#Marvel avengers

[sharkdadontumbl]

🐦

Sam, defender of all pigeons

#sam wilson #the falcon #shitpost #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel #marvel mcu #marvel avengers #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfaws #sharkdadontumbl

[whereireid]

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 | masterlist

pairing: senator!steve rogers x fem!reader

⍟ — nsfw content ahead. soft!dom steve. married life. housewife kink. oral [f receiving]. degradation of reader.

Summary: Your husband, Senator Steve Rogers, has been acting strange recently. He makes it up to you after he catches you snooping.

You don’t want to snoop on your husband.

Honest, you don’t.

Sometimes, though, duty calls. It feels like a crime to be in Steve’s office, perched at his desk, attempting to hack into his computer.

You’ve tried three different passwords, now. The first, the name of your daughter, and her date of birth — BeauRogers2012. The second, your anniversary — 19October2007. And, finally, the name of the family dog — CooperRogers.

Nothing. There’s nothing. All to no avail, the screen lighting a shade of red with each incorrect guess, your lips tugging down into a frown as you try to pinpoint exactly what his password could be.

If it’s not Beau, and it’s not you, and it’s not the family dog… then what is it?

Your eyes scan his office, desperate for a moment of realisation. You want something to click, your eyes dragging from a photograph of him and Bucky, to the miniature American flag which sits on his desk.

That’s it.

107thInfantryRegiment.

The computer lets you in. Steve’s desktop background is a photograph of you, him and Beau — baby Beau, curled in her daddy’s arms, asleep, in a pumpkin patch.

You pause. You feel bad, snooping, hesitating as you stare at the pixelated desktop background.

You feel awful, but you have to know what he’s getting up to.

Your lips press together as you swallow away the tightness in your throat, dragging the mouse towards his emails. Before you press down, you hesitate — Steve has never given you a reason not to trust him.

Yet, you’re in, now. You might as well look whilst you’re there, and you’re glad that you do, because a particular name piques your interest as you snoop through his emails.

Sharon Carter.

Steve’s ex-assistant, although you’d always assumed she was more than that. She helped your husband climb to the position of Senator — she was his number one fan, more obsessed with him than you.

Your brows knit together. Steve had told you that him and Sharon no longer speak, as a result of her switching to the Republican to spite him. This — these emails, which go back for months — is unfathomable evidence that he’s been lying to you. Your throat feels cotton dry as you frantically scroll, unable to comprehend that they’ve been communicating for months without you knowing.

“What are you doing?”

Fear cracks through your body like a whip. You feel like a thin sheet of ice, cold flooding through your body as your eyes dart up from the computer screen, focused on your husband, who appears unamused by what he’s found.

“So, what are you doing?” Steve repeats when you don’t answer, his lips pursed as he stares at you. The suit he’s wearing is somewhat tight on his arms, and you can see his muscles flex beneath his clothes. “Be a big girl and use your words, honey.”

“You’re — you’re messaging Sharon Carter.”

His eyebrows quirk upwards in amusement. “You went through my emails,” he comments, “without my permission.”

“You’re messaging Sharon Carter,” you repeat, your voice coming out a whisper.

The look that he gives you is degrading. It’s a look of pity — his jaw ticks slightly as he cocks his head, his tongue darting over his plump, pink lips, leaving a glistening sheen in its wake. “And you’re going through my emails,” he reiterates, pushing himself off of the doorframe. “Without my permission.”

“Are you cheating on me?”

An amused expression flitters over Steve’s face as he approaches you. You feel timid in his chair, his large frame overbearing as he looms over you, the blue irises of his eyes impossibly sheathed by his black and blown pupils.

“Cheating?” He asks, beginning to lower himself to your height. You brows furrow in confusion as he kneels in front of you, his hands placing themselves on your knees. “No. Why? Did you think that I was?”

“Yes.”

“Liar,” Steve whispers from beneath you, your skin prickling with goosebumps as his fingers run over the pleated fabric of your skirt. “You just wanted to know what I’ve been doing.”

You push at Steve’s head, forcing him to look up at you. You frown, a twisted warmth pooling inside of your stomach as his hand caresses the plump flesh of your thighs. “Yeah. You’ve been doing her.”

He snorts. “If I wanted Barbie, I would’ve had Barbie.” His hand beckons your thighs apart, and you flush as his hums in content. “No underwear. Whore.”

Your face flushes with warmth. "That’s what you like, isn’t it?”

Steve grins, his fingers parting your folds softly, his knuckle pressing against your swollen clit. You try to kill the moan which climbs up your throat before it can slip past your lips, but it refuses to die. “Like music to my ears,” he comments, his stubble grazing your skin as he peppers deliberate kisses to your thighs, his tongue a cool stimulant to your hot skin, “you’re a naughty girl, you know? Going through my things and then getting all worked up over what you find.”

You can’t bare to look down at his smug face. His blue eyes twinkle as he gazes up at you, and you force your eyes shut, the delicious, dirty feeling of desire brooding inside of you. It pulls at your heart and burns wildly inside of you, only to be smothered by the feeling of his fingers gliding through your folds.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what you found?”

You shake your head, your eyes scrunching shut as his tongue finally makes contact with your heat. “Oh, God,” you whimper as he glides the muscle through your folds, his fingers pushing inside of your cunt.

“Not God. Just Steve.”

His lips twitch, tugging upwards with a smile. Pleasure rides through you in a gentle wave as his tongue makes contact with your clit, his motions gentle as he suckles on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

It feels so deliciously wrong. You’re in his office, sat in his chair, with him between your legs. He wasn’t even meant to find you here — you were supposed to be in the kitchen when he got home, but you’d lost track of time.

“Since you won’t tell me, I’ll make an assumption, and I want you to tell me if I’m right.” His voice is gravely, rumbling against your cunt, and you shiver as his fingers curl inside of you. “You went through my emails. You saw Sharon Carter’s name and you had to click, and you read them in detail and you found information.”

“Yes,” you say shakily, groaning as his nose nuzzles into your pelvic bone, his tongue rolling small circles into your sensitive bud. “Yes, I read them. She’s — she’s a bitch and I don’t want you talking to her.”

His brows quirk upwards, his fingers carefully scissoring your tight cunt open. You clench down around him, the pointed look he’s shouting you making you tense. “She’s my spy. Why else would she have switched to Republican last minute?”

“Because you married me and she wishes it was her.”

A wave of pleasure ripples through you as he suckles on your clit, his fingers heavenly as they roll inside of you. “Is she the one getting her cunt eaten in my office, honey?” When you don’t answer, he hums, his voice muffled as he continues to roll his tongue up and down your sticky, wet folds, “no, she’s not, so stop being a brat and let me finish speaking.”

As if to make a point, his fingers still inside of you, and your chest burns with disappointment. “Okay. I’ll stop being a brat,” you submit to him, your voice shaking slightly as you buck your pelvis towards his hand.

“Good girl." His praise makes you shiver, a delicious pleasure crackling through you as his fingers contain their steady motions, his lips peppering soft kisses against your heat intermittently

“The information that you found is very important people, only meant to be seen by people in government.” A delicious pleasure cracks through you like a whip as his fingers glide through your glistening folds, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he rolls his thumb over your sensitive clit. “And, honey, you're not in government. You've got too much of a dumb baby brain for that."

You whine, your legs trembling involuntary as Steve licks up a deliberate stripe up your cunt, his tongue flattening against your clit. "I'm not dumb," you protest weakly, your thighs tensing as his fingers curl inside of you, the lewd squelching of your cunt echoing around his office walls.

Your body becomes electric with sparks, exploding with ecstasy as his tongue licks stripes up and down your slick. It's so intimate, so gentle — his movements are precise, your legs jolting at every movement, every lick.

"Really? You're not?" Steve pulls away, tutting from below you. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought that only dumb wives went through their husband's stuff without permission."

"I'm sorry," you say.

"You're not," he replies, his tongue flat as he swirls his muscle around your swollen bud, "but that's okay, honey. I don't expect my wife and her dumb, baby brain to feel sorry for me. I'm the man of this house. I don't need feeling sorry for."

His kisses grow sloppy, his nose pressing heavily into your pelvis. You let out a shaky breath, your stomach flipping as Steve's fingers glide in and out of your cunt. A moan catches in your throat, and you're unsure of whether or not it actually escapes your lips or dies before it gets to do so.

Steve's movements are skilled, deliberate. You melt into the office chair, the leather fabric growing slick beneath you as you softly behind to grind against his face. He's slow and teasing, his tongue swirling around you bud, nipping at it softly. The pinching pain makes you gasp, your breath hitching in your throat as he groans against your cunt.

"Come on, honey. I know you want to let go," he purrs against your cunt, the sensation sending shivers up your spine. "I know you're not holding that much of a grudge against me that you're denying yourself of an orgasm."

