ostavil | don't touch that dial

Entry tags:

wanda

don't touch that dial

They're the two most terrifying people on the planet and wanted by several governments but they're playing house in the middle of nowhere and not a single person can tell. Bucky's used to being invisible and silent and he'd managed to hide out in Romania for longer than he should have been able to by living on cash only, working under the table, keeping to the shadows. This is different. This is a real life that he can have, out in the open, and nobody even thinks he's suspicious at all.

It's a very, very good thing that HYDRA no longer has control of Wanda Maximoff.

When they're out in public, he keeps his face away from cameras and his arm hidden; a hat and Wanda's tricks do the rest. He can take his time picking out food, plan meals, pretend to have the friendly banter that a husband and wife would have. It's nothing he's never had before and this kind of stability almost feels like he's stealing the life he was supposed to have after the war. There's some other version of him who died falling from that train and maybe it's that version that's getting a new lease on life now.

It's autumn and the leaves have started to turn, yellow like the sun and scarlet like Wanda's hair and there's a brisk wind that says there's gonna be a storm in a day or two. Rain or snow, he isn't sure, but it's Canada so it can go either way. He has his left arm slid into Wanda's to cover up that it doesn't hang naturally the same as his right does and nobody suspects a thing. Their neighbors aren't ever curious, there's no surveillance, there's nothing to worry about. It's a strange feeling but a good one.

"You know, if you can figure out how to explain it to my tiny soldier brain I would love to know how you managed to keep our house invisible from everyone else. Small words, though. I'm all brawn and no brains."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

Wanda hums low in her throat and fidgets slightly beneath him. While she wants to look at him, she tilts her head up and closes her eyes as she drags her fingers through his hair. She likes that he's trusting his metal hand; even if his touch is a little different than his right hand, she can make do with the soft harshness because she knows what it means for him to use it.

She exhales loudly through her nose and moans softly. Even though she's not picking at his thoughts, his concentration is like being hit with a wave at the beach. She can feel it lapping at her feet even if he doesn't intend for it to try and knock her over.

"You can stop thinking so much," she murmurs a little breathlessly. "I'm fine; you're fine. I like this." And to emphasise what she likes in particular, she roughly slides the hand not in his hair over her side to touch his left hand.

“Am I really that loud?”

Bucky has to laugh at it because he’s never thought about how loud he thinks or how hard he concentrates, not before now, and now he feels like he has to be aware of it so he isn’t bothering Wanda with it. She seems to take it in stride, though, and when she touches his left hand he squeezes her breast with it lightly. He wishes he could feel more but feeling it at all is amazing enough and it’s some magic he will never ever be able to thank her for.

Maybe all the thanks she needs will be in the kisses and touches he gives her. He dips his head again and barely edges his teeth against her nipple before sucking at it again. It feels good to take the time and maybe Wanda not being concerned with the end result is a good thing. Maybe he shouldn’t be racing to the finish and should just be enjoying the journey.

She inhales loudly and lets out a noise that sounds like it's on the verge of being a whimper. Sliding her hand to his nape, she deliberately curls her fingers and drags her nails against his skin.

"You… always have been," she says hesitantly, only reluctant to voice it because of what it implies. Even before they'd been saddled with one another after the events in Germany, Wanda had always found him to be loud in the moments when they shared space. Always worrying, always thinking, always seemingly plotting a way to push Steve away.

She's sensed it here, worrying about her. Where she had originally focused on him to ensure the safety of her friend, it's morphed into personal interest. And he worries about her now, with her at fault for bringing something that he needn't worry about to the forefront of his mind.

"Don't worry about it," she whispers and arches her back off the bed to try and distract him. "Please."

You...always have been. It sits heavy on him to think that in the entire time Wanda has known him, he's always been this way. He wonders if Wanda would have liked him before war and HYDRA destroyed who he was and then he decides that doesn't matter because he would have died in a train accident in 1945 and not had the chance.

She tells him not to worry about it and he tries not to, focusing instead on kissing her and getting rewarded for it when she arches her back up off the bed. He shifts a little and kisses lower along the line of her belly and over to her hip.

"Are we still good?"

"Hm?"

Of course, she's still listening. She can hear everyone in their street and the streets several blocks over, but Wanda's distracted by how it feels to be touched like this again. With tenderness, like she's something to be gentle with. Where tension had once sat in the lines of her muscles, she feels pliant and like her bones are water now.

It takes her a moment to understand what he's asking. Peering down the length of her body, she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and nods again. "You feel nice." Wanda ignores her flush when she asks quietly, "Are you enjoying this?"

"Am I? More than I've enjoyed anything in eighty years," Bucky says, looking up at her before deliberately licking along the line of her hip and then along the inside of one thigh. She feels a little less tense beneath him now than she had before and maybe his idea of just focusing on her very intensely is starting to work and she'll enjoy herself more than she usually does.

