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literaryavenger · 10 months

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Broken - final part

Summary: The wait for Bucky's trial is finally over.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Language. Innocent and broken Bucky. Mentions of Bucky's past and nightmares. A lot of fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 3K

A/N: this is the last part of this story! I had originally planned on making it much longer but I honestly didn't have many ideas to go on, so I decided to use the ideas I did have and end it there. So here it is, hope you like it!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Masterlist

Slowly you start to forgive the team, starting with Peter that came to you one afternoon handing you some flowers and a teddy bear as an apology and making your heart melt. How can you stay mad at such a sweet boy?

After about a month you're back on speaking terms with everyone, except Steve and Tony.

For some reason you can't get over the fact that they started the whole civil war and were the ones to decide to cut you out of it.

Everyone tried to make you see things from their side, even Thor and Bruce that were back from New Asgard along with Loki, who couldn’t care less about the whole situation but kind of enjoyed the chaos.

After that night with Bucky’s nightmare you talked more about pretty much any subject, and he came to you everytime he needed comfort.

Bucky also isn't able to keep his hands to himself anymore, not that you mind, a feat that did not go unnoticed by the team.

You never miss the knowing looks they give each other every time Bucky hugs you or randomly grabs your hand.

Even though you couldn't bring yourself to forgive Steve yet, you start being around him more and more especially after Bucky asked you to start coming with him to his meetings with Fury.

The closer it gets to his hearing, the more touchy Bucky seems to be with you, as if his hands on you is the only thing that keeps him grounded to reality.

The day before his hearing Bucky can't get himself away from you, following you everywhere since you woke up in the same bed, a thing that started to happen more and more every time he had a nightmare.

Some nights going as far as going to sleep directly in your room without even stepping foot in his.

Steve bides his time the whole day, trying to choose his moment, which came in the early afternoon when you left Bucky on Scott's floor with Cassie while you went to yours to get some Pop Tarts for Cassie since, not surprisingly, Thor finished the ones in their kitchen.

Scott thought that spending time with Cassie, which Bucky has come to be very fond of, would help the super soldier take his mind off the trial, and he was right.

When you get to your floor, and Steve sees you're alone, he doesn't think twice about approaching you.

He's speaking before you even have a chance to realize what's happening. "Listen, I know we’re not in the best terms right now, but I want to talk to you about Bucky."

As much as you want to ignore him you know he really cares about his best friend. And since he’s been nothing but respectful of your decision to avoid him, you think that him actively seeking you out means this is important.

So you nod at him to go on and, with a relief sigh that you're actually gonna listen to him, he does. "Here’s the thing, we both know Bucky’s been through a lot…" he starts, choosing his words carefully as to not give his best friend away completely.

"He’s been doing so much better, and even I realize that’s largely thanks to you." you’re about to protest, but he raises his hand to stop you. "It is. We all see how he is when you’re around, but you don’t see how he is while you’re away on missions. He’s like a puppy just waiting for you to come back, brooding away everytime someone that isn’t you walks through the door."

You can tell he’s trying very hard not to smile as he thinks about it, but fails miserably, before shaking his head a little and getting back on track.

"Anyway, my point is you’re important to him. Tomorrow is gonna be a really hard day for Bucky and I want to thank you for being there for him. Not just for the trial, but for everything I know you do for him. And, I realize it might not be my place to say but, as the only family Buck has left, I feel like I have to tell you: please be careful with him. After everything he’s been through the last thing he needs is to get his heart broken."

Steve knows maybe he said a little too much, but he needs to know Bucky's in good hands. Even if he does trust you with his life, he also wants to know he can trust you with his best friend’s heart.

He doesn't expect you to answer, your face staying neutral the whole time he spoke, and he's about to turn away when you basically throw yourself at him, giving him the tightest hug he’s had since you started avoiding him.

All you can think about was how glad you are that Bucky has someone who cares about him as much as Steve does.

Now more than ever you can see Steve’s reasons behind his choices, how he was motivated by his love for a guy he sees as a brother, the only family he has left.

You get it, you truly do, but seeing it makes you almost cry on Bucky’s behalf.

"I promise you the last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt him." is all you say as you let go, a wordless understanding between you both that you forgive him.

You grab the pop tarts you came here for and go back to an awaiting Bucky and Cassie, who are wearing tiaras and giggling making your heart melt.

The rest of the day goes fast and soon you’re getting into bed with Bucky, not wanting to sleep by himself tonight.

"Hey," he says as he wraps his arms around you. "I just want to say, in case things go wrong tomorrow-"

"Don’t say that, Buck." you interrupt him. "Everything’s gonna be okay, and you’ll come home a free man." you say firmly.

"Doll, we both know there’s a very real chance that I’ll be found guilty and sent back to the Raft. If that happens, I don’t think I’d be able to live without you knowing this…"

Before he can say anything else, you put your hand on his mouth, effectively shutting him up. "Don’t say anything, please. You can tell me tomorrow, after we come back home together."

You can tell he’s trying really hard to hold himself back, but eventually he agrees and you take your hand away, getting more comfortable in his arms and falling asleep in each other’s embrace for what Bucky prays won’t be the last time.

The next morning comes and Bucky’s a bundle of nerves, so worried that time seems to go by in a flash.

Suddenly he’s in a courtroom, asking the judge to please repeat his rouling one more time.

A full pardon.

He can’t believe it. Yes, he has to go to court mandated therapy and has a probation period to go through with the team, but still.

Now he feels like time’s going in slow motion, all he can see it’s you as he turns to your seat next to him. You hug him with tears in your eyes as you tell him how proud you are of him and that you knew he was gonna be okay.

Somehow, you made it real for him. Hearing you acknowledge it makes him believe it and then he’s crying too, not able to hold back.

Steve puts a hand on his shoulder, making you let go of each other and turn to him, a smile so big on his face that you can see all his stupidly perfect teeth.

You all finally get home and, as soon as you enter the living room on your shared floor, you hear a chorus of “congratulations!” followed by loud noises and confetti falling everywhere.

You’re as shocked as Bucky and, as you turn to Steve you see a surprised look on his face too, which turns confused when he looks at you mirroring his own reaction, the same question in the tip of both of your tongues.

But before you can ask each other, Bucky beats you both to it.

"Did you do this for me?" he's amazed, overjoyed and then as confused as you when you both shake your heads no.

Then the mystery is revealed.

"I did it." All three of you are shocked when you turn around to the voice, thinking you were imagining it, to find a very real Tony Stark standing in front of you, the rest of the team behind him.

"You did this?" you have to make sure you heard him correctly.

"Yeah, I did. I’m amazing, get over it." And with that Tony walks away towards the bar. There he is.

You turn to Bucky and Steve and since all they do is stare at you, you just shrug and go to join the rest of the team in celebration, the super soldiers right behind you.

You joke and laugh and dance all together for hours, until eventually you find yourselves sitting scattered around the living room, various conversations going at the same time.

You're sitting on Bucky’s lap, his arms around you and your head on his chest as he jokes with Steve and Sam when you notice Tony going behind the bar, where nobody else is.

You feel the need to follow him so you kiss Bucky in the cheek and tap his arms twice signaling him to let go of you. When he does, somewhat reluctantly, you get up and walk after Tony.

You lean on the bar, crossing your arms in front of your chest. But before you can say anything he speaks, not even bothering to turn around.

"Don’t need to thank me, Cyborg deserves it.- You roll your eyes at the nickname, but decide to let it go for the time being.

"So what, you’re his biggest fan now?" You know you were kind of pushing it, but you just need to know what changed.

He turns around and you get ready for him to yell at you again, but instead he smiles in a way that was too sweet not to be genuine. Yep, Tony Stark is full of surprises.

"I’m not. But I see the way he looks at you." you raise your eyebrow at him.

"How does he look at me?"

"It's the same way I look at Pepper." He answers without skipping a beat. "I know he knows he's not good enough for you, but I can see he's trying to be. That's all I could ask for." he shrugs and turns back around.

You know he means it, as much of a genius as he is, even he couldn’t come up with a lie like that, that fast.

You stare at the back of his head while he works on his drink, both of you thinking of a way to approach the next subject the right way.

When he turns back to you he puts a glass in front of you, your favorite drink in it, and takes a sip of his own drink. After a few more moments of silence, he decides to speak first.

"I’m sorry. For keeping the whole war thing from you and for how I treated Barnes. I had a lot of time to think about it, I read all the Hydra reports we found on him, I rewatched the footage… I can see now it really was out of his control. I shouldn’t have blamed him for something he had no way of stopping. And I shouldn’t have kept something so big from you. I really am sorry."

You’re glad he finally sees things the way you do, but you can’t help yourself as you say "I appreciate it, and I forgive you, but I’m not the one you have to apologize to."

"Trust me, I know." he sighs. "Pepper already gave me the speech…" he says sheepishly.

God, you love that woman.

He makes his way around the bar and stops in front of you.

He gives you a hug and whispers in your ear. "I’m doing this for you, too. I don’t like it when you’re mad at me and I need you to know I meant everything I just said.-"

You’re a little confused at what he’s talking about until he lets go of you and walks towards the couch where Buck’s still talking to Sam and Steve.

"Bucky," he starts, and the room goes silent "I just want you to know that I’m sorry for blaming you for my parents’ death. And it’s not just because the government believes you’re innocent, after everything I’ve learned about your situation the past month I can’t not believe you were a victim and still call myself a genius. I also read some of dad’s old journals from when he worked with the Howling Commandos... You guys were friends. I realize you wouldn’t have hurt him if you had a choice. And I’m also sorry for the name calling, Terminator."

You roll your eyes with a smile at his last sentence while the others snickered at the nickname.

You go to stand next to Tony and wrap your arm around his waist and, when he wraps his around your shoulders and looks down at you, you gave him a squeeze, letting him know you're grateful to him for doing this.

You look at Bucky who doesn’t quite know what to say so you let go of Tony and make your way to sit back down on his lap, his arms going around your waist automatically. That seems to snap him out of it.

"Thank you, Tony. You don’t have to apologize, I understand why you were angry, but I appreciate it. Howard was a good man, he didn’t deserve an end like that." Tony doesn't say anything back, merely nodding and going to sit next to Pepper.

Well, that’s a start.

Everyone goes back to their own conversations and you turn back to Bucky, who's already looking up at you.

"Thank you." he says low enough so only you can hear.

"I didn’t do anything, it was all him. I told you, anyone with a functioning brain can see that you’re a good person." you tell him with a smile.

He smiles back at you, holding you tighter as you lay your head back on his shoulder while looking at your friends talking and laughing amongst each other. You're happy that things are back to normal, with the added bonus of Bucky finally being completely free.

The party eventually ends and the living room slowly empties out, the last people remaining being you, Bucky and Steve.

"Well, I’m going to sleep. You guys should too, today’s been a long day." Steve says, giving Bucky one last pat on the shoulder and, with a smile to the both of you, he gets up and leaves.

You’re sitting in a comfortable silence, not really feeling the need to get up just yet, when you feel Bucky leave a soft kiss against your shoulder, which makes you sit up a little straighter and turn to look at him, your arms going around his neck.

"We still have a conversation to finish… Are you gonna let me talk now?" He's much more confident than he was last night and you nod, curiosity now taking over you.

"Great… I’m just gonna get to the point. I like you, doll. The longer I spend time with you, the more I feel like myself. I feel at peace, like the last 70 years never happened because I know that’s not what you see when you look at me. You’ve never been scared of me, never looked at me like I was a monster. You spend time with me because you want to, not because you have to. You don’t mind having me around even when we don’t talk and all I do is look at you. You comfort me when I’m sad, calm me down when I have a panic attack and hold me until I fall asleep after I have a nightmare. You never judge me or make me feel guilty or like I’m too much, and you never push me to talk about anything, you’re always patient and let me take my time. I truly appreciate everything you do for me and I need you to know that. And to be clear, when I say I like you I mean it in the ‘I’d like to take you out on a date’ way."

You’re almost crying now, your heart melting as you look at an expectant Bucky. You honestly have no words to reply, so you do the only thing you can think of.

You lean down and kiss him softly, feeling him kiss you back almost right away, his lips are so soft you almost moan into the kiss. After a few moments you pull away, forehead resting against his.

"I really hope that means you like me back." he says with a goofy smile, making you giggle.

"Yes, I like you too." you gave him another kiss. "You make me feel seen. You make me feel important. You make me feel safe. I love spending time with you and having you close. And I’d love to go on a date with you."

This time he’s the one to initiate the kiss and you can’t help but smile into it. Suddenly he gets up, picking you up bridal style and making you squeal in surprise.

He laughs at your face while he takes you both to your room, where he lays you gently on the bed.

"I could’ve walked, you know." You tell him while chuckling.

"I know." he answers before basically lying on top of you while you laugh, smile seared onto his face.

You hang onto each other as you fall asleep, more than glad to have found the other and both silently planning your future together.

Bonus part

Requested taglist: @aesthetic0cherryblossom @buchi91 @sapphirebarnes @ordelixx

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x f!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x platonic reader #avengers x platonic!reader

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pharawee · 9 months

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It's Friday Sunday, and that means it's time for more omegaverse shenanigans. 🥳

Sadly, this will be my last Pit Babe novel commentary post for a while because the main story only has 25 chapters. But worry not! Apparently there's a few extra chapters and if anything significant happens you'll be the first to know (but don't be surprised if it's just chapter upon chapter of kinky sex - that's just how Daddy and Papa Charlie and Babe roll).

If you want to catch up, you can find parts 1, 2, 3 & 4 here.

As for this part - expect major spoilers, shenanigans (both omegaverse and not), family reunions, family reunions... and fun card games. But more on that later.

For now, let's get back to Babe, who's apparently rich enough to own a white Ferrari. Show-off. He's currently on his way back to Khun Tony, and he's such a brat about it that he fools the guards into letting him through. Things escalate from there. Babe threatens to bring Tony to justice once and for all, to which Tony reacts with mild bemusement. He's no longer interested in Babe since he's lost his powers, and he even taunts him with Charlie's (supposed) death. No, Tony didn't want Charlie dead. He merely wanted to incapacitate him in order to bring him back home (because car accidents are such a precise science...). It's a pity that Charlie died but, really, at least he's free now. Or something.

This man must have stupid amounts of money to throw at all of his plans because, quite honestly, they're shit. Oh well, at least we know where Way learned his... well, unnecessarily long-winded (TEN YEARS!!) ways.

Babe has heard enough but sadly Kenta steps in before he can get his hands on Tony. This leads to more taunting and the appearance of Way, who casually slings Babe over his shoulder and forcibly removes him from the premises. Which leaves the guards like, "who tf even was that weirdo?" Oh, to be a guard in Khun Tony's employment...

(photoshop is my passion)

Meanwhile, Charlie (alive and, uh, relatively well) is still busy having his stolen powers exorcised by Babe's long-lost dad (the real one this time). The more he uses a particular ability, the longer it takes to meditate out of him. No, seriously, Reval and Charlie are basically just sitting in a room mind-palacing the powers away. Apparently it's very draining.

They also talk about Charlie's guilt, and how he believes it's best to stay away from Babe as not to hurt him again. Sure, he could leave the final decision to Babe but even that, he fears, might be selfish of him as that leaves Babe with the burden of having to decide in the first place. No matter what he does, it will cause Babe both happiness and pain - just like when Charlie's initial selfishness brought him closer to Babe and then almost drove him away entirely. Charlie's mind is going in circles. He's so protective of Babe that he doesn't realise - no matter his intentions, no matter his inaction - he can't untangle himself from the hurt he's already caused and will cause going forward.

Oh, and by the way? That moment when Charlie "died" in the hospital and Babe thought he was getting his powers back and had to listen in on every excruciating detail of Charlie's body shutting down? Yeah, turns out that was Charlie causing (mass) hallucinations and slowing down his body functions. Poor Alan had to go identify Charlie's body in the morgue while Babe was in such a bad way that he basically stopped functioning.

