*Commissions Open: 1st Come 1st Served* 18+ Only Please! Hi! I'm Lizzi (30). I write smut. Lot's of it. Do not feed my Fics into AI, for the love writing. Overal, NSFW unless noted otherwise. If there's have a fandom/character/situation that doesn't get much smut, that's my jam.
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
In the spirit of encouraging people to comment on fanfics while also making it easier to do so, I feel obliged to share a browser extension for ao3 that has quite literally revolutionized the comment game for me.
I present to you: the floating ao3 comment box!
From what I've seen, a big problem for many people is that once you reach the comments at the bottom of a fic, your memory of it miraculously disappears. Anything you wanted to say is stuck ten paragraphs ago, and you barely remember what you thought while reading. This fixes that!
I'll give a little explanation on the features and how it works, but if you want to skip all that, here's the link.
Edit: Yes, this also works on mobile!
The extension is visible as a small blue box in the upper left corner.
(Side note: The green colouring is not from the extension, that's me.)
If you click on it, you open a comment box window at the bottom of your screen but not at the bottom of the fic. I opened my own fic for demonstrative purposes.
The website also gives explanations on how exactly it functions, but I'll summarize regardless.
insert selection -> if you highlight a sentence in the fic it will be added in italics to the comment box
add to comment box -> once you're done writing your comment, you click this button and the entire thing will automatically copied to the ao3 comment box
delete -> self explanatory
on mulitchapter fics, you will be given the option to either add the comment to just the current chapter or the entire fic
The best part? You can simply close the window the same way you opened it and your progress will automatically be saved. So you can open it, comment on a paragraph, and then close it and keep reading without having the box in your face.
Comments are what keep writers going, and as both a writer and a reader, I think it's such an easy way of showing support and enthusiasm.
tumblr staff will not contact you through anything other than email or their official accounts, which will all have this badge:
DO NOT ENGAGE WITH THIS OR SIMILAR ACCOUNTS AND ABSOLUTELY DO NOT CLICK ANY LINKS FROM IT.
report and block. i'd also appreciate it if you shared this post, bc that blog was JUST created and was already tagging a LOT of people, and i know not everyone has the scam-sensing instinct, even if this might seem obvious to some.
Can we potentially get a lil thing set in the Playroom verse with fluff between everyone? Pretty please? 🥺
I don't really have much inspiration for the Playroom at the moment, but here are some scenes that are almost kinda spicy yet fluffy?
Seth is on his knees, Finn's right foot pressing lightly on his crotch, and Seth is securing the sock garters on his husband while almost dizzy with want, because he's wearing a tie that used to be Finn's and had been wrapped around Finn's dick just last week; it may have been laundered thoroughly but Seth swears he can still smell Finn's musk on it, and Finn is brushing his fingers along Seth's scruff and murmuring praises that Seth is so attentive, so sweet, so loving a husband, how lucky Finn is to have him
Mustafa has beefed up spectacularly and Joe loves every ounce of muscle his baby's packed on, and when they spar, Joe doesn't have to hold back as much, and if Mustafa manages to land three consecutive blows before Joe can retaliate, his throat gets wonderfully wrecked, which is great incentive; Joe massages Mustafa after a day at the gym, and usually finishes the massage with a very happy ending
Tyler is busy as ever managing his burgeoning fashion empire, and Roman has his own business to oversee, but they always schedule date nights and no one is to disturb them unless there is an actual fire or someone is actively dying. They don't always go out; paparazzi aren't as interested in them anymore but there are still a few, and besides, Roman can cook dinner and flirt with his Tyler and ride Tyler's gorgeous dick anywhere in the mansion, they don't need to head outside for that.
And sometimes all six of them go on holiday together, but they split up for different activities - Tyler and Finn go shopping, Joe and Roman check out niche eating places, Mustafa and Seth wander the museums and secondhand bookshops - but they always end up having dinner together,
and if everyone gets tipsy then handsy with everyone else, no one is complaining; Roman is more comfortable with being kissed by other men now, because he knows that they won't ever push for more than that from him because that's all he is willing to give, and it makes him happy to see Tyler enjoying having Finn and Joe fill him up from both ends, while Mustafa and Seth make out sloppily right beside Roman, plus they sometimes pull him in for kisses too, and they're always so sweetly hungry for him that it isn't hard to feel flattered
There isn't a real fixed bedroom situation when they travel, but on the nights Joe sleeps alone for his own reasons, Mustafa is welcomed in any of the other beds, and Roman has found himself spooning Tyler and have his leg sprawled over Mustafa's flank as well; Seth sometimes joins the three because Finn is the only one who can go into Joe's room on such nights. What Finn and Joe do on these nights is usually very quiet, but they always emerge late in the morning and in much improved moods
Bucky Barnes and learning all the new things that come with parenthood! being milk drunk, newborn scrunches, the tiny noises at night!!! I'm so soft for this, please see the vision <3
There isn’t a single, cinematic moment where Bucky Barnes suddenly understands he’s a father. It’s quieter than that. Softer. It seeps into him in the spaces between heartbeats, in the way he reaches before he thinks, in how the world narrows instinctively to the small, warm weight resting against his chest.
The first night home, the apartment feels different. Not louder—though it will be—but fuller. Charged. Every sound means something now.
You’re half-asleep in bed when he sits upright beside you.
“She made a noise,” he whispers urgently.
You blink. “Babies make noises.”
“No, this was different.”
From the bassinet comes a tiny snuffle. A soft, congested little puff of air. Then a squeak. Then silence.
Bucky is already on his feet.
He leans over the bassinet like he’s guarding something sacred. In the dim light, her face is scrunched, lips pursed, fists curled up near her cheeks. She lets out a faint, dramatic sigh and settles.
“She’s fine,” you murmur.
He doesn’t move. His metal fingers hover over the edge of the bassinet, not touching, just close enough to feel her warmth.
“I know,” he says quietly. “I just want to make sure.”
That becomes a pattern. The tiny grunts at two in the morning. The sharp little inhalations that make his heart leap into his throat. The hiccup-squeaks that have him leaning over her in seconds flat.
He learns quickly that newborns are noisy sleepers. He learns that half the sounds that send him into a panic are just her adjusting, stretching, existing.
He doesn’t stop checking.
He just checks more calmly.
---
Days blur together in a haze of feedings and naps and the soft shuffle of his socked feet across the nursery floor. Bucky moves like he’s afraid of breaking something at first. He holds her like she’s made of glass.
But babies aren’t glass.
They’re warm and wiggly and surprisingly opinionated.
The first time he feeds her on his own, he looks terrified.
“What if I do it wrong?”
“You won’t.”
He settles into the couch, broad frame carefully arranged around her tiny body. His flesh hand supports her head. His metal hand steadies the bottle with slow, precise movements, adjusting the angle every few seconds like he’s calibrating delicate machinery.
She latches onto the bottle with surprising determination.
“Oh,” he breathes, stunned.
Her cheeks puff in and out as she eats. There’s milk at the corner of her mouth. Her eyelids grow heavy halfway through, fluttering lazily.
By the time she’s done, she’s completely limp against him. Boneless. Milk-drunk and content. Her mouth hangs open slightly, breath warm against his shirt.
Bucky just stares.
“She looks like she just had the best day of her life.”
You smile from where you’re watching. “She probably did.”
He adjusts her carefully against his chest, letting her rest there. And something in his shoulders softens. Something in his spine unwinds.
“She trusts me,” he says quietly.
It’s not a question.
It’s wonder.
---
He becomes obsessed with the way she curls.
It happens most often after diaper changes or baths. The second she’s laid back down, her knees pull up instinctively. Her arms tuck close. Her whole body folds inward like she’s trying to recreate a shape she remembers.
The newborn scrunch.
The first time he notices it, he freezes mid-swipe of a burp cloth.
“Hey,” he calls softly. “Come look at this.”
You step closer, and there she is—tiny and folded, face scrunched in mild outrage at the cold air.
“She looks like she’s trying to go back,” he murmurs.
Your heart squeezes at the tone in his voice.
“She’ll stretch out more as she grows.”
He doesn’t like that answer.
He scoops her up before she can protest, bringing her against his chest. Instantly, she curls there too. Tucks in. Fits.