He kisses where her thigh and hip meets and murmurs softly against her skin. "I want to get my mouth on you, Wanda. I wanna taste you. Can I do that?"

Just the thought of it makes him want to die a little and it's as good for him to give to her as it is to receive. Maybe more, really, because he loves making Wanda feel good and he thinks she deserves it more than anyone. She deserves a chance to only think about herself for once.

His question makes her heart flutter anxiously, but while Wanda might dig her heels into the sheets slowly and softly to not draw his attention, she doesn't roll over or curl into herself. He's already seen so much of her—more than he has since they settled down here—that the idea of him touching her so intimately makes her skin feel aflame with nervousness and excitement.

Peering down at him, she parts her legs slightly—not enough to try and dislodge him from where he's perched at her hip, but enough so that he can see that her answer isn't her attempt to please him, but represents what she wants, too. And she knows she wants it despite her nervousness. "Yes," she says quietly.

"I'll be careful," he whispers. Bucky isn't a telepath but he can tell that Wanda feels nervous about this because her muscles are a little tightened and her voice is small. Still, she's parted her legs for him and he just moves them a little bit wider so he can get comfortable before curling his left hand around her thigh to hold it there before he draws up closer with his mouth.

He's always liked doing this for women and even if he's old, it's a myth that men only discovered how to please a woman in the modern era. No, he learned how to do to it because he was paying fucking attention and he wanted both of them to have a good time. It didn't take much to do. It's part of why he wants it for Wanda so much because for someone who has lost as much as she is, she deserves to have someone give all of themself to her.

He doesn't want to startle her, though, so he keeps his lips and tongue soft when he kisses her and just lets her get used to him being there before adding anything else to it.

Wanda inhales shakily and tilts her head back, closing her eyes as she grips the bedsheets. Imagining and dreaming is always different to the reality of experiencing it, and Bucky's mouth is warm and wet and gentle.

This isn't her first time receiving head, but it's her first time with an experienced partner who doesn't need her to guide him through the darkness that she's also navigating herself. She's not quite sure if she should be. She shifts her right foot so she can lift her thigh up a little more into his metal hand. It's such a strange and arousing sensation to feel the cold metal on her thigh while his mouth is warm and soft.

Rather than grip the bedsheets, she curls one hand into his hair and quietly whimpers. "You can do more," she murmurs, accent thick. Although, she suspects Bucky knows what he's doing. She ignores how her skin heats. "I want you to. It's okay. I'm okay."

Good.

She wants him to and he wants to give her more so Bucky keeps his tongue soft and lazy, just trying to find the places that make her want more and the places that aren't so desperate. He wants to hit the sweet spot of working her up without her thinking that she has to perform for him or anything so he makes it seem like he's just happy to explore and see what happens because, well, he is.

It's never really been like this before, to do this without having the end goal in mind, and he sucks her clit with a little more pressure before backing away and slipping his right hand up between them to touch his fingers against her.

Yes or no?

Okay, telepathy was useful.

She wriggles beneath him, not hard enough to dislodge him from between her legs. It feels good enough to not lie still beneath him. Intimate in a way that has her feeling more exposed than she is. She's grateful he's not looming over her to watch her reactions; she much prefers for him to listen to her via touch. It feels less confronting. Breathing hard and shallowly, she peers up at the ceiling and swallows hard.

Digging her heels into the bed, she shifts her hips slightly, unintentionally angling them up. She startles at his question, having expected him to speak rather than think. Gripping the bedsheets, Wanda inhales deeply in an attempt to regain some semblance of control. She doesn't want to slip; she wants to be present, but not tightly coiled, even though she knows he can feel just how aroused she is by his gentle exploration.

It takes her a moment to parse what he's asking. Wanda keeps her gaze on the ceiling and hums. Yes.

I love how you taste.

It had been strange at first, the idea of Wanda being in his head, and now that he thinks he's figured out how not to be so loud (or god, at least he hopes he's not too loud now) he thinks it's intimate and a good way to say things he'd never be able to say if he had to use his voice to do it. It turns him on to do it, anyway, so he hopes that Wanda likes it too.

He slides his fingers into her and lets them just sit for a moment for her to get used to it while he spends a little more time warming her up. He has the idea that if he can make it last a long time that maybe the orgasm will sneak up on her instead of it seeming like she has to give it up so he'll just stop what he's doing. He's got all the time in the world for this, especially when the result of it is so good. He just wants her to feel good and not feel self-conscious about it.

Just relax with me, all right?

She shivers—at his words, at his fingers, and at his voice being inside of her mind. It's overwhelmingly intimate. Telepathy is a part of her that she's kept to herself—had to, for the sake of others, especially since she's only ever used it to manipulate people onto puppet strings—and it's a strange and overwhelming thought to have him accept it so readily. And she fears doing it now, accidentally making Bucky do something he hadn't wanted to do.

