasha stays silent, listening.

Carol smirks. "But she’s yours, Nat and you´re hers. You know that, right?"

Natasha doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then, quietly, "Yeah. I know."

Carol watches her, then lets out a teasing whistle. "Damn. You’re soft for her. It’s cute."

Natasha’s glare returns instantly. "Shut up."

Carol just laughs, shaking her head. "Alright, alright. I’ll stop. But, really, you don’t have to be weird about me and her. She’s your girl, and I wouldn’t mess with that."

Natasha sighs, finally relaxing just a little. "Yeah. Okay."

And just like that, the tension that had been lingering between them starts to fade. "But if you break her heart again, I will kick your ass."

"Please do," even Carol can see that Natasha is different this time, she truly mean it. Truly mean the love for you.

Meanwhile, you and Wanda are sitting at a cozy little café, sipping on warm drinks, completely relaxed... well, almost.

You tap your fingers against your cup, glancing toward the door like you might somehow see through it back to your apartment. Then, with a smirk, you say, "Five dollars on Carol annoying the hell out of Natasha."

Wanda doesn’t even hesitate. "Twenty dollars on that."

You laugh, shaking your head. "You’re that positive?"

Wanda sips her coffee, completely unbothered. "Oh, absolutely. I love Natasha, but she is terrible at hiding when something is bothering her. And Carol? She lives for that kind of thing."

You hum, considering. "Yeah, fair point. I just hope they don’t break anything in my apartment."

Wanda raises an eyebrow, her lips twitching. "I mean… you did lock them in together. That’s like throwing a match into a room full of gasoline."

You sigh dramatically. "Should we go check on them?"

Wanda shakes her head, stirring her coffee lazily. "Nope. If Natasha hasn’t texted for backup, it means they haven’t killed each other yet."

You purse your lips. "What if she’s too stubborn to ask for help?"

Wanda tilts her head, considering. "Good point… but also, we should let her suffer a little."

You chuckle, clinking your cup against hers. "Agreed."

You swirl your coffee absently, watching Wanda as she takes another slow sip of hers. The curiosity that’s been lingering in the back of your mind finally pushes itself forward.

"Wan?" you ask, tilting your head slightly.

She hums in response, lifting her gaze to meet yours. "Hm?"

You hesitate for a second before deciding to just ask. "Can I ask you something?"

A small smirk tugs at the corner of her lips. "That depends. Am I going to regret saying yes?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "No, it’s just… I was wondering." You pause, biting your lip. "How come you’re not jealous?"

She blinks at you, clearly not expecting that question. "Jealous?"

You nod, leaning forward slightly. "Yeah, I mean… with all this Carol and Natasha tension, you seem so chill about it. Like, I get that Natasha is over Carol, and Carol is over Natasha, but still. Most people would be at least a little weirded out."

Wanda tilts her head, considering your words for a moment. Then she shrugs. "I don’t know. I guess I just don’t feel the need to be."

You raise an eyebrow. "Just like that?"

She chuckles, setting her coffee down. "I mean, it’s not like I’ve never been jealous before. But with this? No. I know how much Natasha is over Carol. And vice versa. There’s nothing there anymore."

You nod slowly, trying to understand. "So it just… doesn’t bother you?"

"Not really," Wanda says, tapping her nails lightly against her cup. "I know Natasha. I know how she looks at me or you. And I know how Nat looks at Carol, like someone from her past, not someone she wants in her future." She offers you a small smile. "So, no. I don’t feel jealous. If anything, I think they just needed to talk. Some closure, you know?"

You exhale, nodding in agreement, "yeah, I get that."

By the time you and Wanda make it back to your apartment, the coffee has settled warm in your stomach, and the conversation from earlier still lingers in your mind. You weren’t sure what exactly you’d be walking into, but you had half-expected to return to a crime scene or at the very least, to Natasha pacing furiously while Carol grinned like she had just won a game.

Instead, when you unlock the door and step inside, you’re greeted by the sight of them… laughing.

Natasha is leaning back against the couch, her usual tension nowhere to be found, while Carol sits comfortably across from her, her arms lazily draped over the back of the chair. They’re mid-conversation, something light and easy, and whatever weight had existed between them before... it’s gone.

What?

You blink. Wanda does too.

"Huh," you say, exchanging a glance with Wanda. "Didn’t see that coming."

Carol looks up first, smirking as she gestures between herself and Natasha. "See? We didn’t kill each other."

"Shocking," Wanda quips, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

Natasha just rolls her eyes, but there’s a small smile on her lips as she looks at you. "You’re back early."

You snort, setting your keys down. "I figured we’d return to a mess, so we made it quick."

Carol grins. "Sorry to disappoint."

Wanda tilts her head, studying them. "So… you two are good?"

Natasha exhales, glancing at Carol, who shrugs like she already knew the answer. "Yeah," Natasha admits, and there’s something softer in her voice. "We’re good."

You watch as Carol nods in agreement, her teasing edge dialed down just a bit. "Told you."

Wanda leans into you, her voice warm. "Closure," she murmurs, and you smile, realizing that yeah this is exactly that.

You barely have time to settle in before Natasha turns her sharp gaze on you, arms crossed but a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Darling," she drawls, her voice deceptively sweet, "why didn’t you tell me Carol was in a relationship?"

Before you can answer, Wanda perks up beside you, her expression bright. "Ooooh! Congrats, Carol!"

Carol grins, clearly enjoying the moment. "Thanks."

You shrug, feigning innocence as you smile at Natasha. "Dunno… it was fun." Then, with a slow smirk, you add, "And you looked hot while being jealous, so."

Carol lets out a loud laugh, standing up and stretching like she’s been waiting for her perfect exit line. "Oop! My cue to leave." She winks at you. "Thanks for the fun closure, (Y/N). You guys enjoy the rest of what’s probably going to be a long night." She wiggles her fingers in a wave. "Byee."

With that, she strides toward the door, leaving behind nothing but an amused chuckle from Wanda and a very unimpressed Natasha.

You barely have a second to process Carol’s dramatic exit before Natasha raises an eyebrow at you, tilting her head in that way that makes your breath hitch. "Come here," she says, low and inviting.

Yeah Carol was absolutely right. This is going to be a long night.

Natasha pulls you on her lap, closing the distance with a slow, predatory grace that has your breath catching in your throat. Her hands find your waist, fingers pressing just enough to remind you who’s in charge here.

"You had fun teasing me, huh?" Natasha murmurs, tilting her head as she watches you with those sharp green eyes. "Keeping little secrets, making me jealous?"

Wanda hums from the couch, "oh, she really did," she smirks as she leans back, eyes flicking between you and Natasha with lazy amusement. "And now you have to deal with the consequences."

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out, especially when Natasha tugs you just a bit closer, her breath ghosting over your lips.

"I should remind you," Natasha whispers, her grip tightening slightly, "who you belong to."

Your stomach flips, heat creeping up your spine at the low possessiveness in her tone.

Wanda lets out a quiet laugh, stretching her arms above her head as if this isn’t affecting her at all. "Good luck, detka," she drawls, sounding entirely too pleased with herself.

You barely have time to glare at her before Natasha tilts your chin up with two fingers, her smirk deepening. "Let’s see if teasing me was worth it, hmm?"

Your breath catches as Natasha’s fingers trail along your jaw, her smirk never wavering. "What’s wrong, princess? No more teasing now?"

You try to say something... anything, but the way she’s looking at you, the way her body presses just slightly into yours, makes it incredibly difficult to think.

Mind is completly empty.

Wanda chuckles from her place on the couch, her amusement evident. "She was so bold earlier," she muses, shifting so she’s resting her chin in her palm, watching the two of you like this is the best form of entertainment. "Now look at her."

Natasha hums in agreement, her other hand slipping down to your hip, squeezing lightly. "Mm, I think she just likes pushing her luck," she murmurs, tilting her head. "Maybe she likes seeing what she can get away with."

You swallow, heat pooling in your panties. "I- "

"Shhh," Natasha cuts you off, leaning in just enough that your noses brush. "You had your fun, baby. Now it’s our turn."

Before you can even react, Wanda is suddenly behind you, her arms slipping around your waist, her breath warm against your ear. "I say we teach her a lesson," she says playfully, voice like velvet, her fingers grazing over you teasingly.

You barely stifle a gasp, your entire body tensing between them. "A lesson?" you manage to ask, your voice coming out weaker than you’d like.

Wanda hums, pressing the faintest of kisses just below your ear, her lips curving into a smirk. "Mhm. One that reminds her who she belongs to."

Natasha’s hand slides up your side, her fingers teasing along the fabric of your shirt, her smirk deepening. "What do you think, detka?" she murmurs, her voice all honeyed dominance. "Still enjoying your little game?"

You shiver, your knees almost buckling beneath you. "I- "

"Careful now," Wanda murmurs, "wouldn’t want you to get too overwhelmed too quickly."

Natasha chuckles darkly, her lips barely ghosting over yours. "Oh, I don’t know," she muses, her voice filled with pure teasing. "I think she likes being overwhelmed."

Wanda laughs softly. "Oh, she definitely does."

Wanda's lips trail lazily down your neck, her fingers tracing slow, agonizing patterns over your sides. Natasha, meanwhile, stays just close enough to be torturous, her smirk deep as she watches you squirm between them.

Natasha hums, her fingers barely ghosting over your arm. "Mhm. A little too much, I think." She tilts her head, feigning contemplation.

Your breath hitches, your hands instinctively grabbing at Natasha’s waist, trying to pull yourself closer. "Ah, ah. Naughty girls don’t get rewarded so easily," she chides, smirk deepening.

Wanda giggles against your neck. "Poor thing," she coos, mock sympathy lacing her tone. "Look at her."

You whimper, your body betraying you as more heat pools between your thighs. "No, no, please," you gasp out, tilting your head toward Natasha, trying to chase more.

Natasha chuckles, dark and pleased. "Oh, detka," she murmurs, her fingers finally dragging up your arm, agonizingly slow. "I haven’t even done anything yet, and you’re already this desperate." She glances at Wanda, her smirk turning absolutely wicked. "That’s the real fun."

Wanda sighs theatrically, as if considering something. "Maybe we should just leave her like this," she muses.

You shake your head quickly. "No, please, I- "

Natasha leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she murmurs, "Begging already? Tsk. You really do love being at our mercy, don’t you?"

Your entire body shudders, and Wanda laughs softly, pressing a teasing kiss just beneath your jaw. "She’s adorable when she’s like this," she whispers, her fingers still tracing teasing, feather-light touches against your skin.

Natasha chuckles, her fingers finally gripping your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to meet her gaze. "Then let’s see just how much she can take."

And with the way their eyes darken, you know you're in for a long, torturous night.

"No cumming until we say, got it?" You nod at Natasha´s words, but that´s not enough for neither of them, so you feel nails dig into your hips.

"Yes!" you squal, and shake your head, "no cumming without your permission." You´re too desperate to notice the subtle exchange between Wanda and Natasha.

"Good. Girl." Natasha whispers into your ear.

Before you can fully process the heat ruining your panties, Natasha's hands slide down to your thighs, gripping firmly as she stands, effortlessly lifting you into her arms. A surprised gasp escapes you, and you instinctively cling to her shoulders, but she only smirks, her grip tightening.

"You’re coming with me," she murmurs, starting toward your bedroom with determined steps.

Behind you, Wanda chuckles, the sound low and knowing. "I’ll get it," she says vaguely, but before you can even think to ask what it is, Natasha is already pushing your bedroom door open and stepping inside.

The moment your back meets the mattress, Natasha is on you, caging you in with her presence, her hands bracketing your wrists against the sheets. Your breath hitches, your mind briefly scrambling to remember where Wanda went, what she was supposed to bring, but the thought disappears as quickly as it came.

Because Natasha is looking at you like she owns you. Like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

And with the way her knee presses between your thighs, pinning you down completely, all you can think about is her. And the need between your thighs.

Natasha’s lips trail down your jaw, slow and deliberate, her breath hot against your skin. She’s taking her time, making sure you’re completely occupied, lost in the way she presses against you, the way her fingers ghost over your sides, just barely enough to make you squirm.

"Look at you," she murmurs, dragging her lips along your pulse point before nipping at your skin, making you gasp.

You barely register the sound of the door opening again, too caught up in the way Natasha’s weight pins you down. But then-

"Miss me?" Wanda's voice is a sweet contrast to the wicked amusement in her tone.

You tilt your head, your eyes flicking toward her, but the moment you see what she’s holding, your stomach twists with anticipation.

Silky restraints.

Your breath catches. You hadn’t even realized Natasha had been keeping you distracted for a reason.

"Oh, she definitely missed you," Natasha smirks, shifting just enough for Wanda to crawl onto the bed and giving her space. "Didn’t even notice you were gone."

"How cute," Wanda mocks, straddling your hips, her fingers tracing along your arms as she guides them above your head.

You shudder at her touch, your pulse quickening. "Wanda- "

"Shhh, detka," she soothes, securing the restraints around your wrists, tightening them just enough to make you feel it. "It’s just a little something to keep you in place. We both know how much you love that."

Natasha hums in agreement, "and since you’ve been so naughty tonight…" She smirks, dragging her nails down your throat. "You don’t get to have everything you want."

You whimper, tugging lightly against the restraints, but Wanda only grins, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple.

"Good luck," she purrs. "You’re going to need it."

You tug lightly against the restraints again, testing them, but they hold firm. Your breath is uneven, your skin buzzing with anticipation, but there’s also confusion swirling in your mind.

"But how did- "

Natasha cuts you off with a smirk, brushing her fingers along your jaw. "One thing about us that I thought you already knew," she murmurs, her voice smooth and taunting, "is that we always come prepared."

Of course they do.

Wanda hums in agreement, her fingers dancing over your stomach, barely touching, just enough to make you shiver. "It’s adorable that you still think you have the upper hand sometimes."

You whine, tilting your head back against the pillow. "That’s not- "

"Shhh, princess," Natasha coos, trailing a finger down your throat before pressing a teasing kiss to your collarbone.

Your hips shift instinctively, but Wanda tuts, her fingers gripping your waist. "Patience, detka," she chides, her voice dripping with amusement. "We won’t let you have it. Not yet."

A whimper escapes your lips, your wrists straining against the restraints as your body burns with the need for more.

"Aww," Wanda coos, shifting to sit beside you, her hand coming up to brush some stray strands of hair from your face. Her touch is feather-light, her voice deceptively sweet. "Poor thing. All tied up with nowhere to go."

You glare at her half-heartedly, but the smug little smile on her lips tells you she’s thoroughly enjoying this. "You´re being mean!"

"Mean?" Wanda gasps, pressing a dramatic hand to her chest. "I would never." Then, she leans in, voice dropping to a soft murmur near your ear. "I’m just here to make sure you don’t fall apart too soon."

Your breath catches, and you’re about to say something, maybe throw a challenge her way, when Natasha hums lowly.

"Don’t push it, Wan," she warns, a sharp but amused edge to her tone.

Wanda straightens instantly, her teasing demeanor shifting just a fraction. She glances at you, then back at Natasha, reading the shift in dynamic immediately.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Wanda muses, but there's something else in her tone now a touch of playful deference, a careful step backward. She’s testing her own limits, but she knows better than to cross the line.

You, on the other hand, are left somewhere between frustration and anticipation, entirely at their mercy.

"How about you keep your mouth occupied, hm?" Natasha´s hand slightly tug on Wanda´s hair and even in your state you can notice the shift in her eyes.

"Mhmm," Wanda mumbles as she shift closer to you and her hands start to take off your pants.

"Just because (Y/N) is getting punished doesn´t mean I can´t punish you as well, Maximoff." Natasha glares at Wanda.

Oh boy, this is making you so worked on.

Fuck.

Wanda nods, "I´m sorry," she hopes that this is enough, since she´s as desperate as you are.

Natasha hums and with a nod Wanda starts to take off your pants, but before she can take off your panties as well the redhead speaks up again. "Keep her panties on, I want them messy."

Wanda nods and even though she sees the vision, she wanted to devour you without any distractions.

Oh my god, they will be the cause of your death.

Even in the state Wanda was in, she will never ever forget to be a gentleman, so she softly and gently kisses her way into your panties, which makes Natasha chuckle.

You immedietly open your legs, needing her to touch you in the right spot. You´re lucky Wanda is as needy as you, because she doesn´t waste any more time and she pulls your wet panties to the side, making herself occupied with your warm pussy.

Natasha is so pleased about what she´s seeing, so she leaves Wanda to do whatever she wants... for now. You can feel her tongue on your clit, she´s eating you out like you´re her last and only meal.

For fuck sake her tongue is so so so fucking great.

What seems like a seconds to both you and Wanda, Natasha has been staring at the two of you for almost ten minutes, before she finally steps in.

"How about you left something to me, hm?" But Wanda doesn´t respond to Natasha´s words, she keeps going, licking every single of your wetness, which is not so amazing idea.

Natasha’s eyes darken, her jaw tightening as she watches Wanda blatantly disobey her. The room feels warmer, charged with something electric, and even in your dazed state, you can sense the shift.

"Wanda," Natasha’s voice is low, controlled, but there’s an edge to it. A warning. "I said, pull away."

But Wanda, ever the tease, only lifts her gaze slightly, a playful glint in her eyes. She doesn’t move, her lips curling into something dangerously close to defiance. "I heard you," she murmurs, but she still doesn’t obey and goes back to tasting you.

And you, of course, doesn´t mind at all.

Natasha exhales through her nose, tilting her head as if assessing her. Then, without breaking eye contact, she reaches forward, fingers grabing Wanda’s hair, just enough to make her listen.

"You’re pushing it," Natasha murmurs, tugging on her hair more, not rough, but firm enough to make a point.

Wanda shivers, and for the first time, the playful confidence flickers just slightly. She swallows, but still smirks. "Maybe I like pushing."

Natasha’s lips twitch, like she’s amused despite herself, but she doesn’t let it show. "So now I have two brats, hm?" she counters, leaning in so close that Wanda’s breath hitches. "Pull away or I´ll spank your ass so bad you won´t be able to sit through your nail appointment."

There’s a beat of silence, thick with tension, before Wanda finally exhales and pulls back. "Understood," she says, voice softer now.

"Good girl," Natasha murmurs, releasing Wanda’s hair.

You’re watching them, caught somewhere between fascination and pure awe, and when Natasha finally shifts her attention back to you, that cocky smirk is fully back in place.

"Now," she purrs, her gaze sweeping over you. "Where were we?"

You hesitate for a moment, thinking Natasha’s words were more of a statement than a question. But when the silence lingers, and her expectant gaze remains on you, you realize that she wants an answer.

"I- uh... Wanda was- you know and um..." You stumble over your words, heat creeping up your neck as you shift slightly under Natasha’s sharp, assessing gaze.

Her lips twitch in amusement. "Would you like to continue that?"

You nod so fast it’s almost embarrassing. "Very much so, yes please."

Natasha hums, dragging her fingers along your jaw before turning her attention to Wanda. "Wanda, entertain yourself." A smirk curves her lips. "But no finishing."

Wanda lets out a small, exaggerated sigh but doesn’t argue, instead tilting her head with that signature glint of mischief in her eyes as her hand make its way to her pants.

Natasha’s gaze flicks between the two of you, her expression unwavering as she leans in slightly. "Just because there are two of you doesn’t mean I won’t have control. Noted?"

"Yes," you and Wanda answer at the exact same time.

Natasha chuckles, shaking her head. "Good girls." She knows that both of you need to be punished, but it´s funnier to punish both of you while you´re both needy and completly at her mercy. So she´s leading the two of you exactly where she wants you to be.

"Please-" you let out softly, you need her. Her hands. Her mouth. Her tongue. Her anything and everything.

"Oh detka, look at you." She cooes, "poor thing, don´t worry, I will handle this-" Natasha´s hand meets your pussy with a quick smack that makes you flinch. "I will take care of this wet pussy," her eyes are dark, full of lust and you´re not sure if you´re supposed to be excited or scared.

Wanda on the other hand is already close to cum, she´s fighting so hard not to let go. Not to break the rules just one more time for her sweet release. But she knows what would have happen, she needs to hold on.

While Natasha´s fingers spread you open, she doesn´t miss the sounds Wanda is making, "stop if necessary, but don´t you dare to cum, Maximoff." Her words are sharp, that it makes your heart beat even faster.

"Uhm," the younger woman mumbles, as she stops fucking her fingers inside.

You quickly glance at Wanda, "eyes on me," Natasha leans in and grabs your chin, "there you go." She lets go of your chin and goes back to your dripping core. Fuck you´re messy. "Hips up, baby."

You shift and move your hips up as you watch Natasha pulls off your wet panties. Slowly and hungrily, you notice that Natasha puts your dirty black panties to her pocket, but your mind is occupied quickly, since Natasha is back to where you need her the most. Kissing your thighs softly, as she is also a gentle lady.

"Natty-" you whine out, so needy for anything the woman will give you. Your pretty noises makes Wanda moan out loud, you try your hardest not to look at her, so you can only imagine her long fingers deep inside her. Pumping in and out, while her juices are all over her.

"God, where did your patience go? Hm? Fine." And with that Natasha´s fingers slide into so easily. And she is not gentle, no... it´s the other way around.

Oh fuck.

She´s pumping her fingers fast and the only thought in your head is overstimulation. You´re so hapy, but at the same time you know that she will make you pay for everything you did and didn´t do.

Your mind is a blur, caught somewhere between pleasure and overwhelming sensation, every nerve alight as you struggle to ground yourself. But there’s no escape, not from the way Natasha is watching you, her sharp green eyes locked onto your every reaction, nor from the way Wanda is nearby, she´s also on the line between letting go and being Natasha´s good girl.

Natasha’s presence is suffocating in the best way, her touch deliberate, her movements calculated, her fingers curling in the right spot, and yet it’s the little things that overwhelm you just as much - the faint scent of her cologne, a mix of something deep and smoky with a hint of spice, clinging to her skin as she leans in close. The warmth of her breath against your temple, the quiet, knowing hum she lets out whenever you clench around her.

You don’t even realize you’re whimpering out loud until you hear Wanda needy chuckle, low and sweet. "Fuck-", tilting her head as if she’s committing every detail of this moment to memory.

You look at her weakly, unable to form proper words, and Natasha exhales a small, pleased laugh. "Oh, detka," she murmurs, voice smooth as silk yet carrying a weight that makes your stomach flip. "This is just warm up."

Your mind struggles to keep up, but then... her voice, smooth as velvet, cuts through the fog.

"Alright, my sweet little messes," Natasha purrs, her tone dripping with amusement. "You want to reach the finish line? Then you better earn it. Cum or don´t, but it will be your loss."

You barely process her words before she continues, her voice slow, teasing. "Ten."

Wanda stiffens, a flicker of confusion crossing her face, but Natasha doesn’t give either of you a moment to think.

"Nine."

Your body tenses, a desperate little whimper escaping before you can stop it. Wanda’s fingers twitch, like she’s already bracing herself, already feeling the weight of whatever Natasha has planned.

"Oh, you poor things," Natasha coos, eyes gleaming with mischief as her fingers speed up in your hole. "So desperate. So needy. And yet… so very helpless."

Your breath stutters, and Wanda swallows hard, her lips parting like she wants to protest, but Natasha just smirks.

"Eight," she continues, tilting her head as she drags out the word. "You still with me, detka? Or is the pretty little head too fogged up to keep count? I know Wanda is already gone."

Wanda glares at her, but there’s no real heat behind it, just frustration laced with anticipation. You, on the other hand, can barely function, and Natasha knows it. She clicks her tongue, mock pity dripping from her voice.

"Seven."

She watches you both like a cat playing with its food, eyes alight with something dangerous, something utterly intoxicating. "I should make you beg, really. Should make you tell me just how much you need me. But look at you- " she sighs, shaking her head with a grin. "You’re already wrecked, and I’ve barely even done anything."

Anything?! She´s fucking me with her-

You moan loudly as Natasha thrust her finger deep inside of you, and Wanda sucks in a sharp breath, shifting slightly like she wants to reach for you, but Natasha tuts, eyes flashing.

"Ah, ah, ah. No helping each other. If you want it, you’ll listen."

She leans in closer, her scent overwhelming, her voice dipping lower. "Six."

Wanda stays in her spot, staring at Natasha´s fingers disappearing inside of your pussy. As she copies Natasha´s pace.

"Five."

The number drips from Natasha’s lips like honey, slow and drawn out, as if she’s savoring every second of your anticipation. You’re barely holding on, body taut, brain fogged with nothing but her voice, her presence, her control. Your hands are hurting form how much you´re holding onto the silky restraints.

Wanda´s fingers twitching, thighs pressing together. She looks like she wants to do something, to rebel in some way, but Natasha just chuckles, shaking her head in mock disappointment.

"Poor baby," she murmurs, tilting her head "You don’t like waiting, do you?"

Wanda’s breath hitches, her lips parting, but no words come out. You feel like you’re in the same state... floating somewhere between desperation and the overwhelming feeling.

"Four."

A needy little whimper escaping before you can stop it. Natasha’s eyes snap to you instantly, dark amusement flickering across her features.

"Oh, detka," she purrs, leaning in closer, "you sound so pretty when you're falling apart for me."

You’re not even sure if you’re breathing anymore.

"Three."

She drags out the word, watching you and Wanda with the kind of confidence that makes your stomach flip.

"So cute," she muses, "all wide-eyed and obedient now. Not so mouthy anymore, huh?"

Neither of you dare to speak, but Wanda exhales shakily, her eyes darting to yours as if she’s searching for something. Reassurance, maybe. But before either of you can process it, Natasha’s voice slices through the haze again.

"Two."

Your pulse pounds. Wanda clench around herself, she needs to cum now. She needs it so fucking bad.

And then... Natasha leans in, brushing her lips against your ear, her voice nothing more than a whisper, but somehow more commanding than anything before. Her fingers are still at very fast pace, but she laso starts to thrust with more power now.

"One."

Your entire body is on edge, anticipation coiling tight in your stomach, but Natasha pulls back, just far enough to look between you and Wanda, smirking at your ruined expressions.

And then- "Zero."

She doesn’t give either of you time to think, her fingers leaving your pusssy and she immedietly leans to Wanda and she grabs her hand, snatching it away.

What?

The release, the rush, the moment you’ve been so desperately chasing.

But nothing happens.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you blink up at her, mind scrambling, body still wound impossibly tight. Beside you, Wanda lets out a broken sound, shifting in frustration, realization settling over both of you at the same time.

She... she bluffed.

Your chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths, and when you finally meet Natasha’s gaze, she’s just smiling. Smug, entertained, completely unbothered by the absolute wreckage she’s left in her wake.

"Oh, you should see your faces." She tilts her head, lips curling into a slow, satisfied smirk. "Absolutely priceless."

Wanda makes a frustrated noise, fingers curling into the sheets as she glares at Natasha. "That’s not fair."

You nod quickly, still struggling to find words. "Yeah! You- you can’t just- " You gesture vaguely, still feeling dizzy with need. "You said zero!"

Natasha just arches a perfect brow. "And? Since when did I say I had to let you finish?"

Your jaw drops.

Wanda’s brows furrow in pure, petulant frustration. "That’s cruel."

Natasha shrugs, clearly thriving in your combined suffering, she licks her fingers clean, loving the taste you left on her fingers. "You being a brat is cruel too." She leans in closer, eyes glinting with amusement. "Do I complain? No. I just make a payback."

You groan, shifting against the pillows, moving your hands in the restraints. Wanda crosses her arms, lips pressed into a thin line, but there’s no real anger there, just deep frustration.

"You’re evil." You pout up at Natasha, hoping - praying - that maybe, just maybe, she’ll take mercy on you.

She just chuckles, brushing her fingers over your jaw, a featherlight touch that makes your stomach flip. "Oh, detka," she murmurs, voice nothing but smooth, unshakable confidence. "You love it."

Wanda huffs, but Natasha just shifts her gaze toward her, amusement still dancing in her eyes. "And you," she muses, tapping a finger against Wanda’s chin. "Did you really think you could be a fucking brat and get away with it?"

Wanda swallows, "I´m sorry."

Natasha hums, her smirk widening. "Yeah. That’s what I thought."

You both groan in unison, completely at her mercy, and Natasha just thrives in it, dragging out the moment, letting the weight of her control settle in.

You don’t care anymore.

Maybe you should care, maybe you should hold onto the last shreds of your dignity, try to look like you’re not completely at Natasha’s mercy. But who cares? Not when your body is still thrumming, still aching with need. Not when Wanda is right there beside you, looking just as desperate, just as undone.

So you do the only thing you can think of.

You shift, trying to reaching for Natasha, even when your hands are still above your head, "Natasha, please," you murmur, voice soft, breathless. "I- please, don’t do this."

Natasha tilts her head, watching you with amusement, fingers trailing down your stomach with a featherlight touch that makes you shiver. "Don’t do what exactly?"

You whimper, frustration bubbling in your throat, but you don’t stop. Instead, you shift again, "I’ll do anything- just please- "

Natasha hums, clearly enjoying herself. "Anything?"

You nod, desperate, but then, then you hesitate. Because it’s not just about you, is it?

Your eyes flick toward Wanda, who’s been quiet, biting her lip, still wound tight with anticipation and frustration. And without thinking, without stopping to consider how needy it might sound, you turn back to Natasha and say, "Not just me. Please- please don’t leave Wanda like this either."

That does something.

Wanda’s head snaps toward you, eyes widening in surprise, a soft gasp leaving her lips. She wasn’t expecting that. She wasn’t expecting you to beg for her too.

And Natasha? Natasha’s amusement shifts into something else entirely. She watches you for a long moment, considering, clearly pleased by the way you’re falling apart for her, the way you’re still thinking of Wanda even when you’re this desperate.

Then, slowly, she smirks.

"What if I only let Wanda finish, hm?"

You freeze, eyes darting between them, heartbeat hammering. But then, after a moment, you swallow your pride and turn to Wanda, eyes searching hers, voice soft. "Okay. Fine. But- " You take a breath, looking back at Natasha, pleading. "Please. She didn’t mean to be a brat, she just- you know…"

Wanda stares at you, eyes flickering with something unreadable, something warm and surprised.

Natasha hums, her fingers tracing lazy patterns along your skin, her sharp green eyes flicking between you and Wanda. She looks amused, intrigued, entirely entertained by your desperation.

"You would let Wanda finish but not you?" she asks, tilting her head slightly.

You swallow hard, nodding without hesitation. "Yeah."

Wanda’s breath catches beside you.

And Natasha grins. "Look, darling," she purrs, turning her attention to Wanda, her fingers tilting your chin up so you can’t look away. "Look how precious she is toward you."

Wanda doesn’t respond right away, still staring at you like she can’t quite believe what just happened. There’s something unreadable in her gaze, something warm, something fond.

Natasha’s smirk softens just a little not enough to lose her edge, but enough to make your stomach flip. She brushes her knuckles against your cheek, her touch deceptively gentle.

"You’re so kind, baby," she murmurs, amusement laced in her voice, but there’s something deeper there too. Something indulgent.

Wanda exhales, still watching you with that unreadable look, and Natasha hums as if thinking it over.

Then, she nods.

"Well," she drawls, her thumb ghosting over your bottom lip, "being kind and such a good girl... that does deserve a reward, doesn’t it?"

Her grin sharpens, and you feel Wanda shift closer to you, anticipation crackling in the air.

“Go on then, make yourself cum." And with that Natasha just gives you and Wanda kiss a soft one, which suprises the both of you. Her hands falls on Wanda waist as she moves her closer to you.

Wanda just looks at Natasha, "it´s up to us?" And to that, the older woman just nods. Without missing a beat Wanda takes her pants and panties off, throwing it somewhere in the room. "Just lay pretty for me," she mumbles as you can´t really escape anywhere since you´re still tied to the bed. Wanda chuckles at that as she realizes, "sorry, baby."

She immedietly positions herself in between your legs, starts to move her hips and rub her pussy against yours. Wanda is very soft and gentle,  it's just the right amount of pressure and intimacy to feel amazing and ease your neediness. And since both of you are so wet, it´s very easy to move your hips. But Wanda´s nails digs into your thigh, "I said don´t move," she mumbles.

You listen, there is no way you´re risking another punishment, you moan out loud, which makes Natasha very proud, maybe you´re not so bratty after all.

Wanda moves her hips faster, she´s so close and so are you. Of course the redhead notices that, so her hands rubs Wanda´s back and she whispers, "you can let go, you did so good." Then her green eyes meets yours, "go on baby, cum for me."

And you did. No need to be told twice.

Oh those sounds, Natasha is a little sad she didn´t record this, hearing the both of her girls needy like this, letting go for her. But that´s a thing for some other time.

She helps to move Wanda back to the bed, laying her next to you, then she softly unwrap your hands from the restraints. You sigh contentedly, your body warm and pleasantly exhausted, but as Natasha starts to move away, you instinctively reach out, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her back to you and Wanda.

Natasha huffs out a surprised laugh, her body colliding with yours. "Oh my god, how come you´re so strong," she teases, but she doesn’t resist. Instead, she settles in, draping herself over you with a smirk. "Okay, okay, cuddles it is."

Wanda chuckles softly from the other side of you, tucking herself against your shoulder. "You’re insatiable, detka," she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw.

You hum in satisfaction, basking in the warmth of both of them. Natasha’s fingers trace lazy patterns along your arm, while Wanda strokes a hand through your hair, her touch gentle and soothing. It’s quiet for a moment, just the sound of steady breathing and the occasional sleepy sigh filling the space.

Then, unexpectedly, Natasha presses a kiss to your temple and murmurs, "Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back."

You grumble in protest, tightening your grip, but she chuckles, prying herself free. "Just trust me, sweetheart."

Wanda shifts, watching Natasha with knowing amusement as she disappears into the bathroom. A moment later, you hear the sound of water running.

You blink up at Wanda. "What is she doing?"

Wanda smiles, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Something that means more than she’ll ever admit."

A few minutes later, Natasha returns, rolling her eyes at your confused expression. "Come on," she says, reaching for your hand. "Bath’s ready."

You hesitate, glancing toward Wanda, but she just grins, her eyes soft with understanding.

As they settle into the aftercare routine, Natasha is quiet but efficient. She doesn’t just clean you up, she draws a bath, making sure the temperature is perfect, adding something relaxing like lavender essential oil she found out in your bathroom. The steam fills the air, carrying the soft floral scent, and she tests the water with her fingers before turning to you.

"Come on, sweetheart," she murmurs, her voice softer now. She helps you in, her hands steady as she guides you down into the warmth. The heat soaks into your muscles, easing every lingering ache, and you sigh, melting into it.

But then, Natasha does something unexpected. Instead of just handing you a washcloth and letting you clean up, she rolls up the sleeves of one of her shirts and kneels by the edge of the tub. She picks up a soft cloth, dips it in the water, and starts to wash you herself. Slow, careful strokes over your arms, shoulders, and back.

At first, you don’t think much of it, just letting yourself be taken care of. But Wanda comes, sitting on the closed toilet lid, notices immediately. She watches the way Natasha moves, the usual precision of her hands softened into something far more intimate.

A slow smile spreads across Wanda’s lips, but she doesn’t say anything just yet.

Natasha doesn’t rush. She takes her time, running the warm cloth over your skin with a tenderness that feels almost out of place for her. But she doesn’t hesitate, it´s like this is as natural as breathing.

Then, when she runs the cloth over your wrists, where the restraints had been, she pauses for just a second. Her thumb brushes over the faint marks left behind, and she murmurs, almost to herself, "Don’t want you hurting."

It’s quiet. Simple. But something about it makes Wanda’s gaze soften even more.

Because she knows.

This isn’t just Natasha taking care of you, it’s her way of saying I love you.

And Wanda, recognizing the moment for what it is, "softie."

Natasha rolls her eyes but doesn’t deny it. Instead, she just smirks, flicking a little water in Wanda’s direction before turning her attention back to you.

You giggle, then you look back at Natasha, "but what about you-" she doesn´t even let you finnish.

"Just shut up and let me take care of you," she mutters, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead.

And you do. Because, for once, you don’t need to do anything but let yourself be loved.

Wanda can´t help but giggle again, which makes Natasha raise her eyebrow, "I don´t like when you two team up, so get your ass in here as well." She orders to Wanda and she takes off her shirt and joins your bath.

As the night winds down, you’re curled up between Natasha and Wanda, warm and drowsy under the covers of your bed. Natasha’s fingers trace lazy patterns on your arm, while Wanda presses soft kisses to your shoulder. The comfort of it all makes your eyelids heavy, the steady rhythm of their breathing lulling you toward sleep.

Then, your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

With a tired groan, you reach for it, blinking at the brightness of the screen. A new message from Carol.

Carol: You’re welcome for getting laid. 😉

You snort, biting your lip to stifle a laugh. Wanda shifts beside you, murmuring sleepily, "What’s so funny?"

Still grinning, you tilt the screen so they both can see. Natasha huffs, shaking her head. "I swear to God…"

Wanda just laughs, pressing her face against your shoulder. "She’s not wrong, though."

You hum, setting your phone aside and settling back into the warmth of their embrace. "Yeah, yeah. Maybe I should send her a thank-you gift."

Natasha groans, dragging you closer. "Absolutely not."

Wanda smirks. "I dunno, Nat. I think it’s only fair."

"Don’t encourage her."

You giggle, pressing a kiss to Natasha’s jaw, then Wanda’s lips, before closing your eyes with a satisfied sigh. "Fine. No thank-you gift. Just… remind me to buy her a drink next time."

Wanda hums, already half-asleep. Natasha mutters something in Russian under her breath, but you catch the way she tightens her hold around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

And as the three of you drift off, tangled together in the soft glow of the night, you think, yeah, maybe I do owe Carol a drink.

In the end... third time is truly a charm. Wow. It´s the end you guys:( thank you so much for reading this series it was so fun to write, thank you thank you! it so amazing to read your comments, im kicking my feet like a little girl at every single one<3 i hope you will like some of my future projects as well!

taglist:@arualdcg, @beholdagaywriter, @snowdrop1026, @itsdoni, @newawakening9​, @aliherreraaa, @zzswiftyzz, @lesbiantothemoonandback, @maggieromanov @milflovers4

[alwritey-aphrodite]

hii ! can i request this prompt « my ex doesn't understand it's over, so I tell them I've already got someone new » with sirius or remus ? tysmmm

I went with Sirius, I hope you enjoy!!

Sirius is sitting at the table, peeling an orange and methodically removing any of the “stringy bits”, as you call them, so you won’t have to go back and do it yourself and ruin your freshly painted nails, courtesy of days and days of bugging on Sirius’ end. You’re washing dishes, and clearing your throat over and over like you have something to say.

“Just spit it out already,” Sirius gripes, still cleaning off the orange, after you clear your throat only to stay silent for what feels like the millionth time.

“I have a favor to ask,” you say, somewhat uncomfortably, drying your hands on the dish towel before turning to face him, leaning your hip against the counter as if you need the support.

“Shoot,” he replies, not bothering to look up at you for more than a glance, determined to get the orange spotless.

“It’s kinda a lot,” you cross your arms around your middle, and from your tone Sirius knows you’re practically crawling in your skin, so he finally puts down the orange and gives you his full attention.

“I’d do anything for you, you know that.” He tells you, voice dripping in sincerity, and his heart practically glows when you smile at him in response, a soft, shy thing as if he hasn’t seen you dancing on tables and stumbling home and lounging around in your rattiest, comfiest pajamas for a junk food and movie marathon. Sirius is your best friend, and even though you know you can come to him with anything, the fact that he’s your best friend makes your favor slightly more than a little awkward.

“Can you take me out on a fake date on Friday?” You ask, jumping in without providing any sort of context so you don’t chicken out.

“Darling, I’d love to, but what the fuck does that mean?”

Pushing off the counter, you sigh, all big and dramatic as you make your way over to where Sirius is sitting at your kitchen table and throw yourself into the chair next to him.

“So, you know Henry, right?” Sirius’s nod is accompanied by a rather exaggerated eye roll, but you plow ahead anyway, “Well, I saw him when I went out for a walk yesterday, and it seemed like he didn’t really understand the fact that we’re broken up for real.”

“What do you mean?” Sirius asks, suddenly more alert than he was moments before.

“Nothing, really,” you attempt to quell his fears, knowing exactly where his mind went the second the words left your mouth, “just that he kept asking me to go out and do things together that seemed pretty couple-y, and he’s nice enough, but I broke up with him for a reason.”

Pausing in your story to take a breath, you see Sirius nodding along, but can tell he’s not really sure where the whole fake date situation comes into play. The fact that he’s even listening, even entertaining this bizarre idea of yours, makes your heart seize up, just a little, with affection and all sorts of things better left unmentioned and unnamed. 

“I just really wanted to let him down easily, so I said I couldn’t because I have a boyfriend, and he asked who and I could have made up a name but I was just thinking about you, because I had just bought the stuff for that salad you told me about, so I said you.” 

Unsure of what to say, Sirius just tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, and you plow on ahead.

“And I said we had plans on Friday and he asked where so I said that Italian place you like and apparently he works there.”

‘Well, I could have told you that,” Sirius says, his first contribution to the conversation since you started your little rant.

“I’ll buy you dinner and it doesn’t have to be anything too weird, we’ll just walk in holding hands and maybe a kiss on the cheek and we’ll just look like we’re in love if he happens to walk past us,” you’re practically pleading now, taking Sirius’ unusual silence for proof that this is one favor that’s too much, too awkward. 

“Please, I’m not that awful,” he slides the plate with the orange, now split in half, over to you, “I’ll pick you up at six and pay for your meal because I’m a gentleman.”

“Thank you, really, I owe you one,” you say, picking up your half of the orange as Sirius does the same.

“Hell yeah you do,” he responds, as if going out to dinner, out on a date, with you is some big chore he has to do, and not something he’s been thinking about for months now.

[starconstruction]

Birthday Bash

Yandere Karina x Male Reader

woohoo, first actual sfw fic.

Word Count:1572

The room was dark.

Too dark.

Like always.

You woke up, hands firmly locked against the pipe on the floor, body laying against the hard concrete floor save for a tiny sheet and a singular pillow. You couldn't see, sat in the void all alone.

You didn't know if you'd rather be alone or with her, your captor, the one who controlled you. Claiming grandiose delusions of love, trapping you in this room for your own safety.

Escaping was an impossibility like this, perhaps that's why she did it. Make you know it was hopeless, keep you in the worst conditions possible and they could never leave.

Bread and circus's only work for the masses after all.

The smell was just bad enough to be unable to block out, an ever lingering torment that wasnt going to cease.

Time was completely gone.

Your life was entirely gone.

A creaking door sounded out, gulping down saliva as she walked down the steps. The light was stinging, tears welled up in the crevices of your eyes.

She appeared in front of you, that familiar look. That fucking look. Her smile was curved, eyes soft and pointed. It was all a ruse. Her outfit was monochromatic, all black as it attempted to blend into the surroundings.

"Morning baby, what do you want for breakfast today?" She asked, voice soft. Full of sucrose and sickly. Her knees dropping down to face you.

"Nothing." You said, voice sharp.

Karina's hand grabbed your chin, harsh enough to send a warning. Her head tilted slightly aswell, eyes furrowing just a bit. The soap on her hand being the only pleasant scent in this entire room.

"Such a fighter, but I guess that's what made me fall in love with you." She said, taking a deep breath.

"But, I was hoping you'd break by now. So I could be showering you in gifts, love, affection. Why are you being so difficult Y/N?" The question made you think for a second, filling you with an anger that threatened to blow up and consume you whole.

"Difficult?! I'm the one that's difficult? You ruined my fucking life Karina, trapping me here. Pulling me from my job, my school and my family all because I rejected you?! Fucking psychopath! I will-" Her hand clamped down onto your face, the rest of the words falling on deaf ears as they fell away in a dying whisper.

"Ah, well. That quite hurts Y/N, I thought you'd see the positives of this by now. Anyways, happy birthday. Think about your actions and maybe we can celebrate, no breakfast for you." Before you could object she disappeared, leaving you alone.

In the dark.

With just your own thoughts.

Again.

Birthday? How long has it been? If only you remembered when she whisked you away. Then you could piece it together, the presence of the handcuff felt stronger now. Like a physical representation of all the time lost, you couldn't give in.

-

The ever clawing hunger was all that you could focus on, waiting for Karina's inevitable return. And you wouldn't have to wait long.

The light returned, the demon returned. She looked a bit happier now, a pop in her step as she stood in front of you.

"Wanna be better for me now? I have a day prepared for us, you can leave the basement for the first time in so long. You want that right?" Those words, god they sounded good. Too good.

You couldn't give in, it'd be an insult to everyone you lost.

"No. Go to hell Karina." You growled, she was lucky you were restrained. Or was she? You haven't been able to work out or lift a muscle in months, she'd absolutely win.

"Come on, it'd be so fun sweetie." She tried to reason with you.

"No." You replied quickly.

"Fucking hell. I just want to celebrate my boyfriends birthday, but you want to be difficult. Tell you what, you can stay here and be defiant. But trust me, you will regret it." The words sent a shiver down the back of your spine, the tone she said it in so sweet compared to the words.

"I'm not going to regret shit." You yelled back.

"Sure?" She tested you, crouched down right next to you. Inches away, gazing holes into your eyes. Each syllable thick with amusement.

"Sure." You spat back.

"Well, I guess I just gotta take a visit to your parents. Maybe with a knife?" The words made you shiver, heart pounding. She started to walk away.

"Wait!" You yelled out, she didn't stop moving.

"No! Karina come back!" She still didn't stop.

"Karina please I'll do anything! Just leave my family alone!" She stopped.

"Anything? So you'll come with me?" Her mood shifted at once, smile returning.

"Yes! Just.. Don't hurt them." You sighed, calming down slightly. The resentment you grew harsher, hatred going deeper.

"Awee! Thank you, wish I didn't have to threaten you. But I'm happy either way, let's get you showered and ready."

-

Karina forced you into her arms, perfume filling your nose. Sat on her couch, present in your hands. You shuddered at the prospect of opening it she was so unpredictable. Your escape was inches away, but somehow it felt unreachable.

The room was super decorated, multi-coloured balloons pressed against the roof. Red tinsel laid neatly wrapped across every surface, a pile of presents rested on the ground. It all felt like a cruel mockery, everything your friends would have done.

What were your friends doing? The thought crossed your mind countless times, did they miss you? That was the only thing keeping you sane.

"Open it, you'll really like it." Her hand rubbed your hair, raking through it with a soft obsession.

Your hands gripped onto the decorated paper, tearing it open as you revealed the gift. A TV remote? The device laid in your hands, a reminder of the world before.

"I was thinking, if you be nice. I'll let you have everything in the world, starting with this." She whispered into your ear.

You didn't know how to respond. The fear of your family's safety lingering on the forefront of your mind, but you aren't property to be owned.

"I, can't." You said quietly.

Her nails dug into your arms, warning you to be careful of your next words.

"Stop thinking of your friends, I hate how much of your head they take up! I'll get rid of them if I must." She was once again angry.

Her threats started to make you worried, she was completely insane.

The rest of the birthday was tense, but you survived just about.

-

Karina was asleep next to you, eyes closed softly. She gave you the "luxury" of sleeping in her bed instead of the basement, was this a test? Either way there was no time to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You slipped out of her bed, placing a pillow into her arms. Each step felt terrifying, quiet taps against the carpet. Taking deep breaths, composing yourself.

Escaping was imminent, your friends were going to be so excited to see you. Your mother is going to tear up, Karina wasn't going to have a vice on you anymore.

The thought made you smile.

Your heart pounded.

The bedroom door was open.

Karina was asleep.

You had to go, now.

Your mind raced as you took steps down the stairs, each one careful and calculated. Touching the floor. Three steps from the door, three steps from freedom.

Your hand reached the handle, there was several locks. Trying to figure them out, grabbing the key and twisting the first one.

Then the hatch lock, and finally a... Keypad? Uh oh.

"Honey? Get away from the door." She called, stepping down slowly.

Your heart pounded, this couldn't end like this.

Your hand fumbled with the keypad, you had to guess. Your birthday?

The terminal went green and the door unlocked. The sight filled you with primal dread, countless acres of trees in front of you. Only trees.

"Fuck." You muttered, taking off.

You ran, Karina was right behind you. Sounds of two footsteps could be heard throughout the night, echoing against every leaf that hung around you.

"HONEY! IF YOU TURN AROUND I WON'T HURT YOU!" She shouted, that had to be a lie.

Your breath started to quicken, muscles starting to burn, the months of solitude had taken any ounce of sportiness.

Karina tackled you, a loud thud rung out. Head banging into the mud with a painful yelp.

She was on top of you, knife pointed at your neck. A sadistic smile on her face that was illuminated by the moonlight.

"Got ya! Why would you try to run?" Her voice was unstable, shaky, insane.

You spoke slowly, scared stiff. "Get off me!"

"No no no, how about this. I bring you back, you play along. And we can pretend this didn't happen?" She was lying.

You spat on her.

"Oh, wrong choice." You had no time to react, knife plunging into your leg. The pain was agonizing, excruciating, you moaned out in agony.

"FUCK! CRAZY!" You screamed, she slapped you harshly.

"You are mine, forever Y/N." She grabbed your ankle, dragging your face against the mud. Scratching your face on loose rocks and twigs.

You passed out from the pain, she won this battle.

You were hers.

[societyfolklore]

Oh my God 😭 I loved This Is The Last Time!!!

Would you maybe write a second part to it, where they lose all the burdens holding them back and they are just happy together and realize that it was the best decision they made to finally get together ?

Fluff, smut, whatever you want 🫶🏼

Title: This Is The Last Time – Part Two

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary: The morning after Word Count: 1k

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, you is being unfaithful (with Bucky), Smut, little angst/guilt, fluff, unprotected sex.  

A/N: Ok I tried…  

Sunlight spills across the bed, catching the slope of Bucky’s bare shoulder, the curve of your thigh tangled with his. His arm is heavy around your waist, warm and possessive even in sleep. You’re still pressed chest to chest, legs knotted, bodies fused like you hadn’t even moved since the night before.

And maybe you hadn’t.

For the first time, you didn’t sneak out. For the first time, you didn’t lie to yourself.

You stayed.

And you’ve never felt more right.

You shift slightly, trying not to wake him, but his grip tightens, just enough to remind you he knows you. Knows your patterns. Knows your tells. That little ghost of hesitation? He feels it.

"Mm-mm," he hums, voice thick with sleep, lips brushing your collarbone. "No more runnin’, remember?"

You smile, letting your eyes flutter closed again. "I wasn’t."

"Liar," he murmurs against your skin, but it’s teasing now, not wounded. There’s no edge in it. Just affection. Just Bucky.

You breathe him in. His scent. The way his skin still smells like last night, like you. Like love. But somewhere deep inside, a knot of unease curls in your chest.

There’s a call you still have to make.

One that isn't going to be easy. One that feels like standing on a ledge with no guarantee of landing clean. You’re not entirely free yet—not until that call untangles you from the mess you’ve been avoiding. The one you left behind to come here. It sits in your chest, heavy, poisoning the edges of this peace.

Your gaze drifts away, head shifting subtly toward the window, toward the outside world that’s already trying to creep in.

And Bucky notices.

His hand slides gently along your hip, fingertips tracing soft reassurance. His lips find your jaw, trailing kisses with quiet purpose, pulling you back into the warmth of him.

"Just be here, alright?" he whispers, lips brushing your skin. "We can worry about that after breakfast. Just... be here."

Your chest tightens. "I know..." you breathe, guilt and longing warring in your voice.

He nudges your face back toward him, thumb under your chin, eyes locked on yours. "You’re not doing this alone anymore. We handle it together. But right now? Right now, we stay in this."

You nod slowly, but he doesn’t look convinced. Not with the way your eyes keep flicking to the window, the weight still behind them.

In one slow, easy motion, Bucky rolls you onto your back, caging you in with his body. His arms brace on either side of your head, his hair falling slightly into his eyes as he leans in.

"Come back," he murmurs, nose nudging yours, his lips pressing into you- soft at first, then deeper, more insistent. His hips press down gently, morning wood thick against you, grinding with slow, deliberate purpose.

His tongue teases at your lips, then demands entry with a flick that makes your toes curl. One of his hands slides down, coaxing your thigh up around his waist, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him.

"Be here with me," he breathes between kisses. "Just for a little while longer. Just us."

You melt into the kiss, into his touch, into the promise of it. Into him.

Bucky shifts, his hand guiding himself to your entrance with practiced ease and tenderness, and when he finally sinks into you, it’s slow and smooth and so deep you gasp into his mouth. There’s no rush, no frenzy- just the quiet hum of need and the certainty of being exactly where you belong.

His thrusts are gentle but demanding, steady and thorough, like he wants to draw every sound from your throat, every ounce of tension from your limbs. He changes the angle of his hips, adjusting with that instinctive knowledge of your body, and when he finds that spot, the one that makes your breath stutter and your nails dig into his back, he stays there, rocking into it again and again.

Your legs tighten around him, your back arching as pleasure coils low in your belly, spreading like warm sunlight. Bucky leans in, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your ear.

"I've got you," he whispers. "Just let go, baby. Let me take care of you."

And you do. Because here, wrapped in him, filled by him, there's nothing else. No weight. No guilt. No past. Just this slow, consuming love that promises he's not going anywhere- and neither are you.

~#~#~#~#~

You end up in the shower together, tangled in laughter and steam. Like in bed that morning, this too is slow. Unhurried. A different kind of intimacy, the kind that says we don’t have to rush anymore. Bucky washes your hair with careful fingers, massaging your scalp until your knees go soft. You trace the metal plates of his arm with soap- slicked hands, marvelling at the strength he so often tempers into tenderness. He kisses your neck when he thinks you won’t notice.

You notice. And this time, you don’t pull away.

"You good?" he asks after a long beat, shifting just enough to look at you properly, hand moving up to cup your jaw.

You nod. "Better than good. You?"

His thumb strokes your cheek. “Best damn decision I ever made.”

You dry off together, passing the towel back and forth, trading soft glances and lazy smiles. Later, wrapped in his shirt and nothing else, you find yourself in the kitchen making coffee while he watches you from the doorway, like he's seeing you properly for the first time. You can feel his gaze, warm, heavy, reverent as you pour into the mug he always uses.

When he comes up behind you, arms slipping around your waist, mouth pressing to your shoulder, you lean into him without a second thought. He rests his chin on your shoulder, swaying you gently from side to side.

You close your eyes and let it wash over you- this peace, this new beginning. There’s no rush to define it, no expectation. Just being.

Because there’s no more weight. No more burden.

Just this.

Just you and him.

Finally.

Together.

[m0reighn4]

His voice

Sae realises that his voice affects you. But he wants to test just how much...

Warnings: Smut under the cut; a little out of character (ooc); a tad rushed; Google translated Spanish (your girl just don't know the language ✌🏽😔)

Sae's voice is hot. That much is a given. If he spoke English, it was heavenly. When he spoke his native language, Japanese? Argh! That right there is the ticket straight to heaven!

Now, this had been something you'd gotten used to until one day, when travelling with him in Madrid, Sae is speaking to someone in Spanish. This makes you pause. Similarly to when he speaks English, you can still hear the Japanese accent in his voice. The syllables roll off his tongue so naturally.

Your surprised reaction doesn't go unnoticed by the soccer genius, who subtly slips his arm around your waist. Though it doesn't show, a subtle smirk forms on his face as he continues his discussion.

But when it really comes through is when Sae has got you— pressed into his pristine sheets, back arched into the soft mattress, moaning and whimpering his name just the way he likes.

With the way he skillfully works your body, he draws the best reactions from you. But tonight, it isn't enough. Tonight, he wants even more from you.

Sae leans down, draping your back in his heat as his face comes close to your ear. This is action is all too common for him. Expecting the usual groaning or panting of his, you immediately offer your attention to him. And that's when you hear it— soft and hot against the shell of your ear.

"Allá vamos mi amor, [There we go, my love],"he pants.

And that when he feels it, just the mere sound of his voice being used like this driving you wild. You can't help but shudder, bring the man above his much desired satisfaction.

The both of you groan in unison, his much softer than yours. A soft head of auburn hair drops to your shoulder. His lips tugs into a small, subtle smirk. Oh, he's got you.

Feathery kisses are pressed to the plane of your shoulder, up the column of your neck, right to your ear once more. And you can almost hear his smug smirk in his voice as his thrusts turn the slightest bit sharper.

"Mmh, entonces te gusta mi voz[Mmh, so you do like my voice]?"

All that runs through your mind is Sae, Sae, Sae! It's driving you nuts in the best way possible. As you ride further up on cloud nine, his voice pulls you right back down to earth once again.

His smirk widens when a whine is ripped right from your throat. Sae leaves a sweet kiss right under your ear. And that just leaves you even hotter.

"Te vas a correr para mí, ¿no?[You're gonna cum for me, aren't you?]" And it doesn't take a genius to know how right he is. With your eyes rolled back and your jaw going slack, he whispers in your ear one more time, "Anda, cúmpleme[Go on, cum for me.]"

And that's all you need. With a gasp of his name, white, hot pleasure bursts through your body as you shiver against him. Sae holds you close, reaching his hand over to tilt your jaw to his face. It doesn't take too long before he falls right over the edge with you, smashing his lips to yours to forcing you to swallow the soft sigh of relief he releases.

Aight, so a lot went down with this one. First off, it took me a month to complete (most of that time, it was just sitting in my drafts, collecting dust). Then, came the inevitable issue, me not knowing any Spanish other than the microscopic amounts I learnt from Dora when I was like 4 😭🤷🏽‍♀️. So feel free to correct any mistakes I made in between. And then, my worst one, posting this WAY earlier than I was supposed to. It was so bad that it wasn't even DONE! So I actually had to rush it a little towards the end 😭

So on that note, thanks to everyone who liked and reblogged my incomplete work. And I hope you enjoy the finished work even more now! Thank you all for reading! 🤍🤍💙💙

[billthedrake]

LINEAGE (PART TEN)

"Hey, Dad," Junior said as I was almost out the door for work. He was still his workout clothes from his morning gym time with Braden.

"Yeah, buddy?" I asked.

I'd been feeling things out with my eldest son since we'd started fooling around. We had Brade's blessing, and about once a week our son joined us in the marital bed. Still, I second guessed myself. It felt right, and yet it didn't.

Only now, Junior... I don't know, he just looked hot as fuck. Self-possessed for a young man his age and yet innocent, emotionally open. A lot like Braden was when I first started up with my son-husband. I was so caught up in taking in his cute-handsome features and jockish looks that it took me a second to notice he was holding a folded piece of paper.

"I wanted to give you this."

I took the paper. "What is it...?"

I started opening it but Junior stopped. "Can you open it later, Dad?" he asked. He seemed embarrassed or something.

"Why?" I wasn't trying to be a bossy father but well maybe I was.

"Please, Dad. Just wait till you get to the office or something."

"All right," I said. stuffing it into my inner suit coat pocket.

I started to lean in for a goodbye kiss, then heard the sound of Evan or maybe Keith's door opening. I gave a shrug. "Rain check?"

Junior smiled. "Yes, sir." I could tell he was enjoying the little secret we had. "Later, Dad."

"Later buddy."

I did as Junior requested and waited until I got to the office. Then I unfolded the paper and read my son's distinctive handwriting.

"DAD'S HOUSE RULES," it read.

Then below were a numbered list.

1. Dad's relationship to Daddy comes first. I'm not here as competition.

2. One-on-one time with my Dad is limited to once a week.

3. Dad and Daddy may invite me to join them. I'll be grateful for that trust each and every time.

4. No displays of affection in front of my brothers, or out in public.

5. School and homework come before sex.

6. I'll never be too old for one of my father's lectures.

I had to chuckle. I'd talked about about some of this with Junior and apologized for lecturing him. This was his way of taking what I'd told him and accepting it, even adding more to the ground rules. I don't think I'd ever been so impressed with Junior and his maturity. I pulled out my phone and dialed him.

"Hey Dad," he said. His voice was nervous.

"Hey kiddo," I said. "I thought I'd catch you before class."

"Just heading to home room now."

"I won't keep you," I said. "I just want you to know that you wrote was perfect, Son."

"Yeah?" I could hear the smile on his face.

"Absolutely. OK if I share this with your Daddy?"

"Of course," he said.

My office door was shut, so I ventured to say, "I love you, kiddo."

"Love you, too, Dad."

I hung up with a proud parental smile on my face. And a rock hard erection in my trousers beneath my desk.

***

I got home early that day, with perfect timing. The twins were down for a nap, and Braden was shirtless in the living room, resting and reading his ipad.

"Hey Dad," he said, looking up in a dreamy relaxation.

"The twins asleep?" I asked quietly.

My son nodded. "Thought they wouldn't ever tire out today. Damn, twins are exhausting."

I felt bad. "We can always take a break on making them a brother," I said. I meant it, too. As much as I wanted another son, real bad, Braden's health and sanity came first.

Brade just grinned and leaned forward on the couch. "I want you to put another set of twins in me, Dad... triplets even."

Goddamn, my husband knew how to turn me on, and I knew that even if he meant every word, he was saying it get me going. Indeed he had a smirk as he reached forward and felt up my trousers to paw at the hardon forming in the crotch. "I love making my father hard," he said softly.

Brade and I got off on sex in the living room or the common areas of the house, since with five boys we didn't have much chance. "You always do, Son. You've given me so many boners." Already I was unzipping, and reaching into work out my cock. I took another second to guide my underwear fully tucked beneath the balls, allowing my excited genitals to stick out fully for Brade's appraisal.

My hunky son-husband felt up that erection, taking his time and barely moving his eyes from my dick. "I know you don't think I mean it, Dad, but I'll start taking those fertility pills if it gives us multiples." The Fiedlers had mentioned their luck with those pills. Indeed, Adam Fiedler at 78, was now pregnant with his boyfriend-son's kid.

I croaked out a half-formed word of approval, even as Brade started taking my cock into his mouth. I placed my hands on my hips and looked down, watching in pride at how good he was at this. I had the best fucking husband in the world.

Braden started sucking nice and slow, sensually making love to my dick with his mouth, until he worked more of my meat into the back of his throat and gullet with each bob. He wasn't gonna get me off, not yet, but he damn well could have once he decided to.

But he pulled off and gave my dick an adminiring gaze. "Is Junior getting better at sucking you?" he asked.

"Some, yeah," I replied. It felt kinky as hell to talk about our son in the middle of sex. "He's certainly giving it his all."

Now Brade's eyes flashed up to meet mine. "I bet. I felt it was like a year of sucking you before I got my technique down."

"I loved every minute, you know that son." I about guided his head back to take care of me again, but I had a better idea. I pulled Junior's note from my inner suit pocket and handed it to Brade. "Here... read this."

My son looked at me with a bemused surprise but took the folded paper and opened it to read. As he did, I slowly stripped off, folding my suit jacket over a spare chair, slipping off my tie, and unbuttoning my dress shirt.

"God," Braden said. "We raised a good kid, Dad."

"That we did," I smiled. "I got so hard reading that," I admitted.

"I bet," Braden said. "I'm leaking now." He leaned back and spread his legs and indeed I could see a big wet spot on his shorts where the tip of his dick rode up the thin fabric. "You gotta take him on a date night, Dad. A real one."

I knew what Braden meant. So far "date night" meant just sex with Junior. An hour or less stolen away for private time to explore with my eldest. Usually after a weekend golf outing. But this... the idea made my cock jerk. "What would you think of that, Braden?"

He looked at me with lust and a good dose of trust. "You know what I think, Dad. I think every son in the world should have the chance to have date night with his father."

I reached down and pulled him up. Brade knew what I wanted anyway and was standing up to meet me. We kissed passionately, a mix of romance and sexual desire.

"I still get so turned on thinking of our first one," I muttered finally.

"Yeah... me dropping my prom date off and you taking me out for late night Chinese. Me in my tux, you in your sport coat." He laughed.

"And a hotel room after," I reminded him.

"And that hotel room after... Fuck," Braden growled. He was undoing my belt now, and could surely feel the leaky tip of my cock against the back of his hands. "I definitely want that for Junior. And for any of our sons who want that."

That idea was there, but it was the first time either of us had said it. My prick jerked against Braden's hands, as he shucked down my trousers.

"You think our boys are gonna grow up to be Daddy's boys?" I growled.

Braden looked at me with this intense look of lust. "Maybe not like Junior... but yeah I do, Dad. Dr. Mark thinks that incest desire is genetic but even if it's not... you're just a stud of a Dad. They're gonna go for you."

This was Braden-style sex talk. Wild and out there, pushing my buttons. I didn't care that it was crazy fantasy, I was gonna fuck with this idea in my head. I now peeled Braden's shorts down. "I fucking love being a father, Braden," I hissed. It was a simple and silly thing to say, but it turned Brade the fuck on.

He kicked off his shorts and stepped back to sit on the couch, leaning back into the cushion and raising his legs, spreading them for me to see his furry trench and regularly used pucker which still had some appealing snugness despite our years for sex life together. His dick was hard against his crunched abs and I could see the fullness in his still milk-producing pecs.

"Lube's on the end table," he said.

I gestured to the hall behind me. "The twins OK?" I asked. I mean, they were asleep but our fucks had been interrupted by cries down the hall before.

"Yeah, Dad, but hurry..."

I nodded as I slicked up and got in place. The entry was quick, but Brade adjusted. I think reading Junior's note, then our expanding sex talk, had him in heat.

"Fuck you feel good, Son," I hissed, powering more cock inside his warm guts.

"Fuck me, Dad. Like that... You make me fall in love again with you every single time."

I was getting real into this, and between the priming BJ and sex talk, I wasn't gonna last long today. I got more physical, not hard, but definitely faster and more urgent in my thrusts.

"I wanna knock you up, Brade. Again. And again." Ok, this was my crazy fantasy getting the best of me.

"Triplets? Multiples?" Braden asked, his voice getting soft in lust.

"If you let me Brade, then, yeah." I was fucking harder.

"I'll let you, Dad. Get those pills from Fiedler. Pop them right in front of you to turn you on."

"Goddamn," I hissed. I was THIS close to cumming and trying not to be loud.

"Make you a bunch of new son boyfriends," Braden grunted.

That did it. My body clenched and I went into full-body orgasm. Face flushed, muscled tensed, cock pumping a heavy load into my eldest son. Braden gave a couple of tugs and his own prick fired off.

We uncoupled and kissed softly.

"Thank you, Son," I said, feeling up my son's hunky chest and nuzzling my face against his cheek. I was a little embarrassed for where the fantasy had gone, but instinctively I knew Braden was there for every bit of it.

"That was hot for me, too, Dad. Jesus."

"How much of that was sex talk, Son?" I asked. Brade and I had a way of letting our imaginations run away from us during sex.

He shrugged. "I dunno. Not all of it. We'll figure it out, OK, Dad?"

"Yeah," I said. I gave his chest one more pat. "I'm going to take Junior on a date... this weekend if we can come up with an excuse to the other boys."

"I'll work on that, Dad," Braden said, getting into the co-conspirator mode.

I looked at my watch. "Speaking of... time to pick up the boys," I said. "I'll get cleaned off." This was our division of labor lately. Braden looking after the twins and starting dinner while I did pick up duty for Evan and Keith.

It was a good arrangement, only now I hated to see Braden pick up his shorts and cover that amazing muscle ass.

***

Around 9 o clock that night, I gave a gentle knock. Junior was doing his calculus homework. But he cracked a huge smile when he saw me. There had been a lot of eye contact and knowing smiles over the dinner table, but we hadn't had a chance to talk about his note. The House Rules.

"Hey dad," he said. God, he looked amazing in his knit polo and golf shorts, barefoot on the bed. Tall and hunky as he was lanky. He was so much like Braden and yet a reflection of me, too. The best of both, I thought, humbly.

I shut the door behind me. "I wanted to talk about those House Rules," I said as I stepped up to the bed.

He looked up at me with that crushed out look I was only now beginning to recognize. Leave it to Braden to catch on to Junior's infatuation with me first. "Did I leave something off, Dad?" he asked, eager and innocent.

I reached forward to squeeze his shoulder muscle. "Not a damn thing, kiddo. I just figured I'd let you know what I thought of what you wrote." With that I leaned forward and kissed my son. A peck, until Junior got the picture and opened his mouth for a fuller French kiss.

"God, Dad..." Junior said. "That's fucking nice." Bill Jr was still very much enjoying the freedom to curse around me.

"I'll say, buddy." I massaged behind his hear. He was so cute, just on the cusp of college but already grown up in so many ways. "I don't want to disturb your homework," I said, in a tone that said I very much did.

"I'll get it done," Junior said quietly. He was horny and emotional. I had to remember he was swimming in a crazy amount of teenage hormones.

"House rule number 5?" I asked with a stern poker face.

That made Junior laugh. "House rule number 5."

I nodded. Proud. "What do you think of a date night Saturday?"

"You know I always love that, Dad."

My fingers went down to tease along his neck. "I meant a real date, Junior. Dinner, maybe a hotel stay after."

Junior's eyes lit up. "For real, Dad?... God.... what about Daddy?"

"It was your Daddy's idea," I assured him. "But I very much would be honored if you'd be my date this weekend."

"Do I gotta dress up?" Junior teased me.

"You gotta dress up," I answered in my best paternal voice.

That thrilled him, only he got a worried look. "What about Rule Number 4?" The one about no affection in front of his brothers.

"Your Daddy and I are working on that."

"In that case... I'd fucking honored to be your date, Dad."

I gave him a soft kiss. Junior was becoming a really good kisser. I looked forward to giving him some more lessons on Saturday night.

"What do you think of a down payment, Son?" I asked.

He nodded, dumbly. Maybe one of these days we'd get to the point where Junior didn't patiently wait for me to initiate sex, but for now we had to manage this new thing. Which meant Dad calling the shots.

I gave him a loving grin and reached down to undo his shorts. "You've grown up to be a big boy," I said.

"No bigger than you," Junior replied, daring to reach forward to paw at my sweat pants, which were fully tented up now. I'd fucked Brade earlier but my libido was firing on all cylinders lately.

"Strip, Son," I hissed, taking the initiative to clear the calculus books off his bed.

Junior couldn't take off his clothes fast enough. He was sometimes self conscious about his body, worried he didn't have the muscle of his Daddy, but now that he saw how much I was into his youthful bulk, he enjoyed showing it to me.

I kissed along his leg, working up from the calf to the inner thigh.

"What are we gonna do on Saturday... sexually?" he asked.

"A surprise," I said. "But I want you to think about what you'd like to do with me, OK?"

"Hell, yes," my son said. Then "FUCK!" he cried as I started to go down on him.

I pulled off and clamped my hand over his mouth. The mansion was spacious but his brothers' room was nearby.

I felt Junior lick my hand, which was a sexual neediness I didn't expect. For some reason that turned me on like crazy. I leaned up and pushed down my sweats, showing off my dad cock.

Junior didn't need me to guide him. Horned up, he dove forward and started licking me. I thought of Braden's question early. Our son wasn't nearly so skilled at sucking, but I got off on his enthusiasm. He worked three and then four inches in steady up and down motion.

I finally pulled him off and claimed another kiss.

"Why don't we jerk off, kiddo? I wanna kiss my son while we cum."

"Hell, yes, Dad."

So that's what we did. Our naked bodies settling in side by side on his double bed. Father and son, stroking and making out, our spare hand feeling up each other's nakedness.

"Dad...." Junior hissed as he got close.

"Let it go, buddy... let me see that big boy load of yours." I patted his chest, much like I'd patted Brade's earlier that afternoon.

Junior held on tight to me as he gave it up. Ten heavy shots of Drake sperm covered us both. I growled my approval and met him for a deep kiss, while I stroked out a healthy amount of cum to mix with his.

We caught our breaths and smiled at each other as we came down from our orgasms. "God fucking damn, Dad... I didn't know that would be so hot."

I nodded. "Just wait till Saturday."

That made Junior laugh. "I don't think I can, Dad."

I patted his arm. "I'm serious about what I said. I want you to think about what you'd love to do with me."

"Anything?" he asked. Clearly excited by that prospect.

I shook my head. "I can't say I'll be open to anything, but we should feel free to talk man-to-man."

"Like you and Daddy do?"

"You your Daddy and I did when he was your age. OK?"

"Yes, sir."

Junior's new room had an attached bathroom and we both had big grins as we showered off, kissing some and making out some.

We were still a little giddy as we dried off and slipped on our clothes again.

"That gonna last you till Saturday, kiddo?" I finally asked softly.

"No," he said with a laugh. "Seriously, Dad. You made my week."

"We'll make it an even better weekend."

I checked on Evan and then Keith and made sure they were getting ready for bed. The twins were already put to sleep so when I made it back to my room Braden was there, watching TV in bed, shirtless and if I knew him, naked.

I didn't have to explain what had just happened. My husband intuitively knew.

"I told you he'd love the idea, Dad," Brade said.

I peeled off my T-shirt and took off my sweats. My dick was soft but I loved the way Braden watched it.

"If you're too spent for sex tonight, that's OK," he said. Understanding, and maybe a little turned on by the fact that I was fooling around with Junior.

"Just give me a little recovery time, OK, buddy?" I asked, getting underneath the covers and snuggling up to my eldest son and feeling the firmer, harder nakedness. He was rock hard against me as we pulled each other into a kiss.

"Dad..." Brade finally said. Like he was going to admonish me. Or ask me for something I didn't want to hear.

"What buddy?" I asked.

His hands ran along my naked back. "Can you talk to Fiedler about getting those pills? Like this weekend?"

That did it, my dick was firming up now. "In a rush, are we?" I winked.

Braden smiled and nodded. "Dad, it's been about two years... I want your kid in me again."

I gave him a deep kiss and rolled over on top of him. Braden clung to me needily, wrapping his legs around me. For all that I was loving the new connection I had with Junior, my husband gave me this pure sexual need that was deeper and different.

I humped against him and we made out until I had an idea. It wasn't quite 10 o clock, not too late. I reached over for my phone and while Braden looked on at me with confusion, I called Dr. Fiedler.

"Todd... it's Bill," I said. "No... everything good. We're all set for Saturday... I'm just... " I looked at Braden while I talked to the doctor. "I want to see if you could prescribe us those fertility pills... the stronger dose... I'll have Braden pick up the scrip tomorrow... yeah, thanks a bunch, man. See you at the club... Yeah, good night."

By the time I set down the phone again, I was rock hard. I kissed Braden and using the lube he'd already applied down there, I entered him. Imagining how amazing it would be to make son number seven.

[angelart67]

MY THOUGHTS ON THIS SUBJECT:

Just A Few Basic Points:

• I've been just as upset as anyone else, that we wasn't seeing cuffs being slapped on culprits & them being drug away to languish in some cell, while awaiting a trial, for traitorist activity against our country & its citizens.

SO I DID SOME CRITICAL THINKING...

• How long did it take these traitors to steal funds, lie, destroy, infect people, lie some more, brainwash folks, the list goes on, but basically, any activity that has had a horrible, negative affect on our country?

REALLY THINK ABOUT IT NOW...

• THIS administration has been in office barely over 2 months, at this point, AND they not only have to figure out & find all the bad BS that was done, discover ALL parties involved, discover exactly how, where, when, why, etc. They have to do all that WHILE running the country simultaneously...

• Soooo, any great attorney will tell you just how long "complete discovery" takes, especially if you want to cover your ass, handle any possible loopholes, & be completely prepared, to the extent of having a surefire WINNING CASE...

• DJT & Company doesn't just wanna arrest & humiliate the folks involved. They want to build an IRON CLAD case that these yaywho's can not get around, or out of... & as unfortunate as that sounds for those of us awaiting justice, it is impossible to do in only about 2 months' time...

• WE MUST HOLD ON TO ANY ANGER & CONTINUE TO BE PATIENT... If we do, our elected & hired officials will not let us down, & we will see them punished in the end...

• But if we rush our admin into action, just for the sake of seeing action, it simply isn't going to stick... & ya know, these jerks, they are going after, they have high-powered lawyers too, & they probably paid for em with stolen tax funds & bribes, but they still got em...

Sooooo... as they say...

"You want it fast? or, You want it right?"

For the first time in my life, we have an executive body that is calling out and investigating the known corruption in our government. I can’t understand how any American taxpayer would be opposed to this 🤔😳!!

[angelyuji]

It’s a crime that there isn’t more stuff for Cecil (now that I’ve gotten into invincible). In your post you mentioned reader being in a Truman Show like situation, what if someone unfortunately messed up and gave it away, or she figured some stuff out and tried to leave? Is the tracker in her or is it like something she can leave in order to buy time? I just need more stuff for this man and the show as a whole. Love your works by the way.

omggg right!!! i got into invincible when it first came out and the lack of cecil x readers made me soo sad but im here to fix that... now...

anyways thats something i thought about while writing the headcanons but i didnt want to go off on another tangent halfway through lmao

cw // yandere behavior, made up gda employee oc, truman-show vibes, i'm not really sure how to label this... its not really kidnapping cuz you moved willingly but cecil set it all up. like he controls every part of your life, unconsensual body modification, (lmk if i missed anything)

humans make mistakes unfortunately and that goes for the gda as well for sureee.

no matter how much they're trained and how much cecil stresses that you cannot know that you're being watched or that basically your entire life/job is fake, someone will slip up.

similar to how it happened on the truman show, you wouldn't necessarily figure it out until someone slips up.

you periodically check your phone. hoping to get a call from cecil soon. you missed him: his warmth, his smile, his voice, his hands, everything about him. you could feel your heart ache.

"(y/n)?" you turn back around to jessica, sighing. your neighbor had come over, asking for some company after her husband left for work. you set a cup of coffee down in front of her and lean back on the counter behind you.

"sorry, i- cecil hasn't called me back. he said he would after his-" you pause, cecil hadn't told you what was keeping him away this time after leaving in a rush.

'i'm sorry, i know i promised to stay longer, but things are... they need me back at work.' he pressed a kiss to your forehead and you rub his back. you could still feel his misery after he pulls you into a tight hug. you tilt his face down to plant a kiss on his lips.

'cecil, go. i'll be here, waiting for you."

"his mission brief or whatever?" jessica rolls her eyes, sipping her coffee. "cecil is such a hardass. so-called leader of the GDA can't even make time for the person he's keep-" she stops, cup frozen against her lips. you stare at her, eyes wide.

"what? mission briefing? what are you-" you reach over to her, but she jolts out of her chair. the cup slips from her hand, shattering at the floor.

"shit- i'm- god, i'm so fucked." she looked frantic, eyes darting around the house before bolting. you were frozen in place, eyes at the front door she left open. you looked over to the mess your friend had left and resign yourself to clean.

i feel like once you get that small slip, everything else comes unraveling with it

cecil will find out that jessica messed up (cuz he's watching you using the cameras in your house <33) and boyyy is he pissed

not that you would know how pissed he is

cecil, to me, is a very soft yandere compared to the psychos we have in the show (and that i've written about) so he wouldn't kill jessica/whomever slipped up

but he would make them disappear from your life

he would affectively move them from the quiet comforts of the suburban town to some fuckass mission in the arctic or smth

firing them isn't enough punishment, he needs them to feel pain w/o killing them becuz he has "morals"

anyyyway you'd get distracted that day with work and then cecil coming over to go see wth jessica was talking about

you rest against his chest, head buzzing with worry. 'what did jessica mean by mission? what was the GDA? what did she mean "keeping you"? was jessica lying to you? is cecil?' you close your eyes and cling to him. "you feeling okay, honey?" he pulls you in by the waist, putting a hand to your forehead, "doesn't seem like you're sick."

you smile and rest your head back onto his chest, "just... a weird day, i guess."

"talk to me." he uses a finger to tilt your head up. you bite your lip, unsure if you should bring it up. "don't do that." you stop, just from his words.

"i- today... you know our neighbor, jessica?"

"she sounds... familiar. why?"

"well... she said something about a GDA? i'm honestly not sure, but she seemed just so weird today after i mentioned you." you feel cecil's grip on your waist tighten.

"what did she say exactly?"

"i don't know," you sigh, tired. "something about a mission and a GDA... and..." you pause.

"and?" you feel cecil stir, turning himself to look at you. your eyes trace the lines on his face, the scar on his face, and the love in his eyes.

you smile, "it doesn't matter. she was probably just talking crazy because she missed her husband." you laugh. cecil smiles, pulling you back into him, resting his chin on your head. "do you go crazy missing me, cecil?" you mumble into his chest as his hands sneak under your shirt.

"i start going crazy the moment i can't see you, (y/n)."

btw cecil's 6'4

OWY*)IDG(U:OKJD"PISA"SDOKAS{DKASDSAD im about to sloppy style on that istggg

sorry, cecil was lowkey interrogating you cause he wanted to see 1. how much his dumbass employee said and 2. how much you believed

he's pretty happy you disregarded everything...

but did you?

after that moment with jessica, you start to really notice how many eyes are on you

at first, you think you're just being paranoid but then when did you introduce yourself to the mailman? why did everybody in town know your name? you're not that popular to have people watching you over their newspaper or as they walk their dog

to get rid of your suspicions you go over to jessica's house only to find a sold sign on their front lawn.

cecil is quick to get rid of idiots, so jessica and ?maybe?fake?husband was gone literally the day after she messed up

that was the final straw for you to realize that something was very very veryyy wrong

anyway lemme add some quick thoughts before this gets longer than it needs to be: cecil def put a tracker on you.

he couldn't really put a tracker on every piece of clothing you own, so maybe he told the in-town dentist that your wisdom teeth need to come out or some tooth needed fixing

and while you were knocked out, tracker in your skin

the only way you could leave effectively is if somehow you managed to figure out where the tracker is and also somehow manage to evade the employees that watch the house and also somehow manage to disable the cameras before cecil finds out

its hard but... with a little luck (and a kinder author) you/(y/n) could do it!

i also mentioned in a different post that cecil would probably put a chip similar to mark's in your head, but i think he'd do something like that only if you were someone with powers

[paulyenvol6]

'Cause I know you like it

A smutty one shot of Javier Peña fucking your brains out in his office. Enjoy :)

Contains: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, rough oral (m receiving), gagging, degrading, very rough sex, use of words like whore/slut, age gap (Javi is around the age of reader's father), objectifying, mean and dom Javi, daddy issues, a little bit of crying, teasing, edging, Javi coming on reader's face, smoking, no aftercare

Wordcount: 3,518

Masterlist

"Fuckkk…," Javi hissed through gritted teeth his jaw deliciously clenched as you lifted your gaze a little to see the pleasure on his face.

You smiled trailing your tongue up the thick vein on his cock and it only intensed feeling his hand tighten around your ponytail.

"Keep your fucking eyes down, slut," he dangerously whispered but his hoarsely voice gave away just how much your actions affected him which filled you with satisfaction not at all caring about his insult. This was Javier Pena after all so what were you expecting?

He yanked your head back just slightly and then forced himself even deeper down your throat and by now your gagging reflexes were beyond triggered but Javi simply didn't care. He ignored your retching and gagging flaring his nostrils at how tight your throat felt around him hands holding you in place and legs pressing against your kneeling body that was settled between his parted thighs.

"You dirty girl… I know you enjoy this. Sleeping with your goddamn boss after a week in this firm."

Your teary eyes shot up to him struggling to keep him in but Javi didn't give you a chance anyway his iron grip around your hair making you take every inch.

"But I enjoy it just as much. Maybe we should introduce all of our little interns this way, mhm? Fucking their mouths until they stop asking those goddamn stupid questions and their annoying talking…"

With these words he yanked your head off his cock almost angry as if you had enraged him, then grabbing your upper arms to pull you up and guide you to sit on his desk that he had wiped free with one movement of his hand.

"Javi, I need you so bad," you panted once your ass touched the wooden area and watched him pump his leaking cock with anticipating eyes.

"And I need you to shut the fuck up, sit still and open your fucking legs for me," he growled his words making your cheeks turn red although you felt ashamed to admit that his dirty talk had such an effect on you.

Still you complied parting your thighs so he had full access to what hid between them and flinched when Javi ripped the fabric of your panties. He had done that twice before and each time he had been particularly rough and passionate afterwards so it seemed like you were in for a treat.

"There we go… look at that," he whispered his head tilted eyes examining your pussy so unshamingly that you would have liked to sink into the ground in any other circumstances but not with Javi. The "Daddy" escaped your lips before you could give it a second thought his eyes darting at you in an amused manner.

"Christ… You're that fucking touch-starved?"

He slapped your pussy roughly which made you jolt and grip the sleeves of his jacket and he quickly reacted to it by grabbing both your wrists with one of his big hands pressing them against your stomach.

"You know how this is gonna work. You're gonna do as I tell you and all I wanna hear out of your pretty mouth is 'yes' and 'thank you'. Now take off your shirt."

Your shaky hands grabbed the hem of your shirt pulling the fabric up and then over your head looking right into Javi's tensed face once your head was freed. His nostrils were flared, jaw clenched and his eyes flashing as he regarded your face and upper body that was bare under his gaze.

"Aren't you such a pathetic little slut?" he growled bringing his hand to your throat applying light pressure. "Fucking walking around my office with no bra on. What do you think your daddy would say if he knew that his precious little girl spreads her legs for his co-worker after two days and has fallen to her knees at any chance ever since? What do you think he would say if he saw you like this?"

You whined desperately shifting under his touch your body practically screaming for more.

"Please Javi…"

The corner of his mouth curled while his hands forcefully cupped your breast massaging your flesh which provoked another quiet moan in you.

"There it is again… You're so fucking desperate to get that hole fucked, isn't that right? 'Cause I know you like being used and ruined by me," he then hissed almost threateningly as he suddenly pulled you towards him, his mouth close to your ear.

"You like being a stupid brain-dead slut for me when all you gotta do is obey me. And yet you're still so bad at it…"

You didn't know what to do and what to say so he would give you what you craved so badly and it drove you so insane that all you could do was bring out a desperate whine. Your hands scratched the back of his hand around your neck begging him to do anything to reduce the throbbing heat between your legs.

"Keep those fucking hands to yourself or I'll tie them up," he hissed while pulling them off with his hand that had previously massaged your breasts. You on the other hand quietly gasped at the thought pupils dilating with a new eagerness that Javi obviously noticed.

"Yeah you'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd like me to tie you up and use this little body until you pass out. S'cause your daddy didn't love you enough?"

He pulled you back by your hair to have better access to your chin and gripped it firmly while running his thumb over your bottom lip making it snap back.

"S'that why you're so fucked in the head that you let me treat you like shit and get off on it? S'that why I'd have to snap with my finger and you'd do anything I want you to? Fucking whore."

You should feel embarrassed. The flushness on your cheeks should be traced back to you feeling ashamed of the way Javi was talking to you. You should tell him to stop and leave the office of your father's co-worker and be creeped out by all of this. But you most certainly shouldn't feel the wetness drooling down the insides of your thighs at his words and your clit pulsating in anticipation. You shouldn't want Javi to continue exactly like this and degrade you until you were his personal fuck toy. But you did and right now you couldn't think of anything other than the filthy words out of his words and his cock leaking with precum.

"Please Javi. Please, I really need you. Fuck, do something."

His nostrils flared his fingers painfully buried in your cheeks but then he let go off you and before you could process the thrill of what he had just done you felt him trail a finger over your slit.

"Jesus fucking christ… Such a helpless little thing… Dripping all over my fucking desk. Need me to help you, mhm? Need me to do something about this mess?"

You could only nod your toes curling and your fingers scratching over the wooden desk now instead of his hands.

"Then use your fucking voice. You talked my ear off the whole day and now you refuse to answer me 'cause I fucked your brains out without even touching you. Go on. Wanna hear you beg me."

You swallowed hardly parting your lips and felt tears welling in your eyes as you cleared your throat.

"I need you. Please touch me, Javi."

He grinned but it was a smug arrogant smirk. "There you go. Good fucking pet."

With these words he circled your entrance savouring how soaked you were for him and how your hole almost seemed to draw in his digit but he didn't give in yet instead teasing your for a while before searching for your clit.

"I want you to look at me. And don't you make me repeat it for the rest of the night. I'm gonna say it once and if you won't be able to do as I say I'm gonna leave you here and you can get off on your own."

Panic flooded your system as you desperately pushed yourself closer to him signalising him how needy you were.

"N-No, I'll be good, daddy. I swear."

You made sure to keep your eyes on him as he started to circle your clit in slow but intense movements already making it hard for you to keep your eyes open.

"Yeah… that's what she likes, mhm?" Javi mumbled observing your face that was drawn with pleasure and slightly smirking at your glossy eyes.

"Like me spoiling this pretty cunt? I don't think you deserve it, but it's so much fun to make you break."

You whimpered and rocked yourself against his hand which he allowed for a while until it was too much for his taste and Javi slapped the side of your ass.

"Do I have to remind you of what I said?"

You quickly shook your head obediently looking up to him under your lashes and exhaled in relief when he didn't make an attempt to stop fingering you.

But just when you began to relax beneath his touch feeling yourself getting closer to your orgasm Javi stopped which made you gasp out eyes flickering over his face to find out if you had done something wrong.

"Why did you stop? Please, daddy, I was good."

He completely ignored you removing his hand from your pussy and without hesitation pushed two of his digits past your lips so your next words were muffled and you coughed.

"Clean them."

You met his gaze though being much less confident than he was as you twirled your tongue around his fingers just the way you had pleasured his dick a few minutes before.

Once Javi had enough he pulled them out and then just when your eyes looked down to where his center was pressed against your core you felt his tip at your entrance making all your nerves throb in excitement. Your eyes became big as coins anxiously awaiting his next move and you prayed he would finally give you what you needed so badly.

"Please daddy," you moaned again in hopes that it might encourage him to give in but the y of the word 'daddy' was swallowed as Javi worked his tip inside of you.

Your lower lip trembled your eyes glancing up to him and your fingers were pressed against the table so hard that your knuckles turned white. Javi had one of his hands in your hair guiding you the way he wanted and the other on your waist to keep you still while he made you take him inch by inch.

"That's right… there we go…," he mumbled and you swore that this sound alone could make you burst on the spot.

He leaned down to kiss you, his beard tickling your skin but then once he was inside of you to the brim he stopped. At first you thought that he wanted to give you time to adjust but when you started to roll your hips as a sign that you were ready to be properly fucked by him and he still didn't move your hands grabbed his big arms.

"You can start moving. I can take it."

He chuckled lowly tilting your head to the side by your hair and you believed that he solely did it because he could. Showing you and perhaps himself that he had utter control over your body and everything you felt.

"I know you can. 'Cause I know what a little cock-hungry slut you are."

You let out a frustrated whine realising that he wasn't yet done with teasing you and then saw him reaching next to him to pick up a cigarette.

"Javi…," you moaned almost inaudibly and pushed yourself towards him just to feel anything. But he immediately put an end to your explorations smacking your ass and then placing a firm hand on your hips.

"You're gonna keep still now or I'll shove my dick down your tight ass. We're doing this after my rules and if you can't do it I'm either gonna punish you or leave you here tied up so my co-workers will find you in the morning."

He laughed to himself while lighting a cigarette and then taking a puff.

"That would be a nice picture for your dad, mhm? Bet he'd have a few questions then."

You pouted angry tears relentlessly collecting in the corners of your eyes but if you had hoped to move something in Javi with it you couldn't have been more off. The man practically laughed about you smoking calmly as if he didn't have a worry in the world and as if his cock wasn't snug in your pussy at this moment. When he blew some smoke into your face it became too much for you and a few tears ran down your face.

"You're mean," you whispered instantly regretting the fact that you hadn't come up with an insult because Javi grinned widely wiping away a single tear.

"Aww, what's that? I haven't even started properly. You should save yourself the tears for when I pound your tight pussy."

He took one last drag on the cigarette before putting it out in an ash tray on his desk and then drew his attention on you again.

"You're a little sulky now, babygirl?" he asked his tone soft but mocking and you didn't know how to react. He brushed with his finger over your nose still not moving inside of you and at this point you didn't know what to do anymore.

"I thought you were a big girl. A big girl that knows how to use her voice to beg her daddy the way he wants to hear it."

You fought with yourself not wanting to give Javi exactly what he wanted but at the same time the prospect of finally having him fuck you made your pussy clench and you eventually let go of the last bit of dignity left inside of you.

"P-Please, Javi. I need you to fuck me. Please, do whatever you want."

You were looking down to the ground and then suddenly jolted when he bottomed out and slammed back inside making your eyes roll back. Your hands unconsciously went up to his shirt clutching and grasping him while everything around you became so overwhelming that you had problems keeping your eyes open.

"Perfect tight pussy…," Javi cursed almost spitting the words at you and moved with so much force that his balls slapped against your pussy with each thrust.

"That's all you're fucking good for. Perfect set of holes that are… all so goddamn tight and warm but so fucking worthless."

He had breathed these words oviously struggling to keep a clear mind as well but you couldn't even savour this little victory because you were on the verge of breaking. You thought that this probably was what everyone was talking about when they spoke of 'fucking one's brains out' because it felt like each time Javi's tip grazed that spongy soft spot inside of you your brain became a bigger mush leaving no room for any coherent thoughts.

At some point you fell backwards, your back connecting with the desk and Javi immediately took advantage of it grabbing your legs and pushing them to your chest, the new angle allowing him to reach deeper.

He grinded his teeth massaging your tits with his big hand and pinching your nipples every now and then just so he could find pleasure in the way your walls tightened as a reaction. His other hand was sprawled out on top of your belly in order to keep you in place which definitely wouldn't have been necessary because you were a brainless mess by now almost unable to move but you suspected that he did it to feel the bulge underneath your skin that appeared every time he reached particularly deep inside of you.

But this hand soon traveled to your center rubbing and flicking your clit so you would come soon because as much as he sometimes talked to you as though he hated you, he still wanted to make you come. It certainly had something to do with his pride and ego as well, because what kind of lover would he be if he left his partner unsatisfied?

So Javi stimulated your clit in all the right ways, circling it, pressing into it, enclosing it with two of his fingers and then he felt you tighten around his cock and your back arched against the table as you orgasmed with a loud whine.

"Fuckkkk… Javi, please," you cried tensing your muscles and gripping his shirt like your life depended on it and then dropping back to the desk like a lifeless doll with the rapid rising and falling of your chest being the only sign that you were still alive.

Javi had watched you falling apart with pleasure and now found that it was time for his own release which was why he grabbed your upper arm, pulled you up and then pushed you to the floor again. He had to move your weak body to his liking because you were so powerless that it looked like you weren't even aware of what was happening but Javi didn't care. He yanked your head back adjusting it so it was on the same level as his dick and started to pump himself in front of your face while letting out deep growls.

"Fuck… oh fuck, yes," he groaned and then eventually shot his load on your face.

You twitched when the seed hit your cheek and pressed your already closed eyes tightly together so his cum wouldn't burn in your eyes but Javi seemingly had different plans because he gently slapped your cheek, then clasping his hand around your chin.

"Open your eyes," he groaned having serious problems to form a sentence as he was still savouring his high but then once he was done Javi sighed out watching this piece of art what was you kneeling in front of him and reached to his desk to grab a tissue.

First, he cleaned his hands and then took hold of your wrist and placed the tissue in your hand.

"Clean yourself."

Javi always was like this after the two of you had fucked. If you wanted aftercare or even just a little bit of softness after sex Javi Pena was the wrong person to interact with but after having slept with him twice you didn't expect anything else. Now he would probably wait for you to clean your face and get dressed and then throw you out without saying a single word of kindness.

At least he had given you a tissue, you thought as you blindly – you had closed your eyes after feeling a drop of his seed gliding down your forehead - brought the fabric to your chin to start to rub but before you could Javi spoke up again.

"Wait," he said taking hold of your hand preventing you from cleaning your skin.

"Let me take a picture of this," he said with his husky voice and you complied sitting still while waiting for him to finally be done but it felt like forever until you heard the clicking sound of his camera.

"There you go… So goddamn pretty," he whispered beyond satisfied with how you looked with his cum all over your face and now you finally were allowed to clean your face.

You heard Javi move around the room probably collecting his clothes and when you carefully opened your eyes he was already dressed watching you with raised eyebrows. Feeling intimidated by him you quickly tried to rise to your feet almost stumbling on your wobbly legs but managed to support yourself by holding on to the desk.

"I have some more work to do," Javi said while reaching to the pack of cigarettes to light himself another one.

"Yes. Of course," you whispered picking up your clothes as well and then putting them on.

Javi smoked peacefully the dominant smell filling your senses and then when you were done you did something you had never done before and approached Javi to kiss his cheek.

"Goodnight."

If he was surprised he didn't show it but you knew he was a master at hiding any kind of vulnerability so you didn't waste any more time overthinking it and instead made your way to the door.

But before you could reach it you were yanked back, turned around and the next things you felt were Javi's lips on your forehead pressing a soft kiss to your skin and his thumb tracing your cheekbone.

"Goodnight, babygirl."

You gulped loudly but as quickly as it had happened Javi had already pulled away and walked over to his desk while you watched him for a second before turning around again.

And then you left his office praying to god that this wouldn't be the last time he had touched you, and something told you the odds weren't too bad.

[amya-da-dp]

thinking about how different things would have been if Viren had actually used Sorens heart for the spell in the Sol Regem attack.

Fist we have Soren. How did he convince his father to do it? Maybe he let Viren do it, gripping his father’s arm to steady him, accepting his fate. But if he couldn’t convince his father to do it? Maybe he did it himself; raising his own sword, looking Viren in the eye, and making the choice for him. What were his last words? Were they convincing his father to do it, ‘you have to, do whats right for once in your life’ Or maybe he didn’t say anything at all. Maybe he just smiled, making sure the last thing his father saw was that Soren didn’t hate him for it. Did he spend the last seconds of his life thinking about his loved ones he was leaving behind? He thinks of everyone as he draws his sword, thinking of them happy and safe, concentrating on that for strength. As he feels the blade pierce his skin he thinks of everyone hes leaving behind, everything hes loosing, but he knows he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s happy that his friend’s family will be ok, even if it means they have to be ok without him.

Then we have Viren, obviously him sacrificing himself was character development and i personally really like that he truly became a better person, not forgivable, but better and we saw this by him sacrificing himself and no one even ever finding out. In canon, Viren’s sacrifice was almost poetic; redemption in the shadows, something no one would ever know. Now that thats out of the way, how would using Sorens heart affect Viren? Did he have any last words to Soren? “I… I never wanted this.” or “You were always so much stronger than I realized.” or maybe he says nothing; maybe he can’t speak because his own son is dying in his arms. How did he take Sorens heart? By using his own sons sword? Soren draws his sword silently either shoving it into Virens arms or taking care of it himself. Did he take his own life as well after the spell was completed? Maybe. If not immediately, then eventually. A man like Viren, who was so focused on taking care of his family he destroyed them, wouldn’t be able to bear the weight of that decision forever. If he lives, even for a short time after all of this, he finally understands the price of power. Maybe he just walks away, a broken man, carrying the weight of what he did.

and last we have how everyone else reacted.

Claudia: Maybe she never finds out the truth, Aaravos hides it from her, or forms some kind of twisted lie. Maybe she’s told by Aaravos that Soren died fighting Sol Regem. Shes absolutely shattered. Losing Soren alone would be devastating, but if she knew Viren was responsible? That could go one of two ways: She completely turns on Viren, no longer seeing him as her family. or, the more likely one. She convinces herself it was necessary and doubles down on dark magic, becoming even more ruthless. Trying to make Sorens sacrifice ‘mean’ something.

Corvus: He isn’t the kind of man to cry easily, but he would for Soren. Not just a quiet cry, an absolute gut wrenching cry. People have to physically check if hes breathing ok, his cry is so painful. Because Soren wasn’t just another fallen soldier: he was a friend, his closest friend, someone who deserved so much more than what he got. And I think, more than anything, Corvus would make sure Soren was remembered. Not as Viren’s son, not as the ‘musclehead’ of Katolis, but as the man who was brave, kind, and ultimately, a hero.

Ezran: he would probably grieve the loss in his own quiet way, after a huge breakdown, but I imagine this would harden him as a ruler. He stops letting people be closer to him. Not only was Soren his friend, and trusted guard, but he was Ezrens older brother.

Callum: Soren was one of his closest friends. Callum would be furious at Viren, probably even at Claudia if she defended him. Callum probably feels like he could have saved him. He wishes he could have been there to stop Viren, to convince Soren there was another way. Hell, maybe even sacrifice himself, using his magic to combat the dragon before the battle ever starts.

Rayla: He was a idiot, but he was her idiot. She suspects something’s off. When she finds out the truth, she would hate Viren in a way she never had before. She would spend forever tracking him down, and making sure he is dead, never stopping until she has confirmation. Viren took another family member from her. He took her older brother, she won’t rest until she knows hes gone. A part of her would convince herself that she hated Soren himself, once she knew it was his decision. How could he leave them? how could he choose this? but of course she can never hate him, he had a kind heart and sacrificed himself to save so many lives. Rayla just wishes she could save his life.

[revalentinee]

Rejuv musings about Melia (spoilers up through .karma files!)

One of my favorite little bits of characterization for Melia is during chapter 9, where you get the chance to read her diary from while she was in the past. She doesn't sound like how we're used to-she's rude, swears a lot, and is just angry at everyone around her for the sudden downturn her life has taken. The thing is, this is meant to be private. It immediately reframes Melia's kindness and patience not as some supernatural part of herself, but as something she works to maintain. She cares because she tries. It's a much more realistic take on this type of character than others that fall into the same tropes. It's why when she does crack, when she is angry and swearing and violent, it wasn't surprising to me-it felt like a natural escalation for her character.

Now, let's talk about M2. I've heard criticism of this version of the character on how she's apparently nothing like the Melia we knew, and I was definitely wary of that going into .karma files, but the more I saw of her the more I saw the Melia we knew in her. Yes, she did try to abandon all pretenses of being polite and kind. She did say she'd go along with the Renegade Interceptor's plans of destroying the world. She concocted a whole (s)hit list of people she wanted dead.

But, that care is still part of her. She only went after people who had wronged her. She let Ren go, who apologized for even the things this version of himself didn't do. She was greatly affected by Mildred's death-someone who she knew for an evening tops, but who stuck her neck out for M2 just because they were friends. A friendship that M2 formed on her own, that wasn't conditional on them already knowing this Melia.

She's every bit as kind, selfless, and caring as this world's Melia. And she's just as willing to destroy for what she thinks is right as 'M1' was.

Because Melia is. And Melia would.

[dilfdater420]

cecil fluff alphabet 🤔

I didn't mention this the last time you requested, but by the universe are your images funny I love them.

As always, thank you for requesting!

#dilfdater420 : answering asks! Cecil Stedman fluff headcanons through the alphabet. maybe sweet enough to rot your teeth? this is formatted as if you're dating/married to him. gender neutral reader. "___" used in place of y/n. may be a little OOC, i'm sorry! not beta read we die like... you know who...

A - Affirmation

Cecil works day and night, 24/7 for the safety of the human race and Earth. At times, it can feel like you're getting in the way, taking time away from what is more important.

However, Cecil would rather die than let you feel this way. He'd let you know that you're just as, if not more important to him than his job. You're his only break in the day, something positive amidst the chaos. It's integral to him.

B - Bald

He's balding, all stress related too. After someone at work pointed it out, he confided in his now lowkey insecurity about it. You try to tell him that it's not a big deal, and he looks fine, but he can't help but think about it at least a little.

You telling him he still looks fine as a mug makes him feel better though.

I have a feeling Cecil would use it as a way to get compliments and affection from you without outright saying it. He's old, old guys love to avoid being completely transparent with their needs.

C - Chicken

I have a headcanon that he's from the south, specifically Kentucky, so he absolutely loves his chicken (and food in general) well seasoned. He can't have it any other way or he will throw a fit. And if that does happen, it's super funny to see him hangry. He'd have his signature frown, a bib he clipped to his dress shirt, a glare at the food, and his arms crossed.

D - Down (to Earth)

Cecil is a very practical man, taking things in as they come. He's always working pro-actively, never waiting for something else to come and lead him in the right direction.

This bleeds over to you. When you both were starting to date, the way he got a first date was not by flowers and nervousness, he was very blunt about it: "Hey, I'm going to say this outright because life is too precious to hesitate: I like you. I think you like me too. Can I take you to dinner?"

It definitely doesn't work for everyone.

E - Elated

When he gets happy, it's noticeable. His smile reaches up to his eyes, and he loosens up. In fact, him being delighted can make him tired since he's stopped tensing up. It's like the weight of the world is lifted off his shoulders, which is more literal than figurative.

In particular, say it's Valentine's Day. You're both at home in the living room, and you're giving each other your gifts. You'd already given him his gift, and you're currently opening the one he's given you. Before you can even tell him how much you love it, he's passed out on the couch.

F - Faithful

Is very committed to you and only you.

One of my personal headcanons is that Cecil loves love and values the close relationships he has with others more than the other party might understand (i.e. Cecil bringing Donald back from the dead).

So, say there's a scenario where you might feel a little insecure that you're away from him so often and that he might be cheating--he'd swiftly nip that misconception in the bud. It'd be a very serious conversation with hard boundaries on that being set.

He'd never forsake you, his whole heart, for momentary pleasure.

G - Gentle

Yes, he's practical and blunt, this was the case back in the letter D, but that doesn't mean he's not considerate with it. He'd treat you like a gentleman.

Him being upfront (most of the time, we'll get into that) means he cares, not that he has a lack of tact. Like if you two were shopping and you were modeling outfits you might want to buy, and he didn't like any of the ones you tried on, he'll tell you he doesn't like it. Not like "I don't like any of these, you should try on some other clothes." It'd be like, "Sorry ___, to be honest, I don't like any of the ones you've showed me so far. I feel like they don't really fit you, can we go look for some other ones?"

H - Hard-Headed

He's very stubborn. When he's stuck in his ways, he's very unmoving in that viewpoint.

Once something clicks, it clicks forever until there's some situation when he's forced to re-evaluate his ideas, which doesn't come often.

With you, he's a similar way. It can lead to some strong discussions on outdated opinions on the world that shouldn't be held anymore. Nothing serious like human rights or something, just little stupid stuff like the Monopoly Man definitely having a monocle or how he won't even try Wingstop because, "Kentucky Fried Chicken is the best".

Compromise is only made when his hand is forced.

I - Icy

Sometimes Cecil can be quite cold.

He thinks in a calculated nuance at work, and it's hard for him to relax that part of him sometimes when he's with you. He tries but the man is stressed out! Having the whole world under the care of you and your annoying heroes is a lot.

J - Jazz

He loves music, and I have a strong feeling that jazz (and country but that's not at the forefront) is a genre he's been accustomed to since childhood in the south.

Since he's a boomer, I could see him being born in the midst of the boom, which would be the 1950's. This era was characterized with a shift to rock and roll through the lens of things like rhythm and blues, i.e. jazz.

Since the (white) south was y'know, not cool with black music (which is rock and roll) they listened to the thing they just got accustomed to: jazz. And he loves that shit

I feel like he'd have a little dream of being like the big wigs and going to a jazz bar in NYC, surrounded by alcohol, love, and sweet tunes. He'd take you there as a treat one evening, and it would be grand.

K - Kiss

I headcanon that he was a bit of a player back in the day, not a lot though. Like he didn't have a revolving door of people every day, but maybe about 10 partners a year? (He could've also went undercover for operations that might've gotten a little freaky, but I digress. Would love to talk more about this full length if anyone's interested.)

So to that respect, he knows how to kiss, and how to do it well. His style of smooching changed as he got older, he got more tender, less cocky. But that same passion permeates through his kisses.

L - Lazy

He hates lazy, relaxing is hard for him. It was frowned upon to lounge around when he was a kid (southerner on a FARM? trifling...), and it's even more frowned upon now in his line of work. He's always doing something whenever he is home, whether it's tidying you both's room, washing the dishes, doing the laundry, etc.

Even with all the money he has he refuses to hire someone.

M - Money

Speaking of money, Cecil's dough is so large that he probably doesn't know what to do with it. Every time he teleports it's over 7 billion, and he couldn't care less! He teleports all the time!

In your relationship, you don't even have to work for a day in your life. He provides everything! And working is frowned upon anyway, because it could allow people to find your relationship out and use it against him.

For the readers that might want to do more than be a house spouse (/are like Debbie), you and Cecil would have to find a workaround that doesn't include a public establishment with easily broken records. Perhaps the government? But even they're flimsy. Regardless, despite his hatred of compromises, you both would find a way that worked.

Also, depending on if he even let you know what his real job was or not, he'd still be acting in the same way. He'd just go about you working in different ways.

N - Nocturnal

His sleep schedule is probably incredibly off from where it should be. He lives on melatonin and caffeine. This can make for some long nights where he wants to talk to you before the melatonin kicks in, and you're hanging to consciousness for dear life so you can listen.

O - Oblique

Whenever Cecil discusses his work, it's very vague.

Depending on if he tells you what he actually does or not, because I feel like he could do either or, he's the same.

He doesn't want his work life to bleed into his normal one. Something that brings him peace shouldn't be tainted with chaos. He loves you dearly, but his world wouldn't, so he saves you from it as much as he can.

P - Petnames

Since he's a southerner, "darlin'" is most definitely his favorite. You make his real self come out, the one not polished to be "professional" and lack his accent.

His runner up? Love. He loves love, so he should call you what he loves.

And finally, his third favorite has got to be hun and hunny--I just have a feeling.

Q - Quality-Time

His time with you is precious, considering he doesn't get much.

It's become one of his core values in life, so he cherishes whatever he can get with you at any time.

R - Romance

Yes, he loves you, but is he the smooth, romantic type? No.

In fact, he might fumble a little whenever he tries to do that. This could look like surprising you to a night of champagne and a trail of flowers leading to the living room more often than Valentine's, but that isn't his style.

But if you liked it, he'd at least make an effort. That's the type of "romantic" he is.

S - Snuggles

In the sterile world Cecil works in, and the touchy world he'd grown up in, he'd be a touch loving man. In fact, with the right amount of whiskey, he might see you laying down someplace and jump on top of you for a hug like the "oh boy it's smooching time!" Link and Zelda animated scene.

Here's the clip for reference: https://youtu.be/zPAo6mW3WYE?si=ZXziBHDO5Vd6IoIX

T - Timeless

When he loves someone, he loves like there is no tomorrow. With the reality of his world often being bleak, and with the amount of time he gets to see you, whenever he does see you, his love is very purposeful and full.

U - Unspoken

His communication skills only activate in things he deems truly serious. But when it comes to "little things" like his emotions or stress, it's something that goes unspoken.

It takes a lot for him to really open up.

To put it in perspective, he calls therapists "shrinks".

V - Vacation

He can't have a vacation; it'd just be a hibernation where he catches up on the years' worth of sleep he hasn't gotten. And that's if he's with you, since you make him elated.

W - Warmth

He grew up in the south, he loves warmth. But up working in the Pentagon can get cold, and he absolutely hates it.

This can look like Cecil snuggling up when Mark was doing his training in the artic.

So as soon as he gets home in the winter months, he's turning up the temperature and you can't do anything to change his mind. Your sauna is his normal.

X - XOXO

Sometimes he'll have to leave for work in the middle of the night, so he'll leave you a note in the kitchen for you to read.

Somewhere along the track of his life, he learned that you put XOXO under your letters without learning how that makes him sound.

Depending on the reader, you might not have the heart to tell him that doing that makes him sound like a little girl writing her first crush a note.

Y - Yearning

When he's not with you he thinks about you and wants to be with you. He wants to know what you're doing, shoot you a text, get a picture back maybe? He just wants you.

Z - Zephyr

Last but not least, he loves walks in the outdoors. Feeling a nice soft breeze to carry some of the sweat away with his love is his kryptonite. It always reminds him of what's important, of what he's protecting.

You, the answer is always you.

a / n : heyyy

I am always open to critiscm especially since it's my first time doing something like this. Not too confident but, I'm being honest with how I see his character and I think that some of that can resonate with my fellow Cecil enjoyers.

On that note, lemme know if you liked it. I also have a huge fear and pet peeve with OOC-ness, so please, help me out! lol

Anyways, thank you, and lemme know if you want me to elaborate on my ideas with any of the letters. My thoughts have been shortened down to little bite-sized pieces for this post.

[evermarch]

Curious if there are any parts of SOTR that you don’t like or that may have negatively affected your impression/understanding of the rest of the series as a result?

i’ve gotten a LOT of variations of this question recently! i still haven’t fully sorted out my thoughts and feelings about this book, especially because i haven’t finished my five-book reread to help place everything in context. so for right now, i’m just going to focus on one thing i feel like i can adequately verbalize. if you don’t want to see criticisms of sotr, do not keep reading (and i figured out how to line break just for y’all who don’t).

speaking as someone who liked sotr a lot, the whole lou lou thing is not sitting well with me ngl. and i’m not even focusing on the implications of the earpiece or the drugging chest implant. of course, recasting a tribute is sickening on every level and completely within, as gale would say, the capitol rulebook. but in the narrative sense, this new body-doubling ability feels like an improper use of diabolus ex machina, because there was no real explanation of how it was done or reason given for why it doesn’t happen at all in the trilogy.

i think it’d work better for me if lou lou had been described as less physically identical to louella, or better, if it was explained that this measure was not so easily taken. yes, snow says they were lucky with the body double. but haymitch describes lou lou as exactly like louella, just without her essence. the physical distinction he later draws regarding the boniness of her wrists is explained by starvation. was the original girl just that similar? so similar that it could potentially confuse her family? what would the capitol have done if they didn’t have someone who looked enough like louella? the fact that there’s no real answer to this question implies that creating almost perfect replicas of people can be done easily, quickly, and at will.

that ability raises a lot of questions about the trilogy. if the capitol is capable of modifying a human being to this extent, especially in such a short timeframe, why didn’t it happen to others? why not katniss and/or peeta after the victory tour? why not any of the other victors? why not peeta or johanna or annie in the capitol? or, at least, why not drug them with the chest implant or inject them with an earpiece? or was it done, and we don’t know who’s real or not real? i know we’re asked to suspend disbelief with a lot of the science in this series, especially the biology (mutts) and medicine (peeta’s whole force field incident). but this one is a few steps past what i can logically justify.

i understand that haymitch’s perspective is narrow. but it’s part of the responsibility of a prequel to establish and/or conform to the limitations of the main story universe. i truly think it would have played so much better if snow had made some overt comment about how they can’t usually manage such a good double on such short notice or suggested that they had to use some finite resource (even a lot of money) to pull it off. at least then we could understand why such a powerful tool that would’ve solved so many of the capitol’s problems in the trilogy is never used again. especially in a story heavily featuring twins, i feel like this ability could have been utilized or explained better.

[gothamite-rambler]

Batman and Catwoman acting like they're in their 20s and dating

Nightwing was discussing the crime situation in Blüdhaven, detailing how they should handle it. Most of the team was listening intently when, after a few seconds, Catwoman jumped up, giggling, and playfully grabbed her bottom.

Catwoman: You naughty boy!

Batman: My hand was going for your hip.

Catwoman: Not with that squeeze!

Batman and Catwoman laughed and shared a kiss, much to the clear discomfort of the Batboys. Red Robin even had to turn on his heel, staring off into the distance and whistling. Red Hood tapped his gun against his helmet, anxiously waiting for the subject to change.

Nightwing (blushing): No, no, no, not now! I can't afford to document this in my journal. Please, act like you guys usually do!

Batman: You're right, Nightwing. Continue.

Nightwing (turning away): Okay… so, if we split up, we can cover more ground—

Red Hood: They ran off the moment you said "split up." So… we won't be seeing that happen.

Red Robin sighed, whimpering as vivid mental images flooded his mind.

Red Hood (nodding): Yeah, I can't shake the images either. Why do they act like this when they're with us? Is it punishment for something?

Red Robin: I don't know anymore, but I blame Nightwing.

Nightwing: I didn’t do anything! I was just a cute kid. They’re probably on that medicine that heals Batman quickly, but gives him the mindset of a horny twenty-year-old. Yeah she wanted to try it after going through some post-fight back pain.

Red Robin: Oh, I’m going to stab my eyes out if I walk in on that again.

Red Hood: They went east, so we should probably head west. Far away from all of that, because I’m going to mind-wipe myself if I see it.

With that, Red Robin and Red Hood walked off together, leaving Nightwing to go north for two reasons: to avoid the chaos and to salvage what was left of their mission. Meanwhile, Batman and Catwoman investigated the area together, acting like a cutesy couple far too into public displays of affection.