His chin rests lightly on top of her head.
“Okay,” he whispers to her. “You can stay right here for now.”
He memorizes that feeling—the way her body molds to him. The way her breathing evens out when his does. The way her tiny fingers flex against his shirt like she’s anchoring herself.
Sometimes he’ll catch himself just watching her sleep against him, counting the rise and fall of her chest like it’s the most important job in the world.
Maybe it is.
---
Parenthood, he realizes, isn’t one big transformation. It’s a hundred small ones.
It’s learning the difference between her hungry cry and her overtired cry.
It’s recognizing that little “neh” sound she makes right before she starts wailing for food.
It’s discovering she calms faster when he hums low in his chest rather than sings.
It’s the way he instinctively sways now, even when he’s holding nothing at all.
One afternoon, you find him in the nursery rocking chair long after she’s fallen asleep. He hasn’t put her down yet. He just sits there, moving gently back and forth, eyes distant.
“You can lay her down,” you whisper.
“I know.” He looks down at her, at the way her cheek is squished against his shirt, at the faint milk-sweet scent clinging to her. “I just… I don’t want to miss anything.”
You understand what he means.
He’s missed enough in his life.
He won’t miss this.
---
Weeks pass, and he grows into it without noticing.
His movements lose their hesitation. His hands become sure. The metal one that once hovered now cups the back of her head with confidence, adjusts her swaddle, pats her back in slow, steady rhythms.
He doesn’t flinch at every noise anymore.
But he still wakes before the monitor even crackles.
He still leans over the bassinet sometimes just to make sure she’s real.
One night, when the room is lit only by the faint glow of the hallway light, she wakes fussing. Not crying. Just unsettled.
Bucky lifts her first.
He presses her gently against his chest, one broad palm spanning her tiny back. She squirms for a moment, then stills. Her fist finds the collar of his shirt.
His voice is barely more than a rumble.
“I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
Her breathing slows. Her body relaxes fully against him, milk-drunk from the earlier feed and heavy with sleep. She makes a small, satisfied sigh and melts into him.
He exhales like he’s been holding it all his life.
Later, when he climbs back into bed, he doesn’t say anything dramatic. He just reaches for your hand in the dark and squeezes it.
There’s awe in him still. There probably always will be.
But it’s steadier now.
Less panic. More certainty.
He knows the nighttime noises. Knows the newborn scrunch. Knows the weight of her, the smell of her, the way she fits against him like she was always meant to be there.
And as he drifts to sleep, the bassinet pulled just a little closer to his side of the bed, one thing settles deep and solid in his chest:
For the first time in a very long time, he isn’t bracing for something to be taken.
Could you do NSFW KINKS for Wardlow ? please and thank you
AN: Hi, I hope you like it x
I don't really know him so I did it off vibes only ;)
Wardlow
Size Difference
Have you seen him? He does enjoy being the larger one in the bedroom; you completely disappear beneath him. He enjoys having something to hold and grope possessively and with hunger. His arms wrap around your body as he fills you; every inch of you is surrounded by him. And surrendered.
Favourite Position
Doggy Style.
His hand coming down on your ass as he makes you fuck yourself back against him, again and again. Sometimes he presses you back into the sheets; his cock pushing deeper at the new position.
Oral Sex
He would allow you to ride his face; his larger hands reaching for your hips to keep you there. One climax would not do either - he will be pulling many from you until you are begging for him to stop, and he still might not listen.
Gagging
He enjoys more makeshift gags rather than toys; but he will use them as well even though he very much gets off on the noises you make. But when you whine and drool for him over the gag; it's nearly enough to make him lose it. He is very quiet during sex as well, some grunts escaping him but it's usually his groping and harsh grips that give him away.
Wardlow is back in the Don Callis Family. With his return, Callis tries to re-initiate him with an-ill timed event to get Wardlow back on Family time. But you have the perfect way to get your lover out of such schemes.
Pairing: Wardlow x Female!Reader
Warnings/Promises: Don Callis (yes, he deserves his own warning), petty sleep deprivation, SMUT, somnophilia (if you squint), oral (female receiving)
Word Count: 2865
Note: Here I am… back on my bullshit. Did you guys think you had heard the last of me? Nope. Just took a break to write a huge project that was supposed to be like… 10 chapters. Tops. Instead? Twenty. Five. Chapters! Because my word count has no chill. Anywho… here is my first smutty fic in months while I wait for the War Dog to show back up on my screen. Please let me know how you liked the fic with comments and reblogs <3 Happy reading!
The hotel was a welcome sight. Why Callis insisted that everyone stay in the same resting place was beyond you. It probably had something to do with The Don’s insistence on having control over everything at any given time.
You had complained the whole way, of course. Wardlow kept his opinions to himself while The Don was in the room, but he agreed with you in silently rolled eyes and his fingers pinched over the bridge of his nose. He did try to ask for a hotel closer to the arena they had just come from… but Callis could not be swayed.
“The hotel I choose is closer to tomorrow’s events. So there will be less travel time and we won’t feel rushed.” He smirked, oblivious as even Kyle Fletcher rolled his eyes behind The Don’s back. “And this one is of higher quality than any in the last town. I’m footing the bill for you guys, so what’s a slightly longer drive?” He clapped Wardlow on the back. “And this one has a huge gym. We’ll have plenty of room to work out together in the morning.”
Leading the way, but also somehow managing to mother-duck the other Family members into the lobby, Callis quickly and loudly made his presence known to the employee at the front desk. He ignored the shushing from the guys around him.
Wardlow bumped your shoulder. “He lost one.”
You followed his gaze, spotting Kyle still standing by Callis’s car. The sight made you chuckle. “Poor guy is out on his feet. He had a hard match tonight. Even with your surprise help.”
By the car, Kyle’s bag was on the ground by his feet. But he had the handle in his hand. He was a little distance away, but you assumed his eyes were closed. If a strong breeze picked up, he was at risk of toppling over with the way he kept swaying.
Taking a deep breath, you prepared to raise your voice. “Mister Fletcher! Please stop dilly-dallying and get in the building! Please?”
Wardlow coughed through a laugh as the Protostar startled awake on his feet. “Dilly dallying?”
“It got his attention, didn’t it?”
“I guess so.”
On Kyle’s way by, Wardlow tried to take his bag, but Kyle switched it to his other side and out of Wardlow’s reach with a smile. You all walked into the lobby together where Callis was just handing out room cards.
“Takeshita and Andrade in three-oh-four. Ah, there you are. Kyle you’re in three-oh-six, with me. Wardlow you’re in three-oh-three with Okada. Your missus has a room to herself down the hall.”
“What?” You gently dropped your bag. You’d gotten used to having Wardlow by your side at night during his recovery. Were you really going to be split up so soon?
Apparently not. Wardlow dragged his wallet out of his back pocket and headed towards the desk. “Like hell she is. If it’s a trouble of being on your dime, it doesn’t have to be.”
Callis sputtered and caught him before he reached the desk. “Hey, it’s no problem. I just thought—well. The security of rooming together—never mind. Apparently, we can work on getting us all on the same string of thought later. It won’t take much. She can room with you. No problem. Okada? Are you okay with having your own room down the hall?”
Okada smugly glanced over at Takeshita. “No problem. More room for me.”
The Alpha rolled his eyes back.
Your eyes sparkled as you glanced over the group. “Actually, why doesn’t Okada keep his room, and I keep mine? Then you all can be together and Okada isn’t down the hall by his lonesome. For security reasons?” Before Callis could retort, you snagged the last key card in his hand. Wardlow passed his to Okada, much to Takeshita’s amusement. He grabbed your bag and followed you closely to the elevator. You left them all in the lobby.
In the room, Wardlow shook his head. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to get used to Callis. He’s used to doing things his way.”
You began setting out your things and his. In the morning, there would be no rushing around looking for items like socks and jewelry. “I expected a little of his antics. But assigning rooms? What is this? A high school trip to Disney World?” You snorted. “What else do you think he has planned? That comment about getting you on the same string of thought—”
He slid up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and smoothing his hands across your stomach. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll probably have some team work-out planned. Nothing I didn’t have in Gladiators.” He inhaled the scent of your hair deeply, his body sagging against yours. He added softly, “I’m glad you’re here.”