You pout. He's right — of course he's right, he's your husband and he knows what's best for you. You finally allow yourself to relax, fully, a soft whimper slipping past your lips as Steve's movements makes your stomach tighten.

And then, it happens. You grow tired of holding back, needy and desperate, and Steve's fingers curl inside of you again, and you let go. Your slick paints his face, your legs trembling as he laps at your heat, his groans sending sparks to your core.

By the time he pulls away, you feel weak. The sight of him only makes you grow weaker, his chin glistening with your slick, his eyes black and blown, a sultry grin tugging at the corner of his lips. His hand runs over his lips and he hums, satisfied with the orgasm that he drew from you.

"I'm sorry, honey. You should have never seen those emails, or the documents attached to them. They're not for you to be concerned about." His hand runs over your thighs, his motions gentle and soft as he caresses your skin. Steve's lips purse, his voice dropping dangerously low as he speaks. "But if you ever go through my emails again, you'll be in serious trouble. You got that, honey?"

Your body grows stiff as he reaches past you to turn the computer off, his lips nestling against your head in the process. The kiss he plants to your forehead is soft and gentle, and you smile up at him.

“Yes, Steve.”

You nod your head like an obedient little wife, and he smiles down at you as he does so.

Domesticated bliss keeps him sane.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #marvel avengers #captain america #captain america x you #dark steve rogers #dark chris evans #chris evans #.💌 steve rogers #steve rogers x you #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x y/n #dark steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #marvel #steve rogers fanfiction #Steve Rogers fluff

[gleafer]

Natasha likes them Mean, Lean and Green.

#illustrator #illustration #digital artist #black women #natasha romanoff #incredible hulk #hulk #marvel #marvel comics #marvel avengers #scarlet johansson #mark ruffalo #comic art #lineart #gleafer art #gleafer #pinch

[mlys05]

#marvel #marvel mcu #mcu #marvel movies #mcu movies #the avengers #avengers 2 #avengers #mcu avengers #marvel avengers #iron man #iron #man #tony stark #tony #stark #marvel iron man #mcu iron man #robert downey jr

[that-headcanon-girl]

tony: *towering over y/n not knowing that that's going to be his best friend* well well, who do we have here?

y/n: your mum

tony: my mum's dead

#tony stark #iron man #tony stark's best friend #marvel #avengers #avengers tony stark #tony stark x fem reader #tony stark x male reader #tony stark x reader #marvel iron man #marvel avengers #tony x reader #love you 3000 #avengers best friend #avengers headcanons #tony stark incorrect quotes #marvel incorrect quotes #pretty mf

[batnardomcfly]

*Tony stark getting a phone call at 3am*

Peter: mister stark you remember when you told me not to do something stupid

Tony sighing: yeah

Peter: I did something stupid

Tony halfway in the Iron Man suit: of course you did pete, of course you did

#marvel avengers #the avengers #peter parker #tony stark #spider man #iron man #iron dad and spider son #incorrect marvel quotes

[soulless-bex]

pjo x mcu au where nick fury learns about the mythological world and, in exchange for being gifted with clearsight (because he’s nick fury and not being able to see/know everything is making his paranoia worse), he gives the demigods their own subdivision of shield with the fundings that comes with to take care of mythological threats

did i mention that fury gets to have little to no control over said subdivision? like, he knows what they’re doing, but he knows better than to tell them what to do

cue the avengers being exceedingly frustrated when everyone refuses to tell them what the new shield department is for, and even more so when percy (who is obviously the head of the department what do you mean) starts to tell them (read: order) to leave his team alone

#my brain comes up with the most random shit #but this would be especially entertaining i think #the avengers walking into fury’s office demanding to talk with jackson #fury shrugging because he has no control over the kid and for all he knows he might have just stolen a jet and flew to australia #percy probably only got the status of head of department because he was the first demigod fury met #and he somehow managed to negotiate a promise of secrecy out of fury #percy jackson #pjo #pjo fanfic #pjoverse #pjo crossover #percy jackon and the olympians #mcu #pjo x mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel crossover #mcu crossover #the avengers #marvel avengers #nick fury #mcu fanfiction #fanfic prompt

[aintinacage]

You were made to be ruled.

William Shakespeare’s Avengers (Part 35/?)

#William Shakespeare’s Avengers #william shakespeare #the avengers #avengers #avengers 1 #marvel avengers #marvel #mcu #Loki #loki laufeyson #loki of asgard #mcu loki #loki odinson #loki of jotunheim #loki friggason #tom hiddleston #part 35

[unorthodoxx-page]

Drills and Rockets - WIP

Something I’ve been tinkering with.  Might add it to my Recoil and Impact series on AO3 once complete.  It needs a lot of work.

Rocket POV

Rocket can’t look at them after someone finally explains what they are.  He found them odd at first, in more ways than one.  Quill never mentioned any other intelligent life on this planet outside of humans.  Not like that mattered much, Quill isn-wasn’t exactly a reliable source when it came to Earth.  Plus, Rocket doesn’t really give a shit to ask.  They have work to do if they want to track Thanos down, and he’s not going to waste time questioning the origins and adventures of everyone who converges on this compound.  

So he listens to the introduction with half an ear.  He twitches, ear flickering at the mention of magic, but otherwise remains slumped on the ground.  Magic’s not going to do any good from the way Star boy talks about the Stones.  The Stones are beyond science and magic, Thor explained, they just are.  Rocket’s hand folds into a fist at the thought.  Nothing just is.

The room fills with more voices, the turtles going back and forth with every new one that joins before the one in purple suggests helping with ship repairs.  Rocket sits up.  “No,” he says.  “I can handle it.”  He already has to fix whatever Stark did to the thing, he doesn’t need another set of hands screwing it up.

“Do not worry,” Thor says, but it’s lifeless.  “Donatello has a singular mind.  Some of his inventions even manage to surprise me.”

“Right,” Rocket snorts.  This coming from the guy whose planet refers to all tech as magic.  Referred.  Rocket looks away from the Asgardian.  He forgets sometimes that Thano’s cruelty was long in motion for Thor before they got involved.

The other non-human moves on hooved feet to collapse in an open chair.  “The Asgardian is right.  Donatello has a natural intuition when it comes to technology.  A quality even I had not anticipated from the mutation.”

Rocket turns.

The one in blue offers a small smile.  “I thought there wasn’t any real intention behind our mutation.  You know, besides making us great warriors.”

“True,” the other sighs.  “But I could’ve done more if L-,” he stops.  “It doesn’t matter.  Donatello is far more intelligent than any human on this planet.  He can help you get that ship in the air faster than-”

The other stops, his voice stalling, and the rest of the room follows suit.  The silence last for a beat, maybe two before Nebula steps forward.  “Put the gun down, Rocket.”

#Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #guardians of the galaxy #rottmnt #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #avengers #Marvel Avengers #guardians of the galaxy vol 3 #rocket raccoon #nebula #quill #tony stark #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #corssover #crossover fic #tmnt leo #tmnt raph #tmnt donnie #tmnt mikey #draxum #thanos #the snap

[stanytork]

my muse forever and always

#artist on tumblr #illustration #fanart #marvel #marvel art #marvel edit #marvel comics #marvel studios #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel avengers #marvel black widow #the avengers #avengers art #avengers edit #avengers #black widow edit #black widow #black widow art #natasha romanoff edit #natasha romanoff fanart #natasha romanoff art #natasha romanoff

[sharkdadontumbl]

tired..

not dead . just didn have inspo since last post .

#sam wilson #the falcon #clint barton #hawkeye #samclint #falconhawk #marvel #marvel mcu #marvel avengers

[whereireid]

𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

pairing:dark!boss!steve rogers x virgin!fem reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.9k | warnings: dubious consent ! power imbalance (boss!steve, employee!reader) sexual naivety, height difference [6'6 steve, 5'3 reader], oral m receiving, rough p in v, misogyny, sexism, breeding kink, daddy kink, housewife kink, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, praise kink, spanking, captain kink, dumb baby reader (in steve's eyes), nonconsensual pregnancy, reader loves big mean stevie and loves when he taints her <3

PSA: YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. 18+ ! If any of these topics trigger you, please do not indulge in this content! This is a DARK!FIC, and is intended to come across as such. Minors, please dni - this content is 18+ and is under my #WOMNSFW tag.

summary: Steve Rogers is in deep need of a new personal assistant. You, an intern for Stark who often loiters around the Avengers Compound, put yourself forward for the position. You believe working under the Captain America will help you to get in good graces throughout your career. Little do you know, being America’s golden boy’s personal assistant means doing a little more than rummaging through files and writing letters.

—

So pretty, so perfect, so poised. Steve Rogers sits back comfortably in his chair, his eyes trained on you, never leaving, not even to acknowledge the poor waitress who puts his beer down in front of him. You speak proper, each word flowing from your mouth with purpose, your speech coherent, and your voice confident.

It makes Steve’s cock twitch in his trousers as he watches you. Your gaze on him doesn’t linger, but you do flinch when he reaches towards his beer too quickly. It makes his stomach flip, and he tries to hold back the hiss that threatens to slip past his lips. He knows he’s America’s Golden Boy, and that he’s supposed to be better than this; but he was raised in the 1930’s, and his ideals surrounding women never really fizzled out.

Your voice fades back in, and as you address him, it snaps Steve out of his train of thought. “So, I’m sure now that we’re well acquainted with each other, Captain Rogers—“

“Please. Just call me Steve. We’ve known one another long enough.”

He quirks a brow as your cheeks flood over in red, before beckoning you to continue your speech. “Well, then, Steve,” you swallow thickly, your voice dropping a few octaves, and Steve senses that he’s embarrassed you. “Now that we’re well - uh, better - acquainted, I hope that you can consider me for the position of your personal assistant.”

“What?” Steve’s blue eyes bore into yours, and they make you brood in anxiety. You feel childish, sitting in front of him in a flowery dress, at what could somewhat be considered an interview, asking to work for him. Perhaps you should’ve dressed nicer, more work appropriate? Yet, before you can blubber on, Steve continues; “doll, if you wanted to work for me, you could’ve just said. Did you do all of this to ask for the position?”

He blinks at you. Embarrassment washes over you like a tsunami wave as you blink back at him. Of course, you could’ve just said you wanted to work for him - you feel naive ever thinking otherwise. Steve’s not a stranger, you practically work with him every day, and he'd be more than enthusiastic to hear you out. He's not one of. the guys at work who ignore women and everything they have to say. He’s nice enough to always say hello to you and sometimes buy you coffee, and flowers if you were down. He's one of the good ones!“I thought it might’ve been inappropriate to ask you whilst you were training.” You shoot him a small smile, trying to ignore how the upwards tug of his lips makes your skin rise with goosebumps.

“Does Stark know you’re applying for this role?”

"He’s actually the one who suggested it.”

Steve takes a long sip of his drink. He stares at you over the rim of the glass, watching you squirm and ponder over his answer. He already knows the answer to your question, but watching you shuffle in your seat and act silly in front of him makes his cock throb, and he enjoys the feeling. You’re so innocent, pressing against the table, wide-eyed, acting as though your tits aren’t pressed together and basically on display for him. The dress is so low-cut. It makes him want to take you right here.

Did you wear that just to get him riled up? “Well, I can’t think of anybody more suitable to fit the position. You know the Compound, you know my office, and I’ve noticed you get on well with higher authorities. You seem like a doting employee.” He kisses his teeth slightly, looking down at the table, before looking up at you through his lashes. He tries to hold back the smirk on his face as he speaks, but it’s impossible not to: “of course, you will also be expected to work somewhat more flexible hours. Later start times, later finishes. We won't always be in the office at the compound - a lot of my additional work files are at my personal home office, but I can always make you up a key to give you easier access."

“Of course,” you chirp, nodding at him enthusiastically. “I’m okay with longer hours, and I can work around you and what you need.”

Steve grins. “Perfect.”

—

It has been about three weeks since you left your position as an intern at Stark Industries and began working for Steve Rogers. It was an exhausting process at first; the sudden change in routine, the heavy workload, the unsociable hours, and Steve often worried you would change your mind. If you couldn't bend for this position, you would break, and he was incredibly worried you'd do the latter. Perhaps because he hadn’t seen you frown so often before, but during the first fortnight of working as his assistant, your lips were always somewhat tugged downwards, and you were always so busy, unable to even joke with him.

You soldiered on, though. Managing to catch up to months worth of missed calls, avoided emails, old paperwork, and forgotten documents. Steve praised you every time you completed a task, and often he found you beaming up at him, prideful and flustered.

Yet, whilst peeking up from his desktop, he finds himself annoyed. You’re sitting quietly opposite him, noting down things and scheduling appointments, and he can’t help the twitch of his cock as he watches you do it. You're not incredibly busy anymore, and yet you're not engaging in any conversation with him. Steve knows you value professionalism, but he only really let you have this job because of his alternative motives when it comes to you.

His eyes flicker back to the computer screen, and then back to you. It's like before his brain can register what he's doing; he's doing it, but he doesn't mind. This is his office, after all, his space. You're his assistant, and if anything, you're supposed to assist him in doing it. His hands are wrapped around his thick, angry cock, and he pumps slowly, watching you intensely.

You're tapping away at your computer so innocently. Your eyes are wide and interested, and clearly whatever your scheduling for Steve has your entire attention because you don't even look up at him. He strokes his cock carefully, and slowly, and his breathing wavers as he runs a finger over his angry, red tip, using some of his precum for lube.

“You okay, Steve?” your voice fills the quiet room, and he looks over at you, his hands still wrapped around his cock. The naivety of your tone makes his cock twitch in his hands, and his pace slows. He makes eye contact with you, never breaking it as he slowly strokes his hand up and down his length. It makes him so much harder that you have no idea what he's doing, and he imagines what your lips would feel like wrapped around him.

“Fine, doll. Just a little sore.” Steve purses his lips as you nod. He meets your eyes, and you hold his gaze, concern plastering over your face.

You're so... modest. Completely unaware of what he's doing, and he loves it. Steve craves you; craves to taint the innocence which consumes you. You're too trusting for your own good, and one of these days, it's going to get you hurt.

Steve just needs to make sure it's him that hurts you, and nobody else.

“You do look awfully red, Steve.” You murmur across from him, concern painting your features. The heavy gaze your boss has on you makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable, but worry overrides any instinctive emotion. “Do you feel hot?”

Steve grunts in agreement with your question. He looks more disheveled than usual. His posture seems hunched, but he seems somewhat relaxed, and his gaze is hard and trained on you. You're unsure as to what's wrong - he's so red, it looks like he's burning up. Perhaps he has a fever, but you're sure the Super Soldier Serum ensures that he doesn't get ill. “Can I get you anything? Paracetamol? A glass of water?” you ask innocently, standing up from your desk chair, slowly walking towards him.

His computer monitor thankfully covers his crotch. Steve’s eyes don’t leave you, and it makes his cock leak when you softly begin to walk over to him. He’s almost certain you own nothing but inappropriate, seductive clothing; he’s seen more of your cleavage these past three weeks than he has anyone else’s, and it’s driving him crazy. The fact he’s managed to hold off from devouring you is insane, but he isn’t sure how much longer he can take.

Being the nice guy just doesn’t seem to be working. The hand which was stroking his cock stills, and he commands you to stop once you’re mere inches away, stood behind his monitor, so small he can hardly see you. “Do you own any appropriate clothing?”

His question is direct and his tone is reprimanding. Your knees wobble, and your head hangs slightly. Shame spreads throughout your body. “I didn’t realise this was inappropriate. My apologies.”

It’s unlike Steve to bark at you. Usually, he’s incredibly soft-spoken and considerate, yet it seems you’ve worn any patience he’s held for you thin. “Doll, every outfit you’ve worn this week has been low-cut and short.” He breathes, and your neck prickles with discomfort when you notice how dark and blown his pupils are. “I’ve been patient. I’ve been kind. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But I don’t think these kinds of… outfits would be appropriate elsewhere. You didn’t wear these outfits when interning for Stark.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Your subordinate manner only makes his cock twitch more, and he’s thankful his hand is sheathing his cock, because the precum that trickles out of its covers his skin and not his trousers. “I’ll try to be more considerate next time.”

It’s painful to let go of his length, but he has to, and he shoves it back inside of his trousers and innocently buttons them up. “Are you wearing these suggestive outfits to get a rise out of me?”

You gasp. “No. Never. I - Sir, I aim to be as appropriate and considerate as possible. I’m sorry I’ve been misleading you.” Steve rises from his seat, and you swallow thickly, feeling incredibly small compared to your boss. You’ve often been close to him - side by side, brushing shoulders, but he’s always been soft-spoken and gentle, apologetic and genuinely caring. Now, it seems like his patience is worn thin, and as opposed to seeing a civilian Steve, you feel as though you're standing in front of a soldier. “I can go and change now if you want?”

“No.” His tone is so low it matches that of a growl, and you cower weakly as he towers over you. Fear pulsates in your being as you stare up at him, suddenly feeling incredibly unsafe, and your heart races in your chest. Steve would never hurt me, you remind yourself, he’s one of the good ones.

You open your mouth to speak, but Steve shushes you. His finger splays over your lips, and you feel scolded and childlike. “I think you do it for attention.” His finger pushes against you, as does his body, as he stalks forward and you shuffle backward, trying to keep any space between the two of you. “You know, it’s been hard staying silent for this long. Watching you from afar, never knowing what to say or do.” His hot breath fans your ear, and Steve’s nostrils flare. “Trying to be a gentleman. Buying you coffee and flowers and cards when you were working at the Compound as a way to be friendly and nice. But I don’t think you want that.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.” You squeak out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Steve’s fingers gently press against your skin, wiping away any that spill, his skin icy against your own. “I-I’ve appreciated the gifts. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” He asks, his eyes shooting down at you. You nod your head eagerly, staring up at him, trying to ignore how the dark look in his eyes makes your stomach flip. “I don’t think you’re truly sorry. I gave you this job to be my personal assistant. I expected more of you. You’re dressing as whore, and you can’t even apologize correctly.”

You swallow thickly, staring up at him. “‘M sorry. I haven’t meant to present myself that way,” your voice wavers. “What would y-you deem a suitable apology, Steve?”

“Captain.” Steve’s fingers find their way into your hair, and you squeak slightly as he tugs at it. “You only get to call me Steve when you’ve been good, which you haven’t.”

“How should I apologize, Captain?”

Your voice is an incredulous whisper. The subordination you show drives Steve crazy, and it takes everything in him not to force your mouth open and push you onto his cock. No, he needs to coax you into it - make you agree that this is the best way to apologize. Any other way wouldn’t suffice.

It’s as though you can’t believe this is happening - and in a way, Steve can’t, either. He’s always imagined this happening - having you begging him to tell you how to do something in a way that’s deemed fit in his eyes, having you be in pain whilst doing it. He curses slightly, before breathing out, “use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship me.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship me’. Don’t expect me to repeat myself again.” He warns, blinking down at you, before muttering, “you’ve dressed like a whore, sweetheart. I think it’s only fair the Captain treats you as such.” His thumb drags down your lips, and you look up at him with such hesitation it makes his balls throb. He feels as though the look on your face could make him cum already.

Warmth floods over your cheeks. It feels wrong as Steve’s palms press heavily on your shoulders, the weight of him coaxing you down. A shudder leaves you as he forces you onto your knees in front of him, and you stare at his trousers, which are tight by the groin. “Captain, I don’t think -“ you swallow thickly, shaking as he comes down to unbutton his trousers, and flinching once his hands clasp yours, “-I don’t think this is appropriate.”

Your voice comes out in a hushed whisper, and he glares down at you, relishing in your embarrassment. Your eyelashes are wet and tears prickle your eyes still, “You’re on your knees now, doll.” He huffs, blowing out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. Your hands shake as he guides them to his trousers. “You might as well get on with it.”

“No I - I don’t want to.” Your voice wavers as he uses your hands to pry his cock out of his trousers, which is an angry red and seeping with cum, and you feel like scurrying away from it. “I-I haven’t ever done anything like this before.” Steve is stronger than you and the grip he’s got on your wrists makes you feel as though they will snap, so you decide not to, rather cowering away from his length in fear.

“Are you a virgin?” His question makes your head shoot up in embarrassment, your eyes wide and distraught, and he groans. “Oh my god, you’re a fucking virgin.”

“I never said I was,” you mutter, yelping when his hands strike you against the face. Fresh tears fall over old tear stains, and you flinch as his fingers splay over your chin.

He tuts. “Don’t lie to me. Are you a virgin?”

“Yes,” you murmur, shameful, eyes watery as you stare up at him. You sniffle, thankful for his gentle touch, which replaces the cruelty of his hands seconds ago. It makes your heart bloom with warmth as he brushes your face softly with his fingers, although he’s wiping away the pain he’s caused.

“My pretty little baby’s a virgin,” Steve coos, and the tone of his voice makes pressure form in your lower belly. “This mouth has never been around anyone’s cock before? Ever?”

There’s almost a deluded tone in his voice as he presses his tip against your lips. You quiver below him, your eyes trained on him as he pushes himself in your mouth. It feels wrong to do this with him - it feels exploitative, and whilst you opt to pull away from him, the wetness in your panties warns you otherwise. You’re enjoying this, and it’s making you feel terrible. You’re letting your boss take advantage of you and you love it.

You'd be lying if you denied the fact that you found Steve attractive. You had a thing for blonds, and the Golden Boy reputation he had made butterflies form in your belly. The fact he was so unlike what he seems makes your thighs clench and your pussy throb. A Golden Boy with an urge to taint; and somehow, you want to be tainted.

You hum against his cock, and it makes Steve’s stomach explode with heat. The wet of your tongue and the hot of your mouth is everything he’s ever wanted and more, and as your teeth scrape against him, he hisses, trying to hold back the smack he wants to deliver to you. You’re not ready for that yet; you’re a virgin, a sweet girl who needs taking care of. He needs to be gentle with you. “Nuh-uh-uh, doll. Cover those teeth of yours and hollow your cheeks - yes, like that, baby."

Steve breathes heavily as you take it in. It feels intrusive to your mouth as you suck on his cock, your tongue swirling up and down his tip. His hands make their way into your hair, and he gently begins to slide your head up and down, going at a quicker pace. It makes your belly ache with warmth as he does it, the feeling of his hands wrapped in your hair making you feel surprisingly... horny? It makes your face flush when you realize you're enjoying being used by Steve, and you eagerly begin to run your tongue up and down his length, tracing his veins and making sure to pay extra attention to his tip.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his balls slapping against your chin uncomfortably, “make your daddy’s cock nice and wet.” Steve’s pace quickens, and more and more of his cock forces its way into your mouth until your eyes are pricking with tears and you’re almost certain his length is going to suffocate you. Gag after gag follows through with each desperate thrust of his hips, and you clasp your hands around his thigh, looking up at him, eager to breathe. He doesn’t let you.

“My perfect little girl. Let daddy cum in your mouth and he’ll forgive you for dressing like such a whore.”

It’s not like you’ve got much of a choice anyway. In Steve's eyes, he's waited long enough to paint you in his cum, and it doesn’t take long for him to finish. He pulls out slightly, spewing cum over your cheeks and lips, grunting with approval at the sight of you. His innocent little personal assistant, who has never felt a man’s cock before today, has just had her throat fucked as though she were a fleshlight. Steve groans, steadying himself by using your head for support, and your nose crinkles as you swallow his cum which had painted your tongue.

It doesn't taste that bad.

“Best you clean yourself up.” Steve murmurs as you clamber up, knees shaking, the heat between your legs throbbing. “I don’t want my personal assistant to look so... defiled whilst she’s working alongside me.”

“Yes, Captain.”

As you attempt to scurry off to the bathroom, Steve stops you. “I want to make a few things clear about your position as my personal assistant, doll.”

You nod your head, uncertain as to what he might say next. The sight of you covered in his cum makes his heart bloom with pride, and he realises that he has finally got you where he wants you to be. “Your role as my personal assistant is to assist me with anything I deem necessary. Whether that be sexual or otherwise. You got that?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good girl.”

—

Your body has been aching and sore for days. Forcing yourself up from your desk chair, you jolt slightly at the sudden pain which shoots up through your spine. You look away from Steve’s hot gaze, which makes you feel flustered and funny, and you begin to flip through pages in your folder, desperate to keep yourself occupied and not draw too much attention from Steve.

“Come here, doll.” His voice is gentle, his arms wide and open, urging you in.

You nod your head, opting to agree. You've become conditioned to his sexual advances, and he accepts when you're not in the mood, saying that he doesn't want to pressure you. Steve is a good guy in that way; he wants you to move at your own pace. You only have to do this for a few more months or so, as that’s how long your contract is.

Steve taps his lap. You comply, carefully seating yourself atop of him, crinkling your nose when he gets too close. He notices, but he doesn’t care, leaning backward slightly and brushing a curl away from your face.

“What have I done for you to hate me?” his once confident voice is quiet, oozing with rejection.

You blink at him. “I - I don’t hate you.”

Steve hums, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. You shuffle uncomfortably in his lap, looking up at him with big, doe eyes, and it makes his cock twitch. You’re so innocent, so friendly, a big baby that needs protecting from the world. All Steve wants to do is protect you and keep you safe. “You don’t look at me the same anymore,” he notes quietly. “You used to look at me like I was a savior before you started working under me.”

You shuffle uncomfortably, looking up at him through your lashes. He moves slightly to get comfortable, and your breath hitches in your throat when his clothed crotch rubs against yours. “I still think of you as a savior, Stevie,” you murmur quietly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

You’ve worked for Steve long enough now to know that the way around difficult conversations is to stroke his ego. His hand snakes around your back, and he traipses his fingers up and down your back slowly. “No bra, huh? What have I told you about dressing appropriately?”

“S-sorry, Steve.”

“Mmm, I forgive you, baby.” His hands fall to your skirt, and his fingers slowly ride up them. The material parts with the moving of his hands, and your body flushes with heat when his finger slides up and down your slits. He tuts. “No underwear, either? This'll be a little harder to forgive.”

You squeak slightly as Steve pushes a finger inside of you. “Y-you asked me not to wear underwear when I'm around you.”