I've said this before and I'll say it again: what the hell, Charlie, you positively traumatised the poor boy. Could you maybe have kicked the bucket a little less dramatically? Did you really have to enact all of Babe's worst nightmares to make it more convincing? Just because you mean well (and didn't do it over the span of TEN YEARS for weird omegaverse breeding purposes) doesn't make it all right.

But more on that later.

Babe has made his way to a safe house. There, he meets Pete - the oldest of Tony's sons and currently AWOL, same as Babe. Pete is adorable, all sunshine and puppies and right-hand man of a local mafia boss. Or something. Because, you see, Pete figured out early on that the only way to leave Tony was to seek the protection of someone even worse. So he started working with the mafia, as you do. Apparently, he's so good at his job that he's convinced them all to go straight. Now he's studying to become a doctor. Oh, and also planning Tony's demise by preparing a really effective presentation.

That's where Babe comes in. Him visiting Tony's mansion was all a distraction - a sleight of hand, if you will. Even though he complains about Way manhandling him (Pete offers to get him a masseuse for the pain) it was all part of their plan:

While Babe distracted the guards by making a big stink, Way snuck into Tony's evil room of plotting (or something) and stole all of his evil data. When he later dragged Babe outside, he used the opportunity to slip the data stick into his pocket. On it there's evidence of all of Tony's evil business transactions. It would be easy to give it to the police, but Pete cautions against it. The evidence would simply vanish - something that has apparently happened many times before. Instead, Pete plans to reveal all of Tony's evil deeds in a way that makes it impossible for anyone to ignore.

We cut to Charlie and Babe sharing a cute moment. Wait, what?

"I've never loved anyone this much before." Babe's voice was soft, as if he didn't really want to accept reality, but he couldn't help but share those feelings with [Charlie]. "I'm afraid that if I love you too much, it will make you uncomfortable. [...] I'm afraid I can't love you as well as you love me."

Is it a dream? A memory? A (shared) vision? Whatever it is, before Babe wakes up from it, he and Charlie share some fundamental truths about themselves. About how Babe doesn't really know how to act now that he's in a relationship because he's never been allowed to be in love. About how he feels vulnerable and unsure, afraid of taking too much instead of giving back. But Charlie reassures him that he likes Babe just the way he is. He feels very loved, and anyway, he's also never loved anyone before so it's not like he has any grounds for comparison.

Meanwhile, Charlie also just woke up. He's given away the last of his powers and he's very exhausted. Jeff is with him to keep him company. Outside, it's just stopped raining. The rain makes Charlie think of Babe because it accompanied them throughout their relationship: when they argued, when they fought, and when they first became boyfriends.

"And the first day you became a normal person, it also rained," Jeff added with a small smile [...]. "But you couldn't see it in time. Only I saw." "Yes, when I woke up, the rain had already stopped." "Maybe that's a good sign." "A good sign?" "Yes," the young man nodded lightly. "Because the rain has stopped. [...] The sky is clear now."

What is this? Allegory? In my omegaverse novel??

There's always been a shadow hanging over Charlie and Babe's relationship - heavy and dark like a rain cloud, constantly reminding them of their past, their powers and the lies it took for them to even meet. Charlie has worked hard to rid them of their powers, and Babe is busy taking action against Tony. Maybe honesty and trust are all that stand in the way of them getting their happily ever after...

Until then, all they have is last night's dream, because as it turns out Charlie shared Babe's vivid memory. Babe's powers were the last to get exorcised and perhaps it created a momentary psychic bond between them. You never know with these omegaverse x-men.

What follows is the moment we've all been waiting for: the grand finale. The Ides of... whatever month this is but I hope Khun Tony gets stabbed to death by all of his adopted children. Et tu Way!

Meanwhile, Khun Tony is throwing a party. And by party I mean a human trafficking auction where he sells off some of his beloved children to fellow rich people. Charming. Why bother with a plan at all? Why not set everything on fire?

Right, because Pete really, really wants everyone to see his presentation.

Currently, Babe is disguising himself as a waiter. We all know waiting (and retail) staff are invisible to most people so no one recognises him except for one lone guard who's so smitten that he asks Babe out on a date.

Pete is also in disguise while Way pretends to be a good son and accompanies Tony for some good old-fashioned evil mingling. Their plan is to disrupt the auction and reveal all of Tony's illegal machinations.

This is a very questionable idea because I don't know about you but if I was at an auction trying to buy a child I'd probably not care if the auctioneer was evil. I'd probably ask for a slice of the evil pie.

Just as Babe is about to set their plan in motion, he's interrupted by Kenta. Uh-oh.

But, much like Pete and Way, Kenta too has had enough of Tony and was just waiting for the perfect moment to act. He assures Babe that he won't interfere. In fact, it was him who let Way into Tony's evil room of plotting to gather all of the incriminating info on him. Et tu Kenta!

"About helping you guys, this is a personal matter. [...] I have a brain, I can think for myself, and I know what to do. [...] But not everyone has many choices. Especially me. I can't make the same choice as you. [...] So, this is the best I can do. [...] You can handle the rest yourself, right?"

And so, Kenta leaves this story (presumably with some of Tony's financial assets) never to be seen again. What a shame. Kim's existence in the series will hopefully fix this.

Meanwhile, the auction is about to begin. I mean, the... uh, fundraising for poor, underprivileged children who also happen to have powers. Everyone's delighted - except for the poor kids who are led on stage one by one and then sold off like priced cattle. The thought alone makes Babe sick. Would the same have happened to him if he hadn't run away that day (no Babe, I thought we had established that you'd have been part of the breeding program...)?

And now, after having watched episode 5 of the tv series, I wonder if this is where the plot will lead us in lieu of the omegaverse plot. Tony mentioned an auction. I wonder if his goal is to sell Babe (and any other of his adopted children) for profit.

Anyway.

Babe's thoughts are cut short by a guard patrolling in front of Pete and his hiding place. Babe decides to check things out but he's quickly overwhelmed by the much stronger guard. He starts choking Babe and things almost go from bad to worse until someone unexpected comes to Babe's rescue.

That someone is Charlie - and there's a short, sweet and intense reunion between them that proves all of his fears wrong:

"I'm sorry." "It's okay," Babe let go of the hug and immediately responded without stopping for a second, his palms framed the other man's cheeks, before kissing his entire face: his forehead, nose, cheeks and lips. "It's okay, Charlie. Really, it's okay." The beautiful alpha hugged the tall young man again while repeating "It's okay" over and over again until the listener felt guilty.

Well, that was easy. But more on that later.

Charlie, Babe and Pete quickly catch up and then join forces. Pete is amazed that Charlie gave up his powers to escape Tony's clutches, going so far as to even fake his death to protect his loved ones. He's also amazed that he'd even dare come here - powerless and without a nifty presentation.

(And also, how does this whole having no powers thing even work? Did Reval - and in turn Charlie when he stole Babe's powers - rewrite Charlie's whole dna? Because how else would that even affect Tony's evil breeding program? And why am I so concerned about the specifics of omegaverse shenanigans? For all I know none of these characters even know or care about dna.)

It's quickly decided - probably due to Charlie's lack of nifty presentations - that they'll continue following Pete's plan. But wait, where is Jeff? There's no way he'd have let Charlie come here on his own!

Back at the auction, another child is led onto the stage to be sold. It's none other than Jeff. The auction grinds to a halt while Tony attempts to save face. This leaves Jeff with enough time to introduce himself and his powers. His name is Jeff, he's a 20-year-old omega and he can see the future.

"In no more than ten minutes, everyone in this room will have the same future." Jeff looked around the room with a bright smile before saying his next sentence which made the entire meeting room fall silent. "That is, death." The little Omega smiled broadly as if his own prediction was very pleasant.

I love Jeff so much. Make them suffer!

He then adds that there's a bomb hidden in the building and it will go off if even one person attempts to leave. Who even needs nifty presentations when you've got... Oracle Omega (no seriously, this is what the novel - or rather, the machine translation - calls him. Maybe it's his code name).

Everyone is then forced to watch Pete's presentation. I really, really hope it looks something like this:

I'm not joking, it has talking cartoon dogs. Interactive talking cartoon dogs overlaid with incriminating voice files of Tony.

Turns out Tony's guests are okay with human trafficking and buying children but they draw the line at violence and murder embezzlement. Everyone is all shocked and clutching their pearls and secretly very glad that their names don't come up in this weird cartoon dog powerpoint presentation.

Tony's acting all cool until the cartoon dogs reveal that this presentation is broadcast live and for everyone to see - this includes live footage of the auction.

But it's never too late to fix your past mistakes so Tony draws his gun on Jeff because he would have gotten away with it too if it weren't for you meddling kids!

Luckily, Way quickly intervenes before Tony can fire his gun, but even though Tony's many guards are somewhat suspicious of a little guy with a bomb and someone who hypnotises people for a living, they're quickly overpowered. In the control room above, Charlie, Babe and Pete don't fare much better.

Everything seems lost until there's a loud crash.

It's Alan in a black supercar and he's crashed through the doors leading to the auction hall.

They're on the second floor (it is sadly later revealed that Alan didn't drive up the stairs - the car was already parked in front of the doors because this is what rich people do to impress other rich people, I guess).

But Alan isn't alone. He's brought several other racers, among them Six (Babe's old rival who was probably turned into either Kim or Winner in the series). Six is a powerful alpha who can cause mass hallucinations that are so strong that they're banned by law.

Yeah.

Tony's guards are going down!

Meanwhile, Tony has had enough. He locks down the whole mansion so no one can escape. Charlie, Babe and Pete make their way up to the roof because there might be a skylight without security doors. They have guns, the many guards have guns, but it's okay because this is where Pete enigma powers come in.

You see, Pete has super control over his whole body, meaning that he never misses a shot.

I guess this explains this bit in the series (except for the part where the arrows are all over the place). But also congrats to Way for his future boyfriend with amazing body control.

While Pete is busy being awesome, Charlie and Babe lament the fact that they're probably going to die here when there's so much sex still to be had. :((((

Things are looking dire indeed. They're surrounded and out of bullets. One of the guards takes aim at Babe but before the bullet can hit him Charlie intervenes by jumping into its path. Miraculously, he's okay.

But that's because a few steps away Way has also jumped into the bullet's path and it's hit him instead. Babe is in shock. He hates Way for what he's done but in a way he's still his best friend. While Alan unsuccessfully tries to stop the bleeding Babe comes closer:

"Babe…" Way's dry voice called out his name as soon as he knelt beside him. "This is all I can do." Babe was silent, he just stared at his former best friend's face, tears flowing silently, without him even realizing it. "I know whatever price I pay, it probably won't be enough. But this is all I can do." Way's voice is very soft, as light as his breath. "…. I'm sorry for being a friend like this.."

And then he dies. Babe is inconsolable, sobbing and tightly hugging Way's lifeless body. He's still angry with Way, and he'll never forgive him for what he's done, but he didn't want him to die.

They better change this whole part in the series or I'll riot. I watched Nut Supanut die once in Something in my Room and I still haven't recovered.

Their victory is overshadowed by Way's death. Tony is apprehended alive and taken into custody. His evil alpha trafficking and breeding program is no more.

A little while later, Charlie finds Babe sitting alone in the mansion's garden. They talk, and Charlie apologises once more for letting Babe believe that he was dead. If Babe wants him to, he will disappear from his life and even stop racing cars so that they'll never have to meet again. This is all he can do: give Babe the freedom to decide for himself. But Babe only asks him if he truly wants to leave, and of course Charlie doesn't. And that's that. Babe has made his choice. He has decided long ago that he wants Charlie in his life.

Their long-lasting painful lives ended in the garden of the mansion that raised them to grow up like caged animals, allowing them to meet and fall in love. Today, everything has ended. It ended with the falling rain washing away their blood stains, sweat and tears, as well as a sweet kiss that he had been thinking about for a long time, making him feel able to stand in the rain without feeling afraid.

Oh, the rain allegory (and also oh, the bad machine translation)!

The novel ends quietly with Way's funeral, eerily similar to Charlie's fake funeral a few weeks prior. It's attended by the same handful of people. Even the clothes they wear are the same (which is convenient, I guess, but also... ouch!). Despite his many wrongdoings, people loved Way - and this includes Babe. And as it turns out, it was Way who got rid of whoever caused Babe's racing accident. He never told anyone about it.

Babe stays behind with Charlie and mourns his friend. He recognises that his feelings of friendship and betrayal are both valid and important (and later on it's established that Babe actively works on processing his traumatic experiences with the help of medication and therapy - and you know, I really appreciate the novel's nuanced approach to a character's mental health. It's an incredibly rare thing to see in Thai BL and an even rarer thing in most kinky stories). He won't forgive Way but...

"In the next life, please be kind to me. Don't deceive me again [...] Be a good friend, idiot!"

Which is as much of a peace-offering as anyone can hope for - wishing to meet each other again in the next life under better circumstances. Negl, I teared up because it's such a bittersweet thing to say. 😭

Meanwhile, Alan and Jeff have gone ahead and are talking in the car. Their ending is vaguely romantic (with their growing relationship hopefully developing further in the bonus chapters) but for now, all Alan asks of Jeff is to accept him in his heart as his brother. Please, don't phi nong me, novel!

And because this is Pit Babe the novel, we get one last drawn out sex scene that consists of Charlie trying to cheer Babe up by suggesting a game of naughty cards. A bit like strip uno, I guess. Naturally, Babe wins, but Charlie is allowed to leave his glasses on - and wear nothing but an apron while he gives Babe the bestest and longest and absolutely mindblowing (yes, there's a lot of blowing too) dicking of his life. Babe, my man, enjoy. You truly deserve it.

The End.

No wait, the novel actually ends with Babe and Charlie racing again for this year's title of King of the Hollow. Charlie is very skilled now, and it's very close but I'm relieved to say that Babe's experience and talent isn't all for nothing and OF COURSE HE FUCKING WINS.

The End.

Hold on, wait. I forgot about the part where Charlie takes Babe to see Reval - his real father. And of course Babe forgives him and it's all very sweet and they live happily ever after.

THE END. For real this time. Except for the bonus chapters. And unless the mpreg happens there (I mean, Jeff and North are technically available...), that's it for the omegaverse shenanigans.

When I first started writing these commentary posts I never thought they'd become so detailed and long - or that people would actually be interested in reading them. Thank you so much to everyone who left replies and tags. Sharing the insanity and reading everyone's reactions was honestly the best part of it all. May Pit Babe the series treat us kindly, and may none of us ever pop up in a cartoon dog powerpoint presentation. 🙏

#pit babe #pit babe the series #pit babe spoilers #pit babe meta #bl meta #jane watches stuff #it took me days to write this and i hope it doesn't show #the length got somewhat out of hand but i hope it's still fun to read #man what a ride #(and i'm not just talking about charlie and babe's favourite pastime)

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themultifandomgal · 5 months

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Sweet Pea- Grease Is The Word

You’re The The One That I Want

“Guys I have to leave in a bit” I say looking at the clock in Pops diner

“Oh come on YN you can’t leave yet” Fangs says holing Kevin’s hand

“She’s going cuz Sweet Pea ain’t here” Cheryl says

“No I’m not. I didn’t come here to see him”

“What you come for then?” Cheryl frowns

“I came because I was invited” I reply crossing my arms

“Cher I invited her” Toni says to her girlfriend

“I don’t know why. Isn’t Sweet Pea supposed to be like your best friend”

“Yeah but I like YN”

“Oh you do?”

“Jesus Cheryl what’s gotten into you this evening?” Betty asks

“Nothing”

“I think I’m just gonna go” I say standing up from the booth. As I do I see Sweet Pea walking into the diner “yeah definitely going to go”

“YN!” He says as I walk passed him and out the shop. What the hell do I do? I think as I make my way home. Yes I want to be with Sweet Pea, but we’re just 2 different kind of people.

That night all I can think of is how I’m, well me. Making my decision I phone up Cheryl and head over to her house the following morning

“So you want the boy” she says with her hands on her hips “let’s get started. Toni hand me a brush and my curlers we’ve got a lot of work to do”

“Hey!” I pout making Toni chuckle

“Cheryl takes fashion very seriously. So clothes wise what do you want to wear?”

“I wanna wear a Serpent’s Jacket” this stops them in their tracks. Toni and Cheryl look at each other then at me

“You’ll have to go through initiation”

“Which is?” I ask looking at Toni

“You can either choose the Serpant dance which is basically a strip tease or….”

“I’ll do it”

“No wait YN. You have to do it at the Whyte Wyrm” Toni looks at me worriedly “it will be in front of men 3 times our age”

“Wait” Cheryl says with a twinkle in her eye “does it have to be, or can it just be in front of us, Veronica Betty, Kevin and Fangs?”

“Well I guess there’s no rule against that”

“Then let’s do it!”

“Well if your sure”

“I am” I eagerly nod my head

“Let’s get you ready”.

“Hey Sweet Pea!” Toni shouts as she makes her way towards the boys at the fair. I’m hidden behind Kevin, Betty and Veronica “we’ve got a surprise for you” I then walk to the front where a shocked Sweet Pea looks me up and down

“YN? What… how? You look…”

“I know”

“Toni let you borrow her jacket?”

“Nope it’s mine. I did the dance”

“You… Toni you let her…”

“No not at the Wyrm. She did it in front of us”

“So your a Serpent now?”

“That’s is if you want me”

“Hell yeah I do” Sweet Pea then lifts me up and kisses my lips before putting me back down “will you be mine?”

“Yeah course” this time I’m the one to initiate the kiss

“Finally!” Fangs groans making everyone laugh.

#sweet pea x y/n #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x oc #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea #riverdale imagine #riverdale imagines

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tinystepsforward · 6 months

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i've still been keeping tabs on what's happening at automattic. a couple of things i've observed:

toni schneider (who is a man btw), the interim ceo, has been quite open with staff in ways that mean they generally seem relieved to have him leading the company for now. i've heard people speak optimistically about him from all parts of the spectrum (by which i mean: staff who are trans tumblr users right through to staff who are "anti-woke" or whatever and were absolutely intolerable to work with as a trans person), which seems like... a good sign? maybe.

this relative transparency includes things like weekly updates from an executive level, as well as openly saying that he did have to directly speak to matt and encourage him to, you know, stop posting.

matt is back to his usual milquetoast blogging, and replied to someone on mastodon about the AI issue saying he'd comment on it when he's back in may, so whatever toni said to him seems to have worked for him keeping out of it for now.

people have no idea what it's gonna look like when matt's back.

the best case scenario is that schneider manages to create a significant enough boost in morale and productivity that "it'd be nice if we just kept him" becomes a sentiment that isn't held just by the rank and file. i don't know how likely that is, but there's a sense of cautious hope and of making the most of this reprieve from matt's increasingly erratic decisions no matter what.

the tumblr staff statement was approved by schneider and hr, so i am also hopeful they won't face repercussions. what they said might seem pretty mild from the outside, or carefully worded, but it's pretty clear to me and to most people who've worked at companies like this that it's a pretty bold one.

i'll quote a friend:

keep reminding the more histrionic elements out there that: 1. there really are trans people, INCLUDING TRANS WOMEN, in the fight here. 2. we don't have nearly the power they seem to think we do. 3. we're fighting anyway. was the statement we wrote enough? fuck no. does it fix everything? fuck no. but we literally called out the CEO, and got the greenlight for it from the interim CEO. i don't know where this will end, but that's not nothing.

i'm not sure automattic deserves the immense honor of having this many of its brave, dedicated trans staff put effort into trying to make it better. but it has them, and it would be wise to do its best to keep them. so many of us — even me, even now — believe in the ideals that drew us to the work automattic does, and hope that it can return to them. we will see!

other things i want to say:

the wellbeing of my friends on staff is my priority. i am interested primarily in their safety, and won't pressure them to give me goss. the ways i've spoken publicly are already pretty scary to people who might worry about retaliation against them just for being known to be my friend.

this is a regular personal blog. i'll keep updating if there's shit to update about, but i also don't work at automattic any more (thank fuck, again), have a life, and am not interested in declaring matt my specific nemesis or otherwise acting purely out of spite.

some of youse really deeply do not understand companies, the internet, generative ai, or pretty much anything else i've said. that's okay — big tech in particular is fucked up on purpose bc it benefits those in power to have it be incomprehensible! but maybe it's not a great position from which to get mad at me specifically or at staff for idk not personally assassinating matt.

got tired of blocking transphobes so i've turned anons off. i'll probably flick them back on eventually.

#tony muses #tumblr meta #<- just for my blog's tag search

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sosa2imagines · 10 months

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I had my dance and now I'm where I belong. Part 2

----------------------------------------------------- Warnings- Angst, cheating and little bit of fluff ----------------------------------------------------- Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 -----------------------------------------------------

After you left the tower, you checked into a hotel and once you enter the room you called Nat who along with Wanda and Sam were waiting for your call. When you were done with the call loneliness crept in slowly you started to freak out and the emotions you were hiding since the confrontation till now all came out, you dropped to the floor and cried your heart out. After a week you got the news the happy couple made it official how one cheater got another cheater you told your reflection in the mirror smiling for a bit then crying again. It was true what you told yourself Bucky does not know that Sharon had cheated on Steve and that's the reason he broke up with her and you had promised him not to tell anyone. All of your dreams crushed and thrown out the widow because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. Every single day was painful the hurt was too much years of love gone just like that.

One month later. "Hello?" "Friday where is everyone?" "Captain Rogers welcome back Mr. Barnes is in his room and the others are in the common room" "Thank you Friday" Steve was nervous he knew everyone would bombard him with questions on his decision to leave and come back again but at the moment it all can wait he needed to see his love his best friend you first he wanted to tell you everything even the dance he had. So he rushed to Bucky's room knowing you would be there but god he was so wrong he wished he had knocked on the door but he didn't and because of that he was dumbfounded by the view "Bucky? Sharon? what's going what the hell why are you guys Sharon for god sake put your shirt on" Sharon roll her eyes. "Where is Y/n?, Bucky tell me dammit" Bucky was scared of what Steve's reaction would be so he went with the little white lie "We broke up I'm with Sharon now" "What? Broke up? why? you guys were so good, why did you guys break up? And Sharon no Buck you are hiding something" "Steve you have no rights to interfere in our lives they broke up deal with it" Sharon was quick to answer. "I'm not talking to you so shut up!" Steve yelled. "Don't yell Steve, she is right you left us ok you don't know what happened so accept this." Steve was shocked by Bucky's behavior he had never seen Bucky standing up for you like he was for Sharon he immediately knew something was wrong he left the couple behind and went to search others. "Where is Y/n?" "Steve?" Sam rushed to hug his friend, Nat was teary eyes seeing her bestfriend back. "Steve you are back" she hugged him as much as Steve was happy to see them and grateful for them welcoming him back he couldn't stop thinking about you. "Nat please I'm sorry if I'm sounding rude" Nat shook her head finishing his sentence for him "Y/n left for some alone time Steve, she was suffocating here" "Yeah man everyday she was dying here" "What happened after I left?" Sam and Nat told him everything Bucky did and how Tony does not fully know the truth that you hid for Steve's hard work of making him trust Bucky. Steve's heart broke even in pain you didn't think ill of Bucky. "Where is she?" "I'll give you the hotel address and don't worry we let her leave only on the condition she calls us everyday" "Thank you Nat if she calls don't tell her I'm coming to her" Nat nod at him and Steve left for you.

Your head was a mess, your emotions were all over the place you spent the nights crying asking yourself why. You did call the team daily not wanting to go back soon, you locked yourself in your hotel room trying to wrap your head around the entire situation. The love you had just went down the drain like nothing. You had your doubts but we're blinded by his love and now paying the price it's been almost a month you barely ate and slept cold showers did not felt cold. You were lost in your own world when someone knocked on the door and thank god you opened the door you were shocked eyes glossy as soon as you whispered "Steve" he was quick to hold you in his arms as you cried and fisted his shirt, when Steve saw the state you were in his heart broke. He couldn’t help but feel guilty after all he was the one to introduce you two only for you to suffer. "Why did he do this to me Steve why?" Steve kept rubbing your back to comfort you "Everything hurts Steve please make it stop take my heart out I can't take it no more Steve please help me stop this pain" Steve's heart broke completely he blamed himself if he had not left you would have not been in this situation but that does not mean he didn't learn from his mistake seeing you beg him to stop your pain Steve silently promise to protect you and heal your heart he swear he will not let anyone hurt you not even his best friend Bucky on that day Steve decided you are his and when the time is right you will know about his love but for now you needed your best friend and that's what he was going to be. After crying for hours in Steve's arms he finally managed to put you to sleep Steve's own eyes were teary he was angry at Bucky, angry at himself he was facing back and forth until his eyes fell on your personal diary he knew it was wrong but he had to know so respectfully he skipped all the parts and just saw the last few pages he was fuming in rage how dare Bucky pack your bags and tell you to leave the audacity to lie to him, he put the diary back in its place and texted Nat to come over. As soon as Nat came Steve told her to look after you and he will be back quickly. Steve for the first time broke traffic rules drove like a madman he literally ran up to were Bucky was and as soon as he saw him Steve's mind flashed your image the hurt and pain you were in the words in your diary he was fuming in rage "You bloody liar" with that Steve punched Bucky hard on the face, Bucky was shocked Steve punched him again and again calling him liar and a cheat Sharon didn't dare interfere Sam had to hold the captain back only after Sam talked about you Steve stopped but not before warning Bucky for the last time " You stay away from her and mark my words Bucky you will regret this" All Bucky could say was sorry and how he is happy with Sharon, Steve chuckled at his stupidity "one cheater got another cheater no wonder you two make quite the couple" with that Steve left a very confused Bucky alone with Sharon in the tower.

As for Steve Rogers he had his dance and now he is where he belongs that is with you and the first step towards your happiness was to shift you from the hotel to his apartment in Brooklyn time to take you home.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------(to be continued, also thank you all you guys are awesome lots of love to you all, initially it was supposed to be a one shot but it turned out into a series the next part might be last depends on how the story goes take care and feedback is appreciated 😊❤️) ----------------------------------------------------- Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

----------------------------------------------------- TAGLIST- @vicmc624 @sapphirebarnes @cjand10 -----------------------------------------------------

#chris evans characters #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader angst #steve rogers x reader fluff #bucky x reader

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talesofadragon · 11 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐞

Synopsis: Steve Rogers was looking forward to Halloween. Not because of the costumes, the tricking and the treating, or Tony’s meticulous party planning—he was looking forward to spending some quality time with his Y/N. But a cozy night in with pumpkin spice lattes and that Halloween Town movie he needed to catch up on was soon abandoned when the mysterious house on Easton Avenue called for his attention.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Civilian!Reader

Genre: SMUT | Fluff | Some scary stuff

Warnings: Unprotected sex, P in the V, oral sex, temperature play, sex toys, kegel balls, blindfolds, bondage, pussy slapping, object insertion, deepthroating, shoe humping, degradation, dacryphilia, sex tapes, mirror sex, breast fucking, orgasm denial, edging, squirting, overstimulation, should I go on? It’s shameful sex, basically.

Word Count: 12K

A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN, FOLKS! This is my very first time doing a kinktober special, but I really wanted to submit an entry to @jtargaryen18's Halloween Special! So, I hope you all like this. And forgive me, because I just finished it, and didn't triple-check for typos. Enjoy 🧡🎃

All Masterlists | Steve Rogers Masterlist

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐘 𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 of red surged from within the fifth house on Easton Avenue, sending a chaotic ripple across the entire neighborhood. At least, that’s how you pictured it in your head. That house had a vicious and ominous aura, topped with a polarizing effect that both dared you to come closer and urged you to stay away.

Something about that house wasn’t right ever since its residents claimed it a week ago. It had been a solid year since you moved to Brooklyn to live with Steve, and as far as you knew, that old and frail house had been vacant for the better half of seven years. Yet now, all so suddenly, someone decided it was the most miraculous idea in the world to step through the broken fence and make do with whatever crumbs the beaten structure had to offer—with little regard or effort at fixing it.

“What in the name of God are you doing?”

Lost in the abstract aura of your neighbor’s house, Steve had crept up on you, and you were none the wiser. You whipped your head to the back, hands firmly clutching the binoculars. It was not a sound decision on your behalf because Steve’s majestic blue-green eyes were now tenfold bigger, almost as if they were about to devour you whole.

You shrieked, fingers still gripping the binoculars for reasons unknown. Your startled expression made Steve stiffen and look around.

“Why are you screaming?” he asked, taking the binoculars away from your face. His eyebrows furrowed slightly when he caught the letter “A” engraved on the side. “Did you take these from my mission bag, Y/N?”

You sheepishly gazed up at him, giving him your best pout. Steve didn’t particularly mind if you rummaged through his things, but the reason you lived on Easton Avenue and not at the Avengers Compound was that he tried to keep you away from his “alter ego,” as you liked to call it. So, snooping through his mission bag might have contradicted the boundaries you had previously set.

“I was birdwatching,” you blurted out without a second thought.

Steve regarded you skeptically. “Birdwatching,” he repeated, his tone heavy with doubt.

“Yes. This time of the year brings very colorful birds.”

He didn’t respond, only subtly arching an eyebrow. Placing the binoculars on the nearby couch, his slender and long fingers pushed the curtain aside—enough for him to peek out the window. And because Steven Grant Rogers was God’s perfect human creation, he didn’t need even a monocle to catch sight of the fifth townhouse down your street.

“Yeah, you’re right. That ashen plumage does splendidly reflect the beauty of this season.”

“At least you are a gentleman enough to feign belief,” you remarked, indignantly rolling your eyes.

Knowing what was going to follow, you picked up the binoculars and headed to your shared bedroom. But Steve was right behind you with the same retort he used when he caught you so much as thinking about that house. “Dove, you need to stop investing so much energy into that house. There’s nothing wrong about it.”

“Everything is wrong about it, Steve!” you defended, picking up his bag from the closet and putting the binoculars back. “It’s creepy and morbid, and I can’t believe anyone would willingly choose to settle in it.”

“It’s a nice house. I’m sure, with some attention, anyone would want to settle in it.”

“Well, that’s the thing! Why aren’t the new owners doing anything about it? It’s sitting there like the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. The only missing part is the werewolf.”

Steve looked somewhat perplexed and unconvinced. His lips parted then closed until he was ready to speak again. “Werewolves don’t exist.” Of course, he’d focus on that part. “And, maybe the owners haven’t had the chance to refurbish the house yet.”

“That’s a great suggestion, Stevie! Why don’t we go and lend a hand.”

It was not, in fact, a great suggestion at all. What it was though is a ruse.

You didn’t give him the time to answer, immediately bolting outside the room. You knew you had him in a corner because Steve Rogers might’ve been a master strategist, a renowned captain, and a fearless leader, but you could always uncover the cracks in his façade, and you were certain something about this house didn’t sit right with him either. He just didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“Uhm, maybe you should sit this one out, dove. You’ve never been good with a paintbrush.”

“Maybe so,” you replied with your back still to him. You didn’t need heightened senses to catch the shy curse that left his mouth. “But I’m good at baking. I can offer the new neighbors some pumpkin pie while you help them with the paint. You’re the artist, after all, baby.”

Steve caught your wrist before you could open the fridge to “search” for the ingredients for your pie.

