#stever x reader

[shybluebirdninja]

Ownership

Summary: You agreed to one night, but Bucky has other plans, making it clear he’s going to keep you—and he wants you carrying his baby.

Pairings           : Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Note               : non-consensual behavior, forced pregnancy

The air in the room is heavy, thick with unspoken tension. Bucky stands in the doorway, his massive frame dominating the space, eyes dark and predatory. He’s watching you, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. It’s unsettling how calm he is, like he’s got all the time in the world. Like he knows exactly how this is going to play out.

“Why you standin’ over there like you got a choice, doll?” His voice is low, gravelly, and it hits you straight in the chest. “C’mere.”

You hesitate, trying to remember the rules you both set. One night. That’s it. But the look in his eyes says different. There’s no way you’re walking out of here without something much heavier hanging over you—without him making sure his mark on you is permanent.

“I said, come here,” Bucky’s tone darkens, a rough edge creeping in, and your body reacts before your brain does, your feet moving toward him. His metal arm reaches out, pulling you flush against his chest, and fuck, the heat coming off him makes your pulse race.

“I’m not letting you go, y’know that, right?” His breath is hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “This ain’t some casual thing. You’re mine. And I’m gonna make sure you know it.”

His hand slides down your back, rough fingertips brushing against the bare skin under your shirt, making you shiver. He smirks when he feels it, gripping your waist harder, like he owns every inch of you. In his mind, he does.

“Bucky,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Shh,” he growls, his lips brushing against your neck. “I’m gonna take my time with you. Make sure it sticks this time. You’re not walkin’ outta here without somethin’ of mine.”

You can feel the power in his body as he presses against you, the steel in his grip, and the raw desire pouring off him in waves. You try to push back, but his grip tightens, his metal hand circling around your throat—enough to hurt, enough to remind you who’s in charge.

“You agreed to one night,” he whispers, lips dragging over your skin, teasing. “But I’m not a man of half-measures, sweetheart. You’re not leaving here until I’ve put a baby in you. Until I know I’ve claimed you for good.”

Your heart pounds, his words sinking deep into your bones.

“You... you don’t have to—” you start, but he cuts you off with a dark chuckle.

“Don’t gotta do a damn thing. But I want to.” His lips curl into a smirk, and he lifts you off the ground like you weigh nothing, carrying you to the bed. The room spins for a second, and then you’re beneath him, pinned by his weight, his hands already working to pull your clothes off, rough and demanding.

His lips crash into yours, claiming, devouring, and you can’t help but moan into the kiss as his tongue pushes past your lips. His hands grip the waistband of your jeans, yanking them down without a care, shredding any barriers between you.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he growls, running his hands over your now-bare thighs, squeezing, as if memorizing the shape of you. “Gonna ruin you, doll. Gonna make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

You’re panting, barely able to think straight as his mouth trails down your body, his breath hot against your skin. His metal arm holds you in place, cold against the burning heat coursing through you, while his other hand grips your thighs, spreading them apart like it’s his goddamn right.

“You like this, don’t you?” he teases, voice dripping with that rough, dominant tone. “You like the way I fuckin’ own you.”

His fingers tease you for only a second before he thrusts them inside, rough and unrelenting, stretching you out in a way that makes you arch your back, a cry ripping from your throat.

“Bucky!”

“That’s right, baby,” he smirks, his fingers working faster, deeper, curling inside you just to hear you scream again. “You’re fuckin’ mine.”

He pulls his fingers out and replaces them with himself, pushing into you with a rough, demanding thrust that has you seeing stars. Every muscle in his body is taut, coiled with tension, and you can feel how fucking hungry he is for you. The pace is slow at first, teasing, but you know it’s only a matter of time before he loses control.

“You think I’m gonna let you go after this?” he growls, his hips snapping against yours, hard and rough. “Nah, baby. You’re stuck with me. Gonna fill you up until you’re pregnant. You’re gonna carry my kid, and I’m gonna make sure of it.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat crashing through you, and you can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips, the way your body responds to his every move. He’s relentless, his pace brutal, pounding into you like it’s the only thing that matters, and in this moment, it is.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice raw with desire. “So tight. You’re gonna take every fuckin’ inch of me, and you’re gonna thank me when I’m done.”

You can barely breathe, barely think as he keeps thrusting into you, harder, deeper, making sure you feel every inch of him. He leans down, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“I’m gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna make you mine in every fuckin’ way. You’re gonna carry my kid, and you’re gonna love every second of it.”

You can feel yourself unraveling beneath him, your body tightening around him as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic, desperate. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock. Let me feel you fall apart.”

You shatter beneath him, your body convulsing as pleasure crashes over you like a wave, and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. He just keeps fucking you, riding you through your orgasm, determined to make this last.

When he finally lets go, he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you, and you can feel the hot rush of his release as he fills you.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice rough and breathless. “Now you’re mine. And you’re not going anywhere.”

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

pillow talk

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

wc: 1K

warnings: this is post activities, so its safe. just sweet sweet fluff

summary: post sex discussions

A/N: used the prompt sweet after sex by @jasminesfury *not proofread, i’m confusing myself so badly looking at one specific sentence*

masterlist / steve harrington

the sun was setting. orange and yellow hues sparkled through the windows that the curtains let peek through. the room was quiet, the only noises coming from the shared breathing and the rustling of the bedding. the room felt hot with the door closed and the previous activity that had you and steve just laying in bed with the sheets up to your naked, sweaty chests.

steve rolled over and changed from laying on his back to his stomach, staring at his ceiling while adjusted his body so his head lay on your stomach. he had one leg in and the other out, your right leg in between. steve managed to wiggle an arm under your back as his free hand drew whatever came to mind onto your sticky belly.

a tilt to your head as it lay on the pillow, a lovesick smile tugging the seams of your lips. a hand fell on steve’s head and you began running the digits through his thick head of brown hair with a few lighter parts popping out from his time in the sun. nails scratching at his scalp to pull vibrating groans or fingers twirling strands of ruly hair around.

steve rubbed his open palm over your waist and down to your thighs before trailing up again. his wonderful lips plant wet, open-mouth kisses over your stomach and the imperfections scattered over your lower half. his nose would glide over your belly button before setting his chin just above it to peer at your with lidded eyes.

“yes, handsome?” you hummed as you pushed hair behind his ear.

“i love you.”

three words, eight letters.

the two of you have said them for years. at first just surface level meaning, friendly-familia meaning, something you say in passing to your parents as you leave the house in a hurry or friends when they do a favor for you. but eventually, the words held a different meaning for the two of you. it would be lingering touches and eye contact maintained longer that was acceptable. staring at steve’s side profile as he talked, letting your thoughts run away from you with imaginary scenarios before shaking them away and landing back to reality.

and now the words held all those meanings, silver bands wrapped around ring fingers showing the world.

“i love you too, stevie.” thumb straightening his left brow into place.

steve rubbed his thumb up and down at your hip bone. more kisses pressed to your stomach, some quick and open, some more lingering, and some with heat as he gave little bites at the skin. you would giggle or squirm, a moan pulled from your throat when the feel of his lips felt tantalizing. fingers would curl and pull steve’s hair in response, you would feel the smile as he continued his loving assault.

“you know,” lingering kisses to your lower stomach, “i can’t wait to have kids with you.”

“oh, yeah?” top teeth biting into your bottom lip to stop a smile.

steve stopped the kisses (much to your disappointment) to once again rest his chin on your stomach. it was slightly discomforting but you didn’t push him away.

“yeah. i know you don’t want many if we were to have our own. so i want an older girl so she can help keep her younger brother in line.”

you let your index finger run down the slope of steve’s nose bridge, “how long have you been thinking about this?”

the quick dart of steve’s eyes piqued your interest. he only did that when he was embarrassed by the information he was about to lay out. you didn't push him, just observed him as you waited.

you felt steve’s voice but didn’t hear it. he spoke his words into your skin and it took you a moment before you realized he said anything. you asked him to repeat it politely.

he cleared his throat. “since our third date.”

“why our third date? if this was a romance anything, you would’ve said our first date.” you weren’t criticizing, just curious. you just remember it as a fun roller rink date.

your simple question sparked a twinkle in steve’s pupils. “i know what you're thinking.” “what am i thinking?”

“that it was just a roller rink date. why is that so special to start thinking about kids? right?” a shrug was your answer. steve continued his version of the story.

“okay. well, i was getting us food and you stayed in our booth. after i placed our order i leaned against the wall so i could continue to watch you-“ “stalker.”

steve tickled at your sides, breaking you into fits of laughs and tears before you conceded. “anyway. i was staring at you, my mind just constantly saying, “you got your girl”. and then you stood up and walked to a claw game. i was gonna rush over so i could impress you, but stopped when i saw you crouch down and start talking to a little boy. then you started to play the game and after many, many, many-“ you shoved his shoulder and the both of you chuckled, “many tries. you got the boy a stuffed animal. and in his excitement, he hugged you. and just seeing the way you froze before holding him tightly with your eyes closed…”

steve trailed off and you could feel the tears wishing to fall. hands grabbing for steve’s cheeks and giving a slight tug to signal him to climb up your body. his hands sat by the sides of your chest as you planted kiss after kiss over his face. a kiss to the side of his lip and you move his head back.

“here’s a potential plan. we wait another year or two, getting more marriage on the plate and getting used to our grown-up jobs. and then from there, we could start having a bit more carefree sex and just… see what happens. what d’you think?”

steve’s eyes went side to side then to your lips and back to your eyes. “i say…” he leaned closer, lips ghosting each other as he whispered, “that’s a good plan, honey.” and he kissed you until you couldn’t remember your name, only steve’s.

-

[kqutie]

THE PRINCESS' SEVEN MERCENARIES

CHAPTER TWO : A FATEFUL MEETING

relations. : cevans various/reader -- steve rogers/reader ; curtis everett/reader ; ari levinson/reader ; lloyd hansen/reader ; andy barber/reader ; jake jensen/reader ; ransom drysdale/reader

chpt. sum. : your stepmother wants you dead but you're able to make a swift escape with the help of the huntsman who was meant to kill you. into the woods you go in search of a new and better life!

tags. : these men don't know what they're in for; lloyd and ransom don't trust you ; andy needs a hug ; disney princess reader ; snow white and the seven dwarves au ; fairy tale au ; fluff ; domestic fluff ; a/b/o universe but it's not the central point ; disney princess reader and her seven sexy mercenaries hehe~

length. : 4.4k

← one. a swift escape | navi. | series masterlist

“Even more peculiar,” Andy whispers as the group of four step into the front door of their quaint cottage, only to immediately smell the scent of a delicious meal saturating the air. The mercenaries were unaccustomed to their home having any form of ‘lived-in’ smell, owing to their packed schedules and demanding occupations. For the majority of their days, they were so preoccupied with their current assignment that they couldn’t even bask in the feeling of having an actual home for once. Hence, the fragrant aroma in the air was a pleasant surprise. 

“Smells good,” Curtis comments as Lloyd swiftly moves to the bottom of the stairs, ready to eliminate whoever intruded on his—their home!

“Let’s get this fucker already,” Lloyd snaps under his breath and takes the lead in the search upstairs. Behind him, Curtis nods back at Steve and Andy before splitting off silently by the staircase. 

There have been many ambushes on their group, in part, due to their line of work but Steve has never been so flummoxed by an ambush attempt before. Was it even an ambush? It was difficult to keep such an alert mindset when nothing seemed overly suspicious. There wasn’t any dubious tension in the air nor was there a haunting stillness about the environment, in fact—

“What’s that smell?” Steve questions, teetering on the boundary between alert and heedless. 

“The food?” Andy provides only to be met with a negative. 

“There’s something else in the air…”

Another curious silence is shared between the two mercenaries as they traverse their living space. From memory, due to the lack of lighting, they gather that they’ve made it halfway through the living room already yet nothing has happened. Disregarding their muted steps across the wooden floors, their subdued breaths and the rustling of their clothes, there’s simply nothing but stillness and peace in the air. 

“Nothin’ up here,” Lloyd’s voice suddenly buzzes through everyone’s earpiece and breaks the, somewhat, taut atmosphere. Both good news and bad news depending on who it was directed to, and whatever the hell was actually happening, “Curt and I are heading down now,”

“Conservatory’s clear, we’re moving to the kitchen,” Ari chimes in just as Steve and Andy pick up on mute footfalls making their way to the entrance of their cooking and dining area. The trio coming in from the garden entrance refrain from drawing attention to the peculiar sight of their clean laundry hanging from the washing lines. Even though it was bizarre, it remained a largely innocuous sight. 

“I’ve never heard of an intruder who does our laundry…” Ransom had commented as Ari and Jake hummed in agreement beside him. 

“Turned off the fire,” Jake helpfully inputs, indicating that his group have now entered the kitchen space. 

“So helpful, Jake,” Ransom sarcastically comments, the roll of his eyes obvious in his tone. 

“It could have been a bomb,” their technician argues back and barely resists the urge to raise his voice. 

“A bomb that smells like stew? That’s a first,”

Before Jake and Ransom begin a petty fight, Ari silences them both with a well-placed, cold stare. Usually a gentle giant, along with Curtis, it wasn’t common for Ari’s temper to make even a slight appearance, so whenever there was a small sign of it, everyone shut their mouths and righted themselves. It was difficult considering the majority collectively shared the same second gender (alpha) with Jake and Ransom being the only Betas, but that’s why they were in such high demand. The majority’s innate dominance and survival instincts worked in their favour. And, with Jake and Ransom to balance out the group as betas who dominated in their own separate skill sets, the group’s services only proved more favourable. Combined, they were a formidable force and in high demand. It was unfortunate that their main clients were very unsavoury characters. This more recent one was their only decent client so far.  

“So that’s what that peculiar smell is,” Steve comments, his shoulders lowering in disbelief and respite as he finally spots your bundled figure curled up on their living room sofa. Everyone’s attention is drawn to their captain, his comment and loosened tone steadily releasing the tension in his group mates’ taught figures. 

“An omega?” Andy affirms with slightly widened eyes, “What’s she doing here?” an omega with a high affinity for magic… Andy resumes the thought in his head, remembering Jake’s earlier analysis, and looks over at Steve, who shares his thoughts telepathically. 

Light from the kitchen drapes a warm glow over your bundled-up form as a nearby window shines moonlight across your delicate features – the only thing they’re able to see of you. Slowly, the group from the kitchen moved to stand in the archway through to the living room before splitting off to guard all exit points. No stranger was to be underestimated. With sharp eyes, they observe whatever little features they’re able to discern from their separate vantage points. Their curiosity slowly rises but with their trust in Steve, their captain, and the religious practice of their routine operations, they find it best to stay back and let those closest to you handle the upcoming confrontation.  

“What the fuck is this bitch doing in our house?” Lloyd materialises out of the darkness, his eyes and pinched expression indicating his rough intentions. The alpha doesn’t discriminate between male, female, non-binary, second gender presentation, age, social status, occupation or anything remotely indicative of an individual’s identity because he merely doesn’t care. If you’ve done anything to offend him, he’s not going to stand for it – he’ll beat you down until you’re eating dirt. 

“She’s small,” Curtis comments from behind his enraged mercenary partner. 

“I don’t care, she needs to go!” Lloyd reaches forward but his rough hands are pushed away by Andy, who effectively manipulates Lloyd back so that Steve can kneel by your head and shake you awake.  

A large hand shakes your shoulder and forces you into gradual consciousness. For a moment, you rub your eyes and grumble tiredly before your current situation finally dawns on you and a gasp escapes your lips. Suddenly alert, you sit up and lock gazes with a beautiful blue set. However, you quickly realise that this handsome, clean-shaven blonde with the ocean in his eyes wasn’t the only one present in the room. Your eyes connect with six other figures scattered about the space, who are openly observing your figure as well. 

All the attention makes a heat rise in your neck as your heart begins to race. All of them were handsome in their own way and stood a great deal taller than you, with broad shoulders, muscular arms, slim waists and thick thighs. You can’t believe men like this actually existed. Not even the knights patrolling the perimeter of the castle stacked up to the select few before you.

You finally look back at the blonde man in front of you, who has no space to say anything when you hurriedly blurt out your well-rehearsed, opening speech, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” the blonde waits for you to continue, no longer appearing to want to say anything and allowing you to finish speaking, “I just really needed a place to stay and, perhaps, some directions to the nearest village tomorrow?” behind him, his friends look towards one another, silently conversing about the situation, “I-I promise I won’t stay long…a-and as an apology, I made you dinner?” your words rang with uncertainty. Biting down on your bottom lip was evidence enough of your anxiety. No intruder with the intent to kill would look so anxious over such a demure request. 

But it could all be an act…

“Well, I suppose we can accommodate you for the night,” Steve concludes with a soft smile as Lloyd’s complaints get muffled by Curtis’ large hand. He didn’t want to alert you of their operations, so it’s best to appear like a normal group of men living together peacefully in the forest, “but I’m afraid we don’t have an extra room upstairs so you’ll have to make do with the sofa…” Steve isn’t usually one to lose focus but finds his thoughts slowly straying the longer he looks into your eyes and observes the sparkling delight shining in them. His mention of allowing you to stay only seemed to make them dazzle more. 

“Oh! It’s no trouble! Your sofa is very comfortable,” you chirp so innocently and happily that every man in the room gapes in awe of you. Lloyd is about to scoff at your aggregability but is cut off when you quickly hop onto your feet and rush into the kitchen, effectively interrupting his big, petulant display of displeasure. “It seems like you’ve all had a long day so you must be hungry, let me serve you dinner,” they watch as you pull a sheepish expression when approaching the stove, “I hope you don’t mind that I used your kitchen and your food to cook,”

If you’re telling the truth it should bode well for them. Steve nods singularly at Curtis who immediately looks into their food storage to see if there’s anything missing. When Curtis can confirm that there was produce missing, he returns Steve’s silent nod. This was a good sign, although it doesn’t fully absolve you from a poisoning attempt — it would be even more suspicious if you used your own ingredients and feigned goodwill with the excuse of not wanting to ‘steal’ from their food storage.   

“As long as we finally get to have a warm meal at home, you can cook up everything in our pantry,” Jake grins boyishly, which Steve mentally thanks him for. Trust Jake to break the ice and avoid any awkwardness with his saccharine charisma. The paramour of the group on missions is usually Ransom but that’s for missions only — for instances like this that are off-duty and could likely lead to awkward interplay, Jake has just the right charm to keep things going in a good direction. Their magi-tech genius sometimes goes so far as to take the awkwardness on for himself and draw attention away from the rest of the group – it’s come in handy multiple times but Steve doesn’t believe Jake sees this quality for what is. Ransom certainly does and takes full advantage of occasionally recruiting Jake for some of his machiavellian assignments. 

As you potter about the kitchen space, the men take up their assigned seats at the long dining table. There was enough space for everyone, even you. As the captain, Steve naturally takes up the head of the table, leaving the only remaining chair at the other end of the table. Across each other, the mercenaries meet eyes, silently conversing and trying to convey their opinions of you. They’ve been a group for so long that it’s not hard to observe everyone’s standing. Jake doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, he’s pleasantly surprised and happily accepts the circumstance. Steve, Andy, Curtis and Ari remain nonchalant about the situation, their feelings never really tipping to one side. Lloyd remains visibly irate whilst Ransom appears to have calmed down a bit, however, a disgruntled arch remains on his lips. 

Steve can tell that everyone’s exhausted. Even Lloyd. Their days are often very taxing so it’s hard to cook a warm meal when they get home. Ari and Andy are the only decent cooks among them but, by the time they make it back to the cottage, sometimes separately, they don’t have the energy to do anything else other than converse about tomorrow’s steps forward. Every night ends with getting to sleep on unsatisfied stomachs and lingering displeasures, only to wake up the following day and do it again. This is all they know and it’s hard to break the routine. Everyone’s accustomed to finally letting their guard down as soon as they get back home atop the exhaustion; they can’t find it in themselves to openly protest or question their pretty, graceful little intruder like they know they should. 

“Let me heat up the bread rolls for a bit,” you pipe up softly, turning to the group with a warm smile, “but that gives you all just enough time to wash up,” they blink in surprise before most nod and oblige. Lloyd stubbornly stays in place and when Andy arches a brow at him, a silent question, Lloyd gives a short, snappy answer. 

“She can’t be trusted. I’m staying right here. I’ll go when someone else comes back and can keep an eye on her too,” 

Andy gives an understanding nod but doesn’t move to follow everyone else to their upstairs washrooms. When you look upon the two with curious eyes and an adorable (though Lloyd would never admit it) tilt to your head, Andy offers a reassuring smile.         

“There isn’t enough space in the washroom upstairs for all of us to go at once so Lloyd and I will stay here and wait our turn,”

Accepting the explanation you return your attention to the bread rolls. Placing a damp but clean towel over the array, you open the oven and bend down to put the tray inside. Andy has the decency to avert his eyes but not Lloyd. He eyes your bent-over form with a snarl, determined not to fall for your innocent endearingness, clothed in a plain but complementary dress, covered by a cosy, cable-knit cardigan. You’re not cute or pretty or worth his attention — he isn’t a dunce and he won’t make a fool of himself over some woman.  He’s seen this show and dance before, the innocent, damsel-in-distress omega that needs help from an alpha. It’s such a cliche display, Lloyd can’t believe he hasn’t openly disparaged your antics yet. 

Andy, on the other hand, finds himself wishing for something like this to become more commonplace. It’s a blissful dream he cherishes – to be able to have a love that he can come home to after a hard day’s work and be spoiled by domestic bliss. Someone to bring flowers to, someone to work hard for, someone to look forward to seeing at the end of each and every day. Seeing you glide through the kitchen with the skirt of your dress billowing behind you makes him want to sigh in contentedness and dismay all at the same time. He knows he isn’t the only one out of their group who wishes for stability and an easy life like this. It’s impossible for them to even dream of this simple joy. But getting a small glimpse of this domestic life brings about an urge in Andy. It makes him want to push and fight to attain such candid happiness – something that feels easy and euphoric, his own paradise on earth, shared with someone special. 

“That’s your name?” you ask innocently, placing a large underplate beside the vase of flowers at the dining table before moving to retrieve a cloth for transferring the stew.

“Yeah, Lloyd Hansen,” the grump confirms. 

“Hansen?” Lloyd tenses at your piqued interest. He remains taut when you turn around with your ever-present, warm smile, carefully lifting the crockpot of stew over to the table. 

“What about it?” Lloyd snaps defensively, ignoring the warning clench of Andy’s fingers over the slope of his shoulder. 

“I just knew a very kind man named Hansen,” you sheepishly admit, hurrying to gloss over the topic at the sight of Lloyd’s inquisitive brow raise. Introducing yourself simply, you then turn your attention to Andy, who also introduces himself in return. 

“My name is Andrew, Andrew Barber, but everyone just calls me Andy,” 

Lloyd snarls when you lie about it being a pleasure to meet them but is swept away when Andy roughly pulls out of his chair. The others had begun to filter back into the dining room. It was the pair’s turn to wash up and head upstairs as they distantly heard you introduce yourself to the rest of the group behind them. 

“Let me help you with that,” Ari helpfully sets the table with you as the others take their seats once more and introduce themselves one by one. The bearded, giant of a man smiles faintly when you thank him for his assistance, finding that he rather enjoys seeing your smile and prettily beaming eyes directed at him — even if it’s just for a second or two. “I’m Ari, by the way,” You smile at how lovely his name sounds and freely tell him so. He seemed shocked at your vivacious demeanour but doesn’t comment on it, happy to indulge in your refreshing mannerisms. 

Steve was the clean-shaven blonde that sat at the head of the table; you assume he’s the big man in charge despite his much gentler appearance compared to some of the other characters sitting about the table. Curtis is the gruff-looking one who politely takes off a woollen cap to reveal his buzzed hair; you gauge that he’s the silent, observant type. Ransom is unlike the others in his fashion, dressed in a comfy, cable knit sweater; he looked approachable but there was something about him that made you second guess yourself. You don’t quite know how to feel about that. Lastly, there was Jake who grins freely and seems a little more energetic than the others around him. His good mood is contagious and helps you feel at ease.   

Everyone watches as you take out the bread rolls and go about the table, carefully placing a roll on their side plates, your smile never dropping. The rest were placed in a basket at the table within everyone’s reach. Plenty were left so you reassured them that they could grab another if they were feeling extra peckish. 

“Thank you,” Steve voices sincerely as everyone eyes the delicious meal laid out before them. One by one, they had begun serving themselves a portion of the beef stew you had thoughtfully prepared. It was all from the same pot so they plan on waiting for you to take the first bite, avoiding a sly poisoning attempt. “It’s been far too long since we’ve had a warm meal to come home to,”

“It’s really no trouble,” you smile down at your lap, taking a seat at the other end of the table, “it’s the least I can do for your kindness in letting me stay the night despite being a complete stranger,” 

Everyone observes your words and actions with great care. They have an eye for deceit; Ransom has taught them all about the common tricks he plays to earn the trust of those they need to fool on missions, however, nothing about your actions so far appear fraudulent to them. It was strange. Perhaps it’s because they’re trained to think this way that they have such lingering doubts about your innocence. 

It isn’t long until Andy and Lloyd return to the table and fill their bowls too. “Apologises for the delay,” Andy is the only one with the decency to express his regret, Lloyd simply grumbles under his breath. 

You don’t seem to catch on to their plot of watching you take the first bite and wait for any adverse side effects to occur before they can deem the food safe enough to consume themselves. Thankfully, you taste the bread roll and stew all at once, dipping a piece of the roll in the stew to taste together. That’s all they needed and finally allowed themselves to savour the bliss of having a homecooked meal after a long, hard day of work. 

Lloyd hates to admit it but he appreciates the hearty dinner. It’s an indulgence he happily dismisses his earlier wariness for, wanting to enjoy the meal to the fullest. He can get back to being bitter about the situation and you, later. Curtis manages to smile modestly at the warmth the stew fills him from within. It’s been so long since they’ve indulged in such an innocent, domestic pleasure. Perhaps you were a blessing in disguise, put there to quench their deprived existence. Andy, again is given a soothing balm to soothe one of his deepest desires – a happy home. He finds he’s unable to look up and face you, knowing that his expression will leave him and his yearning vulnerable to everyone’s criticisms. Jake and Ransom meet eyes across the table and grin at each other. As the only two betas, they have a more intimate kinship between them and both can tell that the other is incredibly satisfied with the situation. Yes, they have petty fights but they agree on a lot of things too, this tasty meal being one of those things. It didn’t start off ideal but this was a repose everyone had been craving. And they were more than eager to indulge in the moment too. 

Steve observes everyone at the table with Ari. They understand that the type of occupation they have aligns with a lifestyle that typically doesn’t have this type of scenario playing at the end of every day. This is surely something they would cherish for a long time. As time passes, they slowly realise how misplaced their judgement and wariness were. Finally, they can relieve themselves of that burden and fully enjoy the rare evening.     

Slowly regaining their strength throughout the meal, everyone settles down and begins to ease up for the night. The chatter fluctuates, sometimes it’s loud, sometimes it’s quiet but everyone goes for seconds and thirds before you can even get through half of your plate. 

“So how did you get here?” Trust Jake to ruin the mood in such a way. It’s the obvious question on everyone’s minds and was asked it in the most innocuous tone possible, only to be met by the most awkward silence to ever fall over the group as everyone turns their focus on you.  

You contemplated telling them the truth or not. These men deserved your honesty but you don’t know if it would result in further danger, your stepmother had a lot of magical artefacts nobody knew about; you can’t make careless decisions. And you weren’t about to risk yourself or these kind men’s safety so you go for something in between — a half-truth, “...I ran away”

“From what?” Ransom demands in an almost threatening tone. He’s back on the defensive, along with Lloyd, the two of them eyeing your shrinking form disparagingly. Jake, seeing the reaction of his teammates, feels immense guilt for having put you in a difficult situation and looks to the only person he trusts to placate the tension, Steve.  

“Calm down, Ran,” Steve sends him a warning glare despite his level voice. 

“No, I think he has a point and if she’s going to stay the night then I think we’re owed an explanation,” Lloyd’s eyes don’t leave you, his gaze fixed, cold and untrusting. 

“I uhh…” you begin to get nervous. You don’t want to reveal that you’re the princess but you’re feeling the pressure from all the attention atop Lloyd and Ransom’s demands. Everyone can see that you’re fighting with yourself and expect you to finally confess to something. However, rather than reveal the truth or lie further, you go for the third option, “…I-I think I should just go…” with a weak smile, you get up from the table — free to do so without protest as the mercenaries are either shocked or vehemently glaring at Lloyd and Ransom. 

Your bowl of beef stew is only half eaten and your bread roll has a few bites left in it. Nobody can meet your eyes as you hurriedly cross the dining room to the living space with your head down and take back your basket from behind the sofa you fell asleep on. You don’t bother with collecting the perishable foods you had stashed in their cool storage, thinking it a lost cause. For the final time, you look at them through the large archway connecting the living space and dining area, “I’m so sorry for the intrusion but thank you for letting me stay this long. Please enjoy the rest of the food. I umm… I baked some banana bread and made whipped cream to have with for dessert,” you’re about to turn and leave, bidding them farewell when you’re stopped by a mountain — Curtis stands in your path, blocking your escape 

“They’re being pricks so their opinions don’t matter,” his voice is much more gentle than you imagined, “you can stay,” the bearish man takes advantage of your hesitation and leads you back to your seat with a large hand on your lower back. He pulls the chair out for you and tucks it back in as you sit down again. You can’t meet anyone’s eyes, the tension in the air, still too high.

“You can stay regardless of whether you tell us your reasoning or not,” Steve voices, meeting your gaze kindly when you snap your head up in surprise. It’s obvious to all parties (except for Lloyd and Ransom) know that you don’t mean them any harm so they’re happy to let the incident pass and offer up their home. It isn’t even their permanent residence, only the one given to them by their employer on the conditions of their year contract. 

“Ransom and Lloyd are a little possessive but their rough edges aren’t very dangerous,” Ari offers, the insight on the two characters no longer seems necessary after the interactions you’ve had with them. However, it was reassuring for it to be said aloud by someone, “Just ignore them, we all do” his kind smile beneath his thick beard urges you to offer a hesitant one in return.    

Ransom eyes Andy who doesn’t acknowledge his obvious glare. As the negotiator of the group, Andy was well-equipped with the skills to weasel some admittance from you but he clearly has no interest in getting any sort of information. Andy remains a silent observer. He’s aware of Ransom’s dismay but doesn’t acknowledge him, making the man’s stare turn icy. Too righteous Ransom scoffs in his head. Everyone knows about each other’s past. Clearly, Andy was still especially soft around women, those who were gentle and kind, the homey type, omegas especially. You were the perfect image of that so there’s no hope of Ransom ever getting Andy to do anything. 

Great, just great, the pathetic, sappy asshole. Lloyd grumbles internally, he was a witness to the silent interaction between Ransom and Andy, and had arrived to the same conclusion. Their negotiator isn’t budging. The only person able to influence Andy would be Steve but you have their captain wrapped around your little finger too. Hopeless! The lot of them!  

navi. | series masterlist | three. a different morning →

a/n : how did you like the chapter? what did you think of our boys? this is my side account so i don't know how updates are going to be like but i hope you enjoy the series so far! more fluff to come soon!

taglist : @imyourbratzdoll

p.s : i have a queen in my taglist…the literal writer who inspired this series the most is on my taglist!!!!! MAMA IM FAMOUS!

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Under The Radar

Complete

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

[scentedpepper]

Frozen Bonds

THE WINTER SOLDIER X GN READER

• credit to rightful owner

Summary: In the confinments of a sorry excuse for shelter, you and Bucky create a cricle of untouched energy.

Content Warnings: Slight descriptions of injuries.

Other Pairings: Steve Rogers x GN Reader, Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes, Sam mentioned

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

This is not the marvel fic I was talking about in my jasper post lol

Takes place after the events of Captain America: Winter Soldier in which Steve and Sam go searching for Bucky

Still disappointed that there wasn't some movie or series to highlight this, I wouldve killed to see more Steve and Bucky content but also just more Steve content

_________________________________________

You can handle an arctic environment well. You were constantly stuck in the arctic territories when you were still only a few thousand years old. Even with nothing but a tree or two, there were constant blizzards that would drop the temperatures to below zero fahrenheit and you struggled not to maintain a persistent living in the environment.

It was not the cold you were worried about, nor the snow blowing through the gap below the creaky old wooden door of the cabin and the floor. The structure felt claustrophobic and like a prison. It may have been centuries since you've ever worn a collar of any kind, but you had the idea that this was what it felt like to be back in those shackles again.

And yet, even these thoughts seem to cease to the back of your mind when you heard the thrashing and screeching as the Winter Soldier kicked and punched against his restraints behind you. He was making an absolute ruckus that you're half sure would prompt concern if it weren't for the sound of the storms blizzard blanketing any other noises he made.

You looked to him almost plainly, unimpressed by his antics but the disdain in your brow was quite obvious. It took a minute of his flailing against his restraints –bounds of thick, purple, dark purple that often was mistook for black, wounded tightly around his body, unbreakingly– for him to settle with the fact that his arm was no match to your divine powers.

Once he was silent, only but a livid panting that made his teeth chatter, did the harsh bite of frost in the air seem to calm. Slowly, the flurry dissipated and the room warmed– but only just slightly.

There was a piece of cloth tied around the lower half of his face but the way he stared at you, with eyes so pale in their darkness they made the ice they mimicked miniscule in comparison, made it known that he was intending to kill you.

He has no idea who you are. Letting him fume had hardly done you any favors besides the sense that the feeling is mutual.

With a rather annoyed sigh, you snapped your fingers, the tattered fabric disappearing into nothing but a fine mist.

There was a flash of some expression in Bucky's eyes, something similar to discomfort, but you're sure it's more from the fact that you can snap your fingers and practically strip him of his dignity than it is to the lack of comfort he might've had with a cloth over his face.

He's a lot more appealing than you remembered.

The silence settles with a prickling heat between your two equally stubborn bodies, Bucky refusing to say a word and you finding that the conversation would hardly flourish from a one-sided endeavor.

Your tempted to put something much harsher than a cloth over his mouth as he seems to grunt in your general direction with his gruffness and animalistic-like grit. He's like a broken lion. No wonder he was named as the Winter Soldier– he sure acts like one.

"Struggle all you want. You're not getting out of those bindings." Your tone leaves no room for further questions on the matter, but that did not stop him from growling further.

He did not speak back, only stared as you made way for the shabby window nearest to you. The view was that of only what you saw two hours prior, a never ending amount of tall white snow, the skies dull and cloudy with the flakes dropping off into dark spots where dropping temperatures naturally followed suit.

You felt a breath gather in your chest in anticipation, as if Steve and Sam might suddenly appear amongst the snow, only to release it with a sharp exhale, running a hand down your face and grasping at the wrinkles beginning to form in the skin.

It was just you and Bucky in these depths of nothingness.

And as the realization truly dawned on you the weight of your long past seemed to seep into every inch of your body, spreading a new chill across your bones even the hot blood pumping in your veins cannot thwart.

Silence.

He does not speak.

He does not shout.

Silence.

Save for the soft rustling of the howling wind and your thickening inhales and exhales, a sound that does not register into his ears.

Silence.

Barely anyone knows you're here except a distant pair who won't return for the foreseeable future. They don't know about the Winter Soldier and the mere thought of death does not seem to register within your mind.

You are not threatened by the man staring at you like a wild animal trapped in a cage, biding the perfect moment to strike. If you do not respond to his caging, you may become a potential hunter yourself, though the very idea of sinking your claws into his jugular crosses your mind more than once.

You resist, saving Steve from heartache had to be at the top of your list of priorities and until the struggle that brought the two of you here, you had no qualms about wanting to bring him home. But Bucky is in there somewhere and this has turned from finding the Soldier into saving him from the cage of his own mind.

Patience. You were nearly the last thing in the universe to have it, but at this very moment, saving someone's soul and life is a reason to gain a little bit.

It was just you and Bucky.

"We'll be here a while. I'm afraid the conditions are too harsh to go looking for Steve and Sam. " You turned to face him with crossed arms, standing away from the window. The sound of your voice is unfamiliar, more alien than a stranger and the sensation of foreignness spreads over your body. He did not look impressed with the situation or with the presence you pose, but he did not protest it. "Nor will I be leaving you to wreak havoc and harm. "

Bucky's gaze shifts to the window as he pulls at the restraints a final time before settling, but you swear you see a glare.

"Are you aware of your misdoings? Can you talk, soldier?" Your tone was brisk and non-nonsense, hands falling down to your waist as you shifted your weight from one foot to another. You didn't like just standing around to look pretty.

You would speak to him in terms he knew. Simple, clear and to the point. "Steve had informed me of the things Hydra did to you, including something similar to these bindings. "

"Soldier..." Bucky repeated hoarsely, squinting in your direction. Siff, riddled with so much thickness from lack of use.

It was a start.

"I am not an enemy. Steve and I are here to take you home. "

His expression melted as you scanned him, dark eyebrows pinching together as he seemed to not believe you. His body was insistently and involuntarily twitching, and every instant seemed to make his muscles more tense, more rigid, like he was fighting a losing battle in trying to keep himself still.

Your lip quirked, the slightest of a fraction that you're sure his boring eyes caught as you regarded the human before you.

Shivering.

You hadn't noticed in the whirlwind, but his shivering was nonstop, a convulsion you hadn't remembered because you had not been looking for the telltale signs.

Your eyes searched the room briefly before you decided on discarding your heavy cloak, pulling it over your head as his next exhale came out shaky and uneven. He blinked once, eyelids drooping, fluttering for a moment, but did not show a sign of questioning you in the slightest. He just followed you with those impossibly dark eyes, sharp like he might bite your face clean off at any minute.

When you successfully unraveled yourself from the knit, you took a large step toward him, one he evidently tried to back away from as his entire body did a grandiose shake. The purple restraints are only held by his arms and legs, like snakes they constrict closer and closer, preventing his back from going completely rigid.

Carefully you shifted yourself down in front of him, on your knees, so your face is aligned with his. His expression reads of horror, jaw clenching, neck making a painful vein appear, his only outlet of aggression. He is too tightly wound, too closely under these restraints that you doubt there was a chance he could take a swing.

He grumbles something under his breath, a curse or something, looking away from your face and that's when you start.

Bucky jerks violently at the first touch but doesn't pull away when you open up the soft bundle and cover him with it. He doesn't relax, he just stares and bares his teeth again as you smooth the fabric over every inch of body.

When you reach his neck to pull the front over his shoulders and part of his chest, he glares daggers.

You say nothing about the goosebumps that prick at his flesh, brushing your fingers down his collarbone. His partially exposed chest was bare, his clothing dangling off in a jagged tear, riddled with his own cuts and scrapes and burns and nicks.

After staring at the flesh that doesn't frost anymore due to the fabric, he blinks his long lashes up at you. He repeats you softly, slurring the syllables into one another.

"Soldier. "

Biting the inside of your cheek, you pulled away, nodding to him. "...yes. "

"Soldier...not a tool. "

Ah, a memory.

Bucky blinked around with his heavy lids, turning his head to look away from you and take in the small space of the cabin.

"Yes. “

This seemed to be all the exchange he wanted to have with you, for as soon as the words left his lips his head fell down and he closed his eyes. He was still panting, breaths even slower, but less ragged. He was giving up his fight. And losing whatever energy he had left.

"Steve will be very pleased. “

When he opened his eyes, so heavy like those of a drowned man, the blue looked at you a different way. Distant, yet seeping into your very skin.

He was a mess and needed a bath and fresh clothes. Blood painted the surface of his pants, browned from exposure, scraped and damaged. His hair was nearly a matted pile with flakes of what you imagined was old ice crystals and debris littering the strands.

A hand, metal and sturdy with rivets that shone bright against the chipped paint beneath the arm, reached up. You tensed, expecting an attack, a jarring tug at your throat as his arm fizzled against the bonds and extended far enough to grace your close proximity with just the edges of his fingertips.

Instead, your eyes flickered to where his touch didn't quite touch and it became apparent that there was a spark energy there that seemingly only you and he could feel. The way his eyelids flutter—he either feels that charge or he can feel your heartbeat from the heat.

With a scowl he jerked back his hand as if it burned and eyed his own limbs with a confused hatred. A whimper escaped past his lips, an animal sound, something that you've never even registered an animal making except an angry crow.

Before he could fall too far into the emotion you cupped your larger hand over his smaller, flesh one, and coaxed it forward so that his rough digits ran against the softer expanse of your skin. He locked eyes with you, fierce again as you guided his fingers to the pulse in your wrist.

"Do you remember Steve?"

In the moments he did not respond you regarded how strange this action you took was, and then, you considered what it would feel like to feel the life in a human. You began to bring your index and thumb to his neck to test the theory, but he flinched backwards, not letting you near.

"Do you recall when he rescued you, and all those people you'd killed when you shot at me?"

Another inhale.

"Shot..."

From the tension growing in your jaw and the way his brows started to shift and wiggle you know that in some part he did remember. There was such hate brewing in the deep of the winter of his eyes that you thought it could rival yours and perhaps not even the raging storm outside could surpass.

"That is why we are here. " You placed your hands on either side of your thigh, giving him an equally intense look. "Steve would tear down the ends of the Earth if it meant saving you. "

You could see his face break, a micro-expression barely there but noticeable. If he wasn't consciously trying to hide, if he had any more energy than what he contained, he would've shown more of a reaction.

"Do you know who I am?"

Bucky began to sweat at your lowered voice. The tension radiated through his skin and in the way his mouth tensed, but nothing else was given away.

Pursing your lips, you put your hand on his again, once more bringing it to you until you felt the energy. Steve had told you about the warmth radiating off of Bucky before the war, but it felt much different than what you'd expect, warm in his pulsating touch in a way that made your skin crawl.

You realized the first time around how ridiculous this act must look, yet you pushed his fingers down again, against your pulse.

"...beat. " He did not look at you when he spoke, only staring hard into his tarnished fingers. "Heart. Heartbeat. "

You turned his hand in yours and flattened his palm out on your chest, the center of his hand atop your heart, his fingers stretching over the expanse of your clothing. You began to hum deeply, focusing your breathing until the room fell silent for several seconds, save the occasional gust of wind.

"Steve told me that he thinks you and I will get along. “

Bucky stared dead on into the center of your face, a long look that's almost dreamy when his eyes begin to move and the skin over them soften, twitching when you blink and he registers the movement of your irises.

"You both are quite extraordinary. “ You murmur, sliding a hand over his shoulder and nudging him gently. "Bucky, " you say his name slowly, testing the waters with the human as you stare at his form. "forgive me for the pity but, you are not a toy. “

His shoulders drop a little, making his body fall slack, exhausted from whatever fighting he was doing on the inside, defensively protecting him from anything your presence might unexpectedly cause. He was so twitchy and it probably was that his body didn't have time to rest.

"Not a tool. "

That voice; low and jagged, that's a voice that's just pure gravel mixed with sandpaper. It just, oozes distrust and fatigue.

He's quiet for the rest of the minutes, still glancing up to you from time to time, but lets your comfort swallow him in, his breaths having since then calmed. He's stopped his trembling, as if in your company was a protection against the bite of cold.

And his hand still holds firm against your chest, feeling the rapid pace of your heart, your unnatural heartbeat, now seeming rather steady to him.

Bucky opens his mouth and it appears that the words are on the tip of his tongue, like a sponge taking up water, soaked in the ways of speaking but needing just a little push to release.

"You feel...different. "

You glance down at his hand, his knuckles covered in dust from the ground outside, caked thick around the scars and small holes torn into his flesh, hair sticking out in tufts at the junctures of his fingers. You are hesitant to shake his hand from your body, but it has become heavy and hot like a stone.

Your other hand raises up to close over his as you contemplate what exactly he meant, if he was regarding your alien heart, the tubes and arteries not functioning in the same ways his did, or something else. Something described in history as fate. But it was not your primary focus as you gently pull his hand from your sternum, lowering his arm down onto the mattress of his lap.

"You've no reason to fight me or harm me, Bucky. "

His jaw drops slightly, you hear an airy sound slip free before he frowns.

"Just you, Bucky. No soldier. "

There, he seems to register the repetition, his body visibly relaxing. It seemed you were talking him through and settling him down. His mind would not wander to the soldier tonight, nor would he struggle.

No response; you would make him one soon enough but for now you stayed with his hand in yours, keeping him there. If he really wanted to, he could maneuver himself away, but he didn't.

[starksbabie]

Button

Massage Therapist!Steve Rogers x Reader - Smut Drabble

A smutty little drabble about 6'4" massage therapist Steve Rogers. I originally sent it to a friend's ask box, but I'd like to have posted on my master list as well. (350 Words) Warnings: Smut, inappropriate massage therapist, MDNI 18+ @babyjakes this is for you

You walk into his massage studio and the last thing you’re expecting is this 6’4” beefcake of a man. He smiles at you and takes you back to his room and all you can think about is how this is going to be the longest hour of your life. His hands are massive. So when you lay on his table and he starts to run his oiled hands over your body it feels like he’s everywhere.

As his hands move lower down your back it becomes harder and harder to hold in your soft breathy moans. But Steve’s a professional so he pays it no mind, at least outwardly. Internally all Steve wants is to hear you make more of those sweet sounds. So he digs a little deeper… his hands sliding a little lower. And a smirk crosses his lips as he sees you rub your thighs together under the blankets.

Steve re-covers your back and uncovers your leg. At first, he’s just working your calf, but then his hands are running up the back of your thigh his fingers running teasingly up your inner thigh getting close to where you desperately need him before pulling away to knead the muscles. The next time he works his way up your thigh you let out a breathy whimper and Steve’s cock begins to swell. Just as you think he’s going to pull away again he dips his fingertips under the sheet, gently caressing your soft folds.

You feel like you’re going to combust letting out another series of soft moans and whimpers as Steve’s skillful fingers find your clit and trace circles over it. For the first time since the beginning of the session, he speaks.

“Good girl… you want my fingers Button?” He rasps his tone much lower and more gravelly than when he first greeted you.

You nod and as soon as you do you have to bite your lip to hold in the moan as you feel two of his massive fingers splitting you open…

[worksby-d]

hehe a prompt: going mall (ahem b&bw 😌) shopping with steve, andy, or ari 🥰🫶🏻

fuck it, let's talk about all three 🤭 they would LOVE bath & body works i just KNOW it i’d force them to love it 🔪

thanks for a fun lil idea, brandy!!

Picking another body spray off the display you’re working your way around, you take a quick sniff of it, but you need the full effect. 

“Give me your arm,” you tell Steve without looking at him, just holding out your hand for his.

He’s beside you pretending to look around. He knows he can’t go far since he’s holding the basket that you handed to him as soon as it started to get the tiniest bit heavy with everything you’re picking up.

He knew the nudge you give him was coming. It’s only the hundredth time you’ve done it since coming into the store. When you ran out of space on your own arms, you had to start spraying fragrances and putting dots of lotion on him instead. 

“I don’t think there’s anywhere left for you to put anything,” he chuckles. “You’re gonna start mixing scents, sweetheart.” 

“What are you talking about, there’s a lot of surface area on these bad boys,” you tease, patting his large bicep. “Don’t you worry.”

He wants to roll his eyes, but he can’t. He can’t do anything other than be a sap and press a kiss to your forehead as you lean to smell the spray you spritz on his upper arm.

Bonus: Steve’s fave scent is Dream Bright 💎

“Ugh,” you groan, smelling another candle. “I don’t need this. Tell me I shouldn’t get this.”

You don’t have to ask him twice. If he had it his way, you definitely wouldn’t be looking at candles right now considering the shelf full of them you have at home. 

The words leave his mouth instantly. “Don’t get it.”

“Okay,” you sigh, catching a glimpse of his unamused look.

But your actions contradict your words. You set the candle in the basket he’s holding. 

He scoffs feeling the added weight, dramatically dropping his arm as if that made it too heavy suddenly. 

“You just said you don’t need it,” he chuckles, trying his hardest to suppress his smile. 

“Look how pretty though,” you pout, picking it back up to show off the decorated jar. “And it smells so good.” 

He has no choice but to take a whiff of it as you hold it up to his nose. 

“Okay, okay, it smells good.” He can’t hide his smile anymore as he gently pushes your arm away and gives in. “Get it then.” 

You gasp putting it back in the basket and shake your head, tsking at him. “Always an enabler, Andrew.”

Bonus: Andy’s fave candle scent is Pistachio & Toasted Vanilla 🤎

“Smell this.” He steps behind you and puts a hand over your eyes before holding a candle up to your nose. 

You jump, reaching behind you to swat at his leg, playfully hitting him for startling you. “Ari!”

He chuckles, ignoring your scolding tone. “Do you like it?” 

“I guess,” you laugh, bringing your hand up to pull his away from your eyes. 

He moves so you can see him. “I wonder if they’re safe for–”

You don’t let him finish his question, cutting him off with a stern look. “They’re not.”

His mouth drops open in faux offense. “How’d you know what I was gonna ask?” 

“Because you have a one-track mind,” you scoff, grabbing the candle from him. 

“Hm,” he pouts, giving it up easily once he knows he can’t use it for what he wants anyway. “What’s the point if they can’t be used in bed?” 

“Normal people use candles to make their homes smell good, you know that right?” 

“Well,” he rolls his eyes. “That’s no fun.”

Bonus: Ari’s fave scent is Cozy Vanilla Bourbon 🥃

Tag list: @patzammit @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @astheskycries @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @la-cey @turtoix @harrysthiccthighss @tvckerlance @rocketrhap3000 @mrspeacem1nusone @murdcox @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @white-wolf1940 @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersbarber @dilfbarber @livstilinski @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @gitasor @chaeycunty @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403 @raelorns21 @mrsgweasley @pandaxnienke @brandycranby @cutedisneygrl

[deniable-masterpiece]

need some soldier boy x reader x captain america asks…

or ngl any j squared x reader crossover

[aikaterini-drag]

Bucky Barnes

Series (explicit 💦):

Fading Scars • Bucky Barnes gets re-captured by Hydra. He is sent on a mission to abduct a woman named Grace. But he will soon find out that she is all he could ever ask for; his salvation, his whole world.

Super Soldier, Super Dad • For Sergeant Bucky Barnes, life had been filled with nothing but missions and uncertainty. But everything changed when he met his Jane. She walked into his world and cast away the nightmares. She made him smile, made him love again, and gave him life’s most surprising gift— their child.

Alpha Bucky Barnes (explicit 💦)

Craving • Your Alpha returns from his most recent mission, he has missed you and he craves for the scent and feel of your body.

Princess and the King • Urged by a bout of jealousy, your Russian Alpha fucks you from behind.

ONE-SHOTS (No smut ✨)

Unspoken Desires • Bucky hesitates to open up to you, fearing to tell you how much he admires and wants you (takes place during tfatws, shy Bucky)

First Date • Your first date with Bucky (takes place during tfatws, kisses, boyfriend Bucky, fluff)

Into the Heart ��� How it would feel to be intimate with Bucky Barnes (established relationship, fluff)

Wrapped in affection • Snuggling in bed with Sergeant Barnes (fluff, kisses)

All-consuming Love • Bucky loves you more than anything in the world (implied smut, fluff, intimacy)

The Dance of Raindrops • Caught in a sudden downpour couldn’t be any sweeter (comfort, fluff, intimate kisses)

Fragile Embrace • Bucky is afraid to hug you tightly because of the serum in his system (implied smut, fluff, intimacy)

Caring Boyfriend • Bucky has never before seen you get sick or feel unwell, and now he's in overprotective mode (caring overprotective Bucky, fluff)

Smiles and Smooches • You get drunk and demand kisses and hugs from your boyfriend. He is more than happy to please you. (emotional security, fluff, kisses)

ONE-SHOTS (explicit 💦)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes × Fem!reader (no mention of y/n)

Whispers of Rapture • Bucky wakes up from a nightmare and longs for the warmth of your skin against his (needy Bucky, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, cockwarming)

Special Content (explicit 💦)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes × Fem!reader (no mention of y/n)

Night of Sensual Delights (Halloween Special) • You plan a sweet and romantic Halloween night with but your boyfriend has other ideas for enjoying his candy (oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, cockwarming)

**DO NOT STEAL, REPLICATE, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK.**

I strictly FORBID any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent. This includes reposting my stories on other websites, platforms, etc.

[harbours-wrecks]

જ⁀➴ february's list of amazing works by wonderful people, Marvel edition!

Steve Rogers:

i. "This Could Be A Dream" @thereoncewasagirlnamedjane ii. "Moonlit Silver" @hawthorne-bias iii. "Dusty Pink" @hawthorne-bias iv. "Ivory Mist" @hawthorne-bias

Doctor Strange:

i. "Midnight Miseries, Muttered Comforts" @starks-hero ii. "Dream A Little, Dream of Me @starks-hero iii. Stark Revelations (part two to the above) @starks-hero

[shybluebirdninja]

Sleep Striker

Summary: You discover that Bucky sleepwalks—and it’s not the calm, peaceful kind of sleepwalking. You wake up to find him in full-on combat mode with the couch.

Pairing            : Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Note                : fluff

The night was supposed to be peaceful. You’d spent the entire evening watching Netflix with Bucky, eating popcorn, and joking around like any normal couple. By the time you both hit the sack, you were expecting nothing but a quiet night’s sleep, maybe punctuated by Bucky’s usual snores.

But no.

Around 2 AM, you woke up to the sound of something crashing in the living room. Your heart leapt into your throat, thinking for a second that maybe someone had broken in. Instinctively, you reached for the baseball bat you kept beside the bed (Bucky insisted on keeping a knife there, but you’d settled on a less dramatic weapon). Slowly, you tiptoed toward the door, already mentally preparing yourself for some horror-movie showdown with a burglar.

But what you found was so much worse.

There, in the dim glow of the living room lamp, was Bucky Barnes—your sweet, grumpy, 100-year-old boyfriend��throwing punches at thin air like he was in the middle of a battle.

“What the hell…” you whispered, blinking in disbelief.

Bucky, still completely asleep, ducked and weaved as if he were dodging invisible enemies, his fists flying through the air with lethal precision. His face was set in that intense, focused expression he wore when he was in full-on Winter Soldier mode, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of fear and… laughter? This was ridiculous. Your boyfriend was sleep-fighting in the living room.

You set the bat down carefully, still trying to process the situation, when Bucky suddenly spun around and landed a full-force punch on the couch.

The couch.

It made a sad thud as the cushions absorbed the blow, but Bucky didn’t stop. He kicked out at the coffee table next, sending it skidding a few inches across the floor.

“Bucky!” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low but urgent. “Hey, babe, wake up!”

He didn’t hear you. Instead, he crouched low, as if he were avoiding gunfire, and rolled behind the armchair, his metal arm glinting faintly in the darkness. You bit your lip, trying so hard not to laugh, but it was impossible. This was like watching an overgrown toddler reenact an action movie in his sleep.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “how the hell do I handle this?”

You’d heard about sleepwalkers before, and you were pretty sure you weren’t supposed to wake them up. But you couldn’t just let Bucky wage war against your furniture all night. The man had already drop-kicked the coffee table, and at this rate, he’d be suplexing the bookshelf by sunrise.

You crept a little closer, careful not to startle him. “Bucky, babe, it’s just me. You’re, uh, safe. There’s no Hydra agents in the apartment, I promise.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he launched himself toward the couch again, this time pulling off a move that looked like it came straight out of a Captain America fight scene. He tackled the poor couch as if it had personally offended him, his arms wrapping around the back cushions in a chokehold.

“Bucky, stop! The couch isn’t the enemy!” you half-whispered, half-yelled, trying to stifle your laughter. “Oh my god, you’re gonna kill the couch…”

He grunted, still deep in his dream, and threw a wild punch that just barely missed the coffee table. You winced at the near miss. That could’ve been bad. Like, broken furniture and a pissed-off Bucky kind of bad.

At this point, you realized you had to do something before your apartment looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Slowly, cautiously, you approached Bucky like you were approaching a wild animal—because, let’s be real, that’s kind of what he was right now.

“Bucky…” you said softly, reaching out a hand. “Come back to bed, babe. You don’t have to fight the couch anymore. You won. It’s dead.”

He hesitated for a moment, his muscles twitching like he was on the verge of launching another attack. But instead of another round of couch-punching, he slowly stood up, blinking groggily as if he was coming out of a fog.

You let out a breath of relief. “Thank God.”

But your relief was short-lived. Because as soon as Bucky turned around, he spotted the kitchen chairs—lined up perfectly in a row by the table—and apparently, in his half-asleep mind, they were the next Hydra targets.

“No,” you groaned, as Bucky lunged toward the chairs. “Not the chairs! I like those chairs!”

He grabbed one, flipping it over like it was an enemy combatant, and before you could stop him, he had another chair in a headlock. You stood there, watching in sheer disbelief as Bucky Barnes—the most feared assassin in the world—battled a set of IKEA furniture like it was the final boss fight of his life.

“Bucky, babe, please!” you shouted, a mix of panic and laughter bubbling out. “I can’t explain this to the landlord!”

Finally, in a last-ditch effort, you ran over and grabbed his arm—his metal arm, because that seemed like the safer bet. “Bucky, it’s me! You’re sleepwalking!”

At first, he didn’t respond. His eyes were still glazed over, lost in whatever dream battlefield he was trapped in. But then, slowly, he blinked. His metal arm relaxed under your grip, and he looked down at you, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“...What the hell?” he muttered, blinking again.

You let out the biggest sigh of relief. “Oh my god, thank you. I thought you were gonna destroy the whole apartment.”

Bucky glanced around, still looking dazed. “What… what happened?”

“You, uh… kinda went to war with the furniture,” you said, biting your lip to keep from laughing again. “You were sleepwalking.”

His eyes widened. “I did what?”

“You attacked the couch. And the coffee table. And, um, the chairs,” you explained, gesturing to the wreckage around the living room. “It was… a lot.”

Bucky groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Shit. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no,” you reassured him quickly. “I’m fine. But the couch… not so much.”

He looked over at the couch, which was now sagging slightly from the multiple punches it had taken. “Damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Guess I really went at it, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Babe, you suplexed the couch. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Bucky winced. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, grinning up at him. “It was kind of… impressive, honestly. I mean, you took out an entire living room while asleep. That’s some next-level stuff.”

He gave you a sheepish look, still clearly embarrassed. “I’ll fix it in the morning.”

“You better,” you teased. “But for now, can we please go back to bed before you decide to fight the fridge or something?”

Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll… I’ll stay away from the appliances.”

You wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him back toward the bedroom. “Good idea, soldier. Let’s just stick to sleeping from now on.”

As you both crawled back into bed, you couldn’t help but steal one last glance at the wrecked living room, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Bucky?” you whispered, snuggling up next to him.

“Yeah?”

“If you ever get the urge to fight the couch again, maybe, like, wake me up first?”

He groaned, pulling the covers over his head. “Don’t remind me.”

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Goodnight, Super Soldier Sleepwalker.”

“Goodnight,” he muttered, already halfway back to sleep.

But this time, thankfully, without the couch-wrestling.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

can we get a fic where r is a nurse or med student and she just had a terrible terrible day at work and steve just comforts her? ly <3

i know nothing about the medical world so forgive me. kinda basing this from a breakdown i had after orientation for my job then texting a friend for some help.

masterlist

silence. peace and quiet after a twenty-four hour on call shift. no beeping monitors, no patients getting angry with you, no messes to clean up; just you sitting in your car letting your brain melt. and then the tears started to sting, face pinching to withhold yourself but letting the floodgates free. your breathing was labored and your head was getting fuzzy, you hoped no one was a witness to your breakdown.

fingers death gripping onto your leather steering wheel, head falling forward and almost hitting your horn. you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to take deep slow breaths, needing to steady yourself before making the thirty minute drive back to your apartment where steve was waiting for you.

steve. with his name popping into your head you reached into your bag, pulling your phone and flipping it open then pressing one to speed dial the landline. the dial tone rang twice and then you heard his voice.

“harrington residence.” just those two words from your husband lifted your sorrows for a moment, allowing you to calmly speak into the receiver. “hi honey.” a sigh of relief before a wet hiccup followed.

you could hear the concern when steve asked, “hey, you off? need me to pick you up?” already knowing you had your car with you, but also knowing you would be exhausted to drive.

you shook your head even though it wasn’t seen, “no, no. just… just wanted to see if you needed anything?” closing your eyes as the welling tears continued. “want something for lunch? was gonna stop by-“

“it’s fine, honey. i already cooked something for you. just get home safe. i love you.” and he didn’t hang up right away, waiting for you to respond back. a croaked “i love you,” then quick to press the end call button. you took deep calming breaths, five in five out, before starting the engine and cutting the radio off.

you kept to the speed limit, sometimes going three over or even five under causing people to honk and speed past you. you didn’t have the energy to care about their pissed stares, just counting the stop lights until you hit your block, rolling into the complex then pulling into your parking spot.

your bones felt like liquid as you gathered your bags and drinks, locking your car then heading up the one flight of stairs. a quick left then past three doors and you stood outside yours, number 736, a lovely floral reef circled the peep hole.

with a heavy hand you slid your key into the lock, turned the knob and was greeted to the warm lighting and laugh track blaring from the tv. the lingering smell of mac and cheese with some baked chicken and steamed veggies caused your stomach to gargle.

“hey pretty.” steve’s smooth voice slid into the hallway with you, his hands reaching out to take your load off your shoulders.

he made sure to keep your belonging organized and hang your coat on the rack. he knelt to the floor and helped tug your sneakers off your aching feet before ushering your further into the apartment to the couch.

reruns of your favorite sitcom light the room as steve leaned in to press a tender kiss on your left temple, eyes closing in contentment. “i’ll be back with our food.”

steve was gone less than five minutes and you could feel your eyes growing heavy as each second passed, head lulling to rest on the back of your couch. you smiled and chuckled low at a joke you already knew, but it still tickled you pink.

“kept it in the oven to stay warm. hope it taste good, i followed the recipe for the mac and chicken, but you know me.” steve set the two plates on the small table covering your feet. “how’s my girl doing?”

he rested a palm to your left thigh and rubbed over your scrubs comfortably. you took a deep inhale before sighing out, “draining.” the one word sufficient in summarizing everything.

steve hummed, “sorry. but luckily you’re taking the next two days off. how about we just rot in bed for one day and then be slightly adults the next day. how’s that sound?” his browns eyes darkened and shaded with the flickering light.

leaning your head onto his right shoulder and fighting sleep you yawned out, “sounds perfect.” the laugh track and commercials becoming your white noise.

[simmerandwrite]

finally writing the threesome fic in the Sink Into Me universe - essentially just for me but if anyone out there is interested???

[smolvenger]

i know u have been feeling stressed and hopefully this might make u feel better but for a request steve rogers x reader and theyre on their honeymoon

Hi there nonny!!!

Awww, I love that! Steve is the sweetest cinnamon roll so of course we have to write it!!!! This is so sweet, I have to!!! I hope you like it and it's accurate enough, it's my first time writing for him!

No warnings, just tooth rotting fluff!

Honeymooning with America's Ass, Steve Rogers, would include...

Poor boy has never flown before so you have to arrange the details. Once you are packed up and ready to go, he is fascinated by a modern airport. You have to hold his hand so he doesn't get lose because he likes looking in all the shops and different restaurants!

You finally get in and he gets nervous when the plane takes off so you laugh and hug him. You go "darling...you fought Red Skull, but a plane going up makes you scared?!" teasingly and kiss his cheek.

It's a long flight so you show him how to watch movies and play games on the little device thingies that are on airplens and he stays awake the whole time playing on it.

So then you guys...spend the honeymoon in ITALY!!!!

You go around to see such tall, ancient buildings. Far more ancient than Mr. Brooklyn has ever dreamt. At one point, the tour guide calls this building young since it was built in 1673 and he just stares dumbfounded!

But Steve would pick up Italian quickly. He likes calling you Italian terms of endearment like "mia/o carino/a" or "mia/o angelo/a" to make you smile.

Of course, he has to start the day by cuddling you! Though he is too excited to get up and can only take so much cuddling- like an excited puppy!

He remembers enjoying Italian places in Brooklyn when his mom and he would go to celebrate something. So he loves trying Italian cuisine. Telling you stories about his mother- and about how much she would have loved you.

He always holds your gelato like a gentleman <3 As tempted as he is, he never takes a bite of yours, he wants his new spouse to enjoy them.

However, at one point, a pickpocket creeps by you and grabs your wallet. You let out a shout and gasp as he breaks into a run.

Boy did that asshole make a mistake considering your supersoldier hubby.

Steve just fucking BOOKS IT. The pickpocket turns around and gasps. He tries to run, but Steve gets closer to him in a few steps and decks the guy until he falls easily, kicking him until he's flying like a soccer ball through the air. He then grabs your wallet throws the pickpocket to the cobbled ground and returns your wallet.

You go to all sorts of incredible art museums. Steve himself loves to doodle and when you take sitting breaks, he tries to make little copies of them. You put his hand gently over his and lean into his cheek as he does, holding his free hand.

Of course, since a lot of Italian people tend to have darker hair, they make huge eyes at his blonde locks. Some even try to flirt with him, but he quickly pushes them aside to give you a hug or flash them the new wedding band, assuring you with small kisses. There are smiles and looks of jealousy- the incredibly handsome blonde man is your husband and yours alone, as you are his.

He talks to and befriends everyone. Old ladies in cathedrals praying and kissing their crucifix necklaces. Children running around streets and jumping sunburnt into the sea. Fellow tourists in wide hats and billowy shirts. Chefs of mom-and-pop shops with rosy cheeks and loud, boisterous voices and stories in every dish.

It only makes you love him more.

[itzsephig5]

2.1 (B Me)

My Masterlist

This story on Wattpad

Intro - Age of Ultron 1.0 1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 1.6 1.7 1.8 1.9 1.10 1.11 1.12 Intro - Civil War 2.2 2.3 2.3.5 2.4 2.5 2.6 2.7 2.8 Intro - B Me 3.0 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 3.6 3.7 3.8 3.9 3.10 3.11 3.12 Updated Character Info 3.13 3.14 3.15 3.16 3.17 3.18 3.19 3.20 Final Character Info

Important info for chapter:

Words in Slovak:

miláčik - darling

Words in Russian:

любовь - love

Y/n's POV:

I sat next to Wanda as I stirred some sugar into my coffee. "All right. What do you see?" I hear Steve's voice in my ear. I took a sip of my coffee before grimacing at the taste. I needed to add more creamer. "Standard beat cops. Small station." Wanda says. "Quiet street." I added. "It's a good target." I stirred my coffee again before taking a sip. Finally, it tasted right. I see Wanda looks at me and shake her head with a smile on her face. "There's an ATM on the south corner, which means?" Steve asked. "Cameras." Wanda answers before taking a sip of her tea. I never understood how someone could prefer tea over coffee. "Both cross streets are one-way." Steve tells us. I looked over my shoulder and saw Natasha sitting in the cafe at one of the tables. "So compromised escape routes." Wanda says in realization. I turned to face back forward. I understood why Steve was asking all these questions, but it just seemed like a lot. "Just get to the point Cap." I grumbled. I hear Wanda laugh slightly before trying to cover it up. I just rolled my eyes. "Okay lovebirds." I hear Natasha say. "It means our guy doesn't care about being seen." Steve finally says. I looked up at the TV in the cafe to see that there was a photo of who people were calling 'Crossbones'. If I had to guess that was who we were looking for. Brock Rumlow. "You guys see that Range Rover halfway up the block?" Steve asked us. "Yeah, the red one? It's cute." Wanda answered. "What do you think miláčik?" She asked me. "I want that car. Nice color and all любовь." I added. "It's also bulletproof, which means private security, which means more guns. Which means more headaches for someone." Natasha says, trying to get the focus back on the mission. "And someone being us." I say while rubbing my forehead. "You guys realize that I can move things with my mind, right? So can Y/n." Wanda mentions. "Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature." Natasha reminds Wanda. "Anybody ever tell you that you're a little paranoid?" I hear Sam speak up. I honestly had forgotten that he was here with us. I laughed at his comment. "Not to my face. Why? Did you hear something?" She responded. "I think you might be a bit paranoid Nat; I'm not going to lie." I added on in a teasing tone. "Eyes on the target folks." Steve said before I cut him off. "Folks is crazy. Your age is showing." I made a comment. I feel Wanda push me slightly, but I could see she was laughing too. "Y/n please." I hear Steve sigh. "This is the best lead we've had on Rumlow in six months. I don't want to lose him." He added. "If he sees us coming that won't be a problem. He kind of hates us." Sam tells us over the comms. I took another sip from my coffee. "Sam, you see that garbage truck? Tag it." Steve says. I knew that he and Sam were outside, so they were seeing things that Wanda, Natasha and I couldn't see. I knew that we were going to have to get up soon. "That truck's loaded for max weight. And the driver is armed." Sam says seriously after a moment. "It's a battering ram." Natasha mentions. "Shit." I mentioned. "Go now!" Steve calls out.

I quickly stood up and pulled Wanda up with me. "What?" She says. "He's not hitting the police." Steve says. I pulled Wanda over to the infectious disease institute. "Body armor, AR-15s. I make seven hostiles." Steve said over comms. "I make five." Sam says. "Y/n!" Wanda calls before lifting the guy up. She throws him at me before I throw him into the ground. "Four." I called out. "Rumlow's on the third floor." Sam tells Steve. "Wanda, Y/n. Just like we practiced." Steve tells us. "What about the gas in the building?" Wanda asked. "Get it out." Steve says. I just took a deep breath as Wanda and I lifted Steve up to the building with our powers before getting the gas out of the building and letting it filter through the air. I started to immediately feel dread. "Damn it!" I cursed, knowing exactly what that meant. Something bad was about to happen, and I wasn't sure what. "Y/n come on! We need to check on Steve." Wanda says to me, breaking me out of the daze I was in. We both ran over to see Rumlow activate his bomb vest. I without thinking use my powers to try to contain the blast. My orange wisps suddenly blended in with red as I see Wanda was trying to help me. As Rumlow was screaming in pain, we lifted him into the air. Both of us lost control and sent him into a building which in turn exploded. I looked over at Wanda in shock and fear. "Did we...?" I try to say. She nodded her head. "Oh my." Steve starts before shaking his head. I hid my face in Wanda's shoulder as I started to cry. I felt her wrap her arms around me, equally as upset. "Sam. We need fire and rescue on the south side of the building. We got to get up there."

[lokis-army-77]

For eveyone who wanted a second part to "Live from Hawkins" .... I'm halfway done with it.