#Steve stop getting pinned to walls by other men challenge

[foxwritesstuffsometimes]

The fact that Steve’s been acting sus with dudes the whole show and people only just noticed when Eddie came along is funny to me, think y’all need to get your gaydar checked on

[thefanbasewhore]

The Weeping.

Prompt no. 4 from @wkemeup 's 9k challenge! - Character A is being held hostage. Character B offers to trade themselves in A's place.

master list || tag list

Summary || After you're taken from a mission, Bucky offers himself in order to insure your safety.

Paring || Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word count || 1,660

Warnings || abduction (kidnapping??), violence, gun-fire, mentions dead bodies and blood, angst.

Side note || clear eyes is Bucky and yours way of saying everything is okay and this is shorter then I intended it to be, I didn't have a lot of time to write it, so if it seems rushed, I'm sorry.

The mission was supposed to be simple - a quick in and out, retrieve the information and burn that place to the ground but even that seemed unattainable at the moment.

Bullets whiz through the air, penetrating the barrier of sound that make Bucky's ears ring. To anyone else it is frightening, usually follows screams of terror but it's something he lives for, the only familiar sound to stay with him constantly through the years. Adrenaline makes his body visibly tremble, chest conforming to laboring breath in order to stay quiet. Those crystal blue orbs narrowing, fine wrinkles bunch on the skin of his forehead as he nods towards you, on the opposite side of the room but still in his peripheral vision.

He nods once more - just to ensure that the hallway is clear. His heart is thumping against his chest right along with your own, fingers clenched the butt of your to bring it closer to your chest, raising it as Bucky moves in front of you with his own. The walls are splattered with red, fresh blood as you maneuver through the corpses' that lifelessly scatter the floors and the dark hallway seems almost endless, except the flickering light at the end of it. With every muffled gunshot it turns into darkness only to be unexpectedly brought to life again. "Stay low.." Bucky whispers as he follows your stance - back against the wall and a free hand reaching for the spare knife hidden in both of your boots but not before he extends his arm and fingers grasp the buckle across your chest with a gentle but meaningful pull, "Clear eyes?" "Clear eyes." Bucky nods softly as the cool vibranium finger sculpts the structure of your jaw with twinkling eyes. "Be careful in there, okay? You need anything --." He taps the shell of his ear with two fingers, and you nod in understanding. With one last glance Bucky turns towards the double doors, a hand pressing against the handle as he uses his body weight to push it open with ease and the moment he does more gunfire echoes the walls of the room. A sudden blur of motion catches his attention as his breath hitches as his arms wrap around you as bullets whiz through the air, only inches away from piercing your skin. Bucky uses the other door as cover as metal bullets ricochet. Smaller fingers clench into his flesh arm, forming indentations of small crescent moons as a means to seek cover. Bucky's arms wrap around you pulling you into his chest to shield you from any stray bullets but the heavy door behind his back is a strong enough metal to take the blunt force of the bullets without breaking through. His soothing hands find your hair, breathing heavily as he angles your face to meet his eyes. "Are you okay?" Your throat tightens at his worried expression but nods to confirm you were not hit. Bucky nods back, eyes setting in a hard line as he keeps you between his legs but peers over the threshold of the floor but a warning short from around the corner bounces off the walls. "Fuck." Bucky whispers as he reaches into the pocket of his tactical pants, but you don't need to look to see what he's got. "I'll go up the stairs, you go to the right." He pulls the pin out, rolling it into the room and waits until a thick, white cloud of smoke fills the hall, with one last nod he pulls his glasses down, fingers tapping the side as they click to life. You follow behind, gun raised in the air as you follow through sweeping the rather large room. The smoke is thick - suffocating, throat closing due to the inadequate amounts of oxygen, but you swallow the ball in the back of your throat while trying to maneuver through it, the glasses didn't help much. Footsteps cause you to jump, turning in every direction but the cloud is too thick and they near closer following along with your frantic motions to protect yourself with a mixture of anxiety and fear coarse through your veins. Something is mumbled to your right but it's too late, two rather large hands roughly grab at your hair, pulling it into a tight fist as another set of hands catch your leg - pulling into your fall onto the ground, hitting your head hard enough that dark, round dots cloud your vision. Before you could even manage to move - the cool surface of a blade touches your neck and your raise your hands in surrender as the weight of the man moves to crush your chest, face still veiled behind the white smoke. Without a word he turns you around, pressing your cheek against the floor with a rough hand as he pats down your suit, pulling the knives out with a snarl as his friend picks up your gun. 'Sweetheart, where are you?' Bucky's voice is muffled from the fact that the man's hand presses against it, but it vibrates his skin and it's yanked from your ear and crushed between two fingers. When the smoke dissipates the man brings you

to your knees, hands wrapped around your wrists with an unforgiving knee digging into your spine. "If you want her alive, come out now." A thick, foreign accent bounces off the walls of the room as the hand tightens, the other goon on your right holds your gun up as a blur moves in the corner of your eyes. Bucky's eyes meet yours in a panic as he rounds the corner, raising his gun to the man that holds your hair which only causes him to say something in a foreign language, digging the knife into your throat until it stings with pain. Every ragged breath the sharpened blade nicks the thickest column of your neck. "Let her go." Bucky hisses through clenched teeth, jaw clenching as seafoam eyes darken like the night sky. The man smiles evilly, a sick grin that reaches his eyes, makes Bucky's stomach drop inside his stomach as he twirls the knife around a dirty, unmanicured finger. "Didn't think we'd recognize you with that haircut, Soldat?" The skin of your neck burns as a yelp of pain fills the room, blood smears his fingers and invades your senses and the words make Bucky's eyes narrow, squeezing them shut at the words. The smell of smoke, gunfire and metallic make your head spin as Bucky lowers the gun to the ground, hands raised in the air. "Take me, let her go." "What use do we have for you now, Soldat? You are no longer our winter soldier; they have rid you of that." The man's sick chuckle causes him to shake his head, eyes wild with paralyzing fear. "That's not true - I feel him, he's still in here." He pauses, guilty eyes flicker to your own and back up the to man's, "Just let her go, don't hurt her." "No, no." You manage to mumble, tears stinging the waterline of your eyes as you grit your teeth in pain, he never lets the pressure of the knife go as you try to suppress a shiver. Bucky lowers his head with shame, in complete defeat as he lowers to his knees and moves the gun further away. "He's still in here. You can get him out. Take me instead of her, please." "Stop, no!" Eyes of guilt refuse to meet your own, the secret you have known all along and Bucky's urge to smother the winter solider completely blinded him from the fact that this could happen someday. It's been years since he's been so called 'freed' but some roots are so deep they can't be removed, the inside of his brain still tainted with the dark soldier who refuses to stop haunting him after all this time. "Bucky don't you fucking do it!" Bucky ignores the calls, squeezing his eyes shut with emotion. It's not fair, all those years spent brainwashed, tucked away inside his own brain just to end up there again. He barely survived the trauma then but now - he would never be able to, not without Steve, without the Wakandian's again. "Walk towards me, slowly." The other man commands as Bucky nods an understanding to stand on his feet but pauses as the knife presses into your skin more, "Let her go first." The instant the knife is gone is relief, hand reaching up to rub the burning skin and smear blood against your gloved hand and along your neck. Roughly the knee against your back pushes you from the position of on your knees to leaning against the man for support as his arm crosses against your chest, hand crushing the windpipe of your neck. "I will count to three and you both will walk, you towards me, her out the door. Got it?" With every number your heart pounds inside your chest, face turning red due to the harsh grasp at the surface of jaw as a cough follows suit, chest greedy for oxygen as he releases. Bucky takes the first step forward, edging you closer with his eyes that leave little room for argument. Close, slow steps until both yours and his arm brush against each other The fat of your bottom lip quivers as he leans forwards, hands still raise obediently in the air to press his forehead against your own. "Buck -." "Promise me, you won't come look for me." It is rushed as the men in front of him yell but inaudible as you shake your head as tears push past eyelashes. "I mean it, forget about me, they'll never stop. Okay? No

matter how much I try, they will never leave me alone." "How could you say -." There's a rough tug on his hand, pushing him forward but he uses the last second, he can spare to press one more heartbreaking kiss against your lips and before you could comprehend what coming next - a burning, red-hot pain radiates at the base of your skull and numbing darkness consumes you.

tags: @sugarpunch-princess, @old-enough-to-know-better73, @maxsaturdayhatesnarwhals, @Fajitasandfics, @devilswaldorf, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123, @grubler, @SodDy030, @agent-catfish-kenobi,@scarletglowss, @abitchforbarnes, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @jewishdelis, @klorpski, @kaitieskidmore1, @peterpstuff, @akaaaaashiiii, @angelsandsorcery, @moony-is-bae, @yliumy, @watermelonsponge, @stolenxkissess, @peakascum, @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme, @crvecem, @likealadygodiva, @harrysthiccthighss, @burnerbitchh, @sergeantjamesbbarnes, @amelia-song-pond

[fictionalcharacters4life]

The Silent Yet Deadly

Word Count: 1,955

Status: Not Requested!

Fandom: Dead By Daylight

A/N: First writing for this blog! Yay!

Relationship: "Wraith"/Philip Ojomo x Gender Nuetral Reader

Summary: He's always there. Listening. Watching. Admiring. You had grit and a will to live. He, on the other hand, had a curse and a weapon; with only one true intention, to kill every possible survivor without remorse. But what is it about you that makes him almost...reluctant...to do his duty? Why does he feel different when you just simply do as you're told, the same as he?

Warnings: character death, blood mentions, killing, threatened/forced to survive, torture, (it's Dead By Daylight, all this happens naturally lol)

Taglist:@intersellars-the-alien-of-human @snapessecretdiary

Masterlist Dead By Daylight Masterlist

{gif is not mine, credits go to google}

As the darkness fades into a dim outdoors, you stand with an always apparent feeling of fear. You know the feeling like the back of your hand, yet you always push it to the back of your mind, the intent on surviving a stronger alternative than the dim dread that swallows you whole all the time. Looking around, you recognize where you are, the familiar ship seen in the far distance: The Pale Rose of the Backwater Swamp; or what was the Backwater Swamp anyways, the water long gone and replaced by a wet and slushy mud.

Upon arrival, you had taken notice to the unfortunate souls, cursed and trapped under the will of the Entity; forcing them to be tied to each other like a vice, the only probability of survival held within each of their own determination, will to live, and skill sets.

 The only woman tied with your team was Meg Thomas: quiet, swift, smart, and gifted with remarkable sight. She can see the auras of chests, and if you aren’t quick enough, the auras of your team once one of you are pinned to the most wretched beats of them all: the hooks. She’s quick.

One of the two men, Steve Harrington, was the youngest of your team. He had some experience, the Demogorgon being his most famous fan...and killer. Steve wasn’t too far off from skills though: the ability to stop the bleeding of a once hooked survivor, an extended time of struggle on the hook, heroic choice of healing a teammate out of one state in exchange for his own, and one of the basics, the aura of chests. He’s valiant.

As for the other man, Jake Park, contains some of the stronger personal abilities. He has the ability to meditate for a moment, numbing some of his pain in order to keep going, offers a peaceful calm to crows and not alerting them when in his presence, revealing the auras of hooks whist a survivor is carried, and a higher chance in pulling himself off a hook without help. He’s peaceful.

As for yourself, you are more of a physic. In the past, you were a cop in the workforce, one of the best at that. You have the heightened sense of presences, auras, and danger. It came with the job, but you, most of all, could feel anything quicker. This, luckily, had transferred with you once you were consumed into the Entity’s everlasting cage of fear, pain, and anxiety. Your perks were the auras of the other survivors at all times, burst in speed, the view of close-by generators, and, albeit challenging, the ability to sense them. The killers that is. But, it comes with a cost, they can see yours as long as you can see theirs. You’re transcendental...otherworldly in a sense.

Shaking out the kinks and jitters, you make your move. Staying close to the outer ring of the map had always been the easier route for you. It provided minimal leverage for sneak attacks or running away, but it did provide better sight and a clearness to concentrate on auras. So, you cling to the closest border, the thick concrete walls standing tall in defiance, electric fencing attached at the top to make it even more menacing. To your left, a generator was perfectly hidden in the corner, away from everyone else. 

Getting to work on the hot wiring of the first generator, you look around, feeling your way through the motions on the generator. By now, the generators had become forever embedded into your mind, body, and soul; every hot wiring job becoming more instinct and second nature than it was to eat when your stomach grumbles. You look around, your senses telling you exactly where everyone was. They all found each other, sticking together, working as a team.

Just as the generator comes to an end, you dash out of sight beside the borders, moving quickly and quietly. The team had moved to the only generator with the best advantage point: atop the Pale Rose’s deck. Going against better judgement, looking around, you sense the killer’s presence nearing. Dashing onto the deck of the ship, waving the team to follow as they continue to work, they jump up to follow you. 

No one speaks, too scared to do so, so you decide to leave them be, leading them as far away from the enemy as possible. Running by a generator, you quickly make a U-turn, the team getting the “okay” and knowing they’re safe for now. With all hands on deck, you make quick work of the generator as a whole, the familiar ding going off as a symbol of completion. That’s once you finally feel him.

Turning slowly, it’s hard to miss the familiar glow of his pale white eyes boring into your skull. His familiar tattered apparel no doubt compromising his hidden figure despite the thick blanket of darkness that surrounds the swamp. He was uncloaked, bare, and staring at you with no movement. Philip Ojomo, or better known as “The Wraith,” didn’t move for a long while, the two of you stuck in a trance. However, within moments, he cloaks himself from view, disappearing in a twirl of tiny ashes, the crows cawing in recognition of an entity near them. He was gone as quick as he’d appeared.

Sighing in relief, you finally breathe in properly, calming your racing heartbeat as the fear threatens to break through its binds hidden in your body somewhere. Steve, being in the sight or line of hearing of Wraith, screams in a shock of pain as he gets a jab out of the Wailing Bell. At the unexpected turn of events, he speeds up, running as far as his legs could carry him. Unfortunately, Wraith was faster, snatching him up just as he lands another blow to knock Steve off his feet.

His perk, now activated, shows where the hooks are, igniting a sudden burst of heroism in Jake as he goes to block Wraith’s path. As expected, Philip tries to whack Jake out of the way, the latter diving out of the way in time to miss the dreadful bell. In the haste to hit the man interfering with Wraith’s plans, he loses control of Steve still draped over his broad shoulders, the young boy wiggling free just before he gets hooked. 

Making a dash for it, he does not turn back for his comrade as Jake was the next to be attacked, being too weak to run or meditate to stop his cries enough for the rival to run past. The signification of Jake’s fate becomes well aware to every teammate as the shrill cry echoes throughout the sloshy swamp. He was pinned to a hook that, just mere seconds ago, had Steve’s name written all over it. The young nerd, whimpering in pain, dangles in his temporary impairment, blood slipping in large amounts out and over his dress shirt, dripping onto his dark denim jeans and shoes.

As time goes on, your team had at least gotten one lick out of the hooks around the map, soon resulting in toolboxes used to decrease the easy ability and access to the lot that litter the muddy, damp ruins. Meg and you, on the verge of finishing the final generator, prepares for the last step in breaking free. Jumping off the generator for a moment, you wave her towards you. Mimicking your actions, she follows you to the boys a little ways away, edging them to follow as well. 

Then, upon coming into reach of one of the gates, you point for them to go over there and stay. Jake, the tech genius, nods his head as he crouches just below the gate controls. Meg and Steve tiptoe to the closest set of bushes and crates, prepared to dash or throw it on the ongoing intruder. For security reasons, you smirk. Making your way back to the generator, you go on to finish the last little bit left, final ding going off.

That’s when the team splits into action, doing what they can to ensure everyone’s safety. Standing and cracking your knees, you stretch a little, the team in view. Then, the relieving warning bell goes off as the clunky exit gates slam open, the team soon rushing through it and into the distance, no longer trapped. You smile now, knowing everyone was fortunate this round, pain and agony no longer a worry. 

Forgetting momentarily, you walk silently, looking at the deep red cracks in the swamp’s ground, splitting more and more as the seconds tick by. A force, yanking you by the shoulder, pulls you backwards, falling onto your butt in the process. Blood running cold, you look up slowly to meet the eyes of your tormentor, pale eyes once more seeping under your skin as the Nigerian mummy stares at you once more. You hadn’t paid close enough attention to auras, too caught up in the thought of resting after a long run.

Tears form at the corners of your eyes, fear not so much placed into Wraith’s presence, but more so in the misery and suffering to come when he kills you. Silently, he lifts the Wailing Bell, intent on bashing your skull in, but he pauses. Tilting his head slightly as you lower your head, he’s just merely able to catch the first fall of tears. He never speaks, it’s not what he does, but he watches.

Conflicted, he takes a step back as the bell gets dropped to the mud and grasslands below, unimportant at the moment. Soon, he lowers himself on the ground as well, sitting in front of you in a way of attempting comfort. Your eyes drift open at the realization of no apparent pain. Darting them around you, you look around as they land on the being in front of you. Confused, you stare wide-eyed as he makes no attempt to hurt you.

You felt as if this was a way of torturing you; showing no desire on inflicting pain and making you feel as if your worries could be silenced. This causes you to cry more, making Wraith scrunch his eyebrows in confusion. To be honest, he was just as lost as you were, unable to find the source of his ignorance or defiance to his duties. Then, realization hits him, the bell of the clock tower warning of the soon-to-be crumpling swamp. At the distance, you’d be unable to make it in time to escape the wounds soon to come of Philip; that part being unbeknownst to survivors. A failed job = the horrid burning and screaming as they fall with the map made by the Entity.

Gently placing his hand on your shoulder, you look up, just barley able to meet his eyes. Ignoring his own suspicions, he motions you to grab his hand, following his orders. Stepping up onto your feet weakly, you are soon met with Philip’s backside as you get draped over his bloodied shoulder. With his speed and agility, the wind picks up in your hair, being led to the unknown. That is, until you’re propped back onto your feet at the exit.

Confusion crosses your features, looking between the gate and the beats towering your form. Before you question it, the final bell goes off is alarm, time finally coming to a close. With quick thinking, you turn towards Philip, wrapping your arms around his broad torso. He does not get the time to return the favor, unfortunately, as you rush out the exit gate, making a final salute to him as you go.

Until next time.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Northern Exposure | Steve

❄ PART 3 OF THE MINI-SERIES ❄

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); blow job, violence, creepiness on part of our boys, predatory behaviour, Bucky’s an asshole, they’re all too lonely and too desperate, mistaken identity.

This is dark! fic and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, A Bad Time x Reader

Series Synopsis: You’re a nature photographer stationed up north but the arctic isolation comes to an unexpected and unpleasant end.

Note: A reminder that drabble requests will be opening for an hour at 1pm today. The link to the google form will be posted at that time.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You woke up sore and senseless. The air was frigid against your front as the warm body behind you blazed against your back. The tiny throw blanket barely dangled over you as Sam hogged most of it and much of the cushions beneath you. His thick snores kept you alert although your eyelid weighed heavy.

You sat up cautiously. You looked over your shoulder as he kept rumbling and you whimpered as your thighs touched. You bent and reached for the tee shirt heaped on the floor. You pulled it on and stood. You glanced around the room and rubbed your cold hands together.

You neared the door and eyed the pin pad below the handle. No numbers, only a scanner to place one's finger. You sniffed and felt along the hem of the shirt. Your eyes stung but you knew you couldn’t cry. Not then, not there.

You stayed staring at the door blankly. What was wrong with these men? They were heroes. They kept the world safe and yet they could take you and do that. Sam wasn’t the end of it, he was only the beginning. You hoped maybe Steve would care, that maybe you could persuade him that it was wrong. He was Captain America, he had to know it was.

“You mess with that thing and you’ll trigger the lockdown protocol,” Bucky’s voice cut through the morning air, “any foreign fingerprint requires a manual override and I’m not getting stuck in here with you.”

You turned and winced at his angry glare. You hadn’t heard him come out. He snorted and went to the short counter. He slammed a tin down on the counter as you watched his broad shoulders and the dark tails of his hair that hung between them. His unwieldy activity awoke Sam and he sat up with a grunt.

“Coffee?” Sam rubbed his eyes.

“You can get up and make your own,” Bucky retorted.

“Where--” Sam’s voice died as he saw you and he turned his legs over the edge of the couch, “what are you doing over there, baby?”

“Trying to get away from you, I’d say,” Bucky bristled, “you can’t trust her, you know that.”

“Shut up,” Sam stood and held the throw around his waist, “how about a shower, baby? Nice and hot.”

“It comes out of your time,” Bucky snarled, “I’m not waiting three hours for the tank to reheat.”

“Yeah, yeah, grumpy pants,” Sam rolled his eyes and neared you, he held out his hand to you, “you should wash up…” he leaned in and lowered his voice, “especially after last night.”

“You know I have enhanced hearing right?” Bucky stirred the instant powder into his mug.

“And we have real coffee,” Sam grabbed your hand and pulled you after him.

“Too tired for that shit,” Bucky brushed by Sam and sat at the table, “walls are thin in here and some of us actually work around here.”

“He needs his beauty sleep,” Sam remarked over his shoulder as he dragged you to the restroom opposite the bedroom door, “not that it can ever really help with all…” he gestured to his own face, “that.”

Bucky let out a long breath and his cup clinked on the wood. You let Sam pull you into the bathroom and close the door. You could still feel the tension through the wall. He dropped the blanket and you tried not to look at his bare ass as he reached to crank on the shower. 

You kept close to the door as he pulled back the curtain and he turned to look back at you as he stepped inside. His dick was twitching and getting hard already. You tried not to show your discomfort. In your dulled mind, you didn’t think he meant together.

He raised his eyebrow and for a moment the humour in his face withered. You looked away and reluctantly pulled the shirt over your head. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it all already, felt it all, explored every inch of you. You stepped in front of him and he turned you to face him.

“You really are a cutie, you know that?” he said, “since you like to take photos, I might take some of you… keep me warm when I’m not around.”

He cradled your chin as the water splashed down on your shoulders and spattered against his torso. He slid his other arm around you as he tilted your head and kissed you. You stared at the ceiling and let his tongue past your lips. The revulsion made you tremble and he purred as he mistook it for excitement.

He pushed you further back until you were against the tile and the water spilled over his shoulders. He lifted your legs as his dick pressed against your stomach. You shoved on his chest but he didn’t notice your pathetic struggles.

You gasped as you heard a click and the door opened suddenly. Sam’s lips left yours but her kept you pinned to the wall as he looked over. You followed his eyes through the space between the wall and curtain as Steve blinked at you dumbly.

“Hey, man,” Sam sneered, “you heard of knocking?”

“Sorry,” Steve cringed, “I didn’t-- I wasn’t thinking.”

“Did bozo not tell you we were in here?” Sam turned back to you and gaze down at you as he bit his lip, “we’re busy.”

The door closed with a snap and Sam bent to devour you again. The steam fogged your vision and seeped into your skin. You closed your eyes and let it lull you away from your body, away from the man against you as he used you again.

❄

You were given another tee shirt, this one a faded blue with a grey star on the chest. That was all you were allowed as you sat and watched the men. You tried to be numb to it but you could still feel Sam inside of you, his fingertips on your thighs, his mouth on your throat. You shivered and bent your legs up under the larger tee and hugged them.

“You two are on recon for the day,” Steve said as they sat at the small table around an unfolded map, “the usual. Keep your comms on and report back with anything you see.”

“And you?” Bucky challenged as he planted his feet far apart, “sounds like you’re not comin’ along.”

“I’ll stay here with…” he lifted his head and peeked over at you, “the girl. She shouldn’t be here alone.”

“She can’t go nowhere,” Bucky huffed, “she can’t get past the door without one of us and even if she did, you think she’d get that far?”

Steve cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, “when did we ever need all three of us out there?”

“What’s the point in keeping comms on if you’re not gonna listen for us?” Bucky sneered.

“I’ll be listening,” Steve said staunchly, “stop being an asshole and get your butt in gear.”

Bucky stood and the chair teetered behind him. He scowled at you as he turned and disappeared into the bedroom. Sam winked as he followed and you heard a muttered conversation through the open door as Steve remained as he was.

You knotted your fingers together and rocked. Your fear mounted with each minute in the bunker. Somehow the idea of being alone there with one of them was worse than all three. You cupped your chin and tried not to fall apart entirely.

Sam and Bucky appeared again with guns strapped from shoulder and chest respectively and bags of gear. They pulled on the layers needed to brave the arctic blast and tied their boots tight. They bid goodbye, though Bucky only grumbled and Sam seemed more interested in watching you than leaving Steve.

The door closed and beeped as the mechanism whirred and then you were all alone. It was silent as Steve scratched at the wood of the table and watched his hand. You heard him breathing. He leaned back suddenly and bent his arms behind his head as he stretched.

He seemed to gather himself as he lifted his chin and exhaled. 

“Can I see you naked?” he asked softly but his tone was rigid enough to make your nerves bounce off each other.

You looked at him round-eyed and he turned his chair to face you and settled back in. He pushed his shoulders back and traced his fingers along his jeans.

“I want to see you naked,” he repeated, it was no longer a question.

His eyes met yours and you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. You rose stiffly and neared him. You stopped two feet away and played with the hem of the long tee. He watched your fingers and angled his head. His gaze returned to your face as his hand trailed up his thigh and brushed over his crotch.

He nodded and you feared another order, one which might be more physical. You swiped the tee shirt over your head and hesitantly let it drop. Your hands shook as you pushed them down to your sides and you couldn’t look at Steve. Instead, you focused on the worn old carpet beneath your feet.

He let out a gristled breath and you listened as the chair creaked. A softer noise followed, that of a zipper and a muffled groan. You brought your arm over your chest to cover yourself and moved your hand in front of your vee.

“Come here,” he said.

You looked up at his hand as he pointed between his knees. You took one step and nearly tripped. You took another but it was just as tenuous. The closer you got, the worse you quaked. You stopped between his wide legs and he grabbed your waist. His thumbs rubbed along your skin and he caressed along the curve of your hips.

“Down,” he tugged on your wrist, “use your mouth.”

As you got on your knees, he reached into his jeans and pulled his dick out above his boxers. You winced and he caught your chin before you could turn your face away. His thumb ran over your lower lip and he pushed into your mouth. He pressed down on your tongue and purred.

Your teeth grazed his knuckle and you thought of biting down. He gripped your jaw painfully and his jaw squared.

“Now don’t think of doing anything stupid,” he retracted his hand and stroked himself,.

“You don’t have to do this. Steve, you can let me go or--or-- take me back--”

“No,” he said firmly, “I didn’t say I wanted to hear you, did I?”

You gaped at him in confusion and mortification. He grabbed the back of your head and forced you forward as he wiggled his cock against your lips.

“I’m gonna make you forget all about Sam,” he shoved you onto his cock and you gagged as he hit the back of your throat, “he’s too soft on you. That’s why I’m here, to show you how to obey, because if you don’t, I can’t hold off Bucky forever.”

He pushed you down completely and you braced his thighs. You couldn’t breath as his thick cock blocked your airway. You trembled and he let you up for only a second before he urged you back down. His hands stretched around your skull and he guided you up and down his length, your spit dripping from your lips as you glided over him.

“See how easy it is?” he cooed, “how good you can be? I think Bucky might come around if you-- Fuck, no, fuck Bucky. I’m keeping you to myself, sweetheart--”

He snarled and stopped you suddenly. He pushed you until he was as deep as he could go and you kicked your feet frantically. He shuddered and released you. You pulled back and cough as you fell back onto your ass.

“You almost got me there,” he stood and you scurried backward across the floor, “I almost came already.”

“Steve--” you croaked.

“Shhh,” he took off his shirt and you watched his muscles flex beneath his skin, “the only noise I want to hear from you is begging.”

“Why--”

“Don’t make this bad, sweetheart,” he pushed his pants down with his boxers and stepped out of them, “now come back here.”

He sat and rubbed his thighs, his cock twitched and you climbed to your feet. You sniffed and went to him. He grabbed your hands and drew them up to his shoulders as he guided you into his lap. He guided you down as you straddled him and reached below you to prod his tip along your entrance.

You tried to push off of him a wave of fear rolled over you and he gripped your hips tight and slammed you down. He buried himself in you so deep it hurt. You couldn’t say if he was bigger than Sam or not, both stretched you uncomfortably. He kept you still and let out a sigh as he hung his head back.

“You feel good,” he said and his hands ran up and down your sides, “tight…”

You tried to pull your hands from his shoulders and he tugged them back. He pressed them to him until you grasped the thick muscle. He grinned and reached around you to grope your ass. He moved you up then down his length.

“It’s all you, sweetheart,” he smacked your ass, “you keep it up or I’m gonna start getting mad.”

You stared at him but the light was missing from his eyes. His pupils were dilated and dull, smoky with his immediate desire. You squeezed his shoulders and repeated the motion. He groaned at it and bared his teeth. You kept on at the same pace, whimpering as your walls were already tender and battered.

“Faster,” he breathed, “please, sweetheart, more.”

You sped up and gasped as he kneaded your ass and tilted your pelvis so that your clit rubbed against his. You felt so raw and worn but the heat rose nonetheless. He bent his head and brought a hand around to cup your tit. He took your nipple in his mouth and suckled at it, his teeth tickling the hardened bud.

He purred and it sent vibrations through you. His other hand urged you fasted and you gulped for air as you grew needy for your release. The pressure was so bad it made your eyes water and your arms shake. You leaned into him and he kissed along your chest as you hugged his head.

You whined as you came. You heard how wet you were but couldn’t stop as the swell was followed shortly by another crest. You couldn’t stop, if you did, you would feel the pain. If you stopped, you would have to think, to remeber that you were trapped.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered.

He hooked his arms under your knees and his hands spread across your back. You cried out as he lifted you abruptly and kept you moving on his dick. You clung to him as you felt precarious even in his thick arms and looked down at the joining of your bodies. You bit your lip and closed your eyes.

“I’m close,” he hissed as he bounced you against him, “so… close.”

He bit back on his voice and hammered into you. His groan came muffled through his clamped lips and you felt the flood of heat inside of you. He kept fucking you, not stopping even as he shook from his climax, even as his cum dripped out around him. 

He staggered blindly and turned you against the wall. He pinned you there, folding your legs further up as he planted his hands flat. He rutted into you, his fiery breath tickled your throat and his voice broke free.

“So bad, making me cum,” he growled, “bad girl.”

You moaned weakly as he crushed you to the wall and your muscles strained. Your walls clenched his dick as it was your turn to cum and you sobbed from pleasure, so pure and so deep that it hurt.

“Steve…” you uttered, “Steve, please…”

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he sank to his hips and paused only to do it again, each thrust followed by a taunting lull, “tell me.”

“Steve, please,” yor slapped at his shoulder and clawed at his bicep, “stop, I can’t-- no more, I can’t, I can’t, I c--”

He crashed into you so hard you screamed and went weak against him. Your head hung on his shoulder and your arms slipped limp over his shoulders. He still didn’t stop, driven by your surrender to fuck you even faster.

“Bad girl,” he whispered and nibbled your ear lobe, “so bad-- so--” he grunted and came again, this time he sank and stilled your body against his. 

He shuddered and rolled his forehead against the wall. He breathed heavily down your back. 

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he reached between you and shoved his finger inside of you above his dick, he added another and you winced and whined against his shoulder, “you need more,” he purred, “a bad girl like you can never get enough.”

[after-avenging-hours]

Out of Time [6]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist with dates on chapter releases - tag list will not be used for this series

Summary:  After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Word Count: 6761

Warnings: This part contains smut, Steve is a virgin for obvious reasons, Explicit themes (18+)

The next morning, you meet up with Dr. Erskine first thing to go over the plan for the day, along with Colonel Phillips. The Colonel then calls for a vehicle escort to take you all to where Agent Carter is getting the recruits initiated. The vehicle pulls up just in time for you to see her fist flying into one of the recruit’s face.

You scoff out a laugh, wondering what exactly that guy did to piss her off.

“Agent Carter, I can see that you’re breaking in the candidates. That’s good,” Colonel Phillips announces as he approaches the group. He then proceeds to order the soldier the get himself back up.

You stand next to Dr. Erskine and sweep your eyes over the group. You catch Steve’s gaze for a brief moment before he looks straight ahead at attention. You have to glance down at your clipboard to help fight off your smile.

The Colonel begins to pace in front of the recruits and gives his introductory speech. “We are going to win this war because we have the best… men,” he falters when he pauses and glances over at Steve. He turns to shoot Dr. Erskine with a look. The Doctor has to look away to keep his face neutral. “And because they are going to get better,” the Colonel resumes his pacing. “Much better.”

He continues to explain to the men what exactly they have signed up for. An opportunity to become the man that will lead the Allied forces into winning the war. A man who will be the first in a new breed of Super Soldiers. A man who will personally bring Adolph Hitler to the gates of Hell.

“We will be testing you in just about every aspect you can think of. Strength, endurance, agility, cognition, aptitude... By the end of this week, we will know you better than you know yourselves. You are on the clock from now until we’ve made our decision next Monday. You will follow every single order, explicitly as it is given to you. We tell you to jump, just do it, don’t bother asking how high. We will tell you when to eat. We will tell you when to sleep. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

“Sir, yes, Sir!” all of the recruits shout simultaneously.

“Sergeant Duffy, you can take it from here,” the Colonel relinquishes control of the recruits to the Drill Sergeant.

“Alright, men! Step into formation!” He orders. “First up is the ropes course! Ready! March!”

You follow after the group, along with Agent Carter. You take notes on the performance and times of each recruit as they complete the course. You bite your lips and cringe inwardly when Steve barely makes it halfway up the rope wall before losing steam. It breaks your heart to have to check the incomplete box next to his name on the paperwork, but you know if you don’t accurately report what’s happening, it will raise several questions with the others.

This is just the beginning of a very long and challenging week. Every day the men are up before dawn, they have 30 minutes to eat breakfast, then they’re jumping right into the next test. Steve’s differences from the others quickly paint a target on his back. One of the recruits, Hodge, the one that Peggy punched on the first day, seems to have a vendetta against him.

You witness Hodge kicking out one of the posts of the barbed wire crawling course, forcing the wires to collapse directly on top of Steve, pinning him down. Sergeant Duffy was quick to put Steve to blame, but you happily wrote a mark against Hodge on his form. You’d definitely be reporting this back to Erskine.

Steve struggles for a few minutes but is eventually able to work himself loose and crawls out of the remainder of the course. You frown when you notice the back of his uniform is cut in several spots. You’re pretty sure you even saw a flash of red.

Later on, the men are given an hour for lunch. As the rest of the group heads for the mess hall, you watch Steve diverge off to the barracks. You rush to your room to grab your first aid kit. You step back out of the officer quarters at the same time he’s leaving the barracks, dressed in a different uniform. You release a quick whistle to catch his attention before jerking your head to the side to indicate he should follow you.

He looks around to make sure no one else has witnessed the interaction before walking over. You take him around the back of the building before ducking behind a series of large crates. “Vic, what are you doing? We’re going to get in trouble,” Steve whispers.

“Sit down and take your shirt off,” you instruct, kneeling on the ground to open your first aid kit.

“There’s no need for that. I’m fine,” he huffs stubbornly.

You fix him with a pointed look. “Steve, the sooner you stop arguing with me, the sooner we’ll be done, and then the less likely we’ll be caught.”

He stares back for a moment before giving in with a dejected sigh. He looks around once more before ducking behind the creates, too. He starts unbuttoning his uniform and turns around to sit cross-legged with his back toward you. Once the shirt is off, you hiss at the sight of the cuts on his back. Most aren’t too bad, but there’s one going across his right shoulder blade that’s deeper than the rest.

“You and I have very different meanings for the term fine,” you scoff.

“It’s really not that bad. Just hurts when I, you know, move…”

You breathe out a laugh, shaking your head at him. There’s that stubborn jerk you know and love. Leaning forward, you press your lips to the back of his neck. He turns his head slightly to glance at you over his shoulder.

“What was that for?”

You smile, “A distraction from the pain.”

He releases a low hum before turning his head back. You disinfect your hands before reaching out to inspect the deeper cut. You prod gently at the skin around the cut. Luckily, it’s not quite as deep as you originally feared and it won’t need stitches.

“This is going to sting,” you warn as you rip open a disinfectant wipe packet. You dab as gently as you can to the cut, but Steve still releases a harsh breath.

“Think I could maybe use another distraction,” he comments, his voice tight.

You oblige with a kiss to the top of his shoulder. Once you’re satisfied that you’ve cleaned up the cut, you pull out your healing spray from Shuri. “This will feel a little cold at first, but then it will start to numb the pain,” you explain before spraying over the wound. You tape a piece of gauze over the cut to keep it protected before moving onto the smaller cuts.

As the gel begins to take effect, the tension in Steve’s shoulders begins to ease. Your concentration breaks when he releases a long sigh. “Vic, what the hell am I doing here?” he asks, sounding dejected.

“You earned your spot, Steve. Same as the rest of them.”

He scoffs dryly. “But I’m nothing like the rest of them.”

“That’s a good thing!” you insist. “Steve, you know that this isn’t just about who’s tallest, fastest, or strongest. Your strengths are up here,” you tap at his temple. “Find a way to use that to your advantage.”

“Can’t exactly think my way out of a push-up…” He sighs, looking off into the distance. “I’m just so tired.”

You’re not surprised. He’s pushing his body past its limits. “I know,” you scratch comfortingly at the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “But it’s just a few more days. I know that you can do this.”

The scratch of your nails on his scalp helps to relax him. “Thanks, Vic. It’s nice knowing there’s someone here that’s on my side.” He looks over his shoulder to meet your gaze once again.

“I’m always on your side. Even when you’re being a stubborn jerk.” You smirk humorously.

He chuckles quietly and lets you finish bandaging him up. The rest of the cuts don’t need as much attention, just a quick spray of the healing gel before covering them with a few bandages, so the gel won’t rub off on his uniform.

“Okay, you’re done,” you tell him, so he can put his uniform shirt back on as you pack up your kit and collect the trash.

He slips the shirt over his shoulders but leaves it unbuttoned as he turns to face you, sitting on his knees. “Can I get one last distraction?”

When you lift your gaze to catch his, he taps a finger to his bottom lip, right where he’s giving you a goofy grin. You match the grin with one of your own before leaning forward on your hands and knees. You tilt your head and press your lips to his. As much as you want to give in to the kiss and spend the whole afternoon with him tucked behind these crates, you know it won’t be long before someone comes looking for the two of you. If you’re caught together it would immediately disqualify Steve from the program, so you keep things short.

Pulling back, you blink your eyes open. Steve’s face looks more relaxed than it has his entire time here. You smile at him encouragingly, “Go show ‘em what you’re made of, Rogers.”

Darting forward, he places one last peck against your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

He finishes buttoning up his shirt and stands. He looks around to make sure the coast is clear before reaching a hand down to help you to your feet. You have him go first then wait a minute before stepping out from behind the crates and make your way back to your room to put away your first aid kit.

-

Dr. Erskine grabs you during breakfast the next morning to go over the progress on the recruits so far. While you’re in your meeting with him, the recruits are taken on their endurance run around the entire camp. It will take the full morning to complete the round trip. You can’t help but be worried about Steve, especially since you’re not there to watch out for him.

You step back outside to meet up with the recruits at the same time that they are returning from their run. You feel dread pooling deep in your gut when you see Steve sitting in the back of the escort vehicle. As you hurry your approach, you find that he doesn’t appear to be injured. In fact, he looks rather content. Maybe even a little smug.

The vehicle comes to a stop, along with the rest of the recruits. Sergeant Duffy dismisses them to lunch, a rather sour look on his face as he holds a bundled green cloth in his arms. Steve hops out of the back of the truck, confirming your thought that he’s not injured.

“What happened?” you ask as he approaches.

“The Sergeant said that if anyone could bring him the flag at the halfway point, they’d get a ride back the rest of the way. I pulled the pins out of the bottom of the flagpole. Once the pole was on the ground, getting the flag was easy.” He shrugs casually.

You and Dr. Erskine share a look, trying to conceal your smiles to not show favoritism in front of the others.

“That is one way to do it,” Dr. Erskine tells him before you both let him continue to the mess hall for lunch.

The two of you then meet up with Agent Carter to get her notes on the recruits after their run.

By the end of the week, Steve has found a few other areas to shine through. Every time you give Dr. Erskine your reports, you can tell that it’s only helping to affirm his feelings on picking Steve for Project Rebirth. You’re currently watching the recruits running through their afternoon exercises, with Agent Carter leading them through a round of push-ups. Your attention is momentarily pulled away from the group when Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips walk up, arguing over Erskine’s apparent choice to pick Steve.

“You don’t win wars with niceness, Doctor,” the Colonel huffs and digs through a weapons create in the back of one of the military trucks. He pulls something out of one of the creates that you can’t quite make out from your position. “You win wars with guts.” In the next second, he tosses the object into the group of recruits. “Grenade!” he shouts and your heart completely stops.

You’re about to dart into the fray as the recruits completely scatter, but then you notice one individual jumping directly onto the grenade. “Get away!” Steve screams, huddling over the explosive device. “Get back!”

Time seems to come to a complete stop as you think that this is the moment you’re going to watch him die. A full second passes, then another. As time seems to start moving once more at a normal pace, you realize that the grenade never went off. Everyone else seems to come to this conclusion at the same time and Steve begins to push himself out of his huddled position.

“It was a dummy grenade,” one of the other soldiers announce and everyone begins to collect themselves. “All clear.”

You find yourself releasing the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

Steve looks around in confusion. “Is this a test?” he asks.

You look over to Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips to find the two in a staring match. “He’s still skinny,” the Colonel mutters before walking around the doctor and heads off. Erskine watches his movements, trying to hold back a smile of amusement. Once the Colonel is out of sight, he gives that smile to Steve

-

It’s your last night at Camp Lehigh and you can’t even pretend to fall asleep. You should feel relief, knowing that Steve was successful in getting chosen for Project Rebirth. And a part of you is. But this means that tomorrow is your last day here in this time. Tomorrow is the whole reason you even ventured back into 1943. Tomorrow is your one shot at getting the serum. Tomorrow… you go home.

Unable to stand one more second laying still in your bed, you push yourself up and move the blankets off your legs. Peggy is fast asleep in her own cot, but she’s a light sleeper, so you try not to make too much noise as you slip out of bed. You grab your silk robe to throw over your nightgown once you’ve stepped out of the room. You twist the knob of the door as you carefully pull it shut, so it won’t click. You then walk barefoot out of the Officer Quarters and make your way over to the barracks. As you approach the main door, you pause when it opens on its own.

Dr. Erskine steps out, and he catches you standing there. He chuckles quietly, holding the door open for you. “Don’t keep him up too late.”

An embarrassed smile crosses your face. “I won’t, Doctor.” You slip inside before the door shuts behind you.

Steve is sitting on the side of his cot, with his back toward the door. He looks over his shoulder as you approach, quickly standing to his feet when he sees it’s you. “Vic!”

As soon as he’s within reach, your hands dart out to yank him close. You wrap your arms around his chest and bury your face into his neck, holding him tight. He stiffens at first, before relaxing into your hold.

“Is this my congratulations?” he asks with a gentle laugh.

“This is because you jumped on top of a grenade, like an idiot, and scared me half to death!” You squeeze him a little tighter. “I need to know that you’re okay,” you mumble against the side of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, wrapping his arms around your waist.

When you feel the comfort of his nearness beginning to seep into you, you lean back and unwrap an arm to hold the side of his face. “This is your congratulations,” you say before placing your lips over his.

His arms tighten around your waist as he kisses back eagerly. “God, I missed having you so close,” he whispers against your lips.

Instead of his words causing you comfort, they hit you with a cold dose of reality. You pull back with a snap, your breath hitching.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, looking at you with concern.

You feel the pain in your chest like a knife to your heart, and you’re sure it’s plain to see on your face. “Steve, there’s something I need to tell you,” you confess.

His eyes become cautious and guarded. “What is it?”

You release a shaky breath, feeling the tears already beginning to well in your eyes. “After the procedure tomorrow… I have to go away.”

“Go away?” he repeats, brows furrowing. “You’re getting reassigned?”

“I-” you start before cutting yourself off. You know you can’t tell him the full truth. He wouldn’t understand. “Yes,” you force out. “I’m getting reassigned.”

His gaze flickers between yours, trying to get a read on anything that you can give him. “Well, where to? Maybe I can get assigned there also.”

You shake your head, your lips trembling as you attempt to fight off your tears. “No, you can’t. It’s something I have to do alone.”

He looks like he still doesn’t understand. “So, what does that mean for us?”

You exhale sharply, looking up as a last-ditch effort to keep the tears from falling. “It means we won’t see each other again.”

“Ever?”

All of your efforts begin to fail when your gaze drops to his once more and you see the look on his face. He looks absolutely heartbroken. You feel that knife in your chest dig a little deeper. “Not for a long time.”

He watches as you begin to fall apart in his arms, but he just can’t accept it. Steve Rogers never gives up on anything. “No, we can find a way to make it work. I’ll talk with Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips after the procedure. If it works, they’ll have to say yes, right? And even if they say no, we can still write letters to each other. This doesn’t have to be-”

“Steve,” you cut in. You can’t allow him to get his hopes us. “This is our last night.”

His breaths come in quick like he’s gearing up for a fight, but when he sees the raw pain in your eyes, he knows that now isn’t the time for arguing. Maybe he can change your mind before tomorrow. Maybe he can’t. If this truly is the end… “Then, let’s make the most of it.”

His hands cradle your cheeks before he pulls your face against his. He’s in complete control of this kiss and you are more than happy to submit to him. You’re not sure where this sudden burst of confidence has come from, but you are reveling in it. His hands slip from your cheeks, down your neck, and over your shoulders. He pushes against your robe until it’s falling to the floor.

The two of you stumble over to his cot, not wanting to part, as your hands roam over each other’s bodies. Your hands slip beneath his white SSR t-shirt before they crawl up his stomach. He releases you just long enough to tuck his dog tags inside the shirt before he helps you pull it off. He sits in the middle of the mattress and you crawl to sit on his lap, your nightgown bunching up at your thighs.

You hover over him, hands on his shoulders as you barely skim your lips against his. He stretches his neck up as you tease, trying to get more from you. Your lips split into a grin before your tongue darts out to swipe straight up the middle of his mouth. His hands shake when they grip your hips.

“Have you done this before?” he asks breathlessly.

You stop your movements and pull back to meet his gaze. “I have,” you confirm. “Does that bother you?”

He shakes his head fervently. “Oh, no,” he insists, squeezing your hips a little tighter. “As long as it doesn’t bother you that I haven’t…” He drops his gaze for a moment.

Your lips spread into a sweet smile and you run your fingers through his hair, lifting his gaze back up. “That doesn’t bother me at all, Steve,” you assure him.

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, and you can tell he has more to say, so you wait patiently for him. “Bucky once told me that sometimes women don’t feel pleasure if you don’t do it right.” He pauses, looking at you with concern. “Will you teach me?”

You look at him with so much tender affection, he can feel it in his soul. “Of course.” You settle yourself a little more comfortably over his lap, with your knees framing his hips. “Just start by touching me.”

He glances down at where his hands rest at your hips, then his eyes travel back up the length of your body. “Where?” he questions.

“Everywhere.” Leaning back down, you capture his lips and kiss him fiercely.

His hands seem to take on a life of their own. They trail up your sides, exploring your curves so delicately, one would think you were made a glass. They skim just past the edge of your breasts, not quite brave enough to venture there quite yet. He traces the dip of your collar bone and the bend of your shoulders. As you continue to mold your mouth to his, he uses the touch of his fingers to paint the image of your body in his mind.

His hands then skim down your back, fingers spread wide so as not to miss a single inch. They come to a stop just below the curve of your lower back. Pulling out of your kiss, you breathe heavily as you catch his hooded gaze. Releasing his shoulders, you reach back and grip each of his wrists. Continuing to hold his gaze, you push his hands down even further until they are well and truly settled over the globes of your ass.

Steve’s breath hitches and his pupils dilate completely. He may not realize it yet, but you know your man has a thing for your ass. You grin deviously when you feel his hands squeeze. You rock your hips encouragingly, rubbing up on the erection that’s begun forming in his pants. He grunts in surprise at the sensations running through him and he squeezes your ass again. He feels like his heart is about to beat right out of his chest, it’s pounding so hard.

Wanting to touch even more of you, Steve’s hands glide down your thighs and slip under the hem of your satin nightgown. He moves at a pace slower than a snail as he moves back up your legs. His fingertips brush the curve of your ass once more, and when he expects to feel cloth again, he finds nothing but skin. His lips part in shock. “You’re not wearing underwear…” he realizes.

You can’t help the short giggle that slips out. “No, I’m not,” you confirm.

He swallows thickly, trying to process that information. “Do you do that a lot?” he questions, wondering how many nights you’ve shared a bed together like this.

“Sometimes,” you respond cryptically.

He releases a shaky breath, “Oh God, I’m going to hell for this.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. “Well, then we can go together.”

“Can…” his mouth has gone dry and his voice cracks. He has to clear his throat to try again. “Can I see you?”

“You can if you take off my nightgown,” you grin cheekily.

He fumbles a little, getting the satin material up to your waist. You help him remove the gown and let it fall to the floor. And suddenly Steve has a very naked woman sitting over him. After a quick glance over you, he quickly realizes that he could spend hours looking over your body and would never grow bored. He could explore you as he would an art museum. Looking for every single minuscule little detail within the great masterpiece. Lose himself in the curve of your hip, or the swell of your breasts, or between your thighs.

You notice where his gaze drops to and recognize the curious interest in his eyes. You take one of his hands back in yours and slowly bring it to the junction of your thighs. His fingers slide over your folds and he inhales sharply.

“You’re wet…” he surmises.

“I am,” you confirm with a laugh.

His fingers do a little exploring over the area. “Are women always wet like this?”

“No, not like this. It’s mostly just during arousal. It helps to act as a natural lubricant,” you attempt to explain while he’s got his hands on you.

“Where do I… go in?” he questions, his face flushing. He feels like he’s failing in class. Isn’t there some sort of primal instinct that’s supposed to kick in or something?