“You mean like right now?”

“Yes! We may not be able to do much, but maybe enough to not have the trick-and-treaters scurry away at the sight of that house.”

Releasing your wrist from his grasp, you reached for the fridge. Steve’s veiny hand collided with the metal door, forcing it to close. With his hands on your hips, he spun you around and placed your body against the fridge.

“Y/N.” The coldness of the fridge’s metal door against your fingertips did little to appease the flames burning in your soul. God damn Steve Rogers and the effect he had on you. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?”

“…I hate that house.”

“The nice house down our street?”

“The morbid one that looks like Azkaban.”

“Aha!” You joiced, finger digging into Steve’s chest. “I knew I wasn’t the only one who found that creepy old building ominous.”

“Of course not. I’ve been pestering Tony for over a week, trying to find out who bought that place and see if they’re a security threat,” Steve admitted.

You tilted your head to the side, lips pursing in thought. “I mean, I don’t like the house. But is it a security threat?”

Sensing the shift in your voice, Steve’s hand found purchase in your hair, twirling a strand in his index finger. It was a familiar habit he had developed since you’d gotten together. Partly comforting and partly grounding—for both of you.

“According to Tony, it isn’t. But, you know me. Your safety is always at the forefront of my mind. And I don’t like how that house is so close to us.”

“Me neither,” you replied, now playing with Steve’s hands. You traced the veins protruding from his skin, marveling at the difference between his large hands and your petite ones. “But with you here, I don’t care about a silly old house.”

“So, can we forget about your little stakeout missions and go back to planning our private party this evening?” Steve smirked, tugging you closer by your waist.

“It was one time!”

“For five days.”

“Shut up,” you said with feigned indignation. “Or else no private party. I’ll force you to attend Tony’s.”

Steve’s eyes widened at the mention of Tony’s infamous party. This year, the theme was something along the lines of "Halloween of Doom." And since Steve wasn't a fan of the usual wild parties Tony would throw every chance he got, he wasn't looking forward to the Halloween shenanigans.

Just as you took his hand in yours and pulled him toward the hall, a sharp tap against your window sounded across the room. Bemused, you turned to Steve. He immediately stepped in front of you, keeping an ear out to identify the source of the sound.

Incessant in its pursuit of attention, the sound boomed louder. Steve motioned for you to stay where you were while he investigated. Five seconds later, he called your name, albeit hesitantly.

“Y/N,” he said, gaze unwavering ahead. “I think all that birdwatching you did called the attention of an angry bird.”

“Is that an owl?” You hadn’t realized how loud your voice was until the owl in question shrieked behind the glass window. What the hell was an owl doing at your house?

“It looks like it,” Steve answered.

Neither of you tried to open the window, which agitated the owl. It ruffled its feathers and tapped the glass, clearly demanding entry. You studied the nocturnal creature, which obviously lacked a sense of orientation since you were nowhere near the evening. Something on its leg caught your eye. You gasped, pointing at it. “There’s a rolled-up letter attached to its leg!”

The moment Steve noticed the letter, he rushed to open the window. The owl flew in, forcing you to step a couple of feet back—you were a sane person who didn’t go out of their way to look for owls, let alone ones that appeared in broad daylight.

Steve plucked the letter from its leg and opened it. “It’s an invitation.”

“For what?”

“A Halloween feast,” he said, eyeing the letter suspiciously. “At House 5 on Easton Avenue.” It was the same morbid house you two had been discussing.

You carefully approached Steve, mindful of the owl on your coffee table. You took the letter in your hands, reading it aloud.

We’ve Caught Your Unblinking Eye Through the Ashen Veil We Know You Are Curious. We Feel It in Our Veins.

To Uncover the Macabre Truths Shrouded by Our Shadows Join the Halloween Feast Tonight

And Embrace a Chilling Night at Doom’s Manor House 5 - Easton Avenue - 9:00 PM

“This is worse than our phones when they display targeted ads because of whatever they heard us talking about,” you exclaimed, hands tightly clutching the piece of paper.

Steve’s eyes widened significantly, pure horror crossing his features. “Our phones do that?”

"Yeah," you replied with a matter-of-fact tone. You've most likely added one more item to Steve Rogers' “X Things I Hate About the Twenty-First Century” list. "They pick up on our search history too. So, maybe they'll know why that owl still hasn't left yet because it's starting to give me the creeps."

The owl with brown feathers and round yellow eyes hooted, hopping on the table and looking between you and Steve. It definitely did not like you.

“Maybe it wants something?” Steve guessed.

“Like what? Dollar bills or a treat in exchange for its postal services?” you scoffed. The owl wasn’t privy to your cynicism, but you still crept closer to Steve in fear of it deciding to attack you or something.

“A confirmation, maybe?” The owl hooted, seemingly agreeing with Steve. You quickly grabbed his arm, giving it a tight squeeze. “Dove, I don’t think it’s taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

As if on the same page, the owl moved away from you both and flew to the outside of the house. You and Steve just stared at the open window, House 5 right there, teasingly close.

Steve was on high alert. His fingers dug into the edges of the wooden window as he fixed his eyes on the mysterious house down Easton Avenue. You’d think that there would be bustling activity considering the owners had only recently moved in, but he never saw anyone walk in or out of that house. He didn’t even recall catching sight of anyone by the window.

And although the Halloween feast was barely ten minutes away from starting, no one had approached the house yet.

“Dove,” Steve called, pushing away from the window and adjusting his suit. “I’m gonna head out now. I know that Tony and the others overlooked the invite and didn’t want to interfere, but to be on the safe side—”

He was about to tell you to activate your security system and connect to the emergency line of the Avengers Initiative if he didn’t update you within twenty minutes of entering that house. But his words were stuck on the tip of his tongue when you walked into view.

“Why are you wearing your stealth suit?” you asked, almost glumly. Steve just blinked, looking completely flabbergasted, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I can ask you the same thing.” He pointed at your outfit, his tongue poking out and wetting his lips. “Why do you have a stealth suit on? Where did you even get one?”

The saccharine surprise in Steve’s tone fueled your heart with desire. You chewed on your lower lip, twirling a strand of your hair to draw Steve’s attention to your ponytail. His breath hitched, his eyes running a marathon across the expanse of your neck. You relished the lust that crossed over his features when you swayed your hips and sauntered to his side.

“Do you like it?” came your ardent whisper. Steve’s hands circled your hips, fingers burying in the leather of your suit, squeezing your side in affirmation.

You loved Halloween, making it your October resolution to find the best costume. But it was always hard to find one, considering there were so many options to choose from, and you were as decisive as a Gemini. After some time, an Avengers stealth suit popped up during your search, one which sinfully complimented your ass and curves. So you knew, right away, that getting your hands on it was a must if it would drive Steve crazy.

“Why are you wearing it, dove?” Steve asked once more.

Innocently batting your eyelashes at him, you answered, “Because we’re going to the Halloween feast.”

“Absolutely not.” And there it was. “I told you, I’m going in to check it. Alone. It’s a mission, Y/N. And you stray away from those.”

“It’s not an official mission if Tony didn’t approve it.”

“I’m the Head of the Avengers.”

“You’re Head Strategist, yes. But we both know that if Tony and Fury don’t give the green light, you can’t treat whatever this is as a mission.”

You had him there, and you knew it. While Steve Rogers had a knack for defending any argument and finding a way to assert his stance, this time he faltered for an answer, and only managed to say, “You’re still not going.”

“Don’t you think it’s going to look a tad bit suspicious if you walk into that house alone? And with your suit on?”

“No,” Steve shrugged. “Besides, that’s why I’m leaving my shield here.”

“And your common sense.” If his glare was any indication, he didn’t appreciate your commentary. “If I go with you, it would look like we’re genuinely interested in their stupid feast. You can snoop around while I stick to the activities.”

“That’s too dangerous.”

“So, why do you assume I’d let you go there on your own?”

“Because I’m enhanced, Y/N.”

“And I’m a SHIELD agent for the night, Steve.”

“And you judge me about my common sense?”

“Steve,” you stressed, catching his attention. “If that house is not as safe as the Avengers claim, I am not letting you go there by yourself. You can either go against me and leave me here, alone, well aware that our loony neighbors are watching. Or, you take me with you. It’s your call.”

It’s been yours since the beginning, and you’re not the least bit surprised when Steve mumbled something incoherent before he ushered you out of the house.

The neighboring houses, much like your own, were modestly decorated for the occasion. The Barbers, your neighbors from across the street, had a couple of skeleton bodies strewn across the yard and fake bats hanging from the large tree in their backyard. The Adlers went with carved pumpkins and flickering lanterns, which created a warm, inviting ambiance. Meanwhile, the Hansens had embraced the theme with scattered tombstones and heinous, life-sized witches tending to their boiling cauldrons.

Although the fifth house on Easton Avenue was barren and devoid of even a string light, it stood as the most intimidating and menacing of them all. The sinister atmosphere grew more palpable when you and Steve approached. The wind carried an unsettling chill, and the ancient trees lining the path creaked like ghostly sentinels. It was as if the house was an isle of malevolence adrift in a sea of darkness.

“Why is it the only house with fog surrounding it?” Steve noted. You both stood by a withered fence, the imposing structure casting long, foreboding shadows.

“I don’t know,” you replied, glancing around nervously. “Maybe it’s just a fog machine, but this place is terrifying enough as it is. It doesn’t need any more decorations.”

With a heavy breath, Steve stepped forward, the fog swirling around his boots. You watched in apprehension as the entrance loomed ahead. Steve paused for a moment, turning back to you. His eyes, usually full of determination, now held a flicker of doubt. “I have a bad feeling about this, Y/N.”

The atmosphere turned even more chilling when, suddenly, a low, dissonant hum echoed from the depths of the house, making your hair stand on end. It was as if the very walls themselves held their breath in anticipation.

Without breaking his gaze from the looming house, Steve extended his hand toward you. You clasped onto it, anchoring yourself to this distorted reality. He spared a glance your way, one that was brief in time yet abundant in intensity, and you responded with a nod, your nerves on edge. With a deep breath, Steve raised his clenched fist to knock on the door, but before he could make contact, it swung open on its own.

You both cautiously crossed the threshold, never releasing each other's hands. You were met with a dimly lit room, paintings strewn across its walls, each with a calculating pair of eyes narrowing on you.

"Welcome, Steve Rogers and Y/N Y/L/N," a commanding voice boomed, rattling the portraits on the wall. You jumped in your shoes, trying to catch a glimpse of the source. You were left bewildered, staring at the void that surrounded you. "Welcome to a chilling night at Doom's Manor!"

You didn’t have time to ask questions—you barely had a chance to think before the front door swung shut and the blinds closed, engulfing the sinister house in even more darkness.

“What the hell?” you cried as an oppressive silence descended. It was like you were sucked into a black hole with only Steve’s touch tethering you to earth. “Steve! Turn on your flashlight.”

“I don’t have a flashlight, Y/N,” Steve tersely replied.

“You have a phone, which has a built-in flashlight. Turn it on,” you urged, your voice tinged with desperation. “Then we can discuss why you brought a gun and no flashlight to this place!”

You heard him groan in frustration, palms smacking against the leather of his suit as he fished out his phone. He pressed it, fingers less than graceful when it came to touchscreens. For a moment, you thought he had forgotten how to unlock the device. Until he said, “My battery’s dead.”

“Our brilliant Head Strategist venturing on a mission without the means to communicate! What kind of expert overlooks that?” you chastised, fishing out your own phone. You tapped it repeatedly, but the screen remained blank. A sinking feeling washed over you as you pressed the side button, yet it refused to light up. “I swear it was charged,” you whispered in disbelief.

“I’m afraid that your phones won’t work here,” the same disorienting voice said.

Unexpectedly, a blinding white radiance cut through the darkness, forcing both you and Steve to shield your eyes. As the light faded, it started to flicker intermittently, weaving through the walls and mingling with the torchlights.

Despite all the courage you tried to manifest, your voice brokenly whispered, “Steve, is this a bad time to tell you that I was never fond of haunted houses as a kid?”

The lights were still flickering when Steve ripped his hand from your firm grasp. Your breath hitched, thinking the worst. But he was still there next to you, eyeing the door. “No one is, dove. And I’m not forcing you to like ‘em now.”

With all the super soldier strength coursing through his veins, Steve lunged at the door, attempting to force it open. It broke your heart to see it stubbornly clenching its hinges no matter how many times Steve flung himself against it.

The mysterious voice tutted, inundating your being with fear. You held your breath, praying that Steve would get you both out of here fast.

“You should learn to treat even inanimate objects kindly, Captain Rogers. Or does all that strength chip away at your humanity?”

Ignoring the voice, Steve continued his assault on the door. What he didn’t expect was an incorporeal force that lunged at him without warning. The unadulterated strength in its grip sent him hurling through the air until he crashed to the ground with a loud groan.

“Steve!” you called apprehensively.

“Should I have warned you not to do that? Thought it was self-explanatory?” the same voice commented.

You heard your heels clicking against the tiles before you could even think about moving. Steve was rubbing at his temple, eyes forcibly closed after the fall. You were almost by his side when you felt a hand grab your hair and fling you into the air.

You shrieked, the quiver in your voice igniting Steve’s anger. He raced forward, arms stretched out. But unlike the pale, ghastly form that manhandled you, tangible vines stemmed from the recesses of the house’s tiles and walls, aiming at Steve.

“Get off him!” you commanded as you kicked your feet and threw a punch. Your forceful gestures vaporized into the thin air, torpid against the vice grip of the spirit before you. You gasped hard when the misty form wrapped itself around your neck—constricting the air around and molding you and the wall as one.

“Y/N!” Steve grunted, desperately trying to pry himself out of the vines’ steel grip. “Hold on. I-I’ll get it o-off.”

The morbid atmosphere was getting worse as dark spots clung to your vision’s periphery. The incorporeal assault remained relentless, slamming you once more against the wall. As you forced your eyes to meander, searching for a solution, you focused on antique torches, each with a blue flame in its grasp.

The same torch hung from the wall you were trapped against. With a growl and a hell lot of hope that Ghostbusters had taught you something useful, you snatched the torch and incinerated the elusive monster.

One less than graceful descent later, you braced yourself against the floor with a thud. Steve was still struggling against Mother Nature’s prodigal offspring. He’d gotten a dagger out, but the more he cut through the vines, the more they multiplied.

You staggered your way to him just as the plant lunged at his face. “Don’t even think about it!” you warned, attacking the plant with the iridescent flames. Steve inhaled sharply as the vines, which were wrapped around him, turned into ash.

“Dove, I don’t know if I should be in awe or fear of what just happened,” Steve admitted as you helped him up. You were too busy inspecting his body for injuries to answer.

“We need to get out of here,” you said in one breath. “This place isn’t safe.”

Steve was about to answer when the eerie voice interjected, “Safe is boring.”

You sneered, wanting so badly to punch whoever was callously commenting. Steve grabbed you tightly and maneuvered his way through the house. Luckily, nothing else attacked you two as you navigated the narrow corridors except for the thick dust and the cobwebs.

Steve had found a door, which he immediately opened. As he stepped into the room, large and foreboding, a sense of apprehension gripped him. Shadows danced along the walls, playing tricks on his vision, while a musty scent of decay lingered in the air.

You both tried to find a way out, but to your utter horror, the same door you had opened to run into this room disappeared.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Steve asked, bewildered. He ran his hands over the wall, fingers tracing the edges of the now-invisible door. “How is that even possible?”

You shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t know. But the werewolf would have been better.”

“Well, that could be arranged,” the mysterious voice announced.

In hindsight, you should’ve thought twice before giving your two cents. But how were you supposed to know that the sentient house didn’t only manipulate nightmares but could also manifest them?

Steve turned toward you, distress visibly carved across his forehead. He reached out for his gun just as a violent wind attacked the isolated room. Your hair flailed, falling victim to the assault.

You tightened your hold on the torch despite the wind’s ministrations. It was thrashing within the borders of the room, incessantly clawing at you and Steve. The bright azure flames wavered from where they were perched on your torch, despite all your attempts at keeping them tamed. They tumbled down and crashed into the ground.

The moment the flames met the tiles, they burst into a fit of undiluted anger. The blue orbs separated, each tracing its brittle path and leaving destruction in its wake. The flames circled you and Steve in a dance of tantalizing grace—rising beyond the surface and falling back into the ground’s arms.

You and Steve were each pushed to one side. You stood there, him with a fully loaded gun and you with an empty torch, silently watching as the translucent flames birthed a werewolf.

“I don’t think the situation can get any worse,” you pointed out, taking care to not step into the line of fire. Literally. “So, is it too late to ask for a vampire instead? At least we have a stake.”

Steve looked appalled by the suggestion. “This isn’t the Edmond-Jason debate, Y/N! Both options are worse for wear!”

The werewolf wasn’t fond of Steve’s vernacular; at least, that’s why you assumed since it decided to lunge at him first. You slumped back just as Steve ducked his head and rolled to the side. The beast was relentless in its movement, clawing and growling at your soldier—canines salivating with excitement, eager to dip into flesh.

“I know it’s not the time, but it’s Edward and Jacob! And what I meant is that we at least have a stake! A viable weapon against a vampire. What means of defense do we have against a translucent werewolf?!”

“The same thing we have against a translucent vampire,” Steve grunted, firing three consecutive shots at the luminous creature. All three of them pierced his hollow frame, leaving him unscathed. “Nothing!”

Despite the fear that inundated your body, you still looked for a weapon to fight the beast with. Unfortunately for you, the room was desolate with nothing but mold and fractured walls holding it on their shoulders. Steve was actively trying to retain its attention, steering it clear from your path, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to last any longer.

“Well, maybe the house can conjure a non-translucent vampire,” you thought aloud. Truthfully, you weren’t really thinking straight, but what other choices did you have at the moment?

Needless to say, Steve disagreed. “Vampires aren’t real!”

“Well, what do you know?” you shrieked, all modicum of common sense out of the non-existent window. “There is a Spider-Man and an Ant-Man. Who's to say there is not a.. a Bat-Man that’s willing to make this situation a little less complicated!” The wolf finally caught your voice. It growled as if to show its dissatisfaction at having to hear you speak, craning its head and baring its teeth when its silver eyes landed on you. “Mysterious house, please!”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

If you could take a wild guess, you’d say the werewolf wasn’t particularly fond of the creepy voice. That, or it was crestfallen at the idea of losing its chew toys.

Its blue glow intensified, switching from deceitful calm to voracious hunger. Your heart hammered in your chest, assaulting your ribcage as it sensed the looming danger. You tried to step away, but the wolf spied on your meek attempt. It prowled, ferocious and murderous in its pursuit.

Just as you raised your arms to shield yourself from him, Steve’s body collided with yours. “Y/N!” his scream ricocheted across the walls.

Was it so vehemently loud? You wondered. Or were your ears easily susceptible to noise?

As soon as Steve’s arms wrapped around you, you fell gracelessly into the void. The blue of the wolf fused with the paleness of the room, making a torpedo of vivid, interloping colors swirl before your eyes. The fall was like a dwindling spiral—long, endless, and tiring. And then you landed somewhere more stale; much more dark.

“Y/N!” Your name was the first thing you heard and the light that pulled you from darkness’ heavy lull. Hands roamed your body, gentle yet firm, unrelenting despite the groan that escaped your throat. “Y/N, please. I need to know you’re okay. Tell me that you weren’t hurt.”

You lifted your head, now aware that you were lying on Steve’s chest. The perilous haze only barely dissipated once you opened your eyes. “I’m okay. Are you?” you asked, eyes raking over Steve’s figure to see if he had been hurt in that fight. Besides his frightened and concerned eyes, he looked alright.

A long breath escaped his pink lips. His large hand cradled your face, magically bringing your pulse back to a languid pace. “As long as you’re alright, I’m fine. But I’ll be better once we get out of here.”

You stood up, holding your hand out to Steve, which he gratefully took. Lacing your fingers together, you carefully examined your surroundings, noting the hollow room you were in. Once again devoid of light, air, and a way out.

“How are we gonna get out?”

“Through that door.” By now, your senses had been attuned to the house’s tricks, so you weren’t jostled by the resounding echoes of the mysterious voice. True to its words, a large blue door materialized at the far end of the hallway. It rattled against its hinges, almost as if something was trying to break free on the other side. “Better hurry up, angel wings. Or else you’ll miss it.”

The voice dissolved softly like snowflakes giving away to the sun. And yet, its resolve bellowed across the room, the walls and ground shattering against its whispers.

“Maybe the vampires weren’t such a bad idea after all,” Steve remarked. You knew his Captain's brain was on overdrive, actively searching for the best escape route. But you knew it was there, right in front of you. So, mustering up all the courage you had in you, you tugged Steve’s hand and bolted toward the blue door.

The walls wailed, angered at your choice. They began to move, closing in on you at a menacing speed. Steve pulled you closer, almost molding both your bodies into one. He gained momentum, and your feet were about to give up from the unbridled force of his movements.

The walls were at a measurable distance, and you couldn’t believe you’d made it unharmed this far. Steve reached out, trying to push the silver loop that would open the door. But you should’ve known better than to trust the mysterious house. Of course, it wasn’t going to make it easy.

“Of course, I wasn’t going to make it easy,” the voice parrotted the words inside your head.

“What do you want?” Steve seethed, looking over his shoulders as the walls picked up their pace.

“O Captain! My Captain! To enter Doom’s lair, you must first answer my question.”

“What question?”

You heard someone clear their throat, and you could’ve sworn the bastard was smirking before it answered,

“Forged by fears and entangled in thoughts,

Within the breadth of darkness, I reside.

Devoid of soul, I grasp control,

In my distorted mist, your will subsides.

I am concealed within deceit and unseen with eyes,

Tell me, soldier, who am I?"

“Son of a bitch!”

“Language, Captain. And that’s not the answer.”

Your feet quivered, bouncing in place. Steve had lost his patience, now alternating between throwing answers and attempting to knock the door down. He was spewing some more worthless answers while you stared at the walls. Barely 10 inches separated you from your ultimate demise, and nothing but a correct answer would save you from this situation. Despite your fears, you took a deep breath, knowing you needed to answer that question. Now.

“Nightmare!” you yelled. Steve had stopped the assault on the door, looking at you with a perplexed gaze. “The answer to the riddle is a nightmare.”

A weighty silence gripped the helm of the foreboding atmosphere, lingering until the awaited response finally emerged. “That is correct.”

The locks turned, the door creaking as it offered you the solace you’ve been so desperately seeking. Steve practically pushed you inside, following you soon after. The door closed shut behind you, ushering you into a misty room. The wind picked up once again, and before you, a cloaked figure emerged. Its head was down, edges of the onyx fabric it wore blowing with every single caress of the wind.

“Welcome,” the figure said in the same gruff and deep voice that you’ve been hearing since you entered the house. “Welcome to a chilling night at Doom’s Manor!”

“Who the hell are you?” you inquired agitatedly just as Steve ordered the figure to lift its cloak.

The cloaked figure revealed its pallid hands, previously concealed. With a tantalizing motion, the fingers encircled the edge of the hood, slowly lifting it. Your eyes widened, mind barely comprehending what you saw. And before you know it, you and Steve were saying the same thing in the same affronted tone. “Tony?”

“Oh, god. You should’ve seen your faces!” Tony clapped his hands together, the force of his laughs making him bend down and clutch his knees.

As he did that, the creepy atmosphere eroded, mist evaporating to reveal the large room behind it. Contrary to the other areas within the establishment, the room was full of life and spacious, with neon lights and a large disco ball illuminating it. All of the Avengers were there, and you even spotted Peter Parker in an Iron Man costume tearing Bucky’s ear off with one of his stories. Judging from the number of waiters tending to the even bigger number of guests, you knew what you walked into.

“Did you seriously rent out a spooky house just so that you can throw a secret party in its basement?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No,” Tony huffed, seemingly offended by the absurdity of your claim. “I bought it.”

Behind you, Steve was rolling his eyes while you raked your fingers through your loose ponytail. You were never going to understand billionaires and their logic.

“I thought you were throwing a party at the Compound,” Steve finally spoke. And thank God he did before you ripped Tony a new one for the scare he’d just cost you. You were most certainly going to have him cover your health insurance for the next eon and the one after.

“I was. But then you bailed to play house with your girl—great costume, by the way, Y/N. We should talk to Fury about making you a SHIELD agent. And they say your boyfriend’s ass is America’s ass.”

“Tony!”

“What? Fine, don’t get jealous. You still are America’s ass but in a less sexy and more annoying way.”

“Would you just tell me what the hell was all this?”

“Man, if I knew all it would take me is Wanda’s freaky manipulation magic to get you to curse, I would’ve done that a long time ago.”

Feeling your headache on the verge of expanding, you put your hand on Steve’s arm and interceded, “It’s clear that you're high on mindlessness right now. So, once you’re down from the Tony Stark Clouds of Wonder, we’ll talk about you and your ridiculous behavior.”

“Geez Louise, you’re not dressed as a shield agent, but the female counterpart of Captain Stern over here.”

“At least I’m not one less nose away from looking like Voldemort,” you spat as you trudged toward the party, Steve a step behind you.

Tony scoffed, his voice softer compared to the blaring music. “I’m dressed as the Grim Reaper.”

“Yeah, well, your stick seems to have been lost somewhere up your ass!”

When you and Steve joined the party, you headed immediately toward the bar. You weaved your way across the dance floor, giving Sonic-dressed Pietro a quick wave and catching the eye of a disinterested Bruce in an Ultron costume.

Natasha was at the bar, dressed as a ballerina with a pink tutu and a lot of pearly pins in her hair. You shot her a questioning look, which quickly dissolved courtesy of the menacing glare in her eyes. ‘Don’t ask,’ she silently communicated, and you were content with sitting there on a surprisingly comfortable barstool instead of running away from a wolf.

“I can’t believe Tony did all of this?” Steve voiced out, shoulders hunched and laced with tension.

Natasha handed him a signature fix she’d just made, passing you your drink of choice. “It’s not just you two. He did it to plenty of people.”

“Like who?”

“Bucky and Sam,” Natasha replied to your question. “They couldn't answer the riddle, so they got stuck outside cursing at one another until Strange had enough of their arguing and portalled them in. They were pretty pissed. Thor made it out, thanks to Loki. He enjoyed it, though. Loki? Not so much. He turned into a snake and tried to bite Tony the moment he got to the other side of the door. Pepper and Happy are next.”

You shook your head at the thought. “She’s going to kill him.”

“Exactly. Which is why he has a surprise for her, under lock and key, somewhere around here.”

Dissatisfied by the piece of information, Steve snatched his drink and faced the other way. “Of course, he’d try to get out something without facing the repercussions.” His attention focused on Tony's exaggerated gestures as he iterated his previous morbid speech to the new guests.

Your eyes narrowed at Tony, thoughts errant as they dug up a hundred ways you could get back at him. Honestly, a part of you was willing to get Snake Loki to bite him or convince Dr. Strange to send him halfway across the universe. But you wanted to hit him where it hurts. You wanted him to feel the fear he inflicted on you and Steve, even if it was for just a moment. But Tony Stark didn’t fear anything. Well, apart from Starbucks running out of his favorite coffee and Pepper ignoring him.

“Pepper!” you shouted in glee. Steve and Natasha looked between you and the door, thinking that Pepper had already crossed all the obstacles and made it safely to the party. A crease lined up on their foreheads when they didn't find her there. “Nat, you don’t happen to have a key to that room, do you?"

At the drop of a hat, Natasha caught on to what you were saying. She shook her head but deviously smirked, green eyes flickering to the space behind you. “I don’t. But Wanda’s been regretting helping Stark on this. It shouldn’t be hard to convince her to help you get back at him.”

You jumped from your seat, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The intensity of your excitement and the tug on Steve’s arm made his drink fall and spill on the countertop. It took you a minute to find Wanda, who was sitting in the corner with downcast eyes, nursing a drink. She didn’t hesitate to help you, literally jumping at the chance.

Moments later, she led you to a room down a few halls and flicked her wrist, materializing a key and unlocking the door. Her 30s-inspired dress swung as her figure retreated. You looked at Steve, took a deep breath, and entered the room. But where you expected to find shopping bags, jewelry, or even a giant Iron Man teddy bear, what you found was something entirely different.

“Steve,” his name came out as a whisper. “Please don’t tell me I have to explain what I’m seeing. Because I don’t think I can.”

Your gaze was fixed on your surroundings, unable to be torn from anything else. You didn’t see Steve’s unblinking eyes or the tingles that danced across his fingers. It took him a while before he composed himself and answered you. “It’s okay. I already know.”

The room was red, a deep, rich shade of scarlet red. And if you had been careful enough to read the plaque by the room’s door, you would’ve figured it was Tony’s Halloween version of the red room. But what was beneath the mirrored ceiling, which quite frankly made you hyperventilate at the thought of the glass possibly falling on you while sleeping on that astonishingly spacious king-sized bed, was not a welcoming ballet class with metal bars and pink pointe shoes on the side. It was red walls with metal cuffs and chains attached to them and a widespread table with three silk blindfolds, floggers, ropes, and a whole lot of other things that made heat rise to your cheeks.

“We can’t destroy anything,” you breathed out with a voice that was too airy to be your own. “We can’t even hide anything with that wide selection Tony has. He’s not going to miss a blindfold, and he’ll just ask for another bottle of champagne.”

Steve didn’t answer, his mind preoccupied with something else. You couldn’t fault him; it was exceedingly hard to look at the room around you. And when you chanced a glance at the corners, you had to bite your lip at the sight of the cameras and lighting. Tony went all out, and to be honest, you didn’t know if this was his “genius-philanthropist” side, who was investing in a sexually healthy relationship with Pepper, or if it was his “billionaire-playboy” side, who decided there’s no shame in indulging in a variety of pleasures and give Pepper the liberty of choice.

You were so lost in thought, you were surprised to find Steve examining one of the cameras. He flicked on the lights and turned the camera to your side. Your brain finally registered his actions, and you were sure he didn’t know what he was doing since he barely even knew how to answer a video call. But before you could say anything, Steve beat you to it.

“Why destroy when we can take advantage?”

The camera turned on. You could tell from the twinkle of mischief in Steve’s irises that he caught the stagger in your pulse before you even did. He turned around, his sculpted and perfectly molded back replaced with the sight of his chiseled jaw. You gulped, blood rushing to your ears while shivers rushed down your spine.

You watched as Steve glided across the room, footsteps light and noiseless compared to the harsh speed of your heartbeats and the fray within your every vein. You wanted him. And he knew because with each step he took to get closer to you, you didn’t falter. You stood right where you were, waiting for him to devour you.

His cerulean eyes transformed, ebbing and flowing in a sea of blue and green. Until his waves crashed against your shore, and you met them somewhere in the middle.

“Steve.”

He didn’t reply. He inched closer even though there was no more room for his body to creep to, forcing his knee between your legs and giving you no other choice but to open them. You almost stumbled but quickly understood what he wanted.

It was like a dance. Every time Steve moved closer, you found yourself stepping back until your back hit the door, leaving nothing but locked gazes between you. With a bated breath, you studied Steve’s movements, whimpering as his left arm rose and nestled against your head. His palm was pressed against the cold door, whose color burned with desire. And somehow, Steve absorbed that hunger and set your entire body ablaze with it. Without a single touch.

