lizamango

[lizamango]

Finding You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 12/?

Summary: You’ve been one of SHIELD’s top spies for years but what happens when the organisation you’ve put your trust in crumbles and Captain America gives you a mission to help him find his best friend? The last thing you expected to happen was to fall in love with your assignment and become best friends with a witch.

series tags: @buckylokisimp​​, @white-wolf-buckaroo​​, @austynparksandpizza, @markandlexies,  @yaszx​, @justsomecreaturewandering​

All marvel tags: @whoreforbuckybarness @badlandsbrunette​ @xxlovingfandomsxx​  @mattmurdockswh0r3 @bunnyweasley23​ @galacticstxrdust​

Add yourself to my taglist!

Masterlist

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9 ~ Chapter 10 ~ Chapter 11 ~

Warnings: none

Chapter Summary: Avengers compound slice of life, Y/N, Wanda and Vision go shopping

Chapter 12: You Have a Kind Heart

“What’s your favourite weapon to use?” Sam asks while we take a break from training. He’s keen to learn and I find it admirable.

“A gun is the boring choice, a bow and arrow well that’s Clint’s forte, a shield is too big and bulky for me; it’s not my style but this…” I raise my arm to reveal my whip. “It’s elegant, unassuming. At first glance, it looks like jewellery, it’s beautiful. But when I choose, it can do some damage.”

“It’s made of vibranium?” Sam asks.

I chuckle. “I wish. Boring old, earthly tungsten.”

“Well, that is the strongest metal from Earth so that’s still pretty impressive.”

“Back when I’d only fight against earthly beings it was enough, now… not so much.”

Sam nods. “I’m guessing you don’t wanna be doing this forever?”

I shrug. “I’ve always been an Agent of SHIELD. I grew up knowing that’s what I had to be. When SHIELD fell, Cap gave me a mission. Once that mission is over… I have no idea what I’ll do. I can’t be an Avenger, Sam. It’s not the life I want.”

“What do you want?”

I ponder for a moment and Clint catches my eye. Nat’s loading up the quinjet; she’ll be taking him to his family now that Dr Cho gave him the all-clear.

“Quiet,” I answer. “Peace and quiet.”

“And if it’s not what you expect?”

“At least I’ll know I have choices. That not everything is about finishing a mission.”

“Your weapon of choice is insight into how you approach battle. Natasha’s are guns; cold calculating, accurate. A consequence of her time in the KGB. Steve has a shield, he’s the protector, the defender of what is right, what is good. Thor’s is a hammer, a tool of strength, brute force and power. Yours is subtle, you know how to bring someone or something down from the inside, under guises,” Sam observes.

“I like to hide,” I state. Sam nods. “I was a SHIELD legacy, my path was drawn up for me. I had to excel, there was no room for disappointment. But I had to have the ability to back it all up. What makes her so special? I had to prove to them it wasn’t just because I was born into it.”

“So you graduate from two of SHIELD’s Academies and become the agent your parents could be proud of,” Sam finishes.

“I suppose… I never really got to be myself.” I sigh. “Are you ever not on duty, counsellor?”

Sam chuckles. “I guess not.” He reaches his hand out. I take it. “Think we should call it a day with training.”

I agree. “You should hit up Nat when she gets back, I’m sure she has a lot of self-discovery to do, too.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure she’d love that,” Sam responds, heavy with sarcasm.

I finish up my shower and change into comfortable shorts and a sweater when FRIDAY announces someone at the gate. It’s a delivery man. “Let them through please, FRIDAY,” I answer as I approach the entrance to meet him.

“I got a delivery for Y/N L/N,” the older man says, holding a box.

I smile. “That’s me, thank you!”

“You take care, sweetheart,” says the friendly man.

He’s so adorable I love him. I take the box into the foyer and rip off the tape and smile. Just what I expected. I carry the box over to my “wing”, at least that’s what Tony refers to the locations of our rooms.

I knock on Wanda’s door, not without a little struggle as I balance the box.

She opens the door and smiles.

“You weren’t having a moment with Vision were you?” I tease. The mood feels a tiny bit lighter and I think he really helps with that.

“No, he’s out with Tony. What’s in the box?” She opens the door fully, letting me in. I place the box on the desk.

“DVDs. And a DVD player because clearly Tony thought of everything but those.”

Wanda digs into the box, pulling out the collections.

“Sitcoms? Soaps? 90s teen dramas?”

I nod, proud of the selection I curated. “I thought you’d like it…”

Wanda lets a smile slip through her lips. “I do, thank you.”

I set up the DVD player to her TV. “Are you feeling like watching anything right now?”

She scans through her options and I can see the gears in her head turning. “I’ve always wanted to get through Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

I smile. “I loved those.” I put in the first disc and turn the lights down low, feeling like a kid at a slumber party.

Wanda pats the space next to her on the bed and I smile, sitting beside her. We fell asleep seven episodes and two popcorn bags in.

The sun shines through the windows, waking us. It’s a rare thing that I’m not woken up by Steve or Sam for a training session or a workout. Maybe I should sleep over at Wanda’s more. I stretch and yawn, wandering out of Wanda’s room and towards my bath room. I wash my face and brush my teeth. The compound is quiet but get a notification on my phone. It’s from Clint.

The ticket I owe you.

He didn’t forget… but I wish I could. I sigh. It was nice playing pretend for a while.

I see that Tony’s private chefs had prepared a spread of breakfast; eggs, bacon, suausages, pastries, cheeses and charcuterie, jams, honey and butter. Yum,

I load up my plate and sit at the table overlooking the fields, there’s a treeline in the distance. The compound used to be an old Stark Industries warehouse in Upstate New York. It’s nice to be surrounded by nature when I’m so used to brick buildings, skyscrapers and explosions. Maybe I could take up gardening when all of this is over… If it is ever over.

“Good morning,” Vision greets as he phases through the walls.

“Hey you, have some breakfast.”

“I’ve no need to consume food,” Vision answers.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it.” I stand up and make him a typical English breakfast plate. “The cradle made you a humanoid body, you should try the simple pleasures of being human.”

He takes a seat at the table. Vision cuts up the sausage, hashbrown and loads it up on his fork then dips it into his sunny side up egg. “Phenomenal.”

I smirk. “Told you.”

We eat in a comfortable silence. 

“I believe Miss Romanoff will be returning today.” Vision announces.

“And Tony?”

“He is with Ms Potts at their home in Malibu.”

Steve is with Sharon but that might not be common knowledge yet. I smile at the thought of him getting close to someone. Especially someone like her. “I’m going to be going away once Nat and Steve are back… I have a mission that’s long overdue.”

Vision nods. “Sergeant Barnes.”

He seems to know everything.

“Back when I was still just JARVIS you were accessing files on him at Avengers Tower,” he explains how he obtained his knowledge.

“I have to find him. Not just for Steve but for him. After everything he’s been through… it’s too awful to face alone. He thinks that he doesn’t have anyone.”

“You have a kind heart, Agent Y/N.”

“You know… I’m technically not an agent anymore,” I tease.

“I’ll believe that once you retire.”

“I feel bad leaving now…” I think to Wanda and I know Vision knows it too. At least they’ve gotten close. Closer than close, really.

“Don’t feel bad.” Vision and I look up to see Wanda at the entryway from our wing. “He needs your help.” It’s a comfort to hear her say that. To know that she doesn’t think I’m abandoning her.

She grabs an orange juice and puts a croissant and takes a pot of butter and jam with her, sitting on the table. We’re in identical tracksuits, curtesy of Stark because we’ve been too lazy to get some clothes of our own.

“We should go shopping,” I announce. It’s a genius idea, don’t know why we haven’t gone before, I think sarcastically.

Vision raises a brow. “Shopping?”

I nod. “You can create your own wardrobe but Wanda, Nat and I? We’re stuck with these issued track suits and I’ve had enough.” I look to Wanda, waiting.

She contemplates, then gives a nod.

“Great, after berakfast, we go. Maybe we can get some gelato while we’re there.”

I use one of Tony’s cars to drive us to the nearest shopping mall. I previously asked Tony for a Stark Industries-issued credit card because, well, I used to have a salary when I worked for SHIELD and now I have nothing but my savings, which wouldn’t stretch for long. He was very generous to give one, and by generous, I mean I used guilt tripping on him.

We start with the basics, tops and jeans, some cute skirts that are on sale and hoodies and jackets. I think to the weather in Bucharest, it won’t be cold but definitely not warm either. We even show Vision some samples of what outfits he should create for himself.

“We should try the gelato you spoke of,” Vision suggests as we walk past a gelateria, the flavours in huge metal containers with the labels in cursive. We all look at the options.

“Can I have a scoop of pistachio and a scoop of bacio in a cup?” I order. Wanda gets a raspberry sorbet in a cone, and Vision asks for stracciatella and fragola.

 We take a seat on the benches outside as the sun was shining and it felt nice.

“This is good,” Vision praises the ice cream.

Wanda nods in agreement, smiling wide. Then it’s like she regrets smiling as she takes it back. “I wish Pietro could’ve been here to try it.” She looks at her cone. “He would’ve ordered coconut,” she says fondly. “We had never been to the beach… he liked those flavours so he could pretend, like in the shows we would watch,” she smiles at the memory. 

We finish our gelato and decide to head home, tired but satisfied with what we came up with.

I drive to the compound and I notice tracks on the grounds, as if someone was dragged through it.

“What the hell?” I whisper. 

“No threats currently detected,” Vision announces, scanning the entire compound.

I pull up to the garage and see one of the doors blasted open. “Huh,” I frown, putting the car in park. We exit the vehicle and unload the bags. “Seems like someone was redecorating.”

Whatever the fight was about must not have been too serious as we enter the compound and see Sam in the living room, not in a panic.

“So, are we going to address the structural and landscape damage?” I ask Sam.

“Nope, it’s no big deal and Cap doesn’t need to know about it. I had it handled,” he answers unconvincingly.

I nod but let it go. Wanda and I share a look, and we head to our wing, separating the clothes we bought.

“I shall assess the damage and arrange repairs,” Vision says, bidding goodbye.

“I know the real reason you wanted to go shopping…” Wanda starts. She sits on her bed. “You’re leaving.”

I sigh, nodding. “I have to help Steve. I’d ask if you want to come but I think that’s too much for you right now. It’s not what you need and that’s okay.”

“Steve’s friend is lost. I was lost once, I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have people to help me find my way,” I know that she’s talking about how she was doubting herself when we were cornered in that convenience store with the Ultron sentries closing in on us. “I understand why you have to do this,” she gives me a gentle smile. Reassurance. 

I sit next to her on her bed and put my hand on hers.

“I never really had friends before. It was always just me and Pietro… I’m glad to have you as a friend now.”

It means a lot to me that she sees me this way. “Good friends don’t come along all that often… I’m glad to have you, too.” We sit there for a moment.

“I want to let you know,” Wanda starts. “I will be finishing Buffy the Vampire Slayer without you.”

I let out a laugh. “Rude but understandable,” I reply.

A shadow appears at the doorway and we see Steve stopping at the threshold and leaning with his arms crossed, looking very authoritative.

“You’re back!”

He smiles, fondly. “I heard laughter and just had to come see for myself.”

“You missed out on all the fun, we went shopping and got ice cream,” I recall the day, omitting whatever it is that Sam went through. Perhaps that will always be a mystery.

💜

Not crazy about this chapter, it could defo be longer and have more to it but I'm struggling and just wanna get to bucky now haha Pls comment, feedback is super appreciated and lets me know people are still reading lol

[lizamango]

THE EMPEROR'S FAVORITE

FULL MASTERLIST + DRABBLES & HCS!

pairing - emperor!mark grayson x reader

summary - you were supposed to form an alliance. instead you slept with him three days in and now you have no idea what’s happening.

content notice: 18+. smut starts early. reader grew up in an ancient sword worshipping honor cult and has no clue what a crush is. expect minor misunderstandings, post sex emotional turmoil, and sporadic background war crimes.

chapter 1 part 1 / part 2: you agreed to spar and now you’ve basically dry humped in front of the royal guard he flipped you. you flipped him. something flipped. definitely not your feelings. nope.

chapter 2 part 1 / part 2: so you slept with him. once. respectfully. it was a political alliance. with benefits. shut up.

chapter 3 part 1 / part 2 / part 3: you called it “a one-time thing” and then did it again immediately you would like to go back in time. or die. either works.

chapter 4 part 1 / part 2: he touched your back and now you’re in love maybe?? he said “you’re safe now.” what the fuck are you supposed to do with that.

chapter 5 part 1 / part 2: he tucked your hair behind your ear like he wasn’t balls deep yesterday you want to scream into a sword rack. you settle for a bath and a panic nap.

chapter 6: everyone knows. literally everyone. one of the guards winked at you. another said “congratulations.” you might die.

chapter 7: he called you “his” in front of your royal family, and now you’re vibrating out of your body you said “that’s just cultural.” no one believed you. especially not him.

chapter 8: you wore his cape once and now he’s feeding you fruit like you’re married he said “open.” you almost proposed.

chapter 9: you were supposed to leave. now you’re curled up in his bed talking about names for hypothetical children. it’s fine. everything is fine. you’ll just… stay a little longer.

DRABBLES

late night debrief, but it’s mostly making out you come to his room to discuss battle strategy. you leave wearing his cape.

you get injured and try to hide it. mark finds out. he does not take it well he’s the emperor of restraint. until it’s you bleeding.

requests open!

HEADCANONS

how you say “i love you” without actually saying it you fix his cape. he calls you first when terra gets sick. no one says anything. everyone knows.

things you do that make the him feral (and he thinks no one notices) that one costume. the wrist wrap thing. calling him “sir” in public. the sword. always the sword.

terra walks in on something she should not have seen. you both rethink your lives she just wanted juice. now you’re hiding in the hallway and mark is giving her an awkward lecture about knocking.

requests open!

[lizamango]

i rediscovered this, found that there were TWO NEW PARTS and now hasn’t been updated since 2023 please I beg for the next part 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 begging on my kneesssssss

Could I Be Yours (a Joel Miller fic) Part 3

Pairing - Joel x Married Female Reader 

Series Summary - You’ve been married for two years now to your long term man Marcus, but with your dwindling sex life and your marriage on the rocks, you came to an agreement. You're allowed to sleep with other men. The only rules? 1- You have to tell your husband about it. 2- No staying the night, you always leave after sex. And lastly, rule number 3, you can’t sleep with the same man more than once. These rules are in place to avoid feelings blooming, but what happens when you meet Joel, and end up breaking all of the rules? Will it break your marriage too? If faced with a choice between Joel Miller and your husband, who would you choose? 

Read part 1 and part 2 

Chapter summary - With your feelings for Joel making themselves known you try and make a decision regarding your marriage. 

Warnings - infidelity, smut, protected + unprotected piv, oral sex (fem receiving), tiny bit of angst, Joel being a menace, Joel being vulnerable, angry Marcus. 

Word Count - 7k+

a/n - Tysm for the continued love and support for this series! So so grateful

Your phone pings with a text notification exactly twenty four hours after you left Joel’s house, exactly twenty four hours after you ran away. You didn’t read it straight away, you couldn’t face what you imagined to be a rejection. So, you turned your phone over so the screen was out of view and busied yourself with a deep clean of the house, you changed bed sheets, cleaned the bathroom and the kitchen, hoovered and mopped the floors but you still saw his face when you blinked, his dark eyes engraved into your eyelids. You showered, washed your hair and aggressively cleaned your body, but you still felt Joel’s trail of lingering kisses burning your skin. Unable to uselessly distract yourself any longer, you picked up your phone and opened the text message from Joel. 

Everything ok, sweetheart? You kinda rushed off on me. Call me :) 

Reading the text, you struggled to gather your thoughts and make sense of your feelings. It wasn’t a rejection, a hey i don't think we should see eachother anymore text, but it didn’t give you any answers either. He seemed so nonchalant, so blase, as if you hadn’t opened up to him about your feelings at all, as if he hadn't completely and utterly confused you. 

Unsure of what to respond, you decide against responding all together, for now, at least. You didn’t feel as though you could call him, you couldn’t even decide on words to send him in a text, there was no way your brain would be able to conjure up a response in real time over the phone. So, you put your phone down again and got through the rest of your weekend, trying not to think about him. 

Nothing had changed between you and Marcus, not that you expected it to, you lived like roommates, as if you shared this house and nothing more. He came home late on Saturday night and was out of the house before you woke up on Sunday morning, not even giving you a chance to ask where he was going, although you weren’t sure you would, given the chance. 

Monday came and went, with little to no interaction with Marcus, piles of work that you had to get done and a missed call from Joel. You didn’t see the call until an hour later and were too swamped to call back, so you left it. That night after work, you contemplated calling him back, Marcus wasn’t home so you didn't have to worry about him hearing, but you were at a loss for words. You had no idea what to say to Joel, but worse than your lack of words were your nerves. You were nervous as to what his words would be, so you didn’t call. 

The next day at work was quieter, you didn’t have to eat your lunch at your desk while you worked so you went for a walk on your lunch break, sitting in the park not far from the office with your lunch. As you sat down, you felt your phone vibrating and, fishing it out of your back pocket, read Joel’s name in bold font across your phone screen. Staring at the writing for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you answered the phone, unable to avoid him any longer. You held the phone up to your ear and watched a bird fly out of a hole in a tree, internally wondering if it was fleeing the nest, like you wanted to and spoke a quiet, “Hi.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” his gruff voice sent shivers down your back, “what's goin’ on, are you ok?”

“I’m ok,” you sigh, mentally kicking yourself for your inability to just let it out, and pause before continuing, “are you?”

“Yeah, I’m just at work,” there was a brief pause, a beat of silence where you both held your phones to your ears, thinking of the right words to say. “Listen, when we were talking that night, I panicked… I kinda froze, I guess.” His voice was apologetic, his normally confident speech was broken into parts by breaks and pauses, stutters and stammers, as if he had thought of what to say beforehand but had more words on his mind. “I shoulda’ said more, I just got nervous,” you heard him take a sip of a drink before continuing, “it’s been years since I’ve felt anything for anyone and…. It's a little weird feelin’ this way for a married woman,” he released a small chuckle at his words, “but I’d be an idiot not to see what happens.”

“I…. Joel I don’t really know what to say,” you answered truthfully, you wished that words would come to your mind, any words other than the ones you spoke, but none did. You were so taken aback by his speech that nothing was coming out of your mouth. Luckily, Joel filled the silence.

“Sarah’s stayin’ at a friends again on Friday. Do ya’ wanna come over?” He asked before quickly adding, “I’ll cook.” As if you needed any more convincing. 

“I’d love to,” you said, your smile steadily widening as you spoke. 

“And bring some clothes to sleep in this time,” he added, and although his voice was as deep and gruff as ever, you swore you could hear his smile.

“I’d rather wear your clothes to sleep, honestly,” you retorted before saying your goodbyes, with Joel promising to check in with you in a couple days. 

After the conversation, Joel was feeling better. His thoughts were still clouded by you, but they were no longer negative. He no longer worried he’d ruined everything by shutting down that night, but his worries were persistent when it came to his feelings. It had been so long since he had felt anything other than lust for a woman, so long since he had wanted to cater to a woman, so long since the word relationship had crossed his mind. This was terrifying for Joel already, but factoring in the fact that you were married to another man made it so much worse. He knew you were unhappy with your husband but he didn't know your plans, he didn't know what you saw for yourself in the future. He didn’t know if you would leave your husband or stay married to him. Worst of all, he didn’t know if you thought about him, the way he thought about you. Joel could no longer ignore the rush he experienced when you were around. The dam inside him had broken and although vulnerability did not come easily to him, he was willing to be vulnerable for you, willing to be open for you. He was ready to expose his heart to you, rip it out of his chest and hold it up to you to show the speed at which it beat when you were around him. He needed to know that you felt the same. That you had to remind yourself to breathe when you saw him, just like he had to do when you looked his way. He needed to know if your heartbeat quickened when you saw him, if it synced with his when you caught eyes. 

Joel had never known a woman like you, a woman so strong, intelligent, funny and witty. Joel had never had sex as good as he did with you and Joel had never felt such a wordless connection. He felt the connection immediately, when he looked around the bar that night and found you already looking at him, he felt compelled to approach you. He felt confident under your gaze, just like he felt dizzy underneath your touch, enchanted beneath your spell. 

Joel cringed when his mind circled back to the conversation that was had in his bed, his nervous, thoughtless reaction that caused you to leave so quickly the next morning. Watching you leave like that, almost sprinting out of the house, had him reeling, searching his memories for something that would have caused it. He didn't have to backtrack for long, his short answer and haste kiss on the cheek was now engraved into his brain, his own voice taunting him whenever his mind was quiet. It had been so long since he felt this way that his first reaction was to sabotage himself, but he didn't want to do that anymore, he didn’t want to stand in his own way when he could have you. 

After a good day at work on Thursday, you ran into a slight problem after arriving home. You had been relying on Marcus going to his weekly guys night on Friday, so you wouldn’t have to lie about your whereabouts. So, your surprise was evident when he’d asked, almost immediately after you’d walked through the door, “How about we have a night in tomorrow? Just the two of us.”

“I thought you were going to your guys night again?” The first half of your answer was genuine, at least, “I made plans with Carrie for tomorrow,” you lied through your teeth, “think we’re gonna’ have a pamper, self care sort of night. I’m sorry.” Although you really didn’t feel sorry at all. Was he really trying now? Trying to spend more time with you, trying to pay more attention to you again? As soon as you stopped showing signs of sadness at his lack of attention, love and time spent on you, he tried to suck you back in, but when you were upset and trying your hardest to make the marriage work, he was nowhere to be found. 

“Guess I’ll go see the guys, then,” he huffed loudly, like a child unable to get their own way, and headed for the stairs. Halfway through the living room, he turned around, pointed towards the bouquet that Joel bought for you, and asked, “By the way, who got you those flowers?”. And fuck, you had completely forgotton that you decided to deal with the flowers later, not realising then that later would be almost a week later, with Marcus shooting daggers at you from across the room.

“Oh… I got them,” you began your lie, “for myself. Saw the florist after work on Friday and, I haven’t had flowers in the house in a while so,” you felt yourself starting to ramble so you cut yourself off with a shrug, your heart beating in your ears as you watched him walk away once again. 

That night, when you went to bed, the door to the guest bedroom was closed, and you could see a sliver of light underneath the door. Walking into your bedroom, the bed was empty and completely untouched, confirming your suspicions that Marcus had decided to sleep in the spare bedroom. Months ago, this distance would have clutched tightly at your heart like a fist, your eyes would have welled with tears and you would feel only despair for the end of your marriage. But looking at the empty bed, there were no tears, only a dull ache at the thought of the last 12 years spent with Marcus. A dull ache that solidified that you no longer loved him, a dull ache that announced to you that maybe you were ready to leave him. A dull ache that symbolised your decision finally being made.

Going to sleep that night, you decided that you would talk to Marcus about a divorce as soon as you could, that you would look for your own home to move into, one that wasn’t already filled with your own memories, one that hadn't housed you in your unhappiness for so long. For the first time, you slept soundly that night, and awoke excited at the prospect of being alone, of building and focusing on your own life, rather than building your life around someone else’s. 

In a shockingly good mood all throughout Friday, you weren’t surprised that you hadn’t seen Marcus all day, but you figured you would be able to talk to him about going your separate ways later on in the weekend, and instead, focused your efforts and excitement on getting ready to go to Joel’s. Opting for a comfortable outfit of denim shorts and a strappy tank top, you headed to Joel’s, nervous excitement brimming inside you. Parking in his driveway and knocking on his door had your heart almost slamming out of your chest, you thought of the last time you had been here, the way you had wanted to leave as quickly as possible. Faced with the prospect of seeing him again, being in his space, you couldn’t wait to walk through the door.

“Well don’t you look cute,” he smiled as he opened the door, moving to the side, gesturing for you to walk past him and inside the house. Taking a second to take him in, you noticed that his hair was wet, slicked back tidily at the front, but his curls were slowly forming at the back of his head, where his hair was drying quicker. He looked so handsome like this, you loved his hair when it was curly and unruly, but like this, you could see his whole face, completely unobstructed and fuck, he was beautiful. 

“You look so handsome,” you said, still taking in his appearance, “did you just get out of the shower?” He wore grey sweatpants and a black, short sleeved t-shirt that was once again, impossibly tight around his shoulders and biceps. His big, broad frame would make any shirt look tight on him, as if it were fighting not to break, not to unravel under the pressure. 

“Yeah, I did,” he answered while leading you into the living room, where the tv was playing something you couldn’t quite make out, “shame you missed it.” You were worried that you wouldn’t be able to escape the air of awkwardness, worried that the ending of your last meeting would dull the start of this one, but hearing his words and seeing his smirk reassured you that there would be no such thing.

“There’s always time for that,” you laughed as you sat on the sofa beside him and he quickly placed his arm on the back of the couch, allowing you to sink into him. “I was promised food,” you gave him a pointed look as you spoke, “what are you cooking?” 

“About that,” he looked at you sheepishly and paused, a small smile on his face, “the more I thought about what to cook, the more nervous I got so I thought we could just order somethin’.” Your grin widened at his abashed expression, finding his words absolutely adorable, and leaned into kiss him, mumbling against his mouth that you had been craving pizza anyway. Joel hummed in approval against your mouth, leaned into the kiss before pulling away to get up and ordering the pizza. He rolled his eyes when you asked for a hawaiian, but relayed the order over the phone with no complaints. 

“Said it’d be around 45 minutes, s’ a busy night,” he held your chin gently with his thumb and forefinger, turned your head to face him and softly slotted his lips with yours. His plump lips moved with yours in an easy, almost lazy rhythm as he opened your legs and moved to settle between them, allowing you to feel his already hard length. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him deeper into your embrace as he licked deeper into your mouth, you were so close, but you wanted more, you wanted him as close as possible. 

“Joel,” you gasped as he started grinding his length into you, the denim of your shorts adding to the friction. His lips moved down to your neck, trailing kisses down your neck to your chest, pulling you top down to expose your breasts before landing his lips on your nipple, lapping his tongue around it and sucking it into his mouth as your breathing picked up, small gasps and whimpers being released from your mouth. “Joel please,” you looked down at him as he moved on to your other breast and repeated the actions, “touch me,” you begged. 

“I am touching you, sweetheart,” you whined at his cocky response and moved your hips, grinding upwards to add friction where you needed it most. Joel looked at where you were desperately moving your hips and let out a chuckle, a chuckle that made you feel small and almost pathetic, but also made you all the more wet and needy for him. His hand trailed down your body, from your breast to the top of your denim shorts, dipping beneath the hem and circling your skin with a featherlight touch. “You want me down here, baby?” He asked as he undid the button of your shorts and started pushing them down, you instinctively lifted your hips so he could pull your shorts down completely, leaving you in your underwear, with your hard nipples exposed to Joel’s hungry gaze. Lifting your legs so that your thighs rested against your front, Joel directed your hands to the backs of your thighs and instructed, “Hold em’ right here f’me, baby,” before kneeling on the floor, positioning himself so that his face was level with your clothed pussy. Joel growled as he looked at the wet spot rapidly growing on your underwear, and you watched him with wide eyes as he ran his nose down your seam, from your clit to your hole and back up again and, to your complete surprise, unabashedly inhaling your scent. Your hands moved from holding your legs to holding your face, covering it in embarrassment, but Joel would let you do no such thing. He grabbed your elbows from his position below you and pulled them down. He moved your underwear to the side, licked a stripe up your pussy. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said before harshly sucking your clit into his mouth and stopping to speak again, “I love everything about this pussy, baby. The taste, the smell,” he said in a low growl, before beginning his attack on your centre. He alternated between licking and slurping passionately at your clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking it into his mouth, and pushing his tongue inside you. You couldn’t keep your moans to yourself, your body was reacting to his touches loudly and openly, your moans loud and high pitched, while your legs shook every time Joel’s mouth wrapped around your clit. 

“Joel,” you gasped, your voice shaky as your eyes fluttered shut, unable to keep them open as Joel continued his merciless attack. Your breath hitched and your eyes shot open when you felt a finger prodding at your entrance, before thrusting in and out of you at a fast pace. “Joel, please,” you said, louder this time, “I wanna come, Joel, please,” you continued in an unstable voice as you looked down at him. Joel didn’t answer with words, but with growls and groans of his own as he tasted you. His fingers curled at that spot guaranteed to make you scream, and his hand moved to your lower stomach, sprawled out adding pressure. You were hurtling towards your release, and recognised a feeling only Joel had pulled out of you before. “Joel stop I’m gonna make a mess,” you spoke quickly, the words coming out jumbled together as your breath quickened drastically. 

“I want you to make a mess of my face, baby,” Joel said quickly before reattaching his mouth to you, pushing you further towards release, before speaking again, “give me what I want.”

His words made you give in immediately, no longer caring about making a mess, you gave in to Joel’s movements, your whines becoming more and more high pitched as he continued his movements. You couldn’t speak, only let out incoherent whines and pleas, before your mouth opened in a silent scream, the only sound leaving you was that of your breath hitching and the squelch of the wetness between your legs as it gushed out of you. Joel muttered, “good girl,” as you came down, your breath violently being pushed out of you as you watched him rise from his knees, the bottom half of his face soaked with your juices, as was his forearm. You bit your lip at the evidence of your orgasm that covered him, leaving a shine on his skin. 

“I need you inside,” you whispered as he hovered above you, overcome with desire to be full of him. He quickly put on a condom and returned to his position. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered as he kissed your temple and leaned back to line himself up with your entrance. “Love watching you come for me,” he said as he pushed the tip inside, the last word of the sentence trailing off into a low groan as he felt your warmth enveloping him. 

He pushed inside slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size, before wrapping his arms around your thighs and lifting them up, your feet in the air next to his head, leaving only your shoulders and upper back on the sofa. When he was happy with the position, he started thrusting all the way in and out of you quickly as he held you still by your legs, until the sound of your skin slapping could be heard throughout the room. A moan was forced out of your mouth with each thrust, your throat opening up to release a breath each time Joel filled you to the brim, he fucked you hard and fast while he let out grunts and groans of his own, inbetween strings of praise. 

“This pussy feels so fuckin’ good,” he exhaled, and while his voice showed signs of fatigue, his body showed no signs of slowing down as he placed your back flat on the sofa and pushed your legs down so that your thighs rested against your stomach once again. This time, he didn’t instruct you to hold them, but held them down himself as he fucked you. The change in angle allowed him to push inside and reach deeper than before, knocking the wind out of you as he brushed the spot only he could reach. He watched as your eyes rolled back and fluttered closed, your mouth opening to let out loud whimpers and whines at how deep you felt him, and he whispered, “that’s it, baby,” before slowing down slightly, allowing you to feel every inch of him grinding into you. “This pussy takes me so fuckin’ good, you’re such a good girl.”

“So deep,” you replied breathlessly, his praise making your head spin. Joel’s hand suddenly settles at your neck, only applying slight pressure, pressure that, mixed with the fullness his cock gave, made you gasp in pleasure. 

“I know it’s deep but you can take it, right?” he asked and you nodded your head erratically, as best as you could with his hand around your neck. “That’s right, my good girl takes it all.” You involuntarily clenched around him at his words, his smirk returning to his lips as he felt the effect that he had on you. “Touch your pretty little clit f’me,” he ordered, his voice breathy but still dominant, “make yourself come on my cock.”

You moved your hand down towards your centre and felt where your bodies met, where he was stretching you out like no one had done before, and surely like no one ever would again. Moving your fingers upwards towards your clit, you moved your fingers in tight, steady circles in an effort to make yourself come, wanting to do everything he asked of you, if it meant hearing even a morsel more of his praise. Your moans grew louder as you grew closer with each grind of Joel’s hips and each flick of your fingers. Between whines and gasps you tried to speak, “Joel, fuck, I’m gonna’,” but the words came out jumbled and broken, “Oh my God, you’re gonna make me,” you broke off in a high pitched moan, the noise accompanied by the squelching sound of your wetness gushing out of you as Joel kept thrusting hard, and he didn’t stop until he emptied into the condom with a low grunt and an extended fuuuuck. 

Catching your breath, you watched as Joel ran to grab a cloth, still completely naked, and returned to gently clean you up. He put his boxers and sweats back on, but threw his shirt towards you, grumbling about how that would be comfier than, “those tight ass shorts,” before going to the kitchen. While he was gone, you got up to put your underwear back on and slipped his shirt over your head, feeling comfy and safe, enveloped in his clothes that still held his scent. Joel came back with a glass of water in his hand, “Just realised I didn’t even offer you a drink when you came in,” he placed the glass in your hand before sitting next to you and pulling you close. 

“Your southern hospitality’s awful,” you giggled, “fucking me without even asking if I was thirsty?”

Joel opened his mouth to answer but was soon stopped by the doorbell ringing. “‘S probably the pizza,” he mumbled as he got up and walked to the door, paying the man and grabbing the pizza boxes in his hands before turning around and kicking the door closed. He settled next to you on the sofa again, placing the pizzas on the table and opening them up. 

The tv was on, but you were hardly paying attention to what was playing, some re-run of an old show with an obnoxiously loud laughing track, you preferred to listen to Joel tell you about his week. He told you about his brother's mistakes that angered him to no end and the shock of his daughter asking him if he was seeing anyone.

“She asked you that?” He nodded at your question as he took a huge chunk out of his slice of pizza, chewing obnoxiously. 

“Yeah,” he said, “she’s a little suspicious, I think Tommy might’ve mentioned something.” 

“You talk to Tommy about me or something?” You asked teasingly, sitting back on the sofa and huffing at how full you felt. 

He threw his last crust onto the pizza box, chewing his last bite before answering, “Had to explain why I kept checkin’ my phone somehow.” He sent you a wink as he spoke, smiling at you as you yawned and quickly tried to cover your mouth with your hand. 

“You tired?” 

“No,” you said sheepishly. 

“C’mon, let’s go to bed,” he held your hand and began tugging you up off the sofa. 

“I don’t want to sleep yet,” you whined, not wanting the night to end so quickly.

“We can just relax in bed for a while, baby,” he tugged you towards the stairs, gesturing for you to walk up first. He gave your ass a couple light slaps as you walked up, earning giggles from you. You brushed your teeth side by side, stealing glances at each other in the mirror and Joel left for the bedroom while you used the toilet. 

Crawling into bed beside Joel, you inched closer towards him and found comfort in his outstretched arms. You lay facing each other, one of his arms resting underneath your body, allowing you to be as close as you could. He held you with a gentle grip, his big hands were outstretched, one spread across your back underneath his shirt and the other rested on your bicep. His hands were momentarily still, allowing you to feel the warmth of his hands, the heat being transferred from Joel’s body to yours through his soft touch. He continued to look at you as he started moving his hands, his fingers gently moving along your skin, as though he was connecting constellations in the stars. Your eyes followed his fingers carefully, your eyes traced their every move, just as the tips of his fingers traced every curve of your body, every bump or scar on your skin. And under the trace of his fingers, under the gaze of his eyes you felt truly seen. Has anybody seen you the way he saw you then? His gaze was heavy, his stare intense, but you didn’t shy away from his eyes, you didn’t flinch from his featherlight touch, you returned his stare and you returned his caress. Your fingers started moving along the skin of his arms, along the lines in his face, as if off their own accord. You subjected him to the same heavy, all consuming gaze as you looked into his eyes. You subjected him to the same featherlight, earnest touch as you ran your hands down his back, his sides, his arms, his face, anywhere you could reach. Because in that moment you saw him and he saw you. 

You moved your hand up to Joel’s now dishevelled hair and ran your hand through it but Joel was quick to stop your endeavour. He grasped your wrist in his hand and turned it around, so that your palm was facing you. You watched as he looked at your hand with a furrowed brow. You couldn’t understand why your hand had captivated him so intensely until his other hand came up to join yours in front of his face, and he traced your wedding band with his thumb.You opened your mouth to speak but no words left your throat, and Joel’s words lingered in the air instead. 

“Take the ring off.” He was now looking at you rather than at your ring, his eyes bored into yours as a shocked expression overtook your features. “Please,” he added, almost desperately, his voice nothing more than a whimper. “Just for tonight, I wanna’ pretend you're not his, that you’re mine.”

His confession almost broke you. You had struggled while coming to grips with your feelings but hadn’t thought about how Joel must feel, seeing a married woman, sleeping with a married woman, knowing that she was going home to her husband eventually. You carefully slid your wedding ring off your finger and moved from the bed to place it in your bag. When you climbed back into bed, you placed your left hand, now lacking your wedding ring, onto his cheek and, looking into his eyes, told Joel what you wished was true, “I’m yours, Joel.”

Joel’s lips met yours in a tender kiss, and when they departed, Joel spoke into your mouth, “I’m yours too,” his words left his lips, travelled down your throat and into your body, and devastated you from the inside out, “I’ll still be yours when you go back to him.” 

You couldn’t speak, no helpful words came to your mind as you looked into Joel’s eyes. They looked into yours with a sad longing, one that you were sure was reflected in your own eyes. Unable to conjure up the words, you put your lips to his and kissed him deeply, pushing all the words you couldn't say into his mouth, willing him to understand you through your touch. His palm came to rest at the back of your neck, softly keeping you in place as he kissed you back, his tongue licking into your mouth as his other hand went to your lower back and pulled you closer towards him until your front was flush with his. His mouth left yours and placed kisses down your neck while his hands went to the ends of the shirt you were wearing, pulling it up and over your head. You did the same to him, wanting to feel his skin on yours, with nothing between your bodies.  

He went to position himself further down the bed, further down your body and slowly spread your legs, but the sudden feeling of emptiness that dominated you made your arms lower to his, and your hands pulled at him to bring his face to yours again. The emptiness could be felt throughout your body, and you knew it would only be satisfied by Joel filling you up. “I just want you inside,” you whispered when his face was level with yours again.

“At least let me open you up first,” he said with furrowed brows, not wanting to hurt you, but pain was the last thing on your mind at that moment. You just wanted him. You wanted to feel him everywhere. 

“Please,” you asked, “I need it.” He said nothing in response, only reached over your body to get into the bedside drawer, pulling out a condom. Your disappointment was evident in your face, and you let out a quiet, “no,” that was barely above a whisper. He turned his head to look at you and raised an eyebrow. 

“I want to feel you, Joel,” you said, your voice still quiet, “all of you.” Suddenly worried about his response, you added, “I’m clean, I got checked last time I was at the gynaecologist.” You took a deep breath before continuing. “I haven’t been with… him since then.” Your voice was timid and nervous, unsure how to explain that it had been weeks, months even, since you had slept with your husband. You were anxious to bring him up in such a conversation, unable to say his name, you knew he would know exactly who you were talking about. 

He grimaced at your words, at the mention of your husband, but quickly hid his distaste, “I got tested after the last person I slept with, I’m clean too” his soft voice matched your quiet words as he placed the condom back in the drawer and pulled you close again. “Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes searching yours for any aversion, any discomfort, but only found a pleading want as you nodded your head and whispered a yes. 

He positioned himself in between your legs and kissed you softly while running his fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness onto his hand, circling your clit teasingly once, and spreading your juices onto his cock. His lips didn’t leave yours as he positioned his tip at your entrance and pushed himself inside you, moving inch by inch, creating a delicious burn as he stretched you out and filled you to the brim. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,” 

You wrapped your legs around him in an attempt to pull him closer, although it felt impossible. He stayed fully seated inside of you, completely enveloped by your warmth as you both let out gasps and groans at the feeling. When Joel started moving, it was a slow, steady grind. Barely a movement, but enough to cause a delicious friction for both of you. You let out high pitched gasps of his name and he released grunts of yours. Your back arched as his tip kissed that spot so deep inside of you and his arms moved smoothly under your body, wrapping around you and holding you tight. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers running through his hair and pulling as he pushed heavy breaths out of your lungs. 

In a messy, close tangling of limbs that was both greedy and unhurried, needy but not rushed, you felt him deep inside of you. You felt his whole length inside of you as he ground further into you, barely leaving the warmth of your cunt, only wanting to feel close to you, not wanting the separation that came with a full thrust. 

“Joel,” you gasped, “Joel, please,” your mouth started to babble, the words involuntarily leaving you as he grunted in your ear, the sounds only heightening your wetness, your pussy clenching around his cock each time you heard him. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” He asked with a hard grind of his hips, pushing impossibly deeper inside. 

“I want you to fill me up, Joel,” you begged, your voice cracking with need. 

“You’re already full o’me, baby,” he chuckled into your ear, taking your earlobe in between his teeth, licking and nibbling while continuing the rhythmic grind of his hips. 

“No, Joel,” you were cut off by a loud moan leaving your throat as his hand slipped between your bodies to your clit, his fingers moving in tight, unfaltering circles to match the press of his hips. “I want you to come inside me.” 

Joel groaned loudly as soon as the words reached his ears, gasping your name in equal parts shock and contentment. He pulled his head back to look into your eyes, his eyebrows raised in a wordless question. 

“I have an IUD,” you said while pressing your hands into his lower back, wanting him, needing him deeper. His fingers moved quicker on your clit as he groaned at your admission, his hips faltering slightly. 

“Such a fuckin’ good girl for me,” he grunted out, “lettin’ me stuff you full.” You moaned at his words and clamped down around his cock. The steady grind of his hips had now faltered and he was thrusting in and out of you slowly, but he was just as deep as before. This change in movement caused his tip to brush that spot over and over, in a quick procession. This, mixed with his words and grunts in your ear and his finger running firm circles on your clit made you come completely unannounced. It hit you like a wall and there was nothing you could say, you came with your mouth open in a silent scream, your walls clamped around his cock and fluttered gratefully. Your chest moved up and down with heavy breaths as Joel continued to fuck into you, pushing so deep inside and moaning your praise.

“That’s my good girl, fuck,” his grunts were becoming louder, deeper as he hurtled toward his orgasm, his hips stammering the closer he got. “Tell me you’re mine,” he said, his voice a mix between a plea and a command. “Fuckin tell me you’re mine,” he repeated, louder than before.

“I’m yours, Joel,” you said through moans, he was fucking you hard and deep, messy and hurried. “I’m yours,” you repeated once more before pleading, “come inside me, Joel.”

He let out a low growl at your words, and pushed himself deep, so that he was fully seated inside you, and let go, coming inside of you before pulling out to watch his spend trickle out of you, pushing it back in with his fingers before it could go far. 

Exhausted, you lay down and closed your eyes, feeling the absence of his presence for a moment, until he returned to clean you up and got into bed beside you. You had read and read but never understood the feeling expressed in Jane Eyre of feeling so close to a lover, of being bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh. You had certainly never felt that close to Marcus. But in that moment, lying there with Joel, with your wedding ring thrown to the side and forgotten, your skin connected to his, your legs tangled together, as if you had tied yourselves to one another in an effort to keep each other near, you felt it, you understood. 

 The last thing you remembered before falling completely asleep was Joel placing a soft kiss on your temple. 

You woke to an empty bed the next morning, the sheets crumpled and still warm to the touch on Joel’s side. Getting out of bed, you put on Joel’s shirt again and brushed your teeth in the bathroom before walking towards the stairs. At the top of the stairs you were met with the sight of Joel walking up, with a cup of coffee in each hand. 

“Go back to bed,” his soft command was met with a look of confusion from you. “My plan was to wake you up with coffee in bed,” he explained, “so go back to bed.” You giggled at his thoughtfulness and upon hearing Joel’s quiet, “please,” turned around and walked back to the bedroom, settling into bed once more. You listened to the patter of his footsteps up the stairs and towards the room and the sexy gruff of his voice wishing you a “Mornin’, darlin’,” as he walked in, as if he hadn’t already seen you that morning. 

He placed a cup of coffee in your outstretched hands and sat in bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and kissing your forehead. 

“Thank you, Joel,” you whispered, smiling up at him, leaning up and pressing your lips against his. Last night was still at the forefront of your mind and you were overcome with emotions you couldn’t quite explain. 

“Listen,” Joel began, “I meant what I said last night,” his words came at exactly the right time. 

“I want you,” he explained, “and not just like this, I want all of you. But I need to know what your plans are, I need to know I’m not getting invested for nothing.” He took a deep breath before continuing, “You might be mine for now but when you go home to him, I still belong to you. So I just, I need to know.”

“I’m not staying with him Joel. It’s just, it's a big thing, a long process.” You wished you could give him more reassurance, but you weren’t sure what you could say that would put his mind at ease. You looked into his eyes and said, “I want you, not him.”

Joel’s hand came up to your cheek, lightly stroking the skin next to your ear with his thumb, “I don't want to put pressure on you, I just need to know that this is going somewhere.” 

“It is,” you promised, “I’ll talk to him.” You pressed a kiss to his lips, as if you were sealing a promise, and felt nothing but happiness and safety. 

The rest of the morning passed in pure domestic bliss, Joel cooked breakfast and you both drank another coffee while you talked over the show that was on tv. When it was time for you to leave, you reluctantly got dressed and gathered your things and climbed into the car, rolling the window down. Joel stood next to the window and leaned in to kiss you goodbye. Unable to leave yet, the goodbye kiss turned into an I don’t want to go kiss, full of uncertainty and words you wanted to say but couldn’t quite articulate. Pulling away you settled on a meek, “bye,” while Joel promised to call you soon. Joel watched and waved as you reversed out of his driveway and drove away, both of your minds full of possibilities for the future. 

Your drive home was uneventful. You felt positive and excited, you were finally clear on your plans. You knew that you had to speak to Marcus about your marriage, suggest a separation and request a divorce and although you knew this would be difficult, your happiness was worth it, with or without Joel in the picture. You expected to arrive back to an empty house, like you normally did. What you didn’t expect to see was Marcus sitting at the dining table, facing the door, as if he was waiting for your return. 

With shock evident in your voice, you let out a weak, “Hi,” but upon noticing the expression on his face you added, “are you ok, Marcus?” He looked disappointed, his hand held the bottom of his face and his brows were furrowed together. 

“Where were you last night?” His question threw you off, and you scrambled to answer.

“I was at Carrie-”

“I know you weren’t at Carrie’s so I’ll ask one more time,” his voice was raised and firm, “where were you last night?” He spoke slowly, the anger he felt slowing down his speech. You knew then that the expression on his face wasn’t disappointment, it was anger, fury. You felt frozen on the spot, your mouth sewed shut with shock, you didn’t move or speak, only looked down at your feet, nervously bringing your hands together and fiddling with your thumbs. 

Your heart jumped at the next words from Marcus, his booming voice only adding to the thumping acceleration of your heart. 

“Why aren’t you wearing your ring?”

Thank you so much for reading!! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated :) Part 4 soon

Taglist - @untamedheart81 @smol-beb @harriedandharassed @southernbe

@urfknlame @sheepdogchick3 @csarab615 @janellesbody   @anoverwhelmingdin @milly-louise@joeldjarin@mumma-moonchild@faith-alons26

[lizamango]

Right my wrongs - Husband’s father!Joel x f!reader 

Summary: You're both married, but that doesn't mean you can't be desperate for each other.

Warnings:  Smut, age gap (Joel is 50, reader in her mid 20s), long term infidelity x 2, porn with minimal plot, daddy kink, praise kink, spit kink, masturbation (f, m), oral/deep throating (m, f receiving), face riding, choking, dirty talk, creampie, unprotected PIV, edging, rough sex, possessiveness, Dom!Joel.

A/N: Thanks to @gracieispunk for the we-shouldn't-do-this inspo, and @papipascalispunk for the smut wishlist

Word count: 3.4k Rating: 18+ My masterlist

It’s so wrong, so beyond wrong. You’re both happily married - seemingly - you to his son, and Joel to his children's mother, and yet you still found yourself noticing that something was simmering under the surface between the two of you every time you sat together at family gatherings, just chatting innocently, eventually turning into undeniable flirting every time you had a moment alone. He’s not even that old, only fifty, and you in your mid twenties. You've been married to his son for two years, a man who is, appropriately, only a year older than you, but something about his father has drawn you in, a tangible band between the two of you threatening to snap since you realized he was just as drawn to you.

A palpable moment, sitting in the living room, listening to your sister in law telling everyone a story, making eye contact with your father in law and maintaining it, breathing slowly, letting your gaze travel down to his chest, to this shoulders, and back up to where he was running his fingers through his salt and pepper curls, a flush creeping up his neck as you realized you were biting your lip while you looked into his eyes. An hourglass was turned, and a countdown started, numbering the days until you would finally give in.

And last fourth of July, it happened. At a large lake house, rented for the long weekend by Joel and his wife, your mother in law, with a myriad of family members, including your husbands’ siblings, their spouses and kids. Everyone was at the beach for the day, you enjoying the time off and floating around in the warm water, feeling the warmth of the sun seeping into your skin and through your eyelids, listening to the sounds of the lake surrounding you. Headin’ back to the house to start dinner, you need anything? you heard Joel’s raspy, deep voice from a distance. You heard his wife too, I’m good, thanks, and the sound of them kissing. 

You gave it a few moments, dragging your arms through the small waves of the water and thinking up an excuse to go inside. Nobody else seemed to be heading in, and you were frequently counted on to be the designated chef of the family, so it would make all the sense in the world for you to volunteer, wouldn’t it?

And so you went, squeezing your wet hair as you walked through the sand, up towards the house, wearing nothing but a drenched, blue bikini, the slight breeze making your nipples poke through the slippery fabric. You slid the glass door open, saying a careful hey, and watching him as he turned around from digging through the fridge, his mouth falling open and his eyes raking over your body as you stood there, leaning up against the frame. 

Before you knew it, you were bent over the kitchen counter, the bottom string of your bikini top still tied around your ribcage while the fabric was dangling under your chest, dripping onto the marble while he fucked you from behind, a large palm covering your mouth so you wouldn’t draw attention to yourself. His thick cock was prodding a spot inside you that you previously were not even aware of, your head falling back on his broad shoulder while you came around him, seizing up and forcing his own orgasm out with a growl. You did help him with dinner afterwards, wearing a thin cover-up dress while your husband’s father’s come was seeping out into your still wet bikini bottoms. 

Ever since then, dinners at their house were a constant struggle to keep it together, the both of you only giving into the pull when there were enough people around, not just the four of you at the table. You found a few opportunities, however, in the bathrooms of family members at a handful of birthday parties and even Thanksgiving. He gave you jewelry for Christmas, saying it was from him and his wife, but you knew it was his idea. It still dangles off your neck every day, starting a tiny fire in his eyes every time he sees you in it, and he feels it digging into his skin when he has his hand wrapped around your throat.

You don’t know how much your in-laws have sex - why would you? And Joel doesn’t know how much you and his son have sex either. For all you know, Joel could have fucked you in the bathroom at his brother’s birthday party then gone and fucked his wife the same night. You wouldn’t blame him - she’s stunning - and if you were just one degree more fucked up, you might even find yourself fantasizing about a threesome. But as for how often they fuck; you don’t know, and you don’t really care. All you care about is that Joel is coming to fix the broken door to your bedroom closet today, a text from him saying he’s on his way popping up on your phone the moment your husband left to run errands and you saw his car pull out from the driveway. 

The heat starts to spread in your body the second you hear the slam of his truck door closing, his footsteps on the stairs and the ring of the doorbell. You let him in with a smile, letting his chest brush up against you as you walk in the door. “Left to your own devices today?” he asks with a hint of humor as he notices how quiet the house is. You nod, feigning some sort of half-hearted sadness. “Yeah.. Just you and me here while he’s out running errands”, you pout. You hear a deep hum of acknowledgement from his chest, and look down at his body for a second before you feel his finger under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him, be a good girl today, huh? Need to get this door fixed for ya or else you're gonna complain my ear off. 

You sit on your bed and watch him as he fixes the door, leaning back on your hands with your legs dangling off the edge, the muscles of his back and arms stretching his t-shirt in all directions, his jeans equally strained by the thickness of his legs. It turns you on an irrational amount to observe him like this, your clit starting to ache when you hear the subtle grunts coming from him as he adjusts the door. You can’t help yourself, and he’s facing away from you anyway, so you carefully slide your hand into your shorts and start rubbing your clit with just one finger.

A little moan escapes you, and you freeze when he turns to look at you with an expression turning from confusion to amusement. Jesus, he whispers, shaking his head, “Just give me two more minutes and I’ll take care of that for you, okay?”. He stands up, slowly walks over to you and cups your jaw in his hand, “Keep touching yourself, but don’t come until I say you can”. He leans in to kiss you, his tongue swiping into your mouth as he releases your jaw and puts his hand over your shorts, motioning for you to keep going, before pulling back and looking at you for a moment - letting you see the erection already straining his pants - then returning to his task.  

Those two minutes go by extremely slowly, with you having to stop periodically to cool off, waiting for him to finish up with the door. You finally watch him slide it side to side in its tracks, then get his tools cleaned up and place them by the door. He stalks over to you again, pulling your hand out of your shorts and yanking them down your legs to see that you’re not wearing any panties. He shakes his head in disapproval, clicks his tongue as he looks at your glistening, swollen pussy. 

“Lack of holiday parties lately, huh?” he teases, tracing his knuckles up and down your seam. You nod carefully, looking at his bulge with big eyes, whimpering when his thumb catches on your clit. He presses, gently, circles it a few times, and you’re already so close to the edge that you whine as your head falls back. He retracts his hand, not yet, honey, and pulls off your shirt to reveal that you’re not wearing a bra either, with your nipples already stiff, and your entire body so ready for him he mutters, a quiet fuck, under his breath. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he asks with his hand on your jaw again, the other one cupping your breast and palming it firmly. “Thanks, daddy” you say softly, and he nods once before letting go and unbuckling his belt, shucking off his jeans and boxers before reaching back over his neck and pulling off his t-shirt. He stands in front of you, slowly jacking his impossibly long and thick, veiny cock with one hand, the tip a deep shade of red and the glisten of precome pooling in the slit, and the other reaching out to wrap around your jaw, digging his fingers in to force it open. 

“Open up” he coos, and you oblige, sticking your tongue out just a little and tiling your head back. “Yeah, just like that” he murmurs, before collecting the saliva in his mouth, hovering over you and letting it fall into the back of your mouth with a long, drawn out spit. He keeps your mouth open, watching the muscles in your throat try to swallow while he gazes down at you through dark eyes, your lower body starting to squirm and dig into the mattress as you glance down at the way he’s fucking his fist. 

He groans when the first drop of precome leaks out, shutting your mouth and letting you swallow as he lets go of his cock and puts his hand on your back, scooting you closer to him before moving his hand up and pulling you towards himself, positioning your face right in front of his tip, and rubbing it on your lips to urge you to open up again. “I know how much you want my cock” he croons, rubbing your neck and twisting his hand in your hair, and you let out a desperate sort of sigh, opening your mouth to take him in and moaning when it slides in and his head hits the back of your throat. You take a few deep breaths, inhaling his musk and running your hand over his pelvis, through the thick, dark hair and landing on his shaft, circling around it as best as you can, your fingertips not standing a chance at touching.  

You coat his length with saliva and start to suck, your tongue firmly teasing the underside of his cockhead and your hand stroking him with the spit sliding down from your open mouth. His breaths are heavy, a few grunts and moans scattered in between as his chest heaves and his hips subtly start to thrust. The muffled moans and gags he forces out of you spur him on, and he fucks your face while snapping his fingers at you, eyes up here, and you have no choice but to look at him. 

“You’re gonna swallow my fucking come, huh, sweetheart?” he grunts, and you nod frantically, pulling off with a slurping sound so he can see the string of spit and precome connecting the two of you when you release him from your mouth. Good girl, keep going, he whispers, and you take him again, bobbing your head and winding your tongue around him until he shudders and pulls your head into him, nearly choking you with his length while his musky come pours down your throat, and he moans and curses and looks down at you with pupils so blown out you can’t tell the color of his eyes anymore. 

He lets you clean him up with your tongue before he pulls out and drags his knuckles along your pussy again, so wet and messy, and you whine again, falling back on the bed while your back arches and you try to push into his hand to no avail. “Look how desperate she is for me, baby” he coos as his hands run up along your sides, and he grabs onto your waist, lifting you higher onto the bed before dragging his wet tongue up your sex. He lifts up, teasing the head of his cock right where he just licked, rubbing it into your swollen clit until your hips buck, then sliding it down to your opening and giving you his tip, feeling you clenching around it and trying to suck him in further. 

Then he slowly gives you the entire length, drags it in and out a few times, so painfully slow, and you try to grind against his pelvis when he bottoms out, needing that last little bit of friction to make you come. He notices the way your hips move when he reaches the end of you, sees how your face contorts, and he knows your body so closely that he can tell you’re about to come. He pulls himself out harshly, lands a swat to your pussy and hears the frustrated exhale from your lungs as he hovers over you. “Not till I let you” he reminds you. 

He picks you up and places you on top of him as he lays down across your bed. That is, you and your husband’s bed. Then he grabs you by the hips and pulls you up until your thighs are stretched out on either side of his head and your pussy is touching his mouth, his hands splayed out over your ass cheeks, pulling them apart as he starts to lick you. Ride my tongue until you come on my face, you hear, muffled beneath you. “Yes- yes, daddy” you squeak, and moan so gutturally when your clit swipes across his tongue that you glance over at the window to make sure it’s closed. 

You feel him massage your cheeks and suck on your clit as you wind your hips back and forth, making eye contact as you look down and he starts to suck harder. You squeeze the headboard with your hands, trying to stabilize yourself as you start to shake, getting closer and closer, moaning and whimpering his name until your orgasm courses through you and he starts to lick you with broad stripes, letting your climax taper off gradually as you release the tight hold your legs had on his head. 

He pushes you down his body while he sits up against the headboard, letting you stand up on your knees and hover over his hard cock, then sink down on it and hear the rugged groan in his throat as he bottoms out. His arms come to wrap around you tightly, your legs circling his hips, and he spreads his thighs just enough to get leverage and fuck up into you, his one hand reaching up to your neck again to stabilize your head. You look into each other’s eyes while he fills you, stretches you and finds the spot only he knows how to touch. 

Both of your chests are heaving against each other while you pant, and you moan while he bites your lower lip, releasing it to kiss your neck and start muttering, to your or himself, you’re not even sure at this point. Fucking take it baby, he fucks you harder and you dig your nails into his back, this pussy belongs to me, you feel another orgasm simmering in your lower stomach, shouldn’t fuckin’ tempt me like this, you know I can’t control myself around you. His voice fills your ear and his hand squeezes your shoulder, anchoring you down into his lap so he can fuck you deeper. 

A few thrusts, a few more filthy words of encouragement and you’re seeing stars, another orgasm ripping through you and covering his crotch with sticky arousal and the slick of your come. Good girl, you hear, and he’s flipping you onto your back, his cock still fully sheathed inside you throughout the maneuver, and folding your legs to press your knees into your chest. 

You’re a complete mess, trying to arch your back but getting blocked by his strong hands shoving you into the mattress, your sensitive little spot getting pounded by the wide head of him, a drop of sweat from his chest dripping down onto yours. You can take it, you can take it, he coos, watching himself overwhelm you with his weight. “Daddy, please, too much- oh, it’s so good” you whine, listening to the obscene sound of his relentless thrusts.

“Just a little more, baby, be a good girl for me” he says and releases your legs, pulls out and yanks your body up and onto your hands and knees. The wet, slippery sound of his hand around his cock fills the room until you feel the wet head rub against your opening, then sink in until it hits the very end of you and you both moan. “Might be a while till we get to do this again, honey” he whispers as he leans over your back, sweeps your hair away from your neck and places a wet kiss along your shoulder, “Cindy's birthday ain’t until next month so we gotta make this one count”. 

You nod, breathing heavily and trying to muster up the energy to tilt your head back and look at him. “Can you really wait that long, Joel?” you ask, your eyebrows knitted in concern and your lips forming an innocent pout, “Can you go that long without being inside me?”. He looks up at the ceiling, then back at you, rubs his palm all the way up your spine and lets his hand trace over your shoulder and onto your throat, fiddling with the diamond necklace he gave you. “Probably not” he whispers under his breath, chewing on the inside of this cheek. You stay there for a second, looking into each other’s eyes while he wraps the thin, gold chain around his finger and releases it, runs the pad of his thumb over the little diamond and presses it against your chest. 

He raises up again and starts to slowly thrust into you, leaning back a little to watch where he disappears into you, and whispers, spread your legs for me, before reaching around and placing two fingers on your clit, rotating them as he gives you his entire length over and over. You start collapsing into the mattress, your face returning to the pillow and your eyes rolling back at his touch. Your hips start to wind and squirm, close again, and you hear him groan as he speeds up, letting you come on his cock once more and ride it out completely before he returns his hands to your hips. 

Then he sets a brutal pace, pushing the middle of your back down so you arch deeper for him, and grabbing your arms to pin your hands together behind you while he fucks you so fast there’s constant pressure on your g-spot. “Just like that, honey, you’re so fucking tight, fuck”, his words start to slur as he gets closer, “This pussy just does somethin' to me.. Jesus Christ”. His hips jerk as he fills you with his cock, “I can’t- fuck, you’re making me come”. 

On his last thrust, you feel the pulsating throbs of his cock, swelling and spitting ropes of his spend deep into you, and hear one last, drawn out, guttural moan filling your ears. He gently lets go of your hands, rubs your wrists and places them down onto the mattress, then massages the back of your hips. “Was that alright for you?” he asks, low and husky, with his mouth against the skin on your back, his breath on your damp skin and his nose tracing along your shoulder blade.

I have ditched my taglists, due to the majority of tags not working, and have created a notifications blog instead. Follow Angelic Notifs and turn your notifications on if you want my new fics served directly to you!

[lizamango]

His baby girls 💤 THE LAST OF US 2023- • 1.01 // 1.04

[lizamango]

Hi!!!!

hellooooo

[lizamango]

Finding You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 11/?

A/N: Sorry it took almost 2 years to update

Summary: You’ve been one of SHIELD’s top spies for years but what happens when the organisation you’ve put your trust in crumbles and Captain America gives you a mission to help him find his best friend? The last thing you expected to happen was to fall in love with your assignment and become best friends with a witch.

series tags: @buckylokisimp​​, @white-wolf-buckaroo​​, @austynparksandpizza, @markandlexies,  @yaszx​, @justsomecreaturewandering​

All marvel tags: @whoreforbuckybarness @badlandsbrunette​ @xxlovingfandomsxx​  @mattmurdockswh0r3 @bunnyweasley23​ @galacticstxrdust​

Add yourself to my taglist!

Wordcount: 2476

Masterlist

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9 ~ Chapter 10 ~

Warnings: mentions of grief

Chapter Summary: The Avengers settle into the Compound.

Chapter 11: I Brought the Pizza

The quinjet ride back to Avengers Tower from Sokovia is quiet. A solemn weight over all of us, dressed in black to honour the sacrifice of Pietro but also the people who lost their lives in the war against Ultron. Wanda wished for him to be buried in Sokovia, at least what is left of it. I can’t imagine what she feels, the loss of her country, the loss of her twin, the loss of her home.

“Bet you can’t wait to get out of here,” Clint sighs, taking a seat next to me.

I see a shift in Wanda’s body language. She tunes into our conversation.

I think it over. I have to find Bucky, especially now that Steve has the Avengers to lead out of this political catastrophe. Even so, I only have an inkling of where to start… My eyes fall to Wanda. I feel compelled to stay for her but not because of her. I feel it deeper than in my head.

“I think I should stay,” I say. I look at Steve who I know hears my decision. “Just for a little while… I can’t just leave you guys in the middle of a crisis.”

Clint smiles sadly. “Well if you put it that way you might never get the chance to leave.”

I chuckle. “You’re probably right.”

“You should get some rest.” Clint pats my shoulder. “You’re not built for this, remember?”

I exaggeratedly roll my eyes as he recalls my words from days ago.

I snuggle up in my chair, bringing my knees up and leaning on the window, shutting my eyes.

The sound of children laughing comes into earshot and warms my heart. With it, the feeling of safety envelopes me.

A house stands in front of me. A classic brownstone, steps leading up to a dark oak door. Potted plants line the large bay windows. Plants that are taken care of. I open the door and step inside.

“Mommy!” A lilted voice calls out.

A little girl runs up to me and jumps into my arms. “Hi sweet girl!” The voice is mine but I’m not the one speaking.

I put her down and she pulls me into the living room. Stuffed toys are arranged around the coffee table, teacups in front of them. I hear a crunch under my shoe and look at the floor. Crayons.

“I drew a picture!”

I see someone enter my periphery.

“I missed you today, doll.” A deep voice that sends shivers through my body says.

I wake up with a blanket over me.

“Hey, sleepy head,” Steve greets. He’s not piloting the jet anymore.

“How long was I out?” I ask, unbuckling myself to stand and stretch my legs.

“Pretty much the whole flight. Lucky you.”

“I had the weirdest dream…” I frown.

“Ladies and gentlemen -and androids, please fasten your seatbelts. We are about to begin our descent to Avengers Compound,” Tony announces as he and Clint pilot the jet.

“You heard the captain,” I say. “Well… co-captain, I guess.” Steve chuckles softly and sits in the seat next to me.

The landing is smooth and we all disembark. I overhear Natasha and Clint talking about Bruce, planning on how to go about tracking him. I doubt that’s even possible considering he took off to literally outer space. 

“I’m gonna miss my old room at the tower,” Steve comments as we take in the sight of the Compound.

“Tony just had this on standby?” I ask.

“It’s been in the works since the New York Invasion. Thought we’d need a proper home base that wasn’t in the middle of the city,” Tony explains. “You know, you can have a room here, too.”

I smile at the rare show of kindness. “I haven’t had dormmates since my time at the SHIELD Academies.”

“I’d love to hear about those days,” Tony smirks.

Kindness over. I roll my eyes instead of dignifying it with a reply.

“Why don’t you just give us the tour, Tony?” Steve suggests.

I fall into step with Wanda as Tony takes us through to the dorms. She’s been quiet the whole time, looking at whatever Tony points to such as the kitchen a Michelin chef would envy, training grounds fit for Olympic athletes, a meditation room which I theorise was meant for Bruce not that that would have done him much good but the thought is there.

“Stark thought of everything, huh?” I say.

She raises her brows in sarcastic agreement. “He’d like to think so.” I feel the slight bitterness hiding in her tone. Deep wounds.

“Men like him always do. But he’s not a bad guy,” I add.

“I read the files. It wasn’t Stark Industries funding the war in Novi Grad… it was HYDRA. But you spend so long hating a name, blaming it for everything bad in your life… it’s hard to just let that go.”

“Maybe you don’t let it go… maybe you just bury it. At least, that’s what I do. In this line of work, it’s important to be able to do that.” It’s not healthy advice but I think we both know that.

Tony offers Wanda a room and I take the one opposite hers. The space is huge, the bed cozy. I flop down onto it, not even caring that I’m in my outside clothes, although a shower sounds like the best idea. I hear the familiar sounds of television floating from across the corridor. Wanda’s room.

A knock sounds on my already open door.

“Stark thought of everything but clothes,” Nat throws me a SHIELD tracksuit. “This is all the jet had. Looks like we’ll be twinning.”

I smirk. “Thanks. We should shop.”

“Just coz we’re all in the same place doesn’t mean you get to relive your college days,” she teases.

“Fine, I’ll just ask Wanda if she’ll accompany me,” I stick my tongue out and she laughs, leaving my doorway. I go into the en suite bathroom and turn the shower on. 

I have a towel wrapped around my hair when I decide to knock on Wanda’s door. I can still hear the TV on.

“Yes?” I hear from the other side.

“Hey… what ya watchin’?” I ask and it’s in no way awkward at all.

“Modern Family.”

“May I join you?”

She just nods. I sit on the bed next to her. She’s still in her clothes but I see a folded pile of the same tracksuit I’m wearing on the desk by the window. 

She’s watching the episode where they’re preparing for their family portrait.

“I know this one, I used to binge watch these when I would train at the Academy gym. It’s easier to focus when I’m watching something instead of listening to music,” I comment but try not to overshare. I look to Wanda to try and gauge what she’s thinking. If I’m annoying her.

I only see a small smile but distant eyes. “I used to watch these shows with my family. We had them on tapes, my father would sneak them in… it’s how we learned English. Pietro would always remind us to speak only in English in the evenings. Whoever would break and speak Sokovian first would do the dishes.”

The fact she shares such heartfelt memories with me makes me smile and I know that all Wanda needs right now is someone to sit and watch with her. So that’s what I do.

The sound of knocking wakes us from the nap we didn’t realise we took mid-watch.

“Pizza’s here,” Steve announces.

Wanda and I look at each other then turn the TV off and make our way to the common room. I rub my eyes, feeling the weight of tiredness on them then they fall on a familiar face.

“Sam,” I smile and go in for a hug.

“Hey you, disgraced SHIELD agent,” he greets, recalling the time Steve and I were effectively on the lam from the government and sought help from him.

“This is Wanda,” I introduce. “She’s a friend. Wanda, this is Sam Wilson. He saved Steve and I.”

She simply nods in acknowledgement and he seems to respect her boundaries. Sam’s good like that; sensitive to the burdens of others. It must come with leading a support group for veterans. 

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I brought the pizza,” he jokes at first then gets serious as we all load up the plates with slices and sides of chicken wings. “I figured it must’ve been rough going through what you guys did back in Sokovia…”

I nod. “It’s hard to talk about.” He would understand that.

“I’m here if you need someone to talk to,” he offers.

“So you’ll be staying?” I ask, hopeful. It’ll be nice to have him around; Sam’s presence feels light.

“Well, Cap was offering the training grounds… go through some drills ya know, for future missions,” he shrugs, but I can see the excitement running through his body.

“You’re an honorary Avenger, Wilson.” It brings a smile to his face.

Staying with the Avengers doesn’t allow much for down time. I wake to the sound of knocking on my door. 

“Wake up, L/N.” It’s Natasha. “Cap’s having us run laps and spar.”

I pull the pillow from under me and put it over my face. “Can’t I pass?”

“Nope,” she calls out and I know she’s already gone. I roll my eyes and then roll out of bed. I tie my hair back and find some training gear, Tony’s staff had stocked up the guest rooms, I didn’t even know he still had people for that.

I leave my room and glance at Wanda’s door. She probably wouldn’t appreciate being woken up at dawn and I’m not about to face her wrath.

“You’re late, L/N,” Steve calls out.

“I’ll live,” I sass back.

I stretch in an effort to warm up and wake up. 

“I’m too old for this,” Clint complains, appearing next to me.

I frown. “Shouldn’t you be with your family?”

“I will, I just had to finish up some reports and Dr Cho wanted to keep me for observation for a couple days.”

Right, the nano-regeneration. I forgot that happened; it feels so long ago.

A whistle blows. “Alright, warm-up time. Line up on the track,” the Captain orders. 

“Is he on some kind of power trip?” I ask no one in particular as we do as he says.

“I told him not to go easy on us,” Sam answers.

I gawk at him. “So this is your fault?”

“You guys are super spies, you’re used to this. I’m a regular Joe. I need to push my limits, I need to be able to keep up.” He raises a fair point. “You were trained by the KGB, you both were trained by SHIELD-“

“You were in the army, like Steve,” Clint raises a brow.

“Oh, come on. I’m nothing like that guy,” Sam defends.

Sam is humble. “I think you’re more like him than you think, Wilson. Don’t ever sell yourself short.”

“Alright, enough chit chat. At the sound of my whistle, you run like hell.” A silence follows where you can only hear the wind then the sound pierces through my ears and my legs take off. Running feels like the closest thing to flying, to freedom. As a spy, I was always on the run from something so it feels good to run for nothing. Nothing but glory, that is. I smirk as I near the line and see a flash of red in my periphery. Too slow, Romanoff.

“We have a winner,” Cap announces. “Good job, L/N.”

“This isn’t fair, she’s younger,” Clint heaves.

I laugh. “Don’t be a sore loser, Clint.”

“Alright, have a water break, then we’re sparring.”

“You gonna be my partner, Falcon?” I ask.

“Actually, I was thinking of having you all fight each other so you can have a range of fighting styles to understand,” Cap explains.

“You really wanna tire us out, huh Cap?”

“Well after, we’ll have breakfast. I think Tony’s setting up a small feast with his private caterers. And yes, I do hear how ridiculously pretentious that sounds coming from my mouth.”

I smirk. “You’ve come a long way from a boy in a Brooklyn brownstone.”

The ache is familiar but not welcome as I trudge to the common room for the breakfast spread promised to us for surviving a Steve Rogers Training Special. 

“I feel like I was maimed. Do you feel maimed?” I ask the nearest person.

“Mhm, yeah that’s one word for it,” Sam answers. “I didn’t like that at all.”

“Imagine if we had to fight Cap after all of that,” we laugh at the absurdity then it dies down because that idea is actually entirely possible. We share a look of fear.

I smell it before I see it. Fresh bread being toasted, eggs, bacon, sausages, herby mushrooms. Then the sweet scent of Danish pastries and croissants.

“Okay, maybe all that was worth it,” Clint comments as he makes a beeline for the food. Natasha smacks his hands before he touches anything. “Ow!” he exclaims.

“Wash your hands first.”

Glancing at the clock, I see it’s just after 9 and I can hear chatter coming from the corridor leading to my room. I follow the noise and while the corridor is still dark, lights flash from under Wanda’s doorway. TV. She’s awake.

I knock softly on the door.

“Yes?”

“Wanda… there’s breakfast, if you want,” I offer. I hear shuffling and the door opens. Her eyes are red and puffy, her nose rubbed raw.

“I’m not hungry but thank you.” She means it. I nod.

“If you want anything at all…” I let it linger. There’s only one thing she wants and no one can give it to her.

She gives a small smile and slowly closes the door but I notice she keeps it ajar.

I catch Steve’s eye as he looks at me expectedly. I shake my head subtly and he knows what I mean by it.

I wash my hands then fix up a plate and sit next to Steve on the bar.

“Dealing with grief… it’s personal. We just have to be there for her when she’s ready.”

“Grief…” Vision repeats. I didn’t even notice him. His cape and suit is gone, he seems to have opted for slacks and a sweater. I wonder when he had the time to go shopping… “Miss Maximoff does not want to break the fast with us because of it?”

“No… she doesn’t have much of an appetite. It’s normal, giving what she’s going through,” Sam adds.

“To grieve is to have loved one so greatly it surpasses the life that was ended,” Vision states and the room is quiet. Heavy.

💜

Chapter 12

lowkey that last line slayed I'm proud of writing that hahaha

comments, reblogs, likes any interactions are appreciated!

[lizamango]

as an mcu fic writer - I do not enjoy writing fight/sparring scenes 🙅🏻‍♀️

[lizamango]

comments save fics 🙌🏼

Fun Story to Share.

I got my (now 18-year-old) daughter into Ao3 back in 2021. I taught her she should always comment - even if the fic looks old or abandoned or whatever. She did.

Well - she got this email this morning:

The fic was written in 2014 and essentially abandoned.

Bethy read and reviewed in 2021 (and was actually the only person who had commented at all).

Today in 2025 - the final chapter was posted by the author and this was her reply to Bethy’s comment.

———

Never question whether a fic is too old to comment on.

[lizamango]

i’m sorry 🫣😅

[lizamango]

Hey!! Are you planing on continuing 'Cruel World'? 👀👉👈

I will!! Just a major writer’s block but I do want to finish it, I have a whole plan for it somewhere in my notes haha Glad you’re enjoying it tho!! 🩵

[lizamango]

i need part 2 😭😭

the casual transition of fwb rough sex w frank castle to him genuinely caring about reader and making love to them

idk idk just the thought of those big hands that are capable of so much violence being so soft and gentle

5 + 1, Frank Castle (Part 1)

masterlist | series masterlist (coming soon)

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

Summary: the five times it was just sex and the one time it wasn’t

Word count: 916 words

Contains: rough smut. use of vibrator. spanking. minimal aftercare.

Notes: I want this to be a series inspired by the format and style like @tuiccim’s topping Steve Rogers series. Tuiccim is an amazing writer and I highly recommend their work. I tried really hard with this but i'm hoping my writing will improve as the series goes on so please be patient with me.

Minors do not interact

Requests are open

not my gif but damn do i love it

Your wrists twist and pull against the binds tying them to the head of your bed. Rope burn starting to set it from your constant movements. Frank’s large frame looms over you from the end of the bed as he marvels at the sight out you.

The hunger in his eyes has you wondering what you signed up for. But no matter what, you come back every time. The light of the city softly creeps into your apartment as your eyes rake over him. The cut and curve of his muscles are only accentuated by the dim lighting. His scars shine with every movement and breathe. The positioning of your head doesn't allow you to look any lower. Something in you is grateful for that.

“Keep starin’ at me like that and I’ll blindfold ya’. I'm not a piece of meat.” Your chest heaves at the joking threat. You analyse his face for any sort of lie but you know better. You know him. “Behave.”

“Yes, sir.” He trails the tip of the vibrator along the length of your legs. The smooth silicon leaves a path of goosebumps in its wake. Swatting your legs apart, he positions himself between them. Placing the wand next to you, his hands gripping your hips. His calloused hands rub small circles before flipping you onto your stomach. The ropes attaching you to the bed head twist, leaving you with even less movement.

A harsh hand lands on the curve of your ass, a yelp escapes you.

"Colour?" His hand soothes the quickly reddening path of skin.

"Green." Another slap lands, sending you forward on the bed slightly.

"Colour." You can hear the irritation rising in his voice at your disrespect.

"Green, sir."

"Atta girl." The slight praise has you keening for his touch. Too lost in your anticipation you don't hear him grab and turn on the wand. You jolt as he presses the head to your core before quickly pulling it away. You whine at the loss.

"You're going to take what I give you, and you're going to be grateful for it. Understand?" A third slap echoes throughout the room. Frank traces the red handprint radiating on your ass. Pride growing in his chest.

He presses the vibrator against you once again. Tracing the tip up and down, just not enough pressure to give you any real pleasure. Biting your lip, you wouldn't dare make a noise. He grabs your hips, hoisting then till you're on your knees. Your pussy glistening in the glow of the city has Frank feeling weak in the knees.

Showing some mercy, he pressed the round head of wand flat against your clit. A low moan emits from your chest as you relax into the mattress. You feel your end nearing quickly, the anticipation of earlier mixed with the constant buzzing has a heat starting to build in your stomach. The muscle in your thighs are starting to burn, knees shaking when Frank pulls it away. He watches you clench around nothing at the loss. Not a sound leaves you.

"Good girl. Doing the bare minimum that I ask for. Do you think you deserve a reward?"

"No, sir. Not for the bare minimum, sir."

"Look at you learning. I think that deserves a reward." Before you can say anything, he leans down, licking a flat stripe up your folds before pressing the wand back to you.

It doesn't take long for you get back to where you had left off. Knees shaking, chest heaving. Your body feels like its on fire as it tips over the edge. Spiralling head first into pure euphoria. You would've collapsed if Frank didn't think to grab your hip with he free hand as wave after wave come crashing over you.

Frank continues to hold the wand against you. Your nerves on end as you come down from one orgasm, straight into a second. Overstimulation already settling deep into your bones and 2 highs turn into 3, then 4. You don't know how long its been or how many times you've came but suddenly it all stops.

Frank discards the wand somewhere on the bed.

"Colour?"

"Green, sir."

"Can you give me one more?" He asks, pressing the tip against you. Time drags as he waits for your answer.

"Y-yeah, sir. I can." That's all he needs before letting go. He sets a brutal pace, hips slapping against you. The hand print still glowing as he ruins you further.

Reaching down, he touches your already too sensitive clit, sending you into a high like no other. Vision going white as a suffocating heat engulfs you. Pulling out, hot white spirts of come covers your back as you collapse onto the bed.

He’s quick to untie you. Checking your face for any signals that you’re not alright before heading into your bathroom. Coming back with a damp wash cloth and a bottle of lotion he found under your sink.

He takes his time, cleaning you up and massaging your sore wrists. Rubbing lotion into the fresh red marks across your body before grabbing his clothes and disappearing into the bathroom once again. He emerges fully dressed with a glass of water in his hand. Helping you sit up, he rubs your back as you finish the glass.

“We should do that again.” Mumbling, he gets up and leaves. Shutting the bedroom door behind him. Leaving you in the silence of your apartment.

Not like its the first time.

[lizamango]

please

everyday I am tempted to write a judson ryder fic. and I know that like 3 people would read it. but everyday I am tempted…

if anyone even knows who this man is please let me know because it’s lonely out here

[lizamango]

might start writing for this fic again… defo long overdue 🙈

Finding You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 10/?

A/N: more of a Wanda friendship chapter, if you’re familiar with Shadowhunters, Isabelle’s whip turns into a staff so that’s what I was going for in this chapter <3

Summary: You’ve been one of SHIELD’s top spies for years but what happens when the organisation you’ve put your trust in crumbles and Captain America gives you a mission to help him find his best friend? The last thing you expected to happen was to fall in love with your assignment and become best friends with a witch.

Taglist  ~ comment or add self to taglist for new chapter updates!

series tags: @buckylokisimp​​, @white-wolf-buckaroo​​, @austynparksandpizza, @markandlexies,  @yaszx​, @justsomecreaturewandering​

All marvel tags: @whoreforbuckybarness @badlandsbrunette​ @xxlovingfandomsxx​  @mattmurdockswh0r3 @bunnyweasley23​ @galacticstxrdust​

Add yourself to my taglist!

Wordcount: 2170

Masterlist

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Warnings: mild swearing

Chapter Summary: The Battle of Sokovia

Chapter 10: I’m Not Leaving Without You

Keep reading

[lizamango]

please please please i need the next part 🥺🧎🏻‍♀️

requiem // part three

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: guys me and bestie got tickets to sabrina's tour and we are SO excited- we're making our outfits and we're putting in the WORK on rhinestoning those i'll keep yall updated

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

By the morning, you were in a much better mood. You woke up early, earlier than usual, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't excited to finally go home. You spent the night crying over the fact that you would very likely be stuck like this, but all you had left this morning was acceptance. It would be nice to finally sleep in your own bed again.

You had cleaned up all the dead flowers, and packed all your notes into a folder by the time the sun made its way into the sky, and your parents arrived shortly after that to pick you up.

They tried to be nice, they really, truly did, but they were disappointed in you. You could see it and feel it in the tense silence that always surrounded the three of you during their "visits". It was awkward, and there was nothing you could do to fill the quiet room.

"Are you ready to go?" Your mother asks, helping gather your bags packed full of clothes and books that remained untouched. You nod, smiling hopefully at her. You follow her out to the hall and down the stairs.

"There's really nothing you can do? You can't operate again?" You hear your father's voice before you see him, and you really wish you hadn't.

"No, I'm sorry, sir. her vocal chords have been reconstructed to the best of our ability, operating again would do more harm than good. It would retraumatize the area and could result in more complications, it would be a miracle if that would even help her voice." The doctor replies. "Her voice may come back naturally, but only time will tell."

You hear your dad sigh as you round the corner, and he smiles at you sadly. "Let's get you home, okay?" He says, placing a hand on your shoulder and taking your bag from you, leading you out to the car.

You walk into your mother's library later that afternoon, a notebook in your hands. You knock gently on the door frame to notify her of your presence. "Yes, dear?" She asks, not looking up from her book. You huff, knocking on the door again and waving to grab her attention.

She looks up this time, realization flashing in her eyes. "Oh, gosh, sorry. I thought you were your father." Lies. "What do you need? You should be resting."

You hold up the notepad in your hands with the prewritten note. 'can you call coryo?'

She takes a moment to read it, brows furrowed. "Coriolanus? You just got home, give him a day off from babysitting you. He probably needs a break."

You frown, quickly flipping the page and writing again.

'he's not babysitting me. we're friends.'

"I understand he's your friend, but sometimes even the best of friends need a break from each other."

You roll your eyes. If you could groan you would. If you could call him yourself, you would.

'I'm 18, if I want to invite my friend over I will. I don't need permission anymore.'

Your mom chuckles, shaking her head as she reads the large print of your note. "Except now, you do. Don't you?"

The best you can do to express your frustration beyond how it shows on your face is to stomp your foot on the ground like a little kid before storming off down the hall. It was all you could do. You would try the same routine with your father.

It didn't work on him either, not that you were surprised. They didn't want company on the day you came home, but that didn't mean they actually wanted to spend time with you apparently.

You holed up in your bedroom, put on your music, and laid in bed staring at the ceiling.

It felt like hours before someone came to free you from your own mind, the silent prayers that you would be able to open your mouth and make a single sound. That didn't mean you had been brave enough to even try yet, though, until there was a knock on the door.

You tried your luck, attempting to call out a quick 'come in!', but nothing came from it besides a scraping pain in the back of your throat. You sigh, rubbing your neck gently in a poor attempt to make the pain go away as you crawl out of bed and go to the door, pulling it open with a scowl on your face.

It settles only slightly when you're met with a member of your family's staff standing there holding out a small, delicate vase containing three roses.

You stare at each other, neither of you able to speak a single word as you take the flowers from her hands. She was a young girl with dark hair, and she had been in your home for a year. You didn't know which District she had come from- it wasn't like she could have given you an answer if you asked. The removal of her tongue ensured that fact.

Occasionally you had wondered what each member of your staff had done to earn their fates, but you liked to theorize. Until now, that is, because the fate you were sentenced to is all but the same, and you had done nothing wrong.

Her eyes widen slightly for just a moment as she looks at the scarred skin across your neck, and then quickly back up to meet your eyes.

Her lips part as if to speak, and you tilt your head slightly at her until she quickly shuts her mouth again. You can see her struggle a bit to swallow as she just gives you a small nod, handing you the card that accompanied the flowers before turning to shuffle back down the hall.

After shutting the door and placing the flowers on your windowsill, you carefully unfold the small envelope and read its contents.

'Something to brighten up your room.

Welcome home.

-Coryo'

Graduation and the accompanying gala were within a week of your return home. You're eternally grateful you spent the time to pick out your dresses months in advance, because if you hadn't, you were sure you wouldn't have gone at all.

Standing behind the stage, your eyes continue to focus over and over again on Coryo in his spot in line. It was much preferred to look out at the audience or on the stage as your other classmates were handed their diplomas and posing for pictures for just a moment before exiting on the other side of the stage.

You had missed the rehearsals while you were in the hospital, so really you were just about to wing it- but still, you didn't want to watch anymore.

You dreaded the silence that would come along with your name being called. Well, silence would be preferable to the exaggerated cheers that were more likely to follow- everyone celebrating your mere act of survival after the school spent weeks scrambling to find someone else to sing the anthem at the beginning of the ceremony.

So looking to your best friend was all you could do to calm the blooming anxiety, cursing the alphabetical organization by last name that kept you apart for the moment.

Then it was your turn that came all too quickly.

You look at him again and he smiles at you, which you return with the fake one you were building for the sake of all the photos about to be taken of you as your heels click across the stage. The cheers that block out the sound while you keep your eyes ahead almost make you want to keel over and vomit right on the black flooring of the stage.

Is it possible for cheers to be full of pity? For an applause to be so... sad?

You'd been on the receiving end of countless rounds of applause before, but none had ever made you so embarrassed.

With flushed cheeks and a performative grin, you shake Dean Highbottom's hand.

"Congratulations." He says, and something behind his eyes for just a moment shows that he is not immune to the infectious pity spreading through the audience. He had never shown much emotion before, and if you weren't so close to him right now, you definitely wouldn't have picked it up at all. "We're happy you're here."

All you can do is nod, swallowing and attempting at a grateful smile as you take your diploma from him in the small red, leather folder.

Holding it up and turning to face the audience, you tilt your head with your signature smile for a beat to give your family (or any reporters interested in your recovery and story) time to take their photos before holding the folder to your chest and taking a small bow.

You allow yourself to pretend that you're okay for just that moment. That this was the end of one of your performances, and for just that one moment with your head down, you could block out the pity that came along with the standing ovation you were now receiving.

You were used to it.

But this isn't at all what you expected your final bow to be. And it hurt.

"Congratulations, Miss." Coryo's voice behind you in the crowd makes you smile, and you turn around to face him.

You roll your eyes with a fond smile on your face, doing the best you can to return the sentiment by poking him in the chest over his red gown a couple of times before pulling him into a hug.

He returns it and you feel his chest move as he laughs, gently rubbing your back before reluctantly pulling away. "Hey, where are your parents?" He asks, looking around the crowded front steps of the academy crowded with other students and their families waiting for rides to the gala.

You thought it was a poor choice in words, calling the graduation after party and dance a "gala" when in fact it wasn't one at all. Where you performed was a gala. Or, where you were supposed to be performing. In your mind it was anyway. Maybe you had it backwards.

You stare at Coryo, waiting for him to look back at you again before you're able to try and explain.

"They left." You mouth out, once his attention was back on you. "Work."

"They left?" Coryo asks, brow furrowing slightly as you nod in confirmation. "They're not coming for the dinner?"

You shake your head. "Busy."

"Well, you're stuck with me then." He smiles, nodding for you to follow after him.

When you walk up to his cousin, Tigris, the only person who was able to come for his sake, you realize you may just make up the saddest and loneliest table at the whole event. All your classmates had at least their parents, but most also had extended family members and friends as well. Crowded tables, loud chatting, lots to say and lots to celebrate. You had... less of that. Less talking, in particular.

And once again, you were right.

You tried to enjoy your dinner while many people went out of their way to come and pat you on the back and congratulate you on your graduation- and it just felt patronizing.

Coryo watched it all go down from the seat across from you at the table, staring at classmates and parents as they stopped to talk to you, knowing damn well you wouldn't respond. He hated every minute of it.

The frustration burned behind your eyes like a freshly struck match every time someone tapped your shoulder over the beautiful graduation dress you had asked for his opinion on months ago, the very same one that matched the rose pinned to the lapel of his jacket.

'Why couldn't they comment on that instead? Say you looked beautiful? Or say nothing at all?' He thought.

You couldn't even do a thing about it besides giving people awkward tight-lipped smiles and fake appreciative nods.

"Have you seen the state of her?" Livia says to her friends as you're walking by, and instinctively you drop your head. "I mean, it looks so bad, I'm surprised she would ever show her face in public again."

Coryo's arm that's linked with yours tightens its grip, and he has to be the one to look over.

"Wait, Coriolanus, you were there, were you not?" Persephone grabs his attention when she notices the two of you walking by.

The two of you freeze, sharing a look. Both roughly translating to "Are they fucking serious?"

He clears his throat. "Excuse me? Do you have absolutely no manners at all, I really do not think that-" His gaze flicks between you and the girls from your class as he speaks, preparing to scold them for being so incredulously rude.

Their eyes all go wide simultaneously. "No! Oh, goodness, we're not talking about you, Y/N!" Livia defends quickly and takes a small step closer, looking genuinely mortified by the confusion. "Clemensia. We're talking about Clemmie."

"Oh." Coryo says at the very same time your lips form the same word you couldn't speak.

Sure, they were talking about your classmate this time, but you were not foolish enough to guess they hadn't had a similar conversation about you when you weren't present. Unless they had more pity for your situation, which may very well be worse.

"We were wondering if you knew what happened, you were the last one with her before she got this... 'illness' that has apparently turned her half snake."

Your eyes go wide at Persephone's explanation, and you look frantically between them and Coryo. He had never told you anything about this, and he knew it was his job to keep you updated on all the petty and worthless gossip going on at your school while you were away.

You smack his arm a few times, eyes pleading for him to please explain what they were talking about, as the girls watched you with amused and slightly sympathetic smiles.

"Oh, well..." He hesitates noticeably, shaking his head dismissively. "I didn't... as far as I know she just fell ill."

He was lying and you knew it. You could feel his muscles tense around your arm.

"Oh, really? So, you and Clemmie go to the Citadel to speak with Dr. Gaul, and she is never seen again without scales and you just claim... nothing weird happened?" Livia asks, clearly not buying it either.

He gives a resigned sigh, looking around briefly. "I am not meant to discuss it." He explains quietly. "But... I honestly do not know. She brought us both into a room separately to discuss the contents of the proposal. I went first, and they instructed me to not wait for her. If something happened, I was not made a witness."

The girls seem a little disappointed with this answer, but only for a moment. It was believable enough to them.

"I mean, it's human experimentation- obviously." Livia says with a shrug, bringing her glass up to her lips. "I really don't put it past the doctor, she is deranged at the best of times."

"Ooh, yes, maybe she wanted to see if she could give a human a pit organ- maybe Clemmie can see heat now. Or smell with her tongue." Persephone giggles in a whisper, leaning in so only the three of you were privy to her joke.

You tilt your head, and immediately your mind is running a mile a minute. If Dr. Gaul could alter someone's DNA enough to turn them partially into an animal, she could easily reconstruct your vocal cords... Right?

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[lizamango]

Part 3!

Cruel World 2/? (Brainwashed Black Widow!Reader x Steve Rogers)

summary: A war between SHIELD and HYDRA rages on in the shadows of the world. You live for the kill as a Black Widow until you discover Steve Rogers, the weapon for the opposing side who makes you question the side you’ve been fighting for. (inspired by Underworld, just go with the lore on this fit pls)

warnings: smut later, cussing, canon typical violence

wordcount: 1425

Part 1

I decide it would be safer for Steve to stay on the ground while I deal with the repercussions of “disobeying” Rumlow’s orders.

“You know, I can handle myself.”

“I can’t just bring in a stranger. You’ll get thrown into a cell-“

“A cell?” he interrupts. “Geez.”

“So stay here. Please.”

“I just think it would be good for you to have back up.”

I walk towards him, forcing him to take a couple steps back towards the barred radiator.

“Steve…” I look up into his eyes. His dreamy blue eyes that, in the dark of the night, look like the sky full of stars. I lift my hand to his cheek and press my lips to his, softly at first. He immediately springs to action, kissing me back. I feel alive as he kisses me, his warm breath on my cheek as he tries to tease my lips open.

He pulls back suddenly at the cold contact of the metal. Looking down he frowns. “What are you doing?”

I smile up at him though it’s more of a smirk. “So you don’t go anywhere.”

He tugs at the cuffs. “Fuck.”

I leave the cabin and make my way to the Red Room.

The greeting is less than warm as soldiers find me and escort me to the hall where Rumlow is pacing.

“How dare you defy me.” He orders everyone out. “Embarrass me! Everyone knows that I am in charge here, how could you disrespect me? I had plans for us.”

“Rumlow, when are you gonna get it through your brain? There is no us and there never will be.”

“Why did you spend a night out there? Did you find what you were looking for?”

I think back to how Rumlow’s allegiance is to Schmidt and how he lied to everyone about killing Captain America. “No, I didn’t.”

“So I was right.”

I can’t help rolling my eyes.

“Get yourself cleaned up. Schmidt will be here tonight to awaken Pierce.”

I leave the hall. “Zasranets,” I whisper to myself. Asshole. I walk towards the Cryochambers. It’s time to put an end to this.

The guard looks up at me as I enter. “Melina is looking for you.” He nods and leaves. I’m still trusted.

I lock the doors and disable the cameras from the control centre the guard just abandoned. Sitting at the machine I feel as though I am committing treason, which I suppose I am. To my knowledge no one has attempted cerebral messaging to reanimate cryogenic suspension other than our three leaders: Dreykov, Schmidt and Pierce. This requires training and discipline of the mind. Skills I have not refined. Cerebral messaging allows the former leader to pass down their memories of their term to the next leader to rule for a decade and the cycle continues. They planned this to prevent usurpers and to keep the peace among the faction. This cycle has not been broken. Until me.

“My Lord, please forgive me. I desperately need your guidance. I apologise for waking you ahead of your time but I fear the power is in the wrong hands. You may be in danger if left in cryo… I believe that Schmidt lied about killing SHIELD’s Prize for he is alive and well. I also believe SHIELD to be more organised than ever before as they were the ones to find him. I hope that when you wake, you will believe me and set things right.” I leave the machine and disable the cryogenic chamber, turning the cameras back on and exit without a trace. I decide to pick up some clothes that would fit the Captain on my way back to my quarters.

“Sestra!” I turn back and see Yelena. “Big problem.” She grabs my arm and speed walks me in the direction I was going in anyways.

“What?” I ask annoyed.

“Please tell me why I found a golden retriever wandering the grounds looking for you? What did you do?”

“Fuck.” I open my doors and see Steve sat on my ottoman looking through a book.

He stands up startled as he sees me. “I- I broke out of the handcuffs.”

I cross my arms and raise a brow. “I can see that.”

“Wow, he looks even better in the light,” Yelena comments.

“This is Yelena, one of my sisters. Widow. Yelena, this is Grant.” I lie. I’ve never lied to one of them, omitted a truth or kept information classified but never a lie.

Steve goes along with it. “Hi,” he smiles in his charming way.

“You can leave us now, Sestra.”

Yelena rolls her eyes and groans. “Fine, you’re both just boring.” With the door closed I inhale sharply and look at Steve disapprovingly.

“What are you doing up here?! How did you even- actually, I don’t want to know.”

He starts with saying my name so seriously it’s a jarring contrast to how he acted while Yelena was here. “Why is there HYDRA insignia all over this place?” he asks in a grave tone.

“You shouldn’t have come here, Steve. I - I left you down there because I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

“Understand? Understand that you’re the evil! HYDRA started the war-“

I shake my head almost to the point where it hurt. “You’re wrong. You don’t understand. You don’t know what you’re talking about, they’ve lied to you.”

“No. It’s you they’ve lied to.”

“You’ve been asleep for 70 years, I hardly think you have any right making such outrageous claims,” I shut him down and open my closet, stocking up on Widow’s bites, bullets and bigger guns. I throw the clothes I collected at him. They’re more appropriate tactical gear rather than having him run around in jeans and a tee, James Dean style. “Put these on.” He changes in front of me and I distract myself with the armoury. “Schmidt will be arriving here tonight, we don’t want to be the ones caught off guard.”

“You’re bringing me with you? You’re going to trust me? After what I just told you.”

“You’ve told me nothing, you’ve just made a bunch of nonsense up and I blame being frozen for decades. Now come on.”

“I’m starting to notice a pattern where I just follow you wherever you tell me to go…” he whispers.

“As you should. You wouldn’t make it out of here alone.”

We sneak off back to the quinjet, avoiding the guards since I know their rotations like the back of my hand. Firing up the quinjet I take off.

“We have to get somewhere Schmidt won’t find us. Somewhere he doesn’t know about…” I say more to myself but I know Steve is thinking.

“New Jersey. The barracks I used to train at.” He stands from his seat. “Let me pilot.”

I look up at him skeptically but I give him the controls. “If you think I’m so evil, why aren’t you trying to fight me?”

“I don’t think you are.”

His answer makes me frown.

“It’ll take a couple of hours for Dreykov to fully wake and get his strength. We’ll need to lay low before then.”

Steve just nods. “I never thought I’d see Johann Schmidt again.”

When I really think about it, Steve was actually there but he’s telling a completely different story to the history we’ve been taught. I shake the thoughts out of my head. Treason. If anything, this is Schmidt’s doing…

“You should get some rest,” Steve says.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I snap stubbornly but he only chuckles. I walk to the passenger seats behind the cockpit and take off my jacket, rolling it up as a pillow. Sleep comes shortly but not without the company of nightmares.

***

Johann Schmidt’s stronghold is based in Germany so his travel to the Red Room is arduous. As such, he does not expect to be met with news of rebellion.

“Tell Commander what you told me,” Rumlow states as he pushes Melina to the ground. Widows are lined up in the gathering hall.

“There has been talk of treason, Commander,” Melina whispers but Schmidt hears loud and clear. “Talk of America’s Prize being alive and well.”

“Lügen! Wer spricht von diesen Lügen?” he spits out like venom. Who speaks of these lies?

Rumlow answers with a name.

“Dreykov’s experiment?” Schmidt enquires.

“Yes, Commander.”

Schmidt clenches his jaw. “You are all dismissed.” As the Widows leave, Rumlow believes he is the exception to stay.

“Commander, what are you going to do?”

“Set course for Serbia.”

“Yes, Commander.”

🖤

please comment any feedback i beg

[lizamango]

Cruel World 3/? (Brainwashed HYDRA!Reader x Steve Rogers)

summary: A war between SHIELD and HYDRA rages on in the shadows of the world. You live for the kill as a Black Widow until you discover Steve Rogers, the weapon for the opposing side who makes you question the side you’ve been fighting for. (inspired by Underworld, just go with the lore on this fic pls)

Part 1 ~ Part 2

warnings: smut later, canon typical violence

word count: 2564

“This is the camp where I was trained,” Steve states as he lands the quinjet.

“Has it changed much?”

“A little,” he murmurs. I look at him as his tone changes. His eyes are distant, jaw clenched. He’s reminiscing.

“It must be tough,” I start and he looks at me to continue. “Being alive when everyone you know is gone.”

“You would know about that, wouldn’t you?” he responds with the words I used earlier.

“I guess so. One fell swoop.” A silence falls upon us and I pace through the base. An American base. I never thought I’d come here of all places, out of my own free will. “Once Dreykov wakes, he’ll set everything right.”

“You have so much faith in him,” Steve states but it was more of a question. He’s asking why.

“Wouldn’t you? If someone saved you from certain death, wouldn’t you believe in them? He has treated me like his own,” I defend.

“You say that the cycle has never been broken before. What will happen to you once all this is over?”

“I’ll be judged before our council,” I hold back.

“And then?” Steve raises a brow, sensing there was more.

“I’ll probably be executed.”

His heart drops, I can practically hear it. He turns sharply and stalks towards me. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he asks incredulously.

I shrug indifferently. “Those are our rules.”

He starts breathing heavily, shaking his head. “You can’t be okay with this? How can you just accept that? I won’t allow it-“

I chuckle. “Steve, you have no authority. This is the life I’ve chosen.”

“You haven’t chosen anything. They’ve indoctrinated you into a program, used you, all the Widows as their weapons. As if you’re not even people, just a means to their ends.” He puts his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look into his eyes.

“You’re making grave conclusions for someone who doesn’t know our ways.”

“I don’t need a fucking handbook, I’ve seen and heard enough.”

“You’re being ignorant, Steve. Don’t forget that we are not on the same side.”

“No,” we’re not, I expect him to say. “You’re being naive.”

I roll my eyes. “If you think so terribly of our ways then-“

“I’m not going to leave.” This man just loves to interrupt.

“Why not? I don’t need you anymore, Steve. My memories have enough evidence that you are alive. I need only to wait for Dreykov’s awakening and then we can take down Schmidt.”

He says my name in an almost defeated tone. “You need me,” he says simply. “I’m the only one who has your back in all of this. Not your sisters, not your Dreykov. Not even yourself.”

I cross my arms. “And how is that?”

“There’s a knife in your back and you don’t want to pull it out. You don’t even know it’s there.” His words cut deep but I try to shrug them off. He knows nothing. I look back at him and see his eyes have shifted to something behind me. He has a frown on his face though different to the one he was sporting when he was lecturing me.

“What?”

“Army regulations forbid storing ammunition within five hundred yards of the barracks,” he states. He walks towards a building and breaks open the lock. “This building is in the wrong place.”

We walk inside, my gun drawn. I spot the insignia painted on the wall. “This is SHIELD,” I accuse and point the gun at him. “You took me to a SHIELD facility?”

“I didn’t know, I promise you.”

“I knew not to trust you.”

“I am the only one you can trust right now,” he exclaims. “I am the only one who hasn’t lied to your face. So go ahead. Shoot me.” He steps closer so that the gun is resting right between his eyes. “If you don’t trust me, fucking shoot me. Get rid of the only person who’s trying to help you while everyone else is trying to kill you.”

I examine him.

“Kill me or believe me, that’s your choice.”

I withdraw my gun. “You’re so dramatic.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” he answers.

I clench my jaw.

We enter a room with three portraits. Heads of SHIELD, I assume.

“That’s Howard Stark,” Steve says.

“Stark Industries,” I comment. “I’ve seen that logo on weapons HYDRA uses.”

Steve frowns. “That makes no sense, Howard wouldn’t work for HYDRA.”

Are you so sure, Captain? I think to myself. “Who’s the girl?”

“Nobody,” he replies too quickly. He turns away from me and walks down the room, spotting a bookshelf. His eyes scan through each shelf. “If you’re already working in a secret office, why do you need to hide the elevator?” He pushes a shelf and they part to reveal elevator doors.

“After you,” I state.

We both descend to the only floor available and turn the lights on to find a room full of old computers.

Somehow the computers jump to life. Must all be connected to the power.

“Captain Steve Rogers,” a voice calls out.

“Who’s there?” I respond, gun drawn.

“Calm yourself, Widow.” A face appears on the screens of the computers.

“Arnim Zola,” Steve states.

“You know him?” I ask.

“Scientist who worked under Schmidt.”

“How do I not know you?” I question.

“There is much you do not know, Dreykov’s experiment.”

“And yet you know me.”

“HYDRA was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. What we did not realize, was that if you try to take that freedom, they resist. The war taught us much. Humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly. For seventy years HYDRA has been secretly feeding crisis, reaping war. And when history did not cooperate, history was changed.” Flashes of past news headlines and TV footage are shown on the screens as Zola speaks. Assassinations carried out by Assets or Widows. Facilities burning. “HYDRA created a world so chaotic that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security. Once the purification process is complete, HYDRA's new world order will arise. We won, Captain. You work with one of HYDRA’s most formidable Widows, your death for naught.” Steve punches the computer screen only for Zola to appear on another. “Alas, your affiliation with Dreykov’s experiment has made her a liability, no longer to be trusted.”

I frown. Excommunication? “Why do you keep calling me that?”

Zola states my full name as he did with Steve. “Family slaughtered in Odessa, adopted by Dreykov into the Black Widow program to serve this war. You who are so special that he kept you and your abilities a secret. He read that your DNA had the key to a serum stronger than that of Erskine’s. The power to activate a dormant gene in homo superiors, millennia’s worth of evolution, cut down to mere hours.”

“That is not true.”

“Oh?”

“I think I would know if I was experimented on. I’ve never healed as fast as Steve until…”

“The serum gave you abilities while your x-gene remained dormant, until a gross traumatic injury which otherwise would have killed you activated this mutation. It’s epigenetics, Widow.”

The gunshot wound.

“Why are you telling us all of this?” Steve asks.

“Because I’m stalling.”

The ground begins to rumble and all the computer screens shut down. Steve and I look at each other. I access the quinjet’s sentry mode through my communicator which detects a person. An Asset. My blood runs cold. Fuck.

“We have to get out of here.”

Steve finds an opening in the ground and we escape from under the building. I spot the Asset as he aims for us. Steve pushes us to the ground.

“Who is that?” he grunts. I hand him a gun.

“Get to the quinjet,” I say to him. I look back and squeeze my trigger. “It’s armed with machine guns. Shoot to kill.”

I hear Steve say my name but I ignore his calls as I run towards our enemy. Once upon a time I would have seen him as my ally.

I dodge the spray of bullets and jump up on a humvee, kicking him from the chin. He stumbles back as I land, pulling a knife out of one of my holsters. I slash at him but he counters my moves, blocking them with his metal arm then flinging the knife away. I used to be glad to have that metal arm on my side. His steel fingers grasp my throat and push me until my back hits the humvee but I grab another knife and stab it into his thick thighs with enough force to penetrate his reinforced combat trousers. I hear him grunt behind his mask but I slip from under him, rolling under the humvee. As I run towards the quinjet which is now in the air I hear him kick the humvee out of his way. Fuck. A spray of bullets forms a wall between the Asset and I as I climb up the ramp of the jet but not before I shoot my handgun, the bullet ricochets from the bulletproof lens of his mask. I enter the cockpit to see the Asset remove his mask.

“Steve you have a clear shot,” I say but he stares at the Asset, now with his mask off.

“Bucky?”

The Asset points his grenade launcher at us.

“Steve if you won’t take the shot, I will.” I walk towards the trigger but Steve pulls the jet up so I stumble and the Asset misses. “What are you doing?!” I exclaim.

“We’re not killing him,” Steve says with finality. He flies the jet away from the base.

“He’ll catch up to us,” I shake my head as I sit down. “He’ll find us and he’ll kill us, Steve you don’t know him-“

“I do.”

“What do you mean?” I notice he puts the jet on autopilot.

“I’ve known him all my life,” he turns his seat around and looks up at me. How could he possibly…

“James,” I realise. I scoff at how convenient and absurd this all is. “Schmidt takes your best friend and turns him into our most formidable Asset. This is bullshit.” I start to pace. “So there’s no way you’ll kill him but he won’t stop until he kills us. Isn’t that just perfect?” I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind.

“I thought I lost him… But I’ll get him back.”

“It’s not that simple,” I tell him.

“Why? He probably just didn’t see me. Once he does, he’ll stop coming after us.”

I shake my head desperately. “No, Steve. He won’t know who you are.” I sit in the chair next to him. “Assets… have no memory of their past lives. They’re not like Widows, they come from a different kind of clean slate.”

I expect to see him looking at me with disgust. How could I be okay with this happening to people around me? But he doesn’t. Steve only looks determined. “Then we’ll find a way to get his memories back.”

“Odessa,” I say. Before explaining, I enter the coordinates . “There’s an abandoned HYDRA facility, a scientist specialising in cerebral reprogramming-“

“Brainwashing,” Steve corrects.

I nod. “Brainwashing- he was based there until SHIELD came and tried to take him away. He was labelled a traitor so he was executed. That’s our only clue.”

“How do you know about this?” Steve questions.

“Dreykov trusted me with everything… A Widow defected from us, she was the one to try to take the scientist.”

Steve frowns. “A Widow?”

“Natalia Romanova. She tried to kill Dreykov.” The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Just imagining Dreykov dead along with my family… I would never have survived that night without him.

“How do… how do you know that Dreykov doesn’t have something to do with all this?”

I turn sharply to face him. “Don’t. There’s no way.”

“I’m just saying-“

“Steve, he saved my life. He took me in. He didn’t have to do that but he did.” He saved me in more ways than I can count.

“I’m not saying these things are related-“

“I’m not gonna listen to this, Steve.”

“Like you didn’t listen to me about HYDRA?”

I close my eyes and exhale shakily. “Steve, I mean it.”

“You’re only fighting me because you have doubts now too! Just face it, Dreykov is HYDRA, HYDRA feeds crises, reaps war, takes away freedom! I mean look at you!” he exclaims. “You had blind faith in this organisation, you and your Widow Sisters! They’ve got you all buying into the lie that they care about you while they send you on missions to kill innocent people all while not giving a shit about you when you’re no longer useful to them!” He stalks closer towards me.

“You’re. Wrong.” I glare at him and if looks could kill…

“I need you to face reality.” He looks at me so sincerely that my eyes sting. Why does he have to look like he cares so much? Why couldn’t he just be what I’ve been led to believe SHIELD is? It would be so much easier to hate him. I sense hesitation in his expression as tears threaten to expose how hurt I feel. He’s turned my whole world upside down in a matter of days… “I need you to…” he trails off, his eyes flickering from mine down my face to my shuddering lips.

I bite them to control the trembling but I hear Steve sigh.

“Need me to what?”

“I need you to open your mouth.” His voice is somehow deeper.

I gulp before doing as he says. His lips crash onto mine, his tongue exploring my mouth, almost fighting with mine. Our lips move in tandem, as if we didn’t even need to think about it. One of Steve’s hands rests on my cheek and I hear him inhale deeply as if taking me in. As if to devour me. I would let him.

His other hand is on my waist but it slowly snakes to the dip in my back and he presses me closer to his body. So close that I feel a hardness against my belly. I gasp and slowly pull away in surprise at the growing bulge and he sucks on my tongue as we part. The tear that had been slowly building finally fell down my cheek but he brushes it off with his thumb. He rests his forehead on mine.

“I’m sor-“

It’s my turn to interrupt him as I stop his apology with a tug on his blonde messy hair. I pull his head back with it to expose his neck and I place a gentle kiss on his pulse point. Steve sighs. I feel his heartbeat on my lips, his scent musky with sweat and smoke fills my senses. He’s all around me and all over me. He’s in me. I give his neck a long teasing lick, ending up at his ear. I tug on his lobe with my teeth and he chuckles.

“Have you ever fucked someone on a jet before?” I whisper into his ear, I just know that my voice travelled through him, gracing parts of him I could never physically touch.

He shakes his head at my question. “But I’m about to.”

🖤🖤

smut in the next chapter ✨