“Nuh-uh-uh. I don’t remember that, doll. Don’t make things up to try and make yourself better off.” Except, he does remember it because he practically commanded you to strip your underwear off the last time you wore some when working alongside him. But you don’t need to remember that. Steve wants you to believe everything you do for him is because you want to do it, not because he’s told you to.

“Really?” you squeak as he curls his finger inside of you, ensuring he hits against your spongy spot. You try to ignore the heaviness of Steve’s gaze, and you swallow dryly, stuttering as Steve slips another digit in, beginning to fuck you faster with a ‘come-forth’ motion.

“Yeah, doll. Maybe you just wanted your daddy to have easier access to this pretty pussy of yours. I know how much you like getting that little pussy touched.”

His fingers slow down inside of you, and he gazes down at you with a raised brow. You protest, trying to roll against his fingers, but he grabs your thighs and shakes his head. “Bad girls don’t get to feel good.”

“I’m not bad," you whine, and Steve shakes his head in response.

“You lied to daddy. Said he wanted you to wear no underwear. You said it like I’ve been forcing you not to wear underwear when it was your decision.”

The sharpness in his tone makes you recoil, and you still your lower half. against him, not wanting to make him anymore angrier than he already is. “I-I’m sorry. It was my decision. I’m sorry for lying.”

Steve sucks in a breath through his teeth. “You know, I’ve been holding back these past weeks. I wanted to break you in.” He pulls his fingers out of you, and you whine in protest, but your sounds are muffled when he shoves them inside of your mouth. You suck instinctively, and he groans against you. “I’ve been wanting to use that pretty pussy of yours for so long, doll. Been wanting to defile you and make you mine.”

Before you can even react, the tip of his cock is pressing against your slits. “I’ve wanted to fuck you and fill you up with my cum for so long now.” His voice is a growl, and you feel frozen in place, beginning to slowly shake your head. “Fuck you full of my babies. And I know you want that, too.” He groans as he presses harsh kisses against your neck, his teeth grazing against your skin.

“No, Steve,” you breathe heavily as he holds you into place, your own body no match for the strength of his. “I- I don’t want that. I'm not ready for a baby."

“But you are. You just don’t know it yet.” His cock pushes into you, and you let out a whimper, struggling against him. Your walls sheathe him, and you let out a pained squeak. "Look at how well you take me, baby. You were made for me. You’re so wet for me. Look at you, trying to deny your rightful place as my subordinate. My pretty little girl.”

He forces his cock into you slowly. Your walls squeeze around him, sheathing his cock so well, and you whimper, squeezing your nails into his shoulders so hard you feel as though you're going to leave behind crescent moons. "No, Steve," you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut, desperately trying to get rid of the burn between your leg. "'t hurts. Stevie, I'm not ready."

"You're ready, baby," he seethes, throwing his head back slightly as he pushes his hips up further. "Your little virgin pussy is hugging my cock so fucking tight."

A mewl escapes you as his cock brushes up against the spongy spot inside of you. Tears prick the corner of your eyes, and mascara begins to brew below your lash line. Steve stares at you, his gaze passionate, wondering how he ever got so lucky. Not only has he got you exactly where he needs you, but he's also ruining you, tainting you for other men.

The only way he can truly ensure other men will leave you alone is to fill that belly of yours with his baby, so that's exactly what he intends to do. "Does that feel good?" he whispers, kissing your cheek softly. "You feel so full, baby?"

"So full, Steve," you whine, trying to adjust yourself to gather more comfort. Your walls rub against his cock as you adjust, and it feels kind of... good, so you do it again. Your hips slowly roll atop of him, and you whimper to yourself, pain mixing with pleasure.

Steve lets you bounce on him. It's a slow pace, and it doesn't hurt, though it feels unnatural to have something this big inside of you. It's not that you're entirely sexually naive - you've masturbated before, but this is completely different. Steve is huge, and with every roll of your hips, you can feel him. There's no room for escape, and your stomach flips as you throw your arms around his neck. "Steve," you breathe, eyes flittering shut as the coil inside of you threatens to break and snap, your toes curled in desperation. It feels as though you're just inches away from experiencing pure ecstasy, but you can't reach it, and it's making you so frustrated, you feel as though you could cry. "H-help me, Steve."

"You want Daddy's help when getting off?" he coos, brushing a curl away from your face. You stare down at him, biting your lip and nodding eagerly, and he groans slightly. So cute, so small, so ready for him. This is how you should be - begging for his help, needing him, relying on him. You're just a woman, after all; you need a big, strong man like Steve to take care of you.

His hips thrust up, and it's incredibly painful at first. Steve's pace is nothing compared to yours - you were being slow and gentle with your body, and he just wants to ruin it. His hips smash into you, his cock sliding in and out, and he peppers harsh kisses against your neck. You mewl against him, pressing up against his chest to feel him, your toes curling in your flats, your eyes dazed, mouth gaping. You look like a picture-perfect image, and Steve grunts as he fucks you, wanting to tip you over the edge.

It doesn't take long until the coil snaps. You murmur and shake against him, your thighs clenched as you cum, squirting all over his cock, drenching his balls and trousers. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," you yell against him, his cock relentlessly fucking you throughout your orgasm.

"I'm gonna fill you with my babies," he growls, "drown your pussy with my fucking cum."

"No," you cry out, unable to move as he thrusts himself into you; again and again and again. You feel so helpless, so small and weak against him, and you stare up at him. His pupils are dark and blown, and his Adam's apple bobs desperately, his nostrils flaring as his cock twitches inside of you. "Please, pull out!"

"I don't think so, baby," he grunts, and with one final thrust of his hips, he finishes inside of you. Your walls squeeze him simultaneously, and he lets out a low, powerful groan, as he coaxes your walls with his cum. "Gotta make you a nice little housewife. Gonna have you popping out all of my babies."

Steve brushes away the tears which slip down your cheeks. He doesn't even realize how hard he's been holding you until he lets go, your arms riddled with handprint marks which he's sure will bruise. "Don't cry, doll," he murmurs, "you knew what came with the job."

"No, I didn't," you sniffle, pressing your head into his neck. It's wrong how his warmth and his smell act as a safety valve for you when he's the reason you're so upset. "I would've never - I would've never gotten into this if I knew what you expected from me."

A gentle sob racks your body, and Steve looks down at you, caressing your face gently. "Baby, stop crying. You're ruining that little face of yours." In honesty, Steve's patience is running thin. He's been good to you; caring, doting, paying you well for an easy job, and this is how you react? You cry into his arms after he tells you he's going to pump you full of his children? He's Captain America, for God's sake. You should be begging for it. "Just - Jesus fucking christ," he huffs as you continue to cry, grabbing your face harshly, and the sudden grip shocks you. "Stop crying. If you're going to speak, at least try and be fucking coherent."

Nodding your head, you wipe your eyes, which are tender and you assume, red. "I'm not ready for this," your voice shakes as you speak, and Steve almost feels a bit sorry at the sight of you. "I- I don't want this."

"Only good girls get what they want," Steve states plainly, staring at your disheveled face. He certainly got what he wanted - you look ruined, and you feel it, too. He imagines his cum is mixed with a bit of your blood; what, with him defiling you and all, he probably broke your hymen as well. The thought makes him grin to himself, and he utters, "I don't think you've been good, so you don't get what you want, baby."

"I'm sorry! I just - this doesn't seem like a fair punishment! I don't want this!" You cry out as Steve delivers a harsh smack to your ass, and you gaze up at him pathetically through your lashes as he tuts.

"I don't care if you think it's fair or not. You've been teasing me ever since you were an intern at Stark Industries, doll. I've been waiting to breed you for that long," his voice vibrates against you, and you shake your head, ashamed that you even thought you could get away with arguing against him. He's the Captain, and he has all of the control. "Anyway, you're just a dumb little baby. You have no idea what you want right now. But I do. I know what's good for you. Don't you trust me, baby?"

#steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve x y/n #marvel avengers #the avengers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x female reader #chris evans #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x y/n #steve drabble #dark steve rogers #captain america #captain america x you #steve rogers series #oneshot #dark chris evans #womnsfw #1k 💕

[lostremind]

Two sentences that broke me:

- "Let me go"

- "It's okay"

⧗ No, it's not okay and I can't let go ⧗

#natasha romanoff #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #black widow #avengers endgame #marvel avengers #Mcu #mcufam #it's okay #Let me go

[mlys05]

#marvel #marvel mcu #mcu #marvel movies #mcu movies #avengers #avengers 2 #avengers age of ultron #marvel avengers #mcu avengers #marvel hulk #mcu hulk #incredible hulk #hulk #wanda #wanda maximoff #maximoff #bruce banner #bruce #banner

[bandshirts-andbooks]

Why did this get flagged?? 😂

#marvel captain america #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #merry christmas #captain america #steve rogers #steven grant rogers #avengers #bucky barnes #marvel avengers #stucky #all i want for christmas is you #mariah carey #uncle sam #mcu memes #the first avenger #fanart #marvel fanart #avengers fanart #captain america fanart #steve x bucky #bucky x steve

[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 20. Cherry

Previous chapter

Masterlist

Hi friends! Apologies for the wait on this chapter but I hope you enjoy nonetheless <33

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, Pietro and Nadia being Pietro and Nadia, some spice (only a little: like half a chili pepper), cursing, jealous Pietro.