You smile in understanding and guide him to where he needs to be. “Just press gently,” you encourage. He does as you’ve instructed and slowly, his finger pushes in. Your lips part and you release the sweetest little mewl as your body welcomes him. “Add a second finger,” you urge, more than ready for the satisfying stretch your body has been craving from the moment of arousal.

It’s been a while since you’ve gone this long without sex. Especially since you’d been on that recon mission with the team for several weeks even before coming to 1943. Your body was begging for a little action. You have a brief flicker of thought on whether or not this is technically considered cheating, but then Steve flicks his fingers experimentally, hitting your g-spot, and all other thought promptly falls straight out of your head.

“Oh, right there! Steve, touch me right there!”

Steve doesn’t know if he should be watching what he’s doing with his hand or if he can just stare at your face. You’re absolutely breathtaking. Neck stretched, lips parted, eyes closed. You’re a picture of pure bliss. Your hips begin to rock against his fingers as your body tries to chase after its first orgasm. Reaching down for his hand once more, you position his thumb over your aching clit.

“Rub that in little circles.” You’re growing more and more breathless the longer he plays with you. The sounds coming out of you are so sweet, Steve can nearly taste the sugar in the air. You try not to be too loud, knowing there’s night patrol walking around the camp and you don’t want to call their attention. “Oh, Steve. That-” your voice drops with a sharp exhale. “That feels so good.”

Your hips stutter against his touch and your breasts heave with every breath. Steve is mesmerized by you. He’s not sure what drives him to do it, be it that instinct finally kicking in, or purely an insatiable need, but he leans forward and takes one of your breasts into his mouth. This must be the correct move because the sound that rips out of you shoots straight to his throbbing cock. Your hands dive into his hair, tugging and gripping at the strands, but also keeping him close and encouraging him.

Steve does his best to divide his attention, keeping his hand moving between your legs while he mouths at your breast. He tries to keep his teeth out of the equation, unsure if that will hurt you. He sucks your nipple into his mouth and laves his tongue over the hardened bud. His other hand reaches back down to grab at your ass once more. He uses that hand as leverage to keep you close and encourage the way you rock into his probing fingers.

“Oh yes! Right there, Steve! Don’t stop!”

He’s not entirely sure which area you’re referring to, so he keeps up with it all. He sucks even harder on your breast, circling his tongue around the sensitive bud. His hand between your legs is beginning to grow tired, but he doesn’t dare stop, and he continues to squeeze and push the globe of your ass.

Your voice continues to rise in pitch the closer you get to your peak. “Oh my God! Oh, Steve! Yes! Yes!” And suddenly, your body is tensing above him and your walls spasm around his fingers. Your climax hits you like a splash of paint on a blank canvas. You’re seeing all sorts of colors and swirls behind your closed eyelids. You hold onto him tight, afraid that if you let go, you’ll get whisked away.

He pulls away from your breast, not wanting to miss the sight of your euphoria, but he continues the movement of his hands. His fingers are pushed in deep, stroking at your quivering walls and thumbing at your clit. Your entire body shakes around him. Steve feels like he’s strung so tight that he may just join you with the barest hint of touch to his straining cock.

“Okay, okay,” you ease, gripping at his wrist as your body begins to come down from your high. He’s more than happy to keep going, but you’re going to go nuts from over-sensitivity if he keeps it up. “That was good,” you huff with a breathless laugh, guiding his hand to gently pull out from between your legs. “So good…” you drop your head unceremoniously to his shoulder, needing a second to collect yourself.

He feels your breath fan across his chest, sending tingles in its wake. “I didn’t kill you, right?” he asks jokingly.

You giggle breathlessly, lifting your head back up. “No. You were perfect.” Cupping his face in your hands, you slant your lips over his in a sloppy kiss and start to lean forward until Steve falls back against his pillow. Your mouth drags away from his, over the side of his jaw and down his neck.

“What are you doing now?” Steve asks as your lips ghost down the center of his chest.

You place a kiss just above his belly button before grinning up at him devilishly. “Now I’m going to do you.” Your fingers hook into the waistband of his pants, popping the top button and dragging down the zipper. In one move, you pull his pants and boxers off his legs, allowing them to join the remainder of your clothes on the floor. Steve’s cock is hard and ready for you, laying against his abdomen. He’s not as thick as you’re used to, but he’s definitely got more length than you were expecting. He’s also got a bit of an upward curve right now that seems to have gone away after the girth built up.

Your gaze flickers up to see that he’s watching you intently for your reaction. You give him just the barest hint of a smirk before you lean down and drag your tongue over him from base to tip. His lips part in a shaky breath and he throws his head back. You swipe over the very end of his tip, getting a taste of the pre-cum that’s dribbling out of his head. You wrap your fingers around his base to hold him steady before you take him into your mouth.

“Good God!” he cries out, hips jerking up and his back arching. He grips the bedsheets, his knuckles immediately turning white as he squeezes his eyes shut. He’s never felt anything like this before and he knows that it’s way too much. “Vic, honey, you gotta stop,” he begs despite the way his body thrusts up into your hot mouth. “I won’t last,” he shakes his head fervently, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing up.

Having mercy on him, you release him with a parting lick to the slit on his head. You keep your hand wrapped around him as you sit up on your knees and begin to get yourself into position above him. “Are you sure you want to do this?” you ask for his consent one last time before it becomes too late.

His eyes blink back open and meet yours before he nods. “Yes, I want this,” he confirms. “I want you, Vic.”

You smile sincerely and move to line him up with your entrance. His tip has just barely brushed against your slick folds when he jolts and tightly grips your hip.

“Wait! Wait,” he rushes, making you pause. You’re about to move off of him, but his grip holds you steady. “I’m not wearing a condom,” he tells you in a hurry before you’ll think he’s backing out. “I don’t even have one…”

Your muscles relax as you laugh lightly. “It’s okay. I have birth control.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “What is that?”

You realize too late that modern birth control hasn’t been invented yet. “Uhm… well, I have an IUD. It’s like a small device inside me that releases a certain type of hormone that prevents fertilization.”

“Oh,” he states simply, but wonders why he’s never heard of anything like that before. It certainly sounds handy. “And that’s effective?”

“Yes,” you smile in amusement. “So, can I…” you glance down to where you’re still holding him.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Go ahead.” His cheeks flare with embarrassment.

You giggle at his awkwardness. “You’re so adorable.”

He winces slightly at that, his cheeks only getting hotter. “Not exactly the words most men want to hear when you’ve got your hands on his penis.”

You laugh again and stroke his length in a comforting gesture. “Well, you’re not most men.” You settle back over him and align his tip against your entrance. “You’re my man.” With that said, you begin to sink down onto him. Your body welcomes every single inch that fills you until he’s pushed in to the hilt.

“Oh wow…” he breathes, hands gripping your hips even tighter.

“You okay?” you ask a little breathlessly, your body thrumming with sexual energy.

“Yeah…” he responds brokenly, trying to hang onto his last shred of control. He’s never felt anything like this before, there aren’t even enough words to describe what he’s feeling. Good is an understatement. Great is way off the mark. Euphoric might be close, but it still seems to fall short.

You give him a second to get used to the feeling of being inside you. Your fingers glide up his flat stomach and over the ridges of his ribcage. Sure, this body is smaller than you’re used to, but he’s definitely not as delicate as everyone has been made out to believe. This last week has certainly taught you that much. No matter what got thrown at him and no matter how hard he took a beating, Steve still managed to persevere. He picked himself back up and he kept moving forward. His inner strength somehow manages to shine brighter when he doesn’t have the muscles to back it up. Even though you’d been scared out of your mind when he jumped on that grenade, you’re also so incredibly proud of him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, causing your gaze to lift back up to meet his.

“Like what?” you question, wondering what he’s reading off your expression.

“Like I’m the only man in the whole world that matters.”

The love that you feel for him in your heart swells like a balloon. You lean forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands, and brush your nose against his. “Because you are,” your words caress his lips moments before you capture them.

You start to move your hips in slow circles, taking great pleasure in the way he twitches inside you. His hands squeeze your hips before they fall back down to your ass. He uses his grip as leverage to start rocking up into you. His movements are a little sloppy, more of a reaction rather than a coordinated effort. It feels good either way and you have to pull your lips back to release the delighted gasp that’s desperate to escape.

Your hands reach up to grip the metal bar from the bed frame as you find a rhythm to grind down against Steve’s gentle thrusts. His parted lips are swollen and red from your kisses as they release stunted gasps and heady grunts from deep within his chest. His heart is pounding so fast, he thinks it might just burst, but if this is the last thing he ever gets to experience before he dies, it will be well worth it.

“Can I go faster?” you ask with a needy whimper.

Steve thinks he may pass out, but because he’s a sucker for pain, he nods his head fervently. Your grip on the bed frame tightens and the muscles in your thighs quiver as you begin to bounce yourself on his cock. “Oh shit!” Steve’s eyes roll back as unimaginable pleasure sparks through him. Every time you slam down on his cock it sends a bolt of electricity licking up his spine. He brings his knees up and digs his heels into the mattress, so he can meet you thrust for thrust. Just about every muscle in his body is screaming in protest from this past week of hard training, but he pushes through the pain because the pleasure is way too good to stop now.

Your body pulls him in so deep, he feels like he’s going to fall into you. And maybe, he already has. These last two weeks he’s spent with you have felt like a dream. You dropped into his lap like a fallen angel and every moment since has been pure fantasy. You seem to embody everything he ever hoped he could get out of a partner. You saw him for the man he actually is, not the one you wished he could be. You treated his jagged and broken edges with gentle understanding and care, instead of choosing to throw him out with the trash like so many others had before.

You made him feel like a man capable of giving and receiving love and affection. You weren’t just a flickering candle in the dark. You were a bright, shining beacon, like a lighthouse in a storm. Your light chased away his insecurities and made him believe that he could do the impossible. He wanted to spend every day of the rest of his life basking in your radiance.

“Steve! Oh my- Oh!” Your back arches and your entire body quakes with the power of the orgasm that crashes through you.

The way you clamp around him has Steve seeing stars. Just a few more quick thrusts and he’s emptying himself into you. Your bodies quiver in tandem as your hold on the bed frame weakens before you collapse against his chest. You’re both sweaty and your skin sticks together, but neither of you seems to mind.

“That…” he starts, in between his heaving breaths. “Was pretty incredible.”

You release a tired giggle and attempt to move at least part of your weight off of him. There’s not much room to go anywhere on the tiny, single-person cot, though. His hands slide up from your ass, to curl around your waist, and he keeps you close. His cock, limp and satiated, slips out from your folds when you shift back, landing with a wet slap against his thigh. You can feel a dribble of his thick cum beginning to leak out from between your legs, but you are entirely too worn-out to do anything about it.

You’re already half asleep by the time Steve tries to coax you up enough to be able to peel back the blanket and sheets on the bed. You tuck your head under his chin and slide a knee between his legs, relishing in the feeling of getting to sleep in his arms one more time. Your sigh of content is the last thing Steve hears before he falls asleep.

Part 7

[alwaysbethewest]

Narcos fic: Not a Moment to Waste

for day 27 of my hyggetober ficlet challenge. today’s prompt is “desk space.” finally at the finish line!!! I had skipped this prompt to come back to so now I only have one prompt left for this challenge.

Steve/Connie/Javier, rated mature, 1100 words. Mostly Javi/Connie because that's what @mourningbirds1 wanted and I live to please her. Contains: a bit of gentle spanking (!), sexual content, polyamory (lol it struck me today that I've never tagged any of my ot3 fics with that??? but like. yeah), and references to drinking. Unbetaed, per usual.

   Sometimes an aesthetic is more visually pleasing than it is practical. The old desk they’ve got pushed up against one wall of the living room looks nice—it’s big and solid wood and it looks elegant and grounds the space—and the mirror hanging over it brightens the workspace by reflecting the light. But the desktop is deep and she finds she has to lean over it to get close enough to the mirror to work on drawing a crisp line of lipstick, her finishing touch before they head out. It’s the nice one Steve bought her for Christmas, a cheery red shade too bright for every day but perfect for a special occasion like this.

Steve is sitting in an armchair skimming through the paper. He’s been ready and waiting patiently for ten minutes while she and Javier fuss over their appearances, though she knows if they take much longer he’ll start to sigh and accuse them of being high maintenance.

As if he’s been summoned, Javi appears behind her in the mirror, and she watches his eyes drift over her figure, taking in the cling of her dress and her bare legs below. He takes a step closer, lingering behind her, and meets her gaze over her shoulder. He smells clean, fresh from the shower and scented with a hint of his warm cologne.

“Has your husband told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

She shakes her head, feeling his hand settle warm and broad just below her waist. “Not yet.”

Steve barely spares them a glance from his spot nearby. “If I told you every time you looked pretty, I’d never shut my mouth,” he protests mildly.

Connie rolls her eyes in amusement and applies a final sheen of lipstick to the middle of her bottom lip before capping the bullet and moving to stand upright.

Javier’s hand stops her, pressing flat against her back and providing just enough resistance it makes her breath catch in surprise. She stills and feels his other hand caress the curve of her ass, fingertips skimming below the hem of her dress. She lets out a breathless laugh.

“We’ll be late,” she warns him. His hand gathers the fabric of her skirt and pushes it up to lay her bare, covered now by nothing more than her thong.

“I don’t care,” he murmurs. He draws his hand back and slaps her ass lightly, glancing down and then back up to watch her face in the mirror, a dirty smirk gracing his own. She wriggles back and pushes again to stand up, knowing he’ll stop her, and he does—she makes it an inch before he’s shoving her down again, rougher this time, and the moan is already forming in her throat before he smacks her ass again, hard enough to make her jump if he didn’t have her pinned in place.

“Baby,” Steve says. He’s looking over at them in interest now. “You know better than to test him.”

“She knows,” Javi agrees. He leans over her to press a kiss behind her ear, nuzzling carefully into her hair. “She just likes it.”

She would bite her lip if it didn’t mean ruining her hard work. She does like it, likes the sting of his hand on her skin and the way he’s pressed against her, holding her down against the desk. If he moved his hand a few inches to the side, she knows, he’d be able to touch her and feel how wet she’s going for him.

She tips her head up to look at her own reflection in the mirror, her bright eyes lined with carefully smoked grey liner and a flush starting to burn across her cheeks, making her look more painted up than she actually is. She squirms fruitlessly under Javi’s weight and gasps when he spanks her again, and as her mouth falls open she thinks of how her lipstick would smear on his skin if he let her up and took her to bed right now. How it will look later tonight, when they get home from this party and he’s gone all martini drunk, soft-eyed and easy for her.

“We’ll be late,” she says again, nearly a whisper. If he fucks her now the way he wants to, her mascara will smudge and her hair will fall from its style, tangled in his grip, and they’ll never make it to the party and they’ll regret it, later.

He holds her gaze for another moment, and then he pulls her dress back down to land at her thighs and wraps his arm under her waist, pulling her upright and holding her against him. He tucks his head next to hers and sways sweetly with her in the mirror.

“You really do look beautiful,” he tells her. “Prettiest one in the room.”

“In this room?” she asks, a little teasing. “Don’t say that, you’ll hurt Steve’s feelings.”

“I know he doesn’t mean it,” Steve says good-naturedly, unfolding himself from his chair. He rolls up his newspaper and swats Javi’s backside with it on his way past them to the door. Javi’s grip on her tightens in surprise and then relaxes, and he’s grinning down at her when he spins her in his arms. He cups one hand around her neck to keep her steady and leans in for a kiss, the lightest press of his lips to hers, pulling away again with traces of lipstick staining his mouth that she has to rub away with her thumb.

Steve is lingering by the front door and the men switch off as they step outside, Steve’s arm settling easy around her shoulders as Javier takes a step away to walk ahead of them to the car. It’s how it’ll be tonight, she knows—she’ll get to indulge in the heat of being tucked against Steve’s side, staying cozied up to him as much as she likes, and they’ll watch Javier together as he makes the rounds or finds a nice girl to focus his attention on for the evening. He’ll top up their drinks and he’ll flirt with Connie like it doesn’t mean anything, like they’re not both still thinking about him bending her over the desk and the slap of his hand on her skin, and he’ll make a show of offering her a cigarette like he’s forgotten she doesn’t smoke, like he doesn’t have her memorized. And then they’ll come back through this door at the end of the night and finally he’ll take a step closer, and give himself up and be theirs again.

  (ETA: this fic now has a sequel: Worth the Wait)

[piratefalls]

A McDanno rec list for a new friend. (These are also authors I enjoy, so consider this a blanket rec list.)

The Bareknuckle Poet by pleasebekidding

After a serious accident left Steve temporarily wheelchair-bound, working towards his recovery, he enrolled at Rutgers for a year. He met Danny Williams in his criminology course, wearing pride pins and chipped black nail polish, so sure of himself that Steve found it breathtaking. What happened next redefined Steve's sense of self, his ambitions, and many of his priorities.

Tax Benefits by renecdote

“Everyone already assumes we’re married so maybe we should just...” Danny gestures broadly with his beer. He’s maybe a little bit… Not drunk, but definitely tipsy.

“For the tax benefits.”

Danny gives him an aggravated look. “Yes, Steven, for the tax benefits.”

Danny (jokingly) suggests they should get married. Steve takes him seriously.

ua kaha aku la ka nalu o kuu aina (the surf has pressed upon my land) by icoulddothisallday, TetrodotoxinB

Steve knows, he learned, how a man behaves. He can play his part. Danny, who is a good man and great father, looks nothing like what Steve was taught. Reconciling the two means giving up everything he's clung too for the last two decades, and there's nothing about it that's easy.

*potentially triggery AF (deals with effects of conversion therapy) but beautifully rendered

the art of leaving and saying goodbye by Verasteine

2007 is the year Danny learns that choice can be the worst kind of heartbreak. AU.

*warning for infidelity (not mcdanno)

in jest by apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

not just friendship (romance too) by earthquakedream

Steve's gone and gotten himself a boyfriend. Danny's not sure what worse: the fact that he's stupidly jealous or that he actually likes the guy.

All I Ever Wanted (It Comes with a Price) by leviarty

Steve gets shot. Again. Danny is not okay.

* warning: a young grace shoots someone to protect both herself and a gravely injured steve

After All Our Troubles, We Have This by Banshi13

"I'm ending this," McGarrett muttered after a few moments of silence. "I'm not coming back until Wo Fat is in the ground. I'll dig his own grave and bury him myself if I have to, but my father is dead, my mother is running all over the world in hiding, my sister and I were uprooted from our lives, and now he's got Danny locked somewhere in a basement in the middle of Japan." He looked both Chin and Kono in the eye, deadly resolve in his eyes. "This ends. Now. This is the absolute last time that man interferes with my life and my family."

The Other Guy by haldoor

Danny tells Steve what he thinks is a funny story from when he attended Grace's school play. Steve doesn't think it's so funny; in fact, it makes him jealous.

Strapped by stellarmeadow

Steve's determined Danny's going to be prepared next time.

Warm to the Touch by veronicaluv

Danny didn't think twice about going to North Korea to find Steve. He just didn't know everything would go to hell when they got back.

Me and my heart (We got issues) by SquaresAreNotCircles

“I’m in love with you, Steve,” Danny says. He does it softly, quietly, laying the words into the darkness of Steve’s backyard like they’re something breakable, something to be tiptoed around. “I thought you should know.”

Steve’s heart jumps. It rams against his ribcage so hard it’s going to leave bruises. So hard he startles awake, and he almost yells before he realizes he’s outside because he fell asleep in one of the garden chairs in his backyard again.

how to be gay for your best friend in ten easy steps by commatme

See, the thing is that Danny doesn’t really do gay sex, what with being straight and all, but when Steve says I love you he sounds so earnest he makes Danny want to consider it. Which is crazy, right? He’s pretty sure that’s crazy, or at least a little unhinged.

It’s Not So Easy Caving In by paradis

The one where Danny used to be a heroin addict.

blame it on the ocean view by carryokee

Danny gives in, freaks out, and comes to his senses.

So Have I Loved You by Brumeier

In which Grace has a surprise for Steve's birthday and there's not a dry eye in the house.

take it back to a couple years yesterday by itsrosencrantz

Danny really, really doesn't want to go to his twenty year high school reunion.

Steve decides they're going anyway, and Danny takes it about as well as you'd expect.

View From The Shipwreck by flowerfan

Danny Williams isn’t in a great place – he’s a reluctant transplant to Oahu and an outsider at HPD. Former Navy SEAL Steve McGarrett isn’t doing much better, having suffered a career ending injury. When Danny’s young daughter Grace wanders into Steve’s bar after getting lost on a school field trip, Danny is drawn to Steve, somewhat against his better judgement – he’s got enough on his plate. He’s not exactly sure what Steve sees in him. As they spend more time together, Danny learns how Steve’s injury has changed his life in many ways, but not the most important ones. As one thing leads to another, Danny realizes that things might be looking up after all.

True North by lavvyan

“Tell you what, my dad’s throwing his annual Christmas Ball on Saturday. It’s not a trip to Aspen or anything, but it is nice. Fancy food and everything. You guys should come!”

On the trail of a suspected war criminal, Steve and Danny have to go undercover at a fancy ball. The sacrifices they make for the job.

Oh, and Steve's pining like the taiga. Nothing new there.

outside the lines by withoutwords

“I’m Detective Williams.” Danny says, not trying too hard to keep it smug free. “This is my partner, Detective Mackenzie.”

Ken Doll keeps his arms up, his eyes flickering between them all as if he's only seeing police for the first time. “Good cover,” he tells Danny, and it sets Danny’s teeth on edge.

“This is the part where you say sorry for assaulting a police detective, for compromising an investigation, and for acting like a complete asshole while doing it,” Danny growls, about to change his mind and cuff the guy himself.

“Sorry, Officer.”

The bastard is still grinning.

Boys Like Me, We Try Too Hard by romanticallyinept

Steve's always wound so fucking tight.

And Danny's worried about him. Legitimately worried about him. Because maybe Steve always lays into the perps a little hard, and maybe he follows his own rules and his own morals and doesn't stop to sleep unless his body's actually shutting down around him, but usually, Steve's okay at the end of the day. Usually, Steve's not leaning against the wall of the alley they're in, eyes closed and shaking, with the perp he'd cuffed a minute earlier lying on the ground and crying about his broken nose.

Steve keeps a secret, and Danny does his best to patch him back up when it comes to light.

Transformative by boxparade

“You know, I’d heard you’d changed a lot after high school, but I’ve gotta admit, this is a little weird.”

* trans (FTM) Danny

All the Way by VictoriaAGrey

Danny has lost count of how many times he and Steve have used the sexual tension between them for undercover work, only for it to be bottled away after the op is over. With Saint Michael as his witness, that ends tonight.

Nocturne in C# Minor (featuring Stevie Ray Vaughn) by minor_demimonde

So, to recap, Danny has beautiful eyes, great shoulders, a pleasantly-shaped butt, a delectable mouth, expressive hands, and he smells good.

You know, Steve has gone to bed with women who didn’t have that much going for them.

seen it in the flight of birds by Siria

AU from the beginning of Season 2. The Five-0 task force has been reinstated, but the new governor's determined to shake things up. Facing changes and unexpected betrayals, the team has to work together to face new challenges.

It Ain’t Me Babe (Nah), It Ain’t Me You’re Looking For (Babe) by tourdefierce

A story in which Danny makes lists and can't find his heterosexuality underneath all his homogay, Steve has a lot of faces, Kono is perfect in every way and Chin continues to keep Hawaii safe from the Five-O's general disfunction—Or, a story about Kono being awesome and how she likes her men with hearts in their eyes for each other.

Ratios, Decimals, and Percentages by fuchs

In which Steve takes an internet quiz and slowly loses his mind. Danny's okay with it.

Let’s Dance Like We Used To by AndreaLyn

There isn't a world in which Danny wouldn't go after Grace. So when Rachel moves the family to California, Danny goes with. Steve gets left to process life without Danny.

Gunfire, Rainfall, and Beach Erosion by thegrrrl2002

Steve and Danny are kidnapped. After which there is too much swimming and too much rain and it's all very romantic. If you are Steve, that is.

Moving In (To Every Single Aspect of Danny’s Life, Including the Boring Bits like Dry-Cleaning by westgirl

It felt wrong for Steve to sound unsure of his place in Danny’s life. His place in Danny’s life was at Danny’s side, driving him slowly insane. Steve should feel secure about that.

Always Known What I Wanted To Be by mickeysixx

Grace Williams has always wanted to be a cop.

The Taper Phase by popfly

It’s like being run over by an armored car, like the impact of gunshot to tac vest. The pride Danny feels for his daughter and something else, something about Steve’s tank top sticking to his stomach, the way his shorts stretch across his thighs. The goofy grin that lights up Steve’s face when he sees Danny and Charlie, waving one hand while he nudges Grace with the other.

Pitching Woo by SBG

In which Danny pitches (and then accidentally catches) woo.

clue: four letters, ‘is a many splendored thing’ by armillarysphere

“Crosswords? What are you, sixty?”

“They stimulate brain activity, Danno. You ought to try it sometime.”

Steve doesn’t even look up from his newspaper, half-chewed pen resting at the corner of his mouth in an entirely too distracting way.

That’s Not Just Friendship, That’s Romance by thismuchmore

Danny and Steve start out accidentally dating each other, and it turns into something more.

it’s not what you’re sure of (it’s what you don’t know) by somehowunbroken

Art thief Steve McGarrett and his team come up against FBI Special Agent Danny Williams, and things spin wildly out of control from there.

Same Deep Water by JiM, kalena

This isn't the first lifetime Danny's been in Hawaii. When the stress ratchets up, the dreams get more and more real. Turns out Danny has some unfinished business . . . with Steve.

Warning: Ambien use may lower inhibitions in a wakeful state.

Curiosity Didn’t Kill This Cat by unadrift

"I'm confused," Rachel says. "Are you two dating or not?"

Danny sighs. "You remember that thing with the cat in the box? The one that's both dead and alive?"

"Schroedinger's cat?"  

"It's kind of like that."

"Okay," Rachel says. She clearly has no idea what he's talking about.

2727 Piikoi Street by imaginary_iby

The ways in which Danny makes himself at home by Steve's side, and the family he gains as the years go by. (Featuring Steve in Timberland boots and little else, and happy goofs who like to make out against the front door).

All The Earth Awaits Thee by Portrait_of_a_Fool

Steve knows all about war and willpower, but this is still the hardest battle he’s ever had to fight.

* warning: life threatening illness, no MCD

The Vertical Challenge by AlamoGirl80

Five times Danny thinks about his height, and then realizes that being "not-tall" doesn't really suck at all.

Some Things to Think About When You Decide to Be an Asshole by sutlers

Steve gets high and tries to fuck Danny; things devolve from there.

Inked by thehoyden

Of course Steve is enjoying himself. They're bait for a serial killer who has some sort of serious hangup about tattooing loved ones' names on their skin -- of course Steve thinks this is practically like a vacation, but better, because the chances of collateral damage are higher.

This Thing Of Ours (It Needs a Better Name) by leupagus

Cosa Nostra: (kō'sə nō'strə) etym: Italian n. The branch of the Mafia operating in the United States. Literally, "our thing" or "this thing of ours."

Ho’oponopono by ember_firedrake

Groundhog Day AU. Danny finds himself trapped in the same day over and over again.

Swim for Brighter Days by zarah5

Danny kisses Steve late on a Tuesday, early on a Wednesday. Steve punches him. (Set vaguely post-finale, so spoilers for that.)

All My Guards Away by sheafrotherdon

Tag to episode 1x18, with all the heartache that implies. Now with bonus fixes. With thanks to dogeared for all her suggestions and edits.

Let’s Take it from the Top by pterawaters

Steve goes along with the bachelor-party-in-Vegas, because he chose Danny to be his best man, and that's what Danny wants to do. Unfortunately, the things that happen in Vegas don't necessarily stay there.

How to Keep Your Mouth Shut by primetime

Danny’s sometimes gay. Gay, sometimes. Does dudes. He doesn’t know how to say it right. He doesn’t know how to say it at all.

Don’t Turn Me Home Again by gyzym

After a rough day of island living, Danny wakes up in New Jersey and learns the hard way to be careful what he wishes for.

End-Around by t_fic

Steve hesitates with his hand on the doorknob, looking back over his shoulder at Danny and nodding once before disappearing inside, and yeah, Danny is going to be so fucking lucky to get through this night without a coronary event.

Lonely People Do Stupid Things by waketosleep

Danny decides to show Steve the true meaning of Christmas, and does it by dragging him to New Jersey.

Down Beneath the Waves by samjohnsson

A picture may be worth a thousand words, but sometimes it takes another thousand to explain it.

Love’s a Battlefield (and the Navy Did Not Train Steve for This Shit) by cyerus

The Kalakaua-Kelly clan are determined to matchmake Steve. Out of desperation, Steve makes up a boyfriend named Danny.

It doesn't quite go according to plan.

put your mind at ease by eleanor_lavish

Somewhere in the last year, while Steve was busy killing bad guys, Don’t Ask Don’t Tell has been erased from the books and guys like Jeff can marry whoever they damn well please.

You’ve Got Hawaii (and all I’ve got is you) by queenklu

In which Danny has issues, presents, and Steve fleas, not necessarily in that order.

Jaws by JoeLawson

Danny has a secret.

[thekillingjoke-haha]

Tag You’re It

Squares: Game Night(Truth or dare) & Quote

Marvel and Supernatral Bingo, Spnquotebingo

Paring: Stephen Strange x Mutant Reader(at the end)

Warnings?: Intense tag,touching?, and cursing

Tagged: @spnquotebingo & @thisismysecrethappyplace

“Someone slapped my ass!?!” “LaNgUaGe!” “Give it a rest.” Was shouted throughout the tower.

~One Hour Before~~~

It was game night at the Avengers compound and that meant chaos and the lucky one to pick the game of the night was the famous (S/n). Friday closed all the window and left all doors open,but the front. It was pitch black except for the black light that replaced the florescent on the ceiling everything was neon.

Each group of people had two colored hands that left a mark on a opponents suit. Team red/white paint has Steve,Bucky and Sam,team purple/green paint has Natasha,Wanda,and Clint,team yellow/orange paint has Tony,Stephen, and Peter. Bruce and Vision sat out since one can go through walls and the other can get stressed easily. Y/n wasn’t on a team though it was a special request her hands dawned pink and blue. Every one went to randomized floors of the tower as the two judges stayed in the common room looking at the scoreboard on the tv so when the game ends it will round up. Tag as many people as many times as possible each time someone is tagged they must go to a small check point before trying to tag again. Without further a due. “May the games begin. In 3….2….1….Play!” And that they did.

Y/n moved swiftly through the halls stopping when she sees movement in the corner of her eye almost giggling aloud. Peter was on the ceiling,but he seemed to have forgotten about the paint on his hands leaving a trail. Waiting in a low arch way for him to be more in her reach. Getting close she placed her hands on him in a non-threatening way causing his spidey sense to stay calm. “AHHH!!!” Peter screamed turning to see the older women. “Heya,Pete.” Squishing his cheeks covering them in paint she used her own powers to escape before he tagged her too. On to the next.

Using the neon lighting she traveled throughout the tower the glow leaving her as she re-materialized. Natasha and Wanda stood with the backs facing her. A wicked smile twisted on her face as she cleared her mind to not give herself away to the witch. Her hands grabbed the youngest female on the hips causing her to jolt.“Gotcha!” She smiled as she neon traveled away from the hand coming for her. “Almost had me,but Romanoff your playing my game.” That’s when the short spearing match began. Can’t let a open hand touch while also trying to get close enough to place their own mark.

Blocking was almost impossible for Y/n trying to avoid the right hand that almost smacked her. “A bitch slap is a cheap shot.” Lifting her hand she caught the redheads wrist before they can touch her shoulders. “How is she so good at this?” Nat asked herself as she started to walk off to a nearby check point. Time to hunt get the rest of the boys. It’s looks like its bird hunting season.

Clint sneaked off after his two teammates were tagged he hid in the vents,but a down and upside was it was pitch black which meant Y/n couldn’t use her powers and Clint couldn’t see were he was going. Shouting was heard below him on a floor he wasn’t sure about. “God dammit Sam you were suppose to be watching our backs!” Bucky yelled they both went to a check point. “I was looking!? She just popped up! Why do you think I have a fucking hand print on my face!!” Sam said at the same volume. Barton snickered speaking to himself lower then a whisper. “Ha,those idiots couldn’t cover themselves. Only amateurs never look behind them.” He said he glanced behind himself seeing dim black light from the vent cover. “Only morons never look in front of them.” A scream echoed through out the tower being carried by the vents and no one in the tower batted a eye at it.

The last remaining were Steve,Tony,and Stephen. Y/n hasn’t be tagged once while the two of the six original Avengers have been tagged once or twice dawning red and green paint. Steve wandered around trying to find his team or anyone to tag and just a floor above him the two goatee narcissistic men split up. The stare spangled man was face to face with the genius playboy. “So..it’s happening all over again.” The blonde said circling the brunette. “I guess it is,but you don’t have your Bucky bear to help you now.” Tony snarked seeing he had no team at the moment. “And you don’t have your suit what a shame I wanted a challenge.”

A small chuckle came from the corner of the room that went unheard as the charged towards one another. Y/n sat in the corner of the room quietly eating popcorn as she watch the fight. Everything was in Steve’s favor,but with Tony being smaller he can avoid and reach his appointed faster. With sigh she stood up it was fun while it lasted,but she needed to get them out. She slipped up behind Steve with neither of them noticing and her right hand came down fast as she darted away. “Someone just slapped my ass!” He yelped turning his head to look at the pink hand print. “LaNgUaGe.” Tony said mocking him. “That was five years ago can you give it a rest!?!” Before the brunette could deny his plea a hand smoked his cheek leaving blue. “Dammit sis!!! Why the face??!”

One last person Stephan was paint free and wanted it to stay that way. The doctor levitated off the ground and swiftly moved around the tower. The shirt he wore was given to him since he didn’t want paint on his actual clothes. Neon triangles over his chest made him able to be spotted,but also blend in with the rest of the halls. Stephan was about to turn the corner when he wrist were pinned to the wall. “Hello,Strange.” The figures that was completely black with neon outlining features. “L/n. Seems you’ve caught me by surprise.” He huffed getting ready to leave,but a squeeze to his still restrained wrist stopped him.

“You’re not leaving quite yet I won’t count that touch,but I finally got you alone.” A Chester sized grin pulled on her lips. “Levi a little help please?” She asked and the cloak left Stephen’s shoulders and proceeded to constrict his movements. “Really on her side?!” He hissed at the relic cursing under his breath. “Stop your whining!” The insults stopped as his gaze shifted back to her luminescent form. “Tony told me to go for it,but you were always nose deep in a book or too busy protecting the sanctum. Figured this is my chance.” Y/n sighed trying to rid herself of any nerves. “Y/n what are you talking abou—?!?”

His words died as she leaned forward and kissed him. Stephen was in shock his eyes wide before they drifted shut enjoying the moment. He was a man of logic,but no matter how many scenarios pop up or the infinite possibilities in the universe he could see never would the doctor have guessed that the girl that was there for him through it all would ever feel the same. “My brother told me…If you desire something,just take it. I’m kind of glad I took his advice!” Y/n said resting her forehead on his. A small giggle left her throat at the dazed look on his face.

“Oh and Stephen…tag you’re it.” With that she traveled away. Levi let him go as he looked at his chest. Two hand prints rested in the center of his disposable shirt glowed bright as he smiled. Tag was his new favorite game.

==============================================================

A/n: One more to go…I wanted this square to be a bit different then others I’ve seen and who doesn’t like a mix of paint ball and tag?!

Quote: “If you desire something, just take it.” - Lucifer

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

never let you go (1)

Summary: After losing the woman they love, Bucky and Steve make a desperate decision with unimaginable consequences. 

Characters: Stucky x Reader Warnings: Heavy angst. Brief character death (with a return). Violence, blood, demons, and gore. SMUT (m/f/m, brief m/m, masturbation). An appearance by everyone’s favorite Hunters (SPN crossover).

Prompt: “Heartache is one thing, but this…this is worse.”

A/N: This is my submission for the fantastic @sherrybaby14​ for Sherry’s Fall Into You challenge, thanks babe for hosting. This is a dark story fam, different than my usual writing. Bucky and Steve really do make some bad decisions, so please heed the warnings. This is a short series, only 2-3 parts.

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Looking back, it happened so fast.

Night was stealing over the horizon when the mission was officially called. Bad guys in handcuffs, team members safe, the world still turning. On the roof of a nearby office building, you stood between Bucky and Steve, smiling in relief.

Smiling, smiling, smiling.

You were smiling right before the bomb went off.

Later, Bucky remembers the shock on your face, the shape of Steve’s mouth screaming. He remembers that swoop in his belly, the weightless feel of wild loops on a rollercoaster. He remembers your piercing cry as the floor gave way beneath three pairs of boots, bodies knocking together in a choking sea of crumbling concrete and screeching steel.

And when the smoke cleared, when your broken fingers found his and Bucky saw your lips stained with sticky red, he knew instantly. He knew and he knew you knew. You’d seen enough injuries to recognize death when it beckons. Steve was shouting, clambering over a broken wall, fighting through piles of debris to where you lay pinned beneath the unforgiving stone. He collapsed beside you, trembling soot-smudged fingers cupping your face.

No more than a minute passed. Sixty short seconds of breaking and bleeding and screaming, now stretching into an unending lifetime of regret. One minute more, before your small sips of breath slow into nothing. They stay with you until the end, each with their hands on you, comforting and pleading to stay, please stay, we love you, please don’t leave.

But Death cares little for love.

When they emerged from the ruins, Steve carried your broken body, Bucky staggering numbly behind. The world shifts.

Three days later, comes the funeral. Black suits, black dresses, black casket. A rainbow of flowers for a life overflowing with love and laughter. The formalities of grief are observed, those unfailingly dependable motions polite society demands.

Steve, ever the stalwart public figure, does most of the work. Shaking hands and speaking quietly and nodding gravely at words of condolence. On the fringes of the crowd, away from the crush of sympathy Bucky stands pale and hidden. Despite concern and questions, not a single word has passed his lips since that day.

Finally it ends, the last well-wisher is whisked into the night, and they’re left alone. Two men shattered by tragedy, hearts burning with a soul consuming love for a woman they couldn’t save.

Before a crackling fire, Steve sits slumped in your favorite chair. Cocooned in silent misery, red-rimmed eyes wide and unseeing, he holds a heavy crystal tumbler loose in his hand.

When he sucks in a sharp, strangled breath, Bucky looks over.

The tumbler slips from Steve’s hand, bouncing soundlessly on the plush grey rug and he stands quickly, stumbling toward the fireplace. The flames are strangely welcoming, translucent beams of fractured light breaking through the room.

“Get it off,” he suddenly chokes out. Panic bleeds off him in waves, and he yanks at his tie. The knot tightens and Steve begins to sweat, voice rising higher. “Get it off, now, get it off, get it all off! Please! Please Bucky, please!”

Startled, Bucky leaps up. He pulls the jacket down Steve’s flailing arms and watches in confusion as Steve strips off the rest.

Tie, shirt, belt.

Trousers, boxers, socks.

Ripping the jacket dangling from Bucky’s fingers, Steve rolls everything into a ball and shoves it into the fireplace. Flames lick along his hands, instantly scalding his fingertips with angry red blisters, but he pays no attention. The fire is quick to take, wrapping everything in ringlets of blue and orange, greedily devouring the gift.

As he stands naked in the living room, Steve begins to shiver.

“I don’t know if I can - can do this. Heartache is one thing, but this…this is worse.” he gasps. He crouches on the floor, puts his head between his knees. “This is worse, this is - this is fu-fucking worse.”

Shadows dance through the room while the fire consumes the remnants of the funeral suit. Good riddance of course. There’s no way on earth he’d wear those clothes again.

The wet, broken rasp of Steve’s sobs are the only sound in the room. Bucky wants to help, but there’s nothing left inside him. No reassurances, no words of relief. The solace of love that filled their home has evaporated, leaving nothing more than a wisp of memory.

*****

Their world ends, but as always - the days go by.

*****

One morning Bucky wakes up, head still full of foggy dreams. Lost happiness. He comes awake slowly, bleary eyed and so painfully hard he’s ashamed of that fact.

He sets the shower to a burning rain and stands under the deluge. Closes his eyes and lets the heat sear his skin to a sheet of bright red, trying desperately to wash away those heartbreaking dreams of you, safe and perfect in his arms. He palms himself roughly at the thought, trying to ease the ache. There’s a feeling of disgust that accompanies the touch, humiliated frustration at such a base instinct.

He tells himself he can finish it quick, make it go away. Take the edge off.

With one wet hand on slippery tile, he wraps the other around himself and jerks. He hates himself for picturing you. Beautiful lips, beautiful skin, beautiful eyes. The sound of your voice hitching, sweet sighs of pleasure when he touches your body.

He tells himself the water sluicing down his face is the shower. He tells himself he’s fine. This is stress relief. Something to relax. But when he comes all over his hand, his knees buckle and Bucky collapses, crumpling to a ball on the floor of the cavernous shower. Staring up at the ceiling, the water pelts his face until the burning heat turns icy cold.

The dampness on his face, is the shower. They are not tears. He is fine.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

*****

One evening, Steve takes a drive.

Out of Manhattan, past the safe lights of suburbia, further north until he hits the solitude of wilderness. He drives until he finds the path he knows, bumping over gnarled roots, wheels grinding pathetically in the silent night. When it ends, he gets out and continues on foot. Pushing through a dense copse of trees, swiping away the sharp branches reaching for him. He walks and walks, until he reaches what he needs.

Moonlight bathes the small clearing in a white glow, and he walks forward until he’s in the middle of the tranquil space. Cold dew soaks into his jeans when he kneels in the stubby grass, but he doesn’t notice. Tipping his head back, he looks up at the stars.

He screams. On and on and on, the sounds echoing back at him, reverberating off the wall of trees, sending sleeping birds into screeching flight. He screams and he screams, rage and grief and the raw devastation of heartbreak so potent he nearly faints. He screams when he remembers the tears in your eyes silently begging for help, and he screams at the impotence of knowing he could do nothing but watch your life bleed away. He screams for himself, for Bucky, for you. Steve screams until his voice is gone, until the soft tissue inside his throat is swollen and shredded and he spits up blood.

And then he staggers to his feet, pushing back through the trees, until he reaches his car. He climbs inside and turns for home.

He comes back the next night. And the one after that.

Again, and again, and again. Step and repeat.

*****

…and the lonely days melt into weeks…

*****

Neither man is deemed fit for combat, both stripped of duties and relegated to wait. Recover, the therapists say. Rest and recover. Work will always be there. Wait it out, until you feel normal.

Bucky punches a hole through their front door at the condescending support. As if he could wait it out. As if that’s a real thing. As if this grief will ever do anything but grind his heart to mush.

Instead of avenging, they pass the time with mundane things. Searching for purpose, finding none.

In the middle of a stormy night, with the world asleep in their beds, they find themselves in an empty gym. Sweat slick fists and knees jabbing, punching, kicking, sparing with vicious intensity. The pace is blindingly fast, sharply efficient. Back and forth they move, a deadly dance that temporarily takes their minds away from the present, from that gaping loss that will never heal.

On and on they move, until Bucky sweeps his leg and Steve misses the jump. He tumbles to the ground, and Bucky pins him neatly against the mat. Breathing hard, Steve stares up, anguish turning him inside out. He opens his mouth and Bucky already knows what’s coming.

“Steve,” he warns.

“I miss her,” Steve whispers. Misery coats the words, sticky with despair.

“Stop,” Bucky snaps. He scrambles to his feet, turns toward the door. “Don’t you fucking do this, I told you we ain’t talking about it.”

Steve climbs sluggishly to his feet. He rubs his eyes, feels the burn of pooling tears. It’s so natural these days, that prickling heat. Looking up, he sees the tense muscles in Bucky’s hunched shoulders, and he can’t stop from asking.

“Do you - do you remember when it was just the two of us? When we were enough?” he asks hoarsely, and Bucky whips around. Rushing Steve, he catches him around the waist and slams him against the padded blue wall. There’s a faint whir of shifting plates and a metal fist pounds the mat, an inch from Steve’s tear-streaked cheek. He doesn’t even flinch, staring bleakly at the rage in Bucky’s face.

Without missing a beat, Bucky grabs a handful of sweaty shirt and hauls him forward, a furious snarl preceding a bruising kiss. Steve goes easily, their lips moving in a violent rhythm against each other.

When Bucky breaks away, he spins Steve around, shoves him face first against the wall. Without a word, he yanks down Steve’s shorts and kicks his feet apart. This is the first time they’ve touched each other since that day, and the intimacy that blooms is brutal.

Rough thrusts. Quiet grunts. Sex is a race to the finish, both betting on themselves and doing everything in their power to win. Bucky fucks into him, hips snapping recklessly, and Steve wraps a hand around himself, jerking quickly. No more than a minute later and it’s over, tempers cooling like the shimmering film of sweat on their skin.

Panting harshly against Steve’s neck, Bucky answers the question, his voice hollow.

“Yeah I remember. Doesn’t matter. We won’t be again.”

*****

…on and on it goes, until weeks blur into months.

*****

Time passes, but there is no movement for them. Every step forward comes with five steps back, regressing into a despair with no end in sight. How can you hope to move on, when the best part of yourself is lost, gone, rotting away in a white marble mausoleum in a Brooklyn cemetery?

How the fuck can you survive, when the light you’ve been living for goes out?

Lying in bed one cold October night, these are the thoughts traipsing through Steve’s head. Beside him, Bucky is wrapped in an old blanket, unwashed hair fanning in dark tangles across his pillow, and for a long time, Steve watches him. He knows when the nightmares arrive. Bucky begins to shake, soft sounds slipping through clenched teeth, whimpers of a cornered dog with no way out. Steve reaches for him.

At the pressure on his arm, Bucky wakes with a strangled moan. Kicking away the blanket, he sits up, twisting to look at Steve. Sweat pours down his face, until Steve looks closer and understands.

Tears.

Chest heaving, Bucky glares at him.

“No, god dammit, fucking - fuck you,” he spits out, choked by tears. “I told you not to wake me up, never wake me up. She was there, I almost had her, she was - she was there, I could’ve - “

Shaking furiously, he scrambles out of bed, dragging the blanket behind him. Moments later, Steve flinches when the bathroom door slams so hard, the walls of their apartment shake.

The thought comes again. When every shred of hope is abandoned, when the devils of despair are hungering for your sanity, what can you possibly do? How can you go on?

There in that room, rising from the depths of hell, an idea comes.

Shadowy images fill his head, blurry mission reports and hazy pictures. A thick binder with a peculiar collection of information, full of monsters and demons and evil that goes bump in the night. Scary stories he and Bucky read as kids, huddled together under his bedspread.

Steve thinks of SHIELD letterhead and a list of names with an unfamiliar title.

Hunters, he thinks. The word ‘Hunters’ was typed at the top of that list.

He gets an idea. Steve gets a terrible, horrible, beautiful idea.

*****

North of Chicago, in a greasy diner rank with the sour scent of body odor, four men are squeezed into a red booth. The cracked vinyl is peeling away in places, sharp edges revealing yellowed stuffing and frayed threads, and when Bucky lays his arm across the back, it pinches his skin. Beside him, Steve sits stiffly, hands folded next to a chipped ceramic mug of lukewarm coffee.

Hunched across from them, shoveling syrup-soaked pancakes in his mouth, Dean Winchester thumbs over his shoulder at the chalkboard sign above the counter.

“Pig ’N a Poke. Always good.”

No one responds. An awkward silence blankets the uncomfortably full booth, until Bucky clears his throat.

“So you two -“ he motions between the two men, “you’re, what? Together?”

Swearing under his breath, Dean rolls his eyes and keeps eating. “Why the hell does everyone ask that? No. We’re brothers. God damn.”

Crammed beside Dean, Sam Winchester observes the two super soldiers. Toying with the edge of his coffee cup, he fixes them with a thoughtful stare.

“Sorry we dodged your calls, we uh, we try to stay away from SHIELD,” he says wryly. “Not much good ever comes from it.”

“Yeah, last time we got involved, you dicks got my car impounded,” Dean pipes up, spraying bits of pancake across the table. Fixing him with a dark glare, Bucky slowly wipes it off his cheek. Dean grins.

Ignoring the exchange, Steve leans forward, gripping the coffee cup to steady his nervous hands. He takes a deep breath.

“We won’t say anything. SHIELD can’t know we’re here. I read a report about - about something that happened. About something you did. It said - “ He pauses, debating his next words. They tumble out in a rush of breath. “It said you know how to make deals. With certain kinds of - people. The kind of deals that need to stay off the radar.”

Everyone in the cramped booth freezes. The pancake laden fork briefly hovers in midair, before clattering to the table.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Steve gathers himself and tips his chin up.

“Not even a little.”

Dean leans back. Eyes flitting between the two men, perhaps gauging their sanity. It takes a full minute before he speaks.

“Man, you fucking superheroes are something else, you know that? I don’t know what you read in that report you found Captain, but you think there’s something you need that’s worth an eternity literally burning in hell? Is that what I’m hearing?”

Neither answers immediately. Bucky looks aside, out the dust smeared window, to the black Impala parked in front. He wonders briefly where the Winchesters found it. He always wanted one.

“We lost someone.”

At Steve’s quiet admission, Bucky turns back with a ferociously defiant expression and Sam’s eyes soften.

“Yeah. We heard about that. I’m sorry.”

Steve acknowledges the condolence with a stiff nod, while Bucky schools his face into a blank mask. Looking between the two men, Dean takes a deep breath.

“Listen, I’m sorry about what happened, I really am. But I’m not gonna sugar coat this for you. My suggestion? Get some god damn therapy and figure out how to move on. Me and Sammy, we’ve both been down there and this isn’t some bullshit scare tactic, or some ghost story you heard in Sunday school. This is fucking real. And it doesn’t end. Ever. This is forever. Hell is forever. Do you get that?”

“I know a thing or two about hell,” Bucky says drily, taking a sip of coffee. He feels a funny lurch in his belly when Dean levels him with a pitying stare.

“No. You don’t.”

Arms crossed on the flaking linoleum table, Bucky sits forward. “Listen kid, I’m under no illusions about my future. All the shit I’ve done, every crime, every murder, you think I don’t know where I’m ending up? No amount of heavenly forgiveness is gonna take that away. This ends bloody for me no matter what path I choose. So, enlighten me here. Why the hell shouldn’t I make it count?”

Silence hangs over the table. Beside him, Bucky feels Steve’s hand on his thigh, a comforting squeeze. He understands. For all Steve’s comments about the past not being Bucky’s fault, of course he considered this outcome.

Across the table, Sam quietly clears his throat, murmuring low.

“Dean -”

“No, this is horseshit and you know it. You can’t - “ he stops when he seems the firm resolve on both faces. And honestly? Dean Winchester has been a lost cause often enough to recognize a case when he sees one. “Fine. If you boys do this, that’s it. There’s no going back. You understand that? You are on your own. We can’t save you.”

“Yes,” Steve grits out. “We understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do. You make a deal like this and that’s it. There’s no get out of jail. Hell comes calling and that bitch’ll rip you limb from limb, before she drags you to rot down below.”

The words have no effect. Steve peers sideways at Bucky and finds him perfectly relaxed.

“We appreciate the concern. But we’re good.”

Mumbling all manner of obscenities under his breath, Dean digs inside his jacket until he finds a small yellow notepad and a dull pencil. Slapping it on the table, he writes. List, instructions, locations. He rips the paper out and flings it at Steve.

“This is on your heads.”

Nodding his thanks, Steve folds the paper and tucks it carefully in his pocket. The broken leather of the booth creaks and squeaks as he exits, Bucky sliding out behind him.

Side by side, they look down at the Winchester brothers. All four men have been perpetually hounded by some form of death their entire lives; it seems inevitable they would meet before the end.

Offering a faint smile, Bucky shrugs.

“Haven’t you ever loved someone so much, you’d move heaven and earth to bring them back?”

*****

Under the full moon, Steve cracks the small tin box for one final look.

A polaroid of him and Bucky. A clear glass vial of graveyard dirt from a small plot in Brooklyn. The leg bone from a black cat, a stray they saw skulking in an alley; Steve had caught it and did the dirty work there. Bucky always was a bleeding heart when it came to animals.

Crouched in the dead center of the crossroad, Bucky carves out a small hole with smooth metal fingers. When Steve hands him the box, he places it carefully, angling it just right.

Piling the dirt back over, Bucky pats it down and stands, legs suddenly shaky, heart hammering in fear. Dusting off his hands, he edges closer to Steve.

“Now what?”

Steve says nothing. He stares at the stalks of yellow flowers lining the road, waving gently in the night air, and the innocuous sight sends a shiver rippling down his spine.

“Well, well, well. Two super soldiers? This is one hell of a surprise.”

The voice is soft, gentle. Musical in a way, like windchimes on a sunny day or the faint hum of birds warbling in the morning.

It turns their blood to ice.

Both men whirl simultaneously, discovering a woman standing behind them. Dressed in a wispy white dress, dark hair falls in thick waves down her back, bottle green eyes framed by long lashes. When she smiles, a dimple appears.

Beautiful. Ethereal. The kind of woman who could lure a man into anything.

She blinks. Shining in the moonlight, the green disappears and another color slides in place. Sickeningly bright, hot as fire.

Red.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve hisses, stumbling back a step back and she laughs.

“No, I’m afraid not.”

Beside him, Bucky feels Steve trembling, and he reaches for his hand, tangling their fingers together. The gesture fills them both with a renewed courage, and Steve clears his throat.

“We want to - we need - we need to make a deal. There’s someone. We need to bring someone back. To life.”

She whistles, long and low. “Hmm. That’s a tall order boys. I’ll need something good to make this worth my while.”

“The deal is 10 years, right?” Steve motions between him and Bucky. “We each get 10 years, and then - then -“ he trips over the words, unable to finish the grisly statement. Amused, she lets him flounder. “Then we’re - then we’ll go.”

“Normally yes. Those are the standard terms, but for you two? I don’t know. Feels like I could get myself in trouble for taking from such - virile specimens.”

“But we want to deal,” Steve argues.

The white dress flows like water as she strolls forward. Stopping before them, she trails a finger down Bucky’s silver arm, and he shudders.

“Maybe we could come to a different arrangement. If you’re interested.”

“Like what?”

“Well boys, I think you might be worth far more above ground than below. So how about this.” Green eyes gleaming, Bucky has the gruesome sense of a spider moving silently along her web, stalking two struggling flies. “I know who you want, and I’ll bring her back, safe and sound. Deliver her right to your door, and both of you stay up here. Souls intact. For one tiny price.”

Too good to be true. Far too good. Bucky waits for the pin to drop.

“What tiny price?” he breathes.

She smiles. 

And then she answers.

Still clasping hands, Bucky feels cold sweat slicking Steve’s palm. Is this right? Can they really do this? The offer is tantalizing, another level of evil they have yet to fully comprehend. But Bucky knows his mind, what he’s willing to give, and he knows Steve feels the same.

There is no question.

“Deal.”

“Takes a kiss to seal it,” she whispers. Moving close, she curls a hand behind Steve’s neck and pulls his face down. Eyes squeezed shut, mouth drawn in a tight line, he waits it out, a full body shiver rattling his tall frame. Her fingers run through his sweaty blond hair, and he feels sick to his stomach at the way her fingernails scratch so invitingly along his scalp. When she’s had enough, she breaks away in a huff of feigned disappointment.

“Less than inspiring Captain.” Turning to Bucky, she offers a sly smile. “How about you, Soldier? Got anything better?”

Bucky steels himself, as she rises on her toes and presses her mouth to his. He keeps his eyes open, staring forward, and lets her have the kiss, feels her run her tongue along the seam of his lips, a brazen request for more. Parting his lips, he tastes the cloyingly sweet scent of her breath, feels her rub against him, the cool damp of her tongue licking along his teeth.

Forcing himself to disconnect from the moment, he wonders how a kiss can feel so utterly wrong. He wants to turn heel and run, but he’s suddenly and overwhelmingly terrified she might rescind the deal. That she might snatch this burgeoning hope from their begging hands and return to her corner of hell.

So, he lets her have the kiss. Right now, the hideous truth is that he’d give her anything she asked, if it meant he gets you back.

Finally she pulls away, running her fingers down his chest.

“Much better. Now - kiss each other.” Confused, they look at each other and back to her. The seriousness of the request fades and she laughs. “Kidding. Two pretty boys like you, how can I help myself?”

Stepping back, her eerily musical laughter still dancing on the wind, she vanishes.

The night is silent.

Bucky staggers to the yellow flowers and vomits all over them.

*****

Driving along the lonely stretch of highway, they sit in silence. Each wrestling with newfound demons, now more than metaphorical.

“Do you think it worked?” Steve asks, voice hushed and rough.

Bucky stares straight ahead, watching the night zip by, illuminated asphalt between twin beams of light. He says nothing.

*****

Their front door still has a patch on the outside, where Bucky slammed his fist through the wood. It swings quietly when Steve pushes it open, clicking on the hall light. They drop their bags in the entry, walking through the dark apartment.

“But when would we know, that’s what I don’t -“

Steve stops so abruptly, Bucky trips into him from behind.

“Dammit Steve, what - “

In the armchair by the window, sits a familiar silhouette. Barefoot, wearing a long-sleeved blue t-shirt and jeans, someone turns to face them.

Shocked silence billows out, thick and bottomless. There’s a strangled gasp and Steve flings out an arm, blocking Bucky from running at you.

“Wait,” he hisses, “Buck, just - just wait.”

Bewildered, you watch their cautious movements, small shuffles inching closer. When they’re two feet away, Steve stops them again.

“Hold out your hand,” he whispers raggedly, and you stare in confusion. He shakes his head, still holding Bucky back with one arm and motions for your hand. Extending it slowly, you offer it palm up. Steve fishes out a small bottle from his pocket, trembling fingers flipping the lid, and with a deep breath, he splashes holy water all over your hand.

He cringes, waiting.

Nothing.

Staring curiously at the innocent water droplets, you look up.

“Steve, what is this? What’s happening?”

At the sound of your exhausted voice, a broken howl rips from Bucky’s throat and he barrels past Steve. Falling at your feet, he wraps his arms tight around your waist and buries his face against your belly, his shoulders shaking with the hurricane force of his wrenching sobs. Gentle fingers comb through his tangled hair, while you calm him with meaningless words, the soothing syllables priceless simply because they’re yours.

Over the sound of Bucky’s tears, Steve comes closer. He traces the curves of your face, over your forehead, down your nose, brushing your lips. It worked, he thinks, and fierce relief sweeps through him. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he presses his mouth to your temple, inhaling the clean scent of your skin.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.”

*****

For the next three days, you do nothing but sleep. Small breaks between sleep and awake to eat the chicken noodle soup Bucky brings, the pastrami sandwich Steve cuts into small squares, a chocolate chip cookie fresh from the oven.

At first, they worry. Did they fuck up the deal? Was something else wrong? Were you sick? Eventually, they understand coming back to life is not as simple as waking up and picking up where you left off.

So, they let you sleep, drawing the bedroom curtains into darkness, fluffing up the pillows whenever you stumble to the bathroom, keeping the glass on the nightstand filled with cool water. They linger outside the bedroom door, propped against the wall and watching each other, impatiently patient.

In the middle of the night on the fourth day, Bucky jolts awake. Sleepy and befuddled, his heart sinks. Was it another dream? His mind playing tricks? Listening, he waits and waits and waits, and suddenly, he hears it again.

No, this is not a dream. This is real.

He hears you calling.

“Bucky? Steve?”

Scrambling to his feet, he kicks Steve awake and drags him up. Together, they crack open the bedroom door, a dim sliver of hall light illuminating the sight. There you are, curled in a ball along the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you whisper hoarsely, pulling the blanket tighter. They creep closer, kneeling together beside the bed to look in your eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky says softly. “Did you need something?”

The question comes with such tenderness, your heart swells. What you needed, was to ask them what happened. What did they do? How did it happen? What did it cost? You know the grim reality of whatever magic they used to bring you back will have consequences. Selfish magic always does.

These are the things you should ask, the things you need to know. But in this moment, with these two extraordinary men watching you with such breathless reverence, the intensity of a different emotion strikes like lightning. It surges through your veins, a liquid fire craving to feel them, inside and out.

Nothing else matters. The truth can wait.

“Can you do something for me?” you whisper instead.

“Anything,” he breathes instantly, Steve nodding helpfully.

“Can you kiss me?” you whisper and Bucky blinks, surprised. Glancing at Steve, he hesitates briefly, before leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss on your lips. He tastes soft, a faint hint of minty toothpaste on his breath.

When he breaks away, you slip a hand behind his neck. He swallows hard at feel of your fingers digging into his skin and leans helplessly into the touch.

“Honey - “ he starts, but you cut him off.

“Kiss me again. Mean it this time.”

At your demand, dark lust fills his face. Eyes flicking back and forth, he appears to gauge the request, making absolutely sure you’re sure, and then -

He devours you.

Shoving you back into the mess of pillows, he climbs onto the bed, mouth slanting hungrily over yours. Teeth bumping, tongue sliding along yours, he holds your face between his palms, damp skin and cool metal. He kisses so long and deep, so thorough and full of passion, it leaves you gasping for air.

“Better?” he murmurs, and for the first time since the day you died, since that moment your soul flew beyond his reach, the faint flicker of a smile tugs his lips.

The kiss does nothing to calm the tide. It makes your skin sizzle, lust sweeping through your body.

“I need you. Both of you. Please,” you breathe, tugging frantically at your shirt, a feverish desperation for the blazing heat of their skin against yours.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks hoarsely, blunt tipped fingers gripping your hip so tight you feel a bruise already forming. There is no pain though, only the comforting pressure of intimate familiarity. “We don’t have to do anything, not yet, not - not ever.”

“Please,” you plead again. “Please. It’s been so long, I missed you, don’t - don’t let me leave you, please Steve, please don’t let me go again.”

At your tearful words, Steve genuinely believes he feels his heart break. All he knows, all he will ever know again, is a burning need to fix this. To keep you and Bucky safe from everything, no matter the cost.

“Never. Never again,” he vows, and beside him, Bucky echoes the promise.

“Never, sweetheart. We’ll never let you go.”

The simplicity of a remembered intimacy comes naturally. Steve settles against the headboard and pulls you between his legs, tossing away your shirt and peppering kisses across your back, over your shoulders, up your neck. Wide hands stroke up along your ribcage, cupping your breasts. It makes you twitch when he gently pinches your nipples, teeth nipping at your ear.

Bucky slides your panties off and settles between your legs, easing them open. Warm breath brushes over your clit and then he licks a firm strip between your folds. At your low moan, he slowly pushes two fingers inside you, twisting and rubbing until sparks crackle along your skin.

“Keep going, oh god, keep going.”

Bracketed between Steve’s thighs, one hand tangled in Bucky’s dark hair, your hips push up to meet every stroke of his tongue, writhing as he holds you down. Steve’s hands are ceaseless, rubbing your breasts, circling your nipples, tugging lightly as he leaves small bites along your neck.

“There you go baby, that’s it,” he whispers. “Keep watching him, don’t look away.”

Eyes on the ceiling, you force yourself to look down, at the man nestled snug between your legs. His dark hair falls over his forehead, blue eyes burning you to ash.

“Bucky,” you rasp, powerless against the onslaught of pleasure, “Steve. Please.”

The sound of his name falling from your lips, something he never expected to hear again, sends Bucky into a frenzy. Tongue flicking faster, he pumps his fingers harder, the vibration from his moan pulsing against your clit and everything shatters.

Arching up, the orgasm crests and breaks, white noise blanking your mind. Incoherent cries fill your ears, over and over, until you recognize the sound of your own voice, a repetitious prayer crafted from the only three words that will ever matter.

Bucky.

Steve.

Please.

They answer, of course. In perfect fashion, with perfect rhythm.

Steve pulls your boneless, shuddering body higher, and Bucky opens your legs wider, letting Steve ease into your pussy from behind. He groans at the feel, the silky wet heat gripping him, and clutches your back tight to his chest. Rocking his hips up, he moves your body easily, thrusting deep. The delicious sound of his soft grunts fill your ear and it reignites the throbbing ache between your legs.

Bucky crawls up until he straddles you both, his tongue curling around your nipple, licking, sucking, tugging delicately with his teeth. He frees your hand, the one digging into Steve’s thigh, and wordlessly coaxes it between his legs. Wrapping sweaty fingers tight around his cock, you stroke him, following the rhythm Steve sets.

It feels so easy, the three of you moving in tandem, both men thrusting faster, harder, rougher, until you come once more, and just like always, they follow to a stuttering end right behind.

Bucky.

Steve.

Please.

Yes, these three words are the only ones you think you’ll ever need.

****

Sated, the three of you lay together. Bucky in his favorite place, forehead tucked against your breasts, his arm curved around your waist. Steve warm and solid, molded head to toe along your back, his arm slung around you both, fingers lazily twirling Bucky’s hair.

Beyond the curtains, darkness remains. Now, with your body exhausted and comforted by their presence, if becomes easier to whisper the question.

“How did you do it?”

“Hmm?” Steve murmurs, drifting toward the balm of sleep. Bucky says nothing, simply snuggles closer, his steady breaths puffing warm on your skin.

“I remember what happened.” Softly the confession falls. “Please don’t lie to me. Tell me how you did it. How you brought me back.”

Both men stiffen. Bucky stops breathing. Steve stops stroking his hair. Dread fills you, cold as ice. You know then, whatever price they’ve paid? It will tear the world apart.

Breath tickling the back of your neck, Steve murmurs so quietly, you strain to hear.

“We made a deal.”

*****

Part 2

*****

[ceratonia-siliqua]

The Good Boy (winterspidershield)

So remember how I said @send-me-your-hcs and I can’t be left alone without making nasty shit? Well here is said nasty. 

Ao3 Link

Summary:

 After months of living with his captors, Peter's grown mostly used to the humiliating way of life that's been forced upon him, including the baby bottles. 

But tonight, he can't help but notice that his bottle tastes...different.

Warnings (SPOILERS): Forced Daddy Kink, Forced Infantilism, Under/aged (Peter is 16), Non-Graphic Diaper Change, Non-Consensual Come Feeding, Affectionate Captors, Mentions of Abuse, Post Kidnapping, and most importantly DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

 The padded walls of the crib loomed over Peter. Left over from the days he’d taken to throwing himself against bars until he was covered in bruises. He hadn’t done it in what must have been months. It made him sick to think that it had been that long. He used to know the exact number of days, had scratched them into the plaster in the playroom behind the toy box. He’d counted 74 days before Steve had found it while moving the chest after Bucky decided to reorganize the playroom. Steve had spanked his ass until it was hot and red for ruining the wall. It was filled and painted the next day. Bucky had carried him on his hip and set him on soft pillows to offset the sting, but it couldn’t alleviate the claw marks scratched across his pride. He had so little of it left these days. 

The men that held him captive were moving around downstairs, he could hear the faint notes of their voices. They left him unrestrained, he was painfully aware of that fact, but he knew better. He’d tried climbing over the walls before, it didn’t end well. They had placed a cover over it to ensure he stayed in, even restrained. It had felt like sleeping in a coffin. Dadd- Bucky. Bucky had caved after the first three nights of his panicked screaming, but Steve kept it on for the week. Had upped the sedatives they gave him in exchange for taking the cover off. That, though, was months ago. 

He heard Bucky coming up the stairs, knew it was him by the way his bare feet slapped lightly on the wood. Steve always wore slippers around the house before bed and had thundering footsteps, like a man on a mission, even in the privacy of his own domain. The door opened slowly. The soft tone Bucky used exclusively for him drifted into the room, Peter ignored the relief he felt hearing it. The softer of the pair, he was always gentle, had never laid a hand on Peter, though he let Steve do it plenty for the both of them. 

“Daddy has your bottle for you, sweet boy,” Bucky’s head appeared over the top of the crib, his long strands of hair pulled back into a low ponytail. “We need to change you before your bottle, baby. Up we go.” Bucky had set the bottle down on the table by the crib where the baby monitor sat. Hefted Peter up under his arm pits like it was nothing. All of Peter’s 5’3 height and 100 pounds (though he suspected by the gentle little pouch he was developing on his tummy that he was more than that now. Weird to think it took being kidnapped to finally leave the underweight bracket). To be sixteen and lifted like it was nothing was humiliating, but at this point it was just another ticked box. Bucky dwarfed him. Well over six feet and all muscle, he was terrifying. Which made his husband utterly petrifying. 

Bucky cradled him in the crook of his arm, cooed and kissed at his cheeks, his forehead, his nose. Laid him down on the changing table like he was made of glass. Suddenly Peter felt it. Started to tremble but couldn’t stop it. Teared up as he saw Bucky notice. 

Peter’s stomach dropped as Bucky took his day pants off. Folded them and set them off to the side to be washed later. It revealed the pull-up he was wearing underneath. He sobbed, saw shit leaking around his legs. Bucky rubbed his belly, slow soothing circles. 

“Shh… you’re okay Petey, it happens. Let it all out. Daddy will clean you up when you’re all done.” 

Everything else he could stick in a box, could power through and tell himself it meant nothing about him if it was done to survive this. This, though, this was always too much. Usually he could feel it coming, could make it to the plastic training toilet they had for him in the bathroom. They must have given him a laxative during lunch. The bastards. 

Bucky stripped the pull-up off. Tore it around the side seams so as not to get it on Peter’s legs. He cried, long and hard as Bucky grabbed his ankles and set them both over one shoulder so Peter’s butt dangled off the changing table. Trembled as Bucky pulled wipes from the warmer to clean him up. The only time Bucky ever touched his dick was when he needed to clean it and this was one of those times. The whole time his captor whispered to him, tried to soothe him. Fuck him because, god dammit, it worked. With large, gasping breaths he settled. By the time he was taped up in a diaper, he was exhausted. It was naptime anyway, but this always laid him out. 

“You did so well, baby. So good for Daddy.” 

Peter hiccupped in response, didn’t want to play the game right now. Was glad Steve hadn’t been in the room when it happened. 

“Pete alright in there, Buck?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. 

Peter couldn’t see Bucky’s face but he could tell he was giving Steve an almost sad smile by the tilt in his shoulders. “Yeah, his bowels finally cleared out. He won’t need an enema in the morning.” Peter counted the small blessing in that. The only thing he hated more than shitting himself was an enema. 

“Ah, that’s good. I was worried the poor baby was hard as a rock and we were going to need a laxative with it.” Steve stepped further into the room. Peter never looked him in the eyes, was scared it would be like challenging a wolf, only Steve was far, far worse. He’d been nice to Peter lately, but he knew how quickly that could change. He resisted the urge to flinch when he felt that callous hand settle on his belly. He knew Da--fuck, Bucky, had convinced himself he loved Peter, showed it to some degree when he held Peter, kept him out of trouble when he could easily get into it with Steve. Steve, on the other hand… He could never read him. 

“I think he’s ready for bed. I’m glad we didn’t need the laxative tonight, I always worried about over doing it.” Bucky moved back towards the crib. Laid him down and put the thick quilt over him. Peter blocked out what Bucky was saying. Pretended that Bucky was lying, even though he was well aware that as cruel as the pair could be, they wouldn’t play coy talking about it like this. Sure, they lied to him, but not between each other, even when it was in front of him. 

He was left in only a diaper and a T-shirt. He was too weak to pull at the diaper straps; the last dose of sedatives would wear off soon, but the husbands were strict when it came to his bottle schedule. Papa was the one to guide the bottle into his mouth, didn’t let go as Peter lifted his hands enough to settle on his chest and prop the bottle up.

He closed his eyes and took the nipple between his lips. The nipple was designed so he could bite at it without breaking it, something Peter appreciated on the days he just wanted to take a chunk out of one of the men standing over him, watching. This moment, though - this was calm. He would never admit it, but the slow drag of milk was calming, the pace was his to control, he could be as fast or as slow as he wished. Tonight, he was more in the arena of the latter.

The bottles were normal by now, something that was always without fail to happen. One would think he would die without it with the religious dedication they had to getting it to him. He had grown accustomed to the taste overtime. Peter knew Bucky made it himself out of dry milk powder and powdered vitamins and minerals, there was always a little variation because of it, but tonight, something was… wrong. There was a bitter note, a hint of something salty. It made his nose crinkle and he pulled away with a pop! 

Steve attempted to press it back to his mouth but he shook his head. “Noo, tastes funny.”

“Your Daddy just needed to add something special, honey, it’s good for you. You need to drink it.” 

Peter made the very mistake he knew to avoid, he looked into Steve’s eyes. Intense blue depths met his. There wasn’t the normal threat behind them, but the way he was looking at him… It was scary. He knew that the pair got their kicks out of this, they had to at least somewhat, but Steve looked like he was enjoying this. Steve’s eyes pinned him to the bed as Daddy came into view and gently nudged Steve’s hand, and the bottle, against Peter’s mouth. 

“You’re okay sweetheart. You’ll get used to it. You need the boost.”

He took the nipple back into his mouth, unable to look away from Steve until the suckling slowed everything down once again, and his eyes slipped close.

—

Bucky smiled down at his little boy; smiled wider when Steve wrapped an arm around the small of his back and pulled him into his side. He sighed happily and tipped his head to rest it on his husband’s shoulder, watching as Peter obediently drank from his bottle.

Their baby was a sight to behold. Everything Bucky had ever wanted. Peter had come a long way since they first brought him home, and Bucky couldn’t be more overjoyed about it. Steve still had his doubts, but Bucky knew they wouldn’t last – especially in moments like this, when Peter’s reservation about the strange taste of his naptime bottle wasn’t enough to make him disobey.

He was learning so fast.

They had the smartest little boy in the whole world.

The sedatives they’d added to keep Peter well-behaved were already taking effect – Bucky must have added a little too much in an attempt to offset the new ingredient. The bottle was only a quarter empty, and already, Peter’s hands were losing strength; his lips could hardly retain any suction at all as sleep overcame him.

But this bottle was special.

He needed to drink it all.

“Baby,” Bucky said, leaning down and patting the boy’s tummy to rouse him. “It’s not quite naptime yet. You’re not done with your bottle.”

“You need to drink it all up,” Steve added – not unkindly, but leaving zero room for argument, like always. “Come on – eyes open, Peter. You’re not even halfway done yet.”

Peter let out a soft, grumbling complaint as he tried to blink his eyes open. The sound melted Bucky’s heart, the sight even more so. Peter lifted one hand to sleepily rub at his eyes, the other clumsily trying to keep the bottle upright. The heavy bottle slipped and slid out of his small, tired hand, rolling across his chest, but Steve caught it before it got any farther.

“I think our baby needs some help, Buck,” Steve said. Bucky smiled, ignoring the way Peter’s body had gone completely still. He took the bottle from Steve and watched as his larger, stronger husband sat their boy upright, then lifted him out of the crib and into his arms.

“Come on, Petey,” Steve said. “Let’s get the rest of Daddy’s milk into you.”

Steve carried Peter over to the plush loveseat by the bookshelf and sat, cradling Peter against his chest, his small body resting in the crook of Steve’s arm, like an infant. Peter had his hands balled up in front of him and he was shyly avoiding Steve’s gaze, but other than that, there was no sign of discomfort from their angelic little boy.

Bucky sat beside Steve and handed him the bottle. Steve took a moment to adjust Peter comfortably in his lap, supporting the boy’s neck and head with his left arm as he lifted the bottle with his right. Peter whimpered as the nipple of the bottle pressed against his lips, but Steve shushed him.

“No sleeping till you’ve had your bottle, baby. You know the rules.”

Peter’s large, tired eyes nervously flicked to Bucky. The man smiled at him and set the boy’s legs firmly in his lap so he could rub them in gentle, soothing circles.

“Listen to your papa, baby,” he softly urged. “He’s just trying to take care of you. Be a good boy now.”

A look akin to guilt washed over Peter’s face. He sucked in a shaky breath and took the nipple gently between his lips, clenching his eyes shut as he began to suckle. Steve smiled and lavished him with praise immediately, telling him how good he was, how happy he made them.

Slightly more awake now, Peter drank his milk a little faster than he had before. The bottle made quiet squelching noises as Peter suckled from it, his face crumpled in a look of disgust from the unfamiliar taste.

“I know baby. You’ll get used to it soon,” Steve promised, repeating Bucky’s words from earlier. They didn’t seem to appease the boy much, so Bucky ran his hand up the boy’s bare thighs, over his padded pull-up and underneath the hem of his shirt so he could soothingly pat his tummy.

“You’re being so good, Peter. Our perfect baby boy.” He rested his head on Steve’s shoulder once more, smiling when Peter blearily blinked up at him. “So good for us. Look at you, you’re halfway there already. See? It’s not so bad, is it? Daddy made it special, just for you.”

He reached down where Peter still had his hands curled into tight little fists against his chest. Gently, he coaxed the boy’s left hand towards him, slipping a finger into the tight curl of his fist to slowly pry it open. It didn’t completely work – Peter just grabbed his finger instead, squeezing it like a little baby python – but that was okay. As long as their baby was relying on them for comfort, it counted as a victory.

“We love you so much,” he whispered down to him, the adorable bundle of joy in his husband’s arms. “You have no idea how long we waited for you, Peter. You’re the baby boy of our dreams.”

“And you’re such a good boy for us. Especially for your daddy. Couldn’t help but turn out to be a little Daddy’s Boy, could you Pete?” Steve said, teasing him gently. “There’s no one else I’d ever share him with.”

Bucky smiled. Peter probably thought Steve only meant Bucky, but little did the boy know, Steve absolutely meant it both ways. He might not show it as much or as obviously as Bucky did, but Steve was just as taken with their wonderful little boy as he was. Peter was perfect. He was worth the wait.

The three sat together and basked in each other’s company as Peter slowly drank, forcing himself with everything he had to stay awake. When the bottle was mostly empty – and Peter was too sleepy from the sedatives to suck the last little bit out – Steve sat him up and uncapped the bottle, tilting the boy’s head up and gently placing the rim against his bottom lip. Peter tried his best to drink the milk as it was slowly poured into his mouth, but a few drops splashed and spilled down his chin.

“Messy boy,” Steve chided, though he clearly wasn’t genuinely upset. He handed Bucky the empty bottle and used his thumb to wipe away the spilled milk, scooping it up the boy’s chin, gathering it on the pad of his thumb before he gently pushed it into Peter’s mouth. Peter gave another whimper, but obediently sucked his papa’s thumb clean, groaning at the taste.

Bucky watched the smirk spread across Steve’s face. They both knew why the milk was the most bitter at the bottom. It was the same reason it was the thickest and the most viscous. Poor Peter seemed clueless as to why, but that was for the best. Their baby boy didn’t need to know the details. He just needed to be good and do as he was told.

“You were such a good boy, sweetheart,” he said, carding his fingers through Peter’s soft curls. “So good for us, drinking all your naptime milk without a fuss. You wanna sleep now?”

Peter nodded, letting go of Bucky’s finger to rub his tired eyes.

“Use your words, Peter,” Steve reminded him. His tone wasn’t overly harsh, but Peter still stopped dead. The boy swallowed thickly and quietly said, “Naptime please, Daddy,” which earned him a kiss from Steve, right on the bridge of his nose, and another from Bucky, who leaned down to plant it on his little tummy.

“Our perfect boy.”

Steve effortlessly carried their little tyke back to his crib. Bucky tucked Peter in just as he had before, smothering the boy’s sweet little face in soft kisses as Steve prepared to raise the crib’s side railing.

“Love you, baby,” Bucky said, kissing Peter gently, before standing to let Steve do the same. They closed the crib, wished the boy a good sleep, and turned the light off as they left the room.

Bucky hardly made it four steps down the hallway before Steve was spinning him around, pinning him to the wall. He laughed into the desperate kiss Steve pressed against his mouth and let his lips fall open for the other man, arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

“God, Bucky – ”

“I know,” Bucky said, quieter, so their baby wouldn’t hear. “Me too, Stevie. Fuck.”

Steve bracketed him against the wall and rutted between Bucky’s legs. Bucky held him, soothing him as he trailed one hand down his husband’s firm chest, down, down, down until he gently grasped Steve’s bulge tightening the front of his pants.

“You know, the more consistent we are with his bottles, the faster he’ll get used to them,” Bucky said, whispering it into the shell of Steve’s ear. “How about tonight, at bedtime, we give him Papa’s milk instead?” He squeezed the mound of Steve’s cock, making him moan loud, deep and guttural. If Peter was still awake, he certainly heard it. “Feels like you have a lot saved up for him, Stevie.”

Steve pulled back far enough to crash their lips together. It was hungry – starving, really. Animalistic. Bucky whined as Steve thrusted their hard cocks together, sending jolts of electricity shooting up his spine.

“Tonight, I think Peter should get both his papa’s and his daddy’s milk,” Steve said, panting from their brutal kiss. “Don’t you, Buck?”

Bucky grinned and pulled his husband closer. “The sooner we start, the more milk he’ll get.” He kissed Steve square on the lips and dropped his arms from around the man’s neck. “Lead the way.”

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

We Should Probably Fix That

Summary- 2k Bucky Barnes x Y/N. Bucky and You meet up in the Locker room. SMUT. NSFW. written for Kristens 2020 writing challenge. Thanks for hosting, it was alot of fun! My Prompt- “Oh dont mind me. Just enjoying the view.”

Here it was a fine Saturday morning and you were staring up at the ceiling of the compounds gym. Having just gotten your ass rolled by Natasha. Her hand stretched into your vision and grasping it, she hauled you back to a stand. "Good try, but you got to expect me on either side. And you favor the left."

"Yea, Bucky bruised my left hip" Nats lips turned into a smirk "not like that! Okay... Maybe like that. Worth it though. Try one more time?" The red head nodded and the two of you separated, going to separate corners of the mat.

As the two of you started sparring once more, you tried to stay focused on Nat, she isnt past pulling out a special move if she doesnt think your paying attention. Successful in blocking her, a quick duck on your part allows you to swing in closer, hooking a leg though hers and knocking her off kilter. Hey one out of three tries isn't bad and this time your the one helping her up, accompanied by "thats my girl!" You two glance over to see Bucky had come over from where he had been working out. “Oh dont mind me, just enjoying the view.” he winked at the two of you. 

"Yea well dont worry Barnes, I happened to see on the calendar were due for a match up, so next time you can participate." Natasha quipped as she went to grab a towel, grinning as she wiped the back of her neck "Y/N was at a disadvantage. Something about a bruise on her left side? Otherwise she probably gotten me more times."

You blush, but your face is already flushed and Bucky glances at you with a bit of worry, when you reach him, he handed your towel to you, then his vibranium hand touched along your hip, the coolness of his touch immediately noticed. "I thought that went away?"

"Dont listen to Romanoff, shes only teasing" you whisper back and lean up to kiss him. “Im not sore, and not favoring my left hip.” Behind you Nat is shaking her head yes, and you can see the way Buckys face changes that she must be doing something. “Nat, I swear, you and I will go back on the mat, and I will kick that tight ass of yours.” You turn around and toss your towel at her, and she snatchs it from the air and smirks. 

“Promises promises Y/N” she states as she gathers hers stuff and starts to head to the locker rooms. Bucky slings an arm around you and the two of you head that way as well, passing Steve and Sam as they came in to use the gym after there morning run. Turning the corner, Bucky veers off to go into the mens section, and Natasha waits patiently holding the womens door open. Once he goes inside, you veer back towards the mens, winking at Natasha. “Go on, Im gonna catch a shower elsewhere” and she gives you an approving thumbs up before going inside and leaving you to make your sneak, listening for Bucky to start the shower. After a few minutes you hear the groan of the pipework and the premium pressure shower heads Tony just had installed start, and you went inside. 

So you started stripping off you shoes and clothes, tossing them aside as you went down the row of lockers, honestly you didnt care if Steve and Sam stumbled upon them when they came in. They knew Bucky was a grown ass adult, and in a relationship. Once you reached the showers, you could see Buckys form through the frosted glass door, on a nearby bench were his everyday clothes, nicely folded, waiting for him to exit. You were a chaotic energy compared to his ritualistic ones. Why you two just worked. 

You decided to make yourself known, it never really pays off to sneak up on a super soldier, and you respected Buckys past to know that there was certain things he just didnt care for, sneaking up on him was one of them. So you knock on the glass door, giving a soft tune to his name as you spoke it. “Oh Barnes, mind sharing that hot water?” You could see him turn in the shower, and the silver of his arm stretch out to slide the glass aside. A billow of steam escaped when he opened the door, and his face emerged from it, his hair plastered to his head and droplets of water running down his the tip of his nose. His eyes rove down your form and your cant help but tilt your hip, folding your arms over your chest, leaving him growling playfully “Why you covering your self up sexy? Fuck come on in.” 

You giggled as his hand snaked out and wrapped around your waist, bringing you in. Tumbling against his chest, your arms sliding up around his neck as his lips claimed your neck, nibbles and flicks of his tongue speeding your pulse underneath it. His hands slid down your back and clasped your ass, arching you to grind right into him. “Something get you riled up today Buck?” You ask against his ear, sliding your tongue along the shell and tugging on his lobe, sucking on it. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he backed you up into the tiled wall just under the spray. It cascaded down his muscled back that was taunt in his lust.

“Mmmhh watching you and Nat might have got me heated.” A roll of his hips showed you just how turned on it made him, along with the harder kiss marking your neck now, making you hiss and grind yourself back against him. Releasing your hands, you slid them down his chest, the mere touch of your hands left his muscles flexing underneath, along those V lines you so loved, and wrapped your hand around his erection, stroking just lightly enough to hear his breath hitch, and his vibranium arm pushed with some force against the wall beside your head. He was throbbing in your palm, and you relished holding him, stroking him into pleasure. “I can feel that Bucky... “

You leaned forward, husky voiced whispers “Your so big and hard, Its gonna feel so good pounding in my pussy.”  A slight twist of the wrist and as you slid your hand down, you slipped to roll his balls in your palm, moaning as you bite your lip. You tipped your head to glance at him, his breathing had started to turn shallow, rushed, and his pupils blew the further along you brought him. 

“Fuck, faster Y/N” In which you obliged, jerking your hand faster and faster, his hips jutting to keep pace. You could hear his hand tighten in the tile and the distinct crack of it, making you smirk. Oops, another one they busted, Tony was gonna see the repair request and give them shit later. His other hand, his warmth seeping from his palm as he pushed into your wet plastered hair, fisting into it and dragging your lips to meet his, possessively harsh kissing, a clashing of lips, forcing them apart with his tongue and dragging yours to his mouth. 

Dragging away from you, he gasped. “Stop, stop Baby” and you still, for a second before giving one more slow tempting pump, and he groaned, his dropped head to your shoulder giving a sharp bite, in which you yelp as his hands grasped behind your thighs and had you part your pretty thighs and fold around him. The wall kept you upright, leaving your hands free to explore all on there own. Weaving fingers right against his scalp, bringing his mouth back to your skin to work its magic. Following along your collarbone with worshiping kisses, his cock was slicked between your dripping folds. The moment his head slipped into your aching channel, you urged him to continue calling his name. “Fuck yes Buck, make me yours” 

Bucky Barnes was by all means a well endowed soldier, and you gasped feeling him stretch you the more he pushed in, rotating your hips, and tightening your legs around his waist to pull yourself closer, you gasped softly and a whimper was exhaled against his open mouth. “Fuck baby, your so god damn tight.” You giggle and kiss on the corner of his mouth, flexing yourself around him. 

“And all yours, we already broke the wall, lets really break some tiles.” You teased and he pulled back to start thrusting into you, definitely not disappointing, your ass bounced off the tile and his mouth traveled back to your collarbone. You leaned back, giving him access, cause you really wanted him to play with your bouncing breasts. 

“Think Tony is gonna start charging us?” He grunted and cupping a breast, teased it with his teeth, pulling the nipple with a pop between his teeth and swirling his tongue around it till it was nice and firm. Loving how your perky tits bounced in his face, lavishing his tongue down the valley, a mix of your salty skin and fresh warm water cascading from overhead his new favorite taste in the world. “I would pay whatever he wants as long as we continue shower sex” 

A roll of your body viced around him, screaming his name rather loudly and scratching down his back, while he continued powering through. His thrusts got harder, your channel slick with your arousal followed along with him, and reaching up to grasp the shower head to brace yourself. This was exactly why you loved being with Buck, he knew when to be gentle, and when to be rough as fuck. You pulled on his hair when he bit the curve of your breasts, knowing once more you were going to spot many bruises, underneath all your clothes. He was sure never to mark you within sight of the others.” Bucky, fuck im about to come again.... “ It hadnt been that long, and you were still clenching and coming down from the previous ones high. 

“Dont worry, Im fucking going to fill you up when you come... “ He cussed against you as you thrusted yourself harder, the both of you rushing towards your ending, and you screamed his name a second time, his body pushing to pin your between him and the wall, milking his cock for his seed, which throbbed in your channel, shooting thick streams to coat your walls, making you moan coming down. Reaching around you and feeling along the wall, you felt for the handle and twisted it to stop the water streaming down the two of you, and you both just panted against one another. 

Rubbing your hips as he pulled back so he wasnt crushing you against the wall, he reached up to brush your hair from your face, and kissed you softer this time. Not driven by lust, this was an affectionate kiss, trailing across your face and down your neck. “Ready to stand baby?” He questions you, and your hand smooths against his chest, nodding lightly. “Yea, just dont let me go right away, I think my legs might be a bit shook.” 

Laughing, he eased your thighs down and pulling from you, he continued you to your toes, sliding your arms around his neck and resting your head against his shoulder, still humming from your orgasm. You tip your head up, chin resting against his chest, admiring the little things going on, the way he had throughy fucked you in one of the best ways possible, that you both seemed to enjoy these quiet satisfied moments. His hands eased up your back and he looked down at you just staring up at him with a overall look of a loved woman. “everything alright babygirl?” You were unusually quiet. 

“Oh dont mind me. Just enjoying the view” you grin and lean up to kiss along his jaw line, mimicking him from earlier. 

“Well we dont enjoy the view! Could you two hurry it up!” Sam must have been waiting to get into the locker room, and you bust into laughter as you reach to grab a towel, poking Buckys side and pointing up at the shower head you were holding onto earlier. Apparently without realizing it, you happened to yank it out of the wall, leaving it crooked and wrenched. “Shit babes, we should probably get that fixed to, huh?” 

@peterman-spideyparker

[awake-dearheart]

Voice In The Night [s.r]

Summary: Steve keeps hearing a voice calling to him, but he can’t figure out who it is or where it’s coming from.

Word Count: 1200

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: The First Avengers spoilers (but really we’ve all seen it right?) mentions of death and gunfire, mostly fluff

A/N: Originally posted 11/30/19 as my entry for @captainsteveevans‘s writing challenge. The prompt is in bold. If you’d like to be added to the taglist for future works, send an ask!

Steve watched helplessly as Schmidt and Zola disappeared from view. The factory below him was engulfed in flames, and more explosions boomed by the second. On his left, Bucky was struggling to remain standing. Steve frantically looked around for an exit and his eyes caught sight of a way out above them.

“Come on,” he said, pulling Bucky off the railing. “Let’s go. Up.” The two climbed the stairs quickly to a slender piece of metal connecting the two platforms. Across from them, a red light blinked, signaling their escape route.

“Let’s go. One at a time.” Steve helped his best friend over the railing and watched as he made his way across. The metal creaked and groaned as the flames below grew higher, and more than once Bucky’s balance faltered. Just as he was at the end, the structure began to collapse. Steve’s heart leapt into his throat as Bucky made a desperate jump for the railing. He barely caught on and hauled himself over before the structure he was on tumbled to the ground. Steve sighed with relief for a moment, then realized he was now trapped.

“There’s gotta be a rope or something!” Bucky called across to him.

“Just go!” Steve yelled back. “Get out of here!”

“No! Not without you!” Bucky screamed. Steve looked down and bent back the broken railing in front of him. He stepped back, gauging the distance before him, when a voice called out and made him stop.

“Steve…” It was a woman, he was sure of it. Her voice was soft and quiet, almost like she was calling to him from underwater, and sounded slightly pleading.

“Steve…” she said again. He turned to find her when another explosion boomed. Flames sprang up and the platform he stood on gave way. He could hear Bucky screaming for him as he fell and he waited to feel the flames tear into him.

But the burn never came. He landed on cool earth, somewhere in the dead of night. Startled, he looked around.

“Steve, get the hell down!” someone yelled. On instinct, he crouched down and sought cover. Ducking behind a wall, he found himself next to Dugan. He looked around and recognized the other Howling Commandos in various stages of cover.

“Damn HYDRA bastards were ready for us,” Dugan growled. Gunfire sounded all around them. Steve peered over the wall he was hidden behind and recognized the base from the map he’d seen in Austria. But how had he gotten here? Wasn’t he just falling while the Austria base collapsed?

“Cap!” Dugan shouted and pulled him back behind the wall. “What’s the plan?”

“We…um…” Steve stammered. He was still trying to figure out how he’d gotten here and now he had to get his men out safely. They were pinned down by hails of gunfire and waiting for him to call out orders.

“Steve…” He froze when he heard her again. She was a little louder this time, and slightly more insistent. Steve knew she wanted him to find her but he couldn’t without putting his entire company in danger.

“We need a move here, Steve,” Dugan pleaded.

“Do you hear that?” Steve asked.

“The gunfire and explosions? Yeah, I caught a verse or two.”

“No. That woman.” Steve searched the darkened field for any sign of her. He didn’t know who she was but he felt an overwhelming desire to protect her.

“Steve, come back…” she called. He sprang to his feet, eyes scanning everywhere for her.

“Rogers, get down!” Dugan jumped up to pull his captain to safety, and as he did the sound of a sniper’s shot filled the air. The echo rang in Steve’s ears and he watched in horror as blood began to trickle from the hole in Dugan’s forehead where the bullet had pierced.

“Dugan!” he yelled. Steve sank to the ground, cradling his friend in his arms. Dugan’s lifeless eyes stared up at the night sky as Steve heard the voice call out again.

“Steve. It’s ok…” He jumped up and turned around, and found himself standing on a train with Bucky. He turned back to Dugan, but he was gone.

“What the hell?” Steve turned again, confused. He didn’t know what was happening but he knew it was wrong.

Before he had a chance to think, he was blown back by something. He slammed roughly into the wall and groaned. The side of the train had been ripped open by the blast and the frigid air whipped through the train car. Bucky rushed forward and picked up Steve’s shield. Realization flashed through Steve as he remembered where he was.

“Bucky, no!” he cried, but his friend didn’t hear him.

“Steve, it’s ok,” he heard her speak again. “I’m right here.” She was the loudest and clearest she’d been yet, and no longer sounded like she was speaking through water. Steve struggled to stand, torn between saving Bucky and finding the woman calling out to him. As he pulled himself up, a blue flash went off and a blast like the one that had taken him down struck the shield and sent Bucky flying out the hole in the train car.

“Bucky!” he screamed. He lunged forward and grabbed his shield, hurling it at the iron-clad soldier who’d fired on them, incapacitating him.

“Steve, baby, it’s ok. He’s ok.” She sounded so close, almost like she was right next to him. He shook it off and climbed out onto the broken train car.

“Bucky,” he called. “Grab my hand!” He reached as far as he could, desperate to get to Bucky. The metal began to give way, and he watched as Bucky fell into the frozen landscape below.

“No!”

“Steve!”

Steve sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat.

“Shh…it was just a bad dream.” His head snapped around as he heard the same voice again. It was you. Of course it was you. Drawing in a deep breath, he looked around the room to orient himself. He was in your shared room at Avengers Tower. Bucky was safe in his own room down the hall. Dugan had made it out of that raid, went home to his wife, and died safe in his own bed as an old man. Your soft hands came to rest on Steve’s shoulders and he leaned into your touch.

“It’s ok baby. I’m right here.” You placed a kiss to his temple and he sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, turning to face you. You shook your head and ran your fingers through his hair.

“Don’t be,” you said. “Do you want to talk about it?” You looked at him with eyes as soft as fresh-fallen snow, and every ounce of fear that had coursed through him a moment ago evaporated. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“I just wanna go back to sleep, doll,” he whispered. You nodded as he rested his forehead against yours. Wrapping his strong arms around you, he pulled you both back down onto the pillows. Your lips found his jaw and your head nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Steve felt your body relax against him and your breathing start to slow before he spoke.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“Hmm?”

“For pulling me back,” he said. You snuggled yourself closer to him and smiled sleepily.

“I always will.”

Permanent taglist: @farfromhaz @spideyboipete @marvelxholland @gyllenwh0re @eeyore101247 @hollandraul @sunflower-spideyy @sunmoonandbucky @angelhaz11 @thefridgeismybestie @fairytaleparker @afictionaladventure16 @missmeganrachel @geeksareunique @captainsteveevans @dasexydevitt13 @my-drowning-in-time @creepylittlemarvelgirl @stabbyhat @heyhihellowhatsup0​ @stretchkingblog97​ @sebbbystaaan​ @willowtree42095​ @thewaithfuckingannoyme

[shotsbyshae]

Colors

Hunter Steve Series Masterlist

Warnings: Language, Murder, Bloody, Little Smut-ish

Words: 2.9k

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: A hunter turned vampire makes for the deadliest hunter around. What happens when an old foe decides to make their own breed of assassins?  Song: Colors by Halsey

You’re ripped apart at every edge,

but you’re a masterpiece.

Sleep.

You've always considered it the most important part of any day.

It doesn’t matter where or how outdated the motel is or if the mattress feels like a slab of concrete against your back, sleep is you time. You've always done just fine on your own, sleeping alone was never an issue.

Then you woke up one night – some shitty room outside of Denver – found yourself curled into him. One pillow was somehow supporting both of you, his arm draped across your waist lazily. He had stirred slightly with your movement and his arm tightened, pulling you closer to his chest. You had nuzzled your face against his neck as he rested his chin against the top of your scalp.

It should have felt suffocating.

But it didn’t.

It was something different – something you hadn’t felt since becoming a vampire.

Safe.

It’s in the middle of the night when they come. Finding you and Steve curled into one another – sleeping peacefully – at your most vulnerable. They are in the room before either of you are aware of it, bright LED flashlights blinding you before a there’s a sharp pain in your neck. An angry snarl rips from your chest as your fangs descend and you reach, feeling a gloved hand there with a syringe. Everything starts to go numb and you try to fight, but it’s pointless as they drag you from the bed. From the glow of the flashlights you can see Steve wide-eyed with fear and anger as five – no six – men restrain him. One of which has a syringe jabbed into the side of his neck as well.

It happens in the blink of an eye. One minute your tucked warmly against him on what you had commented earlier that night to be a not too shabby mattress. Now, you’re being thrown into a van wearing nothing but a pair of black boy shorts and one of Steve’s blue t-shirts. You try to keep your eyes open as the doors to the van slam shut, but it’s useless. Whatever they injected you with working at record speed.

The sound of the engine starting is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

12 Hours Earlier

“Wraiths?” Steve questions, standing beside you as the two of you have a faceoff with four individuals across the bar. Three men and a woman stare angrily back at you. One of the men takes a step forward, a boney spike protruding from his wrist in a menacing fashion.

“Yep,” you respond. “Wraiths alright.”

This is a milk run – Steve can handle it.

There’s only four of them.

You watch as Steve twirls the silver angel blade in his hand before he stalks towards the monsters. You smirk slightly to yourself as you hop up onto the bar, crossing one leg over the other. You lay your blade on the wooden bar beside you, leaning over to grab the bottle of bourbon nearest you.

The fighting ensues and Steve is ducking and dodging as the three men attack. The sickening sound of the blade slicing through skin fills the empty bar and you know the woman is sneaking around to your left, but you’re doing one of the things you enjoy most – watching him work.

It’s probably not healthy.

Most would assume it has something to do with your bloodlust, but that’s not it.

There’s something about the realness of it. Kill or be killed. The two of you teetering on the edge of life or death, your heart beating so hard and fast you can’t hear anything but it pounding against your ribs.

It’s raw – pure.

Steve’s a fighter – he was born for it – made that way. He’s quick on his feet and it’s almost like a well-choreographed dance the way he moves, dodging every attempt they make at stabbing him with their wrist spikes. He’s the only one left standing, chest heaving, and blood splattered. His hair falling across his face as he glances over to where you sit.

“Really? You want some popcorn?” he questions, resting his hands on his hips.

You hold the bottle of amber liquid up with your left hand, “I’m good.” Your right hand slowly gripping the handle of the blade laying at your side.

“You know –” Steve begins attempting to warn you of the woman, but stops as you move quickly, throwing your blade across and into the chest of the monster.

“I know,” the woman falls to the floor as you smirk before taking a swig from the bottle in your hand.

Steve walks across, pulling your blade from her before moving over to where you sit. He lays both weapons on the bar as you uncross your legs, stretching them out to hook around his waist.

“Is this what it’s come to now?” Steve questions, taking the bottle you offer him as you pull him closer with your legs. “You watch while I do all the work?”

“You didn’t need any help,” you comment playfully. “Besides, I like to watch.” Your fingers brush the hair from his forehead as he pulls the bottle away from his lips.

He stares at you, chest still heaving from his fight, eyes a deeper, darker blue, and you can practically feel the adrenaline surging out of him. There are blood stains spattered across the green shirt he’s wearing and up the side of his neck.

“Well, maybe next time,” his voice is low. “You work – while I watch.” He sets the bottle on the bar beside you, hands moving up your denim clad thighs. “You’re not the only one who likes it.”

He kisses you innocently enough, but after a few moments his kisses become more desperate – hungry. With one swift motion, he’s on top of you. The shattering of the bottle as the bourbon falls to the floor echoes throughout the empty room.

“Steve,” you breath against his mouth. “Really – here?”

He lifts his head, boyish glint in his eyes as he smiles down at you before glancing over at the four dead wraiths lying in the floor, “I don’t think they care.”

You shake your head with a laugh as his lips move along your neck before he nips at your pulse point. He feels your breathing falter and he nibbles a little harder, until he hears the low snarl in your chest.

“Easy with the – teeth,” your whisper turns into a hiss as he bites hard. Your fangs descend, fingers digging into his biceps. You know he did it on purpose. He enjoys riling you up.

“Says the vampire,” he pulls away with a smug smile, confirming your thoughts.

It happens so fast, Steve doesn’t even feel it until you have him pinned to the bar, straddling him. You watch the surprise on his face quickly fade into desire as his eyes travel up your body. He likes to bring this out in you – the feral creature you can be. He’s been addicted since the first time you slammed him into a wall while feeding on him.

You lean close to him, pressing your hips further down onto him – hard – throbbing almost. Your voice low and challenging as you whisper against his ear, “You started this.” You bite into his neck – thick, warm, blood filling your mouth quickly. A moan slips from him and you grind your hips against his methodically.

When his hand moves for the button on your jeans, you grab it quickly, pinning it and his other hand above his head. It elicits a small laugh from him, but you continue to roll your hips against him as you drink from him.

His voice is strangled as he tries to communicate, but you silence him with your mouth.

All tongue and teeth, copper and bourbon.

Showing your strength without fear.

He loves when you take control like this.

24 Hours Later

He had fought back when they took you, managed to capture one of the men while the others escaped. The only person who might have answers to where they’d taken you and Steve’s hell bent on getting them.

Steve’s staring down at the bloody man in the chair, he’s obviously taken quiet the beating. Steve’s right hand rests against the side of his thigh, the skin on his knuckles broken and bleeding as his pistol hangs loosely in his fingers.

“You’ve seen the last of her,” he says cryptically.

Steve stares angrily at the man in front of him, “What do you mean?”

“You heard me,” the man replies simply.

He clenches his jaw, rage coursing through him as he raises the pistol in his hand, aiming it at the man’s head, “Where the fuck is she?”

“Kill me if you want Rogers,” the man states flippantly. “Won’t change the fact she’s gone, and she isn’t coming back.” He stares at Steve for a moment before continuing. “They have her now.”

“Who’s they?”

“Hydra,” the man answers maliciously.

Confusion sweeps across his face, “What do they want with her?”

“They got word from one of their informants in another organization about a hunter who was turned. How she’s one of the best killers he’d ever seen,” the man states. “Don’t you think that would pique their interest?”

“She won't work with them,” Steve says strongly.

“They don't expect her to,” he responds raising an eyebrow. “They want to make more like her.”

The realization makes Steve nauseous and he swallows the bile rising in his throat, “Make more – how?”

With a small, sadistic laugh the man answers simply, “With her blood. How else?”

***

Steve’s able to get a general location for the facility where they’re keeping you, but he’s desperate and running out of options. So, he calls the one person he knows who might have an idea on exact locations of Hydra bases. Once he gives Barnes the information, he has coordinates dialed up and the quinjet en route to the base within minutes.

“What would Hydra want with her?” Sam questions from his seat.

Steve takes a deep breath, knowing this conversation was coming, “About that –”

***

The noise from outside the room you’re in stirs you awake. It’s not the safe, warm, comfort you feel when you wake up beside Steve. This small dark room unrecognizable. You don’t know how you came to be strapped upright to this cold, hard slab of steel, or how long there’s been a needle stuck in the vein at the bend of your elbow. The small plastic tubing full of dark red liquid as it drains your blood into a large bag below.

You try to break free of the restraints with no avail as the outside noise draws closer. Your mind races with questions – unsure who took you or why they want your blood. What the commotion is outside becomes your main concern as the doorknob across from you tries to turn. Feeling so weak in the face of possible danger isn’t something you’re used to and your heart races against your chest.

The door is forcefully kicked in and the brightness from the outside light blinds you momentarily as a dark figure approaches you. You turn your head away as the person gets closer – your fear apparent.

“It’s okay,” a familiar voice says. “It’s me – yea, I have her.”

“Buck,” you look back at the person in front of you in confusion.

“We gotta go,” he states dropping the blade in his hand to the floor before he pulls the leather cuffs from both your wrists. “Now.”

You slowly pull the needle from your arm as he jerks the restraints from your ankles. As soon as you take a step the light headedness takes over – room spinning out of control – your legs buckle.

“Shit,” Barnes says, looping his vibranium arm around your waist for support. “Come on, doll. Let’s go.”

“Steve,” you say his name questioningly as the two of you make your way out of the room.

“He’s here,” the man replies, glancing down with a small smirk.

Your bare feet hardly graze the concrete floor as Barnes moves quickly down the hall, speaking into his comm, “Heading down the south corridor. Yea – she’s lost a lot.”

“Who did this?” you manage to ask. “What’s happening?”

“Hydra,” Bucky says quickly. “They want to use your blood to make assassins like you.”

His statement sends a hundred different thoughts rushing through your mind, like how Hydra can’t just make assassins into vampires. They couldn’t control it. Does that mean Bucky knows that you’re a vampire?

A loud crash from in front of you makes Bucky stop moving and you feel him tense as pulls you behind him – shielding you from whatever is coming.

He relaxes after a moment and you hear another voice, “We have a problem.”

Sam.

You step from behind him, holding onto the cool metal arm for support. Your eyes meet Steve’s instantly and you see the relief wash over him as his pace quickens. He hands Barnes his machete as he pulls you into his chest tightly and you feel his lips press against the top of your head.

“This is great,” Sam’s voice states. “I’m glad your okay and all, but there’s like twenty hungry vampires heading this way.”

“They already started experimenting,” Bucky comments.

“You okay?” Steve’s hands are on your face as he tilts your head up to look at you.

“I’ll live,” there’s a small smile there and he kisses you gently.

“Good. We could use the back-up,” he responds with a smirk, pushing his sleeve up and offering you his wrist. “Full participation – no popcorn.”

“But,” you whisper hesitantly, eyes glancing over at Barnes and Wilson.

“It’s fine,” Steve says. “I told them.” You glance between them again before nodding and taking his hand.

“Oo – oooh fangs,” the level of disgust on Sam’s face as your fangs descend and you bite into Steve’s wrist is priceless. “Really – just like that? Ugh –” He makes a gagging noise as he turns around.

“Trust me,” Steve comments. “You’ll want her at full strength.”

Sam looks over at Barnes questioningly with his brows furrowed and the man shrugs his shoulders in response.

When the Hydra agents reach the hallway, you recognize the crazed look in their eyes. The bloodlust making them chaotic which makes them a little more dangerous.

“Be careful,” you remark to the men standing next to you, wiping the blood from the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. Steve gives you a small nod of understanding before the agents in front start advancing.

“Don’t you need a weapon?” Wilson glances to you suddenly aware you have nothing to fight with. The half-smile on your face is all the answer he needs. “Oh – okay.”

The fighting ensues and you keep the others in sight as they fight off the agents – all fangs and angry snarls. You slam your fist through the back of one of the men, grabbing his heart in the palm of your hand and ripping it out. His body falls limply to the floor and Sam looks from the bloody organ in your hand up to you – eyes blown wide.

“Damn,” he remarks under his breath.

The fight lasts minutes and hours at the same time, as you bite into the throat of a woman who tries to attack Barnes from behind as he’s decapitating another vamp – ripping it a chunk of her neck out with your fangs. He turns quickly, watching as you toss the woman aside, blood dripping from your mouth onto the front of Steve’s shirt.

“Thanks,” he nods, and you smile because there’s no judgement in his eyes at your ruthlessness.

When it’s over, only the four of you are left standing, all blood splattered and sweaty.

“Steve,” Sam looks over to his friend.

“Yea,” Rogers responds breathless, brushing his hair from his face.

“Remind me never to piss Twilight off,” Wilson says, and you place your hands on your hips as you narrow your eyes at him.

“We need to burn this place,” Bucky remarks, ignoring Wilson. “All your blood – it’s gotta go.”

“He’s right,” Steve says. “We need to burn it all.”

***

The fire gives the small living room a cozy feel as you settle onto the couch. You had phoned Donna about staying in her cabin – motels were off limits for a bit.

“Sam’s face,” Steve comments as he walks over to the couch.

“They seemed to handle it well though,” you remark as he sits down, and you scoot closer to his side.

“I watched you,” he says quietly. “You ripped out a woman’s throat – with your teeth.”

“She was going after Barnes,” you reply.

“I know,” Steve says, fingers lazily gliding up and down your arm. “Sometimes I forget how dangerous you can be.”

You glance up at him, “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, “Never be sorry for who you are.” His other hand moves to the side of your neck. “You’re dangerous, smart, and there’s no one I’d rather have by my side in, or out of, a fight.”

A smile crosses your lips and you comment, “Thanks. I did kill like ten vamps today in just a t-shirt.”

“My t-shirt,” he remarks salaciously. “Trust me – I noticed.” His lips move just below your ear, kissing you gently before he whispers. “Watching was fun.”

Later, your body jerks you awake from a nightmare. You were back in the Hydra facility and it was so cold and damp. You feel Steve’s arms tighten around you. Rolling over to face him, you see him looking at you groggily from moonlight streaming through the window.

“You okay?” he questions sleepily, and you nod with relief to see his face.

Your mouth captures his quickly for a moment before you respond, “I am now.”

Settling against him, you breath a sigh of relief.

Happy to be here with him.

Warm.

Safe.

[johnkrrasinski]

hush;

full masterlist

Pairings: steve rogers x female!reader (AU)

Word count: 2,171

Warning: SMUT, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex, mentions of prostitution(?). MUST BE 18+

Summary: steve rogers, a powerful business man hired you to be his escort for some social events. it certainly pays well to be his employee though.

a/n: wrote this for @allaboardthereadingrailroad​‘s marvel diversity  challenge. i chose the prompt pretty woman since it’s literally one of my favorite movies ever and i actually had this idea of steve rogers hiring me to be his escort and then ended up falling in love with me before i began writing fanfics. also, this was written with an asian reader in mind but this fic is inclusive to all types of ethnicity. enjoy!

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

"This way miss," Denis aka the elevator attendant guided you away from the elevator, crossing the lobby. he led you to a room in the hotel that you hadn't swung by before.

You could hear the euphonious sound of piano playing, though muffled by the door before Denis pushed it opened for you, revealing the person you had been looking for clad in his shirtsleeves. The lights in the room were dimmed and his audience was only the cleaning crew working the night shift. You approached him slowly, enjoying the sight of him playing the piano.

You'd always thought that piano was the most magnificent musical instrument and you used to sit at every piano stool every time you passed by one at the mall. you didn't grow up in a wealthy family, hence, you didn't have the resources to buy one and learn to master it yourself. So when you see people passionately dancing their fingers on the keys of this swanky instrument, you were always captivated. Just like how you were at the moment.

You stopped behind him, just standing there to watch the private show, and then once it was finished, the cleaning crew applauded and steve thanked them. You walked closer to the piano and leaned on the sleek black lid.

"I didn't know you played."

"I only play for strangers."

"I was getting lonely upstairs all by myself."

Steve turned his eyes to the crowd, "Gentlemen, would you mind leaving us, please?"

The cleaning crew exited the room and wished him goodnight.

You chuckled watching the scene plays out, "people always do what you tell them to do?"

Steve grabbed you by the waist and set you right in front of him. You could hear the poor yowling as you slid through. Steve placed his head on your belly, wordlessly asking for steam of solace.

You ran your fingers through his hair and looked down on him, your face formed a quizzical expression. Steve looked up, and you could see the weariness on his face. The dinner that you both had just attended left him fatigued and he wasn't one to open up about his emotions, no matter how burdensome they are. so he'd rather project them onto your body and drain all the exhaustion on you.

He began untying the belt of your robe and you were still clad in your cocktail dress underneath. He loved that look on you, he took a few seconds to regard at the way the delicate fabric wreathed your curves, showcasing the indentation flawlessly. He lifted your dress and the graze of his touch left shivers cascading down your spine. "I guess so," you whispered.

Steve grabbed you by the back of your thighs, lifted you and sat you on the piano. the keys once again filling the silence of the room as they were nudged by your feet.

He stared at you longingly as he stroked your hair that was falling on your face. He slowly inched his face closer to yours and then he pressed his kiss onto yours. It wasn't anything demanding or coy, but rather... Passionate. The kind that accelerates your heartbeat, filling your chest with sparks and made you crave for more. He grabbed your face as he kissed you and then he moved his lips down to your neck, arising butterflies in your stomach.

The bathrobe around your body slumped on the piano, leaving you only in your lace cocktail dress. Steve caressed the shape of your body, and you arched your back for him. He skimmed his fingers from your chest to your belly until he reached your thighs. He spread your legs apart and he sat down on the piano chair, ready to take his time with you. He lifted the hem of your dress once more to allow himself more access, then he pulled down your lace underwear down your legs and sniffed the sweet scent that lingered on the material.

He then lowered his face to your dripping core, and he latched his mouth onto the flesh of your inner thigh. He nipped the skin with his teeth, trailing little love bites all the way up to your core. The roughness of his beard against your skin created tantalizing burn.

He dipped his tongue into your core and licked a stripe on your pussy and you gasped at the titillation. He kept his hands on your creamy thighs to prevent them from closing in. He lapped on your sweet, dripping nectar ravenously, before he moved onto your clit and sucked it, gyrating your head. You moaned at the stimulation as you arched your back again. You tangled your fingers in his dark brown hair and tugged on it. "Oh, Steve..." You whimpered as he kept on devouring you like a famished man.

He groaned at your taste, the reverberation shot electricity through your veins. You could feel your climax approaching, a bubble forming in your abdomen, ready to burst. And then Steve knocked the breath out of your lungs by shoving two fingers at once to your entrance without a single warning, causing you to sit up and you watched his thick digits dissipating in and out of you.

"Look at you leaking all over my fingers, baby..."

His filthy words fueled the fire within you, making you even more drenched for him. He kept pumping in and out of you, scissoring your walls for him. He curled his fingers, scrubbing the spot that erases own name from your memory. His thumb made a circling motion on your bundle of nerves and you sighed in pleasure, with your eyes shut, getting high on the assault perpetrated by his fingers. At that moment, he was all you could think about.

You were such a ravishing sight; mouth hanging low with your eyes closed tight, dishevelled hair and rumpled dress adorning you, incoherent noises emanating from your lips as your chest heaved rapidly. He couldn't resist the urge to slam his lips onto yours again, weaving his tongue with yours as your breaths fused into one, resuscitating life into each other.

You felt your walls clenching around him and you hit your peak after a few more fervent pumps. Your entire body was coated in sweat as you attempted to regain control over your breathing. Steve kissed you once more, trying to calm you down from the aftershocks. "Shh, baby, I got you," a string of your knotted spittle connected your deprived lips; aching for more of each other.

Steve pulled away and he stood above you like the powerful tycoon that he was. He watched the way your breathing laboured and he pulled down the straps of your dress low enough until your breasts were bared. He fondled them as the cold temperature in the room making your nipples hard. Steve played with them and then he wrapped his lips around one of them as he kept toying with the other one. His mouth latched around them like a baby sucking its pacifier.

You gasped, moaning in ecstasy. He moistened your sensitive nipple with his spit and the act clouded your senses with desire. You wanted him to touch you, anywhere, anywhere he could lay his hands on. He then abruptly stopped the onslaught and he unzipped his pants, pulling it down along with his briefs until the belt clanked as it hit the floor.

"You're so fucking pretty..." He leaned down to your ear as the tip of his cock nudged your clit, making you whine. "You want me? huh? You want me to fill you up with my giant cock?"

"Yes, sir, please..."

"Beg for it, pretty girl."

"Sir, please fuck me, I need you..." you breathlessly pleaded with your eyes shut.

Steve startled you by slapping your cunt, making you gasp and jolting you to open your eyes. "look at me and show daddy how desperate you are for daddy's cock."

"Sir, please! I need your cock so bad, just fill me with your cum, please!" You pleaded with your eyes, hoping that it was enough for him to grant your wish.

"That's a good girl. You're so pretty when you're eager for my cock, aren't you?"

You nodded and licked your lips, "yes, yes, sir, I'm your pretty little girl."

"Yeah, you are," he chuckled as he slammed his cock into your entrance, the intrusion nearly pushed you to the edge. He began moving in and out of you, driving his hips forward vigorously and pulled it back just to repeat the brutal motion. You tried to put your arms around his neck to hold onto him but he snatched them and pinned them above your head as he kept his gaze fixated on you.

"Can they fuck you this good? Huh? I bet you had to fake it just to get them off of you," he sneered. You knew exactly the meaning behind his words; the men that had paid you to accompany them to their hotel rooms and to have sex with them never gave a fuck about your pleasure. It was always about getting themselves off and most of them were jacklegs compared to steve.

Steve pounded into you as your cunt swallowed every inch of him. The friction that he created against your g-spot was tantalizing, your wails echoed on the walls of the lounge. Your breasts bounced with every harsh thrust and he loved the raunchy sight. He lifted your trembling legs higher around his waist as he sank deeper into you.

"Fuck, you're so tight, baby, such a pretty pussy."

His groans and grunts aroused you even more, filling your ears with pornographic sounds. You felt yourself clenching once more around him and the coil in your abdomen spammed once more, ready to break in any second.

"You gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna show me what a dirty little whore you are?"

You nodded fiercely as you whimpered. "Yes sir, I'm so fucking close."

"I know you are baby, you're gonna cum exactly when I tell you, okay?"

"Yes, sir!"

Steve picked up his pace and your cries grew louder. You didn't care about any of the hotel guests or crew walking on you or hearing you at the moment. You only cared about your impending release and obeying steve's commands.

The squelching noises that your cunt makes were obscene as he kept impaling you until you squeezed around him. You felt the familiar pressure building up again, ready to explode. And then the waves of your second orgasm crashed over you, setting your nerve endings on fire. You screamed out in bliss as your climax kept rolling with each one of steve's thrust to reach his own release until you had no more drop to give.

Steve kept rutting into you until his cock throbbed against your walls and he unable to restrain himself any longer, he pulled out and pumping his thick, sticky load all over your breasts and stomach.

Your body felt completely boneless as you laid there with your racing heartbeat thumping against your ribcage. You quivered as steve laid on top of you, tucking his face into your neck, breathing the musty scent of sex and sweat on you.

"I hope they don’t have any surveillance camera in here…" You spoke a few seconds after recollecting yourself.

Steve let out a low chuckle, and he left minuscule kisses on your chest and your chin and then he rose from your body.

"They surely would enjoy the show, wouldn’t they?" he proudly retorted.

He helped you get up and set you down on the floor. You fixed your dress and he picked up the bathrobe and wrapped them around you to keep you warm and covered. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you snuggled close to him on the way up to your room.

You knew that this was strictly business and steve had made it crystal clear several times in the last few days you had been spending time with him; that you were his employee, not his escort or girlfriend. He hired you for simply business matters and for the sake of good appearance.

But in the last few days you had known him, you had also learned many wonderful things about him that he didn't seem to share to a lot of people. You could see how the dinner that he took you to had affected him and how it evoked a memory of his father, which he claimed that he didn't have such a harmonious relationship with even until the day of his demise.

You didn't know where or how this was going to end once the weekend was over but right now, you just needed to rid your head of irrelevant questions because from the smirk on his face and the way he threw you against the wall as soon as he unlocked the door of your room, you knew that he was ready for a second round. 

[trillian-anders]

amor de mi vida - 1942

pairing: bucky barnes x latinx!reader

warnings: racism, prejudice, fluff, angst, smut

word count: 3803

description: Bucky Barnes is a sweet young Brooklyn boy, just on the cusp of manhood, a hopeless romantic that falls in love with almost every girl he sees. when he sets his eyes on a young girl fresh off the boat from Cuba he finds out how hard love can really be.

for @cake-writes 1940s challenge.

“She’ll be taken care of.” Bucky said, straightening his bowtie, “If I die out there.” Steve sucked in his teeth. 

“Don’t say stuff like that.” Steve glared at him, “You’re not going to die out there.” Bucky had to be rational. There was a risk. Men die every day in war. And maybe it was selfish for him to ask you to marry him so soon after the death of your Mother but he knew war was brewing, and he knew he would be going. At least this way he could send his checks home to you, he could make sure you’re taken care of if he doesn’t make it home. And that’s what mattered. 

The love for you that he felt was unreal. He knew he was going to marry you, and it felt right. This day felt right. He wouldn’t change it for the world, but he only hoped you were feeling the same way. 

“I have to be realistic Stevie.” He stepped away from the mirror, turning towards his friend. “If anything happens to me, I need you to take care of her for me.” 

“I’m gonna enlist too.” Steve said, “I’ll be over there with you.” Bucky looked softly on his friend. 

“Steve, I don’t think they’re going to let you.” There was a rattle in his chest right now, the early spring, flowers just freshly budding. Steve was just shaking a cold. He steeled Bucky with a glare.

“I’m gonna do my part. You can’t change my mind.” It was a pointless argument. Bucky knew that anyone in their right mind would take one look at Steve and immediately deny him. The stubborn bastard was just going to keep trying. 

“You ready?” George Barnes asked, entering the room and straightening his tie. The two boys instantly disregarded the last conversation. Tension leaving the room as they knew it would be picked back up at a later date. There was one thing to focus on and one thing only. 

Bucky Barnes was getting married. 

He stood in the aisle of the church. The same church he’d been christened in about twenty years earlier. There weren’t many people here to be fair. Three of sisters sat beside his Mother in the pews, Steve stood beside him. And a couple of the girls he knew you worked with sat on your side as well. An older woman with a cane in the front. He’d seen you talking closely with her once or twice. A woman from your building he’d helped with her groceries just last week. A friend of your Mother’s.

It had taken a little work, convincing the priest to marry the two of you. When first approaching the Father having not seen him since he read your Mother her last rites, seeing him speak at her funeral, he struggled with whether or not he would allow your union. But finally settled on, “If your union be blessed, it shall be blessed by God.” 

He agreed to a small ceremony. No announcement. Not so certain members of the community wouldn’t be pounding on the rectory door. A small ceremony in the middle of the work week, quick. As quick as possible. 

He stood behind Bucky now, bible in hand. The small older woman who usually played the organ had been dismissed. Ginny was going to play the church piano as you made your walk down the aisle. Your arm in George’s. 

The piano began, the tinkling keys chiming through the wide open space, echoing off the high ceilings. The first sight of you took his breath away, eyes immediately watering. 

If Bucky could ever freeze a moment in time it would be right now. The thin veil shrouding your face, lips void of their usual victory red lipstick in a soft blush. The curve of your jaw, the corners of your lips upturned. Your dark lashes framing your deep brown eyes. Your hair swept from your face loosely curled, pinned in a bun at the nape of your neck. 

The dress you’d made yourself. The sweet white fabric was bought for you by his Mother as a gift. The satin reaching your knees. A splurge by him on some white peep toe heels that set his loins on fire.

His hands were shaking. Not out of nervousness, but excitement. 

Steve stood to his left as Becca settled across from him, not even realizing your shoes were trodding through the petals she just strewed down the aisle as you walked. 

You stopped in front of him and Bucky grew lightheaded as you peered up at him through your lashes.

Your hand met his, soft. He helped you up the three steps to stand in front of the altar. The good Father read from the Bible, and the two of you knelt before him as you took communion. 

Rings were exchanged to accelerated heartbeats. And a soft kiss exchanged at the end. 

“Hello Mrs. Barnes.” He whispered against your lips.

“Hello Mr. Barnes.” 

You’d bought a new bed for the apartment, you couldn’t bare to lay on the mattress your Mother died on. It was tossed before her body had even been in the ground. The new bedroom is a little lighter, the bundle of dried peonies from the early days hanging in a bouquet on the wall. An empty space where you’ll hang your wedding photo. 

It seems almost suffocating now. Bucky having swept you off your feet to carry you over the threshold, laughing and kissing you softly, the two of you toeing your shoes off to slow dance in the living room, drunk off champagne. 

His fingers twisted in the fabric at your hips as he chased your lips. Meeting over and over in an intense embrace. His fingers moved to toy with the buttons on the back of your dress, eyes half lidded starting at him as the two of you caught your breath. Your back met the wall in the hallway, his form covering yours, hips pressed together. The hard length of him throbbing in his trousers. 

Heart racing you turned and let him pull the buttons from the loops, the satiny white fabric coming to pool at your feet. He pressed his lips to your shoulder, brushing the thick curls out of his path.  

Your hearts were racing. The apartment suddenly so quiet, just the heavy panting breaths and the wet sound of your lips meeting. His thumbs brushed over your nipples through your brassiere. The white silky fabric over your hips held the nude hose on your thighs. His fingers dipping to play with the stay-ups. 

“Is this okay?” He whispered, pressing his lips to the skin below your ear. His bowtie hung loose around his neck, his shirt had two buttons undone, suspenders forgotten, pants low on his hips. You nod, shivering in excitement. His lips meet yours once more, walking you back towards the bed, the backs of your knees meeting the soft surface. You fell softly onto your back, Bucky’s half lidded eyes taking your body in as he slipped his shirt from his shoulders, toeing off his socks. 

“Te quiero [I love you].” Was whispered in the room as he shifted your slip from your body, tossing it behind him. Your brassiere quickly tossed as well, his calloused hands coming to lay under your breasts. Nipples pebbled in the cold air, his eyes stuck on yours as his pink tongue peeked from his lips. The cool muscle sent a shiver down your spine, a thrumming in your core as he took your rosy tan nipple into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the first true sexual contact the two of you have had. 

In those dark moments, in the front seat of his car, in the back office of the shop, in the kitchen after washing the dishes. Neither of you had dared. His fingers would twist in your skirt, brush against your calves. Breathy moans exchanged between kisses, but Bucky wouldn’t dare move further than that. Not until now. 

Your stay-ups were removed, deft fingers slipping your hose down your leg, the soft press of his lips following the path of exposed skin. Down one leg, then the other. His pants were discarded, the heavy weight of him against your thigh through his boxer shorts as his fingers tangled into your hair, slipping the pins loose. Your hands trembling on his lower back, the muscles shifting underneath your fingertips. 

“Eres tan hermosa. [You’re so beautiful].” He mumbled against your throat, trailing his lips back down your body to the top of your silk and lace, covering your last bit of modesty. His blue eyes met yours, blush pink lips bitten between his teeth as he dipped his fingers into your hips, pressing his face against the junction between your thighs. Your face flushed as he took a steady inhale. His tongue coming out to lap against the fabric. Once. Your fists clenching at your sides. Thighs trembling. 

“James…” Your breath hitching as he pulled the last scrap of fabric from your body. 

“Y/N…” He kissed your hip, “Let me do this.” His hands found your thighs, pressing them up against your chest, your face flushing with heat. Eyes unable to meet his. You lay an arm across your face. Nervously unable to look as his cool breath met your labia. His fingers parting your lips and that strong, soft muscle coming to lap at your entrance for the very first time. 

Your breath caught in your chest, “Tell me what feels good.” His tongue fumbling, searching for a spot he’d been told about, nervous and shaking. Your hips bucked against his face as he found it. The little bundle of nerves that made you release a moan from deep in your throat. His cock twitched in his shorts, rubbing it against the bed to try to release some of the pressure he was currently feeling. 

You’ve touched yourself before, but it never felt like this. This felt so much better. The soft muscle of his tongue lapping at the little bundle of nerves, a wet sound filling the room. An obscene wet sound. Your moans increase as the pleasure builds. Chasing your release against his face. His arms circled your thighs as you became breathless. Back arching as you came on his tongue, a moan hummed against your clit as you grabbed your breasts, hips bucking wildly as you rode out your orgasm. Panting with release. 

The room quieted as you reveled in a glow. Bucky shifted back onto his knees between your legs, the head of his cock poking from his waistband, a bead of precum shining on the tip. His hands massaged your trembling thighs before slipping his boxers off of his hips, the heavy weight of him pressed against your body, hands cradling your head as he kissed you. The tang of you heavy on his lips. 

“I love you.” You whispered against his lips as the tip of his dick met your entrance. Knees shifted around his hips, his hand met the mattress next to your head, eyes looking down long enough for him to watch as his head disappeared inside you. His eyes looking back into yours, 

“I love you too.” Your wet channel gave way easily to him, a slight burn from the stretch, neither of you breathing until he was fully seated inside of you. You couldn’t look away from one another as he stilled. His fingers laced into yours, breaths mingling, eyes watery. His hips shifted back, before slowly meeting yours. His teeth tugged on your bottom lip as he set rhythm. 

Soft moans soon filled the room. Heavy breathing, the wet sound of your body giving into his. It didn’t last long, your first time. His first time. His hips stuttering against yours soon after they’d met for the first time. His release spilling inside of you as his head found your shoulder. The two of you lay connected for a minute before Bucky rolled to the side, pulling you tightly against his chest, fingers twisted in your hair. 

“The next time will be longer,” A blush on his cheeks, “I promise.” 

The next morning, when the first rays of the sun met the corners of the apartment, Bucky’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as his hips met yours, your leg pulled over his hip as you lay facing each other. One hand kneading your ass as he ground your clit against his pubic bone, your fingers slipping between you to bring yourself over the edge, head tossing back moaning as he released into you for the third time that night. 

“Te quiero.” Again. And Again. 

It was a few months later. Just a few months into your marriage. He came home in uniform. And your heart stopped. He’d entered the home, an apology of flowers in his hand, hat held at his side. Your back had been to him, humming as you pressed together dough around the spiced meat mixture you’d marinated the night before. 

Bucky’s heart dropped as he realized you were making him lunches for the week. Lunches he wouldn’t be eating. He should have told you, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to see you cry. But it couldn’t be helped. 

“My love.” He spoke from the doorway, and when you turned to him he could see your face immediately fall, eyes beginning to shine with tears. “I’m so sorry.” He watched you toss the small pastry onto the counter top, turning from him. “Dahlin’ please.” 

“Don’t call me that.” You wiped your hands on a dish towel. The flowers were laid on the kitchen table, “When are you leaving me?” His heart dropped in his chest, 

“I’m shipping out tomorrow.” A loud clang as you dropped the pan you were holding. He flinched. 

“Mañana?” He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t see you cry. Your voice was cracking, “How long have you known?” His hands met your shoulders, but you shrugged them off, moving out of reach. 

“They just gave me my orders today.” A sheet of paper on the kitchen table, one he’d just put there. His tag number and division. “Please don’t do this babydoll.” Your eyes were firey, overflowing with anger as you picked up the paper, only being able to understand a few words there. 

“War ruins people James.” He could feel his eyes sting, tears building at the despair in your voice. “My Father, when I was a child…” You sunk down at the kitchen table, “He fought in the rebellion.” Your eyes scanning the paper trying to make sense of it, “The Cuban military had been killing Afro-Cubans, there’d been a massacre. A few years before I was born. My father fought with Estenoz against the Cuban Army but they failed.” Your watery eyes met his. “He was never the same. My Mother became pregnant with me a few years later but… he killed himself before I was ever born.” Bottom lip trembling. 

Bucky sunk down to his knees in front of you, hands gently grasping yours, “I can’t stand by and let the Nazi’s get away with what they’re doing.” His jaw clenched, before he brought your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles, “They’re saying that people are being kept in camps, being tortured, killed. Who would I be if I didn’t do what I could to stop them?” 

“I don’t want you to go.” The small plea broke his heart. He didn’t want to do this to you. He didn’t want to leave you. But there was an obligation. His Father fought in the last war. His Grandfather fought in the Civil War. His Great-Great Grandfather fought in the Revolutionary War. They all came home, and so will he. But just in case he didn’t...

“Steve will be here.” He kissed the inside of your wrists, “He’ll keep you company until I get back.” If he gets back. You shake your head, eyes spilling over with tears. “Amor de mi vida,” He kissed your knuckles, bringing your hands to his shoulders, burying his face in your stomach. “This is for us, for our future.” Mumbled into the fabric of the cotton apron detailed with hand stitched little pies and cakes you’d worked on while listening to the radio at night. 

What future? 

“There is no future if you’re gone.” You lifted his face to yours. His eyes wet with tears. What more could be said? There was a stalemate. But you knew he had to go. You knew as soon as the news report about the attack on Pearl Harbor that you’d be losing him. It made your heart ache. 

That night the two of you couldn’t get close enough. 

The hot breath, whispered sighs. The rocking of his body against yours, fingers intertwined and your breasts pressed against his chest, legs wrapped around each others as you met over and over in a loving sweet crescendo. The shaky breaths of settling after, your lips met the skin of his shoulder. 

You’d gone to the Stark Expo. 

Steve had disappeared somewhere in the night. Bucky shrugging and saying not to worry about it, that Steve said he’d be by for breakfast tomorrow before Bucky left you. Before he left both of you. 

“I’m fine,” Winnie sighed, watery and obviously not fine, “I’m alright.” The Barnes household was tense this morning. A goodbye from all that no one knew if it would be their last or not. Bucky was dressed in his uniform sans hat, drinking coffee with George at the dining table. The girls chattering about in the kitchen, setting the table, bringing out plates. But even their enthusiasm was stunted by the knowledge that Bucky had to be at the dock in an hour and a half. 

His hand gripped yours under the table. His left in your right. His thumb tracing a soothing pattern over the back of your hand. 

“Everyday Buck.” Ginny said, “We’re expecting a letter everyday.” Becca was quietly picking at the scrambled eggs on her plate. Suzy and Ruth had been taking turns hugging their brother all morning. 

“I’ll do my best Gin.” Steve hadn’t showed. Bucky was trying not to feel too down about it. 

“Maybe he’s feeling down about being rejected again yesterday.” George reasoned. Maybe. Bucky sighed, clearly upset with his friend’s absence. You tighten your grip reassuringly and he gives you a tight smile. 

“That’s probably it.” Bucky put a slice of pancake into his mouth, a little syrup dribbled onto his chin. You took your napkin, licking the corner before wiping the sticky substance from his face. 

“It’s hard for him.” You assure Bucky, “He’ll miss you.” 

“We’ll all miss you.” Becca grumbled from across the table. It wasn’t a secret that Becca was angry with Bucky. She hadn’t talked to him much since the two of you had gone for dinner a couple weeks beforehand and he talked about enlisting. The cold shoulder she had perfected over the years, her stubbornness was the same as Bucky’s. She could go on forever. 

Bucky sighed, smiling at his youngest sister. “I’ll miss you the most Becks.” You smile softly, the little girl’s watering eyes wiped before they could spill. 

The docks were busy. Thousands of soldiers dispatched, ready to fight. The Barnes family said their goodbyes, you gave them their time. The girls sobbing, Winnie comforting them as George and Bucky had one last moment together as Father and Son. A promise of “I’ll see you soon, you better write.” 

The affection George Barnes had for his family was unparalleled. In a time where men didn’t show emotion, they were distant, moody, belt welding masters of the house. George Barnes was a sweet man who always made time for his children. Doted on his wife. The girls with every new dress they bought would model them for their father and he would appreciate a detail. “I really like that bow, or that color green really suits you.” 

“We’ll keep an eye on her son.” He whispered to his boy, his eyes watering, “Do me a favor.” His hand gripping Bucky’s shoulder tight, “Don’t be a hero.” Bucky’s eyes widened with the statement. “I know you, and I know you want to fight for what is right and what you believe in but trust me when I say this…” A somber tone in his voice, “Men will die around you, people you grow to care about, men you love, civilians you wish you could have saved.” George began to cry, wiping the tears before they were dripping from his chin, “Don’t do anything that you know will get you killed, you’ve got a wife and family to come home to. You hear me?” 

“Yeah Pops, I hear you.” Bucky was brought in for a hug. The barreled chest of his father gave him some comfort for his shaky nerves.  George Barnes was a man that had seen war. The quiet nights, the ones he wouldn’t talk about. Those nights Bucky knew he would be coming home with. But George Barnes was a good man. He took care of his family, he was a good father. And Bucky was lucky for that. 

“Hi.” You breathed, eyes already watering. Bucky frowned, holding his arms out for you. 

“Oh dahlin, don’t cry sweetheart.” The two of you rocking back and forth. His family partially blocked you from view in this secluded corner of the docks. “I’ll be back before you know it.” 

“I love you,” So soft and sweet against your lips. The memory of last night and this morning, the longing to be close again. A picture of you was stuffed into his journal. A small photo of your wedding picture was in his wallet. 

“I love you too dahlin,” His hooded eyes gazing into yours, “I’ll be back before you know it.” You nod, the tears slipping freely down your cheeks to be caught by his fingers, gripping your jaw and bringing your lips back to his again. A long soft languid kiss, a kiss goodbye. 

“Come home to me Barnes.” He nods, kissing you one last time. 

“There’s no one on this earth that could take me away from you,” He cooed, “Especially not Adolf Hitler.” 

You saw him on the deck of the ship. Hand waving among men, blowing you a kiss as the horn cut through the air and the ship left dock. You couldn’t move. Heart racing and sweaty palms until the ship disappeared. Winnie’s hands met your arms, smoothing down the blue velvet dress you were wearing. You fiddled with the buttons on the front, 

“We have to go now honey.” You nod, eyes still staring out at the horizon, wishing the ship back. 

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taglist //  @corneliabarnes​ @bookish-shristi​ @saturnki​ @jennmurawski13​ @geeksareunique​ @albinotigerpython​ @cake-writes​ @iheartsebastianstan​ @000bananaclip000​ @shadowbuisness​ @sprinkleofbooty​ @gifsbysimplysonia​ @vhsbarnes​  @the-soulofdevil​ @tinmunky

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

Ruin Me

Summary: How do you get your Captain’s attention? Act up..like the little brat that you are. Pairing: Steve x Female Reader Warning(s): 100% pure, grade A smut with minimal plot, 18+, mild degradation, dom!Steve, butt stuff ;) Word Count: 2,259 Beta Reader: My darling honey bun, @supersoldiersruined-me Notes: This is my entry to @moonbeambucky’s 5K writing challenge. My prompt was “ruin me” and it’s bolded. Thank you so much for hosting this, Tara!

The two of you had danced around these emotions and lust filled looks long enough to annoy nearly everyone on the team. Now that you’re a whining needy mess, taken apart underneeth the heft of his body, you could kill yourself for waiting so long. Who would have thought it was an offhand comment and a spilled bit of water that broke the camel's back?

Steve had flung you over his shoulder in near rage and stalked away from the party. He hadn’t gone down to the residential floors in the tower, instead choosing the small pool shed. It was only a handful of paces away, but by far the most private thing on the rooftop deck. You’d begged him to reconsider. You knew damn well the walls were thin and everyone could hear. All worries flew out the window sometime after the second pulsing orgasm Steve pulled from your core; his lips buried deep in your dampness.

He flips you over, back arched against his unyielding chest. The warmth of his skin against your back adds to the heated fire dancing across your skin. Your chest is pressed against the door of the shed. If you crane your neck, you can see the rest of your teammates gathered around the pool.

Steve presses and kneads the flesh of your ass with each grind of his hips. You’re livid he’s got you soaked and doe-legged and he hasn’t taken off a scrap of clothing. You’re well past coherent sentences. You attempt to turn to undo his swim shorts but he presses you roughly back against the door, caging you in with his arms around you. The slap he delivers to the exposed skin stings. You’re certain the mark will last well into tomorrow.

“You have been such a goddamn brat for weeks now,” he huffed before spanking the other cheek so they both burn equally.

You truly had.

Sitting in Steve's lap during movie nights while squirming just the right amount until you felt his cock twitch and grow below you; then you went off to your room chipper as can be. The last mission you’d been on, you had squeezed yourself into the same broom closet as your Captain. Your hand wandered south, tracing the lines of his stealth suit while he tried to do his reconnaissance. Two days ago in the gym, you’d accidentally gotten cleaned up in the men's locker room. Steve walked out of the shower to you slathering yourself in lotion with your legs spread obscenely wide.

He’d tried to hold out; knowing full well he, as your Captain and you the subordinate, shouldn’t consider a tenth of the filth which was a constant scroll line in his head. You couldn’t find it in you to give a fuck. Worst case scenario you got to see Steve blushing and flustered. Best case- he’d crack and show you the side he’d only shown glimpses of.

You knew he was rough and dominant in bed. A couple drinking games with Asgardian mead had Natasha and you pressing him for answers. That night he let slip he’s not interested in anyone from the team for professional reasons. But he was struggling to find someone who could handle his unorthodox needs in bed.

“Being dominant is fun when you know all you’ll leave is bruises instead of broken arms”. he’d said.

With your arms pinned in an uncomfortable angle behind your back you now understood why. If it wasn’t for your similarly reinforced anatomy and superstrength, Steve would have already split you in half. It was thrilling to know he probably still could despite your enhanced abilities.

Tonight had gone similar to so many other team get togethers. Joking, teasing, food and drinks. Things had taken a turn when Sam had mentioned he had seen on the news there was an Avengers themed wet t-shirt contest to be held this weekend.

“Yeah, legal asked me if I had any interest in shutting it down. But I figured it’s a public service...in its own way.” Tony chimed in, pairing his words with his signature eyebrow waggle.

“You’re disgusting.” Natasha joked.

“Thoughts, Cap?” Sam prompted. “The girl who’s wearing your t-shirt looks like she could easily take home the prize. If you know what I mean.”

“What’s a wet t-shirt contest?”

Sam and Tony quickly explained the concept. Steve had still looked moderately perplexed. “I still don't get the objective.”

“Here Stevie. It’s like this” You grabbed a pitcher of ice water from the picnic table. “Pretend I’m a contestant.”

You dump the ice cold water across your white shirt in slow, chilling rivulets. You can feel your nipples pebbling from how brazen you were being. The lack of a bra certainly didn’t help the matter. The entire pitcher of water had reduced your top to a thin, transparent, gauze-like  imitation of the garment. Each swell and curve of your skin below was on display to your Captain and teammates.

“Would you vote for me?” You brave a glance up to his face, eyelids fluttering. His eyes are hard and cold. His jaw is set and ticks with each passing second. You lay on another thick layer of sweetness. “Does this turn you on enough for me to win?”

Someone in the background whistles low. Steve’s chest heaves with a calculated deep breath.

“Maybe I’ll ask Sam and Bucky what they think.”

Before you can act, Steve had thrown you over his shoulder. He set you down on the floor of the pool shed roughly.

“What the hell was that?”

You contemplate the truth but decide to keep up the game. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Captain. Just a bit of fun.”

The sound that erupts from his chest would be closer to an animalistic growl than any human sound. He backs you up against the small sink in the shed. His large hand cups you between your legs.

“Just a bit of fun?” He mocks. “So if I check right now, you wouldn’t be wet?”

It’s as much of an exciting promise as it is him asking for your consent.

“Why don’t you get down there and see for yourself.”

He’d pulled the first orgasm from you with his thick fingers and the other two with his mouth latched onto your core. Had anyone walked in, they would have seen your legs spread wide and Steve’s golden locks nestled in the middle, lapping you up like a man possessed.

You’d thought that would be the end of it. Steve had clearly proven his point. You’d been a teasing brat and he’d thoroughly punished you with each shuttering release gushing against his mouth. But he was far from done with you. Pressed against the door, your muscles strain. If he hadn’t been holding you up and bracing your arms you’re certain you’d fall to the floor.

“Have you learned your lesson, little one?

Words fail you. All you can manage are pathetic whimpers while he ghosts his lips along your neck. He nudges your legs apart roughly with a kick from his feet.

“Or should I help the message sink in? That is, if you can handle it?”

Something jogs in your brain. His question was one to which an answer was mandatory if this is to proceed further. Even when he’s taking you apart in such a rough, sensual way he finds a way to be a gentleman and check in with you.

“Ruin me, Captain.”

You’re surprised at the clarity in your words but it's nevertheless exactly what Steve needed to hear. He rips his bottoms off and runs his length against your wetness. Your bodies are nestled like spoons; curves meeting curves while he slides and ruts against your sensitive slick.

The buildup of months of teasing and foreplay has you drenched. You hear the sounds of your wet skin against his. It should be embarrassing. What little dignity you had has been thrown out the window. You never wanted this feeling to stop.

Steve’s drenched his cock in your wetness and stops. A pathetic whimper bubbles up from your throat but is choked off by a press of his cockhead against your opening. It’s not where you expect it to be. He stills.

“You thought your wet tits were what pushed me over the edge, huh? Little did you know, your Captain has always been more of an ass man.”

Your core clenches at the thought. It feels left out knowing what he’s asking. Instead answering him directly, you push your hips back against his ever so slightly. The soft head of his cock slips into your tight ring.

“You stretch me so good, Captain.” You attempt to push back further but his strong hands prevent you.

“You like feeling my cock in your tight asshole; knowing our friends are just outside this door?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“I thought so. You seem to be enjoying this a bit too much for someone who was being a little brat.” You mentally slap yourself. “I’m not so sure you deserve this.”

Without warning, his fingers are on your core again. He draws slow lazy circles around your clit never touching you exactly where you need. The overstimulation from his previous actions have you ringing like a tuning fork. Every so often, the circles stop and he swipes up the center of your lips; giving your your clit the friction it needs. Your core flutters and clenches and his cock slips a tiny bit further into you.

That’s how he tortures you. You aren’t sure how long it’s been since your wet t-shirt ploy. Minutes or hours. It doesn’t matter. The only thing you can think about is the pulsing need coming from your cunt and the dizzyingly slow stretch of Steve’s cock in your ass.

Bit by bit he enters your. His level of control is impressive and infuriating. One hand plays in your wetness with expertise and the other doing it’s job of locking your hips into place. You’re his. Completely.

“Steve,” you pant. It’s the only word that’s broken through the chorus of curses and pleads. “Steve!”

The second one has more urgency. He’s edged you so painfully close to your release only to move his hands off your sensitive clit and back to your surrounding wetness. This time though, his fingers press heavier pressure against the nub.

“Are you sorry?”

“Yes Steve!”

You gulp air but the moaning has your throat parched.

“I’m sorry! I need to cum.”

“Sorry for what?”

He growls the words into the shell of your ear. If it wasn’t shameful enough that you’re putty in his hands simply with his fingers and his stiff cock only halfway in your ass, the fact he’s forcing you to speak now was too much.

“You know why.” The pads of his fingers press harder against you.

“Say it.”

You’ve never heard his voice this low. A fresh gush of wetness floods his fingers.

“Say it now. Or I’ll walk out of here; leaving you gaping and needy.”

“I’m sorry for being a tease.”

“You must have forgotten who you’re talking to, little one,” he tutts.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. You can feel the smirk of his lips against your skin.

He’s pushing your resolve further than you thought possible.

“I’m sorry for being a tease, Captain.”

“There you go, little one.” With a kiss far to gentle for the mood, he praises you. “That wasn’t so hard was it?”

You whimper and twitch as his hand still works it’s unyielding rhythm against you. His cock stands in stark contrast as it’s never made a full thrust inside you.

“Let’s get you to cum, little one.”

He kisses your neck once and presses two of his thick digits into your cunt. The hand on your hips pulls you flush to him and seats the full length of him inside you. The jump from being teased to long to being fully filled nearly has your legs give out.

“How does it feel to be so full, little one? You like my cock inside you?”

They’re questions he can’t possibly expect you to answer unless it’s with moans. His fingers massage steady pressure against the spot you need him most inside you. He’s still unmoving inside your ass. His voice is strained and his breathing seems to quicken. Both of your holes flutter and clench around him.

“Cum, sweetheart. I wanna feel you.”

A damn breaks inside you and tingles erupt across your skin. Warmth radiates from your core outwards as your orgams rocks through you with an intensity you couldn’t have expected. When the first wave calms, you feel Steve’s warmth flood you from behind. The aftershocks of your release have you twitch and clench around him. He’s filled you so deeply there’s nowhere for it to go. It drips like honey down your thighs.

It’s a long while before either of you move. When you’re disentangled, he turns you to face him. You’re ready for him to brush this away. After all, you know he’s your superior officer. He places a palm on each side of your face. The gentle press of his lips on your forehead first, then your nose, and finally your lips has you surprised.

“For the record, I love it when you’re a brat.” You smile and meet his lips once more, savoring the taste of him.

“Maybe I’ll act up again sometime.”

“I’d like that, sweetheart.”