“I can feel you,” he murmured on top of your lips, his velvety breath claiming rights to a first kiss. Steve leaned his body closer, almost engulfing you whole. His index and middle fingers made contact with your skin, and you swore you could’ve exploded. He traced the distance between your fingers and forearm, leisurely exploring the smooth surface that framed your veins. Involuntarily, your head craned, exposing your neck as he inched closer and closer, cheekily exhaling against your pulse point. “I can smell you,” he almost moaned, or maybe that was you. “You smell so tart, so fresh. So, deliriously scrumptious.”

“Steve,” this time, you did moan, implicitly begging him to touch you. You heard the lock on the door click, but you didn’t dare move your eyes.

In the next few seconds, Steve pulled the key out of the keyhole. You exhaled loudly, head banging against the wooden door when he moved the metal keys against your clothed heat. Sparks ignited in your soul as you began to take the fast lane to heaven, and Steve’s voice didn’t help the ache recede. It only fanned its flames.

“So wet.” He knew it without feeling it for himself. “So inviting.” He moved the key from your center to your navel and then to your sternum. You hadn’t realized how hot your body was until the keys touched your collarbone. It was a clash of hot and cold—an explosion of the senses with Steve’s breath hovering against your shoulders to add the final and delicious touch. With tantalizing grace, the key danced across your throat and chin, lifting your head to meet Steve’s breathless whisper, “So beautiful.”

Your eyes met, and you couldn't tell if his pupils were dilated or if his typically clear blue eyes were merely mirroring your own. He trapped your cheeks in his hold, applying the slightest bit of pressure on them. You couldn’t help but gaze at the camera that recorded the way Steve tapped the key against your lips, almost pushing it in.

Within the next second, his fingers loosened around the key, making it fall into the open space of your suit. You moaned aloud, the sound stretching over a minute when Steve stuffed his index and middle fingers in your mouth while bringing his prominent bulge closer to your heat. “My mistake, little dove.” He thrust forward, his clothed dick deliciously humping against your pussy. You whimpered around his fingers. “Be a pretty little girl, Y/N, and suck on my fingers while I get back that key.”

You nodded your head, vehemently following his order. Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked his fingers inside your throat—lost in the simple pleasures Steve Rogers was known to give.

He planted wet, demanding kisses on your neck and just below your ear, not too far from your earlobe but not close enough. His other hand caressed your cheek until it retreated and began to reach for the zipper on your suit. It was at the forefront, making it easy for Steve to find it and lower it down. His hips met yours just as you pushed his fingers away from your throat. You pulled them back in, keeping the rhythm going while your tongue swirled around his fingertips.

Your zipper lowered, slowly and placidly, yet there was nothing peaceful about the way Steve trailed his thumb across your exposed skin. A fire consumed you whole, a sinful moan escaping when he found the key and cupped your pussy, with it still in his hands. You could’ve cried then and there, and frankly, there were tears on the edge of your lashes. In your lustful delirium, you hadn’t noticed your hiked leg on Steve's waist, which was pushing him closer to your body. He massaged your heat, his fingers and the key playing with your clothed folds until he backed away completely to cup your cheeks.

“Are you going to be a good girl and listen to me, dove?” he asked in a sultry voice that made your core weep.

He took his fingers out of your mouth, keeping his eyes on parted lips. You wet your them eagerly, needing him to satiate your thirst. “Yes, Captain.”

Steve smirked, the key long forgotten but the desire ever-present. “When I sit down on the edge of that bed, you’re going to take off your clothes. I want you to keep that sinful bra, these terrible excuse for panties, and those high heels on. Nothing else, alright?”

“Yes, Captain,” you affirmed.

Steve leaned forward, his pink lips above yours. You chased them, greedily wanting a kiss. But the only thing you got was a smirk in return. He took a slight detour, heading toward the camera on the right to make sure it was on, too. His broad shoulders looked even more breathtaking in the softly lit space.

Then, he sat down on the large bed, legs open and inviting. You took it as your cue. Gracefully, you slipped the suit off your skin, sighing in exaggerated relief as the fabric released its hold. You were filled with a sense of accomplishment when Steve shifted in his seat, his throat bobbing. You grabbed at your sides, making sure your thong was at a perfect angle before lowering the rest of your suit down. Steve’s breath was caught in his throat, eyes examining you as you slipped off your shoes to peel the rest of your stealth suit off.

Remembering Tony’s previous remarks about the suit, you turned back, purposely bending over as you grabbed your shoes. You kept your back at the same lowered angle, giving Steve a front-row seat to your round ass, temptingly framed by the thin black thong you had on.

Despite your bubbling anticipation, you took your time. And you were not disappointed by the sight before you. Steve was already cupping his clothed erection, playing with himself because of your actions. You glanced at him, moving one heel in front of the other, but he put up his hand before you could move any closer.

“St—?”

“On your knees,” he ordered. You were surprised by his command but quickly composed yourself, setting yourself on your knees with your hands flat on your thighs obediently. “Crawl to me, little dove. Come and show me how good you can make a man feel.”

It was like you were moving on autopilot. All your brain could muster were thoughts of Steve. On top of you, underneath you, and facing you. Every single image was of him losing control and moaning your name without abandon. So, you crawled like the good girl you want to be—his good girl.

When you got to his side, you touched his ankles, hands skimming across his legs and fingers teasing the area behind his knees. Choked sounds escaped his parted lips, egging you on. Your lips landed on his clothed erection, and you stilled for a beat, then two. You could feel him twitch as a result of your gaze.

Hands on the inside of his thighs, you gave him a gentle squeeze. You puckered your lips and peppered kisses on his clothed erection, going as far as to whimper. There was soon pressure on your head once Steve carded his fingers in your hair. “Y/N,” he murmured. “Don’t tease.”

Your doe eyes met his in a luscious glance, his eyes never leaving yours. Not when you bit down on his belt, not when you untangled it with only your teeth, and certainly not when you helped him out of his suit, yanking down his boxers and sucking on his tip. “Yes, that’s it, dove. That’s it,” he said, head thrown back.

And you took the chance to make him crumble even more. His dick was large, exhilaratingly captivating. You felt dirty at the thought of wanting it inside of you—inside your mouth and your pussy. Hell, you even loved having it between your breasts. You just wanted Steve’s dick so bad, and you were not shying away from mentally admitting that Steve turned you from his little dove to his good little whore whenever his dick was involved.

You hollowed your cheek and took as much of his dick as you could in your mouth. You had been practicing, some nights trying to deepthroat him thrice to get every bit of him in you, tattooing your every essence on his cock.

Steve moaned, loudly and pornographically, bucking inside your mouth. You accepted him, moving even further down across his shaft, the wet noises only spurring you on. Greedily, you used your hands to grip his base. When your mouth thrust deeper, your hands moved higher, creating a polarizing rhythm that left Steve throwing himself back against the bed. “Good God,” he practically screamed. “Take me. Take all of me in your little mouth and tiny hands, Y/N. Wet my dick with your mouth, baby girl. Make me cum just for you.”

You obliged, taking him even deeper and relishing his moans. Your lips moved lower, tongue circling around his balls before you sucked each of them in. His grip on you tightened, eliciting a slight pain in your head. But you didn't care. “Fucking good girl of mine,” he cried out breathlessly, fingers fisting your hair. “Fucking perfect mouth that’s made to take no one but me. To swallow no man’s cum but mine. To have its walls and roof painted white by my dick and my dick alone.”

Your pussy ached, and you found yourself desperately humping against the floor while you took his balls in your mouth, moaning like a fucking porn star. You were surprised your lustful sounds hadn’t attracted anyone yet, and you quickly realized that the room must’ve been soundproof. The realization made you rub your pussy harsher against the parquet floor, hands now gripping Steve’s thighs for dear life.

In your peripheral vision, you saw Steve move his shoe-clad feet closer to your core. You whimpered, heart beating frantically against your ribcage. Steve was a gentleman, and while he could be feral in the bedroom, he could never find it in himself to humiliate or degrade. But he knew that when lust took over, you desperately wanted to be his slut. His whore. Nothing but a hole for him to abuse and fill at his leisure.

The first time you asked him to degrade you, he froze. And when he wasn’t comfortable with doing that, you didn’t ask again. But Steve would sometimes do something. A small gesture to appease the both of you. He’d reach out for the drawer and silently look at you with a soundless question: can I use toys? He’d put three fingers in your pussy and wait for you to ask for more before he fisted you.

And tonight, he was giving it to you. The chance to be degraded—to be his perfect little whore. And you took it, crying out loud, practically sobbing at the feel of your wetness coating his shoes. He didn’t move, but you did, swinging your hips back and forth while taking all of his dick in your mouth. You hadn’t noticed how utterly filthy and lewd you looked until you raised your eyes and met your reflection in the ceiling’s mirror. Steve was looking at you too. He watched the way you humped his shoes and took his cock in your mouth. He pushed you against his dick, and you choked. Your breathing became erratic the more you moved against his shoes, tears spilling down your eyes accompanied by the symphony of your satisfied sobs. And that did it for him. He exploded with a scream of your name, cum invading your mouth and taking over your entire senses.

He slowly shifted you back, freeing his shoe from your hold. You were a sight for sore eyes. Thong wet and askew, bra hanging low with pebbled nipples almost peeking out, eyes blown wide with desire. He devoured the painting in front of him, committing your disheveled hair and the cum dripping down the side of your red, swollen lips to memory.

“Captain.” Though he wasn’t too far off in his dreams—because they couldn’t rival this reality—Steve had to admit that he got lost in his thoughts. Your voice called out to him like a devious siren luring him to his demise. “Please. Take me.”

You gasped when his hands were suddenly on your ass, but you barely had the chance to think about it. In the next second, Steve placed you on the mattress with his lips perched above your own. They were like the forbidden fruit: enticing, delectable, and there. Just there, only slightly out of reach. He lightly caressed your lips, each time pulling back before you could reciprocate, repeating the motion until he finally yielded to you.

“Let me taste myself on your lips, little dove,” he breathed in your mouth huskily. “Prove to me I’m only appetizing on your tongue.” You obliged. Your lips captured his own in a violent assault, claiming his tongue as a hostage. Trapped within the walls of your mouth, it explored the edges and the roof, clashing against your own tongue.

You caressed his face, fingers grazing over the beginning of his stubble. A sigh escaped your lips, both from his seductive ministrations and the thought of his stubble against your wet pussy. The image dissolved as soon as his lips left your own. You yelped, finding Steve’s hands entrapping both of yours. “Stevie,” you whimpered, every syllable begging him for his attention. His other hand slithered down your body, gliding across your inner thigh. You thought this was it—he was finally giving you your heart’s desire. But instead of the moan you expected to flee from your throat’s confines, you heard yourself yelping. A sharp and blazing sensation overtook your core, forcing your head back.

“What do you want, dove? You gotta be specific for me, little one?”

“Your hands,” you moaned. It was quickly replaced by a sharp cry when Steve slapped your pussy again. “In me. Inside of me, please,” you begged, gasping when Steve landed another slap across your lower lips. Your clit ached, swollen and inflamed, showing Steve exactly where you needed him.

He slithered his fingers across your pussy lips, moving them up and down. You mewled, alternating between looking at your reflection in the mirror and looking at Steve. His fingers quickly found your entrance, and he put the tip of his fingers in. But the bane of mischief that Steve Rogers was in the bedroom, he took them out of you, replacing them with a harsh slap.

“Not yet,” he practically growled. Leaving you fighting for composure, Steve reached out to the table by his side. The first thing you saw was the handcuffs he diligently wrapped around your hands and secured against the bedframe. The second was the silver silk blindfolds, which he wrapped around your eyes.

You willingly slipped into the darkness, mesmerized by the sea of possibilities before you. Your senses amplified when Steve’s fingers traveled down the expanse of your body. You felt the bed dip, Steve’s bulky frame nestled on top of your stomach. And you melted in a pool of unbridled hunger when he tapped his index finger against your lips with a single command, “Don’t swallow.”

You half expected him to be jerking and ready to unload his load in your mouth. Or maybe he wanted you to take him once more down your throat. But you almost gagged at the feel of the cold liquid inundating your mouth—the taste of the bubbling champagne asserting its dominance.

Steve set the bottle down, leaving you unsure whether he had taken a sip or not. His earlier ministrations resumed, this time hands tugging at your bra. He cupped your breasts, weighing them in his hands. You wanted to moan so badly, but you didn’t want to defy his orders.

He reveled in the way you whimpered, sounds oppressed by the force of his command. He continued playing with your breasts, keeping your left one in his hand and drawing special attention to your right one. He peppered both of them with kisses, using his tongue to circle the area around your nipple and make your pussy clench around nothing but the air that surrounded you.

You bucked against his tongue, hands tugging at the restraints, but they refused to budge. Not that you expected them to. Breathing through your nose, you tried to reach for your impending release. You were no stranger to nipple orgasms, and Steve was trying to draw one out of you—you were sure. A fire built up inside of you, leaving your body temperature rising. You thrust your hips in the air. Sadly, nothing caught their movements.

Steve alternated between both nipples, giving each of them an equal amount of attention. You cried louder, trying to hold the champagne in. You were about to come when Steve pulled away.

A high-pitched whine reflected your displeasure, gaining you a slap to your pussy. “Patience,” Steve ordered, and you reluctantly obliged. Even though you ached to be ravaged by him, whether by his hands, tongue, or dick, you had to admit that you were enraptured by his movements and were always more than eager to lose yourself in his lustful tempest.

You let some fresh air fill your lungs, still breathing through your nose, while Steve adjusted himself on your body. Though blindfolded, your senses were elevated, and you could sense Steve’s body heat creeping closer to yours. True to your suspicion, he loomed over you. One of his hands slithered across your neck, trapping you in a chokehold. You embraced his untamed gestures, craning your head to hopefully meet his face.

Without so much as a clue, Steve crashed his lips against yours with such fervor it left you reeling. You couldn’t keep the champagne in anymore, feeling Steve steal some of it from your mouth to his, letting the rest fall down across your chin and chest. Steve didn’t kiss you at that moment. He consumed you, engulfed you with his mouth, greedily taking in everything you had to offer.

You were an instrument, and he was the musician, releasing one string to play with the other. With a loud pop, he let go of your mouth, licking a long stripe down your neck and nibbling at the shell of your ear. “Mine,” he roared, one of his hands moving to your center.

“Yours,” you confirmed, eyes misty with lust and heart lost in the haze of Steve’s ardor. “I’m yours,” you barely managed to whisper before you cut yourself off with a loud yell. Your head hit the pillow, your body forced down by the weight of Steve’s palm on your stomach. You felt something enter your drenched pussy, seething itself to one side. You breathed in deeper now that your mouth had been free of the champagne’s grasp.

You winced, something else entering the right side of your pussy. Steve played with your clit, easing the discomfort. As the pain ebbed and passion rose, you quickly figured out what had Steve done: he’d put Ben Wa balls inside of you.

“You’re such a perfect little dove, Y/N. Letting me do anything and everything I want to do with you, knowing I’ll make you feel so good. Make you feel so perfect.”

“Yes,” you nodded vehemently, restraints rattling in harmony. “Yes, Captain. You make me feel so good.”

Steve smirked, and you just knew it from when he cupped your breasts and covered them with his mouth. “Just as you make me.”

He pulled your tits apart, and you hopped that meant he was going to fuck you. To fuck the brains out of you and the desire that’s nestled deep within your core. But of course, a super soldier like Steve wouldn’t be done yet. You didn’t know how much time had passed, whether it was an hour or an eon, but time always seemed inconspicuous when Steve was involved.

“Do this one little thing for me, baby doll. And I promise, I will let your pretty princess pussy milk my cock.”

“Anything,” you replied. Steve kissed you then, short but passionate. He pulled back and gave you one more peck before you felt him squeeze your tits once more, this time putting his dick between them. “Oh God. Oh God, Steve!”