It's a little hard to relax when Bucky's in her head and has his fingers nestled in her cunt. She breathes in sharply, making a gasping noise that sounds like its part moan, and digs a heel into the bed in response to his fingers.

Just two. Move slow.

She tightens the muscles in her belly, sucking it in before forcing a long exhale. The desire to control him is there—it's always there, waiting for her on the precipice of new and nerve-wracking moments—and Wanda palms the bedsheets with both hands to stop herself from dipping into it.

Trust me.

All of this is about trust at the end of the day. For her side, it's the physical part she's trusting him with but for his, he's trusting her with his mind and it's terrifyingly intimate because of it. They both have skin in the game and they're both doing something a little frightening but it's good because they're doing it together.

Bucky doesn't move his fingers so much as curl them a little to try and see if he can find the places that feel good for her. If she wants it harder and faster there's time for it once she's loosened up but right now she's too tense for him to do anything but just get her used to how it feels to have his fingers there while he's working her over with his mouth. He squeezes her hip with his left hand in reassurance as he does, trying to let her know with everything he has that it's all right if this doesn't end in a picture-perfect way.

At the squeeze of her hip, she places her hand over his, gripping the back of his hand tightly. He feels so close yet so far away, and she wants to keep reminding herself that he's here. But she relaxes as she arches her back and exhales, moaning a little louder than she had previously.

She knows she's still tense, and every time she tries to force herself to relax, her body doesn't listen. And no matter how hard she tries to control herself, she doesn't heed her own wishes.

She focuses on his fingers, focusing on the way they feel, on the heavy sensation of him being inside of her, of how he's so gentle yet present, and whimpers at the sensation of him curling them.

A little more.

Wanda's not quite sure if that even makes sense. She knows what she wants, but she doesn't know what she wants at all. She exhales roughly, a little aggravated with herself.

Of that.

Bucky moves his fingers then. He keeps it fairly slow even if the rhythm is steady because if it's too fast, he thinks she won't enjoy it. He doesn't push in hard, either, because if she's not used to penetration, she needs to get warmed up and stretched before he starts doing anything rougher; if they're going to have intercourse, he wants to make sure he doesn't hurt her.

He focuses on her clit a little more now, though, focusing in on the spots he has determined feel the best and he alternates sucking and licking to see which one Wanda is more into. Her reactions will tell him a lot and they have the benefit of telepathy if he's really getting it wrong.

God, he loves doing this. She tastes good and she doesn't have to do anything but lay there and enjoy feeling good and he's the cause of that. It's a damn good feeling to know he can do that for her.

Although she desperately wants to stay still in fear of accidentally hurting him, Wanda fidgets where she lies. Every time he sucks, she shifts her hips delicately but digs her feet roughly into the bed, arching them and curling her toes as she lifts slightly off her back.

She can hear a mix of sounds from the neighbourhood, but nothing is as loud as her panting. Her mouth dries, but she hardly cares as she tilts her head back and closes her eyes. All the thoughts around her are there, present, little spokes trying to prod at her, but Wanda reaches telepathically out for him before she stops herself. Beneath her closed eyes, her irises begin to glow red. The tips of her fingers start to smoke a pale pink.

It's more when he sucks on her clit that she wriggles and red thin vines curl along her long fingers. Digging her heels into the bed, she lifts one of her feet up and plants it on his back. The moment she realises where she's digging her heel into, she quickly puts it back on the soft bed. "Sorry," she murmurs.

<>You can put it back, doll. No problem being touched.

If she's feeling good enough to lift off the bed and press her heel into his back, he's doing what he should be doing to make her feel good. He crooks his fingers a little before sucking again, hard, and tries to see if he can get her there. It hadn't been the true goal, no, but if she gets there it's amazing.

If nothing else, she'll know he can get her close and that's all he wants her to know. If there's the promise of pleasure that they can work toward, maybe she won't feel so frustrated or worried about things and maybe she will let him try more.

Wanda gently places her foot on his back again, but that gentleness is short-lived as he sucks hard on her clit. She pushes into him as she moans and twists her upper body slightly on the bed.

She arches her back and doesn't try to be quiet. She ignores the dampness of her skin and the heat of the bed beneath her as she focuses on his mouth and fingers and her foot on his back. She pushes into him as though he's all she has to stay afloat. Gripping the bedsheets, her hands glow red as her magic slowly weaves itself through the threads.

Where she would let his voice go in her head, Wanda latches onto it tightly without thought. The tension she'd been holding remains, but something in the way she holds herself tautly snaps. She zeroes in on the skin and muscle beneath her heel, the mind in her hands. Where her voice would feel like a little ticklish whisper, it's akin to being tangled in thick vines.

When she thinks next, it's in a hushed whisper of Sokovian that resonates around the room like an incantation.

More please.

It's almost as if there is no thought in his head other than pleasing Wanda and giving her exactly what she wants and that's as clear as if it were blasted inside his brain. It's almost like he has a diagram of where she wants his hands, what pressure, where to put his tongue. It's easy. It feels good to just follow it.

Everything you want.

It comes to him so naturally to stroke inside her faster and to suck a little bit to the side of her clit instead of directly on it, little strings that are pulling him in all the right directions. It feels better than anything he's ever done to do it.

This is what she's been denying herself for so long. Giving into that addictive allure to get what she wants by giving what she wants. It's easier to make people see it than to explain it. It's what Strucker had always prided her about. It's what Ultron had always been mesmerised of. Where they had to train and program and teach, all she had to do was overtake.

She doesn't think much of it within the first few seconds of Bucky's response—it's in line with what he's been saying all night. Everything feels right and warm. But it's the pliancy in him following her subconscious that makes her furrow her brows. It's the weight that overtakes her when she enters someone's mind to make them do exactly what she wants. It's in the lack of tripping as he explores. She likes the tripping; it reminds her that not being perfect is okay.

Her mental grip on him extends beyond their house and it's once Wanda feels the puppet strings grow taut and the puppets themselves comply that she jerks against him.

She digs her heel into his back harshly, but not to try and find purchase. Everything he's doing to her becomes distant. All she can focus on is the tangle of puppet strings around her fingers. She tightly curls her hands into the bedspread. When she pants, it's not from arousal. Panic clutches her heart and tenses every muscle in her body.

"Stop," she says meekly. "Stop. Stop," she says, her voice growing louder. She pushes up onto her elbows, her eyes still glowing red, but the tendrils of scarlet that seep from her hands and the heel of her foot disappear back into her skin. The firm and comfortable grip she has on his mind abandons him instantly to continue its free fall as if she never caught it at all.

More firmly, she snaps, "Bucky, stop."

Bucky feels like he's been kicked both mentally and physically when Wanda starts telling him to stop and when he pulls away, he looks at her with concern on his face and he knows his right hand is trembling. What did he do? What did he do? For someone who hasn't had his body autonomy for a long time, he's afraid he's taken something from her.

"Wanda, I'm sorry, I thought I was doing what you wanted...I don't know what I did wrong but I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Did I fuck it up?"

Shit. How is she going to trust him when he's clearly crossed some kind of boundary with her that she didn't want him to cross? He had only wanted to be intimate because he loves her and wants her to feel good but now he's afraid he's fucked it all up.

With a pinched expression, Wanda shakes her head. "No, no… I fucked it up. I did." She grits her teeth and tenses her jaw, glancing away for a moment in shame. If he was her, she wouldn't forgive her for what she did. After everything he's gone through with being controlled, the last thing she ever wanted to do was control him.

Her eyes water and despite the racing of her heart, she inhales deeply to try and centre herself. Her nerves are frayed from his ministrations and from her having extended her mind across the street and her bed. But she forces herself to stay present.

She sits up properly but doesn't tuck a leg beneath her for fear that he'll misread that, too. Instead, her grip on the bedsheets tightens until her knuckles grow red with anger at herself. "You did nothing wrong," she says imploringly, staring down at him. "I took it too far. I'm sorry." As her voice wavers and grows wet, her accent thickens, "I'm really, really sorry."

"You were in my head."

It makes sense now, the strange sense of calm and peace that had come over him, the way he knew exactly where to touch her and how. She had been pulling the strings on him the same way HYDRA could only it was different because he suspects - strongly - that Wanda hadn't meant to do that at all.

"I couldn't tell, I just thought I was getting it right. I just wanted to make you happy."

Bucky moves to sit up and sit beside her, not wanting to be down here while he's trying to have this conversation. He tries to ball up his fear of being controlled and focus on the fact that he's scared the shit out of Wanda instead.

"You didn't mean to do it. I was distracting you," Bucky says gently. "Right? Isn't that it?"

With him now beside her, Wanda tucks a leg beneath her and pulls the other to her chest. She wraps her hands around it and glances at him before looking down.

She nods but doesn't answer immediately. She doesn't know how to even begin explaining it. She spends most of her time gently smoothing out the sharp edges of bad memories and dreams of those around her that sometimes being in that much control can be addictive. Feeling someone's contentment is adrenaline spiking. Having Bucky in her head so intimately had produced the same feeling. Bowing her head towards her knee, she presses her nose against her kneecap and nods again.

"I really liked you in my head," she says quietly. Looking at his legs, she furrows her brows thoughtfully. "It's… intimate for me. And you were there and… everywhere and I just didn't let go this time." She presses her forehead against her knee before turning her head to look up at him. "I think I was too distracted. But I shouldn't have been. I never should've done it." Wanda shakes her head and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. "I never will again."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject