#past!steve rogers x stark! reader

[viixenvi]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 | 18+

Summary: You have been planning to steal some information from the Avengers compound. You successfully break in but what happens when the one person you never wanted to see again ends up catching you?

Characters: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark

Warnings: Torture, fighting, reader gets caught and tied up, heavy make-outs, slight flirting, some oral (Nat receiving), reader leaves Nat high and dry, villain fem!reader (Reader and Nat hate fuck whenever they catch each other guys)

This was not my best work, actually kinda bad and not proofread so forgive mistakes and like forgive me if it's bad I just had this idea weeks ago and decided to actually write it at 3 AM

Minors DNI

It was only a matter of time before you could escape. Sneaking into the Avengers compound was hard, it took weeks of planning and landing a job as a maid.

Stark was always hiring and it was just perfect when you got a call back that you had been selected for the job. Of course, this job came with risks to your plan. If you were suspected at all by any of the avengers you'd be finished. Which is exactly why you had a disguise.

Shape shifting was your specialty. It had just happened oneday, you woke up with powers of some sorts. You had no idea how to control them or how you even got them.

You were hoping this hard drive you were planning to take had the answers to some of your problems. You could only change your appearance, make others see you differently.

The only person you had to avoid at all costs was Natasha. She knew things about you that you hadn't told anyone else. You and her had a long history, one that you prefer not to think about. You had fought her previously, working with Loki. That went down hill fast and you managed to stay low since then.

Now you were definitely going to set off their radars. You have a plan though, you always have a plan.

"Can you get the lab too while you are at it?" Tony asks me as I mop the floor. I look up and nod, giving him a shy smile. He walks away, his phone in his hand.

Perfect excuse to be in his lab. You walk towards the lab, your heart racing. It was time, finally. You felt relieved, it was finally going to be over and you'd never have to see the avengers ever again.

"You are not authorized to enter this area." The voice startles you slightly. J.A.R.V.I.S was a pain to deal with.

"Mr. Stark asked me to mop the lab," You tell him. You hear nothing or a minute before the card scanner beeps with a green light and the doors click. That was surprisingly..easy?

This was too easy, you hesitate for a moment. You glance around the lab before your eyes land on a hard drive. It's the hard drive. No way Tony would just leave this out conveniently, not when he knew there was a chance it would be stolen by anyone.

But it's right there, and you don't think you have another chance. So you slowly walk up to the table, pretending to mop and swiping the drive off the table.

It swiftly makes the journey to your pocket and you walk out of the lab, leaving the mop on the floor. You have no idea how you can get out without at least being detected.

Stark was far from stupid, but your powers deceived him enough. Now all you had to do was fake an emergency and leave. You pick up the phone, pretending to get a call and panicking.

You find Steve in the living room, cleaning his shield off. "Can you please tell Mr. Stark I have to leave? There's a family emergency!" You spit out before he can really react. You are in the elevator as he says he will.

Something about the way he looked at you was confusing. He didn't even ask if everything was alright like you thought he would. If Steve was one thing, he was compassionate.

You knew they knew about your plans, or at least that you were there to steal the drive. As if on cue, the elevator doors open and Natasha is staring right at your face.

"Hello милый," her voice is sweet, just like how it used to be. You stand there for a moment, drinking in her features. You had spent the past weeks avoiding her and you never got the chance to really see her.

"Natasha, any chance you can let me go?" You say, one hand on the back of your neck as you laugh awkwardly. She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. So it's a no.

Her fist raises to your face and you block it, swiping your leg under hers. She falls back and manages to flip onto her feet. You land a punch to her face, which angers her.

She kicks your stomach, causing you to stumble back. Before you can even think, she punches your face. You can feel the blood gushing out of your nose. You wipe it away with your hand while Natasha stands in front of you. She's focused on your face and movements.

You could tell she was analyzing you. You both hadn't fought each other in a while and it was obvious you were holding back. You couldn't get yourself to hurt her.

Natasha runs past you, jumping up off the wall and wrapping her legs around your neck. You pin her arms back and lean down, flipping her over in front of you. She breaks free from your grasp and jumps, spinning and kicking you directly in the face.

You fall over and close your eyes, consciousness barely hanging on. Natasha is a damn good fighter and you could admit it. Natasha hovers over you, pulling the drive out of your pocket.

"Some things don't change," She says just before you black out.

When you finally wake up, pain surges through your body. The familiar metallic taste of blood in your mouth reminds you of what happened.

You move to pull your hands free but it seems they cuffed you with some heavy metal cuffs. They definitely seem to be stopping your powers from being used. You are in a bedroom, which seems to be weird for the team as they have their own interrogation room and cells.

A figure comes into view and you know it's Natasha. "It's funny, you always end up in front of me bound by something," She chuckles. I sigh and close my eyes, the headache pounding in my head is not helping the pain.

"If you are going to kill me, just do it."

Natasha pulls her knife out, pushing the tip under my chin and lifting my head. "Aw, you wound me, baby."

"Don't call me that," You spit, clenching your jaw. You and Natasha always had a love-hate relationship. You were a villain and her job was to kill them.

"Tell me why you need the drive and maybe we can have a little fun," She whispers in your ear. You decide to play along, long enough for her to get you out of these cuffs.

"If I tell you, will you take these cuffs off?" You ask, giving her a defeated look.

"Yes."

"They paid me to take it, said there are plans on it they need. I didn't get any other information. I just know that they can kill me easily." Natasha sits on the chair across from you, spinning her knife in her hand.

"Who?"

"I have no idea. Some alien guy, he's weird looking," You tell her. You try to steady your heartbeat and avoid actions that will tell her you are lying.

Natasha seems to like this answer because she gets up and walks behind you. A moment later, the cuffs are no longer clasped on your hands.

You feel Natasha's hands on your shoulders, gliding down your arms. You almost shiver at her touch. You don't want to play into this, but she has given you no choice.

There's a smile on her face when you spin around, your hands on her waist. Your lips meet hers and the kiss is almost electric. Her lips are soft and you taste the cherry lipgloss.

She pushes you onto the bed but you flip over and get on top of her, unzipping her suit. Her belt is thrown onto the floor, not before you take something out of it.

"Fuck, I need you so bad," You whisper against the skin of her neck. You kiss down it, your warm lips sending shivers down her spine.

Her hands roam your body, pulling up your shirt. You stop her before she can fully take it off. "No, let me take care of your first, baby."

She pulls you into a kiss before you descend down her body, leaving trails of kisses. You pull the rest of the suit down to her ankles, kissing up her thigh.

You reach her lips, kissing them before spreading her legs and pushing your face close. Your tongue glides over her clit, circling it. Natasha moans, lifting her hips up and throwing her head back.

You wanted so badly to finish what you started, but you needed the drive and Natasha wasn't going to distract you again.

So you pull away, crawling on top of her and grabbing her face to kiss her. You carefully place a tazer disk on her neck and get off her before activating it.

Natasha gasps and falls unconscious from the tazer and you cover her up with a blanket. This was payback for the last time she caught you. This was your thing, always leaving the other wanting more. It kept up the attraction.

This time you may have gone too far, but your life depended on getting this drive and you didn't care what you did to get it.

You won this time.

[hoppers-babygirl]

Hello!! Uhm it’s always awkward but bills suck and so does my job- but if anyone wanted to send in a tip that would be much appreciated! Or even message me for a commission (?), on a story, I think that’s the right word. I will leave my kofi link and my usual writing days are Sunday’s and Tuesday’s, I’ve also been writing some things that will soon be out if anyone was curious! Thank you again 🤍

[yummymitzy]

It means everything to me.

Summary: The team decides to play a truth or dare game to end the night after one of Tony’s parties. Throughout the game, reader felt eyes on her, but she doesn’t know that they came from a certain redhead. Would something grow between them once the night falls?

Warnings: G!P Nat, SMUT, hair-pulling, back shots against door, spanking, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, Nat jus bein rough n jealous, 18+ MINORS DNI

WC: 3,154 

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Rogers!Reader

————♡————

Stark parties at the compound were so very often hosted, it could have been for any occasion. As long as Tony thought it was a good time to celebrate, he’d host a party for that night. Today just happened to be one of those nights.

You, your brother Steve, Bucky, and Wanda were sent out on a mission four days ago. You four came back to the compound and deemed the mission successful, which made Tony practically jump up and exclaim that he’d host a party for tonight for another mission gone well.

You were definitely a party person, the life of a party whether you were drunk or not. But goddamn? The last party the team hosted felt like yesterday to you, when it was actually last week, but that was still close enough right? 

As of right now, you were getting ready for his party, as you take a quick glance at your phone, it was 5:45 and the party was at six, so you definitely had enough time to be ready by then. You set down your phone as you went straight to your closet, your makeup already done.

After rummaging through your dresses, it took you a few minutes before you came across your dress of the night and put it on. It was a backless maroon dress with a slit that went dangerously high on your upper thigh, the back of the dress incredibly accentuated your ass to which you appreciated. 

Overall it was a great dress, who were you going to impress? You weren’t sure but you had an idea though. You strolled out of your closet and heard a knock echo through your bedroom, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. You still had way more time you wondered as you went to open the door.

There stood Bucky clad in a dark blue suit, hand still raised in the air as if he was going to open the door. Regaining his composure instantly, he drops the hand and leans against your doorway.

“You clean up nice, Buck. Didn’t think you still knew how to groom yourself with all that time you were up in the ice.” You tease lightly as you step back from your door and heading over to your vanity, putting in shiny gold earrings to complement the red.

“Hey… Don’t get used to it though.” He acts slightly hurt before switching to a joking manner. “But do hurry up, doll. At this point the party will be waiting up on you.” 

“I’m done, was just putting in earrings. Now cmon, I need a drink.” You slip on your red bottomed heels and brush past Bucky as you head down the corridor of the elevator, laughing slightly as he tries to catch up before the doors close.

As soon as the elevators open to where the party was being held, you went straight to the bar, in desperate need for a drink. Your eyes widen slightly before you smirk, realizing that Natasha had been put on bar duty.

Natasha was glammed up, hair curled down to her back, a long fitted emerald dress that showed off all her curves, it ran down to her knees and glimmered in the light. Her bright red lipstick complimenting it as she also has on some emerald earrings. 

You approach the bar, surprised Natasha hadn’t caught sight of you yet, until you stood right in front of her eyes, smirking. 

“Hey Nat, what got you doing bar duty tonight?” You lean against the bar counter, your arms crossed. The action making Natasha stare down at your breasts hungrily before she snaps her attention back onto you.

The thing was that you and Nat had this thing going on, where you’d both go back and forth with trying to flirt with each other. You never knew when exactly it started, Nat just started calling you pet names and being more touchy one day.  

But what she didn’t know was that the game got real on your side. You didn’t know what changed but you started becoming more flustered with her advances and even started blushing, something you never did. Until you realized, you liked her.

It had come a shock to you at first but as time passed, you came to terms with it and just played along with Natasha. It wasn’t like she liked you back, you doubt it, hell she might even be cuddling it up with Bruce.

“Fella did me wrong.”

“You got a real weird taste when it comes to your people Nat.” You laugh as you sat upon one of the many stools in front of the counter.

“It’s not all bad, and my taste in people are quite immaculate if you asked me, Y/n” She raised an eyebrow as she prepared your usual whiskey neat, before sliding it over to you as you laugh.

“Alright, alright, I’ll catch you later, Red” You stood up, your whiskey in hand as you go out to the couches and plopped yourself right next to Sam.

————♡————

You had completely lost track of what time it was, the party was long over and the after party had just started. 

You were sat in between Sam and Bucky with Tony on the far side of the couch. Across from you had been Bruce Natasha and Clint, while to the couch on the right of you was Wanda, Vision.   The couch left of you consisted of Tony, Thor, and Steve.

The team was so drunk they could barely uphold their conversations with one another. Thats how bad it was, and it was embarrassing that you were especially drunk too. 

Soon after, Tony stood up from his side of the couch and stepped forward while raising both of his arms. He proposed a game of truth or dare, refuse to do it, you take a shot. Your lips curled up into a smirk, you honestly couldn’t tell if you were too drunk or not but you did know that you wanted to play. 

After hearing the majority of the team agree, Tony had prepared a line of shots, just enough for the first few people before starting off the game. 

“Truth or dare, Capsicle.” Tony stared at Steve, a smug smirk planted on his face as he awaits Steves answer.

“Truth.”

“Is it true that Bucky was the cause of those “mosquito bites” when you came out to breakfast the other day?”

Bucky shifted in his seat at the mention of his name which made you shake in laughter as he playfully smacks your arm, catching the eye of Natasha.

“Yes.” Steve admitted, his face flushing a deep color of red as he leans back into the couch, before regaining his composure and picking his victim. “Wanda, Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” She raised an eyebrow as a slight smirk plays on her face.

“I dare you to give somebody in this room a lapdance. EXCEPT Vision.” Making Wanda widen her eyes slightly as she turns her head to look at Vision, to which he nods in confirmation, letting her know its alright. 

Wanda stands from her seat, slightly surveying the area before her eyes land on Sam, she approaches you with a torturously slow walk as she pretends to walk to Sam, before snapping her head to you and finding her place on your lap. 

Your eyes widen in shock as Tony tells Friday to dim the lights and play a song. You didn’t know what song it was, you were hyper focused with Wanda on your lap. You thought she was going to pick Sam, why you?

Across from you sat Natasha, you noticed she was fuming in her seat as she watched Wanda’s little show. Her knuckles turned white due to her deathly grip on the couch while a scowl was firmly planted on her face. If Natasha had been put into a cartoon, she would have definitely had smoke coming out of her ears.

Natasha was on her last straw when it came to the dance, all she wanted to do was stand up and rip Wanda off of you and take you for herself. As soon as she brushed away those thoughts, Wanda’s dance had already ended. But what she didn’t see was you sighing in relief after she retreated to her seat. 

————♡————

You and the team got a few more rounds in and this round ended up having Natasha as the victim.

“Truth or dare, Natasha.” Clint said as he bites his cheek to compose himself for her answer.

“Dare, arrowboy.” She smirks as she turns her whole body to face Clint as he begins cackling.

“Swap clothes with the person you find most attractive in this room.” He grins, visibly proud at his dare.

Natasha stands wondering her next move as she looks towards Wanda, her best friend. “Just go for it, whats the worst that could happen.” Wanda says in her head while she subtly nods her head towards you. 

Natasha thought it over once more before she strutted straight to you, her hips swaying as she walked, practically hypnotizing you. She held out a hand in your direction, her eyes meeting yours as they held an unspoken gentleness.

You took her hand as you lifted yourself up off the couch, you never realized how drunk you were until you were on your feet. You were slightly swaying as you tried to regain your balance, which was quick with the help of Natasha as she supported you with her other hand wrapped around your waist.

As you regained your balance, you noticed that you still were holding hands with her but you don’t find it in yourself to point it out. You move to take Natasha to another room nearby, her following behind you close by.

Once you both stumbled into an empty room, that was when you sobered up a little, but Natasha seemed drunker than ever.

“Are you sure you still want to do the dare? I could get Wanda to take you to your room.” You whisper, as you look up to meet Natashas gaze. 

You saw something change in Natasha’s eyes, from a drunken look to what you think is hunger?

The emotions that were brewing up within Natasha during the lapdance burst out of her as she shoved you against the door of the room, trapping your body between her and the door. 

“Nat!” You yelp, not expecting a reaction like this from Natasha.

“Ya know, I didn’t really like how Wanda was just grinding up on you..” She husks, her face inching towards yours as your gazes to each other never faltered. You can feel her hand hovering over your waist, soon stopping to rest there on the curve of your hips.

“But you wouldn’t really mind that would you, huh?” She smirked as she buried her head into your neck and kissing it slightly, leaving back bright red lipstick marks, she had also left some hickeys unbeknownst to you.

You sigh, leaning into her touch unknowingly and running your hands through her fiery hair before you pull her up gently and crash your lips onto hers.  

Natasha’s lips were as soft like they looked, you could have honestly gotten obsessed with them right then and there. You deepened the kiss as one of your hands slid down to her waist to pull her impossibly closer.

You were so focused on Natasha’s lips kissing you that you didn’t feel a hard bulge pressing up against your upper thigh. But soon enough was when Natasha started getting slightly desperate, subtly grinding against you as you felt the bulge become more insistent.

That was when you pulled away, slightly concerned. “Are you sure, Nat? You’re drunker than I am.” You ask, your eyes flickering between hers and her lips. 

“Yes baby, I’m sure. Plus I was at the bar handing out drinks, not downing shots with you and Wanda.” She whispered, her attitude rising with the added mention of Wanda. Her teeth grazing the skin of your neck as she nips at it before she pulls away entirely, making you whine.

“Awe detka, so desperate already? Did you get so desperate because of Wanda?” She snarled, as she flips you around by your hips, pushing your face into the door as she kept a deathly grip on you.

“Mphm! No, Nat. It’s all you.” Your voice is muffled against the door as she sternly keeps you pinned there. Your hands flat on the door to keep you stabilized as Natasha starts grinding her clothed bulge on you.

“Damn right it is.” She mumbled as she gave a harsh slap to your ass making you jolt forward into the door as you yelp. Before she continues grinding up on you.

Soon enough, Natasha reaches over to your front and over to your breasts as she gave them a quick squeeze before she trailed her hands to the straps of your dress. You peeled your hands away from the door to allow Natasha to practically rip the dress off of you.

The sight of you braless with a lacy red thong might as well make Natasha drool as her hands went straight to your ass, massaging the flesh and pulling a quiet whimper from you.

With quick efficiency, her dress was off in the blink of an eye, her boxers had an insanely large tent forming, to which you could already assume was by you. 

She takes off her boxers as quickly as her dress as she positions herself behind you on the door. Leaning down, her hands find themselves on your waist as her lips find the shell of your ear, her cock just centimeters away from your dripping heat as her breasts press against your back.

“I can tell you want this as much as I do, detka. You’re practically leaking onto the floor.” She husks into your ear, she doesn’t wait for an answer as she stands up straight and slams her cock into your wet cunt making you press your cheek against the door as you moan out. 

Natasha begins to pound herself into you, the sound of skin slapping, your moans, and Natasha’s grunts echo the quiet room as she ruts into your tight cunt.

“You’re so fucking tight, detka. Я не могу насытиться тобой. (I can’t get enough of you.)”She growls as she lifts her hand from your waist to pull at your hair, pulling you up to meet her front, her breasts brushing against your back once more as your back completely arches. 

The new position allowed Natasha’s cock to thrust even deeper into your cunt, her thrusts were powerful, each movement drove you up the door trembling with pleasure.

She started pounding up into you at a more intense pace, making you moan in shock, the action making you push back against her cock. Her hand that wasn’t in your hair lifted from your hip, and came down on your ass once again, sending a hard slap to it as she massaged the flesh immediately after.

“Ah! Fuck!!” You cried, the pleasure was too much to even suppress your moans as you kept pushing your hips back to meet Natasha’s relentless pace. “Oh, please Nat!!” You scream as she drove into you.

“Nat, I’m gon..gonna cum, please can I cum.” You begged, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as Natasha fucked you dumb. 

“Go ahead and cum, baby.” 

To which you complied, your release had been intense but yet so full of pleasure. You trembled at reaching your climax, but to your surprise. Natasha kept rutting her cock into you as her thrusts got more and more sloppy as the seconds passed, her grunts turning into whines. 

“One more baby, just for me, c’mon. I know you’ve got another in you, please.” She pleaded as her thrusts grew more sloppier as she leaned her head down into your neck, placing delicate kisses on it as she tries to muffle her whimpers. 

You give her a loud moan in response, the overstimulation soon turning into overwhelming pleasure as you feel your second orgasm of the night building up in your lower belly. 

“Fuck..Im gonna cum detka. I can feel you clenching around me,” She babbled slightly, her red hair fluttering over the expanse of your back as she sets a faster pace for her relentless pounding, now nibbling on your neck to prevent her moans from spilling, her hand gliding in front of you as it frantically rubs at your clit.

“Fuck!!” “Cmon baby, cum, cum on my cock.” You and Natasha cried out as you reached your second climax of the night, your tight cunt clenching impossibly more around her shaft as your juices flow out of your pussy. 

The action made Natasha cum directly after you, the clenching of your soft velvety walls around her dick made her burst her seed into your womb as she let out a loud moan into the juncture of your neck. 

Natasha waited a minute before pulling out slowly, the overstimulation strong as she trembled slightly. She knew you were terribly overstimulated too with the way your legs were shaking. 

She watched as the both of your combined juices leak out of your cunt, a little bit of it landing on the floor as she fingered it back into you, making you moan once more. 

You rested your forehead against the door in front of you before slowly turning around to face Natasha, all while still leaning on the door. Natasha had always been a beautiful sight, especially now. 

Her hair was slightly tousled up, her cheeks were flushed a deep shade of red, her lips were smudged off of her lipstick, and her eyes held a deep softness and slight lust in them. You could always get lost in Natasha’s gorgeous eyes any day.

“Natasha, I just want to ask if this will mean anything to you. I wouldn’t want to have you like this with it not meaning anything.” You ask in a soft whisper, afraid of hearing the answer you dreaded the most.

Natasha saw the genuine sadness in your eyes as you whispered the question, the sight made her heart crack. It took her a second to respond as she gathered her words.

“I’ve loved you ever since Steve showed up with you in the living room. I always hoped that you returned those feelings I had for you. What happened between us right now, means everything to me, Y/n.” Natasha spoke softly, as if she were going to break a porcelain doll if she was any louder.

“I love you too, Nat. So much” You admit, walking up to Natasha and instantly closing the distance between you both. The kiss wasn’t lust filled at all, it was full of love and passion, something that you and Natasha always had for each other.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

teamwork

kinktober, day twenty-six

a/n: ........I mean, how could i not? it's a classic.

summary: “oh, naughty, naughty you,” Tony crossed his arms with a chuckle, “what were you hoping to get out of this, huh? Sneak in here and seduce the whole team? Is one just not enough for you?” the rest of the men snickered at his mocking quips. 

warnings: reader x pro football team!avengers (bf!steve rogers, bucky barnes, pietro maximoff, clint barton, sam wilson, tony stark, thor odinson), smut, slight dubcon, pro athlete au (even though i know the majority of them are american, i’m just gonna say that they play for a team somewhere else just so that i don’t have to say soccer, it hurts my soul), the old oops i accidentally walked into the locker room trope, gangbang, everyone's a hoe, established relationship, kissing, size kink, dirty talk, handjobs, oral, thigh riding, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, bukkake, spit kink, squirting, impact play, choking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

word count: 5400

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“You were amazing out there,” you purred between pecks as Steve’s firm thigh, slotted between your own, rubbed against your core, your short skirt flaring out over the shorts of his uniform. 

“Thank you,” he chuckled, his lips fluttering down your neck as he uttered, “you know, I think was even better with you in the audience,” nudging his leg more determinedly against you as you melted against the wall he had you pressed against, “like you brought me luck or something.”

Just then, as you felt yourself begin to soak through your underwear and mark your boyfriend’s uniform, someone from further down the hallway poked their head out of a door and shouted, “hey, Rogers!” reeling back from the crook of your neck with a peeved exhaled, Steve cast his glance in the individual's direction, “coach wants a word with you in his office.”

“Alright, thanks,” he nodded before turning his attention back to you, arms firm on either side of your head, cosily caging you in as he spoke, “I’ll be right back,” his leg reluctantly retracted from your warmth, “there is lounge down around the corner there that should be on the quiet side about now if you don’t wanna wait out here,” he offered a vague nod to his left before dipping down to near your lips one last time. 

Smile growing wide at his considerateness, you breathed, “okay,” but the kiss you thought he wanted to give to you never came as his nose just ghosted against your own, seemingly savouring the moment before you felt him shift and his finger disappeared below your skirt, “Steve, what are you-,” but the rest of your sentence never saw the light of day as, with a daring smirk on his lips, Steve swiftly kneeled down before you and snatched your underwear down past your knees, keeping his eyes on yours as he methodically manoeuvred your jelly like legs to steal the sodden garment completely. 

“I’ll come find you in a bit, yeah?” he placed a playful peck right above your knees before straightening back up. 

“Steve!” you hazily giggled as he began to disappear down the corridor. 

“10 minutes, 15 tops!” he called over his shoulder as he sauntered away from your stunned form, “then I’m claiming my prize!” 

With a breathy chuckle still billowing from your lips, you pulled out your phone and rounded the corner, scrolling through your options of temporary entertainment as you neared the room that you could supposedly wait in.

Eyes glued to the small screen in your hands, you didn’t even glance up as you reached the first door you approached, not assuming there were any other options, you simply pushed it open and strolled in. 

Fully expecting that you were nearing a couch or something soon, the room you’d blindly entered turned out to not be the lounge you’d thought it was, but instead, the team’s locker room as you swiftly walked straight into a broad and bare chest. 

“Wow, I’m sorry-,” your eyes tore away from your screen to finally discover where you were. Vision growing wide, you stared up at the athlete before you, his golden mane rustling from the collision, “I-I-…”

Blinking up at Thor, your own name even escaped your memory as you found yourself in the very last place you should have wandered into.

From off to the side, you heard the voice of Tony holler, “hey sweetheart, fans aren’t allowed in here,” before leaning closer to the sandy buzzcut beside him and muttering quietly, “I thought they said they had tightened security around here…”

With your feet still frozen to the floor, your mouth hung agape as your eyes glazed over the recognisable individuals throughout the room, all in various states of undress. As Thor’s towering form moved past, walking over to snatch up a towel, someone else dexterously took his place, “wait a second, I recognise you,” you blinked back at the guy who rarely left your boyfriend’s side, “you’re Cap’s new girl, aren’t you?”

“I-I-, yeah,” you stammered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to walk in here-”

“Oh, but you did,” Bucky teasingly took a step closer. 

“I was, uh, looking for the lounge, and I was just staring at my phone,” you swallowed thickly as someone out of the corner of your eye peeled off their shirt, “I’m so sorry, I'll get out,” but as you whirled around to bolt out of there, you just collided with another individual that had slyly slotted in between you and the only way out of here. 

“You’re cute,” you heard Bucky continue as you blinked up at Pietro, his athletic physique now completely blocking the exit, just as Thor's, the team's goalie, would do before the vast net during an intense game, “isn’t she cute, guys?”

Soft echoes of agreeance bounced off the walls before Pietro smiled down at you, “what’s your name, baby?” his accent sending a shiver straight down your spine. 

“Y/n…” you softly uttered, your heartbeat deafening in your ears, growing and rippling out from where it was still thumping from between your thighs.

“That’s a pretty name,” his eyes washed over your visage, licking it up like he was at a museum. 

“So, tell us, Y/n,” you spun back around at the sound of Bucky’s timbre, “did you really just not pay attention or did you perhaps walk in here on purpose?”

“No!” you squeaked, “I swear, I didn’t-”

“Because I think you were trying to catch a little glimpse,” he teasingly cut you off with a soft tilt of his head. 

“Oh, naughty, naughty you,” Tony crossed his arms with a chuckle, “what were you hoping to get out of this, huh? Sneak in here and seduce the whole team? Is one just not enough for you?” the rest of the men snickered at his mocking quips. 

“No, I wasn’t trying anything, I-,” the rest of your plea got suddenly swapped out with a shuttering gasp as the player sitting on the bench beside you had begun to ghost his hand against the goosebump-ridden flesh of your leg, sneakily twisting his position enough to catch a glimpse as his touch carelessly bushed against your short skirt, making it briefly fluff out enough for him to notice. 

“Hey,” Sam boomed to the rest of the team, “she’s not wearing any panties!”

“She’s not?” Thor turned his head to join the festivity entirely.

“Fuck,” you heard Clint curse gutturally, “you came to the game like that?”

From right beside him, Tony bit down on his smirk, “what a little fucking slut…” 

“No, it wasn’t-”

But before you could manage to convince them, Pietro pushed your form lightly and sent you directly into Bucky’s waiting arms. With your back arched like a ski slope, your short skirt rose up, covering virtually nothing, especially after you’d had your undergarments stolen, and granted the men behind you a pornographic view of the state Steve had left you in. 

Catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Bucky tilted your head up to catch your hazy eye, “why don’t you wait here with us?”

“I-…” you blinked back at him, feeling your chest rise and fall rapidly against his. 

“Rogers won’t mind,” he shook his head reassuringly, fingers shifting to gently caress you’re your heated cheek, “promise.”

“Yeah,” Pietro’s voice resonated vibrantly from behind you once more, “we always take good care of his girls…” 

Utterly spellbound by his ocean gaze, your head nodded fuzzily, “o-okay,” your breaths came in shaky as you spoke, “I guess if you say Steve wouldn’t mind, then I could probably just hang out in here for a bit till he gets back.”

“Great!” Sam clapped his hands together, the sudden noise causing you to jump out of the burly arms that held you. 

Leaning back against his locker, Clint then asked, “so did you enjoy the game?”

“Oh, sure,” with clumsy words flowing from your lips, your eyes traced Thor’s half-naked form as he crossed the room, “it was fun, I mean, you guys played really well, congrats on the win by the way.”

“Aw, thanks,” the man your gaze was locked upon sniggered as he settled in beside Tony, then leaned in to mutter in his ear just loud enough for you to catch, “Cap really wasn’t bluffing about her.”

“Dude, I know,” Tony harmonized lowly before raising his voice, “so, Y/n!” he slyly cleared his throat, “you never did tell us why you came to our game commando. Did you do that for us?”

“Oh, I-…” you averted your gaze, attempting to explain it with an airy laugh, “that wasn’t me, Steve kinda stole them a few minutes ago.”

Counting from behind you, Pietro challenged, “oh, Steve stole them, did he now?”

“Yeah,” you nodded bashfully. 

“And just why would he do such a thing?”

“I-…” you redirected your vision up towards the ceiling, “I think it’s easy enough to deduce what he was thinking.”

“Yeah, but I wanna hear you say it,” Pietro playfully stepped closer, tilting his head to catch your nervous gaze. 

“Come on, honey,” Sam’s tongue flickered out to glisten up his smirk, “don’t get shy on us now.”

Gnawing on your bottom lip, you then confessed with an exhale, “…we were gonna go celebrate…”

“Celebrate? Really?” Bucky’s gaze gleamed back at you in amusement, “well, that sounds fun, doesn’t it sound fun, guys?” he didn’t tear his eyes away from you as he countered to the others, their enthusiastic replies swiftly filling the thick air. Slowly leaning in close, he tugged a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, “you know what I think?” your head instantly shook, hypnotically granting him the answer to continue, “I think we deserve some celebrating as well, don’t you think? I mean, it wasn’t only Rogers out there on the field. Don’t we deserve a prize as well?”

As he cradled your face, all you could do was melt, “I-… I guess so…”

Closing the short distance, Bucky planted a feathery kiss upon your lips before tilting his head back ever so slightly to flash you a playful glance, “yeah?” his words were just above a whisper, “you wanna celebrate with us till Rogers gets back?”

With starry eyes, you blinked back up at the football player and hummed, utterly spellbound, “uh-huh,” before his lips pressed against yours once more, kissing you like there was no tomorrow. 

Letting go of your face, his silky touch casketed down your form like a waterfall, flutteringly roaming, up and down, each time carelessly catching your skirt and letting it gather up with his hungry movements. 

As you purred enchantedly against Bucky’s lips, Pietro behind you sank down to his knees, his intentions becoming clear as you began to feel soft pecks flutter across the backs of your thighs, his fingertips raking over your tingling skin in sloppy patterns. 

But as his caresses danced their way further north up your flesh, I didn’t take long before the greedy man dove head first into what he truly wanted to kiss, rendering you to tear away from Bucky’s lips with a dizzying pant, “oh my god,” and bury your face in his brawny chest. 

Lapping against your soppy folds, Pietro let go of your puffy pearl with a pop, briefly pulling back to share, “fuck, she tastes good.”

“Oh yeah?” Thor breathed from the sidelines. 

“Like fucking sunshine and rainbows,” he elaborated with gravelly desperation in his tone before latching onto your core once more. 

You barely noticed when people stepped closer, scarcely knowing whose hands were exploring your every inch, all you knew was how incredible they made you feel. 

Squeezing your boobs through your thin shirt, nipples pebbly and clear through the fabric, you felt Tony’s breath tickle your ear, “you mind taking this off for us, sweetheart?”

Eyes fluttering over your shoulder to find him, you simply raised your arms high above your head and let them yank your t-shirt off and merrily discover how you hadn’t bothered to put a bra on this morning. 

Glancing down, you watched as Clint cupped your softness in his wide palms, “damn, look at these fucking tits,” he gave them a little jiggle before dipping his head down low to place a few pecks along them. With the left of your small buds swiftly getting captured by his lips, a different hand took over palming your right as your fingers found Clint’s short hair, your nails scraping gently along his scalp, “you like that, hon?” he blinked up at you as he sucked, friskily nipping at your sensitive skin, “you like having these little nipples played with, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded hazily as someone reached out to pinch harshly the one not getting slobbered. 

“What else do you like, huh?” Bucky asked, his radiating form still pressed up against you. Capturing your chin, his thumb extended to brush over your lips, “you like having something in this pretty little mouth of yours?” poking it in, the pad of his finger softly ran across your tongue before your lips enclosed around him, your head blissfully bobbing as you sucked on his digit, “yeah? You wanna suck our cocks?” he retracted his digit, smearing saliva across your cheek as you offered him a foggy nod, “you think you can handle all of us at once?”

“I don’t know if I can,” you admitted with excitement bubbling in your belly, “I’ve never been with more than just one person at a time.”

“Oh no, really?” Tony rumbled playfully, “you’ve never been shared by more?” he palmed your tit roughly as you craned your neck to gaze at him, “what a fucking shame, truly, you deserve to be worshipped like a goddess.”

“Don’t you worry, darling,” Thor smirked, “we’ll help you,” before Pietro as the last one distanced himself, letting go of your petals with a pop, as you sank down to the floor.

You hadn’t really noticed before, but now that you were at the right eye level, it became impossible not to take in the team’s enthusiasm. Most of them were already touching themselves and some even had already whipped their cocks out, the vision causing your eyelids to flutter as your brain turned molten at the possibilities. 

“O-oh, wow,” your eyes grew to the size of plates as they tugged their shorts down, “I-I-,” lengths springing free all around you, “I don’t know where to start… wow…” a giggle suddenly began to bubble out of you as you tore your stare away from their erections to find their eyes, “h-hi.”

Grasping your hand in his, Bucky then wrapped your fingers around his girth, smiling down at you as he throbbed for you, “hey, baby.”

“You’ll all so-,” your dazed gaze flickered around at them all, “wow…”

Raising your other hand up, you enclosed it around Clint, testing out a gentle jerk to gauge their reactions. 

“Yeah, right back at ya,” Clint echoed your compliments as his mouth fell open, utterly spellbound by your tender efforts. 

Catching Pietro’s eye, you slowly leaned in and gave his tip a sweet kiss, smile wide as you then licked it a few times as if he was a melting ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day, “oh, shit,” he groaned, the grip he had around his base tightening, “open up for me, baby,” parting your lips, he then slowly rocked forward to fill up your mouth slightly, “yeah, just like that,” you felt his pulse against your tongue, “fuck…”

Head bopping gently at a leisurely pace, drooling blissfully around Pietro’s bulbous head, you shifted your hands, eyes fluttering in an attempt to locate the others, Sam and Thor then instead came to your rescue by seizing your flailing hands and bringing them to what you sought. 

When you pulled back from Pietro to catch your breath, his dick falling from your swollen lips with a crisp pop, you barely managed to suck in one whole breath before Tony’s hands seized either side of your face, bringing you close and sliding his cock in past your gasp. 

“Here you go,” he groaned as he rolled his hips, instantly going so deep that he tickled the back of your throat. With his fist tight around his base, he reluctantly let you come up for air, pulling back so swiftly as if the lack of your warmth pained him, “show me that tongue, angel,” chest heaving and eyes a daze, your mouth fell open and did as he requested, a hot string of drool promptly dripping from it and connecting to your exposed chest. Grabbing your chin and holding it tight, he leaned down and spit in your mouth, watching only a moment as it sparkled on your tongue before he tapped the weight of his girth against it, playing with it like a rain puddle before he ruthlessly thrust forward so deep that his heavy sack nuzzled against your chin and his tip disappeared deep down your throat, “there you go, honey,” fingers woven in your hair, he kept you still as he fucked your face, “there you go…” 

As Tony selfishly made you choke on his cock, Clint then knelt down beside you and reached under the short skirt that still clung to your hips. One hand still pumping himself, his other fingers found your core. 

“Fuck, she’s so wet,” he groaned, granting your aching clit a few circles before your pussy practically sucked one of his fingers in from how turned on you were, slipping in with no effect at all. Girth falling from your lips, you let out a shuttering gasp. Pressing his cheek against your own, Clint chuckled lowly, “you like that, baby?” lavishly caressing your walls ever so slowly, “that what you need?”

“Oh, god,” you panted, eyes fluttering shut, “yes!”

As he offered you another digit, he kept up a dizzying pattern of pumping his fingers into you, petting against a spot that made your pussy sing, only to retract them in order to rub your puffy pearl, repeating the dance till your legs trembled against the cool tile floor. 

“How about something else, huh?” Thor’s voice cut through your haze, “you wanna get that little pussy stretched out by something else?” your frame then jumped as Clint promptly landed a sharp slap against your soppy folds, forcing your eyes to snap open and your mind to race for an answer. 

Eyes training on Thor, a playful smirk bloomed on your lips, “what do you have in mind?” you asked innocently before you leaned in close and swiped your tongue over his leaking tip. 

Pumping his cock tightly in his fist, he tapped it against your beaming face and chuckled, “you really want me to spell it out for you?” to which you simply giggled under the weight of his length as a reply, one that swiftly got cut short and morphed into a gasp as Clint beside you plucked you up onto your wobbly feet. 

Working as the team that they were, they spun you around so that your backside pressed up against Thor. Hiking your skirt far enough up your waist to render it useless, the blonde athlete gazed down at your dripping mess, nuzzled against him and virtually drooling for him to split you open. 

“Look at that…” he briefly swiped his cock through your folds, parting them with his girth, “so pretty,” before his hips snapped forward and buried himself completely, “fuck…”

Eyes fluttering closed, you let out a shuttering moan as he held you there for a moment, savouring the euphoric sensation as your spine melted back against his chest. As Thor nuzzled you close, filling your cunt up so much that your knees threatened to give out, you felt stray hands find your tits, twisting and tweaking your nipples teasingly as some others grabbed your palms and guided them towards their cocks, enveloping their own around yours and fucking up into your touch. 

“How does she feel?” you heard Tony ask. 

Grip digging into your hips, Thor eased his length out, just halfway, before slamming it back inside, poking a place that pushed the air out of your lungs, “fucking incredible,” his lips ghosted against the shell of your ear. 

When a pair of hands found your face, cupping your flaming cheeks, your eyes dreamily blinked open once more to gaze back at Sam. Briefly pressing his lips against yours, it nearly gave you whiplash when they then manoeuvred your spine to bend, bowing down for your mouth to be aligned with Sam's excitement.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” he pumped his cock before you, smile growing wider as your soft tongue began to swipe across him, “don’t forget the nuts,” he lifted his length far enough out of your reach, groaning loudly as you began to drool all over his jewels as he wished, “that’s it, atta girl…”

Feeling Thor’s hands shift, one of them came to clench your skirt tightly, gathering the fabric on the small of your back and holding onto it as an anchor as the other one descended upon your ass, slapping away in quick succession, just hard enough for it to tingle deliciously. 

It all felt like a blur, like a dream. A beautiful and intoxicating dream. The kind of dream you’d never wanna wake from. 

After cumming all over Thor’s cock, in the hazy daze of it all, it took you a moment to realise that they had all switched out, trading places so that Pietro was now behind you, sliding in and out of your clenching cunt, and Clint was before you, sinking his dick so far down your throat that it left an imprint.

“This how you thought meeting the team would go, huh?” Bucky’s timbre cut through all of the moans, “this what you expected?” his touch was all over you, so hungry that you could barely keep track of it, “you expected us to pass you around and fuck your brains out?” gliding his palm down your spine, he then came to fixate on the little rosebud just shy north of where Pietro was having his fill, “has Cap fucked you here before?”

In between your sloppy pecks across Clint’s cock, you admitted, “a-a couple times.”

“A couple of times,” he chuckled darkly, “really?”

“What a dirty little girl you are, letting your boyfriend fuck you in the ass,” Clint suddenly got down to your level and plucked up your flustered face, bringing you close to his own, “say it, say that you’re a dirty girl.”

The words promptly flowed from you as if you were hypnotised, “I’m a dirty girl.”

Tapping your cheek lightly with his palm, he ordered, “again.”

“I’m a dirty girl.”

Slapping your features harsher this time, “one more time, what are you?”

“A-, fuck,” you whined, brows knitted as your pussy filled the room with soppy melodies of desire, “a dirty girl!

Just then, the door to the locker room burst open and in strolled none other than your boyfriend.

“Alright guys, listen up!” he called out before he truly took in the activities he’d just interrupted, “couch says that-,” but then when his gaze finally trained on your cockdrunk visage, the rest of his important message trailed off, “Y/n?” 

“Oh hey, Cap,” Bucky grinned, none of the players slowing down at the appearance of their leader, “thought we’d keep your girl entertained while you were gone.” 

Closing the door behind him, Steve took a slow step forward and sighed, “guys, seriously?” his glare found each and every one of them, “I was gonna talk to her first,” stride leisurely, he moved closer to you, peeling his shirt off as he did so. Kneeling down before you, getting on your level, a warm smile bloomed upon his lips as his eyes locked with your hazy ones, “hey baby.”

“S-Steve,” you whimpered, wanting so badly to explain, but unable to do anything other than melt even further. 

“How are you doing, huh?” the back of his knuckles softly ghosted down your cheek as his gentle tone washed over you like a warm cup of tea, “you still wanna tell me how well I played today or are you too busy telling the rest of the team?” 

“No, please don’t go,” you grabbed onto his tender touch, “please!”

Straightening back up to his full height, he pulled his shorts down and let his cock spring free, slapping his toned abdomen with its enthusiasm. 

“You mind?” he offered Pietro a nod before the man complied, easing out, and passing you to Steve’s open arms. Scooping you up, his strong grip curved around your bottom entirely. Pressing your lips to his, you tangled your arms around his neck as he nudged your weeping core against his girth, your cunt already creaming and painting his cock a milky shade.

Carrying you in his arms as if it took no effort at all, Steve raised you up further, aligning you just so before dropping you back down again and letting you sink down onto his dick, the sensation causing a pornographic mewl to escape both of your lips as you let the fevered kiss crumble in order to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“Fucking hell, that’s it,” Steve groaned, lifting you up and down in his grip like a precious little cocksleeve, “that what you needed, huh? You needed me to fuck your pretty little hole?” palming your bottom roughly, he them landed a few swift slaps across it causing even more electricity to course throughout you with the sparks of pleasurable pain, “after the team had their fill, you still needed to feel me?” eyes squeezed shut, your drool smeared against his pulse as you felt him extend a finger and rub a few circles over your other hole, all of the other previous activities already slickening it up enough to make his dance molten and his initiative effortless when he plugged it up, “have me fuck you in front of all of them, give them a good view of what a beautiful mess they’ve made of you… Open your eyes, baby,” hazy vision blinking open, the side of your head stayed plastered against your boyfriend’s broad shoulder as your eyes locked on the spectators, “look at them, look at what you do to them, look at how much they want you.”

Trembling in his arms, so violently that you convulsed off his cock completely, it wasn’t till Sam excitedly pointed out, “oh, she’s a squirter!” that you noticed the gushing waterfall your high had showered Steve with.

“Damn right she is,” Steve smiled proudly, realigning his tender hold as he pressed a soft peck to your temple, “my girl is full of many talents,” with long strides, he then walked up to the bench in the middle of the room and slowly laid down upon it, securely holding your molten form close as he shifted, your body completely plastered on top of his as he cheekily spoke, “in fact, Buck, come over here, help me stuff her a bit more, yeah?” 

Glance swiftly washing over Tony, Bucky asked, “hey, do you still have that-“ 

“Yep, of course,” Tony didn’t need any more to understand, hastily rummaging through his gym bag before tossing his teammate a small bottle of lube, “here!” 

After liberally slickening himself up, you perked up a bit as you felt Bucky’s skin press against your own, your back arching up against his chest as he teased you, nudging his tip against your farmost entrance and rendering your form to yet again give into the ecstasy and recover in a flash. 

But as soon as he confidently sank in at slow and steady pace, a gasp escaped your lungs, “oh my god!”

“What?” Steve smirked beneath you, catching your wild eyes as he teased, “what is it, babe? What’s he doing?”

Mouth agape and brows tightly knitted, you uttered, “he’s fucking my ass.”

“Who’s fucking your ass?” Steve’s mockingly sweet tone washed over you.

“Bucky,” you whimpered as he eased back out till just the essence of him remained. 

“Why don’t you look back at him and say thank you?”

Twisting your head, you found his gaze and hazily managed, “thank you, Bucky,” the sensation of him sinking back in and splitting you apart made it nearly impossible to complete the task. 

“Thank you, what?” Steve fished. 

“Thank you for filling up my ass, Bucky.”

Capturing your face, Bucky cradled it in his hands as he smiled, “you’re so fucking welcome,” before dipping down to steal a sweet kiss, “any time, doll, any time…” 

With your nose nuzzled against Bucky’s, your boyfriend’s low voice once more found your ears, “hey baby? Why don’t you slide my cock back in, huh? Stretch that little pussy out as well?”

Reaching down to seize it, you hummed fuzzily, “mhm,” before slipping it in, your eyes promptly fluttering shut at the ecstasy. 

Their thrusts were slow but immensely intense, with a roughness hiding behind the pace that made you tremble between them. 

“Fucking hell, if you don’t marry this girl, Cap,” you felt Bucky’s boorish fingers wrap around your delicate throat, “one of us will.”

Fighting to peel your blissful eyes open, you first caught sight of Steve’s adoring features beneath you, gazing between your fuzzy expression and your stretched-out holes as if you were some mystical goddesses. But then your vision glanced across the crowd of professional football players, all fixated on you and nobody else, stroking their cocks to the exact pace your holes got filled. 

“I-I-, fuck-…” you whimpered as felt yourself once again near the edge.

“What, are you gonna cum again, sweetheart?” Steve moaned, rolling his hips up into you in a synchronized rhythm, “I can feel you-, christ, you clench down so fucking tight when you’re all stuffed like this,” he snaked his fingers down to strum your aching and overly sensitive clit, your frame nearly bucking away from him as he bullied the painfully puffy pearl. 

“It’s too much, fuck-, I don’t think I can take it anymore,” you heard yourself cry, feeling as if you might actually pass out. 

“No, no, baby, you can, you can,” your boyfriend declared determinedly, not slowing down one bit at the sight of your pout, “you can take it, you can cum with the both of us inside of you.”

“B-but it’s so much, I-”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got you, don’t we, Buck?”

“Right here, doll,” Bucky’s warm palm slid down your front and grasped your left tit, his whole arm curving over you like a seatbelt holding you upright and close to him, “just fall and we’ll catch you.”

And with that, your pour pussy poured out everything it had, tears spewing from your eyes at the intensity.

“Aah!” 

Convulsing, you nearly tumbled to the tile below, but they both held you close, safely in their grasp as well as far down on their cocks as your gushing core clambered around them and nearly expelled them entirely. 

Maybe you fell asleep, for even a second, because that’s what it felt like when you blinked your eyes open once more to find your drowsy frame situated on the floor, the lingering aid from a few of the men to get you relocated still remaining as you blinked up at all of them.

Had it truly been that many cocks that had in one way or another been inside of you today?

Smiling up at all seven of them from your position on your wobbly knees, you let your mouth fall open and your tongue roll out once last time as they furiously jerked themselves to completion before you, the grin on your face only growing wider as their cum began to paint your skin.

Twitching and panting, the majority still let their touch linger needily as they floated back down to earth. 

Broad chest heaving with every deep breath, “babe,” Steve bit down on his smirk as he gazed down at the decorated state you were now in, “say thank you to the guys for taking such good care of you.” 

Making your gaze go on a round to catch each and every one of their doting stares, you uttered breathlessly, “thank you.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[chxrryhansen]

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Cherry’s Cevans Series Rec List

thought i’d make a list of all the best cevans (characters) series i have read!! i have lots more to add and will continue to update this list🫶🏻 i will also create a one shot fic rec list in the near future💖💘💞

Preying On You Tonight - @evansbby

“Steve is the cocky, brash and domineering alpha who makes your life at university a living hell every day. You’re the complete opposite - quiet, meek and reserved. You’re convinced Steve hates you, but what happens when he finds out you have a boyfriend? (a/b/o dynamics)”

Wicked Games - @evansbby

Ari is the campus fuckboy and you’re his little plaything. But he’s telling the truth when he says he’s going to make you his girlfriend soon, right?

What A World - @onsunnyside

S.H.I.E.L.D. had a lot of secrets, you just never expected one of them to be an actual person—a blue-eyed giant, wild manbeast at that. [tarzan!Steve Rogers x doctor!reader, nomad!steve, size difference]

Just Because I Won’t Die For You, Doesn’t Mean I Won’t Kill For You - @dbnightingale24

Lloyd Hansen is just another job for you. Your last job. However, when he decides that he wants to take you for a ride and have a good time, well...how’s a girl supposed to say no?

Closer To Heaven And Closer To You - @georgiapeach30513

When your boyfriend, Ransom wants to take a trip back home to the ranch to meet your family, you are unsure.  Knowing that a rodeo is in town could only mean your ex, Frank Adler, was most likely riding for eight seconds, still trying to beat his best friend, Steve Rogers.  All you wanted was a nice time, not old memories bothering your brain.

Just Like The Caged Bird - @georgiapeach30513

You are a widow who moves back to her husband's hometown after selling your in Georgia home.  Moving in above your brother in law's garage.  Sharing the space with his friend Bucky Barnes, but your other brother-in-law Andy causes problems, along with your overprotective brothers.

Pretty Petals - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

You go on a self-improvement retreat, but not all is as it seems. (multi-character)

His Koala Bear - @kinanabinks

you and steve have been best friends since you were 5. for the longest time, he has wanted so much more from you. and it's getting harder for him to stop himself from taking it.

Belong Here - @angrythingstarlight

Steve has been looking for his perfect girl and suddenly there you are stuck in this dingy restaurant. You don't belong here, you belong with him.

Finding Home - @navybrat817

Steve finds a home with you. (lumberjack Au)

Their Doll - @kaiparker-avengerssmut

y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

No Better Than Beast’s - @lokislastlove

You’re an animal rights activist who sets out to put an end to animal testing… but it’s a risky mission. (Dark!Steve Rogers)

Doppelgänger - @boxofbonesfic

Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why. (Dark!Ransom Drysdale + Dark!Lloyd Hansen)

Million Dollar Man - @chrisevansgoodgirl

your relationship with ransom and his insane family.

Brooklyn’s Sweetheart - @spacesnail3000

Bucky and Steve had always been meant to keep her safe and happy. As far as anyone else was concerned, that was their sole reason for being alive. Unfortunately, the things that kept her safe were not always the things that kept her happy. Lately, she was making it pretty damn hard for them to compromise.

Let It Snow - @spacesnail3000

She was his Omega, and Steve had a plan. She would love him. He knew she would.

Sweet Renegade - @cevansbrat0007

A new arrival in town leads to an unexpected complication in the form of a sexy as sin Bounty Hunter named Ari Levinson.

Evergreen, Evermore - @babyjakes

loving husbands jake and ari had always believed they were all each other could ever want or need. but one unusual summer, when their world is turned upside-down by an uncanny girl from down the street, they find that having someone to love, nurture, and care for together is the missing piece that finally completes their perfect family and lives.

A Huckleberry Is Nothing Without His Hummingbird - @dbnightingale24

Lloyd and Y/N have been amicably(ish) divorced for four years. However, when earth shattering trauma come their way, will they lean into what they truly want, or will the flames from past traumas still burn too bright?

Civil war- Brooklyn - @saiyanprincessswanie

Ten years ago the Readers world was turned upside down when her father was killed by Hydras Brock Rumlow. She believes the loves of her life Steve Rogers and James “Bucky” Barnes were also killed while trying to avenge her fathers death. Reader is now working for the FBI on a task force that is meant to take down Hydra. She volunteers to go undercover to take down Hydra. In doing so she not only puts herself in the cross hairs with Rumlow but she gets to meet the mystery men causing Hydra issues. Who are the Captain and Winter Soldier? What lengths will you go through to uncover the truth and seek revenge?

The Boston Brute - @time-for-a-lullaby

When you graduated from Northeastern University, you had your sights set on the West Coast. And then you were offered a position with the Boston Bruins Athletic Training Department. And then you met Chris. A 6′3″, ruggedly handsome hockey player dead set on making your life a living hell by pushing every button and getting on every nerve. Despite your obvious disdain for each other and the ‘No Fraternization’ clause in your employee contract, you’re drawn together in a passionate, fiery love affair that seems to burn everything in its wake. 

Planet Evans Universe - @astranva

In which Chris was a nervous mess when he met his A+ list celebrity crush, highest-paid, and the most iconic actress, you, at Vanity Fair’s 2014 after party. (Following the life of overprotective!dad!Chris x wife!actress!reader!)

Don’t Speak - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (Dark!Andy Barber)

Cat and Mouse - @queen-of-the-avengers

You’re called the Vixen because you were HYDRA’s favorite creation. You’re very hard to catch, and once you are, it’s even harder to keep you.

Let’s Ride - @starryevermore

You’re a single mom and have just moved into a new town. You have no interest in looking for love, but the funny thing about love is, it waits for no one. (Biker!Ari Levinson)

Out Of The Darkness - @sunshinexsin

Sienna Jons has lived in Boston for three years now after graduating and is running her own salon in the city. With a small group of friends sticking by her side, she's content with her life. Enter Chris Evans, a known and feared mob boss in Boston’s underground crime world. Coming out of a long relationship ended in a bitter divorce, Chris isn’t looking for anything serious until Sienna crosses his path. Trying to win her over proves difficult for the man who seemingly has it all and Sienna is not willing to be with someone who causes such destruction in his own hometown. Sienna soon finds herself entangled in the crazy, violent world of the mob and struggles to find a way to either live with the hardened man Chris has always been or get away from him before her own life spirals out of control.

Murder He Wrote - @wiypt-writes

You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween. (Dark!Ransom Drysdale)

Poison Paradise - @the-iceni-bitch

Robert Pronge was sure he could settle for a fake domestic life as long as he could go on killing. Little did he know that you could give him everything he needed.

A Bun In The Oven - @witchywithwhiskey

the leaves are changing—green fading into golden yellow, burnt orange and radiant red—and the days are getting shorter and colder as autumn settles in. it's the perfect time of year for baked goods, fall foliage, book stores, and to curl up next to (and get under) our favorite man with a plan, steve rogers

Wilford’s Demands - @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Wilford places you in Curtis’ care so he can impregnate you.

In The Balance - @goodgirlofglory

One unsuspecting evening, the stranger Steve Rogers appears bloodied and in need of aid at your doorstep. You immediately catch his eye, and he forces himself upon you within the hour. Several months of repeated visits from him results in your pregnancy, and the night you find out, Steve intereceps you on your way to an abortion clinic and kidnaps you to his mansion. Will you carry the child to term? Will you buckle under the pressure of capitivity? Will you escape the grasp Steve has on you, or will you submit to it and your own, conflicted desires?

Drowning Siren - @rogerswifesblog

The Avengers found an old abandoned HYDRA base, that had been cleared after HYDRAs existence had been exposed. At least they thought it was cleared. It was the biggest experimental lab they had ever seen, the closest base to the ocean, full with creatures-dead creatures. Some of them laid still on tables, stripped with metal cuffs, open and already rotting. It was an awful smell. But then they heard something beautiful. A melody, a beautiful voice singing unbelievably gentle sounds. Walking into the building full with ocean creatures, they had no idea their life was about to change.

Vampire Kings Religion - @marvelcriminalhoe

In a world where fantasy beings roam every corner, the humans are on the bottom. Looked at as weak and disgraceful. The vampires are the opposite. They rule the land, and all of the creatures that take part of it. the current ruler, King Steven, has ruled for more than 150 years, alone. After many nights, and long talks with his most trusted hands, he comes to the long awaited decision that he will finally, take a wife. All female creatures, are to be evaluated, so he can find his perfect match. Of course, no one expects for him to choose a human. Especially not one from the church. Especially not the daughter, of the leader, of the church. The same church that detests the mythical creatures, wishing for nothing more than for them to perish in fire. How could this union possibly end well?

Ride And Prejudice - @pagesoflauren

A take on Pride & Prejudice, certain circumstances in your life have led you to take refuge and work in a farm village, particularly on the ranch owned by Steve Rogers. He doesn’t take kindly to you, having bad perceptions about city folk. Your only reaction to that is the one you deem acceptable: get annoyed at every little thing he does whilst doing your best to annoy him and still keep your job.

Love On The Brain - @howardpotts

You’re just a student, living her normal daily life in New York. One night changes everything, without you even knowing. Steve Rogers slowly introduces you to his world full of money, drugs and voilence. But are you able to handle what he has to offer? (MobBoss!Steve Rogers)

Flamingo King - @onsunnyside

The sun is brutal this summer, especially in Flamingo Trailer Park, the land of big hearts and cheap tricks, you’ve been here for years unlike your “new” neighbour, Ari. He’s older, bigger, and intimidating, the local rockstar, and you, well, aren’t you just the sweetest girl in the whole damn city?

Make It A December To Remember - @imyourbratzdoll

AGE AND SIZE DIFFERENCE IS ADDED TO ALL! SANTA AND THE GRINCH ARE LARGER THAN THE READER! THE ELVES ARE THE SIZE OF HER PALM! (a chris evans xmas universe)

This Love Is Bad - @wildestdreamsblog

You were just trying to escape your past, and Ari was trying to chase his future.

Nowhere To Run - @sagechanoafterdark

On the last day that Steve spent in your small town before heading off to basic training for the army, he made sure it was one you wouldn’t ever forget. Years later when he appears in your town he seems like a changed man in more ways than one, but you’re ready to show him that you’ve never forgotten that day. (Dark!Steve Rogers+ Bucky Barnes)

Nice To Be Kneaded - @rogersideup

Almost every news station in the country was covering the chase for the missing superheroes post-raft-escape following the Civil War. Steve Rogers face had been plastered on the cover of every news paper, fliers stapled to street lamps, posted on bulletin boards in what felt like every coffee shop in the country. It had been just a few long months shy of a year, just long enough to grow out his hair and beard to make himself as unrecognizable as he could manage. Though he was still the poster boy of disorder within the states, he found himself in the scanty town of Greenwood in the house right next to yours.

Forever And Ever More - @syntheticavenger

Ransom Drysdale may be Boston’s most eligible Alpha who has his eyes set on you. With his inheritance hanging in the balance, he won’t take no for an answer, whether you like him or not.

Hackers Heart - @bakugousaysdie

steve rogers has always been america’s golden boy, leading earth’s mightiest heroes and serving his country. you have always been bad with boundaries, a little too curious, and an absolute disruption. you are an absolute menace,so it’s only right you fell in love with the most adored man in the country.

Arranged - @time-for-a-lullaby

Living in this life, you’ve never gotten to have much say in anything. What you wear, who you hang out with, and now, who you marry and you’re dreading your arranged marriage to the Italian mob boss, Chris Evans. Expecting to suffer through a life of abuse while being kept under lock and key, you’re pleasantly surprised when Chris is nothing like you expected. He’s the most feared man on the East Coast, only brought to his knees by one thing and one thing only. You.

[sytoran]

home is where the heart is ★ n.r

— 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ;; 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 & 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇

in which your married life with natasha romanoff is depicted through this comedy-drama series. with your dream job, three kids, and a plethora of friends, each day is blissful but all the more chaotic and unpredictable. (and ultimately, very horny.)

pairing ★ sub!wife!natasha x beefy!butch!reader

chapter summary ★ twitter's sole purpose is for you to thirst over your wife, the beach is a good place to spend time with your kids, and ogle at your wife in a bathing suit, but not a great a place to have sex. (lesson learnt).

warnings ★ (MINORS DNI) - explicit content, hard stuff: beach sex, doggy style, cunnilingus, daddy kink, SO MUCH thirsting

word count ★ 4.0k (get fed gremlins)

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

*****

In tandem with Tony Stark’s spontaneity, Steve Rogers’ unending enthusiasm, and the fact that you privately owned close to twenty beach resorts in New York alone, the lot of you and your other friends had a beach outing planned for that Sunday.

After the astronomically long time it took to get your kids dressed, beach toys packed, picnic dinner prepared, and everything loaded into the car, five happy L/N-Romanoffs finally kickstart their journey to the Westview Surfers’ Beach.

“SAND!” Emilia roars maniacally, once the five of you step foot onto the sandy shore. She’s gone like the ocean breeze, sprinting into the distance, grains of sand flying everywhere.

“Sea! Sea! Sea!” Emilio is equally as excited, already by the tide of the brilliantly blue ocean, following its ebb and flow with scampering feet and delighted cries. 

“Careful, Emilio!” Marina says, holding his hand, preventing her over excited brother from falling over. You can see the way she laughs along, kicking up water with her slippers.

Behind your eager children, you swing you and Natasha’s interlocked hands as you casually stroll along the beach, giving her a sweet smile. 

The sand that crunched beneath your feet was earthen and dry, such a gentle hue of gold, almost as grounding as the bright smile your wife returned.

“You look heavenly,” you murmur, bringing up the underside of your wife’s palm to press a gentle kiss to it. She flushes prettily, the sundress she’s adorning doing wonders to her skin tone and curves.

Natasha returns the softness, pressing into your side as you wrap a firm arm around her waist, hand cupping the curve of her motherly hips.

“Oy, lovebirds!”

At the sound of a distinctly familiar voice, you and Natasha spin around with bemused looks. From a distance, you can see Tony with a flamingo floatie around his hips, waving comically.

Next to him, the regular gang is sprawled across three separate picnic mats, conveniently hidden from the sun under several large beach umbrellas. 

Pepper is fixing up Tony’s floatie, to which Carol and Valkyrie snicker at from afar. Thor is asleep on the mats, taking up more than half the area. Laura is busy reading, with Clint probably gone to find seashells for the sandcastle Bucky and Steve are constructing. The kids make a long human chain from the shore to the sandcastle, scooping up buckets of water to make a trench.

“Aunty Y/N! Aunty Nat!” Nathaniel squeals, dropping his bucket, running over and leaping into your arms.

“What’s up, you little rascal?” you ask, laughing as the youngest Barton giggles. Natasha ruffles his head, waving at Lila. 

Morgan, being the same age as Emilia and Emilio, is already chatting excitedly with them and kicking up a loud racket. Marina joins Cooper in attaining bucketfuls of seawater.

“What’s up, my favourite lesbians?” Tony calls out to you and Natasha with outstretched arms, comically ignorant to the death-glare Valkyrie shoots him. 

Natasha rolls her eyes in faux annoyance, strolling past him and brightening up animatedly to chat with the ladies. You pat Tony’s back sympathetically. 

Your attention flits to an impressively large sandcastle with a sculpture of a mermaid on top, hand-crafted by Steve and Bucky. Leaning closer to Tony, you whisper, “Why does the mermaid kinda look like you?”

Leaving him to splutter at his intentionally uncanny resemblance to the mermaid, with a seashell bra and an elegant tail, you look up to see Clint coming back with his arms full of seashells. 

“Hi, Y/N!” He greets distractedly. In the midst of his frantic haste, Clint’s foot gets caught on a stray rock —

And the rest is a scene out of a comedy movie. 

The seashells go flying out of his arms, scattering onto the picnic mat and spraying sand everywhere, Clint loses his balance and flies forward, outstretched arms knock into the sandcastle, and everyone watches in horror as Steve and Bucky’s great unfinished symphony comes crumbling down, leaving only the head of Tony’s mermaid untouched.

A quiet hush falls. 

Bucky and Steve’s faces are morphed into disbelief and heartbreak, and Clint trembles in fear with sand in his mouth. Tony shudders at his beheaded mermaid, the ladies have their hands over their mouths, and Natasha fights battles in order not to burst out laughing. Thor sleeps unperturbed, and even the kids' racket has died down.

“Well,” you announce, breaking the stunned silence. “Who wants to go surfing?”

*****

As Natasha lazes in a beach chair, away from the gory scene of Steve and Bucky dunking Clint in the seawater, she watches you with a budding fire in her belly. 

Standing on the sand so casually, you have your hefty surfboard tucked under one arm, and Emilio in your other. You’re speaking to him with a roguish grin, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt flapping in the wind, tinted sunglasses pushed up to muss up your perfectly tousled hair. 

“You ready to ride the waves, bub?” 

“Yeah! I’m ready!”

Your wife swallows, thinking she was ready to ride something else.

Natasha crosses her legs unsubtly. It was honestly unfair, how indifferently attractive you were, like it was a state of being instead of a practised art. 

Perhaps it was her love for you and the longevity of your marriage that warped her perception of sexiness, but when you were casually strolling on the beach with that chiselled abdomen on display, who was she to be blamed?

“Y/N!” Natasha calls, sitting up slightly. There’s a devious little idea blooming in the back of her mind, and she feels like taking the bait, just for today.

You look up at your wife’s beckoning, and smile widely at her. Setting Emilio down gingerly and calling him a “little rascal”, you jog over to Natasha easily. 

When you flick your hair back, it glints in the sunlight, and so does the sheen of sweat under your sports bra, defining the cutting edges of your abdomen. Natasha has the criminal urge to rip off your swimming trunks there and then.

Despite your obliviousness, Natasha is more than well-aware of the stares you’re getting from young women and married women alike, momentarily disregarding their boyfriends and husbands to gawk at you.

“Damn, look at that fine specimen!”

“Ryan, why don’t you work out more?”

“There goes my heterosexuality.”

You get feasted upon hungry eyes like a slab of beef, likened to your beefiness, but it only makes Natasha’s possessiveness skyrocket.

“Hey, honey,” you say, settling on a low and inviting tone that has your wife blushing. You crouch down next to her beach chair, holding her hand in a sweet gesture. “What’s up?” 

You’re close to her, so close, and she can feel the heat radiating off you, and your distinct scent, and the overwhelming senses of want and need are washing over Natasha like those tidal waves in the ocean.

But well, Natasha knew more than a few ways to rile you up too.

“I think I want to go surfing too,” she lies through her teeth, having no inclination to partake in the sport. Natasha fakes a pout all too well, knowing it’s one of your many weaknesses. “But the sun’s really hot out there, so I need some help with the sunscreen.” 

It wasn’t like she’d have needed it, anyway. Just like that and you’re sold, ever the gentleman and the golden retriever, digging for the sunscreen in the duffel bag.

“Of course, honey,” you reply readily. “Is it the Banana Boat sunscreen, or is that the kids’ one? Oh wait, we have the SPF 50 one, I think that’s—”

Words trail off comically when you look back up at Natasha, gradually dying down completely.

Your wife has conveniently slid off her outer layer of a sheer white blouse, leaving her in just a matching two-piece set of an azure bathing suit. The top piece is held together with thin pieces of string, accentuating her chest in a tight cradle. The lack of coverage shows off the dip of her hips and her soft curves.

Coherent thoughts in your mindwires get severed as Natasha plays with the string on her bottom piece, nearly flashing you as the material slides down ever so slightly. Your throat dries up as her fingers trail a path over her tummy and cleavage. She plays with another bundle of string that keeps her chest barely covered, and the irresistible urge rises within you to undo it.

“My eyes are up here, y’know,” Natasha murmurs, laying on her side and looking at you through lowered lashes.

“I know where they are,” you answer hoarsely, gaze still fixated on your wife’s enticing cleavage.

The sheer amount of bare skin that Natasha is showing off has your remaining fragments of sanity falling to pieces. There’s no point even trying to hide the tent in your pants, poking uncomfortably against the fabric.

“Gonna help me lather sunscreen?” Natasha asks with a silky lilt to her voice, turning over on the beach chair. 

You groan out loud when you see the curve of your wife’s ass on display, her rounded bottom barely covered by a few measly pieces of material, all held together by flimsy strings and nothing else.

“Mhm,” you respond brainlessly, uncapping the bottle and rubbing your hands with a bountiful amount of the moisture, clearly in excess.

You begin applying your wife’s sunscreen with overzealous eagerness and desire. Large hands spread unnecessarily widely as you gain coverage over the soft skin of her back, trailing up and down and smearing the white moisture over her soft skin.

“Oh, that feels nice,” Natasha says airily, a dainty little sound that causes your cock to twitch in your shorts. 

The line down the middle of Natasha’s back is emphasised as she tenses and relaxes it. Like clockwork, you begin massaging your wife’s back to release the tension in her muscles.

“Y/N…” The breathy moan she lets out is pure heaven, dragged out from the depths of her throat, then lifting to a higher tone that washes over you in a sea of goosebumps.

Of course, your faux masseuse skillset is just a simple ploy to grope and knead at Natasha. Fat spills through your fingers as you spread your hands across her torso, as Natasha whines softly.

It wouldn’t take a genius to realise that the heat building between the two of you was not just due to the heatwaves under the beating, unforgiving sun.

Your frighteningly quickly-growing arousal only heightens when Natasha feels that her back is done and flips over. Face-to-face with her hefty mounds, a round belly, and the blown pupils of viridescent eyes — you lose the plot completely. 

Deft hands fly to your wife’s ample assets, squeezing her hips in sinful amounts and staking your claim. “You’re so pretty, baby,” you mumble, face buried into the crook of her neck, subtly mouthing at her neck.

“Mhm,” Natasha whines in agreement, but it turns into a gasp as your fingers slip underneath the material of her bra, plucking at hardened nipples in merciless haste.

You press down onto her, flat tongue and sharp teeth, licking a broad stripe up your wife’s exposed collarbone to the tender column of her neck.

Before you can taint clear skin with raging-purple bruises, you’re pulled away with a firm grip on the back of your neck. You look back up to see Natasha gazing at you sternly. 

“Let’s try not to perpetuate public sex while you are the owner of this place, with all our friends present, and the kids building sandcastles no less than ten feet away.”

Much to your disgruntlement, these factors weigh in heavily and overpower your body’s built-in “pretty-wife-need-to-worship” mechanic. Now, your shorts fill up a lot more space than need be, your shaft pressing hot and tight against your left leg, clearly visible.

You grumble, hands still clammy with sunblock, the ghost of Natasha’s warmth still interlaced between each of your fingers. “You’re a meanie,” you sulk, lust-driven adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Natasha looks at you with a wicked smile. “And you’re too susceptible, darling. Now, where’s my flask? I plan on staying plenty hydrated before watching you rough it out against the waves.”

Clearly put-off by not being able to fuck your wife in your public beach resort, you flip off a little kid who openly ogles at Natasha’s ass, much to your wife’s horror.

*****

“I’M NOT BUILT FOR THIS!” Tony screams, arms flailing, as he rides a shallow wave. His firmly implanted foot adds too much weight on the front of his neon yellow surfboard, and the over-eager man overturns comically as the current rushes.

You laugh out loud, Hawaiian shirt flapping in the wind, surfing past Tony in a smooth motion. “Stick to the flamingo floatie, little guy!”

Valkyrie barely dodges the splash Tony creates, nearly falling off her own board. “Fuck off, you cunt!” she yells, full-chested and deadly focused on the tide. From a distance in the shallower part of the ocean, a reprimanding “Language!” can be heard.

Natasha’s wading in the shallower waters with Laura, while Thor had opted to sun tan on the beach while watching the kids.

As a large wave approaches, Natasha watches with intent. Upon your wife’s new found attention, you mentally prepare yourself, determined to impress her, and perhaps get revenge for her prior ploy.

You manoeuvre deftly, putting weight on your back foot to stabilise as you approach the wave head-on. Three… two… one. You add even more weight on your back foot as you go around the back turn while gaining speed, garnering energy like a coiled spring.

As the wave reaches its full height, broad and steep, your calves release with impact, propelling up the barrel of the wave like a spring. The surfboard moves in effortless motion, anchored by your back foot, navigated by your right.  

The second you reach the lip of the wave, you find the sweet spot to execute the backside tail slide. You rotate your wide-set shoulders, swiftly switching the pressure to your front foot. 

Your surfboard glides off the surface for a split-second, turning mid-air — there’s a camera-worthy frame of damp hair, stray droplets, and focused eyes.

You slide back down at an oblique angle with purpose and precision, like a scene out of a movie, locking eyes with Natasha as the wave crashes behind you.

“Damn, Y/N!” Carol hoots, looking amazed as you surf back to the rest of the gang.

“That was crazy,” Steve adds, resting belly-down onto the surfboard, strikingly adorable for a hulking man.

“Gotta admit, that was pretty cool,” Tony comments, his head bobbing above the surface of the water and his surfboard nowhere to be found.

You laugh along with them, attempting to explain the technical jargon of how you did it. But as much as you appreciated your friends’ enthusiasm, there was ultimately only one person you sought validation from. 

“Hi,” you say to Natasha with a stupid smile, sitting on your surfboard, having escaped the rest. 

“That was very sexy of you,” your wife wastes no time in stating, as if she wasn’t five millimetres away from flashing you and killing you with her sexiness. 

Natasha is stuck on the image of your damp hair flying into place like a scene out of a superhero movie, unbuttoned shirt flailing up to expose your defined back and abdomen, concentration flashing in your eyes.

“Mhm,” you hum lowly. Fire burns low in your belly as you ogle your wife in her bathing suit, pulling her closer by the underside of her thighs.

In a moment of indiscretion, your left hand slips upwards and undoes the knot on Natasha’s bathing suit, letting the material slip from your fingers.

“Y/N!” Though blocked from view of the others as it was underwater, Natasha lets out a breathy gasp and presses into you. Her cunt, already soaked before, gets even wetter at the intrusion of seawater.

“Can I claim my prize?” you ask heavily, hot pants against your wife’s ear, driving her wild with the way your fingers slip through her folds to encroach on her entrance.

In no time at all, two of your fingers are at Natasha’s cunt, feeling slick even underwater, and you push in—

“Group picture!” Steve yells from a distance, as you and your wife effectively leap apart in the water, the heated moment dissipated into thin air. 

But it lingers, the arousal, swimming in the back of your consciousness as you smile for a group selfie. Bucky’s arm is around you but you thank the heavens for hiding your erection under the water.

You can tell Natasha feels the same, eyes locking on you even after Steve successfully takes the group picture. (After many attempts.)

“I’m gonna go check on the kids,” Natasha finally says, gesturing back as if she was going to walk back to shore. She’s expectant, waiting.

“And I think I’m gonna go check with her!” you add, chuckling awkwardly, beckoning backwards with your thumbs.

“Okay,” Steve says disbelievingly, eyes glimmering with knowing and just a little amusement. Tony is much less subtle in his sniggering, and Clint looks horrified at the prospect of doing it at the beach.

Tony claps you on the back as you walk past. “Use protection,” he whispers, and you fumble out a haphazard response. 

*****

Turns out, you and Natasha don’t even make it to a completely secluded area before you’re half-undressed and panting. 

And maybe that’s half the thrill, hidden in a secluded beach cave, with regular people roaming around just outside. You’re pressed skin-to-skin with each other and tuning out everything else.

You groan as you snap the strings of Natasha’s bathing suit off, finally, finally. Teardrop tits bounce in place, shaking with the impact of how hard you jerk against your wife, unbearably uncomfortable in the constraints of your boxers.

Natasha takes mercy on you, helping you to tug down your Calvin Clein briefs, watching with heady arousal as your shaft slaps against your six-pack, red and raw and leaking.

“Hurry up,” Natasha whines, bending over and clutching at a stray rock, ass in the air as she exposes her leaking cunt to you. 

“Fuck, baby,” you groan, grabbing onto her ass and slapping it just because you can. You sink deep into your wife, warmth and relief enveloping you as you bury yourself inside her.

The first thrust is like heaven, feeling the pulse and push of Natasha’s walls as she accommodates to take your size, stretching to a familiar extent because you’d made a nest in there for yourself. 

The second thrust takes you there, an insurgent amount of slick coating your cock, flooding the path you proceed to pummel into. “Natty,” you whine, groping at her ass and pulling it closer to you, hilt-deep with no signs of stopping.

“Mhm, daddy,” Natasha moans, walls fluttering around you as you pull out, trying to stop your escape. But then you thrust forward, again, warm and full and deep, and your wife wails beneath you.

Natasha lets this velvet sound from her throat, silky and coated in honey as she breathes reinvigorated life into your arousal.

“Fuck,” you growl, rutting your hips with more rigour. Natasha whines, wrists suspended behind her back with one of your hands as you have your way with her.

“Baby I’m gonna come,” you gasp, virility cloaking the way your abdomen presses up against Natasha, left hand encircling her neck to bring your hot mouth up to hers.

You’re hardly embarrassed for how fast you’re barrelling towards climax, as Natasha is in much more of the same position. She’s panting your name, clutching at the rocks with hard sand digging into her feet. Your cock nudges and prods into her sweet spots effortlessly, the result of countless sex experiences.

“M-me too,” she responds breathily, breaking off into a whine as you press heated, open-mouthed kisses along the line of her back, tasting the salt and sweat on your tongue.

Pleasure blossoms in your lower torso, creeping up the base of your shaft and working its way upwards. Hot arousal overflows from its constraints, and your teeth sinks into your bottom lip as you come, quick and hot and messy.

“Oh!” Natasha moans, high-pitched and sensitive, as you pluck at her ruby-hard nipples. It only takes a few more thrusts for her to reach release, dripping down your cock and her thighs.

“Mhm, nhn—” As your wife raises in pitch and volume, you stuff three fingers into her open mouth, giving her something to suck on and remain quiet. You continue with gentle thrusts, feeling thick white liquid flow out the side of Natasha’s ruined cunt.

“Needa taste you,” you suddenly grunt, hips bumping into Natasha’s ass. She babbles her agreement, despite being half-conscious in a state of post-orgasmic pleasure. 

Easily, you lift Natasha and set her down onto the sandy shore of the beach cave, where the tide is low and washes over your feet gently.

It’s a change of pace, a gradual end to your savage ravaging, slow and sensual, where the water meets the sand. You lower yourself between Natasha’s spread thighs, lips slightly parted and dripping with need.

Natasha swallows audibly, right hand twisting into your tousled hair, looking at you through hooded eyes and lowered lashes. 

Words are left unspoken between the two of you, the tension speaking for itself, as you retain eye contact while lowering your mouth onto Natasha’s pulsing cunt.

You take your last breath of the fresh sea salt air and summer breeze before drowning in unbridled desire. As if making out passionately, you eat your wife out, switching between licking and sucking.

Poetry is written between the lines — the lilt of Natasha’s hitched breath, the crease of her thighs where your fingertips drag across, the shallow water that wades over your feet in a cool decrescendo.

Your head dips down once more, warm and wet, and the sun melts into the horizon, glazing golden and liquid orange. 

With your tongue lodged fully inside your wife’s pussy, marking your inability to breathe, and wide hands spread firmly over Natasha’s thighs, the two of you converge in saintly devotion, hushed worship falling from her lips.

“Please, just like that, please, daddy, please.”

Just like that, and the ocean swallows you whole, taking you under Natasha’s hold inescapably. Your name is said in a breathless cry, lilting and pronounced, and you shudder between her clenched thighs.

“Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“I think there’s ocean water up my asshole.”

“Yeah, I got some sand up my vagina too.”

*****

and that's chapter two of 'hiwthi'! how did yall feel about the introduction of the rest of the cast? i personally enjoyed writing the build-up scenes the most. (sunscreen and surfing!) and for those keen on expanding the family dynamic, i'll be building on that in the next chapter!

reblog or i will take 292857192 years to post the next part

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

[heytheredelulu]

Marvel Fanfiction Masterlist

| Smut ❤️‍🔥 | SFW Spicy 🌶️ | Angst ❤️‍🩹 | Fluff ✨ |

Imagines

Bucky Barnes x Reader 💙

Little Devil 🌶️

You’re tempting him to sin.

Ruin Me 🌶️

Say less.

Bucky @ Ulta 🌶️✨

You dragged him with you.

Five Senses ❤️‍🩹✨

You walk him through the grounding method.

I Gotta Take This 🌶️

Bucky wants to make an excuse to slip out of the mission briefing.

Simple

Bucky Barnes enjoys the simple things in life.

To Have and to Hold and to Fuck Whenever I Want

You really think a little bit of blood is going to keep your husband from having you?

Steve Rogers x Reader ❤️

Like Sin 🌶️❤️‍🩹

Your possessive boyfriend accuses you of cheating on him with his best friend- and you decide to rile him up.

Loki x Reader 💚

Yearn for You 🌶️✨

You’ve been friends since childhood, after all this time could he truly feel nothing for you?

Winter Rose Drabbles

The Winter Rose, an ex HYDRA assassin trauma bonded with Bucky Barnes in the aftermath of their deconditioning. They’re walking the fine line of love and friendship and both of them are too afraid to cross it.

Bucky Barnes x Winter Rose 🥀

Wounds ❤️‍🩹✨

Wash Over Me ✨

Fuck the Line 🌶️❤️‍🩹

One Shots

Bucky Barnes x Reader 💙

Temptation ❤️‍🔥

You text your boyfriend a nude selfie while he’s working and now he can’t stop thinking about it.

Good Girl ❤️‍🔥

So close you could taste it- but only if you begged him well enough.

Wants and Needs ❤️‍🔥

You come home late from girls night knowing Bucky will still be up. You want need him and you’re finally going to let him know.

Little Bookworm ❤️‍🔥

Your boyfriend can’t think of anything more adorable than watching you read. One night while you’re in the shower he picks up the book you left on the nightstand: “Haunting Adeline by H.D. Carlton” and thumbs through it, very quickly realizing just what kind of books his sweet little bookworm is really into.

Watch Me ❤️‍🔥

Anon request: “could you do something enemies/rivals where bucky accidentally finds out that you have a mirror kink during a training session?”

Unbreakable ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥

You’ve always wanted to be a mother but your husband is too tormented by his past to believe he could ever be a good father. For so long you’ve accepted that it will never be in the cards for you- after all, it’s only a small price to pay to continue to live the life you’ve built with the man you love. But what happens when you finally admit that you want what he refuses to give you? Will you push him away with your confession or will you finally make him realize that he’s not the man he believes himself to be?

Unbreakable- The After Years ✨🌶️

The conclusion to your story.

Stucky x Reader 💙❤️

Untitled - In progress ❤️‍🔥

Multipart fics

Bucky Barnes x Reader 💙

Ready to Comply Part One ❤️‍🔥

Tony Stark's shy, curvy intern finds herself fighting for her life when the quiet and reserved ex-assassin she's been pining after for nearly a year has been activated by HYDRA and given the order to kill her to prevent the completion of the new tech she's been developing alongside Tony Stark and Stark Industries.

Ready to Comply Part Two ❤️‍🔥

The second installment of Ready to Comply.

Ready to Comply Part Three - In progress ❤️‍🔥

Teaser

Current Taglist (Taglist is open):

@littleone2001 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe @ihavetwoholesforareason @km-ffluv @shortnloud @mrs-katelyn-barnes @somnorvos @22rhianna2006 @fanfictionreaderfan @misshale21 @angelbaby99 @deans-spinster-witch @kezibear @acornacreacure @wintrsoldrluvr @terry2227

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[frostironfudge]

I Need You To Listen - Steve Rogers

Summary: For @the-slumberparty 's Week 3 Something New Challenge, I went with the medium mode - sex pollen but with exes to lovers. This took alot of work I ended up rewriting it entirely, I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 7.4k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, angst, smut, fluff, sex pollen, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, love bites, steve rogers dirty talking (this man), swearing, nipple play, past is in italics, sort of a post civil war rewrite so we're going completely off canon

Main Masterlist || AO3

Fate works in the most hilarious of ways, a stubbed toe over here and a broken heart still being nursed over there. 

Tony Stark stands in front of your cell, staring at you through the glass. You don’t hold back your tears from him. Disappointment colours his features. 

Broken pieces of trust lay scattered on the floor. The damage by him was done. Leaving you to bear the brunt. Leaving you to walk on the jagged edges of the broken family. 

A family that shared jokes, laughed, drank and protected each other. 

Won together. 

Lost together. 

In the past few days died together. 

“How are you holding up?” His arc reactor gleams as he takes a seat on the stool. Unzipping the jacket he wears his arm in a sling. You close your eyes, more tears fall at the memory of the fight. An involuntary shiver as the chiling bite of the cold manifests itself from your memory. 

The cell isn’t uncomfortable. There is a cot in the corner, the bathroom has a door. The sterile scent of the cleaning agent stopped giving you a headache hours ago. 

“Why are you asking me?” You look at him, he should be mad, he should yell, call you a traitor. 

“Contrary to what you all think and did to me, I trust you.” He shrugs, left eye twitching, he rolls his shoulder. 

“How is the arm?” Your gaze falls to it. 

“Seen better days. You know, heart troubles.” He looks at Wanda’s cell, “Kid, Vis is asking about you.” 

She looks up at him, “Is Rhodes alright?” 

Tony presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head. 

Wanda looks down at her hands. 

“He tore us apart. That Baron Zemo. I know you have a lot to learn, alot to grieve. The accords may be dissolved. I’m working on it. At SI we’re  preparing the bail documents.” He informs you all. 

Sam scoffs, “What about Cap and Barnes?” 

“James is in recovery as per my last conversation with T’Challa. Where Cap and Nat are I do not know nor does he.” Tony gazes back at you. 

“I trusted him.” Is all you can say to him. You stare at your palms, you couldn’t get the blood off. 

“I know, I did too.” 

“Tony.” Your lips quiver another sob at the heartbreak Steve left you with to deal. All alone. 

Bucky fights Tony, you don’t want to see your best friend hurt. The man who took you under his wing when you joined in, your steps halted by the blonde haired man who harbours your heart. 

“Sign the accords.” Steve orders, you gape at him. 

“Steve, do you fucking realise? We’re here because I didn’t sign them because I am siding with you?” You almost yell. The tempreture drops as the snow cascades into the facility from the now broken windows. 

Bucky lands on the floor, a pained groan, his arm blasted off. He kneels, eyes widened at the implication. At the man he hurt irreparablely being the one to take away one of the curses HYDRA bestowed upon him. 

“Shit!” Your eyes move to Tony, slowly he rises from the floor. The suit broken in several places. 

“Y/N, you need to listen. You cannot go rogue with me.” 

“Steve,” You push his arm away you had to intervene. 

“It was good while it lasted.” He says and everything turns to static. 

“Wh-what?” 

“Look, I, we had a good run but I know your stance on the accords you’re just with me for the sole reason we’re together.” Steve says to you. 

“Are you serious right now?” Anger courses through you, your grip on your pistol tightens. 

“It's not even the accords. I, I didn’t think we would make it beyond this month. Look, I have to think about Bucky. Its all of this, it doesn’t, priorities.” He lunges over to defend Bucky leaving you defenceless. Your ears ringing, you watch as they fight, you can’t hear any of the clangs the groans. 

You stand there dumbfounded. 

As Steve throws Tony down the beam reflects off of his shield and hits you on the shoulder you’re thrown against the wall. Bucky meets your eyes, at least he seems apologetic.  

Tony tries to get up to help you, “Rogers, she’s hurt—,” The shield slams against the arc reactor. 

“I don’t care.” He says so easily.

You pant as the pain increases, both the burn and sting of his words as well as the physical injuries manifesting across you. 

Steve helps Bucky up, you try to push yourself to your knees, crawling to Tony while keeping your arm close to your body. 

Bucky looks back at you, his eyes convey his remorse. Tony breathes hard, you blink back tears at the glance Steve doesn’t spare towards you. 

Eight months down the drain.

The morning kisses, cuddles, the random sketches of you he left as gifts all lose their importance. Remembrance only causes pain. 

“Mr. Stark, you need to leave.” 

Tony sighs, “I’ll visit, or I’ll have you guys out before that. Work some arrangement.” 

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” You look at his arm and back at his face. 

He gives you one of those sad smiles of his, the one where he pretends it's just another day, another common thing. 

“Aren’t you foolish to trust us again?” Sam questions him as Tony passes by his cell. 

“I just have to do my job. It’s the people who have to trust us.” Tony turns to face Sam. 

“So the people trust the missile maker millionaire Stark?” Sam knows the jab is stinging, Tony hated 

that about the company’s past. 

The rift was ever present, your friend looks towards you. 

“Y/N, let him know not to insult me, I’m a billionaire.” He grabs his glasses and moves away. 

You resist the urge to laugh, everyone would resort to their coping mechanisms. You’d have to bide your time here. Usually getting black out drunk was how you solved your own problems. 

True to his word Tony has you all released on various conditions. You, Scott and Wanda are released together. 

When you reach the tower it isn’t surprising that there was a break in, you’d scoff that Steve didn’t come to break you out but he made his decision in Siberia. 

The faint scent of his cologne lingers in your room. Hints of Patchouli and Bergamot. You stare at the box on your bed. 

Opening it reveals a burner phone. 

“I got a burner too, one number loaded upon it.” Tony stands at the door holding a glass of scotch for himself and your favourite Vodka in a bottle. 

“Surprised he bothered.” You open the phone and it chimes an unread text upon it. 

“I didn’t get that.” He observes, you take the bottle from him. 

Opening the text. 

SGR: I want to talk to you. Please let me explain. 

You laugh bitterly, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip. At least you can blame these tears on the alcohol. 

“Are you going to? Call him I mean.” Tony settles on your desk chair. 

“Nope.” You set your bottle down after three more sips, grabbing the edges of the opened flip phone you press. The phone snaps from its hinges and you place it back down in the box, “Did you track it?” 

“Fake return address.” He twirls the ice in his drink. 

The two of you bask in the silence. Drinking in tandem and out of sync. 

“Were you going to sign the Accords?” You ask after a while staring at the setting sun. 

“Nope,” He reaches for your bottle, pouring himself a peg, “I was having them redrafted. Steve only had to agree for them to shut up. My draft would have gotten approved.” 

“So confident.” You raise your brows. 

“Comes with the job title.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Do you think anyone will trust anyone?” You tap the bottle neck. 

Steve’s laughter reverberates against your chest. He reaches up to cup your face. 

“Why is it so amusing?” You ask, not meeting his eyes. 

“Because it is, Poppet. I wouldn’t break your heart.” He assures yet again. 

You gnaw at your bottom lip trust was difficult to come by for you. 

“You want to know why?” He whispers, making you meet his gaze. His nose brushing against your own. 

“Because I have your heart and it's what is keeping me alive.” 

You lean closer, pressing your lips to his, Steve kisses you back. Hands pulling you closer. You feel his smile between the kisses and you begin to retract knowing what he was upto but it’s too late. 

Steve tickles your sides and laughter blubbers from your chest. He grins, cheeks flushed as you press against him. The thin sheet hides nothing from the way you feel. 

“I love you.” He says, you stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“I loved him with everything in me.” You blubber out, tears falling down. 

Tony sits next to you, your head rests on his good shoulder, “I know you did. It's a hard road ahead, kid. Not an undoable one.” 

“I hate him.” You declare, “I hate him, he just, how could he be so selfish?” 

“Sometimes we all are, he is in the wrong. He didn’t exactly reciprocate the trust.” Tony sighs, you look up at him. 

“I’m sorry about your parents.” You watch him give you those sad smiles, he flexes and extends the fingers of his left hand. 

“He could have told me, I trusted him enough that he could.” He whispers then shakes his head. 

“Steve Rogers is an asshole.” You declare raising your bottle to his assholery. Then you giggle. 

“You just thought of the word assholery didn’t you?” Tony giggles as well. 

Both of you burst out laughing. 

“Hey Tone?” You ask mid laughter. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for being here, also can I get a box?”

“Sure.” He stands, FRIDAY has the box led by one of his tinkered bots to the room. 

“I need to check on Rhodey.” He says, “I’m a call away okay?” 

You nod, he leaves. The box stays on your bed and then you stare at the sketches hung around your room. With a delicateness that Steve didn’t spare towards you, you pack up the papers. Sealing the box with plastic wrap and head down to the safety deposit lockers. 

Your steps are misjudged and you drop your box of trinkets several times. The stupid ceramic mug from that couples pottery class probably shattered. 

You giggle thinking how it resembles your heart. 

Locking the box leaves you in silence. Your room is void of all things Steve except the one shirt he gave you on your first mission together where the two of you fell into the muddled waters that left the two of you in need to change out of clothes. 

The shirt smells like him, you curl up with it on your pillow. 

“This is the last time you gave your heart away.” You tell yourself. 

“This is the last time you cry over him.” You promise yourself. 

Eight months pass and you all sit in the conference room. The accords are abolished. They reinstate Natasha, Sharon, James, Sam and him. Tony holds his flip phone. Resorting to texting rather than speaking to him. 

A reply comes when you all are back at the tower. They’d be there tomorrow. Rooms are prepared with favourite foods stocked up. You had requested your room be shifted away to another level. 

Heart ache didn’t manifest beyond those few nights. 

Your walls that Steve Rogers broke down were built back stronger. Impenetrable. His shirt was placed in his room by you a month into getting over him. 

You don’t pass by the floor, you’re a level above. Thankfully the elevators divide the levels they service and you won’t ever be on the same floor as him. 

The night is restless despite your indifference to all of them. They were the family you chose and yet you were abandoned by them. 

Dreams are but a loop of memories you have buried. 

After your morning laps you head to Tony’s lab. 

“They will be dropping in at SHIELD first. Fury wants to discuss some things and then they come back here.” He stifles a yawn. 

“You need caffeine my friend.” You hold up the coffees, “Luckily I come bearing gifts.”

“I love you.” He whispers gingerly while taking the cup. 

“Are you talking to the coffee or me?” You ask, taking a sip of your own. 

“I can love both.” He defends, whispering to the coffee he loves it more. 

You throw one of his discarded paper balls on him. It doesn’t phase him. 

“Are you sure you want to come along?” He asks for the umpteenth time on the drive to SHIELD. 

“Tony, I will leave you behind if you ask me again.” You glare at him. 

“I think you will be fine.” Vision assures a gentle smile on his face and he laces his fingers with Wanda. She smiles at him, her own mind filled with thoughts. 

“See we’ll be okay.” You declare. 

Minutes later you’re seated on one side of the conference room. Tony on the first seat, you on the second. Vision opts to stand behind Wanda as she sits. 

Fury sits at the head of the table. The door opens and Natasha, Sam and Steve step into the room. A thick silence settles over. You look at each of them and then back at Fury. 

Natasha’s hair is shorter and blond, Sam seems to have gotten leaner. Steve was sporting a beard and longer hair. 

You wondered if the post break up look was something you should have gone for, maybe dyed your hair blue.

“Well, as you know you all have been reinstated. The Avengers operate without any Accords binding them but they must be mindful of their poweress and the possible damage they may cause. A country has full discretion to forbid the Avengers from subduing threats that may lead them there and you must honour that no matter the cost.” Fury gazes at you all. 

“What if they need help?” Steve questions, you scoff. 

Cold blues flash to you. You roll your eyes. 

“The dissolution of the Accords was done keeping this one rule in mind. I suggest you make peace with it. You will not be able to save everyone from damage and hurt, it is better than causing it.” Tony adds. 

Steve’s jaw tightens. He nods. 

“Now since this is done and dusted. Official missions may resume.” Fury places down a manila folder. 

“Official?” Sam questions, raising a brow. 

“Agent Y/L/N here was liasoning with us for recon purposes. Kept under wraps. We have identified HYRA bases. Once the plans are sanctioned you all will be back on duty.” Nick sighs, “I suggest you all train together to get a sense of your skill sets and moves again.” 

No one nods. 

Nick shakes his head leaving the room. 

“Your old rooms have been cleaned at the tower. Access is via FRIDAY, food is stocked. Layout’s almost the same. Few changes here and there. Oh and there are new succulents in the living room.” Tony fiddles with the folder. 

“We can conduct a meeting about these missions tonight or tomorrow. You all settle in, there is a car outside and your vehicles are in pristine condition at the garage.” He informs them further. 

“No welcome back party?” Nat muses, you laugh. 

“I drank all the liquor so unfortunately no parties.” You deadpan. 

Nat and Sam stare at you. 

“It has been a difficult few months. I understand everyone will take time to return to a semblance of previous normalcy.” Vision’s words are both reassuring but also farfetched. 

Wanda grasps his hand and gives it a squeeze. 

Steve’s brows furrow in worry. He observes you trying to find any hints but you give him none. You learned to school yourself. An agent well versed in hiding her intent, emotions and aim. Your skillset is what brought you to the team and it is what you have. It's what you could trust. 

Sam nods, “Well best we head back.” 

“Yes we could use some sleep.” Natasha says, you flash her a smile. 

“Yep, well I have a few things to discuss with Fury.” You push away from the table first. Tony follows your lead. 

“Should you not include us in the conversation?” Steve says in his authoritative baritone. 

“Unfortunately, Captain, it isn’t an Avengers matter but a personal one. Which you aren’t entitled to know.” You spit back. 

His mouth opens again to speak. 

Tony beats him to it, “Where’s our Manchurian candidate?” 

“Bucky’s in the UK for a bit, after Wakanda we were there for a while. He stayed back for personal reasons.” Steve explains and you slip out. 

Steve stares at your room door, knocking on it yet again. Two weeks since his return and you had avoided him in every capacity.

He had worked up the courage to knock on your door today. But there was no response as it was over the past fifteen minutes. He requests FRIDAY to check in and all the AI says is that you’re fine.

You had gotten back from a mission yesterday morning. You had to have been resting. 

“Why won’t she open her door then?” He mutters, pressing his forehead to your door, “Poppet, I just want to speak to you. Please.”

“Captain.” Vision greets floating out of Wanda’s room.

“Vision.” He acknowledges.

“Why are you knocking on an empty room’s door?” Vision tilts his head. 

Steve blinks at him, “This is Y/N’s room.” he states as if obvious.

“It isn’t, she switched rooms about three months ago.” Vision says

Before Steve can ask anything further, Wanda opens her door, “Vis.” She gestures with her hand for him to return.

“Wanda.” He walks to her this time.

“FRIDAY, where is Y/N’s new room?” Steve questions walking to the elevators. 

“She’s on the twenty-fifth floor.” The AI responds, he switches to the other elevator. 

“Captain, you will have to go to the ground floor to switch elevators.” FRIDAY informs him. 

Steve sighs moving back in front of the original elevator. It stops at every single floor; he almost misses the elevator as you’re getting on, luckily a Stark Industries employee holds the door for him. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. Looking away. 

“I want to talk.” He says over the all too silent but crowded elevator. 

Everyone looks at him except you. They follow his gaze to you. 

“I don’t.” You answer while staring at the numbers. 

“Poppet.” He says and you shoot him a glare before looking away again. 

People trickle in and out. 

Steve’s gaze is trained upon you. He nods politely at those greeting him but his gaze nerver strays from you. 

You look into your phone pulling up a forgotten game loaded into the device. Anything. Any stupid thing to avoid him. 

Finally it's just the two of you. 

The automated air freshener hisses filling the space with the scent of lavender. 

“Poppet I just want to explain—,” Steve steps closer, his hand outstretched. 

“No. I don’t fucking want to hear a word.” You seethe, you move forward pressing the button to your floor if it makes you reach quicker. 

“Poppet.” He grabs your hand, turning you towards him. 

“Y/N. Use my damn name.” You spit out, finally meeting his eyes. 

There is a tick in his jaw, he nods, “Y/N. Just five minutes. I know I don’t deserve it—,”

“You don’t deserve to even ask for a minute of my time. You never saw us work beyond that month correct? Well guess what? We don’t.” You push at his chest, he doesn’t budge. 

“I lied. I said those things so you wouldn’t follow. I could not have you living rogue with me.” Steve admits, you stare at him. 

“You lied?” You repeat. 

“I didn’t want to break things off but that was the only way I could ensure you wouldn’t follow behind me. It was dangerous. Poppet—Y/N,” he corrects, “I told you your heart kept me alive, I love you—,” 

Steve’s head snaps to the side, cheek turning red at the impact of your slap. You breathe hard, eyes tearing up. 

“That was not for you to fucking decide, you do not get to come back here and make your sorry excuses for being a horrible human being. Betraying my trust. Leaving me and your friend injured. You picked Bucky over us. You picked Bucky over me and I understand I would pick him too if I were you. But I would not fucking lie or leave my girlfriend and best friend behind injured horribly. You’re welcome back to the compound Steve. Even back to your glorious Captain America title. However,” 

The doors open to your floor, you step out. 

“I don’t know how you say you’re alive because I took my fucking heart back from your undeserving self. I don’t care if you lied, I don’t care if it was all fun and games. I don't care about you. I don’t want to care about you. You are a teammate because I am forced to consider you one. I don’t need to listen to you to provide you closure or a second chance. You fucking liar!” 

“Poppet,” Steve reaches for you again, you take off running to your door. 

“FRIDAY, deny access. Override only with Tony.” You order, the locks on your doors bolt and Steve keeps knocking and pleading. 

He sinks to his knees outside your door apologising over and over. 

Natasha is pinned to the floor by Wanda as the latter grins triumphantly. Natasha praises her and they break apart. You take Wanda’s place and Sam takes Natasha’s place. 

Mixed training was now mandatory. 

You had almost burned Nick Fury with your glare. Steve hadn’t shown up to any, in fact he hardly was in the same room as you. 

Sam goes full offence, you block the blows. Defending yourself you had worked hard over the time away from official duties. 

Minutes pass by, neither of you yields. Panting you stare at Sam waiting for an opening to take him down. 

“Come on, that's all you got, little spy?” Sam teases, you laugh. 

“You wish birdy.” You stick your tongue out childishly. Wanda and Nat laugh. 

“Come on Wilson.” Nat prompts, “We’re bored here.” 

“Alright,” Sam moves, pulling a fake. You catch it a moment too late, as he’s about to tackle you to the ground you turn. Tugging on his arm as Sam’s eyes widen. 

The momentum thrown off both of you land on your sides, recovering swiftly he’s pinned to the ground by you. 

You grin at him. 

“How's that birdy?” You laugh at his irritation. Sam rolls his eyes. 

“Y/N.” 

Everyone’s heads snap to the door, Steve and Tony stand there. 

You help Sam up. Sam keeps an arm around your shoulder. Steve’s eyes linger and his fists clench. 

Sam takes his arm away. 

You roll your eyes, they land on Tony as he bites his cheek, oh this can’t be good you deem. 

“Wheels up in an hour for Rogers and you.” He delivers the news. 

“Sam, Nat, Vis and Wanda are needed to take on a bigger base with Tony.” Steve looks at you, “Fury’s orders before you try to whine your way out if it.” 

You glare at him, “Alright.” 

An hour later you’re on the jet with Steve. He doesn’t talk. The last conversation between the two of you was enough. 

“We won’t be splitting up.” Steve informs you. You nod, studying the layout. 

You frown in recognition. 

“I was here on recon. This is supposed to be a dead base.” You look up at him. 

“Fury said they detected activity.” He looks back ahead. 

“Hopefully it's just random people looking for shelter.” You look back at the plans. 

Steve hums, observing you again. Wishing it would be like before where the two of you would be holding hands. 

Cobwebs litter the walls, plaster cracked. The scent of something decaying permeates through the space. 

Walking into the HYDRA base is carefully crafted, Steve leads with his shield. You keep a double check on the back trail. Something was not sitting right with you. 

The hallway diverges, you stand next to Steve, “Left side first then we can go right.” You whisper. 

He nods, “Stay close, I don’t know why something feels wrong.”

You don’t verbalise your own feelings, following in his footsteps. 

The hallway leads to an abandoned lab, the computers torn down and broken apart. Steve relaxes his defensive stance looking around the area. 

You move carefully through the edge of the room, “Something should be of value here.” 

“I don’t think there is anything.” Steve declares, “Let's clear the other pathway.”

You give another once over and then follow him back down the path. 

Your boot catches on the uneven flooring, “Shit!” You whisper yell as you fall forward. 

Steve turns, breaking your fall. You land against his chest and his arm encircles your waist. For a moment that echoes a broken promise of eternity he holds you close to him. 

Steve sneaks a moment he lost over a stupid decision. He takes what crumbs he’s given by fate. 

Your palm is against his chest, your head tucked against the crook of his neck. 

Why can't you move away?

Why do you want more of him? 

Why do you miss him? 

He hurt you. 

He lied. 

He hurt you. 

You break the eternity Steve was living as you pull away, silence stretches between the two of you as you head down the other hallway. 

It's empty yet again, you shake your head at the waste of time. Steve steps closer to the vials on the shelf. The liquid in them gleams a certain way. 

You hear a pneumatic hiss from your left. You turn quietly making your way to the wall. 

Steve studies the shelf again. There was no dust on it. No pattern on it. These were fresh vials. Then his eyes widened, “Y/N don’t!” 

You turn to face him when the hiss is louder and the slits of the vent open. A dust like substance pours over floating around you. 

A coughing fit grips you, you place your hand against the wall to steady yourself the gun falls as you clutch your chest wheezing. 

Steve pads over to you, trying to rub your back to ease the coughing fit. He asks FRIDAY to scan the micro dust to see if it is anything dangerous. 

The coughing fit subsides over a few minutes, your breathing shallow. You look up at Steve blinking away the tears. He cups your cheek.

“Are you okay? Do you feel anything?” He questions, gaze running over every aspect of you. Glove clad large palms moving over your form. You nod, but then your stomach cramps. 

“What is it?” Steve takes not of your discomfort. 

“I, it's my stomach—,” Your words are cut off by a whimper as the cramp gains severity. You lean more against the wall as the cramp travels across. 

Steve rummages through his mind to know what this substance could be, he had been to HYDRA bases before. He spoke to Bucky all about them, their experiments which he knew. 

He watches as your skin flushes, you squirm in his grasp. He steps closer to support you. 

“Poppet?” Steve makes you look up at him, your eyes have a dazed look almost glazed over. You feel his warmth through your tactical suit. His thigh between your legs and the ache the needy ache is all you know and you need to get rid of it. 

“Please,” You plead to him gazing at his slightly blurred blue eyes, your hips moving out of their own accord against his thigh you moan as your core makes contact with him. 

Steve pushes your hips away, “Poppet what—,” 

“Steve, it hurts so badly. Please,” You cry out wiggling against his hold. His fingers dig into your hips to keep you in place. 

Your palms cover his, you look up at him. 

You lean up, he shifts back. You use the distraction to guide his palm to grind down on it. Your choked moan has his cock harden further. He can’t help but watch as you use him. 

Logic hits him then when he feels just how wet you’ve gotten, before he can pull away there is a prick in the side of his neck. You begin to blur from his view. 

“Poppet, something is wrong.” 

You look up at him, why did his words sound garbled? 

Why was he falling to his knees? 

You look behind him, people standing and watching. 

The need clouding your mind clears in the slightest, “Steve,” you kneel next to him. 

“It’s okay,” he assures you, reaching for the shield. 

The cramp hits you again harder; you cry out in pain, doubling over and sinking against the wall to curl up. 

“FRIDAY, dis-distress signal.” Steve orders as his vision begins to blacken, he reaches for you with the last of his strength covering your curled up form with his body. 

Steve keeps his eyes closed. 

Enhanced hearing picking up the dripping pipes from the left. To his right he hears your pained whimpers. 

How long was he out?

Chains bind his arms above him, the uneven concrete digs into his knees and shins. He would search for the shield in the aftermath. 

He counts four people by their rhythmic footfall. They were in the same facility. It couldn’t have been easy to move them. 

Lolling his head to right he watches you through hooded eyes, chained like him kept on your knees but you’re struggling. Squirming on the ground trying to find respite and crying out of frustration. 

“Sex pollen.” Bucky spoke, with a shake of his head in disgust.

“Sex pollen?” Steve repeated as if to confirm. 

Bucky gives him a look, Steve’s eyebrows shot up higher. 

“What does that do? Did they use it on you?” Steve questioned his best friend. 

Bucky shook his head, “It basically sets the libido up to the maximum, forces the person in contact to orgasm but basically they need to have sex, self pleasure seldom works. The intensity is higher to combat the inevitable effect.” 

A dark expression crossed Bucky’s features, he sighed sadly. Looking out at the view from his home in Wakanda. The house, though borrowed, was Bucky’s own. 

Steve had placed a few sketches of Brooklyn around. The place he used to consider home now changed. Steve stares at the more recent sketch of his home city. 

Two men out of time in a place decades ahead of the world outside. 

“How long?” Steve clutches his charcoal tighter as he forms the curve of soft lips on the paper. A stray tendril of hair. 

Bucky looks down at the half done sketch of your face. His heart aches for Steve and you. 

“Two hours, it gets progressively maddening. At first one can try to speak or answer what is asked. After that it is variable how long it takes for the need to become the sole focus. If nothing is done in two hours then its too far gone and well...” 

He had limited time, he could not gamble any further. Steve opens his eyes, tugging at the restraints to catch the attention of the captors. 

You hear the rattling, you look up at Steve another pang through your core. 

“Steve—,” 

“Ah, Captain. Welcome to the land of the waking, you were out for just under an hour. Now who is this sweet little needy thing with you?” The man asks, stepping closer to you. 

Steve growls, “Stay away from her.” he warns. 

The man raises his hands in defence, “She’s a little needy Captain,” he walks back toward Steve away from you, “Why so possessive?” 

Steve bites his tongue, “She’s mine.” he grits out. 

“I see and why is she yours?” 

He can’t tell them, they would exploit you but his will is crumbling swiftly and his mind is compelling him to speak, “I love her.” 

“Hm, it seems she needs you, Captain.” The man grins, walking back to you. His palm touches your scalp as he pulls your hair back. You want to recoil but the touch is soothing some of the ache. You look at Steve, pleading.  

“I could fill in.” He says suggestively.

You try to shuffle away but the grip on your hair tightens. 

“Don’t you fucking dare touch her!” Steve bellows as his thumb approaches your lips, “What the fuck do you want?” He pulls against the restraints, almost snarling. 

“I want to know where my Soldat is, tell me.” The man demands, leaving you. The words register as does the scent of cigarettes you recoil. You feel your mind working again, clearing the need to be fucked. 

“Steve don’t,” you warn him, he couldn’t sell out Bucky whatever this was, it wasn't worth ruining his life again, “I’ll deal with this…” you bite back the pained whimper. 

Steve stares at you, eyes wide and with an emotion you can’t place. 

“Oh but you know what is wrong with her don’t you Captain?” The man demands and you look to Steve, “Tell her the truth that burns your veins, Captain.” 

Steve wants to lie, wants to cushion you, “Truth serum?” He looks at the man who nods.

“Brilliant isn’t it? You’re compelled to tell me whether or not she chooses to be saved. You’re on a time limit.” The man taps his watch. 

“It’s a sex pollen.” Steve informs you, you stare at him. 

“That, that's why I need?” Your insides churn and your clit pulses as you watch Steve lick his dry lips before he continues to speak. The small insignificant action has your body wanting to be devoured. 

“Yes, and if you don’t get release, it’s fatal.” 

Silence stretches on the footfall of the three others has stopped, they watch the show play out. The consequences and the outcomes weighed. 

“Fight it, don’t tell them. It's not worth it.” You whisper. 

“Poppet you cannot say that. I am not risking your life!” Steve yells, pulling at the restraints again. 

“You can’t have him at risk again!” 

“I won’t let you die!” 

“You already left me for the dead once! You chose him once. Just fucking do it again!” You seethe, your skin clammy and you just want this suit gone. The material irritates you. 

Steve gapes at you, “I, I didn’t—,”

“Save it.” 

“As much as I enjoy a lover’s quarrel. Where is Soldat?” The man interrupts. 

“Gone.” Steve answers, “Poppet, please,” 

“Don’t fucking tell them!” You demand, “Consider it my last wish! Fight the damn truth serum.” 

“You are not dying.” Steve grits out. 

“Where is he, where is Bucky Barnes?” The man lands a punch to Steve’s face. His hair falls forward, slowly Steve looks up at the man. Rage colouring all his features. 

“I will let you help her. Just tell me where Bucky is, Captain.” The man promises. Steve considers, you begin to yell no at him. 

“He’s in the United Kingdom.” 

“Are you insane?!” You slump to the ground, “Do you have any fucking idea what have you done?” 

The man walks over and slaps you, “Shut the fuck up! You want a cock so fucking bad you fucking bitch in heat, I’ll give you one!” 

Steve snarls, wrapping the chain around his own palm and tugging hard until it breaks away from the wall. The man turns, gun cocked and ready, it's grabbed out of his hand by Steve. He looks at the man dead in his eyes before delivering the fatal shot.

You look up at Steve, as the man drops to the floor between the two of you. 

Steve watches the other three scramble about, he quickly fires the shots, he keeps one person alive. 

He grabs the other chain, yanking it with all his strength. It gives way. 

“Where is the shield?” He walks over to the man on the ground, pleading in pain. 

A shaking hand rises, pointing to the vault. 

“Access code?” Steve picks him up and takes him to the keypad. 

The man enters it crying when Steve presses on the open wound, “Don’t fucking pull any stunts.” 

You watch as the doors part and the shield stays there as a momento. 

You blink when everything goes out of focus. You blink again. Heat spreads over your body goosebumps raise across. 

Your thighs clench and you squirm trying to get some friction to release the ache. Tugging at the restraints is maddening. They don’t relent when you try to manoeuvre but no position provides any respite and you sob out as the frustration grows. 

“Poppet.” A warm voice calls out, you whimper. The hold on your right arm loosens and your hand reaches for the tactical suit. You had to get it off. You needed to get it off. 

You blink and watch as Steve’s hand stops yours, you push at him. 

“Please,” you whimper as another cramp takes over. 

“You smell so sweet baby.” He groans, the sound urges you on, you guide his hand to where you need him. 

His warm palm cups you the fabric of your suit soaked Steve hears your sigh of relief. 

“Going to take care of you Poppet, but you need to hold on for me okay?” Steve assures, breaking out your left arm as well. 

“Steve please,” you beg again, your mind screaming at your body, your hips move making you grind onto his palm. Your smaller palm wrapped around his wrist not letting him pull away. 

“Fuck,” He groans, pushing you against the corner and undoing your suit’s zipper, you don’t face him palms braced against the wall. Steve’s warm calloused palm is as though cold respite to your heated skin. 

He doesn’t waste time, fingers running over your folds, palm pressing against your clit. Your head tilts back resting against his shoulder, mouth parted moans leaving you. 

Steve presses his fingers into you, two thick digits and your walls clench around him he almost wishes he’d fuck you right there. 

“Fuck this pussy remembers who she belongs to doesn’t she?” Fingers curve finding the spot he very well could have placed. Stars line your vision as he hits the spot over and over, fingers curving.

“Right there Steve!” You cry out your ass rocking against him, pressing onto his cock. He keeps his thrusts hard and fast, palm rubbing your clit in the most delicious of ways. His grunts fill your senses.

Pleasure thrums from his touch to your body, your back arching as his fingers drive deeper and deeper into you. Your walls are gripping them back in not wanting him to stop. 

“I know sweet Poppet. I know what makes her weep for me. I’m going to taste you. But first you’re going to make a mess on my hand alright?” He instructs filthy words offset by the sweet kisses placed against your forehead and cheek. 

His other hand cups your breast playing with your nipple. Your hands fall from the wall, gripping onto his nails leaving indents on his skin. Steve watches your chest constrict, your voice choke off, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crashes into you. 

His fingers keep moving, riding your orgasm out, your walls quivering around him the sensitivity of your clit as it pulses. Some of the haze clears but the need just returns tenfold.

“Steve, please, I can’t, can’t wait—,” 

His lips are on yours, cutting you off, your suit pushed down further without breaking away from the kiss.

The shield clatters to the floor, his suit haphazardly discarded. Steve’s hands explore your body, remembering the planes he explored before. The love he whispered across your skin. Marking you with his touch, his lips, his seed.

“Wanna see you,” You want to turn, he grabs your hands pinning them to the wall. 

“No one gets to see you this way but me.” He growls, you feel his hard cock move between your thighs. His larger body covers yours, shielding you, watching over you. 

When your thighs clench around him,  Steve hisses, “Going to fill you up, sweet girl.” he coos. 

Inch by inch Steve’s length stretches you, your back arches. The relief the stretch of his cock brings is unlike anything else you’ve felt before. 

“You can take it, made for my cock aren't you?” He stills inside you, throbbing as your walls clench around him. He moans biting down on your shoulder the feel of you decadent, unable to be given justice by his mind.

“Heaven. Pussy feels so good, baby. Missed you so much.” He grunts, you push back against him needing him to move, “hands around my neck.” He orders, leaving your hands.

You wrap them around him, holding onto his now longer hair, soft between your fingers. Your mind remains you of the soft moments when he laid in your lap and your fingers combed through these locks.

Steve pulls you out of your thoughts with the snap of his hips. His palms gripping your waist anchoring you to him. Skin slapping against skin, his cock feels so good you could sob, the need turns into embers, your thirst being quenched. 

Each delicious, deep stroke moves you towards sweet bliss. You hear your name in an echo of his name. Steve watches the wall you mould against him, as countless times before. Your heart may have put up walls but your body left no space.

The way he sees the telltale signs of your orgasm he brings his right hand towards your apex, timing his rough circles on your clit to his thrusts. The sensations blooming become too much, your body alit with flames of pleasure, Steve moans as your walls begin to milk him just as your orgasm shatters through you.

He keeps his thrusts going, pumping into you. The arousal that spills onto your thighs, the mix of you and him. 

“One more.” He demands, fingers coated with the mix of the two of you, his marked fingers brought back to your clit, you cry out in ecstasy. 

The blissful haze clears, everything returning to you. The mission, the power, you can’t, you can’t, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve–,

“Right here my sweet poppet, you will give me one more. You know I'm greedy.” He reasons, only increasing his pace, you thrash in his hold. Lips find the sweet spot of your neck.

It’s your undoing, you cum around him yet again. Crying out his name, tugging on his hair. Aftershocks moving through you. He holds you up, pressing kisses to your forehead, temple, cheek, jaw and shoulders. 

Grounding you, palms moving over you after he brings his coated fingers to taste them. Your head lols against his shoulder, you reach for his jaw, placing a soft kiss. Steve smiles at the familiar gesture. 

Helping you get dressed he follows as well. You’re lifted into his arms and carried to the quinjet.

As it had turned out Bucky wasn’t in UK it was a precautionary measure they came up with to secure Bucky from any life threatening attempts. The guilt you had harboured lessened.

Steve had stayed away from you, once Tony and Bruce cleared you of any remnant pollen he took his leave. Avoiding you as he had after the elevator confrontation. It left a bitter taste in your mouth. 

As much as you felt as if you were an emotional fool for considering the thought of wanting to approach him, you missed him. Terribly. 

You knew your walls were useless against the one man who you had given your jagged heart to, the blue eyes you had drowned yourself in multiple times. Whether it was when he found your gaze across the room or when you were pressed against him.

Your feet carried you after three days to his door. Your hand shook when you knocked. Thoughts swirling through your mind insecurities gaining fleet. 

The door opens, Steve’s eyes widen then his brows furrowed with worry, then fall to the still fading love bite that  he placed on your collarbone. You shift your weight to either side. Hands fiddling with the hem of your top.

You look down at your feet, Steve’s palm cups your cheek. 

Your eyes meet their old home of blue.

“I want to listen.” You manage to say, his pink lips stretch into a familiar smile.

He steps to the side inviting you further into his room.

-x-x-x-x-

[angelltheninth]

Marvel Characters + Angst

Pairing: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Kate Bishop, Carol Danvers, Tony Stark, Peter Parker x Reader

Tags: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, nightmares, injury, protectiveness, kissing, tears, cuddles

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I'm feelings angsty today and now you will too.

Steve has a hard time adjusting to a time of peace when he's known battle and wars for more time than most people. You can see he's always high strung, tense, like he's waiting for something to go wrong. Because of this you can't relax either, despite him telling you that you should. He can't take his own advice. No matter what activity you do together there's that voice at the back of his head that's telling him he has to be ready for action at any moment, he needs to protect you at all times.

Bucky often has nightmares of the things he was forced to do under Hydra's command. When you're not there he can have several sleepless nights but he claims that he's used to getting little to no sleep so there's no need for you to worry about him. Usually he has to be convinced to sleep without his prosthetic arm since he can experience phantom pain without it but he's also more likely to have nightmares with it on. He likes you comforting him when he keeps his head on your lap and you gently run your fingers through his hair.

Sam has had a lot on his plate lately, being the new Captain America and trying to balance that new life with dating you. Sometimes you overhear him talking on the phone, frustrated with whoever is on the other end, and himself for not being with you more. This could lead to a break up if he isn't careful, he doesn't think you'd leave hum but at the same time he thinks you deserve a boyfriend who is always there for you. All these doubts creep into his head even when you tell him you love him more than anyone, he just has to believe those words.

Natasha often hides her feelings of sadness and doubt from you, to a Black Widow it's not a hard task at all. Except you know your girlfriend well enough by now to be able to tell when she's keeping things from you. She doesn't want to, she really doesn't, usually she's happy to share things from her past with you, even the bad, because she wants you to know what you're getting into. Still when she thinks you might get hurt because of her old enemies she makes sure to work extra hard to be able to protect you from any threat.

Clint was a much cockier man when you first started dating, but the years of superhero work and the years you spent apart changed him. There were still parts of him that were the same, parts of the man you fell in love with but there was also the darker parts that he insisted on keeping from you. He always keeps you close at night, his grip tight, scared that you might slip from his fingers if he lets go. The last thing he wants is to give you a reason to leave him again, he wouldn't be able to handle another life without you in it.

Kate was really excited to tell you about her new role as an Avenger, sort of, she's a protégé of her favorite Avenger so close enough. You were happy to see her happy but of course you reminded her that she needed to be careful when she was going on patrol or missions. Of course you expected that she would get a few bruises and injuries here and there, what you didn't expect is for her to turn up at your doorstep barely able to stand on her own. She kept telling you it's not that bad but when she can't even kiss without wincing it's pretty bad.

Carol doesn't really date, she never has, all she had were on and off relationships, some who lasted longer some who were pretty short. With her constant moving around space that was what she figured was best for her emotions and anyone she gets with, no expectations, just honesty. She really hated that she started to like you as much as she did. It complicated everything, she wanted to spend all her free time with you, and you with her, you managed to tear down all the walls she put around herself.

Tony is well known for being a playboy but when he started dating you it was obvious that he was getting more than a little emotionally invested. He started calling you whenever he was free, flirting, telling you he missed the sound of your voice. The first thing he'd do when he was done with work was visit you, showering you with affection, kisses, gifts, anything you want. No matter what the press say he is fully enamored with you, he only hopes you take him seriously and don't feel like he's playing with you for the fun of it.

Peter got a lot more protective of you when you started dating. On the surface he was still the happy, bubbly guy that charmed his way into your heart but underneath he was getting more and more anxious. Torn between telling you his identity and keeping it a secret since he knew how bad that could end, and he certainly didn't want to put you in danger by knowing his secret. However keeping a secret began to take a tole on him, he began making mistakes, getting hurt, and eventually getting caught by you.

[eat-limes-bitches]

Hell Hath No Fury Like A Farmer Socrned

PAIRING: Female Rancher! Reader x Mafia Boss!Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: When his lover is snatched from her ranch, everyone better watch out, and not for the reason they all thought.

WARNINGS: Cannon-level violence, mentions of blood, fighting etc.

Word Count: 1284

A/N: Wow here we are! My first AU! I had this idea while I was a work the other day and thought it was funny. Sorry if it is not that coherent but I tried. If you guys want to see more of this pairing send me some ideas! I'd love to try some more of these two!

Enjoy! <3

Divider by Rookthorne

James Bucky Barnes was known for many things, brilliant, cold, ruthless, fierce ruler of the Brooklyn mafia, amongst many other things. One thing he was not known for was his cool temperament when someone he cared for was in danger which is why his two most trusted men, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson hesitated outside of their boss's office door, not sure how they would break the news. After sucking a deep breath, the pair walked into the room. Bucky sat at his sturdy redwood desk, feet propped up as he leaned back in his lavish office chair. His gaze snapped from the contract to his men standing in the doorway before returning to the papers in his hand as he spoke.

“How may I help you, gentleman?” His deep voice reverberated across the room.

“They’ve got her, boss,” Sam stated evenly, ice dancing across each word. Bucky was on his feet in an instant, staring down the mean in front of him.

“What?” He hissed, any other person in his company would have shivered at the venom lashing out of his words, but it just caused Steve to sigh looking his boss, his dear friend in the eyes.

“They got Y/n at the farm this morning. They just sent in a live video feed that Stark has pulled up in the conference room no-”

Before the words could finish leaving Steve’s mouth, Bucky was shoving past them and all but running down the hall to the conference room. He burst into the room to see Tony messing with the camera feed while the rest of his most trusted men sat around the table, staring at Bucky waiting for his reaction. Bucky walked over to his chair placing his hands on the back of it as he stared at the screen playing the live video feed of Y/n sitting there, tied to a chair with some plastic-coated twine, no doubt from the truck she was in earlier that morning.

Bucky’s eyes traced over her frame, looking for any injuries. If there was so much a hair out of place he thought as his ringed fingers gripped the plush material even harder, causing his knuckles to turn white. As he continued his assessment he landed on her face and it was then that he sucked in a breath, taking notice of how her once soft lips were now busted up and the small gash across the bridge of her nose. What caused him to let out a breath was the overall look on her face. She was livid. Her jaw clenched tightly, her once sparkling eyes dark with fury, he could practically see the rage pouring off of her. Evidently, the guards standing on either side of her took notice as they began to shift uncomfortably.

She's going to be fine. Bucky thinks to himself as he lets out a small sigh of relief.

Bucky pulled out his chair and sat down calmly, catching everyone in the room, including Steve and Sam who had joined the room just a few moments ago, off guard. He cocked his head sideways,

“Will you let them know that we are all present Stark? That seems to be what they are waiting on.” He spoke, his tone even and calm causing everyone to share looks as Tony patched in the audio.

“Afternoon Barnes.” A voice called out as a figure walked around from behind the camera revealing Brock Rumalow, the leader of the rival mob who had been fighting with the Barnes Corp. For many years.

“Looks like you are starting to slack, she was an easy grab.” Rumalow sneered as he approached Y/n, walking around her chair as he ran his hand up her arm and wrapping a hand around the back of her neck causing an even more crossed look to appear on her face.

“Such a shame, I don’t understand why you would let such a pretty little thing out of your sight.”

The atmosphere in the conference room was tense. Everyone knew about the sweet little cattle rancher Bucky fell in love with many months ago. He had finally brought her around during the Christmas party last month where she was loved by everyone who was able to talk with her. However, she was new to this world, his world and so everyone was worried about her the moment they heard she was taken, but watching her now, she didn’t seem the least bit scared, more annoyed than anything, causing confusion to ripple through the air, but no questions were asked as Rumalow continued speaking,

“I believe she has a few things to say to you, James.” He crowed walking away from Y/n with a pat on her cheek, returning to his position behind the camera while she let out a loud huff.

“Yeah, I got some things to say alright. If you aint here in the next hour, I’m gonna be walking home myself. I got a mare due any day now and these asswipes didn’t bother to close the cattle gate after they got me so now all the cattle are probably running amuck stressing out poor Parker.”

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, only Y/n would be worried about her poor farm hand while she sat tied down to a chair by her boyfriend's rival gang.

“I got the location of the camera Buck,” Tony calls out from behind the computer, “It’s only a few blocks away, in that old warehouse on the junction of 5th Avenue and Bakers Street.”

Bucky brushed invisible dust off his pants and started to speak when there was a large commotion coming from the video feed.

Everyone watched in pure shock as Y/n snapped the twine holding her in place, jumping up and kicking a chair at one guard and wrapping the now wrecked twine around the other's neck yanking him down to the ground, his skull hitting the floor with a sickening crack.

Once the guards were dispatched, Y/n glanced to her left before darting off in that direction, the shock of her escape must have finally worn off of Rumalow because everyone, except for Bucky, jumped to their feet as gunshots began ringing out behind the field of view of the camera. There is a loud metallic “thwang!” before Y/n returned to view, holding an old shovel with a small smattering of blood on it and an even more disgruntled look on her face as she examines her once clean cream and blue plaid shirt that was now ruined by a few small patches of blood.

Bucky smiles as he hears a few curses leave her mouth along with a “I just got the blood out of this shirt”.

Y/n then walks up to the camera, letting out a huff as she picks it up and starts making her way towards the side exit. She glances down at the camera before she starts speaking,

“By the looks of it, you have 45 minutes to get here before I start walking, which believe me you do not want me doing that. ‘Cause I swear to God and all that is holy James Buchannan Barnes if that foal is on the ground by the time I get back I’m whooping your and everyone else in that room's asses.”

Bucky chuckles and stands up looking at Sam and Steve as he motions for them to come with him to the garage to pick up Y/n.

“It looks like she had them after all.” Bucky muses as they enter the elevator. The other men nod in agreement as Sam then says, “Remind me to never piss her off.”

[just-aake]

Everlasting Devotion - Part II

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Warnings: light angst, light fluff

Words: 4494

The council meeting had just started moments ago, and Natasha could already feel a headache forming as the members continued to argue with each other.

“Lord Dreykov has made significant contributions to this kingdom,” one councilman insists, his voice rising above the rest. “We must remember that as we decide whether he is truly at fault for any part of the failed coup.”

“Providing the means to execute such acts is participating in treason no matter who they are,” another member counters, her tone equally forceful.

“Wasn’t that governess’ body found in this so-called Red Room? That’s where the soldiers were conditioned to be controlled, isn’t it?” a third councilor interjects. “How can you be sure he provided this information to Lord Rumlow and not her?”

Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose as the debate raged on, voices rising in volume and intensity.

She was beginning to regret not choosing to remain in your company for a while longer before coming here. The warm comfort of your presence is a stark contrast to the current chaos.

Over the past couple of weeks, neither Natasha nor the Captain of the Royal Guard, Steve Rogers, have found additional evidence to bring to the council to prove whether Dreykov is guilty of any crimes, leading to this current situation.

A council divided.

The tension in the room is palpable, each side remaining firm in their defense or prosecution of Lord Dreykov.

“A failed coup involving the head of the house himself,” another councilman remarks derisively, shaking his head before continuing with a scoff. “Not to mention, their governess was also behind that assassination attempt the previous year. Obviously, that family can’t be trusted. Who knows, perhaps Lady Y/n has a plot as well.”

Natasha’s brow twitched slightly in irritation upon hearing your name uttered in such an insulting manner.

Removing her hand from where it had been pressed against her temple in an attempt to soothe the tension there, she straightens her posture and places her now clasped hands on the meeting table with a soft thud.

The subtle commanding action had an immediate effect as a hush fell across the room, each of the council members turning their focus to the young queen.

Fixing the councilman who had just spoken with a hard stare, Natasha’s intimidating demeanor made him shift nervously in his seat, seemingly realizing his mistake.

“Let me remind you,” Natasha begins calmly, her voice cutting through the silence, “that Lady Y/n was also poisoned during that assassination attempt and almost lost her life in this incident as well. Both of which were to save my life.”

Her tone hardens, carrying a subtle warning as she continues, “If I were you, I’d take a little more time to choose your words carefully before making such remarks about her.”

The councilman swallows hard and quickly nods in acknowledgment.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” he murmurs, the earlier bravado gone from his voice.

Natasha’s gaze sweeps across the room, ensuring her message is clear to all.

After a moment of silence, a clearing of a throat gathers the council’s attention as everyone turns to look at the head Chancellor.

“Since we obviously have disagreements concerning Lord Dreykov, let us move on to the other houses involved,” Chancellor Ross declares firmly.

His directive was met with murmurs of assent as the council reluctantly shifted their focus, the tension in the room easing slightly but not dissipating entirely.

With a tiny sigh, Natasha turns to Captain Rogers, who is seated at her side, and gestures for him to begin discussing the verdicts of the remaining two Houses.

At least the council has already agreed on the definite guilt of the other parties involved. Now, all that needs to be discussed is the consequences of their actions.

Steve clears his throat, taking command of the room.

“Lady Eleanor Bishop has withdrawn her title from the Bishop household, accepting guilt for aiding in the coup, and agreed to carry out her sentence in prison.”

At his words, Natasha’s gaze dropped slightly to the table. She remembered how Kate had reacted to news of her mother’s punishment—a mixture of grief and conflict etched on her face before shifting to one of determination and declaring to make amends for her mother’s betrayal.

Though Kate had put on a tough front, Natasha could tell the young noblewoman was still reeling from the emotional toll of the situation.

“Lady Kate Bishop’s now the head of her house. Should she also assume her mother’s previous position on the council?” a member asks, sparking immediate debate.

“She’s too young and has no experience.”

“A new perspective could be good.”

“Is she even prepared for such a role?”

Natasha shakes her head in disbelief at the onslaught of comments from the other nobles, discussing someone’s future without care or consideration for their input.

However, unlike them, she knows about Kate’s personal aspirations as her friend.

Leaning slightly toward Steve, she whispers, “Does Kate still come to the training to be part of the Royal Guard?”

In response, Steve nods, answering, “She’s never missed one session yet.”

Natasha’s expression turns contemplative at the revelation that the young lady is still pursuing her goal despite the additional pressures of taking over her mother’s role and responsibilities.

“Should we consider assigning a different noble house to replace the Bishops, Your Majesty?” Ross asks, looking at Natasha for her input and drawing the council’s attention.

Natasha thinks for a moment before ultimately shaking her head.

“No, the seat belongs to House Bishop,” she states firmly. “Lady Kate will have the choice whether or not she wants to keep the position.”

There were murmurs of agreement, though some dissent was still noticeable. The conversation then shifted to the next pressing matter.

“The replacement for Lord Rumlow’s seat is still under consideration,” Steve announces. “Until then, the responsibility and handling of the mercenaries and weapon dealings must be temporarily assigned to another House.”

A hand raises in the air at his declaration.

“I would like to offer my services,” Lord Jasper Sitwell interjects smoothly. “Seeing how I was previously in charge of that division before.”

“Before you gave it to Lord Rumlow, you mean,” Lady Maria Hill remarks pointedly, her eyes narrowing in accusation.

“How dare you,” Sitwell snaps, his tone defensive as he stands and slams his hands against the table. “What exactly are you implying here?”

Steve starts to stand as well, his expression a warning glare against the other lord’s aggressive behavior, but Maria gestures at her cousin to halt his action with a slight wave of her hand, signaling no need for assistance.

The commander then turns her focus to Natasha, ignoring Sitwell’s glowering posture.

“My house can oversee the mercenaries and weapons with our soldiers. We’re already in charge of the kingdom’s military, so it’s not much of a stretch in responsibilities,” Maria reasons confidently.

“With no war to fight, at least this will give you some purpose for existing,” another council member mutters under their breath, earning a few stifled chuckles.

“Enough!” Natasha reprimands, tired of the constant arguments at every turn. “Attacking each other will get us nowhere.”

She turns to Maria, making the decision.

“Commander Hill will take command of Rumlow’s operations and responsibilities for now.”

That is the safer option between the two.

Lord Sitwell has been one of the more reserved nobles over the years, so his sudden outburst today does raise some suspicion for Natasha, especially since she and Steve are still working to investigate and uncover if any more noble houses are aligned with Dreykov or Rumlow.

Although Sitwell will probably deny it, Natasha knows that he has had dealings with Rumlow in the past. However, the extent of their previous connection is unknown.

The only reason she had some clue to be cautious of the noble comes from the information you provided, based on years of Rumlow boasting and showing off to you.

At her declaration, Maria nods in acknowledgment as Sitwell scowls in displeasure, sitting in his seat with a disgruntled huff.

Observing his reaction carefully, Natasha makes a mental note to discuss further investigation of the noble with Steve.

The rest of the council meeting continues in a similar manner, with moments of agreement punctuated by dissenting voices.

At every decision, Natasha feels the weight of their judgments and opinions pressing down on her, a constant reminder of how she’s supposed to maintain the kingdom’s delicate balance of peace.

After what felt like an eternity, Natasha decided to end the meeting. She was exhausted, and the constant bickering and political maneuvering were wearing her down.

“That will be all for today,” she announces.

However, before the nobles can stand, Lord Sitwell raises his hand for attention. His eyes lock onto Natasha with an inscrutable expression that causes her instincts to rise slightly in caution.

“If I may, Your Majesty,” he begins, “concerning our earlier disagreement, I propose that Lady Y/n be brought in for questioning by the council. Given how she’s the next closest person to Lord Dreykov, she could provide valuable insights into these unknown techniques created by her House.”

Natasha’s hands subtly clenched on the arms of her chair at his suggestion. Her protective instinct for you flares as her expression hardens into a disapproving frown.

She is not going to subject you to the scrutiny of these nobles in an interrogation about the Red Room and Black Widow operations, especially since her family is partly responsible for its creation and secrecy in the first place.

“Information on those methods was restricted after the end of the previous war,” Natasha reminds him, her voice steady in an attempt to deflect.

Not missing a beat, Sitwell presses on, “So, you’re saying Lady Y/n knows nothing about the details of the Red Room or the methods used in controlling people?”

His tone carries a hint of skepticism, challenging her assertion.

Natasha’s mouth presses into a thin line, her agitation barely concealed at his targeted remarks against you.

However, the main unnerving thing for Natasha is that his suspicions are on the right track.

If anything, you probably know the subject the most, having learned the different pieces of information held by each of the original collaborators of the Black Widow operations.

But revealing that fact won’t help you in this situation.

Natasha can feel the curious eyes of the council on her, waiting in expectation for her answer.

“Everything that needs to be known by the council is included in the reports from the investigation that Captain Rogers conducted,” she asserts firmly. “There is no need for Lady Y/n to be questioned.”

A pleased smile appears on Sitwell’s face as he looks at the other council members. His eyes now gleam with a calculating light.

“Yes, I’ve read the report of the incident, but something seems to be missing from the timeline of events recorded,” he remarks pointedly, flipping through the documents in his hands. “After your duel with Lord Rumlow, the accounts directly move on to your encounter with Lord Dreykov and Lady Y/n at their manor.”

Natasha’s expression remains steely as she asks in suspicion, “And what are you hoping to discover by questioning her? Lady Y/n was a victim in this incident, not a suspect.”

“Then perhaps she can provide the missing perspective of what transpired between her and her father before you arrived. Something that might explain the reasoning of Lord Dreykov’s actions at that time,” Sitwell suggests before asserting, “Surely there is no problem in asking her to speak with us, Your Majesty.”

Around the room, the council members exchange glances, most nodding in agreement.

Scoffing lightly under her breath, Natasha can’t believe that out of everything they’ve discussed today, the one thing that most of these squabbling nobles can agree on is to target you.

With most of the others favoring his suggestion, Sitwell continues, challenging with a confident smirk.

“Unless Lady Y/n is planning to use her relationship with you to conceal certain secrets.”

“You—” Natasha clenches her teeth in anger. Her words are cut off when she catches Steve giving her a subtle shake of his head, silently urging her not to continue in her defense of you.

Taking a deep breath, Natasha realizes that losing her composure and responding to Sitwell’s provocation about her relationship won’t be beneficial, especially if she wants to protect you from their scrutiny.

“Fine, I’ll consider it,” Natasha grits out, the words bitter on her tongue, before declaring firmly, “You’re all dismissed.”

The tension in the room dissipates slightly as the council members gather their things, casting furtive glances at Natasha, whose protective anger simmers just below the surface.

As some members slowly disperse from the room, Natasha catches snippets of their disgruntled voices rising in quiet but pointed murmurs.

“No surprise that she favors Lady Y/n, given their relationship.”

“Cunning, just like her father, to befriend and make the queen fall for her over the years to defend her.”

“It’s a shame, really. Limiting ourselves from a more beneficial match. We need alliances, not romantic indulgences.”

Her jaw tightens as she resists the urge to snap at them, her hands curling into fists on the table.

When the room finally empties, leaving only the Captain and Chancellor, Natasha’s head falls into her hands, and she sighs heavily.

“That went terribly.”

“I disagree. You handled it well,” Steve reassures her, a small, friendly pat on her shoulder.

Standing from his seat, Ross makes a tiny sound of acknowledgment, remarking, “It was certainly better than your father’s first attempt at it. However…”

His tone grows serious as he continues, “…I believe you should have firmly agreed to Lord Sitwell’s final suggestion, as your mother would have done if she was in that position. Your response shows obvious special treatment toward Lady Y/n.”

That comment snaps Natasha upright, her glare now fixed on the chancellor.

She’s known Ross for almost all her life, given how he was her mother’s adviser and now hers, so she understandably values his insight after everything he’s witnessed in his role.

However, she cannot stand for this remark, particularly supporting the other nobles’ opposition to you.

“They’re not searching for answers,” Natasha accuses, her voice hardening. “They just want an opportunity to intimidate Y/n.”

“Because of her relationship with you,” Ross states plainly in understanding before giving a slight shrug. “It makes sense. To them, she’s a big threat.”

Steve waves his hand in a stopping gesture, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Come on, Ross. You don’t actually consider Lady Y/N a threat. She’s one of the most loyal nobles to the royal family.”

“Considering she’s also the leading candidate to be the queen’s partner, and her father is under investigation for attempting to overthrow said queen,” Ross points out. “It’s understandable that people in the kingdom might target her or her character.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow at his words, recalling the cryptic warning Dreykov had given her about potential threats looming over you. She rises from her seat, exuding authority and a hint of intimidation.

“Have you heard anything specific, Ross? About individuals targeting Y/n?”

Ross clasps his hands behind his back and responds with a shake of his head, his voice calm and measured.

“It’s merely an observation, Your Majesty. Relationships of this nature are scrutinized closely if they don’t meet the council’s expectations. This means that Lady Y/n will likely face continuous pressure from them if she remains by your side.”

“I can protect her from such things,” Natasha declares, her resolve unwavering.

“Maybe, or maybe not,” Ross remarks calmly. “However, if you truly wish to protect Lady Y/n, then I advise you the best option is to reconsider your relationship with her.”

Steve scoffs in disbelief, crossing his arms as he faces the chancellor. “That’s terrible advice…how can you say that…”

Letting the discussion continue between the two without her, Natasha turns her attention toward the large window in the chamber. She watches the sun slowly setting, remembering her commitment to meet with you later by the lake.

With a small smile at the thought, Natasha disregards Ross’ suggestion, her mind already resolute in her decision.

There’s nothing to reconsider.

You are the only one she wants by her side, and Natasha knows she will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

~ ⧗ ~

The lake waters shimmer under the bright moonlight, casting a silvery sheen that dances with each gentle ripple, enveloping the clearing in a serene atmosphere.

A soft breeze rustles the leaves of the towering tree under which Natasha sits, her back against the trunk while you rest against her front as her arms remain wrapped around you in a warm embrace.

The air is filled with fragrances of blooming night flowers, reminding Natasha of the one she knows has not bloomed yet.

Her eyes glance up at the tallest branch on the tree where that flower rests, untouched and alone. Its time of bloom is still a few weeks away, near her birthday, which will mark exactly one year since the incident that tore the two of you apart.

The memory of that night remains vivid in her mind: the overwhelming fear and panic she felt when you collapsed from the poison, followed by the helplessness she experienced when she also succumbed, unable to help you.

Her arms instinctively tighten around you at the reminder of how close she had almost lost you at that time, too.

You must have felt the slight tension in her body since you decided to break the silence.

“Is there something else that’s bothering you?” you ask, your voice soft and filled with concern.

Natasha already told you everything that was said during the council meeting, including Lord Sitwell’s proposal. The last thing she wants is to add her worries to the pressure that the nobles are trying to put on you.

Shaking her head slightly, she softly whispers, “It’s nothing you have to worry about.”

At her response, your hands stop moving from where they were gently playing with her fingers before slowly falling to your lap as your head lowers slightly to your chest.

Sensing the sudden unease in your body, Natasha leans forward curiously, tilting her head to the side to see your face. She catches a glimpse of sadness in your expression before it shifts away, a small smile quickly appearing on your lips when you notice her gaze.

Frowning slightly, unsure if she truly saw that anxious look, Natasha still moves to reassure you.

“You don’t have to do it, you know,” she remarks softly. “I can always tell them no.”

You shake your head, huffing lightly in exasperation.

“And have them prove to everyone that you are showing favoritism to me,” you point out, raising a brow pointedly.

“Or that I’m just using our relationship to hide some sinister plan,” you repeat mockingly, shaking your head in disbelief at the extent of the other nobles’ conspiracies about you.