The sound of running water filled my ears before I turned off the bathroom tap, drying my hands and face. When I put the towel down Pietro was leaning against the doorframe signature smirk across his lips.

“What?”

He shook his head, pushing off the wall to approach me. His hands braced on the counter, and he pulled us both forward so that I was pressed between him and the vanity. I could feel his breath on the side of my face as he leaned down toward me. He pressed a kiss to my cheekbone before turning my face by the chin to look at him. “This is all I can think about.” Before I could respond he was planting a scorching kiss against my lips, pressing me more firmly to the bench. The warmth that was always emanating from his body pressed into my back through the fabric of our clothes as he kissed down my neck, nipping at my shoulder. I leaned my head to the side giving him better access. Pietro’s hands squeezed my hips, one moving to the front to fiddle with the hemline of my t-shirt. My heart was racing as his hand slipped beneath the fabric, smoothing across my stomach and up my ribs to rest just below my bra. “Is this what you want?” He murmured against my ear as I threw my head back. “You want me to touch you?” I felt incapable of words then. Pietro turned me to face him swiftly before lifting me and slipping me onto the bench behind us, his body pressed to mine as he stood between my legs. “Tell me what you want, Prinţesă.” In a moment of confidence, I lifted my shirt over my head, tossing it across the room and grabbing his hand to place it over my heart that was thrumming in my chest. He moved impossibly closer, his hand sliding to cup my breast over my bra, his lips were on me again almost instantly, trailing wet kisses down my collarbone and sternum.

“I want- I want…” He spread my legs, falling to his knees between them and that was when I woke up, launching upright in bed and clenching the duvet to my chest. “What the fuck?” I muttered to myself running a hand through my hair. I could not believe I had just dreamed that I must have been going insane. Try as I might it seemed impossible to part with the images that had invaded my slumber, a cold shower didn’t even do the trick.

I resolved that perhaps a run was in order to clear my head. Dressed and prepared to head off, I yanked the door to my room open rushing swiftly into the hall only to walk directly into someone. The collision almost had me stumbling but two warm hands holding my upper arms righted me. Pietro smiled sweetly at me and apparently that was enough to set my heart racing. “Good morning, Nadia, wherever are you off to in such a rush?” I swallowed hard as I looked at him, his hair was damp as though he’d just gotten out of the shower, he wore a blue and white crewneck sweatshirt, and it was enough to make me lightheaded. I was irritated, to say the least at my body’s ridiculous reaction to him.

“I… was going to go for a run.” It was quiet and didn’t sound anything like me. He furrowed his eyebrows a little.

“Is everything alright?” I nodded quickly, side-stepping him with a clenched jaw. The soft look in his eyes was too much to bear right now. “Liar.” He snickered, following closely behind me. “What’s wrong?”

I shrugged, not looking back at him but apparently that wouldn’t fly with him. He took ahold of my wrist gently, spinning me to face him and taking a step closer. I sighed exasperatedly. “Nothing’s wrong, really, I’m just tired.” I managed a little smile to appease him, though it came easier than I’d expected. It faltered, however, when he moved ever closer. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, the corner of his lips upturned in the whisper of an earnest smile. He leaned down and kissed me softly, just once before pulling away. I leaned up, chasing his lips with my own and kissing him again.

“So, I’m assuming we’re still on the same page about the boyfriend, girlfriend thing?” My smile returned, brighter now as I nodded at him. “Good, glad we cleared that up.” His lips were on mine once again and I breathed a laugh against them. “You’re going for a run?”

I said yes.

He hummed. “Okay, I’ll come with you.” I tensed slightly, images of him pressed against me flickered through my mind. “… Or I don’t have to if you don’t want?”

God why was he so fucking considerate?!

“No, I do want you to!” I almost cringed at my words. Pietro raised an eyebrow at me. “I do want you to come with me.”

“You’re being very strange.” He hadn’t let up on me. From the door of my bedroom and the duration of our run he’d pestered me, encouraging me to tell him what was bothering me. “Please, draga mea.” My darling. I only ran faster. A streak whirled past me before stopping in my path. Pietro crossed his arms over his chest, watching me expectantly. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Tell me what’s going on.” He spoke firmly.

My hands fell over my hips, and I narrowed my eyes at the man before me. “I told you nothing is going on.”

That little smart-ass smirk made a home on his lips, and he took a step closer to me. “And I think you’re full of shit, so let’s try it again.”

“Or what?” I bit back. “What will you do?”

My sass had his smirk doubling in size, his eyes narrowing for a moment, before flickering down to my hands that remained settled on my hips. He crossed the space between us, stopping right in front of me. “What would you like me to do, Prinţesă?”

The moment he spoke that word my heart skipped, mind unable to stop thinking about his lips all over me. I dug my fingers into my sides, attempting to steel myself.

“You’re pissing me off.”

“Par for the course at this point, and you’re the one who wanted to be my girlfriend so...” He shrugged, eyes dipping to my lips momentarily. I couldn’t handle this proximity. There was the slightest sheen of sweat on his forehead and his hair had become tousled by the wind, falling a little messily around his eyes. “Tell me.” He urged yet again.

“Jesus Christ, Pietro! I just had a strange dream, alright?!”

He looked indescribably pleased with himself. “Okay.” He nodded. “Was it about me?” The tone he took was nothing if not teasing, an attempt to rile me up, lighten the tension but my brain seemed content to short-circuit the moment he’d spoken those words. My unwitting hesitation certainly did not go unnoticed by him and before I could defend myself, he was speaking again. “Oh my god, it absolutely was!” He was positively beaming at me then.

“No! No, it had nothing to do with you, idiot!”

“Was it dirty? What was I doing in the dream? Was I as handsome as I am in real life?” I groaned, pushing past him and picking up my pace again. “You’re going to have to run faster than that.” He appeared before me again, running backward so he could continue to taunt me. “Walk me through it, play-by-play, spare no detail. Was it the first time you’d dreamt of me? It must have been some dream for you to be acting so weird after.”

I shook my head, settling on ignoring him now. This only seemed to please him though, there was no winning here. He put his hands out to stop me once more. I rolled my eyes heavily, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m getting sick of this conversation very quickly.”

“Okay, okay, just one more question and I’ll drop it.”

“Fine! What?” I asked exasperatedly.

“What were we doing in your dream?”

His voice dropped as he spoke; I swallowed heavily feeling a little light-headed. This was not okay, I wasn’t about to let him have all the power so I shifted gears, letting my weight fall to one hip and closing the distance between us, moving to my tip toes so I could brush my lips over his. His breathing stuttered a little and I could feel his heart racing as my hand landed on his chest. “I could tell you. Or…” I placed one small peck on his lips, pulling back just a little to see his eyes closed, lips chasing mine. “I could show you.” His lips parted and his hands found my hips.

“Nadia.” He leaned forward to kiss me, but I pulled back out of reach, prompting his eyes to open. He furrowed his eyebrows at me. “What-”

“One more question and you’ll drop it, right? Isn’t that what you said?” A look of utter betrayal and indignation crossed his features then, but I was running off before he could utter anything else.

I was laughing the whole way back to the compound, ignoring the streak the shot passed me partway back. When I arrived, Pietro stood on the grass, waiting with his arms crossed. “That was not very nice.”

“Well, you were the one who wanted to be my boyfriend.” I taunted, feigning a pouty face at him as I walked by.

“Oh, I see, you think you’re very funny.”

I walked into the kitchen with Pietro hot on my tail. The smell of cinnamon and freshly baked goods overtook me the moment I stepped into the room. Vision stood behind the counter, a baking tray in his hands. “Good morning, Nadia and Pietro.” He placed the tray down to reveal cinnamon rolls as he poured frosting over. I furrowed my eyebrows watching the strange man intently. “Would you like to try one?” He offered, looking back up at me and placing one of the desserts on a plate which he inched toward me.

“These are insanely good, Vis,” Sam spoke from the table, throwing the last bite of his roll into his mouth. I hesitantly approached the counter, inspecting the food before picking it up. It smelled divine but the idea of eating something baked by the peculiar humanoid creature before me was a little off putting. Before I could take a bite Pietro leaned over me, demolishing half the roll in a single mouthful. I narrowed my eyes at him as he grinned back, licking the icing from his lips slowly.

“You are pushing it,” I warned the silver-haired man who merely snorted in response.

“Ah, young love.” Tony sighed entering the room and stealing a cinnamon roll from the tray.

I bit into mine soon after, shocked by the explosion of flavor on my tastebuds. “Jesus that’s good.” I stuffed the cinnamon roll into my mouth before Pietro could steal anymore. “Do you even eat; how do you know how to bake?”

“I have no need to consume nutrients in the way humans do, though, I can simulate the ‘eating’ action if it would make you more comfortable.” There was silence between us for a moment as I stared blankly at him, unmoving. “And I used the internet to learn the recipe for these.”

“Okay.”

I turned around stiffly, wandering over to the table where Natasha sat, Pietro heading off to pester his sister. Approximately the second I sat down Nat was laying out possible options for what I would wear to the gala.

“There’s a strip of boutiques about a 30-minute drive from here, we can head over later today to have a look.” I nodded, taking a sip of my juice. “Also, I invited Wanda,” Natasha spoke so quickly that her words almost jumbled into one. I choked on my drink, coughing violently, and taking another sip to ease the discomfort. The look I gave her would have had a lesser woman cowering, but she didn’t even flinch under my glower. “Oh, do not even act like that, Nadia. I know you too well to be fooled by this whole act, you don’t hate her and I’ve had enough of the division, the girls need to stick together.”

I rolled my eyes, letting my head fall back with an exasperated sigh. “Why must you force the high road on me so often.”

…

The dress I selected was crisp white satin, one shoulder, with a slit that rose up to the apex of my thigh. Natasha shoved a pair of matching elbow-length gloves into my hands and would not hear any protest on the matter. Wanda and I had exchanged barely a sentence with one another on the drive here, it was strange. I didn’t really know what to say to her, how does one begin the journey to the high road? She fiddled with a sage green slip still on a hanger as I took a seat on the plush round ottoman that sat by the fitting rooms. I had felt her glancing at me from time to time as we waited for Nat to finish trying on her pile of dresses.

“Full disclosure, I know about you and Pietro.” I looked over at her then. “He didn’t tell me; I just know him too well and I might have dug around in his head a little to confirm my suspicions. Anyway, the point is, I know that you don’t exactly like me, but I think you’re good for him and his happiness is the only thing that matters to me, so I just wanted to say I’m really happy you have each other.”

“Trust is not something that comes particularly easy to me, and we did not start on a very positive foot. I don’t dislike you, Wanda, but I also don’t trust you.”

She nodded a merciful look in her eyes. “I understand, and I don’t blame you.”

“But… I am willing to start anew. What is the expression? A clean slate?” Her eyes lit up at my words, the corners of her lips upturning. “I cannot promise that I will ever trust you,” I added. “But we can try to start over if that’s what you want.”

Her expression was soft, gratitude and relief shining in her eyes. “Hi, I’m Wanda.”

I almost laughed at the gesture. This was pretty ridiculous, and I could not help but think back to the day in the shipyard. The debilitatingly traumatic memories she’d forced me to relive, the feeling of the cold concrete against my palms as I begged to leave the mind prison, she’d locked me in. The thought made me hesitate, a voice in the back of my head screaming at me to turn my back and continue the cold shoulder routine. She’d proven she couldn’t be trusted, why should I give her another chance? However, despite that, despite my reservations and distrust I silenced the voice, swallowing heavily and meeting her eyes once more. “Nice to meet you, Wanda, I’m Nadia.”

“Oh my god, you guys have got to see this dress!” Natasha called from the fitting room.

Some of us elected to stay in the city for the gala, rather than travel from the compound on the night of the event. I had no strong opinion on either option as long as we got this night over quickly and as painlessly as possible. I’d attended these fundraisers before, the cause was good and completely not what I took issue with. The part that I loathed was being forced to schmooze with the New York elite as they pretended to care about the poor and disenfranchised. The whole thing felt disingenuous, and I’d rather steer clear of it altogether, but I would have no such luck. Unfortunately for me being a public figure came as a package deal with this whole Avenger thing. I’d managed to mostly avoid it until now.

I sighed exasperatedly as I sipped from the champagne that Natasha had poured for me whilst she did my hair. “Don’t be so dramatic, it’ll be nice to have a night out, and you love the city.” I met her eyes in the mirror before rolling mine heavily.

“Why are you so set on this?”

“Because I think it will be a nice change of pace for us all. A chance to let our hair down and have a moment of normalcy.”

“In other words, you’re doing this to avoid thinking about something else… someone else?”

She pulled my hair a little harder than necessary, causing me to scowl at her reflection. She didn’t even pretend to be innocent as she glanced up to meet my eyes for a split second. Her face pulled into an expression of distaste. “And I thought you didn’t understand people.”

The corners of my lips upturned, and I shrugged a little. “I don’t, I just know you.”

She shook her head, remaining quiet for a long while. I watched her as she continued pinning and fiddling with strands of my hair. “Fury said they got a ping off the quinjet. It gives a radius of where its last location was. It could be a lead.”

“But?”

“He left for a reason, Nads, I’m not sure going after him wouldn’t be purely selfish.” I nodded slowly, taking a beat to process her words. I didn’t really know what the solution was, what would make her happiest in the long term because part of me wanted to tell her to throw logic to the side and go after him but the other part of me agreed with what she was saying. Going to find him when he obviously wanted to be alone may not have been the best course of action, but in the same breath I didn’t want her to get stuck in time; unable to move forward because she was too caught up. “So maybe we just wait him out? Circle a date some time from now and if there’s still no word from him by then we go find him.” She placed a hand on my shoulder for a second, still looking down at my hair, but I knew she’d heard me. “I heard you and Wanda talking at the boutique.” She unraveled the strand of hair she’d been curling. “It was nice what you did, very unlike you, but nice.”

“You don’t think I’m nice?” A cheeky grin spread across my lips as I met her eye in the mirror.

She breathed a laugh. “Truthfully, I think that you’re a little sweetheart who likes people to think she’s heartless. That being said, clean slates aren’t really you’re thing.”

“No, they’re not.” I watched her as she began to pin strands of hair back into a curly updo. “Perhaps I’m going soft.” I teased.

“Or someone has proven to you that it is okay to be a little more open.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Okay, enough of the mushy, deep, and meaningful shit I beg it’s beginning to make me sick.”

“Yeah, definitely not getting soft.” She hummed gesturing that she was done with my hair. I checked her handy work in the mirror nodding approvingly at the hairstyle. “Jesus, you look good, it’s really very difficult to get ready around you when you look like that.”

“Oh, shut up, look at yourself, woman.” She glanced in the mirror nodding as if she saw my point and smoothing her hands down her black dress. I giggled at her antics, adjusting the buckle of my shoe and doing one final check of my outfit before approaching the door.

When the elevator doors opened the first thing I saw was the back of his head, silver hair neatly styled atop. The second my heels clicked against the ground he spun around to face me, stiffening almost instantly. My heart rate spiked as his eyes traveled down to my feet before dragging ever so slowly back up my form, before finally meeting my gaze, eyebrows raised, and lips parted. He looked like something out of a dream; literally. He was in a midnight blue tuxedo that fit him like a glove. I’d never seen him so dressed up before I realized. I liked it… a lot. Words did not come easily to me as I watched him approach at a glacial pace.

“I don’t think I should kiss you right now.”

“Why?” The word was out before I could stop it, breathy and quiet.

His lips upturned at my tone, though that glint remained present in his eyes. “Because if I do, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

I couldn’t bite back the smile that was forming across my lips. My fingertips slid down his forearm, intertwining with his as I moved to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I like you’re suit.”

The drive to the venue consisted of both of us stealing glances at each other and smiling at our laps like school children. As much as I found it absurdly childish behavior – I couldn’t seem to stop. “So, what exactly is a gala?” He finally spoke up.

I rolled my eyes at the reminder. “It’s like a charity, fundraiser thing.”

“Is that not a good thing?” I shrugged at his words. “Why do you hate the idea so much.”

“In theory, yes, it’s a good thing. In practice, it’s an antiquated ceremony for the wealthy to talk about how good of people they are.” One side of his mouth lifted with amusement. “And besides, I hate most things, so it’s not exactly a high bar.”

“Not me though.” He teased, rolling his head on the headrest to face me. I raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t hate me… you like me too much.” My eyes rolled again, though a little smile broke out across my lips.

The chandelier hung in the center of the room painted the walls in a yellow glow. Pietro scanned the quickly filling room as we entered, though he seemed more interested in the art that hung from the walls rather than the company. I turned to him then. “If I’m going to get through this, I’m going to need hard liquor.”

He laughed at my words. “I’m going to use the toilet; I want to know if it’s as fancy as the rest of this place.”

I shook my head, breathing a laugh as I split from his side and approached the bar. “Scotch on the rocks please.”

The bartender nodded, beginning to pour ice into a crystal glass.

“I just worry about the detriment to the city, isn’t giving the money just encouraging laziness that leads to homelessness in the first place.” I scanned the men who stood just a few paces from me. Balding, middle-aged, Rolex on their wrists.

I sighed heavily, turning back to the bartender. “Actually, could you make it a double?”

A breathy laugh filled my ears, prompting me to glance toward the man who’d just stepped up to the bar, placing his drink down beside me. “My sentiments exactly.” He added, beginning to fold up the long cane that was in his hands. I didn’t recognize the dark-haired man peering in my direction from dark red lenses. Well, likely not actually looking, I realized putting together the context clues. I chose to hum dismissively in place of an actual response. He smiled toward the ground, evidently not put off by my cold countenance. “Not a fan of these events I take it?”

“Oh, no, I love nothing more than listening to self-important old men speak.”

The man laughed again. “I’m guessing you’re Nadia?” I narrowed my eyes at him, leaning back a little in my seat and crossing my arms. “I know Tony Stark.” He clarified. “He told me to look out for you. Well, not look, but you know what I mean.”

The corners of my lips tugged upward just slightly, a very minuscule laugh falling from me. “Oh, so he warned you about me?”

“Not exactly, he might have mentioned you were something of a cynic.”

I rolled my eyes, thanking the bartender when he placed my drink before me. “Some say cynic, I say realist.”

His smile brightened. “I’m Matt, by the way.”

“Good for you.”

Truthfully, I was expecting him to walk away at that, yet he only laughed again. I did not understand what it was about me that made others think I was interested in chit-chatting. Perhaps it was my sunny disposition, or perhaps I smiled too much. “Okay, so Tony wasn’t bluffing.” He sat down beside me. “So, realist, why are you here if you hate it so much?”

“Because I was told by a very scary redhead that I didn’t have a choice.” He snickered at my answer. “I don’t exactly hear you jumping to the defense of this particularly cruel breed of torture, so why are you here?”

“I guess you could call it networking. My law partner and I are here on behalf of our firm.”

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest and turning in my seat to face him. “Why are you still talking to me?”

His eyebrows rose slightly, and a startled chuckle fell from his lips. “Maybe I’m a masochist… or maybe I just like the sound of your voice.”

“Yes, she has a very nice voice.” Pietro appeared beside me, eyeing Matt, with a tight smile across his lips.

Matt tilted his head in Pietro’s direction, lips upturned as he sipped his drink. “I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Matthew Murdock.” He held his hand toward a very tense man at my side. Pietro reached across me, his cologne overtaking my senses along with the warmth radiating from him, our eyes met for just a moment as he took my drink and downed it before turning back to Matt and finally shaking his hand. I looked between the two, mildly amused by the bizarre interaction.

“Pietro Maximoff.”

I raised an eyebrow at the way his voice sounded but he ignored the look. “Nice to meet you, Pietro. Nadia and I were just discussing our shared dislike of these events.” Matt said, gesturing around the room.

“Is that right?” Pietro’s hand moved to grip the back of my chair. “Well, apologies for interrupting such a fascinating conversation but I need to borrow Nadia.” Before Matt could respond, Pietro was heading toward the staircase.

I excused myself, attempting to contain my amusement as I followed the silver-haired man. He continued walking ahead of me until he reached a room off the hall of the second floor, where he pushed the door open and waited for me to enter. The room appeared to be a small lounge of some kind, with book-lined walls and a sitting area consisting of a chaise lounge and armchairs. I walked into the room, turning to watch him enter and close the door behind himself.

When he looked at me again his eyebrows were raised, and his mouth was drawn into a tight frown.

“What?”

“Are you serious?���

I sat on the arm of one of the armchairs. Easily one of the worst parts of this whole human empathy thing was caring so much what other people were upset about. I couldn’t deny though that when it was Pietro, I couldn’t stop caring. “Why are you acting strange?”

“Oh, I’m sorry were we not just in the same room? I leave you alone for 5 minutes and you’ve already got yourself an admirer.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Obviously. He was clearly flirting with you!”

I rolled my eyes at his words. “So?” I shrugged.

“So?!”

“I wasn’t flirting with him so what does it matter.”

Pietro’s jaw clenched and he paced before me. “It matters.” He shook his head; I could practically see the steam emanating from his ears. It made the tingling that was present in my belly intensify. “And you know what? It’s because of this damn dress! You look fucking devastating, of course, he’d flirt with you.”

I breathed a laugh. “Something tells me the way I look didn’t have much to do with it.”

He sent a sharp glare my way, evidently not amused. “You think this is funny?” He raised an eyebrow, stopping before me.

“Yes. Very.”

The air between us was electric as he moved closer, the corners of his lips quirking upward. “I don’t think it is.”

“Who knows Pietro, maybe it’s my dazzling personality, or innate approachability, it’s one of life’s mysteries I suppose.” I knew I was pissing him off, but that only made me want to keep going. “Why are you so mad?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re my girlfriend so I don’t particularly like the idea of some guy thinking about you in that way.”

“And what way is that?”

His chest grazed mine as he took a step forward. “The way I think about you.”

“It doesn’t matter how he thinks of me, Pietro.” The muscle in his jaw feathered but I continued before he had the chance to protest. “It doesn’t matter because I don’t think of him in that way. I don’t think of him in any way.” He didn’t seem completely satisfied with this, so I decided to give a little more of myself, lay myself slightly barer before him. “How could I? when you already occupy so much space in my brain. It’s hard to even consider other men when I’m already completely obsessed with you.”

My thumb brushed over his cheekbone, bringing him down to press my lips against his, punctuating my words, branding us both with them. We were sharing the same air as we stood there, bodies not completely flush yet warmth travelled across my flesh. “You drive me insane, Nadia.” He clenched his hands at his sides, taking a step back from me.

I asked him what he meant.

“Don’t you understand that what you just said is exactly how I feel about you? Do you know what it does to me when you tell me that you feel the same way?” He shook his head. “It’s maddening.” I swallowed heavily, watching him run a hand through his hair before turning back to face me. “And don’t think that I’m completely over the flirting thing, I’m still annoyed.”

“Oh my god, Pietro.” My hands fell to my hips. “Grow up.” The moment I’d spoken I could practically feel the band of tension begin to snap, his eyes narrowed slightly, and he moved toward me once again.

He scoffed. “Say that again.” My heart was racing, lips curving upward a little. A quiet laugh fell from me.

I repeated myself and the air between us was pure electricity.

“You know what, Nadia? I might feel better if you told me about your dream.” It all happened very quickly, I moved to shove him in the chest, a vexed expression on my face. However, before my palms made contact, he’d snatched my wrists up and pressed them against the wall above my head. My back was flush with the cold surface, the air momentarily knocked out of me. His maneuver was not particularly forceful, but the underlying context had my chest rising and falling a little faster. I glanced up at our hands, watching his fingers intertwine with mine. His lips ghosted over mine and I found myself unwittingly arching toward him, bringing a soft smirk to his lips. “Is it still funny?”

“A little.” I breathed out, still taunting even when my body felt as though it was burning up. The laugh that left him was dry, frustration evident in his tone.

When he kissed me, it felt like life or death. Like my air supply was his as well and we both needed it to survive. I pushed my body toward his and soon he got the message, moving closer, using his chest to press me flush to the wall once more. I gasped slightly against his mouth as our bodies melded together. It was bizarre, the way I felt like I was melting into him so easily, but my muscles still stiffened, my body was defensive at the touches even when they weren’t ones that I disliked. My heart was racing, thumping so hard against my chest I could feel it in my ears. The first real tug of my arms against his grip had Pietro loosening his hold and setting my hands free. One went to the back of his head, threading through his soft, silver locks, the other gripped his shoulder. I could feel one of his hands at my ribs, sliding down to my hip. It was like everything shut off for a second when his fingers slid into the slit of my dress, grazing over my thigh. I tensed so completely that Pietro pulled back, for a second the air felt too thick to swallow. He whispered an apology to me, attempting to move his hand from my leg but I caught it before he could, placing my own over his and bringing it back to my thigh. I clenched my jaw, forcing my eyes to open and let the light in once more. He was the first thing I saw. I pressed my forehead further against his, gazing into his eyes and reminding myself that I wasn’t in danger, he wouldn’t hurt me. My heart returned to the pace it had been earlier, one of keen anticipation rather than discomfort. The tension in my muscles eased and he was waiting patiently for me to make a move, an indescribable softness in his blue eyes and then it was Pietro, and I was still a little afraid, but I was okay.

“I meant it the other day when I said that I wanted you to touch me.” I dragged his hand higher up my leg, the silky, white fabric of my dress sliding upwards, revealing more of my flesh to him.

“Fucking hell.” He breathed, head dipping toward the crook of my neck, not quite touching it though. He lifted my leg to sit over his hip and I wrapped my arm around the back of his neck. When he lifted his head, his nose grazed my cheek before he planted a small kiss against my lips again. He pulled away to gaze into my eyes, leaning against me. I looked right back, seeing myself reflected in his bright, beautiful eyes. It was there; right there, that I realized it. I was completely and utterly fucked.

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