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nicestgirlonline · 7 months

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Something Sweet

Pairing: Sugar Daddy! Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut ahead!!! Thigh riding, public stuff, dirty talk, sugar relationships, power dynamics, dom/sub undertones

Word Count: 4.9K

Summary : A chance run in with a handsome stranger turns out to be the opportunity of a lifetime

a/n: for @the-slumberparty September Bingo Challenge! No bingo for me this round, I got it in JUST UNDER THE WIRE! Takes me waaaaayyy to long to write lol. Thanks for reading, I’d love your feedback! Reblogs and comments are love <3

You placed the candy bar on the counter in front of the very bored cashier. You dug through your purse and pulled out your debit card and handed it over. A queue had started to form behind you as you tapped your hand in anticipation.

“Declined.” The cashier said, holding out the card for you. Your stomach dropped. You were afraid this was going to happen. You were so sure that you had enough in your account for at least a candy bar. You had paid the overdraft fees from last month, so you should have been set. Your stomach gurgled a bit. You were so hungry.

“Um, can you try it again?” You asked, hoping it was some sort of mistake, that the bank was just a little slow to catch up with your account. She let out a sigh and placed it in the machine again.

You could feel the stares behind you. You looked back at the line; directly behind you was a tall man dressed in a suit, checking his watch. He looked like he must be very important. He had dark brown hair that was neatly styled and just a touch of a five o’clock shadow. It was incredibly handsome. His icy blue eyes flicked from his Rolex to you, making you quickly turn back to the cashier.

“Declined. Again.” The cashier handed it back this time with a look insisting you take the card from her. Humiliated, your cheeks began to turn red.

“Sorry.” You mumbled as you shoved your card back into your purse so you could clear the shop as quickly as possible. In your haste, you accidentally ran into Mr. BusinessMan. You collided with his body like a brick wall. “Sorry! I’m so sorry! Fuck I’m a mess.” You cried out as you ran past him this time.

You ran directly out onto the street, the cool air filling your lungs. You dropped down onto the curb to spend a minute catching your breath. You could feel your heart still racing, your body going into fight or flight mode.

Money, money, money. It all always came back to money. If you didn't have the money for a god damn candy, how were you going to make rent in less than two weeks? Tears threatened to escape your eyes and you squeezed them shut.

Here you were, no food in your stomach and soon to be no roof over your head. You looked at your phone, a flip phone from 2013 that miraculously still worked. The last text you had gotten was from your mom “Fridge broken. Send more this month.”

God fucking damn it.

“Hey! I think you forgot this.” A deep voice called out behind you. You turned to see the business man from the shop! Confused, you grabbed your purse and checked to make sure you hadn’t left your keys or something. The man held the bar you had left at the counter. He held it out to you. You didn’t go to grab it, you just stared.

“Oh. Um, you didn’t have to…” You began but he squatted down next to you and placed the candy on your lap.

“We all have bad days. Doesn’t cost me nothing to be nice. You look like you deserve something sweet.” He had a very kind smile on his face. It did cost him something though, it cost him more than what was currently in your bank account. “You ok?”

“I’m…I’m ok. I’m going to be ok. Thank you, really.” You could feel the tears spilling over and you started to wipe your face so he wouldn’t see.

“You must really like candy to be crying over it.” He lightly joked, which only made you want to cry more. You let out a little laugh that sounded more like a strangled gasp. It was so overwhelming, the simple act of charity.

“It’s just…really really nice of you.” You gasped, the tears finally flowing freely. “I don’t remember the last time anyone has ever given me something…I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, hey, you’ve got nothing to apologize for.” He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder to comfort you. “I’m James.”

You gave him your name, finally ceasing your tears. You took a deep breath, you couldn’t just fall apart in front of this kind stranger, he was probably running late to some sort of business meeting anyway.

“You have a way to get home?” he asked, he pulled out his phone and began to tap on it. You nodded your head.

“Yes, yes I do. I have money left on a bus card, really thank you so much James.” He smiled at you when you said his name. He placed his phone back into his suit jacket. He took your hand and helped you up. With your spiral into darkness slightly stalled, you took in your savior. He was so classically handsome. When you looked into his blue, blue eyes you felt like you were drowning in them. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, your heart raced.

“Get home safe, alright doll?” You nodded, clutching the candy bar to your chest. You took off down the street after giving a soft goodbye. The kindness of strangers had given you more hope than you had in a long time.

You idly wondered about James as you ate on the bus. Your money problems were still lingering in the back of your mind but your thoughts were clear.

You tore open the candy bar, taking a bite of the delicious treat. The chocolate melting on your tongue, the sugary sweetness coated your mouth. You got a rush from the sugar and let out a sigh.

Maybe things were going to be ok, it was a sign that the universe was on your side.

{}{}{}

You put on your waitress face and did your best to keep up the highest energy tonight. You were all bubbles and giggles throughout the shift. You would smile and laugh at every lame joke a customer would tell you.

Half way through your shift the place was packed. You should be grateful it was busy, you were getting good tips but hadn’t had a moment to breathe since you walked out onto the floor. You carefully balanced a tray of shots and an order of bacon-wrapped dates to drop off before you made it to the party that just sat down in your section. The hostess had put them back in the booth that was partially tucked away with velvet curtains. Big spenders for sure. You smoothed down your dress and tossed your hair over your shoulders as you made your way over.

“Hiii how are we doing tonight Gentle--” You began your usually bubbly opener, voice high pitched and energetic but as you took in who was sitting in front of you, you stumbled.

James. Your candy savior. The bodega hero. Him and three other men were waiting to be served. He was wearing a new suit, this one with no tie and a few buttons undone from his shirt. Damn he could really rock a suit, he filled this one out perfectly too. FUCK.

“Ahem, excuse me gentlemen. So what can I start you off with?” You quickly recovered, grabbing your pad and pen and focusing your eyes on the paper. You prayed that with your heavy makeup and fluffed up hair that maybe he wouldn’t recognize you, or maybe just wouldn’t even remember.

“Hey there sweetheart, hope my good looks didn’t startle you.” His charming grin grew as you bashfully waved your hand at him.

“Oh I'm used to handsome, it's just a little busy in here tonight. Are we just starting out the night? Maybe with some shots?” You offered with a grin of your own. He seemed pretty pleased with your flattery. James was silent as the other two ordered a round of shots, his gaze was fixed on you. You went to turn to put the order in but as you went James’s hand shot out and he grabbed your wrist.

You froze and stayed.

“Hold on a minute Doll, you didn’t take my order yet.” His voice was low and easy. You lightly moved your hand out of his grasp to put pen to paper. You nodded to him hoping to get his order. “I want a whiskey. Neat. And bring the whole bottle out.”

“Whoa, we’re getting bottles tonight?”

“Sounds like you guys are going to have some fun!” You said quickly writing down the order with a flourish. This time you managed to escape to put the orders in. As you waited by the bar for the orders you felt your heart racing. It wasn’t just the adrenaline of the fast paced night. Seeing James again had put you completely off kilter. It was humiliating, the last time he saw you, you were crying in the street. He must find you so pathetic. If he even recognized you?

James and his party stayed practically til closing, ordering more and more. The bill they were racking up was so notable that Jeremy himself came out to thank them for their patronage. The other girls were all playfully jealous, it wasn’t you who could normally hook in the big spenders like that.

“Sadly, it seems we’ve got to end it here. Little guy can’t hold his liquor.” James said motioning to the one you learned was named Sam.

“M’fine.” He slurred. The blonde man who was called Steve laughed and threw an arm around him as he swayed. The two made their way to the exit leaving you alone at the table with James. He smiled at you expectantly. You just wanted the night to be done with.

“Whenever you’re ready!” you placed down the bill on the table.

“Hold on Doll, I’m ready now.” He pulled out a shiny black card from his wallet, and quickly scribbled down on the receipt. You took the card with a smile, ready to go charge it. You glanced down on the tip and your eyes nearly fell out of your head.

He had given you a 100% tip.

“Problem?” He asked, innocently cocking his head to the side. You glanced at the bill again, rereading it as slowly as you could to try to make sure you weren’t mistaken.

“I think you might have mixed up the tip and the total-”

“No mistake. I’m tipping for the fantastic service.”

“I really don’t know how comfortable I am with that James. Is this because of this morning?” Your voice was pathetically small.

“Oh so you do remember me?” He asked flatly. You looked up at him. His sudden tone made your stomach clench.

“I mean…of course I do but that’s not very professional of me. I’m sorry-” You immediately tried to amend the situation. This was somehow your fault, you could tell.

“You apologize a lot. You don’t have to be sorry for getting something you want.” James’s tone was no longer angry.

“I don’t need pity.”

“It's not pity, Doll. You gave me a service and now I’m paying you what I think is fair. I know you probably aren’t used to people giving you what you’re worth. You probably don’t even know what your worth is, do you?” When his icy blue eyes met yours it was like you were really being seen for the first time. You loved it as much as you hated it.

“I’m not…I’m not worth anything much. Here’s your card sir, have a good night.”

You ran off, your face hot with humiliation.

{}{}{}

You had hoped that would be the end of it. Even with the insane tip from James you were still on the outs with your money. Now that rent could be made there was the electricity, gas, and water. Then the money you would send back to your family, oh and food for yourself. You couldn’t forget that. You kept all ten shifts that you had managed to beg Jeremy for. The big night with James made him much more amenable to your requests.

It was only for a split second but you saw him at the hostess table. With two different men at his side, there stood James for the second night in a row. You whipped your head around and scurried to the back.

“Wanda, he’s here again. Again!” You squealed to your co-worker who was just preparing to start her shift.

“Who, Mr. Moneybags? Well aren’t you lucky.” She said, giving you a playful glare.

“I don’t want to deal with him again. Please take my table?” you pleaded.

“Don’t need to ask me twice, I’ll be getting that nice tip tonight.” She tossed her coppery hair over her shoulder and smoothed down her dress one final time before strutting out onto the floor.

He wasn’t here for you, you told yourself. You were just being paranoid. Wanda was going to have all of them eating out of her hands by the end of the night, you told yourself as you started out towards your first table. You pushed it from your mind.

But you couldn’t help but glance over to his table, and the glance was more than enough to see that James was not happy. Wanda and her incredible curves didn’t seem to distract him at all. You could see her laughing and chatting but James was a dark cloud.

Fine, who cares, he was going to give Wanda a ludicrous tip because he was a generous tipper. He wasn’t pitying you, he wasn’t trying to give you charity, that's just who he is. You scamper towards the kitchen to put in your orders and hopefully hide out a while.

Wanda came back towards the kitchen, placing her orders and grabbing the food that was ready. Her beautiful smile fading into a line when she made eye contact with you.

“They were really really insistent that it has to be you tonight. Even just to go over and say hi. ” She said, her tone was dry. Nervous butterflies erupted in your stomach. You bit your lip. What could this possibly mean?

{}{}{}

You were normally pretty steady in your heels, but the floor was suddenly uneven as you approached James’s table.

“Well hi there, gentlemen. I-I can take your drink orders tonight. Give Wanda a hand.” You babbled, trying not to flub over any words.

James smirks at you victoriously. He doesn’t need to say anything, his eyes say it all. He had gotten his way.

The party once again racked up a ridiculous tab. Nothing was stopping him. The rest of the table had cleared out quickly, leaving just you and James.

He opened his wallet and laid out the tip, bill by bill. He pushed the fat stack to you, not breaking eye contact once.

It was multiple hundred dollar bills, but you were too stunned to count. The anxiety that had been building since you first caught a glimpse of James again finally came bursting out of you in a tidal wave. You tossed the cash back on to the table.

“Please stop. I can’t…I can’t keep doing this, I don’t know what you expect from me.” You gasped, allowing your facade to crack as you stared up at him with tears wetting your eyes.

You weren’t scared. But you were confused. This sort of attention must have meant he wanted something from you and…you were fairly certain of what that was.

“This is how this business works, you did something for me, and I paid for your services.”

“I -- I--” Your breath was caught in your throat as he leaned closer to you to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Poor thing, you’ve never been treated well in your whole life, have you? I know why you’re so nervous. You’re not stupid, you're really smart. I don’t expect anything from you tonight.”

He took a breath and it was like he was stealing the air right from your lungs. “But. I would like to make an offer, if you’d be interested. I just want one hour of your time.”

“I’m not a whore.”

He caught your chin in his hand and made you look back at him, his eyes dark and humorless.

“What an ugly word. Nobody’s calling you that doll. Have dinner with me.” His thumb traced over the apple of your cheek.

{}{}{}

One hour of your time. You kept thinking about it over and over again. It was just one hour. This ostentatiously wealthy man was paying you to have dinner with him. It’s not a crime. But it felt so dangerous. Sneaky and dirty. Part of it was terrifying but it was also…exciting.

This restaurant was leaps and bounds above your place of work. It was all very classy. You tugged on your skirt just a bit, hoping you weren’t going to stick out. You were brought through the restaurant, up some stairs to a private party room. It was a huge table, with only two places set, a glow with dozens of candle’s soft light. The walls were all windows, looking over the restaurant the other a breathtaking view of the city.

James was waiting for you when you arrived. He looked you up and down appreciatively, his eyes lingering. He stood up like a gentleman when you got to the table. He pulled the chair out for you.

“Oh um, thank you.” You said as he pushed you into your spot once you were seated.

“No thanks necessary, Doll.” He placed the napkin from the plate on your lap before returning to the seat across from you. The waiter who brought you up took your drink orders before leaving you alone.

The door clicked closed and suddenly there was a tense silence between you two. What was next? Were you supposed to say something? Or should you wait for him?

“I trust the ride over was pleasant?”

“Yeah, um, no issues at all. I’ve never been here before, any recommendations?” Why were you so awkward? Should you be seductive? Should you be professional? Was this a business transaction or a date? Every time your eyes met his he looked hungry. For you. It made you flush.

“You can get anything your heart desires. Pick out whatever has the most zeros next to the name.” He grinned. “The seabass is pretty good too.”

You wrinkled your nose a bit. “It's not too…fishy is it?”

“Well it is fish.”

“But is it fishy fish?” James laughed at that.

“It's a fishy fish. The steak is good too, but it's a steaky steak. So you know.” He joked. It made you laugh a bit too. It was like a spell was cast over you, the tension was released and your nerves vanished. The conversation flowed between the two of you easily.

Your food came, he didn’t bring up anything. He had asked for an hour of your time, because he was going to propose something to you. You had friends who had “boyfriends” who weren’t really their boyfriends. Men who would pay for the fun that night, but they got paid back in other ways.

You never had thought of yourself as that girl. But here you were. The anticipation made you nervous but you couldn’t deny the excitement.

He ordered dessert for the two of you, champagne and strawberries with cream and chocolate.

You glanced at your phone, there was about ten minutes left of “your time” that he had purchased.

“I hope I’m not so boring that you’re counting down the minutes.” James commented as you put your phone back in your purse. You shake your head.

“No I just…we have some things to discuss right? And an hour is what you asked for…”

“I am willing to pay overtime, if you’re still enjoying yourself. But if we’re down to the minute here, we should talk.” He folded his hands on the table.

“I like you, I think that we can make something together. You seem like you need some help and call me old fashioned but I just can't resist a damsel in distress. I’m a busy man, with a lot of work and a full schedule, not really much time for dating. Not a fan of the apps either. What I am looking for is an arrangement. I want a companion and can keep you very well compensated for it.”

“So you’ve had…arrangements like this before.” You asked slowly. It didn’t make much sense to you. He was so unbelievably handsome. How could he have trouble finding anyone to be with?. He filled out his clothes so well, his strong square jaw made you want to swoon. How could it be you that he wanted?

“Yes. Does that bother you?”

“I-I’ve never done anything like this before.” You admitted. You cleared your throat. “What sort of things are you looking for from your…companion.” Your eyes were suddenly very focused on the bowl of strawberries in front of you. You hadn’t had a boyfriend before, but you’d been with men. Your idea of a sugar daddy was always a creepy old man, desperate for a young thing to fuck. But he didn’t seem desperate at all. The way he pinned you with his gaze was making you feel desperate for him.

James reached out and placed his hand over yours.

“I am looking for everything. I want someone who’ll keep me company at home, someone I can buy gifts for, someone I can take out on dates.” He squeezed your hand, rubbing his thumb in circles over your wrist. “I’d like someone who’s going to stay the night too.”

Your stomach flipped. You knew what he meant.

“Ah, like, sleepovers?” You giggled nervously. “I was never allowed to have those, as a kid. I always had to watch over my siblings.”

“I didn’t have any either. Romanian immigrant parents. They didn’t really…get it?” James smiled, it was different from the grin that had been on his lips all night. It almost seemed shy. “So maybe we should make up for lost time, hm?”

“But what would it be like? Being your…companion?” You were testing the waters. He was being a bit too vague for your liking. The word sugar baby had never been said but that’s what this was going to be wasn’t it? He wasn’t asking you to be his girlfriend. But he wanted you. And you wanted him.

Should you get a contract? Or was that only something that happened in trashy romance novels?

He picked the bottle of champagne, his veins bulged in his strong grip. He easily flicked the cork off, popped the champagne with a loud bang that made you jolt. He smirked at your reaction. He poured himself a glass effortlessly then stood, walking to your side of the table. He was completely relaxed, in total control the whole time.

He towered above you as he poured the bubbling liquor into the champagne flute in front of you. You could smell the rich musk of his cologne. He picked it up to offer it to you.

“If you agree to be mine, I would take you out to nice places like this, buy you whatever you like and then we would keep having fun all night.” His eyes sparkled. Your heart began to flutter, his eyes making you feel like you were the only person on earth. And you could get anything you wanted.

You took the flute from him. You took a sip of the dry sparkling wine. It tasted expensive.

“Do you want me to quit my job?” You said plainly.

“Being CEO means I don't exactly have a 9-5 schedule and neither does a cocktail waitress. I don’t want to have to deal with scheduling around each other. Part of this is about you being available to me. You can take a leave of absence?” He was still standing, but had leaned against the table facing you. The CEO drop gave you a slight pause. You knew he was rich but…you were nervous to ask just how rich. Did it matter? You wondered to yourself. He was so handsome, you didn’t need specifics. You needed him.

“I don’t think that's an option for me.” You said trying not to roll your eyes.

“Trying not to seem too pushy Doll, but…I want you to quit your job. I’ll be your job from now on. I can cover any of the expenses you’d need a job for. Being mine means spending late nights at my apartment, weekend trips to Europe, I don’t want you to worry about anything but me. If you agree, of course.”

He held out his hand to you. “Or is my time up?”

You grabbed his hand. Your fingers interlocked. You nodded your head. James smiled and pulled you out of your seat. You quickly stood, eyes looking up into the icy blue pools that captivated you. His lips lightly pressed against yours. It was so soft and romantic, you surrendered to him easily. Your lips moved against him, assuring him, assuring yourself, you could do this.

“You know why I got the strawberries right?” He asked as he pulled away motioning to the nearly forgotten dessert.

“Yes…I’ve seen Pretty Woman. They bring out the sweetness of the champagne” You replied smartly. He laughed again. You made him laugh a lot, and every time you did your heart would race.

“I got them because I’m pretty sure you have a sweet tooth. And I thought it could be fun.” He scooped a dollop of cream onto a berry and brought it up to your lips. You obediently opened your mouth, taking a bite of the fruit. The bright, sharpness of the berry was contrasted by the fluffy sweetness of the cream. It was so decadent you needed a minute before you could take another bite.

He pressed his hands against the small of your back and guided you slowly towards him.

He eased down onto the chair, planting his feet on the floor.

He gripped your hips and pulled you to straddle his thigh. He guided you down and you followed his lead. You slowly lowered onto him.Your crotch rubbed against his thigh, you grabbed onto his shoulders to try and steady yourself. His fingers went to your dress and hiked it up to your waist.

You let out a gasp, your eyes quickly darting to the door. He grabbed your chin and pulled your focus back to him.

“You don’t have to worry about anything tonight. You just have to be mine.” He murmured, his breath fanning over your face. Your face was burning with embarrassment, you’d never been so intimate in public before.

He began to tap his heel making you bounce up and down. His hands went to your ass. The delicious friction made you bite down hard on your lip as your arousal started to mount.

“James ahh--” You tried to ask but pleasure started to rocket up your core. Your eyes rolled back as he continued to rock you on his thighs. He shushed you, burying his face in your neck. His hands finally left your hips and grasped your breasts. You moaned at the sensation. You wrapped your arms around his neck, arching your back bringing his face to your cleavage.

Your hips moved of their own volition now, faster as the sweet ache between your legs grew.

They glided over and over his thick thighs, building in speed as you chased after your high. Bouncing up and down, no longer concerned with anyone who might see.

“What do you want?” he gasped. Suddenly stopping you mid thrust, his grip on your ass held you still.

“Huh?” you whined, wiggling your hips a bit, but he held you firm.

“Tell me sweetheart, how do I close this deal, what do you want?” James whispered in your ear, letting his breath tickle you.

“I--” You took a moment. Your panties were soaked through, you could feel your slickness on his pants. You felt so wanton, but this was what you wanted. “I want my rent paid.”

“Done.”

“And I want a new phone.” He just nodded as his lips connected with your neck. You moaned as he lightly bit down on your neck alternating between pain and sweet kisses. You suddenly felt powerful, more powerful than you ever had in your life. “I also have student loans and money for savings a-and my sister’s starting high school this year and she’s going to need a laptop, so--”

His lips had finally worked your neck enough and collided with your lips. He kissed you so fiercely, so overwhelmingly hot that you completely lost your train of thought and surrendered to it.

“Deal.” he panted as he pulled away from your lips, his forehead resting against yours. You started to ride his thigh again, desperate for a release as the coils inside you wind together tighter and tighter.

“Fuck Doll that’s right, use me, ride my thigh, you’re mine now. Show you how good it is to be mine.” James grunted as you chased your high.

Waves of pleasure came crashing over you. You writhed on his thigh, your panties sticking to the sides of your walls as you collapsed forward. Pressing your head to his shoulder, you could feel him chuckling.

You liked being his. You felt small in his lap as he smoothed down your dress. He wiped some of the sweat off your brows.

You take another sip of the champagne. It wasn’t sweet, but you could get used to it.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #navy and roo's sleepover #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #sugar daddy! bucky barnes #avengers fanfic #Ceo! Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #winter solider fanfic #sebastian stan #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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lis-likes-fics · 4 months

Text

Delicious

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

Natasha had never been in this shop before.

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

You are perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Grande.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It will,” she nods simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sinful?” you mutter.

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

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

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

“Tip?” you tilt your head.

“For a beautiful girl like you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl,” she purrs.

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

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

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

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

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

So, no… no plans for you.

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

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

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

“O-Okay,” you stutter.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

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

You smile sweetly. “Always do.”

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

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

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

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

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

And you would taste divine.

“Nat.”

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head. “I won't.”

She smiles. “Goodbye, angel.”

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

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

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

She can't wait to devour you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But where was the fun in that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How precious you are. Tainted but still so unspoiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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takenbypeter · 11 months

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Anything to Make Him Smile

Bucky Barnes x reader

Words: 723

Number 24: "Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?"

Part 2 - Anything To Make You Smile

Bucky Barnes.

Practically the most stoic man you’ve ever met.

You’ve only interacted with him a few times, with you being new to the workplace and all but whenever you caught sight of him, he was frowning.

You offered him a smile each time you saw him passing in the hallways but with each time he’d just move his eyebrows slightly in acknowledgment.

The only time you’ve ever seen Bucky Barnes smile was when he was with Sam. And it wasn’t just a smile, it was almost full on laughter when those two got together.

That’s actually what first got you curious in the first place.

The first time you saw his smile you couldn’t believe it. You honestly didn’t even know it was possible that he could make that expression.

His wide toothed smile was charming yet authentic and since catching sight of it you made it a goal to try to make him smile just once. It was honestly stupid but yeah it was a goal of yours. You didn’t try too hard though, not wanting to push it or be weird about the whole situation. You’ve given him genuine compliments, tried small talk, brought him breakfast, honestly it may have been a little much but he never really cracked for you. And then it hit you, what if he just didn’t like you.

I mean you wouldn’t hold it past him, but you’ve really never given him reason to dislike you. After some more thinking you’ve realized that all the small talk, all the compliments you’ve given, what if you’re just the creepy coworker to him. And with that thought you made the decision to back off not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

You thought your lack of presence would be unnoticed. But what you didn’t know was Bucky actually found your presence appealing. At first it was annoying the way you seemed to always want to talk to him but after the first few times it became less irritating and more comforting. Most people were intimidated by him but you, you went out of your way to look for him. So when you stopped he of course noticed. He wasn’t going to say anything but he noticed.

Well this particular morning you were by the coffee machine chatting with Sam when Bucky strode up to the machine making himself a cup. Was he eavesdropping on the conversation? Maybe.

You were in the middle of the story enthusiastically running it by Sam as he sipped his morning coffee, enthralled by your tale.

Bucky listened as you told your story, and as you deliver the ending, he can’t help but feel the corners of his lips tug upwards as he stands in his little corner. Its not like the line was even funny, it’s how you delivered it and how excited you were that really got him.

Bucky thought nothing of the moment but he heard you stop. Curious he turned his head and saw you looking at him, surprise written on your face. Confused, he waited before you pointed with a grin, “have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?"

James’ smile dropped a little surprised by your sudden comment towards him, “you did! I totally just got you to smile! God do you know how long I’ve been trying to get this guy to crack for me? You make it look so easy,” you added, directing that towards Sam who’s clearly entertained by the events that were unfolding in front of him.

“You’ve been trying to make me…smile?” He asked, confirming if he heard you correctly.

“Yesss,” you held out the last consonant clearly excited, “and I finally did it, without even trying in the moment.”

Bucky stared at you like you had two heads, before grabbing a bagel from the common table, “yeah okay,” he said, taking a bite and walking away.

Sam just hit your shoulder gaining your attention, “don’t worry, he’ll come around, it took me years with that guy.”

His words gave you some comfort at least as you grabbed your mug and nodded at his words before taking a big sip of your drink.

Bucky definitely thought you were weird now but who cares?

You got him to crack and that’s all that mattered. Baby steps.

Dialogue Prompts

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littlebabyyd0ll · 6 months

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KINKTOBER DAY FOUR, TRICK OR TREAT

[i changed the plot after naming this fic, so it actually has nothing to do with trick or treating xoxo]

Your daddy takes you to a halloween party!

Daddy!Bucky x Little!Reader

Warnings: DDLG themes, lovesick Bucky, slight mention of troubled pasts.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. Enjoy!

Main Masterlist ! Kinktober 2023

On days like today, you feel like the most spoiled little girl ever. Days where you wake up in fresh sheets and next to the person that loves you the very most in the world. He treats you all day, kisses you awake and gets you dressed. Bucky’s a good man, a great man. Never once has he made you feel guilty or inadequate for all that he does for you, both as a boyfriend and as a caregiver. His heart is as big as the compound that you live in, and he reminds you every day that it is for you and you only.

Your tortured pasts brought the two of you together, brought out his need to be relied on, to have someone to take care of, and brought out your need to feel tiny and helpless, to have someone to take care of you.

You beam at him now, and he beams right back down at you. His hands are caressing your arms, slowly pulling down the sleeves of your princess costume into place. It’s pretty and pink, a shade like ballet slippers and decorated in the smallest, most minute of sparkles. He’s dressed you happily for halloween, a dress he picked out himself. Steve’s party was already in full swing, but he couldn’t help taking the extra time to make you look party-ready.

He’s dressed up too, as a shining knight.

His costume is far more tacky and cheap, but he looks as handsome as ever. You squeal on the inside — you wish that you could convey the way that you feel when you’re in this headspace, when you feel this little.

“Do you remember our rules, princess?” Your daddy asks, slowly spinning you around to lace up the back of your pretty pink dress.

“We don’t talk to people we don’t know.” You recite, playing with your fingers slowly and idly. Bucky had spent the time painting them shimmering pink, even stooped your squirming so that they turned out perfectly. “Stay close to daddy the whole time. Ask daddy if I need anything.”

He’s pleased, you can hear it in his tone. “And? One more, baby.”

You wrack your brain for a moment, wriggling your toes in your frilly little socks. Then, it hits you like lightning, “oh! Gotta say thank you to Steve for having us.”

“Good job.” Bucky muses, turning you back to face him. His hands can’t help but reach for your cheeks and squish them together, your puffy lips jutting out. “My best girl, huh? You’re such a good listener, baby, m’so proud of you.”

You’re practically glowing. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“You ready, sweet girl? Think you’ll be okay with Daddy and his friends?”

You nod brightly and raise out a small hand. Your finger protrudes outwards and beacons Bucky’s to meet it. He does, of course, linking your fingers with a great smile. Your hand looks so small compared to his bionic one, and it’s so warm, warmer than you’d think. He’s all human, and all heart.

He holds your hand as you enter Steve’s home, even keeps them connected when the blonde haired man brings him in for a hug. Your hands do lose their hold on one another when Steve’s arms swallow you whole, and when he holds you tight and lifts you up the ground. Steve’s love for you extends just as much as his love for Bucky — you saved his best friend, made his life all the more better. How could he not love you?

Steve loves you in any way that you come, and when he sees the way that you grip tightly to your boyfriend and that wide-eyed look you hold, he knows that today is the smallest form of you that comes, and he couldn't be happier. The hug that he gives you is warm and all-encompassing. “My girl!” He sings out with a laugh, swaying you in his burly arms. The raven haired man watches you both with a smile on his face. “How’ve you been, huh? You been good for your daddy?”

“Uh huh!”

“She’s always good.” Bucky insists as he takes you out of Steve's arms and plants you back onto the floor, where you instantly curl into his side. His warmth is brilliant compared to the late-october air. “My best girl, aren’t you, baby?”

“You want juice, honey, or some pop?” Your attention is stolen by Natasha, who opens her arms for a big hug. You tae her up on the offer, looking up for permission form your daddy to go and see the selection with Nat. Bucky gives you a nod and a kiss on the forehead, watching you go with a familiar look on his face.

One of the upmost love, and upmost adoration.

The blond haired man watches the ordeal with a smile of his own. He chuckles, shaking his head, “She’s real good for you, man.”

“I know.” Bucky hums, watching you blush as Natasha compliments your princess costume and straightens up your tiara. He can just about make out you complimenting her kitty cat outfit over the music and chatter. “Best thing that ever happened to me.”

You don’t manage to thank Steve that night.

Bucky carries you out of Steve’s home with his arm pushed under your butt and your tired arms loose around his neck. You’d been so good all night, obeyed by all your rules. You had stayed close to Bucky and his friends, answered all questions politely and even played board games with friends of friends. Your soul lights up the room, your giggle infectious and, just the same as every day, Bucky finds himself wondering how on earth he got to be so lucky. He’s lucky as your feet dangle around his hips and your drool dampens his shoulder. The play tiara is now sloped and wonky on your head, close to falling off. You look a bit of a mess, but the prettiest mess he’s ever seen.

Bucky lifts your sleeping form out of the car with a grunt, and sighs when he gets through the front door. He might regret it in the morning, but he lays you in bed still dressed up in your little costume, but for now, he gets to stare down at you lovingly, in your purest form, and he gets to hear your beating heart.

And for him, that is more than he could ever ask for.

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soulgazingwithbucky · 1 year

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

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Teacher!Reader

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

Warnings: flufffffff

Word count: 1k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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luvmattmurdock · 4 months

Text

perfect sense series masterlist; pietro maximoff

pietro maximoff x stark!reader

“Keep reminding me that it ain’t a race, when my invisible streak turns onto the final straight”

word count; 8.6k (not complete)

main masterlist. taglist.

part 1 You laughed at him. “You really couldn't think of any other insult than ‘silly girl’?” He stared at you. If he wasn’t so obviously mad, you would’ve thought he was checking you out.

part 2 "What is it supposed to be? Its purpose, I mean." "Ultron will be a program to promote world peace"

part 3 “Goodbye printsessa.” And he left with his superhuman speed, leaving a blue and silver aura.

part 4 You realised his piercing blue eyes were staring straight at you, which frustrated you even more because if he wasn’t so stupid maybe you could’ve banged him.

part 5 "Incredible," you said. "You're a stalker." He smiled. His smile was very pretty, and you found it especially pretty when he wasn't making fun of you.

#pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff fanfiction #pietro maximoff fluff #pietro maximoff series #pietro maximoff ff #pietro maximoff smut #pietro maximoff angst #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff fanfic #avengers x reader #the avenger #marvel cinematic universe #avengers fanfic #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #marvel x reader #pietro maximoff imagine #mcu x reader

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oneshotnewbie · 5 months

Note

Thanos throws Reader into a very cold lake. Yelena gets her out but she is freezing and hypothermia and even after Yelena and Wanda care for her after and make her a hot tea, soup, cuddle her in warm blankets etc. she is shivering.

ᕚ---ᕘ

You did not know what was happening to you when you were blown up with full force. Looking at the several meters below you, which lifted you from the ground, you had already mentally prepared yourself for death and declared your life as an Avenger to be over; no one could survive such an impact.

Your eyes shut tight, you hoped for a quick death without having to suffer. To your surprise, it was ice-cold wetness that took over you and swallowed you whole instead of the hard dirt road covered in snow. A shrill scream from Wanda, as you found yourself in free fall, was the last thing you heard before breaking through the thin ice.

Disorientated, you spent those first seconds desperately trying not to gasp as the water soaked your whole body. But the pain that ate through each of your limbs like individual needles made you do just that and the cold wet pierced your lungs before you had bitten through the deep.

The water hit your face, the cold shooting through you like a thousand tiny lightning bolts. Pain filled your body, hoping to scream and fight through. But your screams are lost in the gurgling of your lungs filling with water, your throat constricting.

The lake was hollow and had a complex depth, but you still managed to fight your way up and bring your head to the surface, where Yelena was already standing knee-deep in it, reaching out to you with a hand. With the last energy in your body, you swam onto the sandbank and the blonde pulled you the last few meters away from the water with all her strength. "Are you all right?"

With chattering teeth and lilac lips, you nodded carefully and wrapped your arms around your torso. Your fingers were stiff from the short dive and you could hardly open or close them. "I am so cold," you stuttered and watched as the red-haired witch took advantage of the distraction to decisively unleashed her magic on the mighty Titan, spurred on by the attack on you.

The warlord responsible for your fall was flooded with the red threads of her magic, slowly but surely freeing him from his armor. The look on Thanos' face as he floated into the sky was one of shock and you knew he was not enjoying his luck for long. He shattered into fine particles that swirled through the air in the icy winter wind. The Avengers, however, knew that he was far from defeated. They had all only weakened him, but by no means defeated him.

Wanda Maximoff rushed forward and dropped to her knees in front of you. "I got you," her hands rested on your shoulders, hastily rubbing your upper arms to add a touch of warmth to your freezing body. "We need to get you somewhere warm, let´s go." she whispered, still out of breath from the fight. The redhead pulled you up, grabbing you by the already crystallizing, wet sleeves and right against her, supporting you as you walked to the Helicarrier.

You were puffing hard, shaking against her chest and she pulled you impossibly closer to her, focusing on getting you to headquarters as quickly as possible to protect you from further hypothermia and the fatal consequences that would ensue. Wanda could tell you were still conscious but did not think you would remain for much longer.

When you arrived at headquarters, you lay unconscious in her arms, a warm blanket draped over your flushed body that was still shaking. "We need to warm her up slowly. Wanda, you have to get friendly with her." Tony ordered and the witch looked at him questioningly as she carried you through the hallways of the headquarters. "Warm her up with your own body heat. Embrace her, keep her close to you until she is conscious and change her wet clothes."

She nodded hastily, carefully bringing you in her own room and laying you down on her bed. Stripping off her equally wet clothes, she squeezed into her pajamas and did what she was told without question. The redhead shuffled closer to you, slipping her arm around your shoulder and carefully pulled her blanket up to your nose.

"Come on, sweetheart. Wake up," mumbled Wanda and placed her other hand on your stomach, the trembling lessening under her touch, your skin still cold and covered in goosebumps. Watching you being thrown away and disappear out of her sight was horrific. One minute you had been soundly fighting next to her, the next she was watching you fight for survival.

She hated the feeling that was building up inside her. Guilt for not protecting you enough, unsure how you were feeling and whether you would be okay or not. Wanda was afraid, she did not want to lose you.

The door opened with a bang and made the redhead flinch. Her eyes darted to the door and she smiled when it revealed none other than the blonde who stormed into the room with an entire tablet in her hands. "I have three different types of hot tea, a hot water bottle and lots of blankets. Soup is on the stove and boiling."

"Thanks, Yel."

"How is she doing?" she asked at the same time and sat down at the end of the wide bed. Her hand slid over your covered lower legs, caressing them anxiously. During their conversation, they did not even notice that you had opened your eyes a crack. You did not know where you were, nor why you felt so heavy. You were cold, but you tried to push at whatever or whoever was holding you back did not seemed to work. You had no strength.

In the distance, you heard female voices speaking, using your name in almost every sentence. "Where am I?" you asked, trying to get up. But Wanda held you tightly in her grasp, her fingers placed under your chin so you could look up at her. “Y/n, you are safe. You are in my bed.” shushed the witch, looking at you with concern.

Your eyelids fluttered open and you managed to keep your eyes fully open. Yelena and Wanda could tell that you were still unfocused, your body starting to shake harder again. "Give me another blanket, Yelena," the woman had stood up, pulling a blanket from the stack and held it out to her, who took it and nodded a thanks.

Swiftly, she pushed you up straighter and swung it around your still shivering form as the blonde poured a cup of tea and held it in front of you. You gratefully accepted it, held the cup tightly in your hand and closed your eyes to let the warmth penetrate deeper into your body. "I am sorry," you said quietly, the shivering making your voice shake.

"What for?" The two of them asked at the same time and Yelena helped you bring the edge of the cup to your lips to drink. You groaned as the warm water poured down your esophagus, warming you from the inside while resting your head on Wanda's shoulder. "Causing you problems. I could have died."

"You did not fall into the lake on purpose." pointed the blonde out and you managed to smile tiredly, placed the cup on the small bedside table and devoted yourself entirely to the redhead. Your arms wrapped around her middle while your head made itself comfortable on her chest. "Besides, you are destined to die on the battlefield as any good soldier should, not drowning in a sea."

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bucky-fricking-barnes · 8 months

Text

Reckless

Title: Reckless

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: Y/N goes on a date with Steve Rogers and, unbeknownst to him, comes to the conclusion that he’s a very gentlemanly, albeit very boring, person. However, she decides to give him a second chance before she forms her final opinion of him.

A/N: Thank you for reading and supporting me! I hope you enjoy this quick little story about our lovely Steve. Dividers are by @firefly-graphics

“So how did the date go?”

You have your head propped up with a hand under your chin, so you simply sigh and try to keep your expression neutral as you search for the words. If this were a video or phone call, your friend wouldn’t be able to read you so easily, but you know that she’s caught on already when she winces across the table from you.

“That bad, huh?” Sophia asks.

Shaking your head, you sigh again and gesture vaguely with your free hand. “It was fine. It was good, I guess. I didn’t have a bad time. It’s just…”

“What? He wasn’t a creep, was he? I thought you said he was nice!” She leans in, almost knocking her drink over as she reaches across the table for one of your fries.

“No, no, he was nice. That’s just it, though. He was just nice.”

She chews, humming around the fries as you drop your arm and finish off the rest of your drink to occupy yourself. You don’t want to say anything too specific since you know his life is already so public, so you pick up your fork again and move some of the food around on your plate. At that, Sophia raises an eyebrow, then swallows and takes a sip.

“So… Are you gonna go out with him again?”

The waitress comes by to refill your water and you both offer her polite smiles and murmur thank yous, which gives you time to consider your answer. Steve had been a nice date—an almost perfect one, at that—but that was all you could say about your time with him. Sure, he checked all the boxes. On paper, he was the perfect match for you, but in reality, there was no spark, and you’d found him fairly boring. You feel a little bad calling Steve Rogers boring, of all people, but you can’t lie to yourself about it, no matter how great a person he is.

“I don’t know. Maybe? It feels rude to judge whether I like someone or not after only one date, since everyone’s nervous on first dates, and he was really nice…” You trail off, tilting your head from side to side with a grimace. “I don’t know.”

Sophia arranges her dishes so they’re easy to collect. “Well, you don’t have to make a decision right away. I mean, it’s not like he’s asked you out again so soon already, right?” Her smile fades into a gasp of disbelief when you don’t agree, and she smacks her hand on the table. “Already? Man, this guy moves fast!”

You nod. You’d been just as surprised as she is. You hadn’t known what to say when Steve had texted you this morning, so you’d just left the message on read. Thankfully, the dating app would never tell him that, but you still felt bad about not responding right away. Hopefully, he just thought you were busy at work.

“Already. He wants to go out again tonight,” you tell her. You wince again and fall back against the booth, crossing your arms. “Am I crazy if I tell him no?”

“No! Absolutely not, you can totally tell him no. You don’t have to go out with him if you don’t want to. You’re not obligated to go on a second date with him either,” Sophia reminds you.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you dig it out, glancing briefly at the screen to make sure it’s not important. And it’s not, really, because it’s a message from Steve telling you that he won’t be offended if you decline his offer to take you out for dinner. The twinge of guilt you felt earlier is more like a stab now.

“How can someone so boring be so sweet?” you whine, more rhetorically than anything, but Sophia jumps on the question.

“Is that Steve?”

Nodding, you shove the phone back into your pocket. “Yeah. I don’t know, I’ll probably tell him yes. One more perfectly boring date can’t hurt..” You shake your head a little. “I’ll let you know what I decide to do.”

Your friend smiles and slides out of the booth, taking her bag with her. You do the same and wait for her to be ready before you walk beside her to the diner’s exit. After a quick hug, the two of you part ways and you head back to your apartment.

That night, there’s a knock at your door precisely at six o’clock, exactly when Steve said he’d be there. You sigh a little, expecting just as much, and you smooth out your dress. It’s one you haven’t worn in a long while, but you’re hoping it will inspire a reaction from him. At this point, any reaction besides the politest one would be a welcome change.

You open the door and smile when Steve meets your eyes. He smiles back, small and polite. He’s dressed well, in jeans and a white shirt, with a navy jacket over his shoulders. It’s infinitely more casual than the button-up and khakis he’d worn to your first date earlier this week, and it’s a good sign.

“Hi, Y/N. I hope I’m not early?” he asks, though you both know he’s not.

“No, it’s alright. I just need to get my shoes on. Come on in?” You step out of the doorway and gesture for him to enter. Once he’s inside, you shut the door and turn, only to find him inches closer than he was before. You inhale sharply and meet his gaze, then look down at the singular flower in his hand.

“For you,” he says. “I was afraid a bouquet would get damaged on the ride here.” He glances down at your dress and clears his throat. “I think it would probably be better if you changed into pants, too.”

You blink. “Pants? Why? What’s wrong with my dress?” This wasn’t the response or reaction you’d been hoping for. You step back a little, suddenly self-conscious about your choice in outfit.

Steve looks a bit sheepish as he hands you the flower and steps back to give you more space to breathe. “Yes. I rode my… bike.”

Raising your eyebrows, you glance over at your closed curtains. The window faces out into the street, where you know from experience most people park if they’re only staying for a short time.

“Your bike,” you repeat. He nods, and you carefully step around him to go look out the window. There is, in fact, a motorcycle parked in one of the spots. The light from the lamps reflects off the shining black and silver metal, and you let the curtain fall back into place with a quiet laugh. It seems that Steve Rogers could truly be the daredevil that some of the internet prospects him to be.

When you turn, Steve is still standing by your front door. The golden glow from the lamp by your couch casts a shadow behind him, making him seem taller and darker, but he watches you with such trepidation that he doesn’t seem as intimidating as you know he does to some.

“It’s a Harley,” he tells you.

You smile a little. “Gotcha. I guess I’ll go change, then. Just give me a minute?”

Steve nods and you hurry to your room to change into a different outfit. In a moment of panic, you drop the flower into a half-finished glass of water on your nightstand. You don’t want to make Steve stand awkwardly in your living room any longer than you have to.

With very little time to spare, you quickly change into jeans and one of your favorite tops, then head back into the living room. Steve has moved to look at your shelves, inspecting your photos, books, and knick-knacks in silence. He’s got his hands in his pockets and you watch for a second as he stands so relaxed in a foreign space.

“I’m ready if you are,” you finally say, stepping further into the room.

He turns and nods, then glances back at one of the photos. “Where was this taken?”

Frowning, you move closer so you can see, and then you smile a little. “That was back in college, at some restaurant near campus. It was this little local place that my friends and I used to go to. I think that was after one of their trivia nights.”

“You like trivia?” he asks, and you shrug.

“I’m not very great at it. Probably not as good as you—you’ve had a lot more time to study up.” Inwardly, you cringe. Steve probably doesn’t like to be reminded of his past.

There’s a beat where you and Steve stare at each other, and then he smiles at you. “That’s what Clint keeps telling me. He’s been trying to convince me to join his team. Maybe I’ll take him up on it the next time he offers.”

“That sounds like it would be fun,” you reply, nodding.

“Are you ready to go?”

You nod again and grab your things, sticking your phone into your pocket before following him out. He opens the door for you and pauses so you can check that it’s locked once you’re in the hallway, and then you let him lead you down to the motorcycle parked out front.

It’s even bigger than you’d thought. You hesitate at the curb, and Steve smiles encouragingly when he holds out the helmet he’s clearly brought for you.

“I promise to drive safely,” he says.

“Do you not normally?”

He ducks his head at that, smiling a little more. “Some of my friends tend to say I’m a little reckless.”

“Reckless?” you scoff. “I wouldn’t have pinned you as someone who’s reckless after the other night. I figured you’d be the exact opposite.”

You take the helmet and carefully fit it onto your head, then drop your hands when Steve steps closer to check that it’s secure. He buckles the strap underneath your chin.

“Well, I’m not great at first impressions. I was nervous. I don’t spend a lot of time eating dinner with pretty girls.”

Cheeks warm at the compliment, you laugh and follow him over to the bike. He climbs on first. You straddle the bike behind him once he’s holding it straight, then carefully slip your arms around his waist.

“Is this okay?” you ask.

“It’s great. You’re doing great, Y/N. Make sure you hold on tight, okay?”

“Can I ask where we’re going?”

He glances over his shoulder as he starts the bike. “Brooklyn!”

The engine is too loud for you to ask any more questions, so you simply tighten your grip around his (very firm) waist and tuck your head against his shoulder as he backs the bike out of the spot and then onto the street. There’s little traffic and not a single red light, but as he maneuvers you to wherever in Brooklyn you’re headed, he still swerves around and between the cars and trucks. It’s exhilarating, and a little wild, and by the time you arrive, your heart is pumping and you’re smiling from ear to ear. Once he’s parked, Steve looks back over his shoulder at you, then laughs as you detach yourself from him.

“That was fun!” you tell him as you carefully climb off. Your legs are a little unsteady, and he quickly holds out a hand to help you regain your balance.

“Good, I’m glad. We have to walk a little from here, is that okay?” Steve asks. He climbs off the bike, but you don’t fail to notice that he doesn’t release you from his grip. Not that you mind. His hair is ruffled from the wind, and though you’re sure that yours is too, you can’t bring yourself to fix it. You’re not so worried about being so perfect when he’s relaxed like this, unlike last time.

“That’s fine, yeah. Where exactly are we going? Besides Brooklyn, that is.”

You and Steve start walking, with him on the outside. He keeps hold of your hand as he explains, “It’s an old diner. It’s not one that I grew up going to, but it’s authentic enough that it feels like it.” He pauses and glances over at you. “I know it’s kinda cheesy to go to a retro diner for a date, but—”

“I love it,” you interrupt before he can say anything otherwise. “It sounds like fun. Do they have a jukebox? I don’t think I’ve used one of those in forever!”

Your hands swing between you slightly as you walk, and Steve glances over, smiling. “If they don’t, I’ll keep that in mind for our next date. If you want to go out again, that is,” he quickly adds, the smile faltering.

Unabashed, you squeeze his hand with a grin. “So far, so good, Steve.”

The rest of the walk to the dinner is filled with conversation, and though you still talk at the table, you realize that he’s more comfortable talking when he’s moving. His hands are constantly fidgeting, as if he has too much energy for his body, and when you’re finally done eating and the bill has been paid, you glance out the diner’s windows.

“Is there a place we can go for a walk around here? It’s nice out, and I don’t think I’m ready to go home yet,” you say.

Steve seems a little surprised, but pleased, and he nods as he slides out of the booth. You do the same, waving at the employees behind the long painted counter as you leave.

“There’s a park about a block that way,” Steve says. He points further down the street. “It’s got a trail that goes around it. I’ve run there a few times.”

“Wanna race?” you ask, grinning. You’re full from the meal, but you’ve been wondering just how fast and strong he really is since you first started talking. He certainly eats like an athlete, and you’ve seen pictures and videos of some of the things he’s done. You just want to know what it’s like when he uses his abilities for fun instead of work.

“Really?”

You take off without another word. Behind you, Steve laughs. Your shoes aren’t made for running, and neither is the rest of your outfit, but you give it your best effort. It’s not a surprise when Steve passes you only seconds later. His figure quickly becomes miniature, but you see him stop at the corner to wait for you before crossing the street.

“You weren’t even going full speed, were you?” you pant once you reach the park. He’s grinning wide in the light from the lamps, standing tall while you’re bent over with your hands on your knees. “And you stopped!”

Steve laughs. He’s not even slightly winded. “You wanted to race!”

“What happened to polite, chivalrous Steve from the first date? Would you have let me win if I’d asked then?”

He laughs again, nodding, and leans against the lamp as you swallow thickly and try to catch your breath. “Probably. Like I said, you made me nervous.”

“Do I still make you nervous?” you ask. You start walking again, heading down the paved trail that loops around the park.

Steve falls into step beside you, his hands in his pockets. “A little. I don’t normally go out on dates. I only had the app because I lost a bet with Natasha.”

You raise an eyebrow and glance at him as the two of you move out of a biker’s way. “Natasha? Like, Black Widow?”

“That’s the one.”

“What was the bet?” you ask him. You’re nearing a playground, and it’s dark enough that it’s empty except for a couple pigeons, but there’s a mother walking with a stroller up ahead.

He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck with one hand, smiling sheepishly. “I bet her that I could do more handsprings in a row than her.”

You stop and gape at him, and there’s a definite pink tint to his cheeks, even in the dim park lighting. “You’re kidding me. Are you serious, Steve? She’s like, the queen of gymnastics. She could probably go to the Olympics!”

“Probably,” he agrees, laughing. “It was a stupid bet.”

The two of you resume walking again, weaving around the stroller mom, and Steve puts his arm out to block you when you almost walk into a biker you don’t see. You give him a grateful smile and fall into comfortable silence as you walk, but there’s a question nagging at you from the back of your mind, so much so that you can’t ignore it.

“So how many handsprings did you end up doing?” you finally blurt out.

He chuckles. “Not as many as her.”

“What a political answer,” you tease. “Really, how many?”

There’s silence, and you nudge his arm with yours, stopping beside a tree. He looks at you and you raise your eyebrows expectantly.

“Two,” he sighs, and you have to cover your mouth when you snort. He gives you a scathing look, but it’s only a farce because his smile peeks through a minute later.

“I’m sorry, but I was expecting something a little more… heroic than two,” you tell him.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m better at other things,” he says.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

He starts walking and you catch up, taking a few extra steps until you’re beside him again. His hand bumps against yours and you look down, then smile as you lace your fingers with his.

“Pull ups, push ups,” he lists. “Painting, piano.”

You glance over at him, surprised. You hadn’t suspected something so artistic.

“You paint and play piano?” you ask. He nods and you smile wider. “That’s so cool. Maybe you can show me one of your paintings sometime? Or hear you play?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

The rest of your walk around the park and back to his motorcycle is easy and comfortable, and you hold hands the entire time. You talk about everything, from work and your family to the practical jokes he and Bucky had pulled on Bucky’s younger sister back in the 30’s and 40’s. He gives you his jacket when you’re heading back in the direction of the diner, after you shiver. You protest, but he insists, and the jacket wrapped around you is much too warm and comforting for you to truly argue. By the time you reach his Harley, it’s been an hour and you still feel like you could keep going.

Steve’s driving is a bit tamer on the way back to your apartment. There are more stop lights, too, and you take those moments to rest your chin on his shoulder and ask him questions or point out things you see. You have to yell, but he nods and smiles along, and when you’re finally parked outside your apartment building again, he recaps his comments and thoughts for you as he helps you off the bike once more. Your balance is better the second time, but Steve still holds your hand until you’re steady, and you hope he doesn’t notice how giddy it makes you.

“I had a really good time tonight,” you say as you arrive at your door. Carefully, you pull your arms from the sleeves of his jacket and hand it to him, then dig out your keys. You fiddle with them as he slips on the jacket again, shrugging his shoulders until it’s firmly in place.

“Me too. I’d like to see you again, if that’s okay,” Steve replies, and you smile wide.

“I’d like that too.”

There’s a moment of silence where you stare at each other, and you look away first. You want to kiss him, but you know that as much as he’d surprised you tonight, Steve was still raised in a different time. He might not be comfortable kissing you so quickly, and you don’t want to push him.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, so suddenly that you jump a little.

You blink, looking up from your keys. “What?”

He seems to take that as a sign of disinterest because he smiles politely and steps back a half step, the tips of his ears rosy in the dim hallway light. “Never mind. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Wait, no,” you quickly say, stepping forward to regain his attention. “You just surprised me. Yes, you can kiss me.”

He smiles a little wider and closes the distance between you even more. His hand rests on your side, warm and solid as he leans in to press a chaste kiss against your lips. It’s sweet, and he somehow tastes like peppermint, though you’re sure he hasn’t been chewing gum.

A bit bashful, you rest your hand on his chest for a second after you pull away. You’re smiling like a fool but you can’t help it—Steve has proven himself over and over tonight, and he makes you feel like nothing could ever go wrong while he’s around. You’re close enough that you can smell his cologne, and you close your eyes for a second as you take a deep breath. Whatever it is, it’s warm and sweet, like coffee with cinnamon, and it makes you want to curl up against him forever.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he murmurs.

You meet his gaze and slide your hand down, then away. “Goodnight, Steve. Let me know when you get home, okay?”

He nods and watches as you unlock your apartment, then open the door and step inside. You give him one last look and one last smile before closing the door. Silently, you stand in the entry area and listen as he heads back down the stairs. Once you’re certain he’s far enough away that he won’t hear, you let out a little laugh before darting across your living room to peek out the window. He’s climbing onto his bike when you pull the curtains back, and after the bike roars to life, he tilts his head back and gives you a little salute, a small smile curling on his lips. You wave back, grinning, and then Steve is pulling away, racing down the street towards his home.

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Forever: @aya-fay

Steve Rogers: @lipstickandvibranium @delicatecapnerd

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shesnotaposer · 2 years

Text

𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 || 𝐧. 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟

pairing: natasha romanoff x female reader

warning: minors dni (it's not like i can stop you. but keep in mind that you're responsible for your media consumption so be responsible), smut, roles; dom!natasha & brattysub!reader, semi-public sex, curse words, teasing, kinks; mommy kink | very slight praise kink | very slight degradation kink | choking kink | hair pulling, rough, large age gap; natasha is 37 and reader is 22

summary: you haven't seen natasha in a week. after being forbidden to relieve yourself during her time away, you refuse to give her the satisfaction of doing what she wants with you without a little show

a/n: NOBODY REMEMBERS ME, I KNOW. but who 9 months later, i'm back! i got pregnant and had to give birth. it was hard, it hurts, except it doesn't because i'm playing. but anyways, i've missed everyone, i'm going to write a lot of angst after this because why not

tony likes to throw parties. he used to throw extravagant monthly parties in the compound until the security of the place failed him, and the compound was infiltrated by a minor agency under hydra. ironic, isn't it? you'd think the avengers would have the best security in the world, especially with the literal owner of stark industries being your leader, but nope. when you live in a giant building full of superheroes, you forget you even need security. or that you need a strong one.

so instead of extravagant monthly parties (that the entire team against after the whole infiltration thing), tony now throws an "avenger weekend out" every month where he arranges something for the avengers to do together.

just 2 months ago, he booked the entire team a trip to dubai that you didn't really get to see much of. you and your girlfriend were quick to disappear into your hotel room and you didn't come out until the weekend was over. and by then you were limping.

this time, it's a trip to vegas.

he booked a fancy restaurant for the whole team. he gave tonight a little twist by sending stylists to everyone's rooms so everyone can look their best (the entire team knows that he only did that to stop bucky from wearing a t-shirt to fancy places but who is anyone to complain).

after a long time of trying to pick an outfit—which you had racks and racks of in your room courtesy of tony and his money—you've finally settled on a beautiful black silk dress with your cleavage propped up and exposed, you hair in an updo, and your body in the arms of someone who is not your girlfriend.

you had just arrived—fashionably late as always, and then you saw natasha. you knew she was coming. she was on a mission and had to come separately, dropping by at the compound first when you had already left.

she was gone for a week. and the entire time, you had been nothing but a good girl. you didn't touch yourself. you didn't send her a naughty picture. you didn't look at porn. because no matter how much you begged her to let you, she wouldn't. she knew how frustrated you are. but you don't want to give her the satisfaction of just doing everything she wants with you when she didn't let you do what you want. at least, not yet. you like your little games and your little shows.

so when a flare of jealousy swirls within her green eyes after you'd entered in the arms of wanda maximoff, making sure to greet everyone with a kiss on the cheek as the men especially welcomed you standing up, you knew she doesn't know your play. you sat across from her, not beside, and you can feel everyone's eyes wander from you and onto the empty spot next to natasha.

you only ever took it as far as sending her a naughty picture during a meeting. or calling her, moaning through the phone, when you know she's with the team. you never walked in the arms of someone else, or denied her of at least sitting close to you. not until now.

"if you're gonna be fashionably late, then might as well look like y/n, sam." tony quips, breaking off the awkward moment of when you met her eyes as you set your little purse on wanda's lap.

tony started the evening off by coming after cap. steve of course answered him all defensively and that started a whole thing between them. peter was annoying bucky, and sam was there laughing. pietro is nodding along something vision is saying. and thor is just asking for more beer. clint and bruce are having an awkward conversation—they're trying. they're not the closest, but they're trying. when you and nat are having a thing (that clint can always tell when you are), and tony is busy calling out everyone, clint and bruce are left trying to find something to talk about. and right now, they've settled on the temperature of their steaks.

you, on the other hand, spent the entire evening staring directly at the woman in front of you. she never took her eyes off of you either. she followed your eyes even as it glances over tony, or looks a second too long at wanda's.

you were in wanda's arms looking at natasha the entire time. you were looking at her while you laugh at a joke wanda told you, you were looking at her when your head falls on wanda's shoulder for a second, you were looking at her as you whisper something in wanda's ear.

you didn't think that the "anger makes you turn red" was a real thing—it's easier to think it makes you turn green—until you saw natasha's face, all red, the veins in her neck were popping out, and her lips were trembling with her jaw clenched. you know nobody noticed besides you. nobody in this world can memorize her skin tone enough to see when it changes. to everyone, the glare that was sharp enough to cut through you was just how she normally looks. if anything, she's merely staring at you. but you can see through her. you've memorized her features, her face, her, so expertly that you can tell even the smallest micro changes in her expression. and right now, she's angry.

so you take that as your leave.

you let her cool off.

you stood up, you looked over at wanda and smiled at the way her hands trailed down your back, asking if you needed her to accompany you to which you shook your head.

you walked with confidence, with ease, fully knowing that you'd be getting what you want when you get home. you pushed through the door of the restroom, the marble tiled, rough lighted room that someone suddenly grabbed you in by the elbow to.

you immediately knew who it was by her scent alone. she passed through you at the door and quickly grabbed you before you could even do anything.

"natasha, what—"

she kissed you. she put an arm on your back and she pulled your body until you're pressed against her with no space left to breath. and then she kissed you. she kissed you aggressively. she kissed you until you had no choice but to surrender the very little power you had over her.

the hand that's been holding the door the entire time found the back of your head. she pulled you up and pushed your back hard against the wall and she kissed you harder. you didn't like losing. so you kissed her with as much aggression, as much strength, if not more, as she did you.

your hands travelled up to her hair. you didn't care if it was styled to perfection. you intertwined your fingers with her red locks, and you twisted your legs around her body so you can pull her impossibly closer.

your kiss became passionate. but she still kissed you with the power she knows she has over you, and you kissed her with the resistance you know only you can give her.

you were resisting her advances. you were moving your head so she can't fully do what she wants, so she can't kiss you the way she wants to and only the way you want to.

her hand went to hold your jaw. she held you in place, she pushed a tongue in between your lips which you were quick to resist by pulling away. she wasn't enjoying it. her jaw was clenched, and her eyes were narrowed by almost an unnoticeable bit.

you smiled.

you smiled in the way that irritated her most. "i think, you need to start being patient." you said, grabbing her by the wrist. her eyes never left yours as you pulled her hand down from your jaw to slowly, gently, lightly trail the center of your body.

you lifted your chin to what the wall behind you allowed when her hand reached the gap between your covered breasts. and when it reached your stomach, you made sure to roll your eyes in the way that you knew made her crazy. and then you pushed your hands between your two bodies so it reaches your wet core. you didn't let her touch. you felt her fingers extend in an attempt to reach it, but you held it far enough so she can only feel how warm you were without feeling you.

you made sure not to look at her. you closed your eyes, and you let your chest rise, and your mouth open slightly. it was as if you were playing with a sex toy. like you were holding a vibrator and teasing yourself with it.

the very little power you had over her, is from the obsession she has with you, with your body, with your entirety. and she knew it damn well. but she couldn't do anything about it. because it was the way your back arched when you finally let her touch, controlling how long it stays, or how hard she pressed, that keeps her going. it riles her up.

you made her fall into an obsession she can never get out of. she was addicted to you.

that show that you play for her, it intoxicates her. it pulls her. it lets her see how much power she has to take back. how much control she has to force back from you. she likes the chase. the games. she likes knowing that after your little episode, she'll get to do whatever she wants, and frankly, you like that too.

so when you let her fingers press a little harder on your swollen bud, and you moaned, she flipped you. she flipped you so quickly that you didn't realize your front was against the wall until she carried you by the stomach and bent you over the sink.

she finally had all the freedom in the world to touch the pussy she was so wrongfully denied of. she made you spread your legs. and then her fingers danced on your core. she pressed on every part of you until you were grinding on her. "natasha, don't—" you breathed, "don't tease me." you were trying to stay in control. to tell her what to do. but she wasn't having it. you had you time, your fun.

you gasped when she cupped your sex with her palm. she lowered her body, and pressed it hard against your own. her other hand tucks a portion of your hair behind your ear so it's not covering your eyes.

"i think, you need to learn to be patient, dear." she whispers against your ear.

you felt her weight. and her warmth, and somehow, with the very little reason left in your body, you remembered the door. you couldn't move. the weight of her body held you in place. but you forced your hand to find the back of her head. you resisted the moans. you resisted the uncontrollable urge to grind against her arm by forcing yourself still.

"nat, the door." you whispered. "we can't do this here."

suddenly, she was rubbing your pussy. with the entirety of her palm. she was rubbing your swollen nub, and your hole, and everything that her palm covered. your mouth dropped wide open to let out the most animalistic moan you had absolutely no control of. and then she pulls your hair back so your ear is right where her lips were at.

"you should've thought about that before your little stunt back there, don't you think?" she growls. you could feel the tears forming in your eyes as your inhibitions slowly faded away.

the door. anybody can walk in on you at any moment. they will see you being fucked on top of the counter. they're going to see what slut this avenger is. but you can't stop grinding on her hand. the mere thought of someone seeing you being fucked out makes you grind even harder until her palm leaves your clothed pussy, and lands hard on your covered ass.

"mommy doesn't like naughty girls. you know that, right?" she slaps you again. and then again. and then again.

that had more tears running down your face. you hadn't realize that she wasn't on top of you anymore until she pulls your hair back even further so you can see yourself in the mirror.

you left the hotel with the reddest lipstick that's now smudged all over your lower face, and such an evenly drawn eyeliner that's now running down your cheeks. your hair that's been put up into an elegant updo, is now undone and held in a handful in natasha's hands. and you, moaning and panting and crying and grinding against her for every slap she lands on your now bare ass, look like a pathetic whore.

"didn't i tell you to be patient?"

natasha pushed herself against you, pressing down on your body while pulling your hair as far as your body allowed. you can see her on the mirror, you can feel her bulge against your cunt. and you couldn't help but grind against her dress, fully knowing the juices you'll be leaving on it, but frankly you couldn't care less.

her hair is messily falling over her shoulder now. and her lipstick is smudged against her chin. you loved the strands of hair that hung over the side of her head. and the way her head tilts in pride as she watches you writhing under her, chasing a high from the very little friction you get from grinding against her.

"please, i just need you to fuck me..." you cried. "please, nat..."

her eyebrows pinch almost in insincere pity. "now, is that a way to talk to your mommy?"

"mommy, please..."

she made you sit on the counter, never letting go of the grip she had on your hair. you were panting. and huffing. you were like a puppy in heat as you face her with legs all spread out on top of the restroom sink. you presented her with the cunt that only she gets to touch. the pussy that she's claimed.

her eyes softened for a moment when she comes as close as the counter gave her the space to. her other hand falls on your waist, while the other tugs at your hair so your faces are just an inch apart. she looked concerned, she looked like she was about to give into what you want. but then she doesn't.

"do you really think bad girls deserve mommy's dick?" she says, and suddenly her hand's on your neck, while the other finally makes contact with your cunt, pushing your lace underwear to the side. "should i really fuck you?"

your hips grinded harder against her fingers especially when she slammed two fingers into you. "god, yes mommy. please fuck me."

her grip on your neck tightens and she pushes you harder so your head hits the mirrors. "after your little stunt? flirting with wanda?" she didn't sound as taunting as you knew she wanted to sound like. instead, she sounded angry. and with the way she's restricting your airways, and the way she's slamming unforgivingly against your pussy, you knew she was angry.

"'m sorry mommy. will never happen again." that's a lie. it will happen again. but you need her. you need her. her fingers aren't enough. you wanted her to stretch you out. you wanted to feel her against every part of your pussy.

"right..." she says. "who do you belong to, sweetheart?" her grip tightens even more when she adds another finger and your hips jolts up as your eyes roll impossibly further back into your head. you were screaming her name. chanting it over and over again until her grip tightens even more. "quickly, sweetheart. i can hear someone coming."

you couldn't breath. your hand takes grasp of her wrist, but it wasn't to stop her hand from gripping your neck. you couldn't care less about air when she just added the last of her four fingers while her thumb circles your clit. you were chasing your high. you wanted this so badly. the way she was reaching spots, rubbing against parts you didn't even know existed. you were losing your mind. you couldn't breath, you couldn't think. your mind was blank, and it might be that you're about to pass out that you start seeing stars, but if you were to die right at this very moment, you're happy to have this as your last memory.

"who do you belong to?"

you grinded even harder, your hips were writhing against the fingers that only increased in pace. you were hazy. you were a moaning mess. and right at the very last second when you can feel yourself slipping away in pure ecstasy and an incredibly limited amount of air, you were able to mutter, "you..."

and then she lets you go right at the very second you exploded in her fingers. her hand was no longer on your neck, it was pressing on your chest just below your collarbone as she lets you ride out your high. your moans. her name. your cries. it was all music to her ears.

your consciousness came back, all along with your reason, and reality itself. you opened your eyes, panting. that might have just been one of the greatest sex you had in your entire life. you had a smile on your face as did natasha as she licked all your juices off her fingers.

her features softened as she caresses your face in her hands, pulling you closer, gently, softly, so you can stare into her eyes. "my good girl did so well for me." she whispers, giving you a peck on the nose. "mommy's gonna give you what you want later because you've done so well for me."

you knew she was jealous. your stunt made her jealous. you could see it in the way the end of her lip twitched. or through the darkness in her eyes.

you put your hands over hers. "i love you..." you whisper. "i belong to you. and you only."

that made her smile. she carried you off the sink and then she grabs a few tissue papers to soak in water and clean off your make up. she made sure to leave out your smudged lipstick. she left off the red tint on your lower face. and when you were about to fix it for yourself, she tuts. "don't. that should send a message that you're off limits, yeah?"

she didn't do anything to fix herself. your hairs were a mess, your dresses were wrinkled. but neither of you cared. you knew you wouldn't be staying any more than 5 minutes in this restaurant now.

she took your hand and let her fingers intertwined with yours as you both walked through the door. you were quickly met by the sight of a line of women with wanda on it's head. you couldn't even say anything. all you can do was hide behind natasha.

"next time, just go home." wanda says.

#natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff one shot #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff one shot #wanda maximoff fanfic #avengers #avengers fanfic #avengers imagine #avengers one shot #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 4 months

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"That's a Wrap!"

Loki’s not-so-triumphant return home from prison is delayed due to a winter storm as the Avengers all find themselves snowed in at the Tower for Christmas. As your holiday mood sinks, the others find a festive way to lift your spirits.

Pairing: Loki x Avenger!Reader Genre: Comfort, longing fluff with a touch of suggestiveness Content Warning: slight nod to bondage, but nothing else Word Count: ~2k

Prompt: The Avengers sneak Loki back from prison and wrap him up as a goofy present for Reader, who's always carried a torch for him.

For @lady-rose-moon's Secret Santa gift!

“It’s kind of funny,” you said softly as you sensed someone joining you in the darkened room.

“What is?” asked Natasha, forgetting that you had heightened perception, so not even she could usually sneak up on you. You could smell the two mugs of spiked cocoa she was carrying as she came in to sit beside you, the vague scent of butterscotch shots mingling in with the rest.

“The snow’s still kind of pretty, even if it’s completely disabling the city,” you answered bitterly, pressing your forehead to the cold pane in front of you. “If we went outside right now, it would probably be gray and graveled slush all over.”

Nat sighed, putting the mugs on the table between you. “But from up here it looks like a postcard.”

“Right.”

It was the worst blizzard New York had seen since 1993. Whiteouts blinded anyone daring to walk outside. Frigid gusts whipped snow drifts against the sides of buildings, burying doorways and windows, trapping people inside. Any car making an attempt on the road turned into a boat that went sailing freely down the icy thoroughfare, careening out of control. Temperatures settled well below the threshold required to close schools. Wind-whipped ice pellets stung the skin while the air froze eyelids shut.

The redhead paused for a moment, setting the mugs down next to you but making no move to sit. “I thought if you wouldn’t go to the party, I’d bring the party--”

“--thanks,” you mumbled, unsure if you wanted any at the moment.

The Black Widow bit her lip, still somewhat ill at ease in gentler social situations. “So, you were really hoping he’d be home by now, weren’t you?” She asked it with a little too much caution, as if the wrong inflection would be enough to spark a meltdown.

“I know you all know,” you mumbled bitterly. “Don’t worry about skirting around it anymore.”

The right corner of Nat’s lip curled. “Thanks. That was getting annoying.”

After the parole of your unwitting beloved, one Loki Laufeyson of Asgard and Jotunheim, was granted and ordered to be served on Midgard, you were practically giddy. Finally after years of talking to him as a prisoner under your observation when you and Steve made trips to Asgard, your hard work convincing both Odin the King and the United Nations paid off, and you’d won freedom for your flame (at least partially).

However, you’d hoped he’d be delivered back to Earth by the holiday, as you’d planned it in your head to make your first date a sweet, light-hearted Christmas Eve outing. It would be such a change from the harsh dungeons of the palace he’d once more willingly called home.

That was when the weather turned, and it made any aircraft landing impossible. The storm began on the 22nd, and it was still raging two full days later. It was ripping the city apart at the seams, making even walking to the curb an impossible task.

Shrugging, you turned away from her and looked out the window again, ignoring Nat when she gently nudged one of the mugs toward you. “Am I wrong for being into him?”

“Yes,” Natasha said without skipping a beat. “Especially considering you’re planning on asking an intergalactic war criminal to get in bed with you.”

“So I like ‘em bad,” you mumbled. “And besides…he’s on parole now. Or probation.Whatever.”

Nat twisted her lip. “You know how I feel about him. And that my feelings would never change, even if he was vindicated.”

“Noted.”

“But,” she went on after a pause, “It still really sucks seeing one of us so depressed on Christmas eve, no matter what the reason. Please come downstairs. We’re doing the Secret Santa gifts, and Thor had your name.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “How come Thor made it home?”

Chuckling, Natasha took a sip of her spiked cocoa. “Is that any way to talk about your possible future brother-in-law?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

You woefully looked out into the snowy twilight, pressing your forehead against the cold glass. Natasha groaned. “Okay, I tried,” she said, getting up, not bothering to grab her own cup. “I’ll tell Thor to put some holes in the box until you feel like coming down.”

Winking, she went slowly for the door, deliberately waiting for you to make sense of her clue. You got up, still skeptical. “He didn’t bring back another direwolf thinking it was a husky, did he?”

She didn’t turn around, only pausing in the doorway to say, “I guess that remains to be seen.”

Thor was always well-intentioned, but his meatheadedness often got you all into trouble, and tonight it would be specifically on your account if things went awry. “Did he really get me something…dangerous?”

“Oh, it’s dangerous,” Nat promised.

Shit, you thought, going to follow Nat downstairs after all. Even if you didn’t want to be there, if Thor had inadvertently caused danger with your ‘present,’ you had to at least take some responsibility for it. It still didn’t stop you from cursing Thor in every way possible while you reluctantly trailed Nat down to the lounge floor.

The air was much hotter on the floor below, and the sudden burst of bright fluorescent lighting forced you to squint for the seconds it took your pupils to adjust. You’d been sitting and sulking in the dark for a while.

“There she is!” chortled Thor Claus, wearing an obnoxiously oversized Santa hat that nearly slid down his face as he rushed over to greet you. “Happy Tidings!”

“Eyyy look who’s here!” chimed in Tony from the bar in the corner, where he was disseminating drinks. “Eggnog? With or without the special ingredient?”

“With, please,” you said quietly. “But I’m not staying long. I’m only here because someone warned me about my gift going rogue, Thor.”

Thor smiled at Nat, who winked from behind you so that you couldn’t see the message. “Friend, it has done no such thing--”

Tony interjected. “--but it is getting a bit crabby!”

Steve rolled his eyes from the sofa while Bucky giggled on his lap. “Yeah, please just open it!” he begged.

You twisted your lip skeptically as Thor pointed. “It’s under the bejeweled arbor,” he said.

Scott Lang nearly spat out the beer he was drinking. “It’s just a Christmas tree, Thor, pal!” he called.

The room was as merry and bright as one would expect for the occasion. Tony hadn’t skimped on a caterer, and they’d delivered a twenty-foot spread of every fathomable Yule-centered food. Vision was blinking red and green (Wanda couldn’t keep her eyes off of him). Nat went off to join Bruce Banner closer to the large tree in the center of the room, which was also where you began to head.

As you approached the tree, everyone else in the room seemed to cease their own activities in order to follow you, whether physically or with their attention. You noticed the low hum of diverse conversations blending together had ceased.

“What--?” you began asking before something caught your eye at the base of the fifteen-foot tree.

Sitting on his legs, tied and wrapped from neck-to-toe in metallic green Christmas wrapping, was none other than Loki, a large red bow plopped sloppily on top of his long black hair. Someone had hung a large holly wreathe around his neck, and above his head, dangling on a bit of fishing line, was a sprig of mistletoe. He was in profile to you, but the moment he could gather from the room that you’d spotted him, he looked for you.

He smiled in spite of his situation when he met your eye. However, his cheeks began to turn pink.

“Um…Merry Christmas?” he asked quietly, causing half the room to erupt in roaring laughter.

“But…I thought…how?” you said, unable to line up a complete thought as your brain was simultaneously attempting to process the surprise that Loki had come home after all..and that he was restrained and sitting in a submissive’s humble pose at your feet.

Thor was so proud of his little trick. He followed you back to the tree, his fists proudly sitting against his hips as he posed like Heracles. “He came back with me.”

“We were going to call you,” said Nat, still laughing (and, admittedly, gaining some satisfaction at Loki’s humiliation). “But then he said something that made Thor and I come up with this idea.”

“Oh?” you asked with curiosity, kneeling in front of the God of Chaos, bound helplessly in crepe paper, cupping his face in your hands. “What did you say?”

Loki raised a brow. “I said nothing,” he bluffed.

“The first words he said were to ask of your health and whereabouts,” Thor said gleefully. “And that’s when the Woman of Stealth and I invented this humorous plot to bring you some Yuletide cheer!”

You couldn’t help but eye Loki up and down, literally delivered to you wrapped in shiny paper. “It’s certainly cheering me up!” you said, your mood elevating with each laugh.

Loki’s cheeks continued to go red and warm.

“He still needs to loosen up a little,” suggested Scott.

“Let’s force-feed him some ‘nog! Anyone got a bib and a funnel?” asked Tony, raising his voice.

You rolled your eyes. “Jesus, guys, isn’t this enough?”

Loki smirked and sighed as you leaned over to kiss his forehead gently. “I’m quite thankful you got here before they made good on their threat to…what was it…’don me now in gay apparel’?”

Scott shrugged as Thor and Nat turned to him expectantly, the copious amounts of drink starting to slosh around in his brain. “I thought he’d look less scary in a reindeer outfit!”

“Well,” you said, “let’s at least free you from these Christmas trappings--”

“--no!” Loki quickly refused, nearly causing you to flinch. “They…the humiliations are manifold…” he began to explain.

Thor chimed in unceremoniously. “He’s completely nude underneath his paper bonds!”

You gasped as Loki nodded in the affirmative. “While I assure you I would have no qualms with showing the chiseled, superior physique of Prince Loki to this room of peasants, I have been told doing so will result in having garlands and snowglobes thrown at me.”

“And that’s a promise. I think we’ve all had enough exposure to Loki’s scepter around here,” said Stark. Several people in the room nodded in agreement.

Loki groaned, annoyed and further embarrassed. “Thus, I’m stuck until the party ends, after which you WILL be unwrapping your…err…gift, in privacy.” He struggled gently against the layers of paper tightly wound about him.

You reached up to straighten the bow on his head. “That’s better. And I’ll be more than happy to open my christmas present in the privacy of my bedroom later.”

The rest of the evening was spent in good cheer all around, thanks in part to you gently feeding Loki sips of Stark’s alcoholic eggnog until he was ready to willingly partake in the merriment. It didn’t hurt that you added the incentive of a promised kiss under the mistletoe after the others left.

Finally, the last of the revelers made their way to their bedrooms, you fulfilled your promise to Loki, not able to help yourself as you slipped a finger under the tapped wrappings at his throat, using your long nail to gracefully slice a long cut right down the middle. You peeled the green paper away just enough to expose his bare chest, stopping your breath at the sight. Loki added a sly, sexy grin to the image, completing the statue of the hottest Christmas gift you’d ever received.

“Oooh,” you moaned with excitement, “Merry Christmas to me, indeed!”