Natasha rests her chin on your shoulder, asserting with a playful smirk, “You are my favorite,” before pressing a soft kiss against your cheek.

Her lips are warm and tender, a fleeting touch that lingers in your heart.

“Charmer,” you accuse teasingly, rolling your eyes slightly with fondness as you turn in her arms to face her.

You brush her shoulder lightly, removing some leaves that had fallen there, and then drift your hand down her arm to her wrist, caressing the path gently.

At her hand, you interlock her fingers with yours and bring them to your lips, pressing a soft kiss before pulling away with a sad expression.

“I told you that bringing me into the castle would cause some problems for you with the other nobles,” you remind her.

Natasha scoffs and shakes her head in disbelief.

“You suffered a major injury, and your manor was damaged. The circumstances are completely reasonable for you to be at the castle,” she defends, her voice firm and unwavering, showing no regrets about her decision.

“But I’m fine now, and my manor is mostly repaired,” you say pointedly, knowing that Natasha is also aware of these facts, before adding, “There’s no reason why I should continue to stay at the castle.”

In response, Natasha tugs gently on your clasped hands and wraps her other arm around your waist, pulling you closer. She tilts her head and leans in, tucking her lips against the side of your neck.

Her breath tickles your skin as she whispers, “What if I want you to stay?”

You bite your lip lightly at her action, warmth spreading through your body as you hover above hers. You know what will happen if you let Natasha continue—the closeness of her presence is already almost overwhelming.

So, to keep your train of thought, you pull back slightly from her embrace.

Natasha immediately starts to follow your movement, leaning forward further, but you stop her with a small press of your hand against her chest.

You shoot her an amused, teasing smirk and raise your brow pointedly at her distracted action.

At your silent reprimand, Natasha twists her lips in disappointment but relents with a sigh. She leans back against the trunk of the tree as you bring her focus back to the previous discussion.

“The one issue that most of the other nobles seem to agree on is our relationship,” you say with a sigh. “They don’t like me as your partner since I don’t bring any political benefit to the kingdom, especially now that my house’s reputation is in question with Dreykov’s involvement in the coup.”

“It shouldn’t matter what they think,” Natasha says, her voice filled with frustration. “They don’t get to choose who I get to be with.”

“But as their queen, you do have to consider all of their concerns,” you chastise gently, giving her a pointed look. “Even if it’s about us.”

Groaning lightly, Natasha presses a hand to her head to ease the exhaustion of the memory of the constant bickering among the council members throughout the entire meeting.

“I doubt even they would remember that there are other issues in the kingdom that need addressing, with how they’re so distracted by scrutinizing my love life,” Natasha remarks, a hint of exasperation in her tone.

You ponder her words for a moment, twisting your lips in thought before an idea comes to mind.

“If our relationship is what’s distracting them from focusing on other matters,” you say, a determined expression forming on your face, “then let’s remove the distraction.”

Natasha’s brows furrow in surprise at your words, and she crosses her arms in disapproval, turning her head to stare out at the distant waters of the lake.

The surface now appears still and frozen, an illusion of tranquility, but Natasha knows that with a tiny action, ripples would spread across the entire lake, shattering its peaceful state.

That feeling mirrors the turmoil in her heart at your suggestion.

“I don’t think I like where this conversation is heading,” Natasha comments, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Chuckling softly, you cup her cheeks, bringing her face back to meet your eyes.

A tiny frown remains creased on her brows, and her lips are pressed together in a pout, showing some reluctance to your suggestion.

“We’re not breaking up, Natasha,” you reassure her. “At least not for real.”

Natasha relaxes slightly, but her eyes still reflect confusion and concern as she tilts her head curiously.

“What do you mean?”

You stroke her cheek gently in comfort, easing the distress still on her expression as you explain.

“If they believe that we’re no longer in a relationship, then they can’t bring it up against you anymore,” you reason. Then you can focus their attention on all of the other real matters of the kingdom.”

“They’re going to have to accept you as my partner eventually,” Natasha points out before stating firmly, “It’s not like I’m ever going to choose another person to spend my life with.”

You lower your head slightly at her indirect declaration, hiding the tiny happy smile, and blush at her words.

Shaking off those thoughts about the future, you meet her eyes again with a somber expression.

“I don’t want to be the thing that complicates the beginning of your reign, Natasha.”

“You’re not,” she insists, her voice firm and reassuring.

“But to them, I am,” you counter softly.

Your hand rests lightly above her heart, feeling its steady beat beneath her skin—a reassuring rhythm that speaks of her steadfast love and strength.

“You need time to demonstrate your capability as Queen without them using our relationship to undermine your every decision,” you say before withdrawing your hand to clasp it against your chest. “And I need to prove to them that I’m not afraid to confront them…”

Your eyes shift down to the ground, your expression falling slightly as you finish softly, “…to show I’m not a threat to the kingdom or to you.”

At your tone, Natasha examines you carefully, trying to read the emotions on your face as she’s done many times before. Her brows furrow when she notices the subtle uncertainty and sadness in your eyes and the tension in your body that was not there earlier when she met you.

“Y/n, you know you don’t have to prove anything to them, right?” Natasha asks gently.

Your mouth begins to open to respond, but you hesitate, Ross’s earlier words lingering in your mind. With a tight press of your lips, you manage a slight nod.

“Of course,” you answer weakly.

Natasha’s frown deepens suspiciously, studying you intently, but you press on before she can delve deeper.

“At least let me show them that I didn’t be your friend all these years just to seduce you to be mine,” you joke lightly with a roll of your eyes.

Raising her brows, Natasha slides her hands to your waist and pulls you in with a sudden tug.

You catch yourself on her shoulders to keep from falling entirely on top of her.

When you pull back, curiosity in your gaze, her eyelids flutter at you with a compelling mix of desire and affection.

“Is that what happened?” Natasha whispers teasingly, her voice low, sending shivers down your spine and warming your cheeks at her tone.

Her lips curve into a seductive smile at your reaction, inviting you closer, and her intense and penetrating green eyes captivate you, daring you to resist the undeniable attraction between you.

And you don’t.

Cupping the back of her neck, you draw her face close to yours, tilting your head slightly as you lean in. Before losing yourself to her irresistible pull, you reaffirm your idea.

“We’ve pretended to be together when we weren’t,” you whisper against her lips, brushing them lightly in anticipation. “How hard can it be to pretend we’re just friends?”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

A/n: Thank you for reading!

Taglist : @midastouch013, @2silverchain, @dvrkhcld, @observeowl, @x-drowned-x, @fireandblood-3, @natsxwife, @leequifey, @blacklightsposts, @srt-sah, @scar-letwidow, @likefirenrain, @autorasexy, @natsbiggestfan1, @lex13cm, @iheartjohansson, @tofu9162, @nothanksbye07, @unexpected-character, @natashasilverfox, @acciowriting, @qtreesfanstuff

[syntheticavenger]

Fire We Make - Two

Where, oh where, is this muse coming from?

Previous

Warnings: 18+ ONLY - language, PTSD, manipulation, mentions of stalking/tracking, mentions of past drugging, brief mention of a pregnancy test but that's about it. I've dropped quite a few Easter eggs in here to lead up to the next chapter.

Word Count: 3.2K

Soft Dark Nomad! Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary | Separating from your husband is harder than you realize, despite warnings from your therapist that you need to give yourself closure and keep your distance.

The paper cup filled with coffee warms your hands, hovering near the assortment of cookies, finger sandwiches and chips. 

Your rain boots squeak lightly under the linoleum, watching others come in and embrace, some heading straight for the table as they load up their plates with food. You know that for some, this is the most food they’ll have today – maybe even this week – and you feel a twinge of guilt for even helping yourself to a cup of coffee.

“Hey.”

Sam Wilson stands behind you, cautiously looking at your face. It’s an embrace that you’ve needed, fighting back the tears as he holds you close. You’d had your line drawn in the sand once Steve had retired, no more Christmas cards mailed by Tony Stark or Rhodey. An invisible upheld law that you swore your allegiance to Steve, even if you had wanted to bring them back together to talk, to smooth over the past.

They’d done that for you.

Sam has been your only lifeline to that world that you barely saw, shielded from it much from Steve, who didn’t want to talk about work, especially when he would repeatedly tell you that you were the only place he would call home.

Home, he would tell you, meant that he didn’t want to scar you with the things he had seen and done. Shutting you out intentionally from that world meant that you had to talk with Sam to understand how to bridge that gap.

At your sigh of relief at his handsome face, he opens his arms to you, hugging you tight as he knew that was exactly what you needed.

“I know,” he affirms, so simple and yet poignant that it makes you squeeze your eyes shut to keep from crying.

When he pulls away, he looks around at the people milling behind you.

“This was a drive for you, right?”

He’s right.

Usually his VA meetings are in the city but you’ve been able to track down when he goes to the more rural areas, places where veterans are forgotten and assistance has faded away over time. Sam doesn’t speak about the Sokovia Accords, nor does he grant any interviews now that he’s firmly told reporters that he wants to be left alone. Rumors of Steve giving him the shield were true, one hanging up in his home that he sometime looked on with pride when you and Steve would visit.

For now, he seems at peace.

“A little bit of a drive,” you admit. “I guess I just… needed to see a friendly face.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“Not for a week.”

Sam gives a low whistle, nodding his head. He had been the first person to approach Steve about his issues. For a time, Steve had been attending the meetings – sometime with you and sometimes without you – or so he told you.

“He stopped coming,” Sam informs you. “I guess I thought you’d been able to get him some more professional help.”

“He didn’t like the doctors,” you answer quickly, your brow furrowing at his first comment. “When did he stop coming?”

“About a month ago. He stuck around after a meeting, told me he felt like you and him were in a better place and that he felt that he could move on. I just assumed that you were both figuring things out.”

“I moved out.”

“I know. He told me. Last time I saw him, he mentioned that he was going to remodel the house. Something about keeping himself busy.”

You frown at the news.

“He didn’t mention that to me.”

Sam shoots you a careful look, eyebrow raising as he asks his next question.

“Are you okay?” he asks carefully.

“That’s a loaded question.”

“It may need a loaded answer. Steve isn’t okay. I know that,” Sam confides in you quietly. “He hasn’t been himself since all of this went down. I know he takes his hits and he moves on but this isn’t like anything I’ve seen. It’s obsessive behavior. That’s not healthy. Do you have people who are looking out for you?”

“My family. Friends.”

“You know you’re always welcome here. I mean that,” Sam emphasizes. “But I want you to be careful, okay?”

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“He’s always been obsessed with you. He loves you. More than anything else in this world. But obsession is never a good thing.”

“That’s why we took a break,” you admit, looking down at your cup. “I… I can’t help him in the way he needs.”

“It’s like those airplane safety videos. Put your own mask on before you help others. I know you love him but right now, you need to love him at a safe distance. I’m not trying to scare you, I just know that you two have been together for a while and Steve can be a charming bastard. But I didn’t like what I saw that last month and I didn’t like the idea of him remodeling a house for both of you to live in. He didn’t even mention it to you.”

A chill takes over slightly, making you sip your coffee before you nod.

“I promise. I’ll take care of myself first.”

-

Mona turns up the volume on the TV, the news reporter standing in a wooded area.

“The man has zero recollection of how he found himself in the forest, let alone the last two days. Authorities are still investigating but it is believed the man had been drugged but he is expected to make a full recovery. More to come on this breaking story.”

Mona turns the TV off, making a face as she hands you a glass of wine.

“This world is shitty. I hope he’s turns out okay. Can’t even go have a drink anymore,” Mona sighs. “No more news for me, that shit was depressing. How about we order take out for dinner? What are you in the mood for?”

“I don’t know. My brain is all over the place.

“I can look. But I’m glad you’re here.”

Mona places her glass of wine down, her expression changing for a moment when she clears her throat.

“Look, I need to ask this and I know it’s going to sound crazy but I need you to hear me out, okay?” she warns gently. “It’s been bothering me for a while.”

“What?”

You’re confused, unsure of why this conversation has shifted so suddenly.

“The other night I tried to call you and it kept going to voicemail. I know you told me you were tired but you haven’t been sleeping lately.”

“When?”

“A week or so ago. You told me Steve had been trying to see you and then you didn’t answer your phone and I got worried. I know I saw your text that you were going to bed but…” Mona sighs, shaking her head. “I know it seems weird but the text didn’t even seem like you. You usually call me when you’re awake to let me know you’re alright.”

“I was just tired.”

You repeat the words mentally in your head, trying to remember the night that Steve had shown up at your apartment. You remember eating, Steve talking to you about trying to get back together. You don’t remember texting her, Mona’s hand reaching out to touch yours as your memories get fuzzy from that night.

“Was he with you that night?” Mona asks, a lump forming in your throat.

“For a little,” you confirm, Mona’s mouth tightening at your words.

“Do you remember anything from that night? Texting me back to say you were tired? You didn’t sound like yourself”

“I was tired, Mona, I -”

Mona grips your hand tight.

“I know your texting style. That wasn’t you. And the fact you can’t remember anything else about that night?”

“I told you, I was really tired.”

Mona doesn’t let go of your hand when you try to reach for your phone, to try to get some confirmation that you aren’t blacking out at your memory.

“I need you to listen to me. I think he drugged you.”

-

Your boss doesn’t bat an eye when she grants you a two-week personal leave. She’s been engrossed in the news, a recipient of a Stark grant and she’s been waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. The personal leave, she had told you with a sympathetic nod, is the first step in getting a divorce once you have a clear head.

You don’t have the strength to talk to Mona, to tell her that the test she had pressed you to take is negative.

You’ve cancelled your session with Doctor Maren, rescheduling for next week so that you don’t get a phone call. As it turns out, it isn’t just your friends who are worried about you. Court appointed therapy is a precaution, as you were told when you’d filed. Monitored to make sure you complied.

Dialing Sam’s number, you wait for him to pick up, which he does on the second ring.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” you respond, tears filling your eyes almost too quickly at his question. “I think… I don’t know… I -”

“Are you home? I can come to you or we can meet somewhere.”

“I’m not home,” you rush out. “I’m… I’m a hotel. I just… I can’t be there.”

“Where do you want to meet?”

“I can meet you at the VA.”

“Sounds good, I’ll make sure you’re on the list.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

-

Steve pulls down his baseball cap, ignoring the woman standing next to him in the aisle, her overt bending making him look in the other direction. His cart is nearly full, stopping to look at the various colors of paint. The new room he is working on needs a lighter color of paint than he first thought, picking up two swatches as the woman clears her throat.

“That’s a pretty color.”

“It is,” Steve agrees, looking between both of them.

Your favorite colors have always been green or blue, various shades in between. The woman looks over, giving him a smile.

“I like the green,” she announces. “Very earthy.”

He notices her eyes settle on his wedding ring, her smile fading for a moment.

“Lucky woman,” she says with a nod in his direction. “Does she have a favorite color?”

“She does. It’s blue.”

“I’d go with blue then.”

He stops for a moment, grabbing the bucket of paint and placing it into his cart. The woman watches him carefully, as if trying to figure out where she’s seen him from before.

For a moment, he entertains the thought of her possibly being at the club that you had visited, wondering if she could place his face. Steve knows this is out of the question. He’d been the only one there to take him out.

He’s seen the news. It’s a pity that the man survived but Steve knows it was by pure luck.

Still, the idea makes him wonder what she’s thinking. He thought he would have gotten tired of the beard but it affords him the anonymity that he didn’t know he needed. It had taken some getting used to, especially the way you had first looked at him when you’d seen him when he’d landed from Wakanda. Clean shaven was now a thing of the past, gone with the hopes and dreams that he would be back to the man he used to be.

“Well, you have a nice day,” she calls out, admittedly defeated that he isn’t going to be baited.

“You too.”

He notices how short her skirt is, watching her turn toward another aisle. A woman on the prowl, looking for her next paramour. He knows you would never be like, stalking down the aisles of home improvement stores, batting your eyelashes at random men. Your loyalty is one of the reasons he was drawn to you, how trusting you were and devoted.

He looks down at the supplies in his cart, eyeing the various rolls of masking tape, zip ties and other things inside, including the thick pieces of lumber that he still has to pick up. 

By the time he gets to the registers, he’s already mapped out his plans for the next few days. He’s been back on a cleaner routine, working out in the early hours of the morning and late at a night when he isn’t working tediously on the house.

He smiles to the cashier, paying in cash as she returns it.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Captain America?” she asks, handing him his receipt.

“You’re the first one. You have a good day.”

-

“What happened to Bucky?”

“Deprogramming in Wakanda. Steve took him there himself and when he came back… he was a different person. Made sense. You thought your best friend was dead for decades and he’s brainwashed. That would mess anyone up.”

“And Tony?”

“I wasn’t there,” Sam sighs, straightening up in his chair. “I just know the fight was brutal. I saw videos.”

“I know,” you respond quietly. “I saw them. He doesn’t know that.”

In Sam’s office, it’s a safe space, his degrees and certificates hanging on the walls, pictures in glass frames of his travels around the world.

Him, Bucky and Steve at your wedding.

“Do you ever reach out to Tony?”

“No,” you deny quickly. “Pepper sent me a letter once. Handwritten. She said she missed him. Missed us.”

“Did you ever answer?”

“No,” you swallow. “Steve found it. He wasn’t ready to respond.”

“But it was addressed to you,” Sam points out. “Did he tell you he didn’t want you to answer?”

“I called her. She didn’t answer and then texted me that Tony was around.”

Sam swears under his breath, a look of disgust on his face.

“You’re collateral damage.”

You try to shrug, the loneliness creeping up again. Chewing on a slice of pizza, your thoughts go to Mona and how you had promised that you would tell someone. You still haven’t told Sam why you’re there, the need to admit why you’re occupying a seat in his office rising like bile in your throat.

“When I saw Steve last week, I let him inside my apartment to talk.”

Sam’s head tilts at your admission.

“Go on.”

“He was still trying to get me to change my mind on the separation but.” Pausing, you aren’t sure if you can form the words. It doesn’t feel right, like you’re about to drown.

“What happened?”

“We were eating and I woke up the next morning. I don’t… I don’t remember what happened after we talked.”

Sam goes still, knowing he’s trying to process what you’ve just told him.

“He drugged you.”

“I don’t know,” you reply, Sam shaking his head. “Sam, I -”

“Did you report it?”

“No,” you answer quickly. “I can’t report him, are you kidding, he -”

“Drugged you. Did you get checked out?”

“Sam, nothing happened. I took a pregnancy test, it was negative. I was in the clothes I had gone to work in, no sign of a condom, no sign of anything. I just… slept.”

“As far as you know.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t what? Not get consent while you’re asleep? You’re right, that doesn’t sound like Steve. But the drugging doesn’t sound like him either and here we are, talking about it.”

Silence falls, Sam muttering to himself before he stands.

“Obsessive behavior,” he says to you. “Is that why you didn’t want to stay in your apartment? Does he come there often?”

“I haven’t seen him since I told you. Sam, I just need guidance. He’s hurt and he won’t listen to me. If he did… drug me… I can’t be alone with him.”

“He needs to be taken in.”

You shake your head sadly.

“He wouldn’t spend but a few hours there. And he doesn’t need to be thrown into a jail cell, he needs help.”

“That help can’t come from you.”

“I know.”

“Let me talk to him,” Sam offers. “I can get him into treatment, we can plan this out.”

“He won’t listen.”

“It’s that or jail,” Sam reminds you. “Do you understand the severity of what you just told me?”

“It was to help me sleep.”

“You can’t keep making excuses for his behavior. So, let’s say he was trying to help you out. Did you ask to be drugged? To be placed into bed?”

At your silence, Sam shakes his head.

“I’ll make sure you have an escort back to your hotel. But you have to promise me, and I mean promise me, that you won’t contact him or entertain the thought of contacting him until he gets help.”

You nod in response.

“I promise.”

-

It’s late when you get back, Sam’s right hand, Joaquin walking you to your hotel room, waiting for you to get inside.

Overly tired, you head into the bathroom to take a shower, stripping off your clothes and stepping inside, the hot water beating against your skin.

Stepping out and wrapping towel around your body and one around your hair, examining your face in the mirror gives you pause, noticing your sad expression. You force yourself to smile, touching the apples of your cheeks before you sigh, brushing your teeth in defeat. For that minuscule moment, you almost felt like yourself, finishing up your bedtime routine and slipping into a pair of leggings and an oversized shirt.

Stopping in your tracks, a bouquet catches your attention on the table. It’s red roses, beautifully tied together with a blue bow.

You hadn’t heard anyone come in, let alone the open and close of the door. Inching closer, you pick up the card, reading what it says in a typed font.

I miss you.

Swallowing hard, you’re unsure of what to say or do, taking a step back to look around the room. It’s comfortably quiet, even as you open the closets and look under the bed.

Calling the front desk, you hope that it was a mistake, getting ready to give them a piece of your mind about a flower delivery that was not authorized. For a moment, you relax. It’s probably for the wrong room and a mistake can still be fixed. You’ll double bolt your door tonight and check out and get another hotel.

“Hello?” you greet the front desk when a friendly voice comes on the line. “I’m in Room 476. I was in the shower when flowers were delivered and I had the do not disturb sign on.”

“Oh no,” the voice says, dismayed. “I am so sorry, let me look it up. I apologize, that is unacceptable.”

You can hear the sound of keys on the keyboard being punched, the line going quiet.

“I’m so sorry but it doesn’t appear that there were any flower deliveries in our system today. I’m going to send up our manager and security to address this with you if that is alright.”

“Yes. Please.”

When you hang up, you go back to the flowers, noticing the blue ribbon.

It’s in your favorite color.

[lokisgoodgirl]

A Gentlemen's Agreement [Reader x Loki/Steve/Bucky]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: It's time for you to make up your mind. And the boys have just the plan to help you do that. (w/c 3.2k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smutty. Teasing. Sexual tension. Not a foursome. A/N: Loki is my king. I just needed to get this out thanks to @sidepartskinnyjeans

The click of Steve’s dress shoes echoed as he ushered you away from the busy ballroom of Stark’s county house. Your nerves were fizzing, but your face didn’t betray the flutter of excitement growing in your belly. In the darkness of the mahogany lined corridor, firelight licked from a solitary open doorway. A nod from the captain urged you silently inside. Walking into the room, your breath hitched. Whatever you had expected from his clandestine invitation in the crowd, this wasn’t it.

Steve circled around you, taking his place in the menacingly sensual line-up. There they stood in quiet stoicism, dressed in fitted finery – the trio of beneficiaries to your relentless flirtations. Their arms were folded, their legs wide in triangular determination. For the briefest of moments, you wondered how all of them had managed to excuse themselves from the party at once. But seeing the way they were taking up space, stretching the air with their achingly large egos, that question was quickly forgotten. Each was more breathtakingly handsome than the last. Rogers. Barnes. Laufeyson. “What is this?” you giggled nervously, snapping to each set of blue eyes in turn. They began to smirk in unison. You shivered despite the heat from the fire. “S’come to our attention you’ve been pulling the same tricks on all of us,” the winter soldier drawled, his accent thick with playful taunt. You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t know what you-” “Oh, I think you do, Agent,” Laufeyson hummed, tilting his head. Long fingers drummed on his bicep as he rocked on his heels. Roaring firelight was haloed behind the ebony mane that cascaded around the shoulders of a midnight-blue suit sitting snug to his body. You pressed your lips together, stifling a whimper. “Look fellas, she’s blushing," Steve teased. The three of them chuckled. “I don’t blush,” you snipped, folding your arms to match them. “And I’d appreciate if you could tell me why the three of you are lined up like...like…” The words you searched for ebbed as you readjusted your feet. It was all you could do not to go over on your ankle in these stupid heels. Heat was building between your thighs, the unmistakeable thump of arousal beating as your addled thoughts raced beneath their penetrating stares.

You knew exactly what Bucky meant. And now it seemed, so did they. You knew bending over to pick up that pen in front of all three of them yesterday was a bad idea. Although, no one in the world would blame you – working with three of the finest specimens of masculinity ever created. Had you gone out your way to tease and flirt with each one of them over the past several months? Possibly. But hey, it was good for morale. And besides, there wasn’t a hope in hell any of them would return your affections. Not serial-bed hopper Barnes, he didn’t fuck where he ate. Not tightly wound Rogers, you seriously doubted he’d approve of subordinate relations. And as for the ice king – you weren’t even sure he knew your name.

The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. God, you wished it wasn’t so hot. Your eyes searched the floor, hearing Loki clear his throat. “As Barnes noted, you have been toying with each of us in a manner both indecent and egregious these past months.” He let the rhetorical judgement marinate in silence before continuing. “Do you deny it?” You raised your eyes to his, seeing the embers of mischief smouldering within. “No,” you said confidently, as all three men cast conspiratorial glances to one another. Rogers balanced his elbow on a tight fist, raising his fingers to his chin. He narrowed his eyes. “That dress though fellas," he growled with uncharacteristic lust. "Have you ever seen such a thing?” Barnes snorted. “Forget two birds with one stone, that outfit takes out three cocks with one hit.” His blue eyes were dark in the low light, heavy brows shadowing the contours as his chin dipped. “An assassin, even off the clock.” he grit. “And she knows how much I love that neck.” While he was speaking, you instinctively brushed a strand hanging from your up-do away from the boatline collar of the dress. He was right. You did know. You had known ever since the first of his ragged breaths, tangible desire pulsing in his veins and stretching his trousers as he massaged your shoulders. The first time you had asked, he had thought you were joking. But every time you felt the cool flatness of his metal limb against your spine, steadying you as his fingers found every pocket of tension in your upper body – both you and he knew it was no laughing matter. Had you exaggerated the moans of pleasure his touch released? No. There had been no need. It felt fucking phenomenal. Orgasmic, even. And you hadn’t held them back. Your neck had extended to the side as his fingertips pulsed into the most delicate areas, breathy pants filling the air that you hoped made him think of how you would sound as he fucked you into the headboard. “And she knows how much I love those legs,” Steve smouldered, curling a finger against his lips as his gaze ran from your hips to the floor and back again. The dress stopped midway up your thighs, perfectly tight before the sheer drop of your limbs to the heels. You had caught him staring open-mouthed as you pulled yourself dripping wet from the ocean on a mission in the Seychelles months ago. His face had flushed as you’d clocked him running up your femurs, a bite of his lip betraying the base need boiling beneath an all-business exterior.

On every mission, you now made a point of elevating your leg as you snapped on the holsters, lunging forward against the nearest bench. Wall. Anything to drive him mad. You wondered how often he thought of your legs wrapped around his hips while his tactical suit lay strewn around his ankles. Without fail, his teeth always found their way to his bottom lip; a clench of his ass and a forbidden husk of ‘goddam’ under his breath making you smirk as you turned away. “And I think not that I need to point out what aspect of the offending garment is for me,” Loki purred, releasing the cross of his arms to fall behind his back in a ceremonial clasp. “It’s green," Bucky stated, licking his lips. “Yes," Loki replied in baritone, cheekbones sharpening. “It is.”

Loki. Now that was a story. Yes, you had felt the linger of his keen eyes on your ass. But who hadn’t. And yes, his gravelled pleasantries that always dripped a little closer than necessary into your ear were tempting. But the god was a walking temptation. It was his nature. He was indiscernible, a mystery. Aside from briefings, the longest you had ever spent in his company had been when he would extend his hand wordlessly on nights just like this, leading you the dance-floor. All onlookers would see was the standard wrapping of his arms around your waist, and yours over his shoulders. They did not see the small circles grazed on the nape of his neck beneath his curls, the half-innocent moans released by his ear when he brought you in from a spin. They did not see the lingering play of your fingers on the delicate skin of his wrists, the bite of your lip as Loki’s hips pressed into your stomach. A solitary flame in a sea of cold indifference. You’d take any heat from him could you get. They didn’t see his brows twitch as he registered the green lingerie down the carefully calculated neckline of your dress. Just for him. Your breathing had becoming shallow. Were you actually about to have all three of them at once? Was that even physically possible? Two super-soldiers and a god? You didn’t know if you would survive – but something told you it might be worth it. Positions and logistics raced through your mind, making you dizzy. You shook your head.

“OK you got me, I fancy all of you. So what? It’s just a bit of fun,” you gasped, running sweaty palms casually down the front of your dress. “The fellas and I have an idea, if you’re agreeable of course,” Steve said slowly, following Loki in clasping his hands behind his back. You squinted, congratulating yourself for encouraging the captain’s foray into unbuttoning the top of his shirts. His pulse was racing, you could see it pumping beneath his jawline. Bucky still stood with his arms loosely crossed over a waistcoat, the cotton of his thick white shirt bulging against metal and flesh. A sliver of steel glinted in the firelight, sleeves folded up to the elbows. He nodded once, without a flicker of a smile. Fuck, they all looked so good. “A gentlemen’s agreement, if you will,” Loki uttered, a smile curling on his lips. He’d been waiting to deliver that line, you could tell. “You like us. We like you. But we don’t share," Bucky glowered matter-of-factly. You could feel the thin fabric of your panties sticking to your lips, tacky and unbearably wet from this erotic ambush. “You don’t?” you quipped. “What a shame.” “We don’t," Steve repeated. “At least not ye-” he cast a glance to Bucky, before clearing his throat. “We think it’s important you uh...focus your attentions. If that’s what you wanna do.” A sudden thrill raced through your blood. The idea that they had planned this, that they had spoken about you in hushed whispers behind closed doors made your pussy hum with forbidden pleasures.

You wandered to the antique sofa to the side, feeling the heated stares of each of the men follow you. “What’s this gentleman’s agreement, then?” you purred, crossing your legs. Steve swallowed as the tight emerald fabric rode up your thigh. The god of mischief laughed softly, a deep sound which seemed to shake the room like bass.

“Each of us will kiss you, and then you must decide,” he said matter-of-factly. “The unsuccessful will respect your choice of victor and no retaliation will be made.” “Decide?” “Which of us to get to know better," Steve explained, shrugging off his suit jacket. He threw it gently over his shoulder, making it land on the back of a chair behind him with magnetic finesse. Bucky rolled his eyes. “I think what the captain’s tryna say is that we all wanna get to know you, better. So it’s lady’s choice,” he winked. You raised an eyebrow towards Loki. You couldn’t imagine him ever agreeing to something like this. A solitary nod was his only response, eyelashes fluttering down in a moment of panty-wetting reverence. “I accept,” you said slowly, running your eyes across the line-up. Their competitive sincerity was catching. You wet your lips in anticipation, still in disbelief that this was actually happening. Perhaps your corpse was lying strewn on the dance-floor, paramedics hoisting you onto a trolley in a body-bag. Perhaps this was heaven. And maybe it was the low lighting, or maybe it was the dancing shadows licking their wide bodies stacked with endless muscle. But you could swear that each and every one of them was hard. “As discussed. Thirty seconds,” Loki murmured coolly to the men standing to attention on his right, flourishing a hand. Barnes stepped forward, smoothing long strands of chestnut hair behind his ears.

“Alright,” he growled confidently, swaggering the several steps and planting onto the sofa beside you. His thighs spread against the antique furniture, flexing beneath the tight suit trousers as he twisted his torso to face you. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils, smoked wood and lingering sage like a wet autumn forest. His hand cupped your jawline, the steel arm resting on the back of the curved rest.

“Here goes nothin,” he whispered to himself, curled digits trailing longingly down the curve of your neck. They tugged at the neckline of your dress, slipping it over the curve. He leant forward, parted lips colliding with the crescent of your shoulder. Your eyelids fluttered closed, a staggered moan you didn’t realise was hiding released as he worked across your skin. His stubble tingled against the delicate surface, the flat of his nose slotting beneath your ear as his kisses became hungrier against your pulse point. Less delicate. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, darlin',” he rasped, before licking licentiously from the base of your throat to the angle of your jaw. In seconds, his mouth was pressed to yours; tongue eagerly flicking against your lips before you let him enter. Bucky’s moan was dynamite, fingers guiding your chin as he devoured you in targeted desire. He leant you backwards into the cushions while your arm instinctually slid between his shoulder-blades, pulling him closer. Barnes groaned as his hand slid covetously from your waist and up the curve of your breasts, before burrowing deep into your bun. He thrust gruffly against you on instinct, something thick and menacingly primal dragging against your thigh. The feeling of his fingers tugging at your scalp sent your heat into overdrive, clenching desperately around air. “Time,” Loki purred calmly. Stubble scratched a final time, your hand flying to rest on his metal arm as you breathlessly broke apart with a whimper. Barnes winked, the skin surrounding his mouth pink as he rose and re-joined the other two. You cast glances between them while your chest heaved.

“Do you need a moment?” Steve inquired politely, folding the sleeves of his shirt up further. You watched the veins in his muscled forearms tighten with the movement, the slight bend of his knees as he gave a deferential cough. As if he’s preparing for a fight, you thought as your head continued to spin from Bucky’s kiss. “No, I’m good,” you slurred, smiling as you straightened and patting the sofa beside you. “I prefer it standing, if that’s alright,” Steve said tentatively, brow twitching in mild alarm as he saw your eyes widen. But he didn’t retract it. Standing obediently, it suddenly occurred to you that a kiss on the hand would be very on brand for him, perhaps rethinking his part in this atypical charade. But Steve paced towards you, looking as determined as he did striding down the ramp of the quinjet. Your breath hitched as the captain’s hands cupped your face, walking you expertly back towards the walled bookcase. A shelf pressed against your spine while Rogers bore down, his gentle tongue nudging at your lips; and with a whimper, he breached. The warmth of the muscle caressing your own made your knees wobble. Hard, rippling abdominals pressed flush against your chest, pinning you softly beneath Keats and Wordsworth while his hands began to smooth over your shoulders, over your waist. You felt like the poets would approve. Steve moaned into your mouth as his palms slid possessively down your thighs, grunting as he whipped them forwards effortlessly around his waist. You yelped in surprise before his lips swallowed yours again, ankles crossing around taut hips. The heat from his skin warmed the scent of ginger wafting from the base of his collarbone, its spice firing in your nostrils. The kiss was hungry and desperate and wild. You could feel his solid cock rubbing against your stomach, tasting every inch of your passion as his fingertips dug into the soft flesh beneath your ass. He thrust softly with every wax and wane of his jaw, needy fingers running through his newly mussed golden hair. You pulled greedily before there was a soft clear of someone’s throat. It sounded like Loki. “Time,” Bucky barked, and reluctantly, Steve returned you to the ground. Still in a daze, and with palms spread against the bookcase, your eyes fell on the final figure. “Believe me…” Loki purred condescendingly, “you’ll wish to sit down for this.”

With shaking steps you teetered to the sofa, plonking down with a sharp intake of breath. Loki glided towards you, elegantly manoeuvring his long limbs aside your own. He brought a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back. “You are so beautiful.” he murmured, before pressing in to a firm, chaste kiss. One of your hands flew to his thigh, running your palm over the hard, forbidden mass concealed tight and thick beneath the cotton. You desperately keened into him, tongue searching against closed lips. Loki withdrew with a chuckle, sweeping the hair from one side of his head. “If you wish me to stop, tell me,” he whispered hot in your ear, a wave of amber and spices and decadence filling your senses before he slipped from the sofa to his knees. Your eyes widened as he gently spread your legs. “The rules did not specify where I could kiss you.” he explained softly, pre-empting the questioning thrill lighting your eyes. Disgruntled huffs from Bucky and Rogers barely registered as you felt a cool tingle of the god’s magic dissolve your favourite underwear.

Loki’s smouldering gaze latched to yours, lust-drunk and determined, before it fell to the glistening mess at his eye level. “Do you consent to my audition?” he hummed, tentatively pushing the sides of your dress to the tops of your thighs. Your stare flickered to Steve and Bucky, suspiciously observing Loki on his knees with pure jealousy. "Yes," you heard yourself murmur under your breath. Fresh arousal was seeping from your centre, spreading down your heated skin. You had never wanted anything more. "Louder, please," Loki smirked, the curve of his fingers fastened to your knees. “Yes, Loki...g-god-” you gasped, brow furrowing as you urged him on with a tilt.

Immediately, his tongue licked a wide, earth-shattering stripe up your slit from base to tip. Your head fell back with a rattling moan, one hand combing through his hair as the other gripped the armrest. Loki quickly moved your legs over his shoulders, sliding you further back. The god’s open mouth latched to your swollen clit, sucking and lapping lower with sinful precision. All you could see was his dark curls and proud brow, the sight of the god buried between your open thighs making reality blur. Every caress made your hips thrust further into his mouth, shaking breaths shuddering your body as he moaned against your wet heat. The noises he made were utter devastation, muffled pants and enthusiastic slurps sounding between your splayed legs as he ate you out like a starving man. Behind your eyelids, you could feel the covetous gazes of the two soldiers rolling over your body as Laufeyson’s fingertips dug into your calves like a hunter. “T-time,” Steve choked. “No!” you gasped, pawing at Loki’s cheek in despair. The god smiled, chin glistening while closing your trembling knees in a move that could only be described as gentlemanly. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, unfurling and retreating backwards to the line-up with his arms spread in a show of feigned innocence. You panted, gathering your thoughts as your gaze landed on each of them in turn. “Lady’s choice,” Bucky re-iterated gruffly, widening his legs. Beside him, the captain’s fingers rested wide on his hips, biting his lip while his eyes lingered on the fresh sheen of sweat clinging to your legs. Loki raised a finger absent-mindedly to the corner of his mouth, brushing the edge before sucking it clean to the second knuckle. His eyes smouldered, fixed on you, the flicker of firelight casting deep shadows in hollowed cheekbones. You took a deep breath, the only name it was ever going to be dancing on the tip of your tongue.

🤷‍♂️ For those who want a bit...more - A Gentlemen's Bond is the follow up to this.

Tags @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @psychospore @littlespaceyelf

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted, Chapter 1: Unarmed, Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: (For this part only) Following the events of CA:CW, Tony Stark has offered Steve Rogers an olive branch of sorts to bring The Avengers back together. You, CTO of Stark Industries and head of Innovation & Technology for the Avengers' Initiative, have your doubts, as you're not quite ready to forgive Captain America for ripping your family apart just yet. Steve had one condition, however, when agreeing to return to the team, one that's going to turn your life upside down and inside out: If he's coming back to join The Avengers, he's bringing his best friend, Bucky Barnes, with him.

Warnings: (For this part only) Language (obviously), minor mention of alcohol, I'm obviously on Team Tony during the CW; don't come for me, awful jokes, minor use of (Y/N). As always, if I missed any, please let me know.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Here's a little preview of Unwanted. In it's current form, it's standing at about 50k words, with about 25k still in editing, and I'm maybe about half done with writing the entire thing? I'm not going to lie, it starts out cute and fluffy, but it's gonna get real angsty and painful. Dear Reader has unresolved emotional trauma and Bucky doesn't understand the importance of boundaries in 21st century relationships. This piece has been my baby for several months now; I really hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you'd like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

"You're sure you're cool with this, Boss?" you asked Tony Stark, for what was probably the ten thousandth time in the last hour. The two of you were sitting by yourselves off in a corner of the common area of the Avengers Tower while the rest of your team congregated around the bar, eagerly anticipating the official return of Captain America to the Avengers. That, by itself, would be enough to warrant a gathering of Earth's mightiest heroes, but what had everyone in attendance talking was the fact that Steve Rogers wouldn't be returning alone.

Your billionaire employer sighed and swirled his glass of Laphroaig, the amber liquid sloshing along the sides of the tumbler. "I don't love it, Pocket, but it was Cap's only condition for coming back into the fold, and since Barton, Wilson, and Maximoff all went off the reservation with him, it seemed a small price to pay to get everyone back under one roof." He took a swig of his whiskey and smacked his lips.

You couldn't help but smile at his use of your nickname. Thor had inadvertently given it to you when you first met the God of Thunder years ago, remarking for everyone to hear that you were so small and tiny, he could tuck you into his pocket and abscond away with you to Asgard. Somehow, it stuck. You'd hated it at first; it had felt dismissive and condescending, which of course meant that it soon became the only thing the members of your team called you, but the more they used in their daily lives, the more you actually came to love it. It was a brand new, unique identity that came to embody the person you’d become, and the past you’d worked so hard to put behind you. You were more likely to answer to 'Pocket,' now, than you were your legal name, and you were grateful for it.

"Besides," Tony continued with a shrug, "if letting the Barnes thing go means we get the band back together, I'm willing to be the bigger person about it."

You stared at him, impressed. "Well look at you. When did you get so emotionally evolved?"

"Since Pepper told me I needed to start seeing a therapist or she’d leave me once and for all," he admitted to you with a cheeky wink; you both knew that, though Tony drove his partner, Pepper Potts, absolutely insane sometimes, she loved him far too much to ever walk away from him for good. That didn’t stop the threats, though. Lord knows he tried her patience. In your opinion, the woman was a saint.

Your eyes widened at the revelation and you let out a low whistle of appreciation. "You're going to therapy? Wow. Tony, That's amazing. I'm proud of you."

"Oh please," Tony scoffed, "I have much more important things to do than sit on a couch and spill my feelings. Besides, my secrets are too valuable to divulge to an actual human being. I just trained FRIDAY on therapeutic conversational datasets so she can handle all that psychological mumbo jumbo and then I paired that with BARF's augmented reality-- it's seriously the platinum standard in mental healthcare. No awkward silences or judgmental stares, just pure efficiency. You should try it; it’d do you wonders. And the best part? No copays."

You chuckled as you took a sip of your pineapple and Malibu. "Yeah, okay. That completely tracks for you," you told him with a smile. "So, what did Dr. FRIDAY tell you that got you to change your mind about the Barnes situation?"

Furrows appeared between Tony's eyebrows as he took another sip of whiskey to buy time for collecting his thoughts. There was still so much pain in him where Bucky Barnes was concerned. You'd worked for him in some capacity for nearly fifteen years and you'd never seen him as defeated as he'd been when he got off that Quinjet from Siberia. He'd been bloodied, battered and utterly broken, body and soul. Seeing him like that had shattered you, and you never wanted to live through something like that again.

Tony ran you through his experience with his therapeutic innovation, and you had to admit, it was impressive. The system had helped him realize that Bucky Barnes wasn't responsible for the heinous crimes Hydra had brainwashed him into completing, and so his anger over the death of his parents, while justified, had been misdirected.

"Once I processed that, it was a quick jump to realizing we can't be the best version of the Avengers if we only have half the team at home, and it's innocent people who would pay the price for it. So, when I reached out to Cap and he agreed to come back if I agreed to let him bring Barnes with him, well..." Tony trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hand toward the where the rest of the team was waiting.

"So, you and Rogers are just, what? Good then? All water under the bridge?" you asked him, mild irritation clouding your voice.

"Oh, absolutely not." Tony took another sip of whiskey. "I can work with him again, and I'm glad to, but we're not going to be braiding each other's hair anytime soon."

"Good," you said, raising your glass in a mock toast to Tony. "I'm not quite ready to forgive him on your behalf just yet." Tony had essentially saved your life when you first met him, and he’d continued to support and guide your career to heights you could have never imagined. You'd started as a systems analyst and mechanical engineer at Stark Industries fresh out of college, and under Tony’s mentorship, it wasn’t long before you found yourself rising to the position of the company’s Chief Technical Officer, second in command only to Pepper, now that Tony had passed on the reins to her. All this happened long before he'd ever brought you in to work with him on the Avengers Initiative, and now you spent the majority of your time heading up their Technology and Innovation Department, as well.

Any kind of healthy respect you might have had for your boss had died out a long, long time ago, because Tony Stark  was Tony Stark, but now he was just Tony-- more like an annoying older brother you loved dearly,  whose name just happened to be on your paychecks. You owed him everything and that had earned him your unwavering loyalty. You'd follow him to hell and back again if he asked it of you, though he knew he’d never have to; you’d be paving the path there right alongside him.

The sound of laughter made its way across to you from the other side of the room and you felt warmth at the sound-- everyone, together again and happy. Just a few short months ago, you never would have been able to imagine the scene before you, not after the fight in Berlin and its brutal aftermath. You had thought for sure that this little family you'd found yourself in the middle of had been destroyed beyond repair.

So, you might have had your own reasons to be pissed at Steve Rogers.

"What's Barnes like?" you asked Tony. Having only ever glimpsed him from a distance, or from behind a computer monitor, you'd utilized all the resources at your disposal to dig up as much information on the Winter Soldier as possible, but even your skills hadn't been able to get you what simply didn't exist. "You know I don't like unknown quantities."

Tony seemed to think for a moment. "You mean, aside from being a brainwashed, murderous assassin?"

"Tony," you chastised. You knew that Barnes had spent a good deal of time in Wakanda before coming home to New York, working on having the words that triggered his homicidal alter-ego neutralized. Rogers may not always acted rationally when it came to making decisions about his oldest friend, but you were sure he wouldn’t be bringing Barnes back to the Tower if he posed a serious danger to the rest of you. Right?

"Fine," Tony said, with a typical exaggerated sigh. "Aside from being a former brainwashed, murderous assassin; better?" You rolled your eyes but nodded. "Don't really know, didn't care enough to ask. I'll be happy as long as he doesn't start murdering us all in our sleep. Cap vouches for him, so that counts for something. Maybe not as much as it did once upon a time, but something. But T’Challa seems to think he’s harmless enough now, so that’s good enough for me."

You nodded, taking another sip of your pineapple and Malibu, then leaned back, pensive. "Oh, God," you said after a moment of thought, sitting up in alarm. "You don't think it’s going to be like having an entire extra Rogers around, do you? All '40s morality and emotional repression? Because I am so over having him police my language." It wasn't that you had anything against Captain America as an Avenger, but there was only so much of the Boy Scout act you could take before you started getting nauseous. And okay, fine, you weren't too proud to admit it-- there was a not-so-small part of you that still hadn't forgiven him for what you saw as his blatant betrayal of Tony when he refused to sign the Accords. You'd promised to play nice, though, for the sake of your family, but your personal relationship with The Star-Spangled Man had taken heavy damage since Berlin.

Tony chuckled. "As if you'd ever let Cap's presence keep you from a good profanity. I should put out a swear jar. We could fund that crisis algorithm project of yours off your mouth alone."

"Fuck you, Tony," you uttered with a chuckle, fully aware that he had your number. You never met a four-letter word you didn’t fall immediately in love with.

"And look at that," Tony said with a smirk, "I just made another dollar. Hey FRIDAY, open up a new savings account and deposit a dollar into every time Pocket has a potty mouth."

"On it, Boss," the AI replied cheerfully.

You swore at Tony a few more times for good measure. "I fully intend to financially bleed you dry now, asshole."

"Oh no, I'm shaking in my custom Tom Ford's," Tony mockingly bemoaned, putting his feet, enclosed in the aforementioned ridiculously expensive loafers, up on the coffee table.

Raised voices from the other side of the room caught your attention. You stood up and craned your neck, trying to see what had caused the commotion. "I think they're here, Boss," you said.

"Alright," Tony said, standing up and putting an arm around your shoulder, "big smiles, kiddo. Remember, we're supposed to be happy about this." You suppressed a chuckle as you watched Rogers present Bucky Barnes to the rest of the team. Everyone was welcoming; you wouldn’t have expected any less, but as you watched their body language, the only word that came to mind was guarded. And you completely understood; The Winter Soldier’s reputation had preceded him, after all. There were hugs for Rogers, of course, but no one made any attempt to reach out to his friend.

Despite your overall annoyance with Rogers, you couldn't help but feel some degree of happiness for the giant oaf. When you'd been assigned on a mission with him (which happened fairly frequently, as he was so pathetically abysmal with anything having to do with technology) and ended up having to hole up in a safehouse for an extra couple of days while waiting for extraction, he'd started opening up to you about James Buchanan Barnes, and the reminiscing had made him so happy, you encouraged Steve to tell you everything about this Bucky. After that, the trouble was getting Rogers to stop telling his Bucky stories. If he wasn't sharing tales about growing up with his best friend during the Great Depression and all the absolute mischief they got into, he was sharing war stories of their time together with the Howling Commandos. He'd even shared his grief with you– how painful it had been to watch Barnes fall from that train and the guilt he carried for not being able to save him. He’d confessed to you once that, when he went into the ice, fully prepared to die, there was a part of him that was relieved to be reunited with Barnes in the next life, and waking up some 70 years later to a world where he was still alive but Bucky was still gone had broken his heart all over again. And yet, here they were– together in the next life, after all. If you were a different kind of person, you’d say it was a goddamn miracle. 

Because of the way Rogers described his best friend in those old stories, you were expecting Bucky Barnes to come swaggering along next to him, with a cocksure tilt to his head and a panty-dropping smirk playing along his lips, but the man who accompanied Steve was the furthest thing from that.

He shuffled behind Rogers slowly, looking at the floor and avoiding making eye contact with anyone else from the team. His hair hung long and limp, curtaining off his face as though it were a protective barrier. Though, if it was keeping him away from everyone else, or everyone else away from him, you couldn't be sure. He was much thinner than you'd anticipated, especially for a super soldier– though still extremely muscular, giving you the impression that it had been a long time since he'd let himself indulge in anything more than the bare minimum amount of calories he needed for survival. Tilting your head, you tried to steal a glance at his infamous metal arm, the thing of legends that had turned him from a run-of-the-mill assassin into the stuff of waking nightmares.

But the sleeve of his jacket hung limp, only empty space where the appendage should have been.

Curious. He'd come to Tony Stark's home unarmed. Your hand flew to your mouth to try and stop the uncontrollable snicker that broke loose at your own stupid joke. Tony elbowed you gently in the ribs to shut you up, and you hoped you were too far away and the others too distracted by Steve's introductions to notice you, but that thought flew right out the window when Bucky Barnes' head snapped up at the sound, his eyes locking onto yours from across the room.

"Holy shit," you breathed, knowing another dollar would go into Tony's digital swear jar, but damn if the man didn't have the most striking blue eyes you had ever seen. There were dark circles under them, and he looked incredibly tired, yeah, but they were beautiful. You didn't mean to stare, but you found you couldn't look away, either, and so the two of you were locked into some sort of impromptu staring contest. The longer you looked at him, the more you could sense an overwhelming sadness coming from him, as well as a level of wariness at being in a room full of strangers. It was almost overwhelming.

But then, just as suddenly as it began, the spell was broken. Blinking once, Bucky looked away and you felt the tension vanish from between you.

"What was that about?" Tony asked you in a low singsong voice.

"I have no idea," you answered, honestly. There had been so much pain and loneliness in his eyes. You'd seen eyes like that before, when you were younger and looked at your own reflection in the mirror following a scalding shower with your skin scrubbed raw and bloody. You suppressed a shiver.

Finally, Steve managed to disengage himself and Bucky from the other Avengers and began making his way toward you and Tony. Up close, you were struck by how tall Bucky was. He had to be at least a foot taller than you, if not more. And God, he was handsome. Granted, in a kind of heroin-chic sort of way, but still. A couple of good nights' sleep, a few good meals, some light personal grooming, and... well, there was a very good chance you were going to be in trouble once he got his shit together, that was for sure.

"And Buck," Steve was saying, drawing you out of your ogling, "This is our resident computer genius, Pocket (Y/L/N). You ever need help with anything technology-related, she's your girl."

"A bit of an over-simplified version, Rogers," you said, sticking your hand out to shake Bucky’s, "but yeah, that about covers it."

Bucky looked at you, then down at your hand, making no move to take it.

"What the hell kind of name is Pocket?" he asked, voice rough as though he hadn’t been using it a lot. Pulling your hand back, you shot him an annoyed glare.

"I don't know," you oozed back sarcastically. "What the hell kind of name is Bucky?"

"It's his nickname, Pocket," Steve supplied helpfully, though not without a trace of confusion. You gave him an annoyed, pointed look.

"No shit, Rogers." You turned back to Bucky and spoke slowly, as if to a child. "So, what do you think Pocket is, then?"

"Oh," said Bucky, catching on. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Gotcha; m'sorry about that. My manners are rusty from a severe lack of use."

You didn't mean it, but your mouth curved up into a hint of a smile, too. And then, almost as if you couldn't stop yourself from doing it, you found yourself saying "I see you've arrived unarmed."

There was a long, heavy beat of silence as Steve and Tony stared at you, mouths slightly agape, and you wondered if you'd made a critical error. You were just about to punch yourself in the face and claim you had a concussion and therefore couldn't be held responsible for what you said when Bucky burst into laughter.

It was the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard, and it was contagious. Through your own laughter, you risked a glance up at Steve. He was looking back and forth between you and Bucky, an indiscernible look in his eyes, and you couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since he'd heard his best friend laugh. Hell, you wondered how long it had been since Bucky Barnes had laughed at all.

"Pocket," Tony groaned, palming his face, "that was truly terrible, even for you."

"I'm sorry," you said, trying to catch your breath through your burst of giggles. "It just slipped out-- I couldn’t help it. You know once these things come into my head, they just bounce around in there until they fall out. I didn't mean it."

Steve smiled at you. "So that's what you were snickering at," he said, amused. Damn that enhanced super soldier hearing. Rogers didn't need to be so nosy with it.

You shrugged. "What can I say? Bad jokes are my superpower. Don't be jealous that all you got was super strength and a six pack, Rogers."

Bucky laughed again, then nudged Steve playfully with his elbow. "I like this one, Stevie," he said. "She's funny."

You weren't sure why, exactly, but something in Bucky's words turned your insides into a warm puddle of goo.

Oh, you were going to be in trouble, indeed.

Next Part ->

[whereireid]

𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

pairing:dark!boss!steve rogers x virgin!fem reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.9k | warnings: dubious consent ! power imbalance (boss!steve, employee!reader) sexual naivety, height difference [6'6 steve, 5'3 reader], oral m receiving, rough p in v, misogyny, sexism, breeding kink, daddy kink, housewife kink, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, praise kink, spanking, captain kink, dumb baby reader (in steve's eyes), nonconsensual pregnancy, reader loves big mean stevie and loves when he taints her <3

PSA: YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. 18+ ! If any of these topics trigger you, please do not indulge in this content! This is a DARK!FIC, and is intended to come across as such. Minors, please dni - this content is 18+ and is under my #WOMNSFW tag.

summary: Steve Rogers is in deep need of a new personal assistant. You, an intern for Stark who often loiters around the Avengers Compound, put yourself forward for the position. You believe working under the Captain America will help you to get in good graces throughout your career. Little do you know, being America’s golden boy’s personal assistant means doing a little more than rummaging through files and writing letters.

—

So pretty, so perfect, so poised. Steve Rogers sits back comfortably in his chair, his eyes trained on you, never leaving, not even to acknowledge the poor waitress who puts his beer down in front of him. You speak proper, each word flowing from your mouth with purpose, your speech coherent, and your voice confident.

It makes Steve’s cock twitch in his trousers as he watches you. Your gaze on him doesn’t linger, but you do flinch when he reaches towards his beer too quickly. It makes his stomach flip, and he tries to hold back the hiss that threatens to slip past his lips. He knows he’s America’s Golden Boy, and that he’s supposed to be better than this; but he was raised in the 1930’s, and his ideals surrounding women never really fizzled out.

Your voice fades back in, and as you address him, it snaps Steve out of his train of thought. “So, I’m sure now that we’re well acquainted with each other, Captain Rogers—“

“Please. Just call me Steve. We’ve known one another long enough.”

He quirks a brow as your cheeks flood over in red, before beckoning you to continue your speech. “Well, then, Steve,” you swallow thickly, your voice dropping a few octaves, and Steve senses that he’s embarrassed you. “Now that we’re well - uh, better - acquainted, I hope that you can consider me for the position of your personal assistant.”

“What?” Steve’s blue eyes bore into yours, and they make you brood in anxiety. You feel childish, sitting in front of him in a flowery dress, at what could somewhat be considered an interview, asking to work for him. Perhaps you should’ve dressed nicer, more work appropriate? Yet, before you can blubber on, Steve continues; “doll, if you wanted to work for me, you could’ve just said. Did you do all of this to ask for the position?”

He blinks at you. Embarrassment washes over you like a tsunami wave as you blink back at him. Of course, you could’ve just said you wanted to work for him - you feel naive ever thinking otherwise. Steve’s not a stranger, you practically work with him every day, and he'd be more than enthusiastic to hear you out. He's not one of. the guys at work who ignore women and everything they have to say. He’s nice enough to always say hello to you and sometimes buy you coffee, and flowers if you were down. He's one of the good ones!“I thought it might’ve been inappropriate to ask you whilst you were training.” You shoot him a small smile, trying to ignore how the upwards tug of his lips makes your skin rise with goosebumps.

“Does Stark know you’re applying for this role?”

"He’s actually the one who suggested it.”

Steve takes a long sip of his drink. He stares at you over the rim of the glass, watching you squirm and ponder over his answer. He already knows the answer to your question, but watching you shuffle in your seat and act silly in front of him makes his cock throb, and he enjoys the feeling. You’re so innocent, pressing against the table, wide-eyed, acting as though your tits aren’t pressed together and basically on display for him. The dress is so low-cut. It makes him want to take you right here.

Did you wear that just to get him riled up? “Well, I can’t think of anybody more suitable to fit the position. You know the Compound, you know my office, and I’ve noticed you get on well with higher authorities. You seem like a doting employee.” He kisses his teeth slightly, looking down at the table, before looking up at you through his lashes. He tries to hold back the smirk on his face as he speaks, but it’s impossible not to: “of course, you will also be expected to work somewhat more flexible hours. Later start times, later finishes. We won't always be in the office at the compound - a lot of my additional work files are at my personal home office, but I can always make you up a key to give you easier access."

“Of course,” you chirp, nodding at him enthusiastically. “I’m okay with longer hours, and I can work around you and what you need.”

Steve grins. “Perfect.”

—

It has been about three weeks since you left your position as an intern at Stark Industries and began working for Steve Rogers. It was an exhausting process at first; the sudden change in routine, the heavy workload, the unsociable hours, and Steve often worried you would change your mind. If you couldn't bend for this position, you would break, and he was incredibly worried you'd do the latter. Perhaps because he hadn’t seen you frown so often before, but during the first fortnight of working as his assistant, your lips were always somewhat tugged downwards, and you were always so busy, unable to even joke with him.

You soldiered on, though. Managing to catch up to months worth of missed calls, avoided emails, old paperwork, and forgotten documents. Steve praised you every time you completed a task, and often he found you beaming up at him, prideful and flustered.

Yet, whilst peeking up from his desktop, he finds himself annoyed. You’re sitting quietly opposite him, noting down things and scheduling appointments, and he can’t help the twitch of his cock as he watches you do it. You're not incredibly busy anymore, and yet you're not engaging in any conversation with him. Steve knows you value professionalism, but he only really let you have this job because of his alternative motives when it comes to you.

His eyes flicker back to the computer screen, and then back to you. It's like before his brain can register what he's doing; he's doing it, but he doesn't mind. This is his office, after all, his space. You're his assistant, and if anything, you're supposed to assist him in doing it. His hands are wrapped around his thick, angry cock, and he pumps slowly, watching you intensely.

You're tapping away at your computer so innocently. Your eyes are wide and interested, and clearly whatever your scheduling for Steve has your entire attention because you don't even look up at him. He strokes his cock carefully, and slowly, and his breathing wavers as he runs a finger over his angry, red tip, using some of his precum for lube.

“You okay, Steve?” your voice fills the quiet room, and he looks over at you, his hands still wrapped around his cock. The naivety of your tone makes his cock twitch in his hands, and his pace slows. He makes eye contact with you, never breaking it as he slowly strokes his hand up and down his length. It makes him so much harder that you have no idea what he's doing, and he imagines what your lips would feel like wrapped around him.

“Fine, doll. Just a little sore.” Steve purses his lips as you nod. He meets your eyes, and you hold his gaze, concern plastering over your face.

You're so... modest. Completely unaware of what he's doing, and he loves it. Steve craves you; craves to taint the innocence which consumes you. You're too trusting for your own good, and one of these days, it's going to get you hurt.

Steve just needs to make sure it's him that hurts you, and nobody else.

“You do look awfully red, Steve.” You murmur across from him, concern painting your features. The heavy gaze your boss has on you makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable, but worry overrides any instinctive emotion. “Do you feel hot?”

Steve grunts in agreement with your question. He looks more disheveled than usual. His posture seems hunched, but he seems somewhat relaxed, and his gaze is hard and trained on you. You're unsure as to what's wrong - he's so red, it looks like he's burning up. Perhaps he has a fever, but you're sure the Super Soldier Serum ensures that he doesn't get ill. “Can I get you anything? Paracetamol? A glass of water?” you ask innocently, standing up from your desk chair, slowly walking towards him.

His computer monitor thankfully covers his crotch. Steve’s eyes don’t leave you, and it makes his cock leak when you softly begin to walk over to him. He’s almost certain you own nothing but inappropriate, seductive clothing; he’s seen more of your cleavage these past three weeks than he has anyone else’s, and it’s driving him crazy. The fact he’s managed to hold off from devouring you is insane, but he isn’t sure how much longer he can take.

Being the nice guy just doesn’t seem to be working. The hand which was stroking his cock stills, and he commands you to stop once you’re mere inches away, stood behind his monitor, so small he can hardly see you. “Do you own any appropriate clothing?”

His question is direct and his tone is reprimanding. Your knees wobble, and your head hangs slightly. Shame spreads throughout your body. “I didn’t realise this was inappropriate. My apologies.”

It’s unlike Steve to bark at you. Usually, he’s incredibly soft-spoken and considerate, yet it seems you’ve worn any patience he’s held for you thin. “Doll, every outfit you’ve worn this week has been low-cut and short.” He breathes, and your neck prickles with discomfort when you notice how dark and blown his pupils are. “I’ve been patient. I’ve been kind. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But I don’t think these kinds of… outfits would be appropriate elsewhere. You didn’t wear these outfits when interning for Stark.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Your subordinate manner only makes his cock twitch more, and he’s thankful his hand is sheathing his cock, because the precum that trickles out of its covers his skin and not his trousers. “I’ll try to be more considerate next time.”

It’s painful to let go of his length, but he has to, and he shoves it back inside of his trousers and innocently buttons them up. “Are you wearing these suggestive outfits to get a rise out of me?”

You gasp. “No. Never. I - Sir, I aim to be as appropriate and considerate as possible. I’m sorry I’ve been misleading you.” Steve rises from his seat, and you swallow thickly, feeling incredibly small compared to your boss. You’ve often been close to him - side by side, brushing shoulders, but he’s always been soft-spoken and gentle, apologetic and genuinely caring. Now, it seems like his patience is worn thin, and as opposed to seeing a civilian Steve, you feel as though you're standing in front of a soldier. “I can go and change now if you want?”

“No.” His tone is so low it matches that of a growl, and you cower weakly as he towers over you. Fear pulsates in your being as you stare up at him, suddenly feeling incredibly unsafe, and your heart races in your chest. Steve would never hurt me, you remind yourself, he’s one of the good ones.

You open your mouth to speak, but Steve shushes you. His finger splays over your lips, and you feel scolded and childlike. “I think you do it for attention.” His finger pushes against you, as does his body, as he stalks forward and you shuffle backward, trying to keep any space between the two of you. “You know, it’s been hard staying silent for this long. Watching you from afar, never knowing what to say or do.” His hot breath fans your ear, and Steve’s nostrils flare. “Trying to be a gentleman. Buying you coffee and flowers and cards when you were working at the Compound as a way to be friendly and nice. But I don’t think you want that.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.” You squeak out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Steve’s fingers gently press against your skin, wiping away any that spill, his skin icy against your own. “I-I’ve appreciated the gifts. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” He asks, his eyes shooting down at you. You nod your head eagerly, staring up at him, trying to ignore how the dark look in his eyes makes your stomach flip. “I don’t think you’re truly sorry. I gave you this job to be my personal assistant. I expected more of you. You’re dressing as whore, and you can’t even apologize correctly.”

You swallow thickly, staring up at him. “‘M sorry. I haven’t meant to present myself that way,” your voice wavers. “What would y-you deem a suitable apology, Steve?”

“Captain.” Steve’s fingers find their way into your hair, and you squeak slightly as he tugs at it. “You only get to call me Steve when you’ve been good, which you haven’t.”

“How should I apologize, Captain?”

Your voice is an incredulous whisper. The subordination you show drives Steve crazy, and it takes everything in him not to force your mouth open and push you onto his cock. No, he needs to coax you into it - make you agree that this is the best way to apologize. Any other way wouldn’t suffice.

It’s as though you can’t believe this is happening - and in a way, Steve can’t, either. He’s always imagined this happening - having you begging him to tell you how to do something in a way that’s deemed fit in his eyes, having you be in pain whilst doing it. He curses slightly, before breathing out, “use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship me.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship me’. Don’t expect me to repeat myself again.” He warns, blinking down at you, before muttering, “you’ve dressed like a whore, sweetheart. I think it’s only fair the Captain treats you as such.” His thumb drags down your lips, and you look up at him with such hesitation it makes his balls throb. He feels as though the look on your face could make him cum already.

Warmth floods over your cheeks. It feels wrong as Steve’s palms press heavily on your shoulders, the weight of him coaxing you down. A shudder leaves you as he forces you onto your knees in front of him, and you stare at his trousers, which are tight by the groin. “Captain, I don’t think -“ you swallow thickly, shaking as he comes down to unbutton his trousers, and flinching once his hands clasp yours, “-I don’t think this is appropriate.”

Your voice comes out in a hushed whisper, and he glares down at you, relishing in your embarrassment. Your eyelashes are wet and tears prickle your eyes still, “You’re on your knees now, doll.” He huffs, blowing out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. Your hands shake as he guides them to his trousers. “You might as well get on with it.”

“No I - I don’t want to.” Your voice wavers as he uses your hands to pry his cock out of his trousers, which is an angry red and seeping with cum, and you feel like scurrying away from it. “I-I haven’t ever done anything like this before.” Steve is stronger than you and the grip he’s got on your wrists makes you feel as though they will snap, so you decide not to, rather cowering away from his length in fear.

“Are you a virgin?” His question makes your head shoot up in embarrassment, your eyes wide and distraught, and he groans. “Oh my god, you’re a fucking virgin.”

“I never said I was,” you mutter, yelping when his hands strike you against the face. Fresh tears fall over old tear stains, and you flinch as his fingers splay over your chin.

He tuts. “Don’t lie to me. Are you a virgin?”

“Yes,” you murmur, shameful, eyes watery as you stare up at him. You sniffle, thankful for his gentle touch, which replaces the cruelty of his hands seconds ago. It makes your heart bloom with warmth as he brushes your face softly with his fingers, although he’s wiping away the pain he’s caused.

“My pretty little baby’s a virgin,” Steve coos, and the tone of his voice makes pressure form in your lower belly. “This mouth has never been around anyone’s cock before? Ever?”

There’s almost a deluded tone in his voice as he presses his tip against your lips. You quiver below him, your eyes trained on him as he pushes himself in your mouth. It feels wrong to do this with him - it feels exploitative, and whilst you opt to pull away from him, the wetness in your panties warns you otherwise. You’re enjoying this, and it’s making you feel terrible. You’re letting your boss take advantage of you and you love it.

You'd be lying if you denied the fact that you found Steve attractive. You had a thing for blonds, and the Golden Boy reputation he had made butterflies form in your belly. The fact he was so unlike what he seems makes your thighs clench and your pussy throb. A Golden Boy with an urge to taint; and somehow, you want to be tainted.

You hum against his cock, and it makes Steve’s stomach explode with heat. The wet of your tongue and the hot of your mouth is everything he’s ever wanted and more, and as your teeth scrape against him, he hisses, trying to hold back the smack he wants to deliver to you. You’re not ready for that yet; you’re a virgin, a sweet girl who needs taking care of. He needs to be gentle with you. “Nuh-uh-uh, doll. Cover those teeth of yours and hollow your cheeks - yes, like that, baby."

Steve breathes heavily as you take it in. It feels intrusive to your mouth as you suck on his cock, your tongue swirling up and down his tip. His hands make their way into your hair, and he gently begins to slide your head up and down, going at a quicker pace. It makes your belly ache with warmth as he does it, the feeling of his hands wrapped in your hair making you feel surprisingly... horny? It makes your face flush when you realize you're enjoying being used by Steve, and you eagerly begin to run your tongue up and down his length, tracing his veins and making sure to pay extra attention to his tip.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his balls slapping against your chin uncomfortably, “make your daddy’s cock nice and wet.” Steve’s pace quickens, and more and more of his cock forces its way into your mouth until your eyes are pricking with tears and you’re almost certain his length is going to suffocate you. Gag after gag follows through with each desperate thrust of his hips, and you clasp your hands around his thigh, looking up at him, eager to breathe. He doesn’t let you.

“My perfect little girl. Let daddy cum in your mouth and he’ll forgive you for dressing like such a whore.”

It’s not like you’ve got much of a choice anyway. In Steve's eyes, he's waited long enough to paint you in his cum, and it doesn’t take long for him to finish. He pulls out slightly, spewing cum over your cheeks and lips, grunting with approval at the sight of you. His innocent little personal assistant, who has never felt a man’s cock before today, has just had her throat fucked as though she were a fleshlight. Steve groans, steadying himself by using your head for support, and your nose crinkles as you swallow his cum which had painted your tongue.

It doesn't taste that bad.

“Best you clean yourself up.” Steve murmurs as you clamber up, knees shaking, the heat between your legs throbbing. “I don’t want my personal assistant to look so... defiled whilst she’s working alongside me.”

“Yes, Captain.”

As you attempt to scurry off to the bathroom, Steve stops you. “I want to make a few things clear about your position as my personal assistant, doll.”

You nod your head, uncertain as to what he might say next. The sight of you covered in his cum makes his heart bloom with pride, and he realises that he has finally got you where he wants you to be. “Your role as my personal assistant is to assist me with anything I deem necessary. Whether that be sexual or otherwise. You got that?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good girl.”

—

Your body has been aching and sore for days. Forcing yourself up from your desk chair, you jolt slightly at the sudden pain which shoots up through your spine. You look away from Steve’s hot gaze, which makes you feel flustered and funny, and you begin to flip through pages in your folder, desperate to keep yourself occupied and not draw too much attention from Steve.

“Come here, doll.” His voice is gentle, his arms wide and open, urging you in.

You nod your head, opting to agree. You've become conditioned to his sexual advances, and he accepts when you're not in the mood, saying that he doesn't want to pressure you. Steve is a good guy in that way; he wants you to move at your own pace. You only have to do this for a few more months or so, as that’s how long your contract is.

Steve taps his lap. You comply, carefully seating yourself atop of him, crinkling your nose when he gets too close. He notices, but he doesn’t care, leaning backward slightly and brushing a curl away from your face.

“What have I done for you to hate me?” his once confident voice is quiet, oozing with rejection.

You blink at him. “I - I don’t hate you.”

Steve hums, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. You shuffle uncomfortably in his lap, looking up at him with big, doe eyes, and it makes his cock twitch. You’re so innocent, so friendly, a big baby that needs protecting from the world. All Steve wants to do is protect you and keep you safe. “You don’t look at me the same anymore,” he notes quietly. “You used to look at me like I was a savior before you started working under me.”

You shuffle uncomfortably, looking up at him through your lashes. He moves slightly to get comfortable, and your breath hitches in your throat when his clothed crotch rubs against yours. “I still think of you as a savior, Stevie,” you murmur quietly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

You’ve worked for Steve long enough now to know that the way around difficult conversations is to stroke his ego. His hand snakes around your back, and he traipses his fingers up and down your back slowly. “No bra, huh? What have I told you about dressing appropriately?”

“S-sorry, Steve.”

“Mmm, I forgive you, baby.” His hands fall to your skirt, and his fingers slowly ride up them. The material parts with the moving of his hands, and your body flushes with heat when his finger slides up and down your slits. He tuts. “No underwear, either? This'll be a little harder to forgive.”

You squeak slightly as Steve pushes a finger inside of you. “Y-you asked me not to wear underwear when I'm around you.”

“Nuh-uh-uh. I don’t remember that, doll. Don’t make things up to try and make yourself better off.” Except, he does remember it because he practically commanded you to strip your underwear off the last time you wore some when working alongside him. But you don’t need to remember that. Steve wants you to believe everything you do for him is because you want to do it, not because he’s told you to.

“Really?” you squeak as he curls his finger inside of you, ensuring he hits against your spongy spot. You try to ignore the heaviness of Steve’s gaze, and you swallow dryly, stuttering as Steve slips another digit in, beginning to fuck you faster with a ‘come-forth’ motion.

“Yeah, doll. Maybe you just wanted your daddy to have easier access to this pretty pussy of yours. I know how much you like getting that little pussy touched.”

His fingers slow down inside of you, and he gazes down at you with a raised brow. You protest, trying to roll against his fingers, but he grabs your thighs and shakes his head. “Bad girls don’t get to feel good.”

“I’m not bad," you whine, and Steve shakes his head in response.

“You lied to daddy. Said he wanted you to wear no underwear. You said it like I’ve been forcing you not to wear underwear when it was your decision.”

The sharpness in his tone makes you recoil, and you still your lower half. against him, not wanting to make him anymore angrier than he already is. “I-I’m sorry. It was my decision. I’m sorry for lying.”

Steve sucks in a breath through his teeth. “You know, I’ve been holding back these past weeks. I wanted to break you in.” He pulls his fingers out of you, and you whine in protest, but your sounds are muffled when he shoves them inside of your mouth. You suck instinctively, and he groans against you. “I’ve been wanting to use that pretty pussy of yours for so long, doll. Been wanting to defile you and make you mine.”

Before you can even react, the tip of his cock is pressing against your slits. “I’ve wanted to fuck you and fill you up with my cum for so long now.” His voice is a growl, and you feel frozen in place, beginning to slowly shake your head. “Fuck you full of my babies. And I know you want that, too.” He groans as he presses harsh kisses against your neck, his teeth grazing against your skin.

“No, Steve,” you breathe heavily as he holds you into place, your own body no match for the strength of his. “I- I don’t want that. I'm not ready for a baby."

“But you are. You just don’t know it yet.” His cock pushes into you, and you let out a whimper, struggling against him. Your walls sheathe him, and you let out a pained squeak. "Look at how well you take me, baby. You were made for me. You’re so wet for me. Look at you, trying to deny your rightful place as my subordinate. My pretty little girl.”

He forces his cock into you slowly. Your walls squeeze around him, sheathing his cock so well, and you whimper, squeezing your nails into his shoulders so hard you feel as though you're going to leave behind crescent moons. "No, Steve," you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut, desperately trying to get rid of the burn between your leg. "'t hurts. Stevie, I'm not ready."

"You're ready, baby," he seethes, throwing his head back slightly as he pushes his hips up further. "Your little virgin pussy is hugging my cock so fucking tight."

A mewl escapes you as his cock brushes up against the spongy spot inside of you. Tears prick the corner of your eyes, and mascara begins to brew below your lash line. Steve stares at you, his gaze passionate, wondering how he ever got so lucky. Not only has he got you exactly where he needs you, but he's also ruining you, tainting you for other men.

The only way he can truly ensure other men will leave you alone is to fill that belly of yours with his baby, so that's exactly what he intends to do. "Does that feel good?" he whispers, kissing your cheek softly. "You feel so full, baby?"

"So full, Steve," you whine, trying to adjust yourself to gather more comfort. Your walls rub against his cock as you adjust, and it feels kind of... good, so you do it again. Your hips slowly roll atop of him, and you whimper to yourself, pain mixing with pleasure.

Steve lets you bounce on him. It's a slow pace, and it doesn't hurt, though it feels unnatural to have something this big inside of you. It's not that you're entirely sexually naive - you've masturbated before, but this is completely different. Steve is huge, and with every roll of your hips, you can feel him. There's no room for escape, and your stomach flips as you throw your arms around his neck. "Steve," you breathe, eyes flittering shut as the coil inside of you threatens to break and snap, your toes curled in desperation. It feels as though you're just inches away from experiencing pure ecstasy, but you can't reach it, and it's making you so frustrated, you feel as though you could cry. "H-help me, Steve."

"You want Daddy's help when getting off?" he coos, brushing a curl away from your face. You stare down at him, biting your lip and nodding eagerly, and he groans slightly. So cute, so small, so ready for him. This is how you should be - begging for his help, needing him, relying on him. You're just a woman, after all; you need a big, strong man like Steve to take care of you.

His hips thrust up, and it's incredibly painful at first. Steve's pace is nothing compared to yours - you were being slow and gentle with your body, and he just wants to ruin it. His hips smash into you, his cock sliding in and out, and he peppers harsh kisses against your neck. You mewl against him, pressing up against his chest to feel him, your toes curling in your flats, your eyes dazed, mouth gaping. You look like a picture-perfect image, and Steve grunts as he fucks you, wanting to tip you over the edge.

It doesn't take long until the coil snaps. You murmur and shake against him, your thighs clenched as you cum, squirting all over his cock, drenching his balls and trousers. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," you yell against him, his cock relentlessly fucking you throughout your orgasm.

"I'm gonna fill you with my babies," he growls, "drown your pussy with my fucking cum."

"No," you cry out, unable to move as he thrusts himself into you; again and again and again. You feel so helpless, so small and weak against him, and you stare up at him. His pupils are dark and blown, and his Adam's apple bobs desperately, his nostrils flaring as his cock twitches inside of you. "Please, pull out!"

"I don't think so, baby," he grunts, and with one final thrust of his hips, he finishes inside of you. Your walls squeeze him simultaneously, and he lets out a low, powerful groan, as he coaxes your walls with his cum. "Gotta make you a nice little housewife. Gonna have you popping out all of my babies."

Steve brushes away the tears which slip down your cheeks. He doesn't even realize how hard he's been holding you until he lets go, your arms riddled with handprint marks which he's sure will bruise. "Don't cry, doll," he murmurs, "you knew what came with the job."

"No, I didn't," you sniffle, pressing your head into his neck. It's wrong how his warmth and his smell act as a safety valve for you when he's the reason you're so upset. "I would've never - I would've never gotten into this if I knew what you expected from me."

A gentle sob racks your body, and Steve looks down at you, caressing your face gently. "Baby, stop crying. You're ruining that little face of yours." In honesty, Steve's patience is running thin. He's been good to you; caring, doting, paying you well for an easy job, and this is how you react? You cry into his arms after he tells you he's going to pump you full of his children? He's Captain America, for God's sake. You should be begging for it. "Just - Jesus fucking christ," he huffs as you continue to cry, grabbing your face harshly, and the sudden grip shocks you. "Stop crying. If you're going to speak, at least try and be fucking coherent."

Nodding your head, you wipe your eyes, which are tender and you assume, red. "I'm not ready for this," your voice shakes as you speak, and Steve almost feels a bit sorry at the sight of you. "I- I don't want this."

"Only good girls get what they want," Steve states plainly, staring at your disheveled face. He certainly got what he wanted - you look ruined, and you feel it, too. He imagines his cum is mixed with a bit of your blood; what, with him defiling you and all, he probably broke your hymen as well. The thought makes him grin to himself, and he utters, "I don't think you've been good, so you don't get what you want, baby."

"I'm sorry! I just - this doesn't seem like a fair punishment! I don't want this!" You cry out as Steve delivers a harsh smack to your ass, and you gaze up at him pathetically through your lashes as he tuts.

"I don't care if you think it's fair or not. You've been teasing me ever since you were an intern at Stark Industries, doll. I've been waiting to breed you for that long," his voice vibrates against you, and you shake your head, ashamed that you even thought you could get away with arguing against him. He's the Captain, and he has all of the control. "Anyway, you're just a dumb little baby. You have no idea what you want right now. But I do. I know what's good for you. Don't you trust me, baby?"

[holylulusworld]

Big girls don't cry (1)

Summary: You are no stranger to heartbreak.

Pairing: CEO!Steve Rogers x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, strong reader, mentions of former heartbreak, fluff, arguments, Steve being an idiot, heartbreak, implied smut  

Big girls don’t cry masterlist

Prologue

You were giddy for Steve’s arrival. He was away for yet another business trip for over two weeks and you missed him dearly.

Even if the little overprotective voice in the back of your head repeatedly told you to not get in too deep with Steve, you were already in love.

He’s the kind of man who makes it easy to fall for him. Steve is sweet, smart, funny, caring, loving and it doesn’t hurt that he looks like he stepped right out of a fashion magazine.

That’s the reason you were all dolled up and carried a basket with his favorite food and a bottle of wine toward his penthouse.

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. When you are in love, you are always scared that the dream abruptly ends. Like so many times before…

Men love to spend time with you and to fuck you into the mattress. But most of the time, they seem to be ashamed to be seen with you. The chubby girl.

Size shouldn’t matter. You know that. But it still does. Especially to men.

“He loves you. You love him. Steve is a good man,” you recited your mantra to not spiral into distrusting the man you love again. One too many times you ruined a blooming relationship because of bad experiences with men in the past. “Steve will be happy seeing you.”

After calming your nerves, you pushed the key Steve gave you into the lock, and put a big smile on your face. It wasn’t too hard to look happy. Because, right at that moment, you were happy.

“Steve?” You called for your boyfriend while walking into his home. “Baby, are you already home? Babe?”

“Right here, doll.” He poked his head out of the bedroom. His hair was still damp from the shower he just had and he grinned. “Damn, I wanted to surprise you, Y/N.”

“I thought it was my turn to surprise you,” you flashed him a smile. “Take your time, I’ll prepare dinner for us. I got everything we will need.”

“I wanted to eat something sweeter,” Steve teased, eyes dropping to your crotch. “Maybe after dinner, I’ll get a nice dessert.”

“If you are a good boy,” you cooed and winked at him. “Now, get ready and I’ll take care of the food.”

Steve was all over you after dinner. You barely had the time to carry the dishes into the kitchen before he had you on the kitchen counter, legs wrapped around his body, and his cock buried to the hilt.

You made the sweetest noises only for him, holding tight onto his body as he took you apart. Piece by piece he broke your body. Just like he broke all the walls you built around your heart.

Later you lay next to him, wide awake as you couldn’t fathom that this wonderful man is in love with you.

On the outside, you are a strong woman. Independent and downright cocky. But on the inside, you are still the vulnerable girl who got her heart broken one too many times.

“You should get some sleep too,” Steve mumbled. He nuzzled his head in your chest, groaning as he nipped at your plush flesh. “Damn, you feel so good every time.”

“Sir, you wore me out,” you laughed when he lifted his head to look at you with glassy eyes.

“I love you,” he suddenly said, making your heart flutter. You wanted to say something and return the sweet words, but the doorbell broke the spell. “Fuck, who’s on my door at that time of the day?”

“It’s barely eleven pm, baby.” You rolled to your side to watch Steve get out of bed. He was still stark naked, and you bit your lip while admiring his naked backside. “I like the view, Sir.”

“I know you do, dirty girl,” he looked over his shoulder, flashing you a smile. “Give me a minute.” Steve cussed when the doorbell rang again. “Yeah, I’m coming. Just give me a moment here!”

He grabbed his pants and stumbled out of the room to open the door and yell at whoever ruined his night.

While Steve answered the door, you slipped out of bed and grabbed his dress shirt. You wanted to know who dared to come to his apartment at that time of the day.

Slipping out of the bedroom, you smirked as you recognized Sam and Bucky’s voice. They seemed to argue about a club and some girls. Steve grunted and told them that you came to his penthouse to spend the night with him.

“I’m telling you, you’re whipped, Stevie,” Bucky argued loudly. You rolled your eyes because men always tell their friends in a relationship they are whipped. “You shouldn’t settle down. Let’s have some more fun. We met those cute girls.”

“Buck, it’s late and I just got back from my business trip. I don’t want to discuss this right now. I got a new deal ahead and a lot of stuff going on. I got no time to go to a club.”

You smiled at that. Steve rather spend time with you than go to a club. “You are so whipped,” Sam huffed. “Can you not leave your lady alone for one night?”

“Guys…just drop it,” you frowned when Steve’s voice got angrier. “I need to go back.”

“Why are you all over that woman? You barely know her. All the other girls were just fun to you!” Bucky didn’t give up.

Steve had enough. He didn’t want to argue about your relationship and explain his feelings to his friend. So, he made the stupidest mistake of his life.

“All the other girls don’t have a grandmother who knows Harlan Thrombey. You know that my company has wanted to buy Blood like wine for a while. Now I got the chance because granny will gladly offer her help to save her friend's company.”

“Wait. You’re dating the girl to get close to her granny?” Sam wrinkled his nose. “That’s not cool man. You can’t just—fuck…”

“Fuck?” Steve cocked his head. “I…we are…” He turned around like in slow motion to meet your angry eyes. You looked crestfallen, but at the same time, like an angry Valkyrie, ready to attack. “Baby…doll…it’s not like that. I…”

“You,” you jerked your head toward Sam and Bucky, “fuck off. I got something important to discuss with your friend.” You stalked toward his friends to shove them out of the apartment, slamming the door in their faces.

It took you a moment to remind yourself that you are not broken. No. You won’t ever allow a man to break you.

Steve gulped hard when you finally turned around to face him. “Baby, I can explain.”

You pushed him against the wall opposite the door and sneered. Steve was too shocked at the events and your strength to even fight you.

“You’re so strong,” he babbled, unsure how to explain that he didn’t mean the things he said. He was annoyed by his friends and the pressure his bosses put on him. “Doll…”

“Do you want to know why I got strong?” You huffed as yet another man only used you. “Because of men like you. You know the kind of guy only being with you to take advantage of you.”

“I didn’t…I wouldn’t…” Steve stammered. “Please, let me explain.”

You only frowned at his pitiful try to explain his behavior. “My heart is a fortress.” You leaned closer to look Steve straight in the eyes. “Don’t believe for one moment I opened up for you.”

“Baby doll, I love you. Please let me…please.” Steve watched you push off him, and step away. Moments ago, you two were a happy couple, and now your relationship was in shambles.

“It was fun while it lasted.” You shrugged. “We had fun. Now the fun is over. Let’s not cry over spilled milk.”

Steve could only watch you walk back toward the bedroom to grab your clothes and leave his life. He felt his heart beat out of his chest as you hurriedly threw your clothes on.

“Doll…please…”

You walked past him, not sparing him a glance. He simply wasn’t worth your attention any longer. Another heartbreaker, nothing else.

He called your name, hoping to stop you from leaving.

“Oh. And Steve.” You looked over your shoulder.

“Yeah?” He hopefully asked.

“Stay the fuck away from my grandmother and our business or I’ll make sure you regret your mother ever pressed you out of her vagina. I will make your life a living hell. And just you know, first thing in the morning I’ll call Uncle Harlan to tell him about your plans…”

You didn’t cry on your way out of the building, or on the taxi ride back home.

You didn’t cry when you called your grandmother to tell her about Steve’s plans and asked her to warn Harlan.

You only allowed yourself to break down and cry after you made sure Steve Rogers couldn’t cause damage to Harlan’s business.

If only you listened to the tiny voice in your head.

Well, next time you’ll be smarter.

Next time you won’t let anyone in.

>> Part 2