“You like taking my cock any way you can, little dove,” he stated matter-of-factly, thrusting himself in the space between your tits and toying with your nipples at the same time. “You like having me as yours. Being the only woman in the world who can take my cock in a dozen different ways. The only woman who I can paint with my cum.”

“Steve,” you mewled loudly and sinfully. His movements, your thoughts, and the added pressure of the Ben Wa balls deep inside of you did so little to appease your heat. You cried and cried, moaning louder than any porn star in existence. And when you felt Steve grunt in pleasure, you gave it to him.

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he cursed when you spat at his dick, drool dripping down your lips and mixing with precum. “You’re so shamelessly beautiful like this. My favorite piece of art.”

He thrust faster, lifting one breast and lowering the other to create an earth-shattering friction that left his dick twitching by your mouth. You knew what was coming, and you didn’t care whether Steve would allow your release or not. You opened your mouth, counting down his brisk breaths. He grunted twice, moaned once, and nestled his head in your neck to bite down on your shoulder. He was coming. So, you opened your mouth and took as much as you could while the rest of him mesmerizingly decorated your face and chest.

Steve released your tits, but the pressure in your core only barely subsided. He kissed your forearms, wet lips trailing your hands until he reached your wrists. Finally, after so much waiting, he released your hands and untied the blindfold. You squinted at the invasive light. Steve took this as a chance to kiss your eyelids, thumb caressing the curve of your mouth. “You’ve been so good to me, little dove. I think it’s time to get your reward. Would you lay on your stomach for me?”

You opened your eyes, seeking the warmth of his irises. “Uh-huh,” was all that you said before Steve helped you to the position he wanted. He unclipped your bra and slowly discarded your thong. Your pussy clenched, and he kissed your ass cheek when he noticed. “I’ll give you everything you need and more, my Y/N.”

Steve reached out for a pillow, placing it on your pelvis. “Stevie, please. I can’t wait anymore. Please, baby.”

“Don’t beg, little dove,” Steve told you while moving your hair to the side and positioning himself above you. “I’m here, Y/N. I’m yours. Take all of me.”

You whimpered, teary eyes looking at him to relieve you of your ache. Steve immediately moved his tip along your folds to collect your essence. Yearning for you as much as you yearned for him, he began to slowly sheath himself inside of you. You cried out at the sheer size of him, hands fisting the sheets beneath you.

Steve inserted himself slowly, bottoming out with a deep, guttural moan. “Fuck,” you breathed, grinding your hips against his—the friction amplifying his passion and yours. The Ben Wa balls intensified your lust, making you feel full and empty all at once.

Slowly, he started to move. His thrusts were sharp and deep, reflecting his need for you. But the more you moaned, the more he faltered, digging his dick further inside you. “You feel so good,” he admitted, knowing this position was a favorite of yours. You both had quickly discovered that it made for the best sex—giving Steve a clear route to your g-spot and an earth-shattering orgasm.

“More,” you demanded, seeking out his unbridled hunger. “Please, more!” You wanted to feel him lose control inside of you. You adored feeling him lose control inside of you. Steve obliged, thrusting in and out of you at a maddening pace, deeply embedding himself within your heat. “Fuck, Steve. Fuck!” you cried, his balls hitting your skin, adding to the lewdness of the scene.

“Tell me I can go faster,” Steve almost begged. You tilted your head, finding him with eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration. There was a thin layer of sweat on his face, and you sought his hand to interlace your fingers, finding ways to mold into each other further. “Tell me I can ravage you. Tell me that I can give you all of me, Y/N.”

You squeezed his hand, and he reciprocated your touch. His thrusts were on the precipice of control, as were his actions, this close to tipping over the edge. He had taken your neck hostage in his large veiny hands, thrusting his tongue inside your mouth in tandem with his dick inside your pussy. “Lose control,” you told him. “Lose yourself in me, Captain.”

And lose himself he did. His thrusts became irregular, and it was hard to tell where exactly his hands were on your skin. They were squeezing your breasts, roaming your stomach, tightly pressing against your ass. He was everywhere. You looked up at the ceiling, salivating and burying your face in the mattress at the beautiful portrait you and Steve painted together. You both moaned louder than ever before, the cameras eagerly commemorating your actions.

“Steve, I’m so close,” you warned him when he kept on repeatedly hitting your g-spot. His response came in the form of short but sweet-sounding kisses planted from your collarbone to your neck. He nibbled on the shell of your ear, licking the skin there and sucking on it.

“Cum, little dove,” he said huskily. “Cream my cock.”

You moved faster against his dick, taking all of him in until you collapsed in on yourself, every part of you stealing Steve’s affection. You clenched hard against his dick, feeling yourself squirt and cream his cock. It didn’t take him seconds before he exploded inside of you, emptying his load for the third time with a scream of your name. He didn’t relent, though. His sporadic movements picked up again. At this point, you were far too lost in the haze of your unabashed engagements to notice. It didn’t take you long to feel another orgasm building up.

You were about to warn Steve when he flipped you over on your back, dick salaciously pounding into your pussy. Determination itched on his brows, and undiluted want lined his irises. He put his hand on your mouth, and you wailed, back arching, pussy squirting (again. How is this even possible?), and your entire surrounding collapsing on itself.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO DOING?” you heard a high-pitched scream. Too far gone in the throes of passion, you weren’t aware that Tony had opened the door, leading Pepper inside the room. But oh, Steve did. Judging by the smirk, he had heard them coming in.

“Do I really need to explain to you the birds and the bees, Tony?” he mocked, securing the sheets around you both and hiding you from view. His dick twitched inside of you, making it harder for you to breathe.

Tony looked furious. “What I need to you to explain, you ungrateful ass, is what are you doing in this room?

Steve arched an eyebrow. “Procreating,” he answered. You had to cover your mouth and hide behind him so as not to laugh. You could barely move from all the previous activities, and Steve’s dick inside of you, trapped between your overused pussy and the Ben Wa balls, wasn’t really helping the situation. “What are you doing here? Is that why you made comments about Y/N’s ass? Were you hoping to watch us or something?”

“OH MY GOD.”

“Pepper. No, I swe—”

“Is that your idea of making it up to me? Watching Y/N and Steve go at it. Tony—”

“Absolutely not! Do I look like I have a grandfather kink or something?”

“Then, why are we in this room?”

“Well, I was hoping we could engage in—”

“ENGAGE? With Steve and Y/N??”

“NO. I don’t even know what they’re doing here!”

“What every two consenting adults do,” you added with a raspy voice. Tony’s expression was almost as good as the sex you just had. He was utterly dumbfounded, desperately raking his brain to persuade Pepper that this wasn’t what she thought she was. “Nice costume, Pep. I’m sorry. We were told there was a surprise waiting for us for the emotional trauma caused by your genius playboy.”

“Yeah,” Pepper exhaled. She was dressed in what you assumed was an Asgardian dress, and you felt guilty to have ruined her night. “Well, it was a surprise for all of us. I’m sorry on behalf of the idiot playboy.”

Pepper glared at Tony, heels digging into his shoes. He cursed, his frustrations matching hers. “Pepper,” he begged breathlessly. But she was already gone. “I’m getting you two back for this. I swear.”

“No, Tony. We will not send you a copy of our sex tape,” you teased, purposely raising your voice. You swore Tony’s arc reactor was going to malfunction.

“I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING. PEPPER, I SWEAR. SHE’S LYING!!”

And with that, he left, leaving you and Steve hysterically laughing. He kissed you breathlessly, hands holding your face like you were the most precious thing in his life. “Halloween wasn’t that bad.”

“No. I kind of like this house now, too.”

“Me too, dove. I love every place I make happy memories there with you.” And happy memories you continued to make with Tony and Pepper’s squabble long lost in the background.

I'm going to hell for this.

You can also find my work on AO3. 🤍

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x female reader #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #marvel mcu #avengers #the avengers #steve rogers smut #captain america smut #kinktober 2023 #marvel kinktober #steve rogers kinktober #halloween fanfic #JamiesHalloween2023

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pianokantzart · 10 months

Note

I posted something somewhere about Papa Mario’s “these are boys” line being wholesome (and made more so because of who voices the character!) and I got some comments from people who hated the line because it was clear Pio “didn’t give a shit” about either of his sons and only accepted them once they gave him something he could brag about. In other words, he only “cares” about them when they make him look good. I don’t think this is the case, and I get the feeling you don’t either. Can you do a brief analysis on the character given what little we’ve seen of him? :)

Yep, I 100% agree with you. Mario and Luigi's dad may have his flaws, but he definitely cares about his kids.

The thing about Pio is that he strikes me as the family patriarch? At least for as long as the grandpa has been in his twilight years. Not only does Pio appear a lot more emotionally restrained than Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur, but he's bulkier and moves with a lot less pep. Either he's a good number of years older than either of them, works a far more physically demanding job, or both. Whatever the case, he takes matters with a lot more gravity, and his lapse of judgement at the dinner table seemed to be out of genuine worry rather than disdain or apathy. At first he did his best to talk about anything other than Mario's failing plumbing business, keeping his head down and eating his pasta while everyone else was either defending or teasing Mario and Luigi.

It's only when Mario directly asks his dad for his opinion that he gets right to the heart of the matter:

"I think you're nuts. You don't leave a steady job for some crazy dream. And the worst part? You're bringing your brother down with you."

It's harsh, but you can tell he means well. This is not the face of a man who "doesn't give a sh*t." This may be a big joke to Arthur and Tony, but to Pio it's dead serious. Mario's taking a huge gamble with his and his brother's financial stability. Yes, this is Mario AND Luigi's dream, and Luigi is perfectly capable of making his own decisions... but it's clear who's leading the charge and making a lot of questionable choices along the way. If Pio has a place of headship in the family like I suspect, then this statement has a lot more weight to it– he knows what it is to have other people's wellbeing rely on you. It's important Mario understands that if this longshot fails, he won't be going down alone.

Did Mario already know this? Yep. Was telling him he was bringing his brother down a step too far? Absolutely, but Pio was not trying to emotionally gut his son the way he did.

When Mario storms off, he looks blindsided by the reaction.

When everyone stares at him in surprise he asks "what did I say?" in a tone of genuine confusion. This was meant to be a wakeup call for Mario, not a slap in the face. Apparently, Luigi's inability to read a room is hereditary.

But Pio's not a man of pure stoicism, he's still a hot-blooded Italian at his core, so of course he gets so excited when his kids appear out of nowhere to decimate a giant turtle dragon and his invading army??? (Please note the way he's leaning way too far out of that window in his excitement. It's lucky he's got good core strength or he'd be falling right out of the third story into what is still an active war zone.)

When the smoke clears both Mia and Pio are climbing over wreckage to get to Mario and Luigi, well before a crowd has gathered to cheer. The "these are my boys!" was a continuation of the pride Mario's dad had already expressed before he realized anyone else was watching. He has absolutely no idea what just happened, but anyone with eyes can see that Mario and Luigi just did something fantastic! And as much as Pio sees Mario in the leading role– responsible for his and his brother's failures– he also sees him as responsible for their victories.

So yeah. Conclusion: Mario's Dad is a flawed guy who makes big mistakes, but there's no doubt in my mind that he cares a lot about his kids.

#anyways I'm on the Pio defense squad and my opinion will not be shaken easily #super mario brothers #mario movie #Mario Family #mario headcanons #mario analysis #Local father who is VERY bad at communication tries to teach his son the importance of responsibility #and accidentally delivers psychic damage. More at 11 #askbox #anon #long post

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lokisgoodgirl · 2 years

Text

The Red Dress [Avenger! Loki x Fem. Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: (5) It's a big night for the team, and your outfit of choice makes quite the impression on one god in particular. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Hostility. Language. Jealously. Humour. Smuttish. Sexual tension. (w/c 3.7k)

Loki had been back from his latest mission for a whole week, and you were counting the days until he left again. It was the night of the annual Avenger’s shareholder party, the most important corporate night of the year. Mandatory attendance. A month and three days had passed since what you had come to term ‘the incidents’. Not that you were counting, of course. Memories of Loki’s dexterous hands roaming your body haunted you. How he made the world around you fade to darkness beneath his animalistic moans was still annoyingly clear as day, even in the dead of night. Particularly in the dead of night.

It was nothing. At least, that’s what you told yourself as a resplendent Loki Laufeyson descended the staircase to the party with a spring in every conceited step.

You smoothed a hand down the bodice of your red dress, the skater pleats of the silk skirt grazing your bare thighs. He was wearing some sort of tight tunic tonight, a mix of Asgardian and Earth fashion that could only have come from one of Stark’s legendary tailors. His flowing black hair was combed back, falling in an effortless train behind his shoulders. A familiar gold crescent adorned the material snug around his chest, the high collar straight against his devastatingly jawline. He wants everyone to know who he is, smug bastard, you thought venomously as you imagined how the cool metal of his sacred symbol over his heart would feel against your ass while you sat on his face. Because of course he does. The straight tunic brushed his thighs, a longer flap of material hanging teasingly over his manhood. Wise decision, Tony; you thought, remembering the ferociously primal stir his enormous bulge caused at the last event. Matte leather clung to his muscled legs, running down into formal knee high boots that made you want to scream. All black. Or is it dark green, you wondered; hungry eyes hovering on the creases appearing at his thighs as he gracefully made his way down the stairs alone. The whole thing was a blip, you told yourself. A moment of madness. Or two. If anything, you never thought about it at all. Seeing him swagger nonchalantly around the Tower with that token arrogance clinging to him like latex was unbearable, though. His whole demeanour, the haughty derision toward everyone and everything simmering beneath that perfect skin, brewing the next sarcastic quip. Unbearable. And what was even more unbearable was that the shithead was ignoring you. How many times had you grimaced at the ridiculous little cough of condescension that floated over your shoulder in the kitchen before he released a tepid barb? Too many, you thought; as your eyes scanned his proud features radiant in the reflections from the mirrorball. It was one of the many things you loathed about him. And yet now you finally had your wish that it would cease...somehow, it smarted. Like he was winning.

You’d fallen into the habit of talking a little louder in his vicinity when he graced the common rooms with his austere presence, saving your best lines for when he was close and could hear the rampant mirth you provoked. That he would see the scintillating hilarity he's missing by being a complete dick, you thought; running your eyes up his endless legs as he reached the bottom of the stairs, his eyes scanning the pulsing crowd with a self-assured smirk. Damn, he looks fucking good tonight, though you conceded reluctantly; grateful that the sway of your flouncy dress hid a slight involuntary thrust of your hips. He raised his chin, looking left and right; a glazed stare floating right past you. If you were honest, you had hoped that the perfectly fitted dress and the cleavage contained therein would lure him to you; drive him mad with longing or some damn thing. At least long enough to give him a taste of his own medicine. As he turned away, you realised that your cleavage would just as easily open the doors to Stark’s vault. And really, it wasn’t like you cared. Irritation marinated as Nat handed you a drink, your fingers absent-mindedly clasping the stem of the glass. She chattered over the music as you took a mental picture of Loki’s muscular body vacuum-packed into that ridiculous outfit to masturbate over later in the bath. Yes, you thought; your eyes crawling over his endless limbs as he greeted a flustered Rogers with a sarcastic bow. That will do nicely. “-hey, are you listening?” Nat said, in that peculiarly penetrating tone she saved for when she knew you were absolutely not listening. Your head tilted towards her with a strained smile, blinking several times. “Got distracted, sorry.” you said innocently. She nodded, taking a sip of her wine while observing the party’s latest arrival. Nat licked the faint stain of red from her upper lip. “You mean David Gandy over there?” she said, nudging her head towards Loki. You chuckled, an infectious giggle from Nat following. “I wonder what will give up first” she postured, folding her elegant arms. “Thor’s table manners or Loki’s new threads. He’s really poured in there, huh?” You snorted, shaking your head. “Loki’s manners more like.” you murmured to yourself, seeing Nat’s brow furrow. “Sorry, what was it you were saying before?” Her face softened, the placid expression returning. “Stark needs you on the bar.” “On the bar? You’re kidding me.” you whined, letting out an exasperated sigh. “How’s it going to look to the shareholders when one of the bloody team is on shaker-duty?” “Like good PR” she winked, reaching out and tugging down the neckline of your red dress to expose a tad more cleavage. “And no one makes a Martian Hard On like you, babe.” You sighed again, hating that she was right. “Fine.” you grimaced, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Come and talk to me later. If I get stuck with all the handsy drunk ones I’ll be mad.” you said, seeing her eyes light up at your words. “Those are my favourite.” she winked.