Part of @fictive-sl0th's 2023 Secret Santa game

Secret Santa 2023 taglist: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki/reader #loki christmas #christmas fanfic #avengers christmas #avengers fanfic #mcu christmas #2023 secret santa

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buckyalpine · 6 months

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Bucky giggles

Could you imagine the first time people hear Bucky giggle. Not a belly laugh, not a chuckle, not a snort or a cackle. A giggle. The cutest, most adorable giggle with the nose scrunch and shy smile and flushed cheeks. Sam paused mid sentence, doing a double take before staring back at Tony.

“Did-did you just hear that?”

Tony’s face scrunches into something between a cross of amusement and confusion when he hears it again.

“The man who threw me off a roof is giggling”

“He almost shot me in the face” Tony snorted, the both of them watching Bucky scroll through a phone he just learned to use. He’s blissfully unaware he’s the current centre of attention, fully invested with scrolling through tiktok. He’s splayed out on the couch like a baby while his head rests on your lap, nearly purring in between his giggles when you card your fingers through his hair.

“He’s like a house cat. A really large, has the ability to kill us all from miles away, house cat” Sam shook his head. You absolutely love when he giggles because it’s not often. It’s when he’s relaxed and happy without a care in the world, comfortable enough to let his guard down. He comes the sweetest puppy ever and it melts you every time.

“You’re so cute, baby” you lean over to peck his nose causing another adorable sound to sneak out, his cheeks blushing even more “the absolute cutest”

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vbecker10 · 2 years

Text

Stay the Night?

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Warnings: none really, bit of angst, some slight self depreciating thoughts, mostly just fun with a fluffy ending

Summary: You are still a new member of the team, working in Tony’s lab doing research. You've developed a bit of a crush on Loki and you decided the best way to deal with it was to avoid him. One night, you work too late and Loki runs into you in the kitchen. He insists you stay the night.

A/N: As always, this is way longer than I originally planned lol. I feel like it could have been like 3 chapters 🤦‍♀️. The last time I tired to write a oneshot it was 59 chapters and counting though so this is still better. Hope you enjoy it!! 💚

Dividers by: @harlequin-hangout

You rub your eyes and drink the last of your room temperature coffee, you preferred it warm but couldn’t remember how long ago you made it. You look into the empty cup and silently debate making another. Checking the time on your laptop, you groan when you realize its almost an hour later than you had thought.

It was Friday, the end of your fourth week working for Tony Stark and you wanted to make a good impression. On Monday, you had been given a research assignment and were expected to have it finished by the end of next week. You were close to being done and there was plenty of time to finish it, but you had a bit of a breakthrough right before everyone was starting to go home. You decided to work half an hour longer, then an hour longer. Soon you ended up dragging yourself and your laptop into the kitchen on the common floor so you could find something to eat for dinner. You told yourself, after you finished eating you would leave but three hours after that you were on your second cup of coffee and thinking about a third.

“Y/N, what are you still doing here?” a voice said from behind you.

You turn around on the stool as Loki walks into the kitchen. It takes you a moment to register that he had called you by your name, you weren’t even sure he knew what it was. You and Loki had barely ever spoken before, he never really spoke to anyone you had noticed. You had sat next to him in a meeting the day before but he didn't look over at you once.

“Oh... uh,” you grasp for words as he walks towards the fridge, your eyes are drawn to him like always. You had never seen him in regular clothing before. Loki always wore his Asgardian clothes even when he wasn't wearing his full armor, which you had to admit you loved. Now he was wearing what looked like very soft black sleep pants and a emerald green t-shirt. It somehow made him look more approachable, almost like he wasn't a God just a normal guy getting ready for bed... a really hot normal guy.

“I was just finishing up some work for Tony,” you finally stop starting at him and manage to get the words out.

“This late?” he asks and you think for a moment he almost sounds concerned.

“I didn’t plan on still being here, sometimes I lose track of time when I’m really into what I’m working on,” you tell him as you start to save your files, preparing for a quick exit.

He nods as he takes a bottle of water out of the fridge and closes it. He leans on the door and takes a sip, you can feel his eyes on you even though you don't look up. Before he can say anything else, you close your laptop and hop off the stool.

“I guess I should probably get home,” you say as you pick up your empty coffee mug. You walk over to the dishwasher next to the fridge, where he is still standing, watching you silently. You knew he was tall, but you hadn’t realized how tall until you were standing this close. You bend down to add your mug to the top rack and when you stand up, he is looking down at you.

“How far do you live from here?” he asks.

You look up at him questioningly, not really sure why he would be curious about that. When you don’t answer immediately he takes a small step backwards from you, almost at if he realizes he's towering over you and says, “Its already midnight, does it take you a long time to get home?” Again, his tone surprises you, he genuinely sounds worried about your trip home.

You nod, “I actually commute from New Jersey so... between an hour and a half to two hours. I have to take the subway and then a bus... and then walk a bit back to my apartment.”

He shakes his head then says, “I think maybe it would be better if you stayed here tonight.”

It takes you a minute to register the suggestion. You would expected something like that from Pepper or Bruce, maybe even Steve but definitely not Loki. Why was he suddenly concerned about you, you wondered.

"Well, I guess I could sleep on one of the couches in the commons space,” you say, pointing to the large room behind you.

“You could sleep in my bed, if you’d rather,” he suggests.

You’re whole brain freezes for a moment, almost unable to process what Loki just said. You put your hand over your mouth quickly to prevent yourself from saying something before your mind has a chance to review it.

He laughs at your reaction and says, “I should have phrased that better I think.”

You nod, still keeping your hand over your mouth, afraid you would agree too quickly to joining him in his bed. There was no way you would deny you were attracted to Loki. The velvety sound of his voice, his mesmerizing blue/green eyes, his smirk whenever he annoyed Tony or his brother. You had daydreamed more than once during a meeting about running your fingers through his hair to see if it was as soft as it looked.

He smiled at you and said, “I meant... You could sleep in my room and I can sleep somewhere else.”

You take your hand away from your mouth and laugh a bit at how ridiculous you are. How could you assume someone like him would suggest sleeping with you. Before you can dwell on that thought much longer you say, “I wouldn’t want to put you out of your room.”

“I’ve slept on the couches in the library almost as often as I have in my own bed,” he answers with a shrug.

You don’t respond, weighting your options. Leave now and get on the subway alone at almost half past midnight, hope there is a bus within half an hour of you getting to the station, then walking about half a mile to your apartment from the bus stop at around two in the morning... or sleep in Loki’s room while he sleeps upstairs in the library.

“Just spend the night and you can go home in the morning,” he says, trying one more time to convince you to stay.

“Ok,” you agree and he smiles at you.

You pick up your laptop and he motions for you to follow him down the hall. The two of you make your way quietly past the rest of the sleeping Avengers until you get to his room. He opens the door but stays in the hallway, letting you go in first. You turn on the light and the room instantly feels like its Loki’s space. The dark walls are lined with bookshelves that go from the floor to the ceiling. There is leather chair by the window with three books stacked neatly on the nearby table. The room smells of leather, old books and Loki’s cologne, which you couldn’t describe but loved.

He takes a few steps into the room and draws your attention back to him. “The bedroom is through there, the bathroom too. The TV works, but I’ve never found anything interesting on it... I might have lost the remote actually,” he says almost absent mindedly as he looks around a bit.

You giggle at him and he looks up at you with a warm smile. “I think I’ll just go to sleep, don’t worry about it,” you tell him, trying to hide a yawn.

He nods and then asks, “Do you need anything else?”

You think for a second and joke, “A toothbrush and something to sleep in is probably too much to ask right.”

He holds out one hand and waves the other over it, after a bright flash of green Loki is holding some folded clothing with a green toothbrush laid on top. “Wow,” you say without thinking, you can’t help but be impressed. You had heard about his skills with magic but never seen them first hand.

For a brief moment you think you see a small blush rising on his cheeks but you must be mistaken. His fingers gently touch yours as he hands you the clothing and toothbrush and says, “Have a goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Loki, thanks again,” you respond as he closes the door on his way out.

You wander over to one of the bookshelves and run your fingers along the spines of the old leather books. Some of them you recognize but some are in what you assume is Asgardian. You walk to the chair by the window and open the cover of the book on the top of the pile. It looks like a book of short stories but you aren't able to read it. You touch the pages lightly, flipping through the book, closing your eyes you can't help but imagine the sound of Loki's voice as he reads the stories out loud. You smile at the image but quickly shake your head. You needed to stop pretending something like that could happen, he was only being polite when he offered to let you stay. He wasn't interested in you, you scolded yourself as you closed the book.

You left the living area and went into the bathroom to change into the clothes he conjured for you. They fit perfectly, a pair of black shorts with a small bit of gold trim at the hem and an emerald green t-shirt, that looked like the same soft fabric he had been wearing. You paused for a second, looking at yourself in the mirror and wondered if Loki realized he made you clothes that matched his so exactly. Of course he knew he did, he made them, you thought to yourself. He always wore black, gold and green, those were his colors, don’t think too much into it, you shook your head.

After brushing your teeth, you turned off the lights and crawled into Loki’s bed. You sigh as you feel the soft sheets wrap around you. Loki definitely had good taste, you think as you roll over onto your side. You rest your head on one of his pillows and take a deep breath, the whole bed smells like him. Rolling onto your back, you stare up at the ceiling and try to push back the part of your mind that wishes he was in the bed with you. He was just being nice, you tell yourself again but you can't help thinking how it would feel to lay here with his arms around you. You groan, putting your hands over your face as you yell at yourself, stop thinking about him and go to sleep.

The next morning, you wake up and check your phone. Its barely eight but you figure Loki probably wants his room back as soon a possible. You get up and make the bed, putting on your jeans from yesterday but still wearing the green shirt you slept in. You thought about taking a shower first but your mind immediately began filling with images of Loki in the shower so you quickly decided to skip it.

You walked into the kitchen, deciding you needed coffee and Loki might want some tea. It was easy enough to know which he liked, he was the only one who drank that flavor. You set up your coffee in the coffee marker and fill the kettle with water before placing it on the stove. Just as the kettle finishes boiling, you hear two voices coming down the hall towards the kitchen. Bucky and Steve stop talking when they see you taking the kettle off the stove.

“Oh, good morning, Y/N. You’re here early... on a Saturday,” Steve says, looking at Bucky, as if hes trying to make sure it is Saturday.

“Yep,” you answer as you pour the water into the mug and add the tea bag. You suddenly find yourself wishing you had changed your shirt. You hadn't wanted to originally, it really was soft and fit you so well. It even smelled a bit like Loki since you had worn it in his bed all night.

“I actually stayed the night by accident,” you tell them as you open one of the drawers looking for sugar to add to your coffee.

“By accident?” Bucky asks, looking as confused as Steve had moments before.

Before you can answer him, Nat walks into the kitchen. She greets the three of you before heading straight for the fridge. "Nice shirt Y/N. I like that color on you, never see anyone else around here wear green except Loki really. Where did you get it?" she smiles as she pulls the eggs out of the fridge and puts them on the counter next to you.

"Hmm, oh this? Not sure," you lie awkwardly.

"I'm more curious about how you accidentally slept here," Bucky says with a bit of a laugh.

“I was working on a project and didn’t realize what time it was until it was really late,” you explain. "So I just slept here, no big deal."

Bucky nods, seemingly accepteing your reasoning but Nat is a spy and you know she can tell there is more. "Where did you say you slept?" she asks. You vaguely point down the hall where all the Avengers room's are. "There aren't any empty rooms on this floor," she says, raising an eyebrow as you put the box for the tea away in one of the upper cabinets

"Wait, are you making yourself tea and coffee?" Nat asks as she realizes what you are doing.

“I wouldn't bother with that tea, it's awful. Loki is the only one who drinks it,” Steve says.

You try your best not to react, instead you pick up the mug of tea with one hand and grab your coffee with the other. “I know,” you say quietly as you put your head down and walk quickly out of the kitchen.

“Wait... you and Loki?” you hear Nat ask but you ignore her and head towards the elevator instead.

You head to the back of the library, where the couches and reading area are. You stop in your tracks and take a step back quietly, you lean against one of the bookshelves with a mug in each hand. Loki is still asleep on one of the couches, but he is much too tall for it. He’s curled up as much as possible, with his head on a throw pillow but his legs still dangle off the other end. You start to feel guilty about him sleeping up here when you were in his room, you would have fit much better on the couch than he did. Just as you are about to set the tea on the table near him and leave quietly he starts to wake up. He rubs his eyes and you freeze, he sits up slowly and yawn while he stretches.

“Good morning Y/N,” he says, sounding half asleep as he moves to one end of the couch, motioning for you to sit on the other end.

“Morning Loki, did you sleep ok? I'm sorry, I didn’t realize how small the couches up here were. You couldn’t have been comfortable sleeping like that. I feel bad now, you should have stayed in your room, I would have been fine on one of the couches,” you say all in one breath.

He smiles warmly at you and takes the tea you made but forgot to offer him. “Y/N, it was fine, as I told you, I’ve slept here before,” he assures you.

You take a sip of your coffee and he smirks a little before asking, "So, how did you like my bed?" You cough, nearly inhaling your hot coffee and he apologizes quickly. “I'm sorry, are you alright?” he asks as you go back and forth between laughing and coughing.

You nod your head and clear your throat, finally able to catch your breath. "I'm ok, I'm used to drinking luke warm coffee," you finally manage to joke but when you look up at him he looks worried.

"You sure you're ok?" he asks as he gently puts his hand on your back.

You nod, "I'm fine, really." You can't help but relax as he slowly moves his hand up and down your back. You let your eyes close and find yourself leaning into his touch. He must have noticed because he didn't stop, he just slowly rubbed your back from the base of your neck to just above the top of your jeans.

"Thank you for the tea, by the way," he whispers in your ear after a few moments.

"You're welcome," you smile as you open your eyes but the smile fades quickly when you remember running into everyone in the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" he asks, noticing you shift away from him slightly.

"Nothing. I should go," you tell him. You pick up your coffee mug, almost knocking it over as you stand up to leave.

"Y/N?" he asks as he comes around the coffee table to follow you. He reaches out, his hand catching your wrist lightly. His touch was soft and warm, you could see the concern in his eyes. The look confuses you, before last night he had barely spoken to you and now he looked at you with such care. He slowly lets go of your wrist and you immediately miss the feeling of his fingers on your skin.

"I ran into Nat, Bucky and Steve this morning... I should have told them I was just stopping by for something this morning instead of saying I stayed over. Nat thinks we spent the night in your room, she probably figures we slept together because of the shirt you gave me and the tea I made for you. Bucky and Steve do too and probably everyone else on the team has heard by now," you say, keeping your eyes on the floor as you wrap your arms around yourself.

You aren't sure what kind of reaction you expected from him, maybe for him to laugh at how ridiculous of an assumption it would be but what he said next stunned you into silence.

"I'm sorry that would be such a terrible thing for them to think about us. I didn't realize you would be so... humiliated by the thought of it," he says. "I'll find Thor and explain what happened last night. He'll make sure they know you weren't with me," he tells you as he moves past you to leave the library.

You almost couldn't believe it, he sounded hurt that you were worried everyone would think you had been together. Why would he be hurt by that, you weren't even friends, you thought. Shouldn't he be offended that they thought a God like him would want someone like you in the first place?

You stand there, watching him leave as you think about last night again. This time, instead of the voice inside you convincing you he would never want to be with you, it asked what if you were wrong? What if Loki did care about you, and this is how he had tried to show it? You couldn't stand here and let him leave like this, you thought. You weren't sure if you believed that voice but you had always listened to it when it was being negative. Maybe it was time to listen to it when it was positive for once.

"Wait!" you call to him as your legs finally allowed you to move again. "Loki, wait please," you catch up to him and this time you catch him by the wrist.

He stops by doesn't turn to look at you. "I really didn't mean to upset you, Y/N," Loki tells you and you can hear the truth of that in his tone. "I wanted to make sure you were safe last night, that was all."

"I know, I'm sorry Loki," you tell him, hoping he will turn to look at you but he doesn't. You loosen your hold on his wrist but don't let go, instead you slide your hand down until you are able to take his hand in yours. You hold your breath, waiting to see what he does next, afraid you were wrong. After a second or two of silence, you can hear him sigh as he interlocks his fingers with yours. You feel like your heart skipped a beat when he runs his thumb over your knuckles. He looks at your hands and you see that same warm smile from before spread across his lips. You realized you wanted to do anything you could to make him smile like that more.

"I just... I guess I don't get it. I didn't think you wanted to be around me Loki, you never talked to me. What changed last night? Why were you suddenly so worried about me?" you ask him as he closes the distance between the two of you.

"Y/N, you've been doing your best to avoid me since you started working here," he says. "I've wanted to talk to you several times but you were either busy in the lab or with your friends on the team. Anytime I saw you alone, you would vanish from the room as soon as you spotted me. I assumed you didn't want to talk to me so I decided maybe it was better to stop trying... but I always worried about you," he tells you.

You look at him in disbelief for a moment. "I was avoiding you..." you admit and his smile faulters for a moment. "But not because I didn't want to talk to you," you add quickly and his smile reappears.

"You make me nervous Loki. I feel like I barely know you but... I'm just drawn to you. I wanted to get to know you and be around you but I was scared..." you stop yourself and look down.

He gently touches your chin and raises it so you are looking at him again. "What scared you Y/N?" he asks softly.

"I was scared that if I got to know you, I would fall for you more then I already have and then I would be crushed because... because I know you would never feel the same about me," you tell him. It hurt enough to admit that to yourself, you had never thought you would say it to anyone else, especially not Loki. You cringe at how open you are with your feelings and try to avoid eye contact but his fingers move from your chin to your cheek and he keeps his eyes on yours.

"I want you to get to know me, Y/N, and I want to get to know you," he tells you as him thumb lightly brushes your cheek. "I want to court you," he says in a low voice.

"I'd love that Loki," you smile up at him.

"There's that beautiful smile," he says and you can feel your cheeks heating up as you blush. He laughs a bit and you try to pull away, to hide your face in your hands but he doesn't let you. He wraps his arm around your waist, then he pulls you flush against him. Your hands easily find their way to his lower back and he runs his fingers through your hair with his free hand.

You look up at him and bite your lip subconsciously as you can't help look from his eyes, to his lips and back to his eyes. He smirks and leans down, bringing his lips to yours. Your hands grip the fabric at the back of his shirt while his hand settles on the back of your neck. He keeps his other hand on your lower back as his lips move against yours.

"I do have one other question for you," he says as he slowly pulls away, still holding onto you.

"Hmm, what's that?" you ask him, not able to stop smiling.

"Do you want to stay the night again?" he winks at you.

Please let me know if you want to be added or taken off the tag list 💚💚

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lis-likes-fics · 1 year

Text

Into the Woods

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader Word Count: 13.6k Warnings: NSFW, smut, a/b/o, alpha!Natasha, omega!Reader, knotting, claiming/biting, g!p Natasha, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, blood, violence, Natasha goes by Roman for most of the story... A/N: I’m gonna be honest, I kinda just got this as a prompt on TikTok. It was fantasy au, coffee shop au, and a/b/o wrapped in one. I’m just glad to write for Natasha again, I missed her so much, lol. Thank you and enjoy! <3

The bell over the door rings with a loud jingle as you wipe off the counter. You hardly pay any attention to it at first, opting to continue tidying the bar as you wait for the new customer to take a seat. The morning is still young, although the day is inching toward noon as the sun shone through the windows in bright streaks that allow a wonderful light into the tavern.

After you finish wiping off the table, you smile as you head for the newest customer. You nearly pause when you see her: ginger-haired, green-eyed, smooth-skinned, and leather-clad with a sword on her back. She’s beautiful. Her hair is gathered in two braids that turn into a bun at the back, and it gives you a clear view of her rosy cheeks and plump lips that are painted a subtle red.

Her armor is a collection of steel, leather, furs, and cloth. You can see vague designs on the metal breastplate, black and sleek and slightly shielded by her dark cloak. She sits with a straight back, glancing around the tavern like she is waiting for someone—or something—to jump out at her. When her eyes find yours, you offer your kind smile and approach her. Standing in front of her, separated only by the counter between you, you can see her pretty face a lot clearer. She’s even better up close.

“Hello,” you greet her. She returns your smile, though it’s hardly as big. “You’re a hunter, aren’t you?” you ask, nodding toward the sword on her back.

She nods back, not at all fazed by your inquiry. “Yeah.”

“What are you hunting?” you wonder, fluttering your lashes at her like it will persuade her to tell you. She tells you anyway.

“Wendigo.” She leans in a little, as if she is about to tell you a secret with the smallest smirk. “You don’t happen to know where I could find one, huh?”

You shake your head and join in, leaning over the bar as well. From this close, her scent is more definite, not as contaminated by the many smells around the building. It’s strong, rich in the way that it swirls around your senses and momentarily halts your thoughts. It’s an easy scent to distinguish.

“No,” you finally answer. “I’m just a humble witch.” You introduce yourself, jutting your chin out just a little, as if to staple the name in her mind.

Her smirk widens just a tad before she’s leaning away again. “Well, in that case, keep a lookout for me.”

You almost miss the closeness, being able to spot the freckles on her face that so lightly spot her nose. “Will do.” Your mind clears of the slight haze of her scent, and you think back to the creature she’d spoken of: the wendigo.

“This is ‘cause of that boy who wandered into the woods a ways over, right?” you recall. In villages like this and that one, news like that travels quickly for information and warnings. A little boy, no more than ten, wandered off into the woods after dark. The parents had sent a search party as soon as they realized he was gone, and he turned up dead with patches of flesh eaten up and a couple of missing limbs. That village is not too far, either. A day’s walk, maybe. A little less on a horse.

The woman nods, her smirk fading slightly. “Yeah.”

“Poor kid,” you sigh. “They buried him a couple days ago, I heard.”

“Tracked the thing back here.” She lets out a sigh, “I need to speak with the leader of this place. Do you know where to find them, little witch?”

You shrug a shoulder, shifting your weight to your other leg. “There’s no real ‘leader’ here. We’ve got elders, and we’ve got our advisers.”

“Oh, yeah?” she wonders, raising a brow to allow some humor back into the steady flow of conversation. “You one of them?”

You shrug again, grinning back at her. “Not officially, but everyone knows everyone. I’m the healer, and I keep the dangers away. They’ll listen to me. What d’you need?”

She thinks for a moment, “A curfew, especially for the little ones. People need to be inside by nightfall, and, if you have to, no one should be out alone.”

You let her words sink in with a nod, agreeing to her terms easily. “I can talk to people and get the word around.”

“Thanks.”

“No worries…” you grant her another smile, changing the mood a little bit. It takes you a moment to realize why she had entered the tavern in the first place. “In the meantime,” you begin with a soft sigh, “what can I get you?”

“Coffee, black,” she responds flatly. “And some sweetbread. Please.”

“Will do. What’s your name?”

“Roman.”

Your eyes widen slightly, your lips curling in a smile once again at the name. “Oh?” you wonder, leaning onto the counter with crossed arms as you give her a curious look. “As in the great huntress, Roman?”

She smiles, laughing lightly as she glances down at the table and then back up to you. “I’d be a great huntress, even if I weren’t her, little mage.”

You narrow your eyes playfully, straightening your spine again. “Oh, I’m sure,” you shake your head with a light chuckle, chewing on your bottom lip in thought. “I’ll get that sweetbread right to you, your greatness.” You do a silly bow, just for the dramatics, before turning to get her request. She chuckles and nods toward your antics.

It does not take long for you to return with her plain coffee and bread. You set it down in front of her before she’s slipping her shiny coins across the counter. You take it and slip it into the pocket of your apron with a small thanks.

“Will you be coming round again?” you ask, finding yourself hoping a little too much that her answer is yes. You think she senses this as she sends you a sly smirk, bringing her cup to her lips to take a sip of the hot liquid. She takes her sweet time about it, too.

“Maybe,” is all she replies with.

You raise a brow at her and tap your fingers on the wood before giving her a gentle goodbye as you hear the bell over the door ringing again. “I’m looking forward to it. Good hunting.”

Night comes and the tavern is filled to the brim with patrons. There are the ones who come every night for the drinks and the folk songs. There are the town bards—the Moselyn Twins—who collect coins for their good music. There happens to be a birthday, front and center and the attention celebration—though the special attention happens to be placed on the cake you had been asked to bake for the occasion.

Another ring of the bell alerts you to another customer. You smile toward the door as you separate from the pair you had been talking to beforehand.

At first, all you see is a single customer walking by themselves against the advisory. Then, you realize that it's the scary wendigo-hunting redhead who came by that morning, still clad in armor with her hair in its braided bun. She has been walking around town since she arrived, questioning the people about anything strange or suspicious. She's staying at the inn, the small building with a few decent sized rooms. The village doesn't get many passersby, and whoever comes through is usually friends or family visiting, but they stay with the person they were visiting.

Roman looks around the tavern, unimpressed and almost annoyed by the amount of people here. She makes her way toward the bar, ignoring the curious glances she receives. Everyone in town has heard by now about the huntress, especially the one said to be one of the world's greatest. They mean well, but prying eyes are prying eyes.

Roman comes to a stop in front of you, unamused by your large grin. She set her hand on the table, still gloved in black leather. “Didn't I say something about a curfew?" she asks, tilting her head.

You mirror her, raising your brows as you get ready to speak. “Technically,” you begin with a shrug, “they're all inside and in packs. Nothing to worry about. And, besides, this is probably the safest place in the entire village.”

After a moment, she finally breaks and lets a small laugh escape her. She shakes her head, sitting down on the stool. “I heard there's only one pub in town,” she says, removing her gloves and dropping them on the counter.

You instinctively pick them up, feeling the material as you answer her with a nod, your fingers running over the knuckles, “It's mostly a bakery during the day, becomes a pub at night. It's a small place, no space for a bakery and a pub."

“I see," she smiles.

You set the gloves back down and grab a cup from under the bar and set it down. “What would you like?"

“Rum."

You scoff, grabbing a pitcher from behind you and beginning to pour her cup. “That's boring, but alright," you mutter.

“Boring?" she questions.

“Yeah." You lean over the counter, tilting your head at her. You slide the cup over, raising a playful brow with a silent challenge. “Boring."

She takes the cup, drawing a long sip from it and considering your words. She sets it down, licking her lips. She nods her head toward you, “What would you get?"

You shrug, “It's off menu and expensive. I brew it myself."

She chuckles again and you watch her tongue dart out to wet her bottom lip once more before her teeth sink into it for just a moment. When she pulls it free, it flushes with blood as her lips move to form words. “I've got money," she says, “And bravery. You tryna poison me?"

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you turn to find the bottle sitting along the shelves behind you. You pick it out. “You wish," you shake your head. “That would mean I actually thought you were dangerous."

She raises a brow, intrigued, “You don't?"

You set the heavy bottle on the counter with a loud clunk. The purple liquid sloshes around, lapping at the insides of the glass as you look up to the ceiling to think about your response. “I think," you look at her, “you do dangerous things."

She shifts her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. “Don't dangerous things create dangerous people?"

You shake your head, pulling the cork from the bottle with a forceful tug. “Dangerous things create dangerous lives. But not all people in those lives become dangerous people,” you explain, grabbing another cup from under the bar.

She watches you pour the dark liquor into the cup with a hum. When you pass it to her, she takes it and examines it first. She brings it to her nose, sniffs the aroma she has trouble distinguishing. She takes a tentative sip, considers it, then takes another. She sets the cup down with a hum.

You raise a brow.

She nods. “Spicy," she comments. Her brows furrow, “but also fruity?"

You smile at her observation, taking the neck of the bottle and leaning the lip toward your nose. You take a whiff of it, “I use many spices for the flavor—ginger, cinnamon—and I don't use sweeter fruits to keep the…fire."

She takes another sip, savoring it for a moment before she nods once more. “It's good."

Your smile is more than proud, almost cocky as you enjoy the swell of accomplishment in your chest. “I know."

She raises her brows, “Do you?"

You nod definitely. “I'm very confident in my brewery skills."

“I can see," she replies, chuckling into her cup.

You decide to pour yourself your own cup, taking a stool hidden under the bar to sit down in front of her. You make yourself comfortable under the scrutinizing gaze of Roman, the way she watches you every move, as if she’s expecting you to jump out and try to attack her, catch her off guard with some sudden attack that you’re sure she could easily counter.

“So,” you sigh after taking your first sip, “have you found the wendigo?”

She shakes her head, “They only hunt at night, near impossible to find during the day.” She shrugs, “Besides, if I had, I would be gone already.”

You tilt your head, “All business, no pleasure?” You lean forward a little, just enough to be clouded by her strong scent once more.

“My business is my pleasure.” She answers you with a smirk, allowing herself to relax as she leans forward into your space, as well.

Your body shifts when you chuckle, “Boring.”

“So I’m still boring.” She doesn’t say it as a question, she just points it out with a sigh meant to feign disappointment.

You nod at her, fighting the urge to reach out and gently shove her shoulder just for the chance to finally make physical contact with her, even if your hand would only meet leather and cloth. “There’s always room for pleasure outside of business, huntress.”

She raises a brow, “Is there?”

“Of course.”

She leans impossibly close, still not touching you. You can feel her breath over your face as the look that flashes across her face is complete charm. “And what pleasure would you suggest, omega?”

You still, frozen in place by the word she’d decided to use. You stare at her, your brain a fuzzy mess to sort through as you catch up to yourself. She knows all too well what she’s doing if the look in her eyes is anything to go by.

You recover quickly, shaking off the shock as you straighten up again in your stool. “Come by my home at first light, the cottage near to the trees and the old barn,” you say. She’s nearly surprised by your words, your tone, but she’s good at hiding it. “I can show you myself,” you offer a small smirk.

She tilts her head to one side, raising a brow as the curl of her lip deepens. “Oh?” her raspy voice, still quiet and challenging, beckons you.

“Yes,” you nod.

She narrows her eyes, feigned suspicion at your offer. “Is it some trick?” She leans forward. “Will you spell me and use me as a sacrifice for your dark sorcery?”

You take your cup and swirl it a couple of times, considering it. “Would that scare you?” you finally ask after a long pause, taking a drink from your cup.

She leans back again, watching you head on. “You want to scare me?”

You shake your head, setting your cup down and feeling the spice burn down your throat in that pleasant way. You sigh, looking back at her. “I want to prove you’re not dangerous.”

Roman’s lips part, and the look in her eyes shifts from that confident, charming gaze into an intrigued expression that comes from finding a new, peculiar puzzle to solve. Her face relaxes a split second after the look appears, and she is once again a mask of stony wile.

“Good luck,” she simply says. She picks up her cup and swings her head back, downing the rest of her drink with an ease that nearly astounds you. She slams her cup down on the counter, looking you dead in the eye and holding the contact.

You pick up your own cup and do the same, setting your cup down with a clutter as the liquor burns down your throat like a blazing fire. She just smiles at you, reaching in a pocket and grabbing a small pouch as she leaves behind a few coins for you.

She retrieves her gloves, slips them back onto her hands, and winks at you. “First light,” she confirms. Then she turns on her heel and leaves without sparing you an over-the-shoulder glance.

You don’t allow yourself to melt into a flustered mess when she’s out of sight. Instead, you pick up the cups and wipe off the counters as you calm your beating heart.

The huntress observes the cottage before taking another step toward it. It’s decently sized, fitting for the small village you live in. Made of dark wood, parts of it are overgrown with moss and vines and leaves. Flowers bloom from some parts of the growth, along the vines that curl around the poles holding up the roof to the porch.

It’s still hardly dawn, but the sun has made first light and the world is beginning to awaken once more. She can see the flickers of candles through the windows, emitting a golden light foreshadowing the warmth that awaits inside.

She approaches the home, taking in the bushes practically surrounding it with different herbs or flowers. Stepping onto the porch, she raises her fist and raps on the door with a few resounding knocks.

She doesn’t hear the voice coming from inside, turning her head in the direction of the sound that says, “Around back.”

Roman steps off the porch and walks along the side, then a little more toward the back where the eastern side of the house faces the forest. There you are, sitting on the stool out in the grass, bathing in whatever light of the golden sun seeps through the forest trees. You look surreal like this, carving into some wood held firmly in your hand. Taking a few steps closer, she can see you carving a bird. It looks like you’re almost finished.

You don’t look at her as you speak, instead tilting your head to the side with a smile set into your lips. “You came.”

She nods, “I did.”

You bring the carving to your face, blowing away from scraping. Roman watches them fly through the air before descending in a gentle rain to the forest ground. You finish up the last touches of your bird before standing. “Give me a moment, and we can get started.”

You walk onto the back porch, grabbing some twine from a little table and looping it through the hoop on the bird’s back. Then you hang it up to the roof to join the other carvings, an array of birds and windchimes.

When you finally look at her, you take in the sight. She’s still in her armor, but it is no longer as layered as it had been before with all that leather and metal and cloth. Instead, she’s wearing her long, dark robes and thick leather. The only metal she’s wearing now is the breastplate that protects her chest.

You can see the designs a little clearer, now that it isn’t shrouded by extra layers of protection. They're like tendrils marked along the armor, they’re like webs. In the middle of the breastplate is an hourglass, the warning of the black widow and its deadly bite.

You open the back door and step into the house, making your way through to the front door, which you lock after setting out your busy sign to let everyone know you would be gone and grabbing your own cloak. You grab your courier and step back outside here Roman is waiting for you.

Her back is turned toward you as she faces the mouth of the forest. You can see her cloak a lot better, decorated with silvery spider webs that you can see glint slightly in the morning light. She’s still got her sword thrown over her back in its harness, which matches the web pattern of her cloak. She turns when she hears the door close.

“Let’s go,” you announce with a smile, walking off of the porch and passing her.

“Where?”

You look over your shoulder, chuckling as you motion for her to come. “Just follow me,” you tell her. She hesitates for a moment, and you roll your eyes, walking back and grasping her hand tight to pull her with you toward the trees.

She walks, but only because your grip is tight. “You shouldn’t go in there,” she begins to argue, entirely unamused as her voice laces with a warning. If you didn’t know better, you would say she was worried.

You shake your head, continuing to drag her. “You said the wendigo only hunts at night, and I have magic. We’ll be fine.”

She sighs, another warning waiting on her tongue. “Witch–”

“Come on!” you urge, tugging on her arm until she walks more willingly with you. She watches your insistence turn to glee when she finally relents and walks by you into the forest that engulfs you in trees and wonderful growth.

You start your trek, climbing over logs and patches of plants you would never step on. There's a familiar path you follow as Roman walks cautiously behind you. At first, her gaze was fixated on you and any slight noise that threatened to disrupt the eerie peace of the forest.

But then, she is drawn in by the serenity surrounding her. The gentle calls of birds in the trees, the ordinary and the unusual plants that pass by her, the signs of life translated through desire paths and nests and little footprints entice her.

You both walk for a while, just looking around at everything. You stop and show her different plants, educating her on some things and allowing her to educate you on others. You stop by your usual destinations, nests you’ve helped build, animals who have begun to recognize and accept your presence. At some point, you stop to snack by the river, where you collect some more water on the way, using your magic to filter it.

She helps you collect some of the plants you’ve been needing to restock on, herbs and spices for both your home and the tavern. You tell her stories about the town and the people who reside in it. She listens carefully and seems to take interest in the slightly mundane lifestyle of your little village.

You manage to coax a couple of stories out of her. She tells you about some of her previous hunts, about her closest friend who sometimes hunts with her. She tells you about some of her friends who live all over, friends who she’s supposed to meet at a get-together after the next full moon. There is a captain who serves on the king’s order, a war hero. There is an associate of the king, who happens to have made a few of the weaponry Roman carries with her. She promises to convince him to make a dagger for you the next time she sees him. You watch as she smiles a little more while talking about them, especially when she mentions her sister, also a well-known huntress.

Most of these people happen to be names you’ve heard of, well-known people who you’d have to pay a lot of money to be in the same room as. To know that she has such connections is astounding to you, and you enjoy listening her talk about it—even if it does make your humble story about how one of the farmers’ troublesome twins let all the pigs out of the stables and made the whole village spend the day trying to round them up seem boring.

You catch her off guard when you grab her hand, pulling her down as you kneel in front of a patch of flowers with a quiet, “Come here." The arrangement feels specific to her as she takes in the sight of these rose-like plants. The petals are iridescent, a mixture of black and red and purple with long dark stems and leaves that are bigger than the flower itself.

Roman reaches out and strokes a dark leaf, tilting her head to examine it. “Hapelite?" she wonders, glancing at you with furrowed brows. Hapelite was a magical drug, often sold in shady taverns or brothels.

She watches your face shift, annoyance etching itself into your expression as you sigh gently. You take a flower into your hand, petting its soft petals and stroking its leaves.

“Its actual names are Joy's Flutter or Healer's Root," you tell her with the roll of your eyes. “The name was changed when some charlatan smoked its roots and started using it for ecstasy."

You grab your bag, opening it to pull out a pair of scissors and a tiny shovel that looks more like a teaspoon. They're all too specific as the blades slant downwards toward the middle. You position the scissors near the bottom of the plant and cut the stem in a long angle. With the shovel, you carefully dig around the bottom of the stem to uproot the rest of the flower without disturbing the actual roots.

You do it with a skill that leaves Roman mesmerized. She watches as you take the flower in your hand and carefully open the bud just enough to reveal some of the pistil. Gently shaking it, some of the pollen hidden inside showers back to the ground where you'd just pulled the roots.

You present the flower and the root to her. "You take a petal—the darker, the better—and set it on your tongue like this." Picking out the darkest petal, you hold it up to Roman. She considers for a moment before opening her mouth, giving you space to set the petal on her tongue. Gooseflesh rises upon her skin when your fingertips brush the bottom of her jaw, easing it closed with steady hands. She's nearly embarrassed that she almost leans into your gentle touch.

"Just like that," you whisper, watching her gaze back at your face as she sits still, not daring to move a finger for fear of breaking the moment between you. Your eyes scan her face in silence for a little longer than you mean to, relishing the sounds of the forest and the privilege of being so close to her face.

After a moment, you see Roman's eyes flutter. Her jaw ticks as a long sigh passes through her nose. You smile a little, watching her face shift as the petal melts on her tongue.

When you speak again, your voice is just as soft. “Joy's Flutter is what it's called when you're using it as a…a sort of stimulant. Its petals hold chemicals in it that help to generate feelings of happiness."

You linger there for a moment as she opens her green eyes again, and you watch the jade green you'd delved into too many times shift into a darker green that matches the color of the stem and its leaves.

You lick your lips and regretfully pull away, holding up the root end of the second half of the stem. “When a person is injured, the root and the petals together help to soothe the pain. It doesn't numb like most herbs, and it staves infection."

You grab two boxes from your bag next, a bag that Roman is beginning to realize is enchanted, and set the root and the flower in different ones to keep them separated. “The root itself, which is then used as hapelite, is too potent. That hinders the senses, from obscured mental states to complete temporary paralysis and numbness.

“This flower is not naturally addictive, but it can become addictive to certain mental and emotional states: people with depression, nymphomaniacs, states of being that cause a person to desperately need a sense of joy or pleasure."

After your explanations, you retrieve your tools and begin cutting more of the plants to add to your boxes with deft hands. "Are they addictive to you?" Roman teases, raising a brow as she licks her lips, tasting the last specks of the petal on her tongue after it has dissolved.

You shake your head with a chuckle, “No. I'm fulfilled enough."

She echoes your laugh before standing again to examine the rest of the area out of curiosity more than the need to be hyper aware of her surroundings. She finds that she trusts your instincts of the forest.

“Did you grow them?"

You shake your head, almost laughing in response to her inquiry. “No. It takes years and years of mastery before you can successfully grow these. I'm not quite there yet," you explain. “But they do grow in the wild in places like these, but only for a number of days after very specific sequences of events."

“What kind of events?"

You think for a moment. “Lunar Rain–"

“Lunar Rain?"

“Witch speak. It's just rain that comes during or after a full moon. It moisturizes the soil with natural magic. The soil also needs to be sprinkled with the pollen from the flower beforehand into the ground in place of seeds. If it begins to sprout, it has to be nurtured with a drop of joyful tears every other day.

“That's not even half of it. It requires so much maintenance, constant tending to. And it takes at least a month before it even begins to sprout, so you don't know if it's even growing or if you're just treating the ground like royalty. I don't have the time or the skill for it yet."

She chuckles lightly once more as you finish up. You leave plenty of flowers behind—you hadn't even taken half of the plentiful supply—as you pack your things back up and put them in your bag.

You give a final sigh and smile. “Come on." You start to walk off with Roman in tow before she's finally walking beside you again.

“This is your idea of pleasure?" she asks, her voice teasing.

“What were you expecting?" You look at her with a raised brow, holding a smirk. You chance a step forward into her space for half a moment just to whisper your suggestion in her ear before putting a little more space between you once more. “Sex?"

She laughs, "The thought had crossed my mind."

You join her laughter, shaking your head before you speak again. “There are more pleasures in this world than just sex," you tell her, watching the ground under your feet as you step over twigs and trails of pawprints. “I'm a witch. I'm drawn to nature." You look at her, “You're a hunter…you should be, too."

Her eyes lock onto yours, staring for a moment. You watch her lip curl into a smile before she's walking again, taking off like she's in pursuit.

“Where are you going?" you pick up the pace, struggling to keep up with her now as she darts away with ease.

“Follow me," she simply instructs, going back to snatch up your hand when you struggle to do so. She pulls you with her, her eyes trained on the ground and the trees around you as she follows something. What? You have no idea.

Her eyes scan the ground. She kneels a couple of times to feel the ground, feeling the dirt and grass under her fingertips and rubbing them together. She turns to some trees and lays her hand against the bark with closed eyes.

Her focus is sharp, her face etched in hard concentration. She never lets your hand go for a second, keeping you in a vice grip that you remain constantly aware of.

Eventually, you both step out into a meadow, full of green grass and wild flowers of all sorts of colors. She let go of your hand then, and you hate to admit that you miss the warmth of her touch. She walks farther into the small field and crouches low to the ground, removing her black gloves and slipping them into a pocket. Her eyes are trained on something you cannot see, but you can feel it. A shift in the air, a specific type of twinkle lingers in your bones.

She holds her hand out in front of her, her palm facing away. Then she makes a clicking noise, slow and soft. It resounds gently around the meadow as you tilt your head curiously.

Then, out of the trees, you watch a horse emerge from the brush. It’s tall, slightly taller than a regular horse. The horse’s copper coat is nearly as red as Roman’s hair, except its mane is almost white as it forms a curtain along its neck. It’s slow, taking cautious steps toward the huntress who beckons it.

When it eventually approaches Roman, who moves slowly and surely to get to her feet, she sets her hand atop its muzzle. She lingers there for a moment, allowing the creature to beckon familiar first before she gently strokes it there. She turns back to you, offering a small smile as she watches you stare at the creature with wondrous enchantment in your gaze.

“Come here,” she beckons you as softly as she had the horse. You obey with tentative steps until you're standing next to her. She pulls you in front of her, grabbing her hand once more in her own. You hold your breath at the closeness, the way she presses her body against yours and guides you carefully. “Set your hand here,” she directs quietly.

She sets your hand on the muzzle like she had done before, and your breath hitches at the feeling of this creature’s magic. You wonder if she can feel it like you can, pure and ethereal.

Roman’s lips are right next to your ear as she speaks, still whispering in that raspy tone of hers. “This is a sylvequi,” she begins. “They’re very rare, but they usually only appear in forests that are capable of growing Joy’s Flutter; it’s a source of food for them.”

She slowly guides your hand to stroke the horse’s muzzle, taking the opportunity to breathe in your scent. It swirls around her, invades her senses in the most wonderful way. “Unicorns aren’t real, but they’re inspired by these beautiful mares. They grant wishes to people they feel deserve them. They only have three to give. Once the last wish is used, they give birth to a new sylvequi. Then they lose their magical ability and begin to age, and eventually they die.”

You gaze at the creature, your mind clouded by Roman’s intoxicating scent and the horse’s magic. So many things going on at one time—it felt—makes your head spin a little. You breathe a gentle sigh, “She’s beautiful.”

Roman nods over your shoulder, “Yeah, she is.” Her hand releases yours to shift some of the horse’s mane from her face, allowing you a clearer view of her face. Under its left eye, you could see two little markings, like dark dots lining the under eye. “She’s already given a wish.”

You continue to pet her, giggling a little when she takes a step closer to you, pushing her muzzle against you in the process. Roman gazes at the horse, looking her in the eye as if they were communicating. Then she leaves you, and, once again, you miss her warmth. She slowly walks to the side, placing a hand on her back and patting her a couple of times before she skillfully mounts her with ease.

You look at her as she holds her hand out to you. “She’s all ready to go,” she said.

You offer a gentle smile to the horse before walking over to Roman, taking her offered hand and allowing her to help you mount the horse as well. You get on behind her, wrapping your arms securely around her waist to ensure you don't slide off.

Roman strokes her hand along the back of the horse’s neck, easing her with little shushes before she clicks her tongue after taking a hold of her mane. She begins walking, taking a few cautious steps before she’s found a steady pace to stroll at.

“Have you ever made a wish?” you wonder, leaning your chin on her shoulder. You’re smiling at her, almost teasing as you bob your brows.

She glances back at you with her own smile before shaking her head. “I’ve never been worthy,” she confesses. Then she shrugs the shoulder you aren’t leaning on and hums, “Granted, I’ve never asked.”

You hum as well, leaning forward a little more as her body easily supports you. The sylvequi’s head bobs as she huffs and gives a little prance. Roman chuckles before her hand lands on yours clasped on her belly. “Hold on tight.”

“Why–” Before you can get the words out, she breaks into a sprint. Wind whips past you as she starts out fast, building in speed to race through the forest in a delightful run. Your arms tighten around Roman, almost constrictive in order to make sure you aren’t thrown off. She’s fast, way faster than any horse you’d ever seen.

The pace is exhilarating, pulling excited laughter from you as you relish in the amusement of the ride. Roman glances at you over her shoulder, more than pleased by your pleasure. The sylvequi continues her sprint, the steady clop, clop of her hooves against the forest ground creating the perfect ambiance.

A fair amount of time passes before she begins to slow, reducing her speed to a gentle trot once more to carry you more through the vast forest. Roman’s scent wafts around you, filling your brain and clouding it indefinitely. It’s harder to focus now that it’s so strong, and you lean against her in an attempt to indulge in it.

She glances at you, gently patting your hands still wrapped around her. “You okay back there, little mage?” she asks, her eyes flitting over your calm face.

You nod, mutter your response with closed eyes as a twinge of fatigue begins to set in. “Fine.” She chuckles gently, shaking her head as she and the sylvequi enjoy the peace and quiet of the forest.

By the time you’re roused by Roman, you have no idea how long it’s been. You sit up, taking in a deep breath as you look at her. “Come on. We’ll get off here,” she says. “We have about an hour before it’ll start getting dark.”

She swings her leg over the side and lands gracefully on her feet, offering her hand to you so she can help you down. You stretch when you’re standing again as Roman lays her hand on the horse’s muzzle again. “Thanks for the ride,” she mumbles, stepping away.

You reach into your bag and pull out one of the boxes from before, taking a hold of a flower bud from your pick of Joy’s Flutter. You offer it to her, and she gladly feeds from your hand with a gentle huff. As she finishes, you stroke down her muzzle once more before joining Roman’s side.

She considers you both for a moment before she turns and leaves you be, back to her own business in the deep forest. When she’s out of sight, you take a look around to see where you were. Once you recognize the familiar area, you start walking until you reach the river that leads into town.

You stop, kneeling down as you pull off your bag. “What are you doing?” Roman asks, stopping next to you.

“We should eat here before we get back. We’ve got plenty of time. It’s a twenty minute’s walk from here,” you tell her, pulling a blanket out of your bag and laying it flat. You look up at her expectantly. “Well?”

She considers it for a moment before granting you a sigh and sitting down in front of you, setting her sword down next to her. You smile, pulling out two wrapped up sandwiches you had prepared beforehand, along with a couple of apples and a leather pouch carrying some fresh water. You offer her the food you’d packed, and she accepts.

You both sit and eat and enjoy the other’s company, perfectly content with the stillness of the trees around you. It’s calm, comfortable. You dare to think it’s perfect. You could easily see yourself doing this again, with her. How perfect it would be to spend your life like this. With her.

Roman doesn’t let you stay there long, though. After you’ve finished eating, she stands and helps you gather everything to put back in your enchanted bag. She retrieves her sword once more, securing it around her back. You start the trek back.

You could already feel the change in the forest as the sun begins to make its descent. You’re roughly ten minutes from the village when the sun finally disappears. The moon is bright tonight, a waxing quarter that grants enough light for you to see as you make your way through the wood.

You come to an abrupt halt when Roman holds her hand out in front of you, stilling completely. “Wait,” she orders, looking around her darkened surroundings with a vigilance that impresses you.

“What?”

“Shh.”

“I–”

Her gloved hand clasps over your mouth, keeping you silent as she tries to listen. You sigh, rolling your eyes as you look around as well. You hear the sound of a snapping twig, rustling in the leaves around you. You swear you hear the faintest giggles of strange creatures and tilt your head curiously.

Roman’s voice is a whisper when she speaks again, her face a cold mask as she reaches behind her and draws her sword slowly. “Get behind me,” she says. There’s no room for argument, but that doesn’t stop you.

“I can protect myself,” you whisper back.

“Now.”

She growls the word, turning to you with hard eyes and bared teeth. Your argument dissolves into compliance as you do as you’re told, tucking yourself behind her as she uses her body as a shield from whatever was surrounding you.

You both listen to the sounds of a disturbed forest as the tension rises. Then, out of the brush, small little creatures start crawling out of the bushes on four legs. They’re small, just about at the level of your knees. It starts out as just a few—maybe three or four—before it starts growing in numbers closer to ten or fifteen. It looks like a possum, with big beady eyes and long muzzles that almost look like beaks. For a moment, you think it’s cute, harmless.

But then you realize what they are.

You hold your breath, opening one hand and thinking of the first offensive spell that comes to mind as you watch the boggarts begin to change. Their beak-like noses become sharp as their teeth turn to fangs. The reflective pupils of their eyes turn to slants of hideous eyes full of malicious intent. Its paws become sharp claws meant for ripping flesh as its tail grows into a snake-like limb. As if that wasn’t bad enough, you watch them grow, from the height of your knee to the height of your waist. What was once almost cute was now a monstrous creature ready to kill.

“Oh, shit.”

They charge. Roman swings her sword just as you chant an ancient word that sends one of the ugly creatures flying away. They chatter with horrible snarls as they wrap around your feet and try to trip, attempting to get their jaws around you to break the skin.

You’re holding them off well enough as Roman defends. She moves swiftly, bringing her sword down on these creatures with ease as it slices and cuts and rips these creatures apart. They continue charging for her, the bigger threat who needs to be put down. It doesn’t deter her. She deals with them with ease until they’re all dead at her feet.

Roman’s breath is heavy as she holds her sword out, straightening up once more and turning to you. She wraps an arm around your body to bring you close, looking over you with more concern than you initially expected.

“Are you alright?” she asks quickly.

You nod, “Yeah. A couple scratches, but I’m fine.” She takes in your response with a relieved sigh and a nod. Once you know she’s accepted your answer, you begin to walk away to get back to the village. You’ve barely taken a step before she’s stopped you again.

“No, wait,” she says. “There’s always a mother.”

You look past her as you catch onto something, your eyes widening at the beast stepping out of the trees. It’s huge, nearly Roman’s height with bared teeth and soulless eyes. You take a step back, “I think I found her.”

She turns around and raises her sword again as the beast of a creature charges at her. She doesn’t risk it, pushing you back to get you away from the fight. You stumble a little, catching yourself on the ground as you watch her defend you.

The way she fights is almost like a dance. Despite everything, she’s swift and ruthless, as lethal as the sword and as strong as the thumping of your beating heart.

It’s hard to keep up with it, everything is moving too fast for you to comprehend. All you know is that you eventually hear the sickening sound of Roman driving her sword into the heart of the boggart with a loud grunt.

She lingers there for a moment, catching her breath before she’s twisting the blade for good measure. She steps away, unsheathing her sword from the mother and wiping the blood onto the fur and scales of the lifeless beast. Returning the sword to its sheath, she turns to you with heavy breath and holds out her hand. You grab it as she helps you up.

Her gaze is dark, and she’s got blood on her clothes now. When she lets go of your hand, you can feel the sticky crimson liquid on your fingers. You wipe yourself down, finding her gaze still trained intensely on you as she takes a step into your space. She’s so close to you now, peering at you with eyes dark as the night sky. When she speaks, her voice is rough and still heavy with breathlessness.

“Still think I’m not dangerous?”

You don’t respond, caught up in the look she’s giving you as it renders you speechless. Your mind is muddled again as she puts her hand on the waist and guides you with her as she continues walking back to the village.

When you break through the trees and find yourself in the backyard of your cottage, you’ve come back to your senses. You turn back to her and chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully. “Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine,” she says. “Go home. I’ve got a wendigo to hunt.”

You grant her a concerned look, frowning deeply at her words. “Shouldn’t you rest first?”

She shakes her head again, giving you a half-hearted smile in an attempt to ease your nerves. “I’ll be fine.” She pulls you closer to the house, bringing you up the back porch and stopping at the door. “Go inside, stay inside. Have some tea or read a book or something. Relax.”

You sigh, still refusing to give in so easily as you worry about her well-being out there alone. “I can help you against the wendigo,” you offer. “I’m not helpless.”

She sighs gently, her smile coming a little more genuinely as she cups your face. Her eyes gaze into yours, and you find your focus wavering for a split second. “That’s very sweet,” she mutters. “But I’d feel better if you were here,” she drops her hands from your face and takes a step back, “where it’s safe in your spell protected home.”

You huff out a frustrated breath. “Roman, I–”

“My name is Natasha,” she interrupts, tilting her head. “Roman is my last name, Romanoff.”

You fall silent, taking in her confession. You look back at her, taking in the way she looks back at you. Her eyes are filled with a strange kind of concern, a tenderness you would have least expected coming from a self-proclaimed dangerous huntress who just killed an entire pack of boggart and is now going after a flesh-eating wendigo.

You consider her for a moment and let out a regretful sigh as you shake your head. “Okay,” you mumble. “I’ll stay here.”

She smiles, grabbing your hands, just to feel them. “Thank you.”

“If.”

“Oh, gods,” she rolls her eyes.

“If you take this with you.” You step away from her, turning around to open your door to go inside. She stands there with a sigh and waits until you reemerge with what looks like a bracelet. It’s a stone wrapped in twine, purple and dull but with a simple kind of beauty.

You step behind her, tying the stone at the base of her braid to make sure it’s secure. “It’s a protection charm,” you tell her, stepping back into view.

She reaches back to feel the rock under her fingertips before looking back at you with a gratitude that makes your chest swell. “Thank you.”

She lingers for a moment, watching you like she’s mapping out your face, like she’s preparing in case that she doesn’t come back. Then she turns around and begins to walk away. She’s only just stepped off the porch when you call to her.

“Natasha.”

She turns, “Yeah?”

You bite your lip before you blurt out a response. “Don’t die.”

She flashes you a smile, a huge smirk that has confidence written all over it. She winks at you with a promise you intend to hold her to.

“I won’t.”

You jolt awake when a repetitive pound thunders through the cottage. You move into autopilot instantly, not wasting any time in waking up as you reach for the dagger under your pillow. Unsheathing it, you bolt out of bed and head for the back door with swift, silent feet.

You set your hand on the doorknob and hold your breath before swinging it open with your brandished dagger. A wave of relief washes over you for just a moment when you see Roman—Natasha—on the other side of the door.

You let out a breath, taking in the sight of her. “Natasha?" you whisper. She's fully armored again, her hair is slightly disheveled. Then you notice the blood, and your relief washes away in sharp vigilance. She's hunched over, holding her side with a blood-stained face. Then you notice the awful tear in her armor along her arm.

She tries to offer a smile. “Do you have nillow weed?"

You step out and tuck yourself into her side, supporting some of her body weight with your arm held under her. “Come in, come in," you urge, helping her inside the house as you close the door behind you.

You ease her down onto the sofa before bounding toward your kitchen. You ruffle through the cabinets, grabbing a selection of herbs and potions that you bring back to the small living room. You drop them onto the table, kneeling down and snatching up the pestle and mortar already sitting on there.

“What part of ‘don't die' did you not understand?" you mutter under your breath, shaking your head and letting out a heavy sigh as you start measuring the herbs into the bowl.

“Technically," she begins, trying to sit up with a painful groan, “I didn't die."

“Technically," you bite back, looking up at her in the middle of crushing the mixture together, “this could kill you." You motion to her arm with your pestle.

You start adding the oils into the mixture to form a paste as she chuckles roughly. You shake your head, setting your tools down and wiping your hands together.

“Greatest huntress, my ass," you grumble. You sidle next to her on the sofa, painstakingly removing her armor, layer by layer, until she's only covered by a thin shirt, its sleeve in rags.

You have to cut the sleeve off of the shirt, peeling away the fabric as she bares her teeth with a quiet hiss. “I never actually called myself the greatest huntress,” she says, looking back at you with a strained smile. You dart your eyes to her face and hide your smile as you shake your head yet again at her idiocy. She’s smiling at you, sweat and blood sticking to her face. “Even still, the wendigo is dead.”

You look away from her, standing to go get a water bowl, adding some water to boil on the way. As you come back, you sit next to her again. “I’m very proud of you,” you respond, dabbing the rag in the water and carefully cleaning off her wound. She winces again, and you whisper an apology.

You stand after you’ve finished, walking over to the fireplace, where you’ve set the wooden boxes from before on the ledge. You open the box and offer the flower to her. She shakes her head. “Are you sure?” you question, your expression tainted by worry. She nods, giving you another tight smile. You sigh and put it away.

You sit next to her once more after grabbing your stitching equipment. “That’s my only pain reliever so…brace yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” she promises.

You bob your brows, “Okay…” You thread your needle and get to work as you begin stitching up the deep cut made by jagged claws. You see her fist clench, but she gives no other sign of pain as she looks away from you. When you tie off the thread, you wipe it down once more before applying the paste to her arm, laying it on thick to ensure it’s properly administered.

You finish by wrapping her arm in thick, white fabric, pulling it taut. Natasha watches you disappear into the kitchen. When you come back, there’s a cup in your hand giving off a gentle steam. You kneel in front of her, ignoring the way she now sits taller than you as you rest your hand on her lap. You give her the cup, “Drink this.”

She does without question. She trusts you entirely, and that warms your heart. She hands the cup back to you, and you set it on the table behind you. She stares at you, watching you examine her face, her arm, her. She does the same to you.

You notice the way her eyes begin to droop and stand again, easing her down to lay on the sofa, her cheek resting against the soft pillow you set under her head. “Lay back,” you whisper. “Sleep.”

She looks up at you with droopy eyes and you hold your breath. You watch her fade into sleep, her body falling limp on the sheets. You brush some hair off her forehead, your eyes flicking over her face again with a gentle sigh.

“I’ve got you, Alpha.”

You take a seat on a chair and allow your mind to slow down. Now that you know that Natasha is safe and okay, you can breathe, relax. As you plop down on your cushy seat, you let out a long sigh and run a hand over your face.

It’s then that you start becoming aware of everything other than the bleeding out huntress at your door. Like your sheer nightgown now stained with blood, or your bare feet on the dark wood floors, or the fact that it’s past midnight and the fireplace is beginning to die out from your earlier burning. You stand and begin tidying everything back up. You put away the stitches, your herbs and oils, slowly cleaning the now cluttered living room.

Once you’ve cleaned up enough, you get a fresh cloth and some water to begin wiping down her face, cleaning up the blood and sweat clinging to her skin to reveal rosy cheeks and soft skin. You admire her for a little too long. Then you scoop her up into your arms and carry her into the bedroom, placing her atop the bed and easing the covers over her body. Again, you brush some hair out of her face and linger there for a moment, admiring the gentle part of her lips, the peaceful innocence of her face as she rests. She really is beautiful.

You whisper one last spell over her before sitting down on the chair near the bed. You set a blanket over your body and allow yourself to fall into peaceful rest next to her.

Natasha is eased awake by the gentle chimes of the wood carvings hanging from the porch roof outside. She opens her eyes with a deep sigh, blinking the sleep away as she slowly sits up. A dull ache in her arm has her shifting her attention to the white bandages securely wrapped around her. She looks at it, running her fingertips over the fabric as the events of last night return to her.

It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as she expected it to, now that she thinks about it. Before she can continue examining her healing wound, she hears gentle breaths at her side. She turns to find you sitting in the chair, a blanket thrown over your body as you sleep soundly.

She smiles softly at the way your head lolls to the side, the way your eyes skip behind your lids as you dream away. As she moves to sit back against the headboard, you stir. She hadn’t even made much noise, besides the near silent ruffle of the sheets at her slight movement.

You take in a deep breath, opening your eyes as you come to. You see her first, a slow, lazy smile spreading over your lips in response. “Hi,” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. “You’re up.”

She nods, “I am.”

You take another breath, shaking your head lightly to help ease you from your rest. You stretch as you speak, “How do you feel?”

Her hand instinctively reaches for her arm, brushing the fabric thoughtfully. “Fine,” she says as you stand, walking over to her and sitting on the side of the bed. “Looks good.”

You offer a smile as you take her arm in your hands, carefully unwrapping the bandages to reveal the wound from last night. The paste is gone, and the wound looks a lot older than it should for one that’s only existed a single night.

“Yeah,” you mutter before looking up at her with a smile. “What usually takes two months should heal in about a week.”

Natasha’s eyes widen in surprise, “A week?”

You smile proudly, chuckling as you shake your head at her reaction. “I’m a really good healer, huntress. And a witch, in case you forgot.” You mumble the last part to yourself, playful and lighthearted.

“I can see that,” she responds. You stand from the bed and disappear into the living room to bring back the same paste from before and some new bandages. You apply it carefully after wiping the stitched up wound down.

“Are you hungry?” you ask gently.

“A little.” She’s starving.

“I’ll stop by the tavern and bring something back.”

“Okay.”

You do just that after you finish taking care of her. She watches you too closely as you wrap the white fabric over her arm once more before putting things away again. You rummage through your drawers as you grab some clothes to put on.

Once you are presentable in a simple gown you pulled over your head and tied in the back, you give Natasha a smile and a wave as you leave the house with your basket to get breakfast. You walk down to the tavern, say hello to the waitress who’s in this morning, and then grab some bread, meat, fresh fruits, and tea instead of the coffee she’ll be expecting. On the way back to the cottage, you can smell her strong, heady scent again before you’ve even stepped foot onto your property.

She’s in the living room when you open the door, setting the basket on the table with a smile. “I could smell you before I even got close to the cottage,” you comment instead of greeting her.

She looks up at her with a cocky grin. She’s got her hair down, longer than you expected. It frames her face perfectly in gentle red waves that rest over just her collarbone. “Smell good?” she teases, bobbing her brows suggestively.

You roll your eyes. “You smell like blood and sweat,” you put it bluntly. “You need a bath.”

She laughs heartily, this raspy sound that makes your heart clench. You bite your tongue to keep from revealing the fact that she smells like fresh rain and forest trees (beneath the blood and sweat, of course).

You spend the day inside or out on the back porch. She sits with you as you start a new carving outside, talking about whatever happens to skip across your mind as you chat. Then inside, she helps you with the flowers you’d collected yesterday as you prepare them into their own jars and vials to add to your collection. Everything just feels so normal, sliding into place like that’s how it’s always meant to happen.

It feels so amazing to have company, especially company like Natasha, who will flirt and tease and tell you stories and make you laugh. You almost forget that, soon, she’ll be gone again to the next village to hunt the next beast.

Nightfall comes and you walk into the bathroom, where she’s lounging in the tub full of hot water clouded by different herbs and oils you’ve added that seep into her skin and make her feel wonderful. You have a towel and a fresh pair of clothes in your arms as you walk inside, hyper aware of her eyes following your every move.

You set the things down and sit on the wooden chair next to the tub, taking her arm in your hands. “Your clothes and stuff should be dry in the morning.” You take your pair of scissors and begin removing her stitches carefully. The wound has healed enough, the bathwater and your magic have worked wonders on it.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, her voice low and gentle. You smile at her, moving the old stitches and the scissors away and taking a seat once more. She offers a tight smile, “Your hospitality has been much appreciated.”

A sort of dread fills you at her words, but you try not to show it as you nod. “So you are leaving.”

She nods, almost regretfully. “In the morning,” she confesses, sitting up just a little to keep her body concealed by the cloudy, white water. “It’s time. My job here is done, and I'm needed elsewhere."

You nod slowly, letting out a long sigh. “Okay.”

“Okay?” she’s surprised by how quickly you accept it. She’s almost disappointed.

You shrug. For a moment, she thinks it’s pitiful, limp shoulders rising and falling. “Yeah,” you tell her. “You’re a hunter, it’s your job.” You swallow thickly, ignoring the lump that threatens to rise in your throat. “Who am I to stop you?”

Natasha nods slowly, licking her lips and ignoring the ache in her chest, just as you ignore the one in yours. She sighs, glancing back at you. “You mind if I stay the night?”

You slip out of the chair and onto the floor, kneeling beside the tub and resting your arm along the side. “I’ll have to insist,” you smile, attempting to lighten the mood once more. “I wanna watch that arm.”

She doesn’t miss the way you run your fingers along the surface of the water, making little ripples in the tub. “Thanks,” she mutters, trying to keep her smile intact. You hum, glancing away again in an attempt at keeping the tears at bay. You hate that you’re getting so emotional about it. You’ve known her for three days. Three wonderful, amazing days.

“Hey, there,” she hooks her fingers under your chin, turning your head to look at her again as she offers another gentle grin. “You gonna miss me?”

You chuckle lightly, shrugging a shoulder as you successfully swallow your tears and speak in a level voice. “A little.”

Her smile widens. “I’m gonna miss you, too,” she admits. “A little.”

You both sit there in silence, letting the seconds tick by as you memorize each curve, lash, and dip on the other’s face. Natasha’s smile fades slowly and her lips part. You watch her make the decision as she sighs.

“Come here.” She pulls you forward and envelopes you in a warm kiss. It consumes you, fills you with a fluttering feeling that makes you feel like you’re floating. You lean forward into her, kissing her back with a little more fervor as you savor the taste of her plush lips against your own.

Her hand smooths along your jaw, pulling you closer. A gentle breath escapes you as a moan that slips into her mouth. She shifts her body in the tub to face you as she sits up on her knees. You reach for her, setting your hands on her shoulders to brace yourself, yearning for more.

The kisses become more desperate, stroking hands turning to grasping fingers. Her hand slips under the neckline of your dress, pushing the sleeves off of your shoulders before moving to untie the little bow keeping it up. The dress pulls at your elbows, barely concealing your breasts.

As soon as the word leaves you in a heavy breath, all sense of slow and steady dissolves as the desperation sinks into her skin. “Alpha,” you whisper against her lips, feeling the lust rise within you at the feeling of her hands stroking your bare skin.

“Fuck,” she rasps. “Take this off.” It’s a command you are content with obeying, helping her shed you of your dress to let it fall to the floor with little regard. Her lips trail down along the column of your throat until her head is buried in the crook of your neck. Her teeth scrape along your skin, sucking and biting, intent on marking you up as her hands wander.

You moan against her, pulling her wet body closer. Her hand ducks under your chest, resting above your belly before brushing up just enough to cup your breast. Your mouth falls open and a sigh falls forcefully from your lips. She squeezes, her thumb brushing over your nipple and sending shockwaves along your spine.

You whisper the name again, needier this time. Natasha’s husky voice turns into a growl as she laps at your skin. “Get on the chair,” she orders. Again, you obey. Shifting yourself on the seat, she sits up on her knees, the bottom half of her body still shrouded by the water as she sets her hands on your thigh. Seeing you now, she has the perfect view of your naked body. She marvels at you, her green eyes dark and hooded as she takes in the wonderful sight. “You’re beautiful,” she sighs, pulling you closer so there’s less space between you and her. You flush at her words, biting down on your lip.

She pushes your thighs apart, her nails digging into your flesh. A deep sigh escapes her throat as she looks at you, her thumb pressing into your inner thigh as it inches closer to grab at your outer lip, pulling it a little to reveal more of you to her.

“Oh, she’s fucking soaking, isn’t she?” she comments, running her thumb along your wet folds. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

You don’t have a chance to respond, she’s already burying a long digit inside of you, biting her lip as you immediately clamp down on her finger. You’re so wet, she slips in with ease. Your head falls back as a breathy moan forces itself out of you. “You’re so tight,” she mumbles, leaning forward to press her lips to the inside of your thigh, teasing you.

You try to close your legs, too sensitive to her touch, but she doesn’t let you. She forces them open once more, pressing her fingers deeper. Just as she sees you open your mouth to form words, she cuts you off again with another intrusive finger into your sopping pussy. A choked sound replaces your words.

“Such a good girl,” she whispers, still kissing your thighs, her tongue licking along you to taste your skin. “Bet you want my mouth, don’t you?” You just nod, looking back down at her with heavy breaths as you bite your tongue. She tsks, shaking her head at you. ��C’mon, use your words, sweetness.”

“Yes,” you gasp out as she curls her fingers inside of you. “Yes, I want your mouth on me. Please.”

She smiles proudly at you, kissing your thigh again and resting her chin there. “You’re so pretty when you beg,” she teases, leaning forward and pressing her lips against your lower belly.

You mewl, “Please, Alpha.”

She growls again, not intentionally. It slips out, your pleas are so intoxicatingly sweet. “Fuck,” she curses under her breath, letting out a shaky breath at the effect that name falling from your lips has on her. She pulls her fingers out of you, and you whine helplessly.

She puts you out of your misery as she wraps her lips around your dripping cunt, her tongue flattening against your folds as she begins licking you up. Your mouth falls open and the most diabolical sound drips like honey from your tongue. You cave into her, tangling a hand in her hand to pull her closer. She lets you, enjoying the way you grip onto her for dear life.

She laps at your pussy, eager and desperate, like you were the finest wine and she hadn’t drank in days. Her tongue delves inside of you, her lips wrapping around your throbbing clit and suckling gently. The pleasure jolts through your body like fire, and you’re sure you’ll burn up in no time at all if she continues on like this.

She sinks three fingers into you after a while, pumping them in and out as you enjoy the delicious stretch with closed eyes. You try to watch her, trying to enjoy the way her domineering eyes stare up at you like a wolf devouring its prey.

Your grip on her hair tightens as your walls clamp down around her fingers. “Fuck,” you huff. “Tasha, I’m gonna cum.” The words leave your lips in an urgent rush. One breath, and then two, and then three punctuate your claim.

She doesn’t stop. In fact, she speeds up. Her fingers thrust in and out of you, her tongue laves at your clit as she gives the occasional suck. Your only warning as you gush around her is a loud moan that tears from your throat. The pleasure comes in waves, crashing down on you as she happily laps up your release. Your legs jerk and your body trembles in response to your mind-numbing orgasm.

She eases out of you, her skin stained red as her hair and her breath hot as the water she’s enveloped in. She kisses the inside of your thighs a couple more times after you’ve come down, stroking her hands along your thighs. “Come here, omega,” she husks, easing you out of the chair and helping you into the tub with her. Your legs are still wobbly, weak from cumming so hard, and she treats you perfectly.

She lowers you into the water, letting the warmth surround you and ease your muscles. You let out a breathy sigh, eyes drooping as she brings you to straddle her waist. She leans forward, pressing her lips along your neck and chest until she’s groping your breasts again, taking a nipple into her mouth and suckling on it. You’re still moaning, sensitive and already wanting more as she treats you like royalty, as she treats you like hers.

She sets her hand under your bottom, lifting you up slightly as if to position you. When you feel a warm tip pressing at your folds, you hold your breath as you look at her with hooded eyes. She smiles, that confidence seeping back into her eyes at the look you give her. She kisses the space between your collarbones again and looks up at you, her eyes soft and warm.

“Do you want this?” she hums. “Do you want me?”

You nod instantly, leaning forward to kiss her lips, long and slow and just as passionately as the first. “Yes, Alpha,” you breathe against her kiss-swollen mouth. “Yes, I want it so fucking bad.”

She smiles, one that’s way too bright and way too happy for the dark look she’s giving you. She sets her hands on your hips, gripping you there for a moment as she keeps her eyes on your face. You never tear your eyes away, memorizing each shade of green of her eyes, each little fleck that highlights the ring surrounding her dark pupils.

You never take your eye away…until you feel her press inside of you. Long and thick, she fills you up inch by beautiful inch until she is buried to the hilt inside of you. You both let out long, deep sighs as you relish in the feeling of being so full. To stay like this forever would be a dream come true.

She lingers there, letting you get used to her as you clench and waver around her, squeezing her cock in the most amazing way. Your head falls back as your eyes roll to the back of your skull, feeling every ridge and vein she’s pushed inside of you. The pleasure is already so perfect, you don’t know how it could get any better.

Until she starts to move.

She begins to rock her hips, thrusting up inside of you as she guides your waist with her. You moan and gasp as the length of her strokes your walls in the best way possible. It starts out a little slower, trying to ease you into it as she clenches her teeth and stares at you, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. The desire sets into a fiery heat urges her to move faster.

The water sways back and forth, forming a steady rhythm with her insistent thrusts. You brace yourself on her shoulders, squeezing and gripping her there for support. “Just like that,” she breathes. “Doin’ so good for me, omega.”

You whine, burying your face in the crook of your neck as you rock your hips a little faster. The head of her cock presses against the deepest part of you, and you grind down in search of more, more, more. The water retaliates a little more when the pace picks up, rocking back and forth unsteadily as it laps along the sides of the tub and threatens to spill over onto the stone floor. Neither of you care—neither of you notice. You’re too wrapped up in the pleasure that’s filling you to the brim, pushing you to the absolute edge of ecstasy.

After a while, Natasha lets out a primal growl that almost makes you cum then and there. Her muscles flex, taut and lean and absolutely delicious. She wraps her arms around your waist and grips you tight before she sits up, readjusting your bodies so that you lay down against the opposite end of the tub. She grabs your hips in a firm grip and begins to thrust into you again. The new angle is like heaven, clouding your mind and filling it with nothing but Natasha.

Your moan climbs higher and higher, leaning towards desperate strings of cries filling the air and echoing along the walls. Her own husky moans mix with yours in a symphony of lust and absolute rapture. She buries her face in the crook of your neck, lapping at your wet skin as her teeth begin to tease your flesh. They feel a little sharper as her canines begin to protrude just a little more.

You wrap your legs around her waist, tightening your hold on her so her long strokes become shorter, rougher thrusts that threaten to make you scream for her—as if you aren’t loud enough. You claw at her back, digging your nails into her skin and raking downwards in a sudden need to grab something. She groans against the flesh of your throat.

She reaches between your bodies, the pad of her thumb playing with your clit to help push you further toward your breaking point. Your whole body jolts in response, and you bite your bottom lip so hard, you break the skin.

“Alpha!” you cry out. “Mm, ‘m gonna cum. Please, ‘m gonna cum again.”

Her breaths are ragged in your ear, short huffs punctuated by the thrust of her hips. “I know,” she pants. “I know. I’m right behind you.” Your legs tighten and she continues to grind down on you, desperate for that release that’s right around the corner.

She listens to the climbing of your moans, spurring her on until it’s too much to hold back. She curses loudly as she whispers into your ear, “Cum for me, omega. Cum for your Alpha.”

And you do. Gods, you do. With a loud cry, you let that name fall from your lips as you clamp down around her throbbing cock. You gush and gasp and wail as you cum harder than before.

Natasha can’t hold back anymore. She thrusts deep inside of you, burying herself as far as she’ll go as her teeth sink into the juncture of your neck and your shoulder and her hot cum spills inside of you. The pain of her bite mixes into a gripping pleasure as you feel her cock swell inside of you, a knot building bigger and bigger until you’re completely filled with her.

You both stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other as you ride out the highs that don’t seem to come down for a while. Everything calms in steps, one thing at a time slowing the heated air around you. Her jaw eases up as her teeth release your flesh. Her tongue laps at your skin, soothing the bite she’s left behind as an obvious claim. Your legs loosen around her waist, your body falling limp as you—very slowly—come down.

Natasha leans back to look at your face, still fully seated inside of you as she wipes some hair from your forehead and offers a bright smile. “Hey,” she whispers, bringing you back from wherever you’d run off to as she watches your far-off look. “Welcome back,” she says, leaning forward and kissing all over your face with tender care.

You smile at her. It’s a lopsided grin paired with droopy eyes, and it’s a look she instantly falls in love with. “Hey,” you respond, your voice just as lazy as your expression.

She carefully shifts again so she’s laying on her back, allowing you to rest against her chest as you both stay fully connected to the other. She strokes her fingers along your spine, easing you back to consciousness while the haze wears off, kissing your face and whispering sweet nothing into your ear.

You smile at her, some of your teasing from before slipping back into your voice as you lean back enough to see her pretty face. “See?” you prompt, “You’re not dangerous.” She chuckles, entirely amused and way too sidetracked by your kiss as she watches you. “You’re my Alpha.”

She smiles, a wide grin that makes your heart soar. “And my omega.”

You sigh, making a face as you tilt your head. “I dunno about that.”

Her brow raises in response. “Oh, yeah?” You nod adorably and she scoffs. “Maybe I should prove it again, then. That bite in your shoulder must not’ve gone deep enough.” Her fingers ghost over said bite and you bite your lip, leaning forward again to brush your mouth over hers.

“Maybe,” you softly challenge, molding your lips with hers once more. You chuckle against the other’s mouths, enjoying each other thoroughly. You sigh and pull away, resting your head in the crook of her neck as she holds you, still stroking your spine in a way that’s far too loving for someone she’s known for three days.

You bring your hand to stroke her opposite shoulder, your finger tracing patterns along her skin. “Natasha?” you whisper gently. She hums, her eyes closed as she leans her head back. You chew on your bottom lip, thinking for a moment before you respond. “Stay.” She turns her head toward you. You speak again, looking at her with hopeful eyes, “Just for a little longer. Maybe just one more day… I don’t think I’m ready to let you leave yet.”

Her lips spread in a smile as she presses them against your forehead. “My little witch,” she sighs dreamily. “You’ll probably have to put up with me for the next week. And, when I do leave, believe me when I say that I will keep coming back to claim you again.” She chuckles, glancing back at you once more as she speaks in a half growl, “Mine.”

You smile wide. “Maybe…” you trail off, “maybe one day I can join you. There’s a training witch in the village who can eventually take my place. Then…you and me, we could travel together…keep each other safe.”

Your heart is thumping in your chest as you await her response. And then it’s soaring when she beams at you with chuckles, “Sweetheart, I’d love nothing more.”

An excited chuckle climbs its way out of your throat as you settle closer somehow. You kiss the crook of her neck and sigh, closing your eyes. “Yeah… I’m keeping you.” She laughs gently in response, closing her eyes as she relaxes against you.

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