#chris evans/reader

[brooklynbear32]

Chapter 8: Control

Pairing: Chris Evans/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Read on AO3 or see the tumblr masterlist

You and Chris were catching your breath after what was easily the most athletic sex you’ve ever had. Of course, he was the one who put in most of the work, but sex is a team sport. You’d come over for dinner after work and then he fucked you in the kitchenette of his hotel room. It was the sort of straight-forward, ecstatic sex you’d only ever dreamed of before. 

Neither of you have spoken for a while, just enjoying each other’s company as you come down. Your head is pillowed on his chest and you’re tracing the lines of his eagle tattoo, but mostly you're just replaying everything that just happened in your mind.

“Do I ever get a little rough with you in your fantasies, Sweetheart?” He asks, his eyes dark. 

“Yeah,” you manage to gasp out and he smiles.

“Good.” He says, and his hand moves to your neck, not choking you at all, just holding it gently. “I do when I fantasize about you.”

"Wait!" You say, the word out of your mouth before you even decide to say it.

He startles beside you, and when you turn to look at him, you see his eyelids flutter like he's forcing himself out of sleep.

"Sorry," you say, more softly, a hand coming up to his cheek. It had been a long day, and if you’d realized he was drifting off, you would have kept your mouth shut. "Everything's fine."

He smiles, dozily at you. "What's up, Sunshine?"

"I just – have you really fantasized about me?" You ask, a little shy.

His eyes search your face, as if unsure what response you're hoping for. 

"Yeah, Sweetheart, I really have." He replies, and he runs a hand over your head, tidying the hairs still out of place from the, uh, exercise you just shared. "These sheets smelled like you from the other night, and I couldn't help remembering everything we did together. And then I started thinking about other things that we could do together."

A thrill goes through you, settling low in your stomach, so flattered to be desired. 

"Do you, uh–" The words get stuck in your throat. You clear it, his expression teasing as he waits, and try again. "Do you want to talk about those ideas?"

He leans in to kiss you, but it's chaste compared to what you've come to expect from him.

"I would love to, baby, but I need a bit of a rest first." He looks disappointed in himself, like his incredible body is letting him down. 

"Hey, that's okay." You kiss him gently, enjoying seeing him so soft and sweet. "You've definitely earned it!"

He smiles at you. "I want you to stay, if you want that, too." He's rubbing a hand along your back, like he's trying to settle you to sleep beside him.

"I, uh, may or may not have thrown a couple things into my purse when I was getting ready, just in case you said something like that." You admit cautiously, and your heart nearly bursts when he beams at you. 

"Good. I coulda been ready to go again after a quick nap, but I'd much rather get some real sleep and do things right tomorrow." He says, closing his eyes and snuggling up against you.

"You sound like you've got a plan," you tease him.

"Guess you'll just have to stay and find out," he replies. He kisses you quickly again, his eyes still closed but finding your lips easily. You don't even feel embarrassed that you watch him for a few moments, enjoying seeing his handsome face relax into sleep. 

You force yourself to get up, go to the bathroom, and brush your teeth. Somehow, you're still wearing your dress and bra, your panties left on the kitchen floor. You're conflicted - you brought a cute pair of sleep shorts and a cami, but the idea of pairing his t-shirt with your lacy panties is also appealing. Last time, you both fell asleep totally naked, wrapped around each other, and that was a fantastic way to wake up.

You feel a little ridiculous, wondering if other girls also stand in the bathroom after amazing sex and debate what to wear (or not wear) to bed. You tell yourself that there isn't actually a wrong choice, after all, we're talking about getting in bed beside a naked Chris fucking Evans.

You decide on his shirt and your panties, remembering how much he liked "unwrapping" you earlier. His shirt, which looks too small for his bulky chest, is still big on you, and actually not that flattering, but it smells like him and there's something so sexy about the intimacy of wearing his clothes, so you leave it on.

You tiptoe around the suite, putting the leftover pizza in the fridge, making sure the door is locked, and turning out lights. It feels shockingly domestic and it warms something in your chest. You've had hookups before, some more embarrassing than others, but you've never come back for seconds. You don't have the perspective to know for sure, but you doubt most second hookups feel this cozy and familiar. 

You return to the bedroom, and you stop and stare at the man spread out on the king-size bed in front of you. He's rolled from his side to his stomach, the arm that had been around you now extended as if reaching for you. You lie down on the bed, situating yourself on your side so that you can look at him a moment longer. You slide your hand under his, and his fingers tighten around yours. It's almost definitely just a reflex, but your heart is full when you close your eyes.

_____

You wake up to sunlight streaming in through a gap in the curtains, and realize almost immediately that you're alone in the enormous bed. The door to the ensuite bathroom is closed and you can hear the faint sound of the sink being used. You close your eyes again, surrounded by bedding that is so soft and smells like Chris. You must doze off again, because the next time you open your eyes, Chris is lying beside you, looking at you.

"Creepy," you tease him with a smile, like you hadn't done the exact same thing last night.

He gives a little shrug, unapologetic and smiles back at you. "Good morning. How'd you sleep? How d'you feel?"

His voice is still sleep-rough and it warms every part of your body. You stretch, legs straightening out, toes pointing, arms extending as much as the bed's headboard allows.

"No complaints," you answer happily.

"Are you hungry?" He asks.

"For what?" You flirt with him.

His eyes crinkle. "For food."

You shake your head against the pillow. "Not yet. My stomach hasn't woken up."

"Are you hungry for anything else?" He flirts back at you, and he moves closer to you now and drapes himself over you. He’s still naked, and entirely unselfconscious about it, like this is just the way his body is meant to be. You don't disagree.

“I think I could be persuaded.” You say as his body cages you in. His arms settle on either side of your head, his knees on either side of your hips.

“Am I supposed to try to convince you now?” He asks, playfully, and – wow, what an idea that is. 

“Well, you could tell me more about that plan that you mentioned last night.” You suggest.

“Sure,” he says, moving to kneel beside you, putting a little more space between you. You pout a little, but it does make it easier for you to listen and think with your brain instead of your vagina.

“So I was thinking about you getting yourself off for me,”  Chris begins, his eyes dark but still twinkling. “And by the way, I’m pretty sure I said it at the time, but it was so fucking hot getting to watch that.”

You flush, remembering it. You’re honestly a little surprised that you’d been so bold. Fortune sure did favor you, though.

“And I was thinking about you saying that you had to think about me to come, and I realized that didn’t actually mean that the guys you’ve slept with never made you come. So I guess my question is: am I really the first guy to get you off?”

Your flush deepens somehow. You wish there was a way you could move so that you didn’t have to make eye contact.

“Not quite. There was one time – what I said yesterday was true: most of my hookups were a long time ago. But I went home with one guy more recently. He was funny and cute and I wasn’t even that drunk…” 

“Okay…” Chris encourages you. He cups your face and you look up at him. He’s nodding, coaxing the story out of you, trying to show you that he’s won't judge you for what happened. But your embarrassment wasn't about the promiscuity.

“His name was Christopher.” You admit, scrunching your face.

“Oooooh!” Chris says, and a big, goofy smile spreads across his face.

“Yeah, yeah. As if your ego needed the boost." You roll your eyes at him, but you're smiling, too.

"Oh, yeah, something is getting a boost alright." Chris teases you. "What happened? I'm guessing he didn't look like me or anything."

"He didn't," you agree, "But I couldn’t see his face during because he -- you know --"

"Was fucking you from behind?" Chris suggests, bluntly.

You scowl at him. "Yes. That. So, it's all going fine. Like, not bad for a hookup but not great or anything. But then I realized that I could think about you and not have to worry about calling the wrong name…"

Chris laughs, delighted. "Oh, Sunshine. That's incredible. You came on some other guy's dick, because you were imagining it was me and calling my name?"

"Yup. There you go." You say, breathing out a sigh. "That's the most embarrassing part of all of this. I came harder than I'd ever come before in my life. He thought it was amazing and wanted to get my number but I couldn’t look him in the eye. I left as fast as I could and never went back to that bar again."

Chris is fucking beaming at you. "That is my favorite thing I've ever heard," He declares. "This is better than any birthday present. Any award. The next time I'm feeling bad about myself, I'm going to remember this and feel ten feet tall."

"Yeah, yeah." You reply, rolling your eyes. "You're God's gift to the world, we know."

"And when was this hookup?" Chris asks.

"About a year ago."

"And since then?"

You sigh. "Just me and my hands."

"And me!" Chris reminds you, brightly, "I was there, even if it was only in your head. Or also on your TV?"

"Nuh-uh. We’re not going there. I’m not going to tell you about that part of my process." You say, firmly. Even if he'd find it hot, you still aren't going to tell him just how many times you’ve seen What’s Your Number . He pouts at you, just a little.

"Fine. But a whole year, sweetheart?" Chris says, coming back to straddle you. Then he's sliding his hands under your shirt - his shirt, actually - and running his fingers up and down your torso. Oh. Right . You'd been in the middle of something. "No one's touched you at all for a year?"

“I mean, it wasn’t exactly a sacrifice then. I hadn’t had many experiences worth missing.” You tell him, arching into his hands. You decide to try biting at one of your fingers, the way he does, and you hope it sounds sexy when you whisper: “Like you’ve said, no one ever really touched me properly before you.”

Chris growls. He pulls off your shirt in a powerful movement that lifts your head and shoulders off the bed. His mouth is on your neck, his hands on your breasts, like he’s trying to make up for all the years of touch you missed out on.

You grab his head, hands in his hair, holding him to you. He moans at your touch. 

He sucks a mark onto your collarbone and pulls back to inspect his work. He must be pleased, because he moves to kiss you, his lips rough against yours.

"So I think we've got some catching up to do, huh?" He says, and he cups your face with both hands. "I want to really take my time with you. I want to find every single spot on your body that makes you shiver. I want to explore every inch of you to see what pleasure has been trapped inside you, just waiting for me to let it out."

His eyes are so intense, his words so commanding and his hands so gentle. Everything about him makes you weak. You turn your head and kiss one of his palms, cradling it in one of your own hands.

"So what's stopping you?" You ask him, breathless with want.

The filthy, mischievous smile spreads across his face. "Well, if we're going to do all that, we really ought to eat breakfast first. You're going to need your strength."

You groan, impatient.

"But maybe we can take a few minutes for an appetizer, huh? Something quick?" Chris suggests, sliding a hand down to where you're still covered with delicate lace. "What do you want, Sunshine? My fingers? My mouth?"

You groan again, annoyed at being asked to make a decision. His fingers are teasing under the fabric of your panties to where you're aching for him and the answer comes to you in a rush.

"Your cock. I want you to fuck me."

Chris looks surprised, but only for a moment.

"O-kay," he says, "You don't have to tell me twice."

He leans over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom and deftly rolling it on. Then he pulls off your soaked panties and slowly runs his fingers through your wetness, dipping into you. He rubs deep inside you, his thick fingers touching spots that only increase your need for him.

"Chrissssss," you complain.

"Shhhh, baby," he soothes you, "Just making sure you're ready for my cock. I love how wet you get for me."

He puts his fingers in his mouth and moans, just a little, smiling at you the whole time. "Love tasting you, too." You'd find it sweet if you weren't so fucking desperate to have him in you.

Except then his huge body is moving over you, his gentle but determined hands pushing your legs apart so that he can move in between them, then pinning your hands above your head.

It knocks the breath out of you, feeling the absolute power of his body paired with the certainty that he'll only use it to make your body sing.

He bumps his forehead against yours, checking in. "You tell me if you need anything, okay, Sunshine?"

You nod quickly, gasping out a quiet "yes" and that's all the confirmation he needs. One hand holds your wrists above your head and the other guides his dick inside of you. You don't know how he has the control to move into you so leisurely, and it is impressive, but you don't want that. You don't want slow and controlled.

You bring your knees up around his hips, your feet settling against his ass, and then you drive your feet into him as hard as you can. He's clearly not expecting it, because he crashes into you, his cock sliding home, as deep as it can go. You gasp, not regretting it, but your vagina is aching, overwhelmed by the intrusion.

"What the fuck, Sunshine?" He asks, his eyes wide as he pulls away, luckily not pulling out. He sees the smirk on your face and a shit-eating grin crosses his own. "Oh yeah? Couldn't wait for me, sweetheart? You got a greedy pussy or something?"

You shrug, unashamed. "You were going too slow."

He blows out a breath, like he doesn't know quite what to do with you. He's deep inside you, not pulling out, but not moving, either. You try swirling your hips to get some stimulation but the hand not pinning your wrists presses low on your stomach, just firmly enough that you can't grind against him anymore.

"I think you ought to be a little more grateful." Chris says, and the mischievous smile is back, the indecision gone. "I'm the only guy in the world that can make you come, and you think you can just shove me around?"

"See, I knew your ego -" you start to argue, but then his hands tighten on you and he's leaning in close. A shred of uncertainty twists in your stomach.

"You're going to take what I give you, and you're going to thank me for it." Chris says firmly, but then he whispers, "Tell me 'stop' or 'red' any time if you don't like what I'm doing."

Fuck. Realization slams into you: he's giving you a safe word which means he's about to do something that needs one.

"Green," you gasp, eagerly. He grins, understanding your consent, presses the quickest kiss to your lips, and then leans back again. The grin disappears, his playfulness replaced with purpose as, finally, he starts moving inside you. God, he's huge. You'd mostly relaxed around him while he was immobile, but the slow drag of him has you clenching.

"See, I think you got greedy." Chris says, his voice, his hands, his cock, all of it overpowering you. "You started thinking I was some kind of fucking machine, just for you–"

You open your mouth to argue, a little worried he actually thinks that, but then he winks at you. You take a breath, trying to prepare yourself for whatever he's building up to. His thrusts have sped up a little, and those vibrant spots in your cunt are starting to throb.

"But what you've forgotten is – I'm the one in charge here, baby." His hands, still pinning you against the bed, shift just enough to remind you of his physical control over you, but the motion feels more like a caress than a trap.

"I'm the one with the dick that can split you open. I'm the one that figured out how to lick your perfect pussy. I'm the one that can make you come with just my fingers. I'm the whole reason your body can orgasm at all, and you'd better remember that. Sure, I can make you come, but I can take your orgasms away just as easily."

And then he stops moving in you, only the head of his cock inside you. You whine, trying to move your hips so that you can get more stimulation where you need it. But you can't, because he’s holding you still. Because he's in charge.

"See?" He says, grinning down at you, dark and dirty. 

"Chrisssssss," you complain, clenching on the entirely insufficient length inside of you.

"Ask me nicely." He tells you.

"Chris, pleeeeease," you whine. He kisses you, open-mouthed and filthy. Then he whispers against your lips.

"Please what, sweetheart?" He asks, as if he doesn't know.

"Fuck me! Please! Fuck me, Chris!" you yell, too desperate to feel any shame at all.

"That's better," he says, and finally he's moving in you again. You moan, relieved, your cunt grateful for his return. He groans as you tighten around him, pulling him back into you. He doesn't speak for a minute or two, just moving perfectly inside you. The moment you start to really lose yourself to it, he slows down slightly, and speaks.

"So tell me, Sunshine. That time that you screamed my name while getting fucked by another man–" you groan, the embarrassment of the memory somehow making you hotter. "--did one of you rub your little clit, or did you only need his cock to make you come?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to see his face when you admit it. "Just his cock."

He growls so you open your eyes so you can see his face. He looks – actually you're not sure. Not quite angry. Jealous, maybe? Ravenous?

"Then that's how you're going to come this time." Chris tells you, and his thrusts speed up again. "You're going to come on my cock, with me fucking you, just like you imagined that time. No touching yourself.  No closing your eyes. I want you to look me in the eye when my cock fucks your orgasm out of you."

You nod your head, pleasure and desire rushing through you and making you dizzy.

"Don't move your hands," he commands, and then his hands leave where they were holding you down. He grabs your hips, tilting your pelvis just like he did that first time he fucked you. And again, the movement changes the way he rubs both inside you and against you, and you wail. He smirks.

"Good girl," he croons and, yep, now you're shaking. His hands leave your hips and he crowds you, resting with his weight on his forearms, one on each side of your head. A thumb strokes your hair, and the contrast of domination and gentleness is overwhelming.

"Isn't this better?" He asks you, but you're starting to have trouble processing his words. Your blood is rushing through your body, pounding in your ears and making your swollen clit throb. "Doesn't it feel good to let me take control?"

You nod again, not enough air in your lungs to agree with words. You feel tears forming in your eyes. 

"I gotta say, Sunshine, it feels pretty good for me, too." Chris whispers, his lips ghosting along your cheekbone. "Can't tell you how fucking hot it is to know that I'm the only one that can do this to you. Your body is perfect, reacting to me so well. You're so eager for it, for anything I want to do to you. And I bet that people used to call you a prude!"

They have, and it hurts to hear him say it. You know it's so fucking stupid that the word still hurts, when you're literally having earth-shattering, kinky sex, but your scars and shame run deep. The tears, which had been gathering due to the overwhelming pleasure besieging you, fall in earnest now, caused by the humiliation burning in your chest. Chris kisses the tears as they roll towards your hair.

"Awww, baby," Chris says, "Don't you get it? Those people are the biggest morons in the whole world. Because you're not a prude at all. You, Sunshine, are a total fucking slut for me." He pauses, so deep inside you and then times his next thrusts to push into you with each possessive word. "You're mine to play with, mine to tease, mine to make explode with pleasure. It's all for me . And now you're going to come on my cock , looking in my eyes and screaming my name ."

You whimper, because you are close but you're not quite there yet. You shake your head back and forth, tears still falling, because as much as you want it, as much as you want to be good for him, you don't know if you can. 

"Shhh, baby, it's okay." Chris whispers, "Whatever you're thinking about, whatever you're worrying about, just let it go. Don't think, just feel. Take a big breath for me."

It takes you a second but you manage, inhaling and exhaling a noisy, shaky breath.

"Good girl," Chris murmurs, giving you a gentle kiss as a reward. "See? You can do this. Keep breathing like that for me. Feel the air moving through you. Get out of your head and into your body."

The hand playing with your hair starts to trail down your neck, your shoulder, your breasts.

"Focus on me, babe. My hand on your tit, my lips breathing on yours, my dick stretching you open, pushing into the most secret parts of you. Feel everywhere I'm touching you, everywhere your body is rushing to meet mine. Feels good, right?"

You whine, because of course it does, it feels so fucking good. You're so close and your clit is throbbing. Your nipple is being pinched just hard enough to make you gasp. Your skin is tingling. Your toes are curling.

"Okay. You know the way you clench when you come for me? The way you squeeze me so tight, pulling me deeper into you? Do that for me now."

You do. You'd do anything, anything to come.

"Fuck, sweetheart. That's perfect. Do it again. And again. And again. Keep doing that for me. Good girl, you're being so good for me."

And later, you won't be sure what did it: the intentional muscle contractions, the praise, or the way Chris is looking at you like he could never get enough of you, but you’re breathing harder, and your legs are starting to shake. You can hear a noise, a whining groan, but Chris is talking to you so it can’t be him making it. 

“Come on, Sweetheart, that’s it. You’re right there; right there, just for me. Feels so fucking good to have you squeezing my cock.” His thrusts are so powerful that he’s pushed the both of you up the bed. Your hands are still exactly where he put them, and they’re stopping your head from knocking against the headboard. He must notice this, moving his forearm so that he can put a hand between yours and the headboard, cupping your head. 

“We’re going to come now, together. Can you do that for me? I’m ready for it, ready to push my come into you. D’you want it? Wanna come with me, baby?”

“Chris!” You cry, desperate for it, shaking apart in his arms, pleasure radiating in waves from where he’s pounding into you. You’re squirming, flailing underneath him. Gasping, yelling, moaning.

“Come for me, Sunshine!” He commands you, and you obey. You see his eyes widen as your orgasm overtakes you, feel the way he moves impossibly faster into you. 

“FUCK!” He yells, and for the first time, his unrelenting thrusts lose their rhythm. His hips move erratically as he presses into you in all the right places to make you scream. He’s groaning and you – yeah, you’re still screaming. He stops thrusting, his hip bones digging into your ass as he grinds against you. Your muscles are tired, so tired, but still tightening around him in time with the throbbing of your clit. 

Your hands fly up from where they’d been resting, as if an invisible chain holding them down broke, and you grab at his shoulders, pulling him to you. He responds in kind, sliding his arms under your back to pull you to him until your chests are flush. You hold each other and moan and shake and stare and breathe until you both sag down onto the bed.

He kisses you, clumsy and sweet, and rolls you so that you’re side-by-side. Your head is empty – nothing left in it whatsoever. You just look at him, rubbing your fingers over his face like you need proof that he’s real. He smiles at you and the warmth of it spreads through your still-trembling body.

“Wow,” he finally says, breaking the silence. “That was–” and you’re curious to hear how he’ll describe it, because God knows, you don’t have any words. But he doesn’t finish the sentence, shaking his head, the words escaping him, too.

"Uh-huh," you agree, nodding a little. "Sure was."

He chuckles, and the vibrations rumble through your chest. He kisses you, and you kiss back, but your body is too relaxed to do anything more than press your lazy mouth against his. He's not much better, and you love it. Your brain is starting to work again, and you remember something.

"You lied to me." You tell Chris. He flinches, jaw dropping, instantly worried and confused. "You said you were going to be quick. You told me we were going to have an appetizer, but that was a whole fucking meal!"

He laughs, his relief palpable, and pulls you close to him once more.

Tag list: @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

[freakrenaissance]

Oh, I love how depraved he is in this! Damn, steve! 🥵

Overflow /S. Rogers x F!Reader

summary: There was no time for sex but that doesn’t stop Steve from filling you up.

warnings: SMUT. 18+ only. improper use of a utensil. heavy cum play. anal play. cum inflation. breeding kink. rough sex. light asphyxiation. squirting. slight dubcon (if you squint).

word count:  3,480 (oops.)

author’s note:well, I’m here to ruin another inanimate object for you. Honestly, idk why my mind thought this up at 3am but alas it is what it is.

📖 Master list

Reblogs and Likes are amazing! Feedback and Comments are encouraged!

“Steve, you almost ready?” You yelled from the bathroom as you applied the final layer of mascara to your lashes.

“Yeah, Doll. But we’ve got one more thing to do before we head downstairs.” Steve said from the connecting bedroom.

Keep reading

[bloodyboi]

[starktonyx]

this bucky with this steve

[colmiillo]

me acting like I just didn't read the most filthy nasty hot smut fic of my life

[itrainswhenurhere]

[waltermis]

I miss them 🥹🥲

[that-one-fangirl69]

you ever read a fic so good you just gotta sit there and contemplate your entire existence and everything you’ve ever read before?

[littlelioncub43]

Steve Rogers lives to eat pussy. This man will have you folded in half, legs to the sky, his hands on your thighs while he absolutely devours you. He's sloppy, he's agile, he's sucking and licking everything he possibly can, he's fucking moaning like he's getting head. And he's using his stupid supersoldier strength to hold you in place or lift your hips up to his mouth while he kneels on the floor beside the bed.

Let him eat it. He wants to. He's good at it.

[cinnamoodles]

smut is great but do you know what’s better? heart wrenching, soul twisting angst that makes you want to cry (take my money)

[httpsastral]

"eat the rich" i'm trYING

[buckysghost]

captain america the first avenger : shit bucky has been captured i gotta save him

captain america the winter soldier : shit bucky has been brainwashed i gotta save him

captain america civil war : shit bucky has been framed i gotta save him

[sosa2imagines]

Are you mine?

Warnings- Angst, Steve and Bucky are idiots.

Being in love with Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes felt like living in a dream.

A dream so perfect, so utterly untouchable, that even the ghosts of the past couldn’t tarnish it. The three of you had fought wars together, bled together, and survived against impossible odds. You trusted them with your life and, more importantly, with your heart.

Steve, ever the protector, held your hand through the nightmares, his voice a quiet promise in the dark. Bucky, all sharp wit and unspoken devotion, pressed kisses into your hair when he thought you weren’t paying attention. They made you feel safe, like nothing in the world could shake the foundation of what you had.

You belonged to them, and they belonged to you.

The compound had always been your sanctuary, a place where the weight of being an assassin and an Avenger didn’t feel so heavy.

Missions were brutal, but coming home to them made it worth it. Your mornings were tangled limbs and soft murmurs, their warmth pulling you from restless sleep. Your nights were laughter and whispered confessions, hands intertwined beneath the sheets.

Everything was fine, until she arrived.

A trainee named Cassidy.

Sent to the compound for a few days of “intense training” with the Avengers. Young, eager at least, that’s what Fury had said. But from the moment she walked through the doors, it was clear training was the last thing on her mind.

You caught the way her eyes lingered on Steve's broad shoulders, the way she smiled just a little too sweetly when Bucky grunted in response to something she said. You noticed the way she conveniently positioned herself between them whenever she could, the way her touch lingered just a second too long.

It was nothing. Just admiration, maybe even hero worship. You told yourself that, again and again. Steve and Bucky were yours. They loved you.

And yet… doubt had a way of creeping in, even where trust once lived.

For the first time in a long time, you felt something unfamiliar in your own home.

Unease.

You weren’t the jealous type, you had no reason to be, not when Steve and Bucky had given you every reassurance, every reason to trust them. And you did trust them. You trusted them blindly.

But can you trust the world?

Trust didn’t stop the ache in your chest when you saw Cassidy wedged between them on the couch, laughing at something Bucky said. It didn’t stop the sting when Steve placed a comforting hand on her back, so absentmindedly, so effortlessly, like it was second nature.

Like it was something he used to do for you.

You stood frozen in the doorway, fingers tightening around the edge of your jacket. That was your spot. That had always been your spot. Between them. Their arms around you. Their warmth surrounding you.

Now?

Now Cassidy sat there, twirling a lock of her hair, giggling, her body angled towards them like she belonged. And Steve and Bucky?

They didn’t even notice you standing there.

“You’re imagining things, Y/n.” Natasha leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping her coffee as she watched you pick at your food. She didn’t say it dismissively, but there was caution in her voice. Careful, Y/n. Don’t spiral.

“I’m not...” Your voice was hollow. You pushed your plate away and exhaled shakily. “She’s always there, Nat. Always with them. Always touching them...” You swallowed hard, shame burning in your throat. “I feel like… like I don’t exist anymore.”

Natasha sighed, setting her cup down. “Come on. You know Steve and Bucky. They’d never…”

“I know they wouldn’t.” Your fingers curled into fists. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Natasha studied you, eyes softer now. “Talk to them, then.”

You nodded. You would. Of course, you would.

But deep down, you were terrified they wouldn’t see it, because they never seemed to see you anymore, ever since Cassidy came.

At first, it was small things.

A conversation cut short because Cassidy had a question. A training session where she suddenly needed Bucky to correct her stance, his hands on her wrists, her waist. A mission debrief where she sat beside Steve, too close, her voice too soft.

Then the canceled plans started.

“I’m sorry, Doll, but we promised we’d show Cassidy the training simulations today.”

“I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart. I swear.”

“We’ll take you out tomorrow, okay?”

Tomorrow never came.

And suddenly, your nights felt emptier. You’d wake up reaching for them, only to find cold sheets where they should have been. You weren’t sure what hurt more.

The loneliness or the fact that they didn’t even realize you were lonely.

They were still yours, weren’t they?

Then why did it feel like you were losing them?

It had been days, days since you had a proper conversation with either of them. Days since they held you like they used to. The only time you got them was at night, in bed.

And yet, there she was again, always there, standing too close to Steve as he poured coffee in the kitchen. Bucky leaned against the counter, smirking at something she said, arms crossed over his chest.

“God, Steve, I still don’t know how you carry that shield around all day.” Cassidy reached out, brushing her fingers over his bicep. “Guess it helps that you’re, like, all muscle.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“What about you, Bucky?” She turned to him, eyes bright. “I mean, that metal arm has to be heavy, right? Can I?”

“Nah, sweetheart, it’s lighter than it looks.” Bucky smirked, flexing his vibranium fingers.

Sweetheart.

Your stomach dropped, that was your name. He called you that. Not her.

Your blood ran cold as Cassidy laughed, playfully nudging Bucky’s arm. Steve smiled, amused. Not once did they notice you standing there. Not once did they feel the air shift, the way your entire world was starting to crumble.

That night, you laid in bed alone. Again.

Because, Steve and Bucky had been in the common room with Cassidy, and you couldn’t take it anymore. So you had left.

You curled into yourself, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the sob from escaping.

They were just being nice. Right?

They didn’t see what you saw. Didn’t feel what you felt. Didn’t see how much it was killing you. Right?

And you were too afraid to ask the question burning inside you, “What if they don’t miss me like I miss them?”

You didn’t know how long you had been sitting all alone in the common room.

The compound was quiet, save for the faint hum of the ventilation system. You sat curled up on the couch in the dark, staring at nothing, arms wrapped around yourself as if that could hold you together. The weight in your chest felt heavier than usual, pressing down, suffocating.

You had spent the entire day alone. Again.

They hadn’t noticed. Again.

The cushion beside you dipped, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was. Natasha.

“You’re doing that thing again…” she murmured.

You blinked. “What thing?”

“Shutting down.”

You inhaled sharply, dropping your gaze to your lap.

Natasha sighed, shifting to face you. “Sweets, talk to me.”

Natasha always called you that name, and her reason was you were the only sweet person in her life.

You shook your head. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Bullshit.” She reached out, squeezing your knee. “I see you, you know. The way you’re fading. The way you barely eat. The way you don’t sleep until you’re too exhausted to fight it anymore.”

You swallowed hard, fingers gripping the fabric of your pants.

“They love you, Sweets.” Natasha’s voice was gentle but firm. “This… whatever this is, it’s temporary. They’ll see what’s happening.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “No, they won’t…” Your throat burned as you whispered, “They don’t see me anymore, Nat.”

Silence.

Natasha shifted closer, resting her forearm on the back of the couch. “We survived worse, you and me. Remember?”

You knew where she was leading the conversation, but you didn’t care.

“I wish I could remember.” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Natasha frowned. “Remember what?”

You exhaled shakily, gaze unfocused. “How they trained us. How they made us feel nothing.”

Natasha tensed. “Don’t do that,” she warned. “Don’t go there.”

You lifted your head to meet her eyes. “Why not? It would be easier.” Your voice cracked. “I wouldn’t have to feel like this. Wouldn’t have to wake up reaching for them only to remember I don’t exist to them anymore.”

Natasha’s grip tightened on your knee. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Your smile was hollow. “They canceled our date today, Nat. Again. I was supposed to spend the evening with them. Instead, I spent it watching Cassidy laugh at Bucky’s jokes and touch Steve’s arm and…” You sucked in a shaky breath, voice barely above a whisper. “And they let her.”

Natasha’s expression darkened, but she said nothing.

You turned your gaze back to the floor. “I just… I don’t want to feel this anymore.”

She was quiet for a long time before she whispered, “You’re not in the Red Room anymore, Sweets. You have them. You have me.”

You nodded. But the ache in your chest remained, because deep down, you weren’t sure if you still had them at all.

The bed felt massive. You lay curled up on one side, facing away from the door, the covers pulled tightly around you. The scent of Steve and Bucky still lingered on the sheets, but it brought no comfort.

Then the mattress dipped.

First on one side, then the other. Warm bodies slid in beside you, their familiar presence surrounding you.

“Doll?” Steve’s voice was soft, hesitant.

Bucky shifted behind you, his arm resting loosely around your waist. “We’re sorry about earlier, sweetheart.”

Your throat burned.

“We’ll make it up to you,” Steve added quickly. “We’ve got a whole day planned for you tomorrow. Just the three of us. No interruptions, promise.”

Tomorrow.

You closed your eyes.

They had said that last time.

And the time before that.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, willing yourself to stay silent.

Bucky pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Come on, talk to us, Doll. We know you’re mad.”

Mad.

Was that what they thought this was? Your lips parted, but no words came out. Because what was the point? Tomorrow would come, and it would be the same.

Cassidy would be there.

Steve and Bucky wouldn’t notice.

And you? You would be alone again. A tear slipped down your cheek, but you kept your eyes closed. If you stayed quiet, maybe they wouldn’t hear how badly you were breaking.

Morning passed in a blur.

You moved through training sessions on autopilot, barely speaking, barely feeling. Natasha watched you carefully, her sharp gaze catching every falter, every moment you hesitated before leaving the gym. You knew she wanted to say something, but you weren’t sure if you had it in you to listen.

So you just kept going.

Kept pretending.

Kept waiting for Steve and Bucky to remember.

And then they did. Or so you thought.

“Doll, come on! Movie night’s all set up!”

Bucky’s voice rang through the hall as you made your way toward the common room, a flicker of hope stirring in your chest.

They remembered. They finally remembered.

For the first time in days, your heart didn’t feel so heavy. You ran your fingers through your hair, exhaling softly as you reached the doorway, ready to sink into the warmth of your boys.

And then you saw her.

Cassidy.

Sitting between them.

Again.

Your body locked up, breath catching in your throat. She was curled up comfortably, her legs tucked beneath her as she laughed at something Bucky whispered in her ear. Steve sat relaxed beside her, arm draped over the back of the couch, so damn close, so damn easy, like she belonged there.

Like she belonged with them.

You forced yourself to speak, though your voice barely carried. “What is she doing here?”

Steve turned, smiling at you. That easy, oblivious smile that used to make your heart race.

Now?

It made you feel sick.

“She didn’t know it was just meant to be us,” he said lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “And we didn’t wanna be rude, so…”

You didn’t hear the rest, your ears were ringing.

They didn’t want to be rude to her. You stared at them. At her. And then you swallowed down every emotion clawing its way up your throat. “Enjoy the movie.”

That was all you said before turning on your heel and walking away.

They didn’t call after you.

Didn’t chase you.

Didn’t even notice the way your hands were trembling as you pushed open the door.

The tears came before you even reached the elevator, but you didn’t stop walking, didn’t wipe them away, didn’t care if anyone saw.

Not that they would. No one ever did.

You should have gone to your room. You should have buried yourself under the covers and let the ache consume you in silence.

But the walls were closing in too fast.

So instead, you climbed, up the emergency stairwell, up to the roof, where the air was sharp and cold, where the wind bit at your damp cheeks, where no one could see you break.

Your hands gripped the ledge as you sucked in deep, desperate breaths.

They had remembered and it still hadn’t mattered.

A hollow laugh escaped your lips, bitter and broken. You should have known, you should have known it would end up like this.

You closed your eyes, head tilting back as the city lights blurred beneath the weight of your tears.

You had never felt more alone.

By the time you came down from the roof, your tears had dried, but the weight in your chest remained, suffocating and unrelenting.

You stepped into the hallway, head down, steps quick, just wanting to reach your room, just wanting to breathe without feeling like you were drowning.

But the moment you turned the corner, you froze.

Steve.

Bucky.

And her.

They were standing there, talking, laughing.

Cassidy’s hand was on Bucky’s arm, her body tilted toward him in that way she always did, like she was drawn to him. Steve stood beside them, relaxed, like the world wasn’t crumbling around you.

Like they hadn’t just broken your heart a little more.

Their laughter died down when they saw you.

You knew they noticed your red, swollen eyes. Knew they saw the way your shoulders tensed, the way your fists clenched at your sides.

But they didn’t say anything.

Didn’t ask if you were okay.

Didn’t ask where the hell you had gone.

No, Steve just frowned slightly, like he was trying to piece something together. Like you were some puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

You didn’t give him the chance, you walked past them without a word, without a glance.

Without acknowledging them at all.

And still, still they didn’t stop you.

The compound doors slammed shut behind you as you ran, your feet pounded against the pavement, muscles burning, lungs heaving, but you didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow down, didn’t care where you were going, as long as it was away.

Away from the suffocating silence, away from them, away from her.

You pushed yourself harder, faster, as if you could outrun the pain clawing at your chest, the unbearable ache of being unseen by the two people who were supposed to know you best.

They had always seen you, hadn’t they? Then why did it feel like you were fading? Why did it feel like you were already gone?

You were so lost in your own head, so consumed by the roaring in your ears, that you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you until a firm hand grabbed your arm, yanking you to a stop.

“Enough.”

Natasha.

You blinked at her, breathing hard, vision blurring. But she didn’t let go. Didn’t loosen her grip. She just stared at you, her green eyes filled with something sharp, something dangerous.

Something like determination.

“I let this go on for too long,” she muttered. “That’s on me.”

You swallowed hard, chest still rising and falling in ragged breaths. “Nat…”

“No.” Her voice was steel. “You’re not doing this. You’re not running until your body gives out just because they’re too damn blind to see what’s happening.”

Your throat tightened. “I don’t know what to do...”

She sighed, her hand loosening slightly but not letting go. “Then let me do something.”

Your breath hitched, but you believed in her.

Natasha had always been your anchor, your constant. You had survived hell together. She knew you better than anyone, sometimes even better than Steve and Bucky.

So when she said those words, when she looked at you like that, like she was done watching you suffer, something inside you cracked.

You swallowed hard, voice barely a whisper, “Okay.”

You hadn’t spoken much since that night, since the roof. Since Natasha found you and promised to do something.

You weren’t sure what you had expected, but you hadn’t expected him.

You sat on the rooftop again, legs pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around your knees. The city stretched out before you, endless and glowing, but all you saw was the emptiness.

The way you had been fading, the way they had let you, the way it still hurt.

You exhaled shakily, trying to push it all down, trying to keep yourself from breaking again.

“Bub.”

Your breath caught, your heart stopped, that voice.

Rough. Low. Familiar.

A voice that belonged to only one person.

You turned slowly, the cold air biting at your tear-streaked face and there he was.

Logan.

Your brother.

Standing there, broad and tense, his sharp eyes scanning you with a fury you hadn’t seen in a long time, his jaw clenched.

SNIKT.

The sound of his claws unsheathing was sharp, deadly, cutting through the silence like a blade to the heart.

His eyes darkened, fists trembling, rage radiating from his very being.

“Who?”

It was just one word, just one syllable, but it carried the weight of a storm. You swallowed hard, dropping your gaze.

Logan stepped closer, his boots heavy against the rooftop, his presence overwhelming.

“Who did this to you, Bub?” His voice was lower now, dangerous. “Tell me. I’ll gut ‘em.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Logan...”

“Look at me.”

You did and the moment his eyes met yours, whatever restraint he had left snapped.

“Those sons of bitches!” he snarled, pacing now, breathing ragged. His claws flexed, his shoulders heaved, pure, unfiltered rage pouring from him. “You’re telling me those two idiots, our idiots did this? Made you feel like this?”

You couldn’t answer.

Didn’t have to, because your silence was enough.

Logan let out a rough, guttural growl, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles went white despite the metal already tearing through his skin.

“I’ll kill ‘em.”

“No, you won’t.” Natasha’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and unwavering.

You turned just in time to see her step onto the rooftop, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

“Why the hell not?” Logan snapped. “They hurt her.”

“I know,” Natasha said evenly. “That’s why she’s leaving.”

Your breath hitched, “What?”

Natasha walked toward you, gaze softening as she reached out and brushed her knuckles against your cheek. “Pack a bag, Sweets. You’re going with Logan.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Logan’s brows furrowed. “Wait, you’re actually letting me take her?”

“She needs to get away from here,” Natasha murmured, eyes never leaving yours. “From them.”

You stared at her, then at Logan, your throat tightening so painfully you thought it might close entirely.

“Tasha…”

“No arguments,” she said softly but firmly. “You’re not okay. And I won’t stand here and watch you disappear.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek.

You felt Logan’s heavy hand settle on your shoulder, grounding you, steadying you.

“C’mon, Bub,” he murmured, voice softer now, almost pleading. “Let’s go.”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want to leave.

But because leaving meant giving up. Leaving meant accepting that they had chosen her, that they had chosen everyone but you.

But maybe... maybe they had already made that choice a long time ago.

You inhaled sharply and nodded.

And this time, you didn’t look back.

Part 2

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[comfxrtablykai]

Happy father's day to all the daddies୨ৎ

[bethsvrse]

me, a writer, at 3am: WHAT? I CANT FIND THE SPECIFIC FANFIC THAT I MADE UP IN MY MIND WITH A WHOLE PLOT AND ORIGINAL CHARACTERS??? WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE??? DO THEY EXPECT ME TO WRITE THE STORY I THOUGHT UP OF???

[colmiillo]

"I notice i start getting nauseous in the morning and my period is a week late"

Girl i need to fantasies with a hot man that i don't have a chance on, not with a baby,please kill that thing