Your hands slid over his. “I’m happy you wanted me to come with you. I – I was afraid I would slow you down.”
With a disgruntled hum, Wardlow turned you around so he could tilt your face up towards him. “That would never happen.” His face lit up with a soft smile. “Besides, now I have someone to show off for.”
“Hey,” you said, poking him in the chest, “I’m here to work. I’ve got to keep you out of trouble. No matter what Callis cooks up. I won’t have you getting caught in the middle of whatever happens between Takeshita and Okada.”
“And yet… you didn’t hesitate to make sure we had the larger room to ourselves.” His brow arched as you glanced away. “Troublemaker.”
“Only for special occasions. Did you want to wash up first?”
His arms tightened around you. “We’re not going to shower together?”
“No,” you said with a smile. You pushed him away and started to collect your nightly things. “It’s a hotel remember. There won’t be enough room in there for the both of us, Mr. Giant Muscles.”
He didn’t press the matter. But he didn’t mind the view of you through the glass walls while he brushed his teeth either. And if he noticed you showed off for a bit, he didn’t comment.
***
A harsh set of rapping sounded on the door several hours later. “Hey, War Dog! Up and at ‘em!”
Wardlow bolted up as you fought your way out from under the covers. “Don. Dammit.”
“Wardlow!”
With a growl, Wardlow hurried to toss on his basketball shorts. “He’s gonna wake the whole floor. Stay here.”
At the door, he fumbled with the locks until he could swing it open.
“Mornin’ War Dog.” Callis was bright and chipper, dressed in an expensive t-shirt and basketball shorts of his own. His sneakers didn’t look like they had ever touched pavement. “Are you ready for our morning work out?”
“What?” Wardlow dragged a hand down his face. “What work out? You said call time was seven am.”
“It is. For interviews and such. But we’ve got to make time for team activities.”
He sagged against the door frame. “Don… it’s two in the morning.”
Don spread his hands wide and his smile brightened to fluorescent levels. “The best time to work out! Gives you time to rest before and after before starting your day. So come on. Don’t worry about a shirt; show off those great pecs and let’s go. It’s cardio day.”
Moaning, you made sure there was plenty of whine in your voice as you joined them at the door. You snuggled into Wardlow’s side, keeping your eyes sleepily closed. “Darling, where did you go? You took all the waaaarm with you.” As his arm wrapped around your shoulders, you let out a contented hum. “Come back to bed,” you drawled.
Wardlow’s grip on you tightened. He leveled his gaze with Callis. “Can we do this later?”
“Baby, you can do me any time,” you breathed.
Even with your eyes closed, you could imagine what Callis’s face looked like as he sputtered. And you were sure Kyle’s face was probably as pink as his gear. Wardlow’s torso contracted like it did when he was trying not to laugh.
He nodded. “We’ll work out together on a different day. I’ll see you guys at seven. Don’t worry about my cardio.” With that, he closed the door in Callis’s face.
The both of you waited for the sound of them all leaving before you both started laughing.
He hurried to catch his breath. “You really are something. Man… I should have brought you along years ago.” His grin widened as you snagged his wrist and dragged him back towards the bed.
“You didn’t know me years ago. Goodness. Could you imagined what I could have done to Friedman? We would have killed each other.” You burrowed back under the sheets, only slightly put out that they had lost their warmth. But Wardlow’s body laying close next to yours quickly fixed that problem.
***
Wardlow smacked his phone to mute the alarm before it could wake you. Six a.m. He groaned. The morning call after months of waking up when he wanted to wouldn’t have been so rough if there hadn’t been a two a.m. interruption to his sleep. He glanced at you.
The sheets had slid back down to your waist. The tank top you slept in was clinging for dear life onto your chest; the straps had surrendered their spots on your shoulders. Wardlow loved the view of your back, shoulder to shoulder, bared for him and ready for a line of kisses. In your sleep, you tried to wiggle back into his side for the warmth that had disappeared when he sat up.
As you reached for him, he stretched out to run his fingertips over the expanse of your bared skin. You shivered under his touch, sighing.
He had an hour. Maybe if he was quiet, and moved slow, he could wake you up in your favorite way.
Carefully, he slipped out from under the sheets on his side of the bed. The queen-sized mattress would have been the perfect size had this just been your room. It had barely fit the both of you. But it was a shorter expanse to escape than the king-size he had at home. With a few quiet steps, he stopped by your hip on your side of the bed. The sheets barely ruffled as he dragged them away from your body. Your tank had also ridden up in your sleep. Because there was the curve of your hip, and then the … those were his boxers. He’d wondered where that set went. Well then, he grinned. He needed to take them back anyway.
The sheets ended up in the floor so he would have the room to take his boxers back. You were so good for him. All this effort, and you never made a peep, never shifted or seemed to wake up. Your hip titled to one side so he could catch a good view of his goal between your thighs. He risked waking you up with a lingering kiss to the back of your hairline.
How did he want to do this? For a lazy morning, he liked sliding back into bed right behind you so he could kiss the back curve of your neck and gently stroke his fingers over your slit. That way he could feet your whole body rocking against his within minutes. But there wasn’t time for that this morning. Or at least, not the long session of love-making that usually followed. What he wanted most, was a taste. Breakfast. But you were on your side. He would have to be careful.
Gently, Wardlow lifted up your thigh, using the leverage to slowly move you to your back. He sucked his fingers into his mouth before sliding them between your lower lips. Your body responded in record time to the few circles his thumb flicked over your bud. Again he sucked his fingers into his mouth. He had to bite back a moan.
The angle was awkward as he tried to keep you still and asleep. But soon his nose was against your mound and his mouth against your opening. It became impossible for him to hold back his pleased noises as your body gave him want he wanted. Your awakening wasn’t as slow as he intended. But he also knew you wouldn’t mind. It didn’t take much movement from his tongue before your hips were rotating against his face. He hummed against your sex.
Your eyes popped open as he knelt on the bed, lifting your hips up to face. Your hands scrabbled against the headboard. You were soaked. And his pleased humming was punctuated with noisy sucking and slurping of a man who knew what he was doing. “Baby?” You gasped. Eyes fluttering, you whimpered as your body chased the need to fall apart on his tongue. “But your call time?”
He grinned, pulling away so you could catch your breath and also so you could catch the sight of his mouth dripping with you. “Don’t worry about it. But I’ve got to get my cardio in.”
Dropping your hips, he lifted you by your waist so he could lay you width-wise across the bed. It was a trick he had figured out on some trip you two took. With you laying this way, he wouldn’t wake the whole floor with rocking the headboard against the wall. But that trick only worked if you could keep quiet too.
You tried. You really did.
With your hand clamped over your mouth, you managed to muffle the groan that spilled out as Wardlow… well, the phrase you kept landing on was “massaging his cock” into where you wanted him most. The pace was slow. Deliberate. In and out as you woke up for him. But once he was fully seated, your ability to be quiet quickly crumbled.
He chuckled above you as your yelps of pleasure slipped past your fingers. The snap of his hips against yours wasn’t quiet either. But the drag of his cock through your walls fluttering around him made him ignore the presence of any potential neighbors. For all he knew, Callis had actually bought out the floor. If Wardlow could have you in his bed every morning, traveling or not, maybe the bankroll would have to deal with the cost.
His eyes screwed shut against his will. His thighs tensed. His hands flexed against their grip on your hips, trying not to bruise you even as he thrusted closer and closer to release. But he wanted to see you. He forced his eyes open.
You had given up trying to meet his thrusts. There was no way you could angle yourself against his movements. He was relentless. Never losing speed or letting up for a moment. The coil beneath your belly wound tighter and tighter. Your hands fisted at the sheets, desperate to ground yourself against the souring pleasure that overloaded your senses. You cracked open your vision, and locked eyes with him.
You fell apart.
Body seizing, thighs trembling, you gasped as he pushed all the air out of your lungs with his thrusts. You were thrashing from overstimulation before he began to fill you with his own release. His pace slowed. His hand smoothed over your stomach and up to your breasts, giving one of them a squeeze as he pulled out.
He collapsed over you.
“Good morning.”
He chuckled. Kissing the underside of your jaw, he hummed, “good morning.”
For a few minutes, you both relished in the afterglow. Your fingers wove their way into his hair. Gently stroking your fingers over his scalp, you were almost afraid he had gone back to sleep. But he shook himself, defensive against that possibility.
“We don’t have much time,” he said. He got off the bed, but not before letting his gaze linger over you and your flushed, happy expression. “I think that shower is bigger than you thought. We can both fit.”
You tossed your arm over your eyes as you smiled. The War Dog? Hmm. How about leader of men in having a one-track mind?
He took hold of your ankle and used it to drag you to the end of the bed. “Please?”
Sitting on up on the end of the bed, you leaned into the palm he held against your cheek. “What if I want to sleep in while you have your Callis Family Morning?” Suddenly he lifted you up with his arm around your waist, making you yelp. “Hey!”
“Come on.” His grin was bright and mischievous. “We’ve got time.”
It was five minutes after seven when you guys made it to the lobby. Callis looked like he was about to launch into a stern lecture, but then he noticed your embarrassed, but blissful, smile and thought better of it.
Callis cleared his throat. “Alrighty then. Load up!” The other family members jumped when you yelped. Wardlow waved them on. He waited until they were mostly out the door before kissing the curve of your neck. You accepted his apology for slapping your ass too hard, but gave him an ass-tap of your own when nobody was watching.
***
Master List
Wrestling Masterlist
Other Wardlow Fics:
Screams of Terror and Pleasure (Ghostface October 2025, Smut)
ooo exciting exciting!! for the ask game with dick grayson, please!
"He can’t remember what his mom’s voice sounded like."
He can't remember what his mom's voice sounded like.
Dick stuttered to a stop in the middle of his sentence, licking his lips in a half-hearted attempt to disguise his sudden pause. Not that it worked, his siblings all staring at him with varying degrees of suspicion and discomfort, but he was too distracted to worry about that. Too busy hunting up and down the recently renovated labyrinth that was his memory, searching desperately for the faintest echo of the voice he'd grown up holding anchored to his heart.
When had he lost it? How had he not noticed before now? Was his amnesia to blame, or no, how could it be, when even then he'd remembered where he came from, he'd never forgotten that, not for a moment, not for - but obviously that couldn't be true, could it? Not when home was people, when home was his parents, and at some point he'd lost even the memory of her cadences, the rhythm and lilt of her softly spoken but everpresent "Oh how I love you, my little Robin," and, and - the worst of it was he hadn't even noticed.
"Dick, what's wrong?" He heard Tim ask. Registered it faintly. Even went to open his mouth and say "I can't remember. I can't remember what she sounds like," but a split second before the first syllable escaped he realized that would be too much like a confession and he wasn't ready to be absolved for this particular sin. And they would, he knew, they were only indulging him in listening to him retell the same childhood story they'd heard a dozen times before because they knew how much it meant to him, and they'd stumble over themselves reassuring him that this was normal, that this meant nothing, that this was fine.
But right in this moment, the panic at this encore of his loss like a claw around his throat, squeezing the air from it, locking tight his frantic apologies to a ghost just present enough to haunt him, but never enough to hear.....nothing about this was fine. He didn't want it to be fine. Even if this was normal, even if it was just due to the inevitable passage of time and decaying of memory, that was a truth he wasn't ready to accept. So he didn't.
"Nothing. I'm okay, I just....remembered something I have to do," Dick said instead. His eyes roved past them distractedly, not even bothering to alight on their varying looks of skepticism. He just....needed to be out of there. Maybe then he could remember how to breathe.
"Yeah, so that's a whole fucking lie," Jason drawled from where he'd been lounging against the doorframe, pretending not to listen in. But even he couldn't totally hide the swift flicker of concern that winged across his face when Dick stumbled past him and out the door without so much as acknowledging his jab.
*****
It was impossible to say how long had passed when he heard the knock on his bedroom door. Time tends to lose meaning when deep in the throes of self-recrimination. And Dick hadn't been doing much else since he stumbled up to his childhood bedroom on the second floor of the Manor, planted himself on his bed and dropped his head into his hands. His fingers raked through his hair, gripped it so tight at the roots his knuckles paled from the strain, but it didn't help.
Let the punishment fit the crime, so the saying goes, but he was at a loss for what was apropos for something he'd long believed could never happen. Until it did, with so little fanfare he never even noticed.
"Go away," he shouted at the door when it vibrated again under another series of knocks. He was past the point of pretending he hadn't been obvious in his distress, so when the door ignored his command and swung open to allow his siblings to pile in, he raised his head and glared bleary-eyed at Jason where he casually sauntered in at the head of the pack.
"Oh I'm sorry, didn't you say come in? My bad. Guess I heard you wrong," Jason said without a hint of remorse. He plopped himself on the edge of Dick's desk and picked at something stuck in his teeth. Dick kept the heat on, and eventually his little brother flicked his eyes back up towards him and shrugged. "Hey don't look at me. The Oompa-Loompa Brigade has something to show you. I'm just bored. My soaps are on sweeps."
It was a testament to the somber atmosphere that Damian barely even bristled at the dig, and all it took was Cassandra's gentle hand on his shoulder to get him to subside. Dick took a deep breath and rubbed a hand briskly across his face, trying to make an Etch-a-Sketch of his feelings and repaint something a little more reassuring in its place. Given the dubious looks that greeted him when he finally turned to face the rest of his younger siblings, he wasn't that successful.
Great. Fantastic. Everything was coming up daisies today, huh.
"What's up, guys?" He asked tiredly, summoning a wan smile. Tim volunteered as tribute and stepped in front of the others.
"Soooooo, uh, since we couldn't help but notice that you were totally lying about being fine downstairs - "
"It's almost like we're a family of detectives," Jason supplied. Tim shot a glare in his direction, not amused by his cavalier delivery.
"Yes, thanks for the closed captioning Jay."
"No problem. Here to help."
"I thought you were just bored," Damian growled at him. Jason barely blinked.
"I excel at multi-tasking."
"Anyway," Tim raised his voice with emphasis. "We were trying to figure out what had happened or was said that might have, well, upset you..."
"And then Thomas used his intrusive powers," Damian began only to have Duke jump in right on his heels.
"My powers aren't intrusive! They're no different from picking up clues the same way any of us do, I just have slightly more access to clues that you don't. You're just mad someone can do something you can't."
"He's the same way with me," Cass pointed out, though the twist of her lips suggested she was more amused than anything.
"Can I finish a fucking sentence, please?"
"Uh-oh," Jason jumped in after Tim. "The blue blood dropped a swear. Shit's getting real, y'all."
"Guys," Dick began, not sure how much patience he could muster at the moment for the usual family circus. Normally that turn of phrase popping up in his thoughts would bring an ironic but comforting smile at the callback to his childhood, but for various reasons, that was not quite as comforting today as it was at other times.
Luckily, they all sobered at his voice and the seeming reminder of whatever it was they were here for.
"So like, you know how Cass has been helping me with my lip-reading and also picking up body clues when I get like, glimpses of possible futures from my ghost vision?" Duke picked up somewhat nervously. Dick nodded reassuringly, not quite sure where they were going with this and Duke eased up considerably. He was still somewhat uncomfortable with his powers and how he even felt about them, and had likely put a fair bit of bravado into his insistence there was nothing intrusive about whatever it was he'd done. Dick absently took note. That was something they really needed to pay more attention to. Maybe he should ask Raven or Lilith or one of the other Titans with extra-sensory powers to sit down with him and give him the whole spiel about not feeling guilty for having intel-gathering powers you couldn't wholly turn off.
"Okay, so I kinda sorta noticed that you did say something that I picked up with my powers before you like....changed your mind and shut down and left instead?" Duke continued, still somewhat hesitant.
Shit, Dick thought, and he wanted to shut his eyes to process the realization of just what Duke had seen, but that was the last thing Duke's self-consciousness needed right now and it wasn't like it was going to change anything at this point. Then again, he realized belatedly, for all he knew Duke already picked up that he'd been about to do that anyway. He made a mental note to also talk to Raven and Lilith himself, about how to avoid reactions that your little brother with ESP would pick up and then feel bad about.
"So I kinda like, compared notes with Cass about what I'd seen," -
"You should've seen it," Jason cut in again with a hoot of laughter, ignoring the glare from their other siblings. Dick had to hide a small smile despite himself. Jason's antics might appear as nothing but abrasiveness to the rest of the family, but none of them knew their brother as well as he did, and he remembered well Jay's rather unique methods of diffusing tension. It was nice to see they worked as well now as they had when Jason was fourteen. "It was like, the worst game of charades I've ever seen. Just. Painfully awkward. I think I might have actually died again while watching it."
"Thanks ever so much for that," Duke said acidly.
"Just keeping you humble, Super-Sleuth."
"More like he's jealous too," Cass opined with a sniff. She held her hand up for Duke to high-five. "He knows we're the top detectives here."
Duke took the opening with a small smile, high-fiving her with a reassured vigor. "That's right. Sherlock and Watson who?"
"Never heard of them," Cass returned. She slanted a slight smirk towards Dick. Well, of course she knew how to accurately interpret Jason's antics as well. It was nice to see her wade in when in years past she would have just kept that knowledge to herself and watched from the sidelines.
Ugh. Dammit. Stupid, well-meaning siblings. Here they were making him feel better despite his best efforts. This was exactly what he hadn't want to happen. They really needed more effective locks on their doors. But then again, nothing short of like, Fort Knox level security really slowed any of them down.
And speaking of slowing down, Damian then apparently decided they were all taking way too long and simply strode over to Dick's laptop next to Jason. He started typing away while picking up the thread of conversation.
"The point is Thomas ascertained that you were discomfited to realize you no longer remembered what your mother's voice sounded like," Damian said. They all winced and looked at Dick uncertainly in the wake of his blunt recitation of the issue at hand, but Dick barely blinked. He was well-accustomed to the youngest's....unique handling of delicate topics. This was progress, actually.
"Wait, so you'll give me grief for using my powers, but you'll just jump right in and run off with the fruits of that huh? Nice," Duke grumbled.
Damian looked at him flatly. "You already did the deed, why should I not make use of the knowledge it provided? I fail to see the issue."
"How'd I know you'd find a way to take credit for this?"
"I don't know, maybe you saw it with your powers."
They finally reached the limit of Tim's patience and he took over. Stalking over to Dick's laptop, he literally hip-checked Damian, who fell to the floor with a squawk and narrowed-eyes that vowed retribution. Then again, that was normal for them so it only made sense Tim wouldn't be phased.
"The point is," Tim enunciated, glaring around the room as if daring further interruptions. "It occurred to me then that Bruce probably discouraged you from looking up stuff about your parents online when you were younger. Given the sensationalism around. Y'know."
He trailed off uncomfortably, but he'd said enough. Suddenly having a dizzying inclination of just what the hell all of this was about, Dick stumbled gracelessly to his feet and wavered in the direction of the computer.
"Enter, the Fanboy," Jason proclaimed with a sideways gesture at both Tim and the computer. Tim flushed but just rolled his eyes and pulled out the desk chair for Dick to sit.
He did so, his hungry gaze devouring the screen where the boys had pulled up youtube and already fed their prompts into it.
"Yeah, yeah, we all know I'm a Flying Graysons fan, yuck it up. At least that meant I know where all the good clips are online."
Dick clicked on the first link, eyes glued to loading wheel. It seemed to circle endlessly, an ouroborous in no hurry to finish off its own tail.
"There's actually a fair amount out there," Tim finished gently. "I mean, your parents were pretty famous. This video is from a workshop they taught at in the early 2000s, with a bunch of acrobat troupes from all the big circuses."
The screen loaded finally, and Dick choked off a startled exclamation as the backdrop and costumes filled it with an explosion of color.
"I recognize this," he said dazedly. "It was one of the last of these they ever did. I was like five, I think. After that they were too busy working with me on our act and they turned down their invitations to these things."
"Yeah, you can actually see you running around in the backdrop," Tim said softly. His finger reached past Dick's face to trace the path of his younger self as the five year old ghost of the him that was raced from behind the stands to the far corner of the screen. Dick's eyes blurred as he saw his father step forward to lift him in his arms and toss him gently into the air. For a moment it all rushed back to him, and he could feel the strength of his dad's arms wrapped comfortingly around him, holding him tight.
"I can't believe you found these. I never - I never even thought of...." he shook his head, disbelief and gratitude and a million other emotions warring in his chest. "Tim. Thank you."
His brother blushed. "It was a group effort."
"I know," he nodded, heart in his throat. "Duke, Cass, Jay, Dami.....thank you. All of you."
Dick swiveled in his chair to look each of them in the eye, trying to burn the intensity of what he was feeling into the look that hopefully conveyed more than mere words ever could. They ducked their heads uncomfortably - being terrible with handling thanks was after all a family tradition.
Then he jolted his attention back to the screen. His mom was there then. Center stage, reigning over it with all the effortless grace she'd exuded every day of his life, calling out and welcoming the gathered attendees to the first day of the workshop. Her voice rang out from the speakers with a familiarity that rushed back through the corridors of his mind and pierced all the way to his heart as though it had never been absent, not even for a second. Like it had been there all along, like it belonged. Like it lived there, and it was calling out to him the same way she'd once called out to him from the steps of the trailer as he raced back from the elephants' enclosure for dinner. Calling him home.
It was birdsong and gentle lullabies to the backdrop of May showers. It was shouted exultations over the roar of an outdoor crowd on a breeze-filled April night. It was the hum of early morning chores while he stretched outside the kitchen window, beneath her watchful eye.
you get a comment on tumblr. it's a bot trying to scam you. you get a DM. it's a bot trying to scam you. you get a message on instagram. its a bot trying to scam you. you're an author and you get an email telling you how much they loved your book and want to showcase it at their bookclub. it's a bot trying to scam you (and it uses bad AI to pretend it knows your story). you get a comment on ao3 saying how much they love your fic - and they made you fanart!! it's a bot trying to scam you. you get a hate comment on ao3 which insults your writing or calls you a monster for writing something "problematic". it's a bot. but at least that one isn't trying to scam you.
there's just something really cruel and insidious about this wave of scams going after creatives. You get an email and think someone genuinely loved what you made but - no. It's another scam. It's someone trying to trick you into sending them money. On AO3, it might literally just be a bot someone made specifically to be a hateful little shit.
putting the stuff you've made out there for everyone to see is hard and scary and we're all just bumping around looking for a bit of appreciation and love and connection and these bastards are using that to try to rob us. I hate it.
Thinking about TyRo and how Roman becomes this cryptic almost famous very hot boyfriend - eventually husband - of his very hot and gay celebrity Tyler Breeze (whose claim to fame was his rat bastard ex selling videos and photos of their BDSM sessions and later using said notoriety to launch a fashion brand and then a book that he wrote himself)
Like the articles always have speculation about Roman but he does not allow interviews and his company sealed his records and once he has enough experience and connections to start his own security firm he is basically a shadow who occasionally allows journalists to take photos of him when he is playing the role of Tyler's partner
And under all that they are in a polyamorous arrangement that also includes an ex assassin and an ex power broker for assassins and other influential figures. W
part 2 of ? | thor odinson | 4.6k words | angst, romantic relations (smut - 18+)
part 1 - frank castle
author's note: pls don't assume ai wrote this because of the sporadic emdashes - ai couldn't make this fic more cringe than i can. i'm aware not all fics can be winners, but here, mommy made you some content.
author's note #2: i was listening to 'A Year Without Rain' by Selena Gomez and was inspired by the lyric "Do you feel me? When I think about you." and this was the product.
White wine.
The only thing keeping you from losing your mind with each stop along the ride up to your floor is a nice, large glass of chilled white wine.
Your head is pounding. It was a long day at the office. “The office” being Avengers tower after an alien attack. Sam called you in a panic late this morning, begging you to get uptown as fast as you can to help heal your injured teammates.
Your energy was nearly drained dry by the time everyone affected was healed. Just as you were leaving, the sky opened up. Heavy drops of rain, lightening, thunder—the works. Your wet clothes cling to your body and loose tendrils of hair hang from the low bun at the nape of your neck.
The elevator dings, signaling that you’ve finally reached your destination. Your key turns in the lock and it gives too easily.
The door was already unlocked.
Your brows furrow.
No matter how frantic the call, you always lock your door.
Your jaw clenches and you brace yourself as you slowly, carefully enter the threshold.
Alpine chirps when she sees you, jumping down from the back of the couch and welcoming you by weaving between your legs. You nearly jump out of your skin when a six foot brunette pops his head out from the kitchen.
“Looks like you could use a drink.” Bucky grins, stirring whatever contents was in the skillet that he was tending to on the stove.
Your jaw clenches and the smile fades from Bucky’s features.
“What I could have used was a warning you were coming over.” The door slams behind you and you thumb through the notifications on your phone. “Not a voicemail, a missed call, not even a damn text message, Buck?”
He lowers his gaze, cowering under yours. “Sorry,” He tucks his hair behind his ear and smiles softly. “Your spare key was in the same spot, so I let myself in when I realized you weren’t home. I meant to call, but it slipped my mind when Alpine greeted me.”
Your expression softens slightly. You never were capable of staying angry with him for long. A fact you’re almost certain he’s aware of.
“Dinner is almost ready.” He declares. “Go get comfortable and I’ll have a glass waiting for you.”
You don’t have the energy to bite his head off about inviting himself into your home. Not when he was slaving over a hot stove preparing a meal for you after a hard day.
“Chardonnay is in the fridge. Make it a generous pour.” You call over your shoulder before disappearing behind your bedroom door.
Your clothes thud on the floor as you remove each garment. Goosebumps rise on your damp, exposed flesh and a chill runs down your spine as you hurriedly change into a dry t-shirt and sweatpants. Upon walking back into the kitchen, you take a long swig of the dry wine that goes down as easily as water.
Bucky twirls a fork around the pasta he’s been perfecting, offering a taste test. Lemon and garlic sauce over angel hair, your favorite. Your spirits are instantly lifted and you smile up at him. You set the glass down on the counter and wrap your arms around his torso, sighing softly when he returns the embrace.
“I had an overstimulating afternoon. Sorry for being a bitch.”
Bucky chuckles and kisses the top of your head. “You have an overstimulating life. You don’t owe me any apologies, especially when I’m the one encroaching upon your space.”
It dawns on you that he had returned from a two month long mission. You begin examining over him, lifting his shirt to look for injuries.
“Trying to get me out of my clothes? I thought we called that quits a long time ago.” He taunts, dodging a slap to the arm. “I’m okay. Walked away mostly unscathed.”
“Mostly.” You repeat, tilting his jaw and getting a better look at the cuts on his right cheek. Deeming that he doesn’t need any medical attention, you grab your glass and make your way to the couch. A brown leather duffle bag on the floor nearly makes you loose your balance. You look at Bucky with a raised brow.
“I know it was a long trip and all, but did you forget that you don’t live here anymore?”
Bucky scratches the back of his neck and smiles sheepishly. “I—uh, accidentally sublet my apartment for little longer than I needed.”
Your eyes close and you exhale through your nose, coming to terms that he’s hinting he needs a place to stay. “How much longer?”
“…Two months.” He mutters.
“Two months?!” You repeat, dumbfounded. “You only moved out a year ago, Buck. I don’t know if it’s smart to stay under the same roof for that long…”
“I know it’s a lot to ask. If it doesn’t work out, if you get to the point that you wanna ring my neck, I’ll make other arrangements. But I bet Alpine would really appreciate If you let us stay.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “That’s a low blow. Don’t bring our daughter into the middle of this.” You shake your head, scratching under Alpine’s chin, making her purr softly. “You’re sleeping on the couch. If you enter my room without knocking even one time, your ass is out.”
“Understood.” Bucky nods and brings two plates over to join you on the sofa. “And as a thank you, dinner is served.”
It’s a sleepless night.
For you, anyway.
Rain pounds harshly against the windows as flashes of lightening illuminate your bedroom. With each loud clap of thunder, you toss and turn until you’re wrapped up in the bedsheets. Sweat sticks to your skin as you grow warmer and the temperature in the apartment rises. The electricity went out an hour ago and you rely on the central air to combat the evening spring heat.
What’s worse is that you can hear the fact that Bucky is blissfully unaware of the torment you’re enduring. He snores with each intake of breath as his mind is completely shut off to the outside world of whatever he’s dreaming about.
Lucky bastard.
You kick off your sweatpants and throw your shirt to the floor in hopes the lack of layers will cool you down, but it’s no use. There’s not even a cool side of the pillow anymore since you’re producing heat like a furnace.
With another flash of lightning, a memory flashes in the back of your mind.
Asgard in the summertime.
You had gotten word that Loki appeared home after years of Thor believing that he was dead after trying to take on Thanos. He'd sustained major injuries — If he hadn’t died when Thor originally thought, he was on the brink of it now.
Of course Thor thought about making the desperate call to ask you for help, but he decided against it. You had your own life and your own things going on in your universe. Last time either of you spoke was on a mission a couple years prior. The two of you didn’t have a close enough rapport for him to think that he could ask a favor this big of you. Which is why it surprised him when you had spontaneously arrived to lend aid to his brother.
“He’s critical. It’ll take time, but he’ll live. I’ll stay as long as I can to get him back on his feet, but when duty calls…”
“I understand.” Thor nodded, looking at you with gratitude. “I don’t know how to thank you. A gesture as grand as this deserves more than I can give, I’m afraid.”
You shrugged and shook your head. “A nice place to stay with a spectacular view will suffice.” You crossed your arms and grinned up at him. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have an ulterior motive to come all this way and treat it like a vacation. I haven’t traveled in what feels like centuries. Your brother is brought back to health and I get to visit a place I’ve never been before. Win, win.”
Your honesty made him chuckle. He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt lighthearted enough to find amusement.
“You’ll stay here in the palace. You may choose whichever room you please. I’ll see to it that you’re well taken care of.”
Thor escorted you around after you finished your first round of treatment for Loki. He was like a tour guide, explaining the pros and cons of each one of the living quarters.
“This one has a perfect view of the sunrise, if you enjoy rising at 4am.”
He told you.
“Freyr stayed in this room once, but fair warning, every woman who has stayed here thereafter has welcomed an infant. He says it’s coincidence, I say that’s horse shite. I saw the way he left it in there after his departure.”
You scrunched your nose at the imagery and continued to follow him throughout the corridors.
“Woah,” You gaped with wide eyes and a slacked jaw as you entered the threshold of the seventeenth room out of—you can’t even imagine how many more there could be.
Golden rays of the setting sun beamed brilliantly on the marble floor through large openings in the concrete walls. Dark blue drapery hung f above the bed, wrapped around the sturdy wooden posts of the canopy.
“I think this is the most inviting bed I’ve seen in any of my days.” You brushed your hand along the satin sheets and perfectly fluffed pillows.
“Is this the one to your liking?” He asked, watching you step out onto the vast balcony.
You looked out upon the beachside view, the sound of sea washing the shore temporarily soothed your worries away.
“I believe we have a winner.” You declared, sprawling out on the bed and stretching your limbs.
“Then you are welcome here for as long as you desire. It so happens that only other room on this floor is my own, down the hall. So I will be the one to cater to your needs.”
“I’ll try not to need too much.” You sighed contently.
“That may be, but you may have anything you want.”
You tried to look past the fact that Thor’s voice made a shiver surge through your being. There was a tone that wasn’t there before. One that lingered even after he left you to relax for the rest of the evening.
He kept true to his word. Anything you asked for, he retrieved. Every request was met shortly after you voiced it, from extra pillows for the bed, to gourmet grilled cheese at two in the morning when the craving hit.
“Are you this attentive to all of your guests?” You asked, licking the buttery crumbs from the corner of your mouth after taking the last bite of the sandwich he prepared for you.
“No.” Thor said over his shoulder, drying his hands on a nearby dish towel after cleaning up the kitchen. “You’re the first visitor I’ve had the pleasure of hosting.”
He tried to keep the mood light by adding a forced smile, but you saw through him. He was lonely. You recognized the signs because you spent your time trying to mask your own loneliness.
You were restless at night.
Even silk sheets, ocean breeze, and the sound of waves crashing over the shore weren’t enough to lull you to sleep. Your mind was the most active in the earliest hours of the morning. As if on the dot each day, you woke up around three o’clock, thoughts racing at a mile a minute.
One early morning, the second week into your stay, you grew tired of tossing and turning. You allowed your mind to drift while your feet lead you through the corridors, down the stairs, and outside where you were welcomed by a floral scent.
You continued to follow it.
Bare feet on prickly grass. Your nightgown billowing in the warm summer air as you neared the source of the delightful smell. Your vision adjusted to see one of the most stunning gardens you’d ever laid eyes on. Rows of marigolds, petunias, and dahlias all varying in color. Shrubs beautifully sculpted in different shapes and sizes.
“Sleep walking?” Thor’s voice asked softly as he came to stand beside you.
“Half-asleep walking.” You corrected. “Too much going on in my head. No matter how much I try to relax and get some rest, my brain just keeps going and going and going…” You shrugged and continued on the path further into the garden. “Did I wake you?”
He followed beside.
“Yes, but I don’t mind. That window,” He pointed behind to a large gape in the palace wall. “Is to my bedroom. I heard someone outside, saw it was you, here we are.”
“Either you’re a light sleeper or I need to work on my stealth skills.”
He didn’t reply, but you felt him watching you as you leaned down to inhale the fresh florals.
“This is my favorite place in all of the kingdom.” He told you. “It’s calm. Peaceful.”
“Kings and warriors see very little of that, I’d imagine.”
Thor hummed in agreement.
As you moved to take a step forward, you’re stopped by a large hand around your wrist. Calloused, but gentle. You looked back at him, but he wouldn’t meet your gaze. He looked at the ground, searching for the words he wanted to say.
“I can feel when you think about me.” He confessed shyly. His brows furrowed and he shook his head. “I don’t know how or why. That’s how I knew where to find you. How you woke me.”
He kept his head bowed, unable to allow you to read his expression. He was unsure. Unnerved by why he was able to sense this from you.
You were intrigued.
You didn’t shy away from his touch. Instead you lessened the distance between your body and his.
“What does it feel like?”
“What?” His eyes finally met yours.
You took one step closer.
“When I think about you. What does it feel like?” You repeated, noticing the goosebumps that rose on Thor’s arms from your breathy tone.
It caught him off guard. He was certain that you would react negatively to the admission. He hadn’t even considered that you would be curious about it.
“Um—I,” He stammered, trying to put it into words. “It feels like my lungs are on fire. My head rushes, muscles ache, I can feel electricity run through my veins.”
“How did you come to the conclusion that me thinking of you is the reason you feel these things?”
“Do you deny it?”
It was your turn to be caught off guard.
“What?”
“Do you deny that you’ve thought about me?”
The flush of your skin gave you away. You remained silent, but shook your head, seeing no point in lying when he’d been honest with you.
“Some things you just know.” He told you.
A booming clap of thunder wakes you from the momentary dream world you entered.
“Goddammit!” You grunt in frustration as you roll over. A flash of lightening cracks across the sky, illuminating your bedroom just enough to make out a statuesque figure standing in front of the windows.
You’re not alarmed.
You don’t scramble for the knife you keep at your bedside. You don’t yell for Bucky, though you’re sure he could probably continue sleeping through the building being bulldozed.
You run a hand through your damp hair and sit up on the bed. The figure remains still. He won’t move closer until you express permission.
“Well don’t just stand in the shadows like a creep, come over here.”
For a man of his size, his footsteps are feather light. He’s hesitant, but he takes a seat at the far end of the bed. Keeping distance.
Your eyes adjust to the best of their ability, but it’s hard to see his face. He wears civilian clothes. Jeans and a t-shirt. It’s always strange to see him look normal.
“Is something wrong?”
He shakes his head.
For a second you contemplate moving closer, but decide against it.
“What are you doing here?”
He keeps his hands at his sides and his head bowed to not meet your stare.
“You were thinking about me.” He says.
“In these conditions,” You gesture to the storm continuing to rage outside. “I highly doubt I’m the only one thinking about you.”
The lighthearted teasing makes him crack a smile. He finally chances a look at you.
“True. But you’re the only one that I can feel think about me.”
It’s not often that someone makes you blush. In this moment you’re thankful for the blackout to keep it hidden.
“Still a mystery as to why that is?” You raise a brow.
“Yep.”
“Haven’t had it happen with anyone else?”
“Nope.”
He never was able to explain why this phenomenon only happened with you. No Asgardian lore. No one else that he knows of that has experienced something similar to this bond you share.
“What were you thinking about?” He couldn’t help himself but to ask.
You roll your eyes and smirk.
“I have a feeling that you already know.”
His body relaxes when he picks up on the playfulness of your tone. He lays his back on the mattress and looks up at the ceiling.
“I did come all this way to visit…” He lulls his head to the side to look up at you.
“Let me get this straight,” You move to lay on your stomach, kicking your feet back and forth casually. “You came here because you wanted to hear that I was reminiscing about our time in the garden?”
“A fond memory.” Thor sighs, a goofy grin plastered on his face.
“You showed up just as I was getting to the good part.”
There’s a glimmer in his half-lidded eyes as he looks at you. You don’t have to read his mind to know what he’s thinking. You have to push the thought from your mind as it is.
“We’re not the only ones here, you know.” You try to deter him.
As if on cue, Bucky emits a sound that resembles a chainsaw kickstarting from the living room.
“I doubt Barnes will even know that I’m here.” Thor remarks. “Even so,” He pauses as a low rumble of thunder rolls through. “I can conceal any noise you make with ease.”
Damn him and the effect his words have on you.
Damn the way your body craves whatever he’s willing to give.
He senses your hesitation and his features soften.
“I don’t mean to overstep. I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable—“
“You didn’t,” You shake your head. “It’s just—God, it sounds stupid to say it out loud.”
Thor mirrors your position when you move to sit upright.
“I wouldn’t think anything you say is stupid.” He assures you.
You inhale deeply through your nose and close your eyes, too self-conscious to face him.
“I’m not having…relations…with friends anymore. I’ve lost too many people I care about. I don’t need to complicate my life anymore than it already is by giving into a moment of impulsive weakness.”
There’s a feeling of warmth on your knee that makes you open your eyes. Thor’s large hand rests there and he offers a small, comforting smile.
“I understand. Your reasoning is certainly not senseless. I can’t truthfully deny that intimacy hasn’t cost me friendships, as well.” He admits. “Simply being in your presence is a gift.”
His words provide comfort to your sheepish mind. When you finally meet his eyes, you have to stop yourself from melting. His cerulean orbs resemble windows overlooking a calm sea. You act without thinking, leaning over and placing a kiss on his cheek, just above his neatly groomed beard.
It’s innocent enough.
A sweet gesture to express your gratitude. An expression of pure, platonic affection.
Until you find yourself lingering in close proximity. Inhaling his scent — bergamot and rain with a hint of jasmine. Like he had come from the palace garden from your memory.
It’s borderline intoxicating.
Neither of you make an effort to separate further. He notices you staring at his lips as your tongue flicks over your own.
Fucking hell, you scold yourself internally. Have you no self control? Is your willpower truly nonexistent?
“It’s not the easiest endeavor.” You feign a chuckle and force yourself to add a few inches of distance. “Sorry. I don’t mean to give mixed signals.”
Thor clears his throat and shakes himself from the trance he’d also found himself in. “As your friend, you have my support.” He starts before trailing off as a soft blush burns his flesh. “I think I can attest for just about everyone you cross paths with; it’s no easy feat to resist you.”
His vulnerability stuns you.
And your body begins to betray you as you feel an ache contract in your core. The all too familiar sensation of blood rushing to your brain, clouding your judgement, blurring the lines you’re trying to stay between.
“Tell me to go.” It’s a plea, not a command. You blink up at him as he rises to his feet. “I’ll always respect your wish. I just need to hear you say it. Otherwise, I fear I’m not strong enough to leave on my own.”
You’re dripping.
Absolutely weeping with want.
“Don’t go.” You breathe out. He still towers over you when you kneel on the mattress. “I mean, we’ve done this once before and still remained friends after all this time, right?”
Of course, the question is rhetorical. Instead of answering, Thor closes the space between your bodies, letting his hands roam over your arms, your back, your hips, any and every bit of you he can touch with your pesky pajamas in the way.
“You’re sure?” He asks, resting his forehead against yours, carding his fingers through the hair at the nape of your neck.
You wish you had his self-restraint.
“Yes.” You nod, pulling him on top of you, desperate to feel his weight and warmth. “You did come all this way to visit…” You imitate him from earlier. “Least I can do is make you cum before going back.”
A flash of white lightening makes you gasp as he grips your waist and moves onto his back, rolling like thunder under the covers. Fast hands make away with the frustrating fabric of clothing until you’re both bare to one another. Thor pulls you close, muffling your sounds with his mouth as he swiftly sheaths his cock.
You can’t believe you were trying to deny yourself of this pleasure.
Tried to convince yourself to suppress your salacious and satyric side.
Your hands keep you steady on top of him, splaying over his pectorals, feeling his heart thump beneath your right palm. The pace starts slow. Teasing. A preview of your abilities. As if the man — the God beneath you isn’t already a complete mess.
“You feel like heaven, you know that?” Thor sighs, the air hitching in his windpipe when you quicken the tempo of your thrusts. “A true Goddess.”
He’s said this once before. Years ago. The last time he was buried inside of you. When sweat and dirt coated his tanned skin and the hard ground made your knees ache. When neither of you could stand the thought of the short trek back inside of the palace, so you stayed in the garden. Surrounded by the scent of the flowers, wreathed in bliss as the sun began to rise in the east.
You rode on top of him then just as you are now. His hands guide you in the same way, pulling your hips down and easing you back as he meets your thrusts.
Thor covers your mouth with one hand while the other cradles the back of your head gently when you begin to come undone. A long rumble of thunder conceals his own sounds as he releases right after you.
Thor spends the night and departs at daybreak.
A chaste kiss to your lips and one that lingers on your temple. “Until next time, sweet Angel.”
After he’s gone, you’re left to wage the war going on inside your mind. You strip the bed to wash the sheets, walk out of your bedroom to find Bucky still passed out, nearly falling off the couch from his choice of position, and Alpine stretching as she wakes up from her own cat nap.
You scratch her head as you pass and she immediately begins to purr.
After loading the washing machine, you decide you need some fresh air. The skies are completely clear this morning. Not a single cloud looming. A complete contrast to the weather the day before.
‘Coffee? My treat?’ You send to Yelena.
She responds with a heart to the message. ‘Meet you there in 30.’
You wash your face and brush your teeth, pull on some comfortably warm clothes to guard against the chill in the air, and leave a note for Bucky on the coffee table, promising to return with breakfast.
“To what do I owe this treat?” Yelena chimes from behind, taking the seat across from you at the small patio table outside of the bakery. She takes a sip of the beverage you ordered for her and takes a good look at you. “You okay?” She chuckles, taking in your appearance. “Did you even sleep last night?”
You knew you should have grabbed your sunglasses to hide the circles under your tired eyes.
“I had an unexpected visitor show up at my apartment. Actually, two unexpected visitors.” Yelena raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate. “Bucky’s gonna be crashing at my place for the next two months.”
“Woah.” Her eyes widen. “That’s… Didn’t he just move out?”
“It’s a whole thing.” You sigh. “Thor stopped by, too.”
A smirk stretches across Yelena’s face and she nods knowingly. “And are we sore from our visit with Thor?” It takes her a moment before it clicks. “Wait, you—with Bucky in the next room?”
“He might as well have been dead to the world, he was sleeping so hard. He didn’t hear anything. Doesn’t even know he was there.” You defend yourself. “I tried, okay? I tried really damn hard not to give into temptation, but…”
“You’re putting way too much pressure on yourself about this whole thing.” Yelena shakes her head. “I get it, your intentions are good, I know you don’t want to jeopardize friendships, but it’s not worth stressing out this much. We all have our vices. You shouldn’t have to deprive yourself of something that gives you a boost of serotonin. If a relationship ends, it’s because it’s run its course. Not everything is meant to last forever.”
“Wow,” you tilt your head. “That’s pretty profound.”
Yelena scoffs in faux offense. “I can be deep.”
You crack a smile and nudge her foot with yours. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”
Yelena’s phone goes off, signaling an email. She rolls her eyes and slumps her shoulders. “Duty calls. I’ll check in with you later. Thanks for the coffee.”
“Good luck on the job.” You wave.
“Good luck with Bucky!” She calls back over her shoulder.
“Thanks,” You grab your drink and the paper bag of pastries you’d ordered before Yelena arrived. “I’ll need it.”
feel free to leave a comment or a reblog to let me know how you're enjoying the story so far! lots more drama and romantic relations to come ✨
✧･ﾟ:His hand is clamped over your mouth, your eyes locked as he drives in and out of your cunt.
✧･ﾟ:You’d been crying. Loud and open, unable to stifle the sounds with the overwhelming pleasure Bucky was giving you. You’re trying not to disturb your teammates, just a thin wall away. Bucky had said you’d just have to keep quiet.
✧･ﾟ:And yet, he’d made it his personal mission to try and make you as loud as possible. Teasing, dirty words against your skin as his fingers played with your pussy. Soft touches and kisses to work you up and almost sob with desperation.
✧･ﾟ:It’s been an hour or so since you’d been able to do anything but make incoherent sounds. You’d lost the ability to speak sometime around when he’d sat you on his face and worked his mouth against your pussy. Now, with him drilling you into the mattress, you’re putty in his hands. Lips trying to say his name and only making a puckered little O.
✧･ﾟ:Bucky knows exactly how to work you. How to rut against your g-spot and tease you’re body until you’re a trembling wreck below him. He kisses under your jaw, biting softly, and a broken sound breaks through your lips
✧･ﾟ:“Shhhh, babydoll.” He mutters against your ear, warmer hand squeezing your hip.
✧･ﾟ:You moan shamelessly into his mouth as he hits that sweet spot inside of you, over and over again. There’s a mess between your thighs that’s sticky and dripping, Bucky’s cock smearing it as he pulls almost fully out, then slams back in. It’s an obscene, wet sound. It almost covers your shriek of his name when he angles your hips up, forcing you to take it at a deeper angle.
✧･ﾟ:“Good job,” he coos, low and hungry in your ear. “Just like that, you can take it.”
✧･ﾟ:You whimper, eyes rolling back in your head as he plows into you. You can see your arousal, clinging to his length when he pulls out, lewd and overflowing when he plunges back in.
✧･ﾟ:“There she is.” Bucky moves his hand, kissing your swollen, shaking lips. “That’s a girl. Nice and quiet for me.”
✧･ﾟ:You’re not quiet because you’re trying. It’s mostly because you’ve been so spent your voice is gone. Breathing is all you can stand, everything else too lost in the feeling.
✧･ﾟ:But it’s good. So good that it’s more than worth it.
✧･ﾟ:And when he’s done with you, you’re going to beg him to do it again.
✦Bucky Masterlist - Main Masterlist✦
✦Author's Note: on a semi-public sex streak... should probably examine that but i dont want to.✦
✦Buy me a coffee!☕️✦
some of y’all will be engaging in witch hunt, accusing writers left and right and then wondering why more and more writers take their works down and don’t share them with you ungrateful losers anymore.
“this fic looks like it was created by ai” yeah that’s because ai was trained on human-made works and it was trained to mimic human-made works.
you claim you hate ai because ai harms real artists, yet you are out there accusing and harassing artists because “their vibes just aren’t right”. at this point, you are the ones who cause more harm — to art and the writing community — than ai does.
you are the ones killing art and writing community, the community you want to “protect against ai”.
so at this point, you’re killing the community faster than ai is. good luck when the community you want to protect has no human-made work left because you accused and harassed genuine artists/writers away and the only things that are left for you to read are actual ai-generated fics.
if you think a fic is ai and if that bothers you like it does me, quietly exit the tab and avoid their future works like a normal, decent person. because with every "this fic looks ai" comment, there's always a chance of you wrongly accusing an innocent writer and further harming the writing community as a whole.