You made your apologies to those you cut across, dodging photographer’s flashes as they documented the party. “-Sorry!” you yelped, colliding with an unexpected wall of muscle. Stepping back, your face fell as Loki spun on his heels; looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. They narrowed, running appraisingly over your body, his brows knitted in a strange disapproval. “How did you get over here so fast?” you muttered, straightening as one of his long fingers re-adjusted a strap of your dress which had succumbed to the collision. “Keeping tabs on me, are we? I’m flattered.” he hummed, winding his arm around the shoulder of a mysterious smiling woman. You vaguely remembered seeing her face on the laminated VIP lists Steve had handed out at the briefing. Now you sort of wished you had read it. “Lead the way, barkeep.” Loki smirked, making you roll your eyes. You opened the hatch with a rough churning in your stomach. I did not join the Avengers for this bullshit, you thought as you grabbed the cocktail shaker from the back-shelf. Loki raised the woman’s hand, helping her perch on the barstool before setting himself down. You knew his thick thighs would be spread invitingly against the leather seat, the modestly flap casually set askew to accentuate the peek of the ever-present bulge in his always-just-a-little-too-tight trousers. He placed one forearm on the bar, eyes flickering upward to the side seductively in a way you could only assume was calculated. God, he looked so fucking- “What can I get you?” you said sharply, a manufactured smile stretched across your lips as a stressed-out looking Tony walked by, giving you a grateful nod. Loki pursed his lips in a theatrical ponder. “What do you feel like, darling?” he purred, turning to the woman by his side. She giggled, her cheeks turning pink as his bicep shifted beneath the tight tunic; clearly resting a hand on her leg. By day, she would be one of the most influential financiers in the country. But tonight, it seemed she was an eighteen year old groupie again. “Does she do cocktails?” the woman said coquettishly to Loki, her eyes not leaving his as he bit his lip. His tongue flicked out, running over his cupid’s bow. God, he was really laying it on thick. “She does.” he said thoughtfully, turning toward you with a knowing look. “And she has quite the speciality...remind me, what’s the name?” You sighed, the inevitability of his insider knowledge making you want to ram a cocktail stick in his eye.

“A ‘Martian Hard On’.” you said through gritted teeth, seeing the corner of Loki’s mouth twitch. “And how does one make this frankly delicious sounding concoction?” he purred, leaning closer over the bar with feigned interest.

“It’s not that good actually. Bit overrated.” you sniffed, wiping the damp cloth across the marble. Loki frowned. “I’ll just have Sex on the Beach.” the woman quipped, before gasping dramatically. “I mean the cocktail, not actual sex on the beach…” she drawled with faux-innocence, breaking out in a high-pitched laugh that made your teeth hurt.

You rolled your eyes again, turning to the rows of bottles on the mirrored shelves. In the reflection, you saw Loki lean towards her, the razor-straight line of his jaw twitching as he whispered in her ear. The high collar skirted the angle as he spoke, black slicing against the fairness of his skin. A token flash of his cheekbones that kept you awake at night made your stomach flip as the woman gasped, before giggling again. “Oh you are a bad man, Loki Laufeyson. Tony said I should watch out for you, and he was right.” She pushed his shoulder flirtatiously, watching Loki’s face crease in mock-hurt as he pressed a hand to his chest. His smile was uncharacteristically warm, twinkling eyes running over her admittedly pretty features like she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Hell, maybe she was. It’s just his job for the night, you thought, re-considering the liberal measure of peach schnapps you had poured for the woman now cackling at one of Loki’s over-inflated stories. He’s not actually going to- “Anything to report?” a rasping whisper floated over your shoulder, making you jump. “Christ, Steve…” you mumbled, before sliding the sloppily put together cocktail across the marble towards Loki and the woman. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Loki hummed condescendingly in your direction, passing the glass to his charge with a wink. “I’m just going to the restroom.” the woman said coyly after taking a sip, tugging at the stiff collar of Loki’s tunic. She leant closer, her lips grazing the smooth skin of his cheek. You could see her hand sliding up his thigh, your eyes widening as her palm cupped the bulge in his tight trousers. “Don’t go anywhere.” “Not even if I could, Madam...” Loki said coyly, making you choke back a reluctant laugh as Steve grimaced. The three of you watched the woman slink away, a prominent swing in her step. “That’s Tony’s biggest shareholder, Laufeyson. Don’t fudge it up.” Rogers spat when she was out of earshot, the vein in his temple twitching alarmingly. “I can assure you Rogers, I will not be fudging anything.” Loki drawled, inspecting his fingernails as his features softened to a knowing smile. “Unless she asks me to, of course.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed the same colour as his salmon shirt. “Now listen here, Laufeyson.” he hissed, “No funny business. You just need to show her a good time. Tell her a few jokes.” He raised a hand as Loki opened his mouth with a smart comment on the tip of his tongue. “PG jokes, thank you very much.” “He can handle it Steve” you sighed absent-mindedly, noticing a splash of something on the pleat of your dress. You frowned, looking up at them. “Just, drop it. She’ll be fine, she’s all over him.”

Rogers eyebrow cocked, his gaze running suspiciously between you and Loki as he patted his notebook against one soft palm. “So are you two...pals, now?” he said sceptically, noting the twitch of your eye as he spoke. “-Oh yes.” Loki drawled, throwing Steve a dazzlingly forced smile. “She’s warmed to me at last it seems. I did some charity work for her. Didn’t I, Agent?” You scowled, diligently polishing one of the ostentatious cocktail glasses Stark only brought out on very special occasions. “Charity work, huh?” Steve said, his eyebrows rising towards the god. “That’s spiff of you, Laufeyson. I’ll make a note for your review that you’re really inserting yourself into team culture.” “Oh yes. I’m all about inserting myself deep into the culture now, Rogers.” Loki murmured. “It was quite a desperate situation, really. Tragic, one might say. I simply couldn’t stand by and do nothing while the poor thing suffered.” You inhaled some of your own spit with a cough, spluttering with masked indignation. Loki’s face creased in faux-concern, leaning forward on the bar. “Are you alright, friend?” he murmured, a devilish smile tweaking his lips. Anger flushed through your blood, heat rising in your cheeks as you tried to stay calm. Charity. He’s got some fucking nerve, you thought, dabbing your mouth subtly with a napkin. Steve nodded briskly, scanning the room before giving someone a cheery wave and pushing away. You looked at Loki, his sanctimonious shit-eating grin doing nothing to dampen the conflicted whirl of thoughts in your mind. The music faded behind the thump of blood in your ears as Loki took sip of his manufactured-date’s drink. You were suddenly parched. The ridges of your tongue felt uncomfortable against the roof of your mouth. His cheekbones hollowed as he sucked at the edge of the glass, setting it down before licking his bottom lip with a low moan. The visceral feeling of Loki’s teeth sinking into the soft skin of your shoulder shuddered through you, seeing his eyes glint in the dim party lights, relishing your awkward reaction. “Delicious.” he growled, running his eyes down to your cleavage and back to your face. “Shame about the dress, though. A bit too garish for you, Agent. A bit too...attention-seeking, perhaps.” “You’re ridiculous.” you sniffed haughtily, clasping the edges of the bar with straight arms. Your shoulders flexed, pushing your breasts up. “And you of all people can’t lecture me about seeking attention...which is not what this is, so I don’t know why you-” “Oh?” Loki cut in. He leant forward, beckoning you with a double flick of one thick fingertip. “Well it seems that whether you want it or not...you have it.” There was a pause. You could feel your traitorous pussy sliding against your thin panties, his unrelenting smarm making you want to pull him toward you and shut him up in the only way that seemed to work.

Loki sipped the cocktail again, nudging his head subtly towards the seating area to the side of the bar. You looked over, seeing Thor displayed uncomfortably on the sofa. He was leaning forward, one meaty elbow resting on his knee with the fist propped beneath his chin. His thighs were spread wide, his eyes twitching with murderous intensity as he stared at you like dinner. “He’s flirting with you.” Loki purred, a smile tugging at his lips. You snorted, feeling your cheeks heat. “He is not. I don’t know what he’s doing but it’s not that.” you garbled, wiping the bar with a damp cloth. A fizzing knot grew in your belly as Loki’s fingers drummed the marble between you nonchalantly. “In Asgard, we have very particular customs around colours, Agent. Are you aware?” You huffed, hoping that the clawing in your stomach would pass. “By wearing that misguided little sliver of crimson silk, you have aroused some very deep-seated urges within my brother that you wish to bed him tonight. To be ridden like a fine Asgardian mare. A fabled red flag to a particularly lacklustre bull, one might say.” You looked again at Thor, now massaging his thigh; his darkened gaze undressing you. He bit his lip, one eye closing in a slow, calculated wink. “Oh god…” you murmured dryly. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Agent. He’s not very good, I’m afraid. Especially considering your recently elevated standards.” You snorted. “I find it hard to believe that you guys are used to women traipsing around in your ‘colours’ waiting for their chance to shag you.” you hissed, throwing Thor a sideways glance. “I am not going to sleep with him. That’s absurd.” Loki looked at you silently, a closed smile stretching across his placid face before he spoke. “Oh, believe it Agent. We Asgardian princes never wanted for company. Even if my brother was a little less...discerning.” He smirked, enjoying every second of your growing discomfort. “And as for your intentions with him tonight, I recommend you alert him to your little misunderstanding sooner rather than later.” “And what about your little ‘misunderstanding’? You know she basically thinks you’re some kind of superpowered gigalo, right?” you sneered, seeing Loki’s eyebrows rise. He chuckled, shaking his head just as the woman surfaced from the throng of the crowd. She had pulled the neckline down, and you could have sworn that when she had left she had been wearing pantyhose beneath that party dress. “Who says I’m not, Agent?” he whispered covertly, pushing himself off the barstool as he leant closer. His cologne filled your nostrils, the musky tang making your mouth water. “You of all people know I can be anything she desires.” He tore his hardened gaze from your eyes to the beaming woman with an exaggerated smile. “Amanda, darling. Let’s dance, shall we?” he announced, peeling his long limbs from the barstool.

Amanda, you scoffed with a grimace as she melted willingly into his lean body. The glass you had picked up became the most interesting thing in the room as you tried to maintain an air of indifference, polishing it casually. You could feel Thor’s eyes burning into you as you stared at the crystal held between your fingertips. The synapses of your brain were fizzing, the temptation to look up to the dancefloor...irresistible. Fuck, you thought; feeling your eyes rising to the busy centre of the room. The crowd pulsed beneath the lights from the mirrorball over the sound of a remixed version of Rasputin. In that suit, his body was endless. The wide rim boots cut in solid angles at his knees, the hard meat of his thighs rising to the hem of the tunic flexing visibly through the fabric. His hand slid over the curves of her hips, ghosting her ass before pulling the keening woman tight to his broad chest.

Your eyes flickered to Rogers lurking in the shadows watching them. Arms crossed, brow furrowed in disapproval. Loki’s outfit clung like a luxurious second skin, every inch reacting to the movement of his limbs as he gracefully swayed her body to his. Amanda’s fingers ran up his torso, bumping over the curve of Asgardian gold. She tucked a long strand of hair behind his ear, her eyes smouldering with singular intent to fuck this heavenly creature in whose arms she somehow found herself tonight. But she doesn’t know him like I do, you thought with a grimace. She doesn’t know what he’s really like-

Loki swung her gracefully outward, pulling her back to him with a timed thrust of his muscular hips; bucking gently as her hand travelled lower. The stem of the elegant martini glass in your grip snapped. Primitive jealousy like you had never known surged through your blood like napalm, a ferocious shiver rolling across every nerve making your hair stand on end. The audacity of the god cut deep as you smacked the towel to the marble bar, making straight for the hatch. White noise filled your ears as you made your way over to the seating area, a flustered looking Thor standing to attention as you approached. Your fingers scraped at his shirt, managing to snag an inch of material not plastered to his frame. He jerked forward, the rough stubble of his cheek scratching against your skin. “Dance with me.” you purred into his ear, feeling his huge frame shudder. He growled, striding forward and tugging you roughly to the dance-floor. The shards of light from the mirrorball stung your eyes as Thor whipped you into his bulging arms, the cotton of his shirt straining dangerously against freakishly large biceps. Oh god, you thought as the room spun. You were vaguely aware of his large hands slipping down your waist, pulling you toward him with a firm tug. “My lady, you tease too brazenly. For too long I have coveted this.” he grunted, his hair scratching your eyes as he began to gyrate in time with Boney M. “Wha-what?” you squeaked, thinking of the years you’d spent side by side with not a hint of the heated desire seeping from him as he wound his imposing body around yours. “That dress…my colours” he smouldered, his eyes darkened with lust, “...it has lit a fire within me. I must have you.” One hand slid over your lower back, grasping the folded material of the red silk skirt. He growled again, tightening his fist; burying his face in your neck as he swayed deeper against your frame. Thor’s hot breath skated over the place his brother had made his mark the month prior, the pale bruise still visible in the harsh light of day.

“Thor…” you gasped breathlessly, pushing a palm against his chest as one belonging to another roughly smacked him on the shoulder, casting him backward. You gasped as Loki shoved you briskly to the side, stepping toward the blonde. “Ordinances of the Colours do not apply in this realm, brother.” Loki snarled, baring his teeth. The disco lights glinted on the gold adorning his suit; his fierce eyes flashing in confrontation. Your pussy tightened, seeing Loki’s fists clench by his sides. “Ordinances or not, brother...she claimed me as hers for this dance.” Thor postured, squaring up to the dark-god with a solitary step forward. “And this night, I believe.” He added, suggestively. “Ask her.” Loki shot you a look that would kill the weak. You swallowed, fighting the feeling of your knees attempting to buckle. “It’s true.” you said, much more calmly than you expected, your stomach fizzing. “I did. The dance, anyway.” Loki rolled his eyes. “Aren’t they missing you on the bar, Agent?” he spat, gesturing to the small queue of people hanging against the counter-top expectantly. It was your turn to roll your eyes, walking past him with a shove of your shoulder. It hurt. Fucking Laufeyson and his fucking ego- you thought furiously, hearing the brothers bicker theatrically behind you. Roger’s frustrated drawl soon intervened between them as you stared resolutely ahead on your path. Who the hell does he think he- Suddenly you were tugged roughly to the side. The heels you wore skated over the smooth floor as you careened into the dark hall passageway away from the humming crowd and thumping music. Long fingers clasped over your parted lips, your back thudding against the nearest wall as Loki loomed above you; resplendent and menacing in the gloom. The skintight tunic pressed against your cleavage, his hardening cock dragging slowly upward against your body with formidable intent. The god’s bottomless eyes were dark liquid as he stared down at you, hair falling in curled tendrils against your cheek. A muscle in his clenched jaw bobbed as he wet his lips. “Lead me to your rooms, Agent.” he enunciated quietly, his chest heaving with slow, heavy breaths. “Immediately.”

Continued in The Red Dress: Ruined (w/c 2.5k) Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection