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biteofcherry · 4 months

Text

Drip

stucky x female reader

Bucky Barnes x female reader x Steve Rogers; Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

summary: Bucky and Steve graciously make your fantasy of watching them together come true. But it comes for a price. One you may have not be prepared for.

warnings: smut; consensual; D/s undertones; power imbalance; hints of voyeurism; blowjob; handjob; orgasm denial; a small dose of degradation

Masterlist

You could never keep a poker face and you were rather shitty at being stealthy, so it wasn't a surprise that the two supersoldiers noticed the glances you stole their way on occasions.

They probably recognized more than glances, since you couldn't help but feel hot all over and clenched whenever you saw the two of them kiss. Or show any brief touch of intimacy.

Their relationship wasn't a secret, but Steve and Bucky weren't big on public displays of affection.

Around the compound they acted professional and sweet, presenting a healthy dose of love for each other. Perfect, charming gentlemen.

It only spurred your imagination further, as you spent nights in your bed with your hand between your thighs, thinking of how passionate they were with each other when no one was looking.

When they cornered you in an empty corridor, after you did a quick inventory of the quinjet post-mission, you had no quick wit to bullshit your way out of the trouble.

However, the expected lecture on being inappropriate (and perhaps relocated to a different post for making them feel uncomfortable and objectified) didn't happen.

Instead, you were invited to join them in the shower.

You really should've said no. Show them that your fantasies had their limit and you weren't a perv eager to become a true voyeur.

But there was something in the way they spoke to you that was coercive.

Steve’s tone wasn’t exactly an order, but it was shaped like an invitation you couldn’t refuse, or else there would be consequences (even if no threat was laid).

Bucky somehow steered your body, so that you were already walking along with them while they revealed they’ve caught you staring at them on multiple occasions. They weren't a flirtatious types, but they were acutely aware when someone desired them. Especially when that someone was really bad at hiding that craving.

Embarrassment swallowed you whole, making you squirm as you padded between the two men. Then a rush of adrenaline and excitement won, clouding your better judgment as they asked for your final decision.

If it was to be your last day of work for the Avengers, you would at least be an unemployed pervert who got to see Captain America and Winter Soldier naked and touching.

A currency no salary could match.

Though your bravado dispersed as you stepped into the showers few minutes later.

You felt uncertain as you took small steps across the wood-imitating tiles. The spa-like design of the compound’s bathrooms not working its calming magic at the moment.

As you approached the two men, who were already naked and standing under the sprays, your own nudity and body consciousness made you curl in on yourself.

"Are you sure it's okay?" You asked, stopping a few steps away.

You weaved one of your arms across your breasts, the other nervously around your middle as you squeezed your thighs.

For a fleeting moment you hoped they’d change their mind and you get to run away to hide in shame. It would be mortifying, but less than actually exposing yourself and your reactions to them.

Funny how it was supposed about you watching them, but turned into you being put into a more vulnerable position.

Somehow it skipped your horny mind that you would be naked and alone with two handsome, very powerful and overwhelming men.

Their heated, dark gazes locked on you made your heart rate accelerate, enhancing the sense of being the main entertainment of this whole arrangement.

Suddenly, the charming, protective Captain and sweet, quiet Soldier were gone and instead you were facing the stifling flame of hunger of potential predators. It was more potent than what your needy imagination provided. Perhaps more than you were really able to handle.

Steve’s gaze slid over you from head to toe, so slow and intense it felt as if he touched you with his fingers.

Your nipples instantly pebbled.

"If we weren't fine with you dripping down your thighs as you watch us, we wouldn't ask you to join us in the shower."

Fuck.

If he kept talking like that, in that lower, deeper tone, you really would be dripping down your thighs for them in no time.

It was Bucky who moved toward you, taking slow, but sure steps. Gently, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled your arm away from your chest. When your breasts were displayed fully, you heard a synchronized purr of approval.

He guided you to stand between two sprays then pushed you back slightly, until your back hit the tiled wall.

Some drops of water bounced your way, but mostly it was the warm mist settling on your skin in the little safe nook Bucky put you in.

A front row to watch the two of them just mere inches away from you.

Water cascaded down their naked bodies. Your eyes couldn’t catch up with all the trickles, though you so desperately wanted to study them all. Lavish with your tongue each contour of muscle and crevice. Trace the veins that protruded down their arms and just above hip and curving down onto…

"You like what you see, starburst?" Bucky hummed, forcing your gaze to snap up to his.

The nickname was something new. They always addressed you by your name. But you had no trouble realizing what inspired this one - they had to notice the small tattoo on your hip.

Swirls of gray in Bucky’s blue irises seemed warmer than ever before. His mouth was curved in an amused smile, making your heart flutter silly as if you were a teenage girl offered a flash of interest from the boy you had a crush on.

Bucky lathered his hands with soap and he moved them across Steve’s chest, up to his neck then down his arms; stroking those sculpted muscles.

You followed that movement nearly whimpering in despair that it wasn’t you who got to touch.

"He's magnificent, isn't he?" Bucky’s hands traveled all over Steve’s body, while his gaze remained locked on you.

"Would you like to worship his perfect body?" He asked.

At your eager nod something glinted in his eyes. Bucky’s voice resounded with a dark command, even as his face remained softly serene:

"Then drop to your knees, doll. Worshipers are on their knees before their gods."

Before you fully comprehended the undertone of degradation in the latter sentence, your knees were already hitting the tiles.

As Bucky’s fingers ran down Steve’s stomach then wrapped around the base of his dick, your fingernails dug into the skin of your thighs as tingles of arousal pulled at your nipples and your clit.

"And that cock? Are you aching for that gorgeous, thick cock?" Bucky rasped, stroking Steve steadily.

Steve’s own hand was gripping the back of Bucky’s head, fingers tangled in wet, dark locks. Though his lips were parted on small, pleasant grunts, which he didn’t bother to hide, Steve’s eyes remained focused on you. Drinking in all the reactions showing on your beautiful face.

"Bet you'd love to run your tongue along that vein." Bucky moaned himself as he squeezed Steve tighter.

Your tongue seemed to dart out to lick your lips out of its own volition. Your hands moved, too. One up to cup your breast, the other diving between your thighs.

"Are you thinking about it, starburst?” Steve asked, nudging Bucky’s hand away and taking a step towards you. Water washed out all the remaining suds off his body, giving you an unobscured view of the glory that was his cock.

“Imagining how you'd cry as it stretched your little pussy?"

Your little pussy clenched in fear and arousal at the thought of being filled with it. Even your bolder toys couldn’t compare in size.

"And what about Bucky's cock, hm?” Steve’s hand splayed on Bucky’s hip when his partner came closer.

With his other hand he cupped Bucky’s balls, drawing a loud grunt of pleasure from him. Then he ran his fingertips along the underside of Bucky’s cock, before fisting it.

“Big and long.” Steve gave a few leisurely strokes. “Do you know how deep in your tight ass he could go?"

You weren’t thinking of it - of anyone in your ass - up until now.

“Oh Stevie,” Bucky chuckled against Steve’s shoulder, where he was peppering kisses and licks, “I think our little starburst has been thinking about my cock up your ass all this time and missed the opportunity to imagine how it could fill her dirty hole.”

Fingers still wrapped around Bucky’s girth, Steve angled his head to the side. His nose brushed against Bucky’s almost affectionately and then their lips were meeting in a sensual kiss.

Forced to decide between watching their kiss and Bucky’s dick twitching in Steve’s hand, you let out a pathetic whimper. Your own fingers rubbed tight circles on your aching clit. Tongue itched to lick up the red tip of Bucky’s cock.

“I don’t blame her,” Steve rasped when they parted, “I love having you in my ass, too. Almost as much as I love taking yours.”

Bucky’s soft laughter didn’t diminish the hotness of the scene. Quite the contrary, the intimacy of it that you were graciously allowed into was making you even more needy.

Maybe the sinful beauty of their bodies was only a veneer of what you were truly craving. Maybe it's their deep connection and devotion that you got off on, dreaming of experiencing it yourself. Of being loved so strongly.

“Bet she’s thinking about it now.” Their gazes returned to you. “Look at those small fingers trying to satisfy her.”

“Cute,” Steve snorted, but then his eyes narrowed. “Who told you that you could touch yourself, starburst?”

“I-” you stuttered, feeling a wave of shame burn your cheeks from the inside.

“Hands off.” He commanded and somehow you complied immediately. “You need them free to take care of us, little worshiper.”

Your eyes widened as you stared up at them. When this whole event began, you were convinced it would just be a twisted little fantasy combined - you watching them, them enjoying being watched.

A hush little encounter with minimum interaction.

Not only they broke down all the private space limits, but pushed it into entanglement you rarely even dared to fantasize about.

They moved even closer; their cocks inches from your face as they looked down at you like the gods you made them to be.

"Be of service, starburst." Bucky ran a single digit along your cheek.

"Come on. We know you get off on not only imagining the two of us together, but also being with us. This is your chance to earn it."

You gulped as his finger touched your bottom lip then slipped into your mouth. For a short second, but it was enough of an indication how far they wanted to push it.

“Show us how much you want it.” Steve rocked his hips forward, teasing the tip of his dick along your cheek. “How thankful you are to be here.”

Hesitation in your movement wasn’t due to discomfort of touching them, but because you didn’t have much experience in the matter. Sure, you gave some quick handjobs and sucked dick before, but it all seemed awkward and poor quality to what Steve and Bucky deserved.

Perhaps they sensed your nervousness, or maybe they really liked your touch, but the moment you wrapped your small hands around their cocks the praise fell from their lips almost instantly.

“Doing good, starburst.” Bucky stroked your head. “Just follow what you always imagined.”

At first you tried to keep the same rhythm on both shafts, but you weren’t that well coordinated. It didn’t matter though, as you quickly noticed each of them liked things a little different anyway.

Bucky moaned at the measured stroke with more squeeze around the leaking tip, while Steve encouraged you to twist your wrist.

As their sounds of pleasure grew muffled, you flicked up your gaze. The sight of them kissing and touching each other elicited another jolt of arousal; your own lips parting on a quiet moan.

The puff of your breath tickled the angry red head of Steve’s dick, which twitched in your hand in response. It was all the temptation you needed to open your mouth and taste him.

Your scientific knowledge wasn’t impressive, but you wondered if it was possible that the serum enhanced that part, because you swore the flavor of Steve on your tongue made you wetter.

Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked harder. You couldn’t get him much deeper, your gag reflex was too strong to try pushing it at the moment, but you were adamant on making it as satisfying for them as you could.

After a few beats you switched, swallowing Bucky's cock while you quickened the pace of your strokes on Steve’s dick. Every few moments you glanced up at them, feeding your own pleasure with the sight of them touching each other.

"Such a good pet." Steve’s praise spurred you on.

Bucky groaned out your real name when you squeezed his balls while suckling on his tip. One of his hands landed on the back of your head, pushing you further down his length. He relented when you choked, but you suspected if encounters like that were to happen in the future, he would at some point deep throat you.

“Do you want your reward, starburst?” Bucky pulled out, wrapping his own hand around his cock.

Steve guided your fingers to massage his balls as he too fisted his cock.

You didn’t expect arousal could spike even higher when you were already so drunk on it. But the idea of them cumming in front of you, for you, was like an electric current that sizzled your brain into mush.

“Yes, please,” you nodded eagerly, licking your lips.

“You can close your eyes, but keep your mouth open and your tongue out.” Steve instructed, his voice strained as he tried to withhold his climax a few more seconds.

“Fuck,” you heard Bucky curse as you closed your eyes and tilted your face up, obediently opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. “So fucking beautiful, little worshiper.”

Slick sound of quick strokes combined with the rainy hum of cascading water and the unrestricted moans of two men. Even your own heartbeat seemed to quiet so that you could enjoy the sexy sounds.

Then warm splashes hit your face. Landed on your tongue, but also across your cheeks and forehead, some dribbled down your chin.

You waited with your open mouth until they were fully spent, which took more time than expected, before swallowing everything that landed on your tongue.

“Good girl, starburst.” They swiped ribbons of cum off your face with their fingers, pushing them into your mouth for you to swallow all of it.

Then one of them easily lifted you up onto your feet and pulled you under a warm spray of water. Though your legs were shaking a bit, two bodies sandwiching you between them provided support.

“Let's get you cleaned." Bucky’s voice was a soft coo in your ear as he massaged shampoo onto your scalp.

Steve lathered your body with soap, stroking everywhere and yet not where you needed it the most. Though satisfied with making them cum, your body was still thrumming with need. One you were impatient to take care of.

"Please!” You arched against Bucky, pushing your chest towards Steve’s wandering hands. You parted your legs wider. “Please, please, I-"

"No." Bucky’s tone remained calm, but his words were firm. "You don't get to cum. Not yet."

“Little worshipers think of their gods’ needs and wishes first.” Despite the degrading and condescending meaning of his words, Bucky made them sound like a soft, caring compliment.

“And accept their fate, even if it’s to wait for their orgasm for eternity.”

"You've been such a good girl so far, starburst.” Steve squeezed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing your gaze to meet his through the falling drops. “I know you can still be obedient and wait for the special reward. Right?"

“Y-yes, Steve.” Your heart pounded at the prospect of getting more from them.

Even if at the moment it was more torment than pleasure.

" ’Atta girl." He smiled. "Now let’s rinse you. Then you can go dry up and dress nicely. We’ll take you out for dinner.”

#stucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #stucky x you #stucky x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x steve rogers #stucky imagine #stucky smut #drip #little worshiper universe #I think I'd bee adding more into this universe in the future so I wanted to name it something #my writing #bucky barnes x female reader x steve rogers #bucky barnes x you x steve rogers

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navybrat817 · 17 days

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Steve + 9. "Don't even think about getting out of the car."

Oh, Eva. 🫠

Direct Order

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve doesn't like that you ignored his direct order.

Word Count: Almost 900

Warnings: Arguing, slight angst, stubbornness, slight feels (it's me), Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Another overprotective prompt ficlet. Thanks, Eva! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The night air was cool and refreshing as you rolled the window down, but it went back up before you could appreciate the breeze against your skin. You shot Steve a glare who didn't acknowledge you as he drove. You didn't like uncomfortable silence, but you didn't attempt to fill the time with small talk. Not since he decided to rip you a new one in front of the team an hour ago.

You just wanted to go home.

“You have nothing to say?” Steve asked, his voice low. “Must be killing you to go this long without talking.”

You fought the urge to kick the dashboard since the car didn't do anything to you and smacking him could cause an accident. “And it must be killing you that I didn't fall in line today like a perfect little soldier,” you said with a sardonic smile. “Or would you prefer I act like a doll?”

“You ignored my direct order,” he growled as he gripped the steering wheel. For a moment you thought he’d bend or rip it away. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You sneered before facing forward. “Jesus Christ, give it a rest. You berated me enough on the quinjet and I don't need to hear it again.”

He took his eyes off the road long enough for you to see the anger brewing. “Damn right I berated you because you never listen to me.”

The tension thickened. You didn't typically argue with Steve. You went against him once and now he was saying you never listened to him? Where the hell did he get off?

“Don’t you dare lecture me about not listening to you when you’re the one who never listens to anyone,” you argued, feeling a hint of satisfaction when he clenched his jaw. “And I made the right call. I stand by that.”

The mission was a success because of your decision.

“You don't make the calls. That isn't your job,” he snapped, the tires squealing as he made a rough turn. “You could've been hurt or worse. Don't you get that?! You can be so stubborn sometimes.”

“But I wasn't hurt! And me being stubborn? Pot meet fucking kettle, Rogers!”

“Captain,” he said through his perfect teeth.

“Captain,” you scoffed, your blood boiling. “You are not my Captain right now. You're just some guy who wormed his way into driving me home after running his mouth.”

You shrieked when he slammed on the brakes, bracing yourself on the dash when he ran a hand through his blonde hair and bitterly chuckled. It was a foreign sound coming from him. One that made you shut your mouth. “Some guy? Now I’m just some guy?”

Concern flickered across your face. Yeah, you were mad, but you didn't have to push. “Steve. I mean, Captain, I-”

“I’m not just some guy and I’m not just your Captain,” he cut you off, stopping you when you reached for the door handle. “Don't even think about getting out of the car. We’re not done yet.”

“Why should I stay? So you can snap at me some more?” You mumbled. “Would you treat Bucky or Sam or anyone else like this?”

It wasn't fair to try and make him feel bad. He was your leader for a reason and he gave you an order. You didn't follow it. He had every right to be pissed off. By all means he had the right to bench you, too.

But why was he taking it personally?

All the anger fell from Steve’s face as he leaned across the seat more. “I’m sorry.”

Your gaze softened, too. “Why are you sorry?”

“For snapping the way I did,” he said with a shake of his head. “You just scared me today. I get scared every time you go into the field, but that was the first time you…”

“Didn’t listen,” you finished for him, your heart pounding when you realized just how close he was. If he leaned in any closer, his lips would be against yours.

“And you are right. I have a hard time listening to others myself,” he said, smiling when you snorted. “But I don't give you orders for you to act like a perfect soldier or doll. Just like I don't give Bucky or Sam or anyone else orders just to have things done my way. I do it to keep you as safe as possible. It would break my heart if something happened to you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes went wide. “Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” You asked, your stomach doing a funny flip.

He chuckled, the sound much warmer than before. “So, you do listen.”

“Most of the time,” you teased, staring into his eyes. You could see how much he cared. No wonder he took this mission to heart.

“Arguing aside, you did well,” he praised, which sent heat to your cheeks.

“Thank you, Captain. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I’ll forgive you for ignoring my orders if you let me walk you to your door.”

“And I'll forgive you for snapping at me in front of the team if you come inside and have a drink,” you countered.

You didn't expect him to move his mouth to your ear. “I’ll only come inside if you say ‘please’,” he whispered, sending a shiver down your spine. “And that's a direct order.”

Yes, sir. ❤️‍🔥 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x female!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #chris evans #chris evans x reader #nomad!steve rogers #captain america

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luxthestrange · 2 months

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OP Incorrect quotes#29 Unsupervised-

The Roger Pirates let you, shanks, and buggy run errands UNSUPERVISED and with generous pocket money for anything you guys can buy...so much so they give three a boat for you to go through the market canals-

Rayleigh*Looking at the Kids and handing buggy the shopping list*-Now I expect you three not to cause any trouble...Y/n I'm looking at you- Be back in an Hour-

Kid! Shanks, Kid!Buggy & Kid!Y/n: Aww!

Rayleigh*sighs and rubs his temples*...

Roger*Has a boisterous laugh patting Rayleigh's back*Let the guppies have their fun

In the City, You currently steering with Buggy sitting beside you

Kid!Y/n:♪ We're st-s-sterring in a ♪

Both: ♪ Boat ♪ ♪

Kid!Y/n: Destination, Doug's Candy ♪

Both: ♪ Bar ♪ ♪

Kid!Y/n: Pass the mic right over to ♪

Both: ♪ Shanks! ♪

Both*Turn back to point at Shanks...who wasn't in the boat*...

Kid!Y/n: We forgot Shanks-

Kid!Buggy:♪ But we can't turn back, 'cause we're going to farles ♪

Kid!Y/n*Smilling at him apologeticly and turning the boat around*W-We have to turn back, though. We can't leave him. It was a good rhyme, though!~

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starvine · 1 year

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☾ ⋆* kiss it better

pairing: neteyam sully x fem!omaticaya reader

genre: fluff, angst

synopsis: all you wanted to do was serve your people. however, when you get injured, your mission is cut short. neteyam insists upon patching you up and decides to explain his concerns for your well-being and future together.

warnings: battle stuff, guns, blood, battle injuries, medical jargon, stitches, minor swearing (?), allusions to mating/sex ig, aged-up neteyam

word count: 7.9k

notes: IT’S HERE! i’m very excited to have started writing again, and although i’m very casual about when i write, i hope to be somewhat consistent lol. enjoy this for now, i have more planned for the future! i hope you all enjoy, pls reblog/comment/etc if you feel so inclined <33

The air was tense today, thick with disciplined focus as you keep your ears alert for any incoming airships. Reeking of smoke and burning metal, a scent that is foreign and unpleasant to your nose, you remain aware of everything and anything. Gray clouds billowing and a pungent smell that cling to the back of your throat like a hand with a vice grip—nothing was natural.

Tilting your forehead forward, you hope your visor, decorated with teeth and interwoven pieces, will shield your eyes from the wind. You hold your bow tightly, the wood smooth against your fingers as you use your other hand to guide your ikran swiftly through the air.

“Calm, calm,” you soothe her, tapping your fingers along her strong neck.

You’re anxious today. Not because of the imminent arrival of the Sky People, their ships ready to fire metal bullets at you at any second; you’ve dealt with that many times before. No, the reason you’re nervous is because of Neteyam.

Today is Neteyam’s first day participating in the raid—well, his first raid on the ground with his father’s permission—rather than being a part of the aerial surveillance team. You tried to insist that you should accompany him, but, due to his wishes, you remained in the air beside his mother.

“Do you see anything yet?” Neytiri’s voice asks over the intercom.

Bringing your fingers to your throat to press the responding button, you reply, “Nothing yet.”

“I’m going to fly down to help gather some of the gear. You stay here,” she orders, raising her bow to signal that she and her ikran were descending.

“Let us know if you spot any bogeys. We’ve got some heavy-duty gear and need as much time as possible,” Jake informs you over the intercom.

“Roger that, sir,” you say, steering your ikran closer to where the enemy would most likely be approaching.

Ears twitching back and forth, you attempt to pick up the whir of an aircraft amongst the orders commanded, the creaks and minor explosions occurring from the Meg-Lev train your people have intercepted, and the wind blowing past you. You hope that maybe you could track a scent, sniffing the air a couple of times to no avail. It’s all smoke and metal. The skies were calm, except for your ikran’s screeching, however, they couldn’t be for long. There was no way those demons would allow your people to escape that easily.

“Hey,” Neteyam breathes over the intercom, a slight huff of your name. You could hear the smile on his face. “How’re things looking up there?”

“What happened to using my code name?” you question, peering over your ikran in an attempt to find him along the ground. “I’ll tell you if I see anything. I know how to do my job, you know.”

“Just double checking,”

You scoff, guiding your ikran to the right. “Maybe you should focus on gathering all of the gear instead,”

“Oh, really? Maybe you should-”

Suddenly, your ears flex forward, focused on the faint whirring of something mechanical and man-made; something that was not naturally occurring within your world.

“Airships spotted! Everyone, move!” you shout over the intercom. You yelp out into the open air, pumping your bow in tandem with the three shouts you release to alert your fellow brothers and sisters in battle.

Just as people begin clambering for their ikrans and direhorses, the two Scorpions start firing. The relentless pop of military guns fills your ears, causing your tail to swish frantically and your ears to perk forward.

Using a high pitch, you signal for your ikran to dive, swooping up and under the two fighter pilots.

“Do not engage! I repeat, do not engage! I want minimal casualties today,” Jake commands over the intercom, the background full of shouts and grunts.

“Jake, I’ve got to take out these two airships. They’re already taking down ikrans,” you spoke, peering up at the airships as you stealthily soar below.

Just then, Neteyam responds.

“No! Listen to my father, do not engage. I can lead the people to safety,”

“There won’t be any people to lead if I don’t take these airships down.”

Neteyam groans your name in warning, the sound of shouts heard from all around. “Would you listen for once?”

Jake barks your name, frustrated and frantic. “Get out of there! Get back to the High Camp!” he orders. You begin mapping out the plan of your attack. “That is a direct order!”

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you respond, ignoring all that comes after.

Your ikran shoots straight up into the air, coming close to the tail-end of the Scorpion gunship. You arch over the top of the gunship, upside down and looping over to the front side. The sun high in the sky and its beams creating a glare on the glass makes it difficult for you to spot the pilot. Upon finding his location, you draw the string of your bow taught, ready to fire.

“Incoming! Enemy on-”

You shriek upon release. The arrow flies straight through the glass, nailing your target right in the chest.

The gunship begins to tilt forward, preparing for its decline. As a hunter and warrior, it was your duty to pay respects to the creatures you killed in order to sustain the way of life. Kneeling over them, declaring your thanks, and wishing for their safe return to rest amongst the Great Mother was a sacred practice. However, as the gunship crashed and blew up in flames, hot and angry, you felt no thanks or remorse. They did not deserve to rest peacefully, and they didn’t even deserve to die on the Great Mother’s sacred soil. Their spirits deserved to walk alone, isolated and cold from the warm glow of the afterlife.

“You skxawng! What the hell are you doing?” Neteyam screams.

Looking around, you see the green back of his ikran, its rider perched on top with no visible concerns except for the fury etched on his face.

“I got this! It’s just one more,” you insist, positioning an arrow on your bow, eyeing the last gunship.

“May the Great Mother help you when I knock-” and with that, he’s easily ignored.

The wind whips past you, high and soft, almost like a whisper from Eywa that she too felt the tensions of battle. You would do anything to soothe her pain. She could not endure the suffering of this war much longer.

Tightening your grip on your ikran, her blues providing a stark contrast to the grayness of the military equipment, you attack from the rear yet again. Guns firing, you duck, placing yourself as flat as you can get against her back. However, once you approach the opening of the ship, where all of the massive guns were placed, you sit up, firing quickly.

The scream and weak grunt you heard confirms that it was a successful hit. Loading your bow with another arrow, you soar underneath the aircraft, looping around until you have the high ground. Securing your aim, your fingers release the string until the arrow flies straight into one of the Scorpion's propellers. A small explosion soon turned into a large one, the ship dipping to its left and falling from its dominant space in the sky to the dirt.

However, so were you.

You must’ve underestimated how close you were to the ship, your eagerness to protect your people and the Great Mother clouded your judgment.

The sound and burst of light, as well as the force, must’ve spooked your companion as she, too, seemed to have lost her place in the sky. She tumbles towards the ground, shrieks and roars released into the open air. Jaw clenched, you tried to convince her to gain control to no avail.

“Come on!” you shout, knuckles turning a pale blue with the tight grip you had.

As you neared the ground, panic began to set in. Your ears lay flat against your head in an attempt to not become overwhelmed by the wind, you tried to think quickly.

You could stay with your ikran, but you would both get injured; you could also disconnect from her and leap from the group, in hopes of only injuring yourself.

Deciding on the latter, you had one plea for the Great Mother:

“Please don’t let Neteyam kill me.”

Disconnecting your kuru, you leap the rest of the way to the ground, the shock of the force of your fall causing you to fall instead of landing perfectly on your feet. The ship crashes a couple of yards in front of you, the force of the blast propelling you forward.

Rolling and skidding along the dirt, pieces of gravel and discarded glass and metal tear at your skin. Red begins to bubble up along the surface, the violent opposite of your blue skin.

Tumbling down a hill, you lose your grip on your bow, the wood being left behind in your trail. The burning sensation of your flesh being scraped away keeps you alert, blindly clutching at anything to break your fall.

Eventually, you slow to a stop, landing on your stomach with a mouthful of dirt. Spitting and coughing up the soil, you take a minute to catch your breath. With a slight raise of your head, you look at the ship as the flames crackle and cause a film of sweat to break out on your skin. That hunk of metal was truly ugly against the backdrop of the forest.

You begin to slowly sit up, a sharp pain coming from your side. A cut, not deep enough to need stitches, slowly oozes blood down your left rib, crimson staining the skin. It looks swollen, screaming to be disinfected immediately. Reaching behind you to check for any more severe wounds, you arch away from your nimble fingers just upon a light graze. The heat from the explosion must’ve irritated the skin, causing soreness and slight bubbling in some places.

Minor scrapes along your knees and elbows from what you could see and feel, makes you thank Eywa for her protection and the benign wounds. Stumbling onto your feet, you catch sight of something unnatural.

A small piece of metal protrudes from the side of your thigh, embedded into the flesh. Staring at the shrapnel, you’re reminded that your world doesn’t just belong to you anymore. Even if the Sky People were to disappear and return back to their planet, the scientists would remain here. Their clunky gear and massive structures would continue to reside amongst the nature of Pandora.

Something about that notion makes your heart sink.

You lightly touch the silvery metal, trying to gauge how deep the foreign object must be. It felt stiff and unwilling to relent to your touch, confirming that it was not something you could brush off. Taking a step forward, a broad, aching pain festers throughout your leg. It hurt less if you put less pressure on the limb, however, that would be hard to do on your journey back to the High Camp.

Picking up your bow from the ground, arrows broken and scattered around, you slowly mount your ikran, muttering expletives to yourself at the pain that dwelled throughout your entire body.

Neteyam was surely going to kill you.

Upon your arrival, after an arduous flight back home, you slowly slid off your companion onto the uneven rock. Blood oozed out from around the metal, the object having dug deeper into the surface the more you moved. With one hand clutching your rib and another trying to steady the object, you hoped to stumble into a healing area before you were noticed by a Sully.

Turns out, you’re not as stealthy as you thought.

“She’s back! She’s back!” a high-pitched cheer sounded, a small girl bouncing towards you. Tuk’s big grin slowly faded into a look of concern and worry as she sized up your injuries. “Mom! Kiri! She’s hurt!”

The younger girl prances over to you, lifting your arms and examining your body from front to back. You feel the small girl brush against your tail, which was agitatedly flicking back and forth.

With a sigh of your name, you see Tuk’s mother and elder sister approach you, war paint still decorating Neytiri’s face in vibrant greens and yellows. She gasps upon spotting the dirt, blood, and bruising that has blossomed across your skin, tucking a stray hair behind your ear as her eyes fill with worry.

“We must get her to grandmother,” Kiri announces to her mother, clutching your upper arm as softly as she could without hurting you.

“There’s no need. I can do it myself,” you try to assure her, taking a fumbling limp forward.

“There is a piece of metal sticking out of your leg.”

You glance down, almost as if you hadn’t noticed it at all before. It was a futile attempt, especially as you used your fingers to brace the object, preventing it from moving too much. “There is?”

“Damn, bro!” Lo’ak exclaims, waltzing up beside you and trying his best to not laugh at your given failure. “Looks like someone got their ass handed to them by some Sky People,”

Hissing at him, you weakly push at his chest to show him that you weren’t interested in his jokes right now.

“Lo’ak!” his mother scolds, hitting him upside the head.

“What?! What I’d do?!”

Then, the two people you desperately wanted to avoid came into view: Neteyam and his father. Jake had a stern, militant look on his face—a facade that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. Neteyam’s face was set into a deep frown, a look that was a delicate cross between his mother’s and father’s disappointed faces.

“Well, would you look at the time? Looks like I better start tending to-” you attempt to walk away, only to be kept in place by Neytiri’s firm hand on your shoulder. It’s not like you’d be able to escape them as quickly or swiftly as you would typically be able to. You–apparently–had a piece of metal sticking out of your leg.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Jake scolds still dressed head to toe in his fusion of Omaticaya and Sky military gear. “Disobeying direct orders? That isn’t something I expected from you.”

Casting your eyes downwards, you hope your flat ears and limp tail would get you out of this scolding quicker than it would’ve if he was scolding Neteyam or Lo’ak. Typically, avoiding his gaze would show that you felt regret—which, in this case, you didn’t really—and he’d let you move on. However, it’s hard to keep your eyes fixed on the ground when someone gets into your line of view.

Neteyam crouches down, face coming into view as if he’s trying to catch your fake performance. Instead, he places two hands, worn and calloused from all of the years of fighting and defending his people, onto your cheeks. He tilts your face upwards so he can view you from his natural height, allowing him to view each scrape and bruise in proper lighting. His lips twitch into a grimace, thumbs grazing over a small cut that must be on your cheek because, although there’s a faint sting, there’s no leaking blood.

Now, everyone knew about you and Neteyam. It’s not like it was kept a secret. Wherever you went, he followed; whatever he was doing, you were right there beside him. In the years to come, you would become his mate and that was an unspoken decision between you and him. Well, there was also an unspoken rule between Neteyam and the rest of the boys his age to not even glance at you, or else he’d have their tails. However, no matter how much people smiled softly whenever you’d exchange fond glances or spare looks when you two ran off alone, it wasn’t like you publicly displayed much physical affection. Nonetheless in front of his parents.

He unloops your visor from behind your ears, handing it to his brother without his gaze leaving your face. As soon as his hands leave you, they return just as quickly. His fingers smooth over your face, confirming that you’re breathing and here in front of him—something he’s very grateful for. Your stupidity—not so much.

“You’re such a skxawng,” he chides, tilting your face towards his.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. It’s not like I’m the one who took down—not one—but two whole- ow!” you yelp, stumbling forward towards the young man.

Tuk looks at you guiltily, one finger outstretched as if she was prodding at something.

Kiri steps forward, pushing Tuktirey out of the way in order to re-examine your back.

“We should take her to grandmother,” she insists, “now.”

You roll your eyes, trying to continue with your act of not being nearly as injured as you appear, but the longer you stand, the more it becomes not true. As the adrenaline wears off, the soreness and incessant throbbing grow throughout your muscles and bones. Your rib and leg are still oozing blood, warm and tacky against your skin. Neteyam loops an arm around you, careful to avoid the blisters and welts that decorate various places on your back.

His free hand reaches for the hand that hangs limply over his shoulder, intertwining your fingers and giving them a light squeeze. “It’ll all be okay,”

“Yeah, I know. Just ‘cause I’m walking a bit funny doesn’t mean I’m dying,”

You could say that then, but you sure as hell can’t say that now.

If there was one thing about Mo’at, it was that she couldn’t care less if her remedies stung like a bitch as long as they cured you thoroughly. So now, as she smears a paste along your back—the sensation as bitter and frigid as the Northernmost part of any mountain—that bites at your skin, you kind of wish you were dead. Or at least knocked out.

This isn’t even the worst of it.

Once the stinging fades more into a relaxing cool, Mo’at instructs you to lean backward so she can assess your torso. The older woman crouches next to you, hands hovering over the wound as if Eywa was sending her a direct message on the best way to heal you. Neteyam sits on the other side of you, clutching your hand with a grip that seems more like it’s to reassure him than you, his other hand brushing your hair away from your face.

Neytiri stays close to her mother, observing or advising what she believes to be the next course of action—just as a tsakarem should do. Kiri stays by your feet, grinding and mashing up various plants and syrups that could be used to aid with disinfecting your wounds. Lo’ak and his father stay near the door, ready to leave if someone else should need assistance with anything to do with the war effort. However, as everyone stays well within their place, performing their necessary task, Tuk couldn’t seem to sit still.

“Is she going to need stitches?” Tuk asks, peering over her eldest brother.

Neteyam removes his hand from your hair, slightly readjusting the younger’s weight so she doesn’t put too much pressure on him, in turn, putting pressure on you.

The Tsahìk doesn’t look up from your wound, eyes brightening as if Eywa had finally delivered her guidance to the woman. “No, she will just need to rest. I would advise very minimal movement for at least seven days,” the woman says, being handed a bowl of yellowish sap.

“Seven days? But I need to be out there, it’s my duty to fight,” you plead, growing restless and inching upwards.

Neteyam pushes you back down, delicate but firm fingers pressing against your sternum. “Down,” he murmurs.

“It is not my fault you did not listen to orders,” the older woman retorts, using a brush-like leaf to observe the consistency of the paste before lowering it toward your injury.

“Yeah, well it’s not my fault that I just happened to save- oh, Great Mother! Holy sh-” you yelp upon Mo’at contact.

Neteyam presses a hand over your mouth, sending you a stern glare. “Not in front of the Tsahìk,” he hushes, palm warm against your lips.

You groan against his hand, face twisting and back arching in pain. Unlike the gel thinly spread across your back, there was no relief from this paste. Mo’at continued to slather it all across your skin, insisting that the more you move, the more it will hurt. You squeeze Neteyam’s hand, feeling the bones shift with how strong your grip is. If you’re hurting him, you can’t tell. The look of pain on his face seems to be linked to his feelings about your injuries, your pain. Always the doting lover.

Once Mo’at wraps the injury, using both Na’vi and human medical wraps, she places a palm over the injury, thanking the Great Mother. Then, she looks at your leg.

Your leg was held down by Kiri throughout the excursion, as she didn’t want the shrapnel to lodge itself deeper into the skin and muscle. At the base of your leg, a piece of twine is firmly wrapped around the skin to lightly restrict blood flow. The skin was not pinched, nor did you lose feeling in your leg as you would’ve if the twine was used as a makeshift tourniquet, however, your thigh still resisted against the band.

You haven’t cried yet, however, just with her eyes boring into your leg you feel as if you’re about to sob.

“Please don’t take it out. I don’t- I don’t want to have to do this anymore,” you begin to blubber, looking at Neteyam as you try to sit up.

“Shh, shh,” he placates, stroking your cheek. “It’s okay. I’m here, I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I’ve been hurting this whole time,” you groan, “what the hell have you been-”

Then, the last two people you want to see walk into the room: Norm and Max.

“I grabbed them as soon as I heard,” says Spider, following close behind.

“No. No, no, no. Get the hell away from me,” you say, instantly shooting up and trying your best to scoot away, even as Kiri still holds down your leg.

Neteyam says your name so sweetly, so full of fondness that a chill is sent up your spine—a chill that isn’t caused by the cooling medicine or a shock of pain. “He’s here to help.”

“I don’t want him here,” you spit, speaking Na’vi to the boy sitting beside you.

“We have no choice,” he reasons, his voice dropping an octave. “They will be much quicker with their equipment than with ours. I promise that my grandmother will heal and treat you, but we need their help to make sure that there’s no extra damage that is beyond what the eye can see.”

You shake your head, refusing to listen to him and averting your gaze.

His lithe fingers reach for your chin, turning you back towards him. There he goes again; always making you feel like the blushing fool, especially in front of his family.

“I will not let them hurt you.”

What a fucking liar.

Taking a team of three women plus Norm to hold your leg down, Max begins to lower his tweezers toward the piece of metal. With the first tug, you begin screaming. The pressure and the resistance between Max’s tweezers and the artificial shard against your tender skin and muscle caused your free leg to kick, hands tightening at your sides and clinging onto Neteyam. The fact that your whole body was tense, each muscle spasming, probably didn’t help what was already a difficult procedure.

“Damn, she’s strong,” Norm comments, adding more pressure in an attempt to hold your leg down. “Spider, help us out.”

You continue to sob, reaching for Neteyam to claw at his shoulder. If you’re hurting him or breaking skin, he doesn’t tell you. Instead, he cradles you as you cry against his leg. Ripping your hand from his, you squeeze his leg, nose pressed against his thigh to hide your face. There’s no guarantee that half of the clan hasn’t heard you by now, nor that a few people have poked their heads in to see who the hell was screaming so damn loud. You were well known. There’s no way anybody wouldn’t recognize that it was you who was being surgically tortured. However, if you could save some dignity by hiding yourself against Neteyam, you would do just that.

“I’m never letting them near my body again,” you weep, gripping tight to the blue skin beneath you.

Neteyam rakes his fingers through your hair, hands petting any inch of skin that has brought you comfort over the years. He knows you like the back of his hands. Playing with your hair puts you to sleep, rubbing his thumb across your cheek makes you keen, following the slope of your nose makes you smile, and touching your ear makes you quiet. Using this knowledge, Neteyam’s hands roam to any expanse of skin that he can reach. He must look mad, with busy fingers and frantic eyes, but he can’t help himself. His chest hurts when he sees you like this, and if he needs to kill someone to make you feel better, he’d gladly do that.

“It’s almost out. We’re almost done,” he assures you in a soft tone, getting close to your ear.

Your ears, which have been laying flat and folding over periodically finally perk up and away from your skull—a sense of relief. It’s quick-lived before they fall back against your hair, but he sees it as a small win.

“Can you dress it for me?” you plea, voice breaking painfully.

Who is he to deny you?

“All done!” Max cheers, placing the flat piece of shrapnel into an emesis basin.

The clang of the metal against metal causes you to abruptly sit up. Neteyam’s hand is on your shoulder, but for the first time, it’s not to push you back down. He lets you take your time viewing the sizable gash in your leg, an injury that without a doubt needs extra aid. You whimper at the sight, not necessarily at the pain, but because you knew what this means: you would be under strict supervision at the battle scene. You couldn’t be trusted to be alone, especially as you were a great friend of the Sully’s and Neteyam’s prospective mate.

Falling back into Neteyam, the cries you let out are softer but still cause your body to shake. Neteyam rubs his cheek against yours when you hide your face in his neck, tears causing the blue skin to become slick and tacky. He readjusts your top which has moved around during all of your painful squirming, protecting your modesty. The beads land softly against your shoulder, arms holding you snuggly against him. He tucks your hair behind your ear, giving him a view of the ear that is decorated with various pieces of Omaticaya jewelry. An orange bead, delicately dangling from your lobe, was a gift from him.

“It makes me feel wiser during battle,” you told him once before sending an arrow straight through the eye of a fish that swam around in the pond.

He touches it lightly, reminding you that everything is alright.

“No! She’s going to need stitches!” Tuk whimpers, a frown deeply set on her face. Even through your crying, Neteyam catches the faintest hint of a smile.

Mo’at begins to drip water over the wound, clearing away any blood that may have leaked down your leg despite the twine restricting your blood flow.

It’s silent besides Max, Norm, and Jake’s mumbling outside of the tent as Mo’at preps a needle and thread. Kiri, Neytiri, and Spider have since released your leg, observing you and the Tsahìk. Just as Mo’at blesses the needle and thread, Neteyam speaks up.

“I’ll do it.”

Mo’at looks at her grandson, her gaze strong but understanding. The white bone needle stays pinched between her two fingers, amber eyes unwavering.

“Neteyam, let your grandmother-“

“I said I’ll do it.” he hushes, lip curling in order to hide a scowl.

His mother looks at her own, a non-verbal communication occurring between their stares. Eventually, Neytiri acquiesces, standing up and taking a step away from you.

Mo’at hands him the needle, placing a worn but beautiful hand on your leg.

“Return here tomorrow so I can check on the wound,” she orders. You nod, eyes still teary before the older woman stands with her daughter, ready to move on to the other warriors who need their assistance.

Once his mother and grandmother leave, Neteyam grows restless.

“Everyone out, please.”

Kiri scoffs at him, still seated by your feet. “You can‘t be serious,”

“Out! Get out!” he hisses, fangs bared at his sister and the human boy beside her. “You have done nothing!”

“I wouldn’t call holding down her leg for nothing. I’ll have bruises for the next week,” Spider dismisses, standing up with Lo’ak, who is already headed towards the exit.

“Out!” he shouts one final time, his siblings leaving as his tail flicks back and forth with irritation.

It isn’t until they’re gone, that Neteyam leaves your right side, scrambling and pouncing over you in order to come in contact with your left leg.

The tent is silent as he begins his work. The process doesn’t hurt much, a gentle prick or pinch here and there; you’re not sure whether it’s because your nerves are shot and can’t detect pain anymore or because Neteyam is good at his work. It could be both. Before you know it, the wound is closed and a row of sutures stares back at you in a familiar Na’vi sewing pattern. The skin is even, nothing too uncomfortable, and although there’s bruising, it appears to be that everything will be okay.

You reach out to touch the stitches with a shaky hand, only to be slapped away. “Uh uh, don’t touch,” he tuts, eyes focused and mouth slightly ajar in concentration.

He grabs under your knee, bending it at the joint in order to prop it up so he can place a bandage over the sutures.

“To protect them,” he informs you, wrapping the gauze around your thigh.

He’s very quiet throughout, a reaction you were not expecting. Neteyam has always been logical, methodical; he never steps out of line or does something rash unless it’s for the means of protecting those he loves. Always quick to action, he’s usually the first to help and the first to reprimand someone (usually Lo’ak) for their stupidity. That would be the typical reaction. However, now he looked almost forlorn.

Once he’s done, he fully stands for the first time since you entered the tent. He begins to rummage through his grandmother’s remedies that sit in wooden jars and crystal vials, concoctions she’s mastered after years and years of being the Tsahìk. After selecting a small wooden bowl filled with clear oil, he grabs another bowl of water and a rag and sits down in front of you. Dabbing the rag in the bowl of water, he lifts the dripping cloth toward your face.

“What are you doing?”

He looks at you, eyes narrowing briefly before they return to their normal, large position.

“Your face is filthy.”

He gently holds your chin, tilting it up towards him so he can begin wiping your face. His hold is steady but his eyes look nerved, almost as if he has too much on his mind to bear. His breathing matches yours, and he dodges your gaze although his entire being crowds your line of sight. There’s no way for him to avoid you, really.

“What’s wrong?” you ask as he dips the rag and wrings out all of the water, approaching your face yet again.

“Nothing is wrong,” he replies curtly, his ears twitching quickly before returning to their previous state—a telltale sign that he’s lying.

“Oh, so you’re just going to pretend like I know nothing about you now?” you try to joke, smile falling when you notice how he doesn’t reciprocate your humor. “Talk to me,” you urge, grabbing his wrist so he can’t try to distract you or himself by caring for your wounds.

He sighs, looking away before he slowly looks back at you. Holding your gaze, eyes squinting and lips pursing slightly. Neteyam looks at you like you’re supposed to understand him–and you do–but it’s as if he’s expecting you to know what’s bothering him. However, the problem is that you don’t. Once he comes to that realization, he sighs, still looking into your eyes.

“I’m upset with you.”

And there it is. Your tail swishes uneasily, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Neteyam, but he can’t bring himself to quell his emotions for your sake. He almost lost you.

“Why are you upset with me?”

He shrugs, almost as if he’s embarrassed or too shy to explain his feelings. Being the eldest son and the next heir, Neteyam often felt as if he had to hide his own inhibitions or concerns in order to be a good son, a good brother, a good leader. When it was just the two of you, you would often have to do a little extra prying in order to get him to reveal what was truly occupying that pretty little head of his. Even once he admitted it, it was even harder to get him to elaborate.

“Just drop it. You should be healing,” he dismisses, trying to distract himself by wiping your face again.

Pushing his wrist away with your fingers, you take the cloth and throw it into the bowl of water. Holding his hands on your lap, his tail swishing timidly behind him, you make him look at you by following his gaze. “I can talk and heal. The two aren’t mutually exclusive,”

“I wish they were,” he mutters, a braid swinging in front of his face.

“Hey,” you tuck the strand behind his ear. He leans towards your touch, almost as if he craves it, no matter how much he wishes he didn’t. “This isn’t how this works. You need to talk to me.”

“You’ve already been in enough pain today. I don’t want to cause anymore,”

“Quit the bullshit. I’m better now. I’ll feel worse if you don’t tell me.”

“That’s not the way it works.”

“Um, yes, it is.”

“It’s not.”

“How would you know? I can already feel my leg hurting ten times more now that you won’t communicate with me.”

“You’re not in any more pain because of me,” he scoffs, trying to escape your grasp.

“Ow, my leg! My leg!” you feign a whimper. He cracks a small smile, your cheeks spreading as smoothly as the war paint that still dons his face.

Neteyam looks so beautiful when he smiles. It’s a special smile, reserved only for you; it drips of sticky honey, so sugary that sometimes you feel as if you could fall ill from its adoration. He’s soft as he looks at you, coy and all things delightful. The hands that once tried to flee your own, now reach for your wrists, petting the skin in a pattern that speaks a million languages at once. And yet, somehow, not one of those languages can truly resemble how much he loves you. He loves you a lot.

“Please,” you whisper, “tell me what’s wrong?”

He sighs, assenting to your pleas. With one final sweep over your face, he finally indulges you.

“I’m not happy that you took down those ships.”

“Well, duh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. “I know that, but I want to know why.”

“You weren’t careful.”

This causes a richer scoff to form at the back of your throat, a sound that makes his ears press against his braids. “I thought we agreed to take down the enemy at any and all costs?”

“I know, and we did—we did make that agreement. I just,” he groans, trying to find the right words. Neteyam never had the right words when it came to expressing himself. “I was scared.”

“Okay,” you reply softly, shuffling closer to him. “Why were you scared?”

“Why wouldn’t I be scared?” he answers, tone mimicking the same quiet tone you used. “You’re mine—my girl, and- and they almost took what’s mine away from me.”

“God, I just got so scared that something bad would happen to you. And when I saw you hurt, how badly you were in pain, and I couldn’t do anything about it I just…” his eyes are frantic, searching all across the hut for something—anything—to provide him an answer. His hands start to tremor in your hold. “I felt helpless and so stupid. I should’ve been tougher on you, or—I don’t know—had Lo’ak or even Kiri stay with you so you didn’t have to be alone. And it’s not that I don’t think you’re incapable or anything—” he excuses, causing you to smile lightly, “—but I don’t trust them. I don‘t trust them with you.”

Smile turning watery, you reach for his shoulder, soon deciding to hold his face instead. He leans into your palm yet again, seeking the warmth that can only emanate from your hands alone. It’s the only warmth that can rid him of any chill.

Neteyam kisses your palm, soon rolling your hand over in his, placing his lips on each knuckle as if it provides him comfort. And it does. It provides him more comfort than he could care to admit. Placing your head in the crook where his neck and shoulder meet, you place a kiss on his collarbone, lowering your lips to place another on his pec, right above his heart. The young man draws in a deep breath, holding you close to him, savoring each second, each touch. Skin against skin; heart against heart.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” you apologize, your soft lips grazing his blue skin. He loves the feeling. “I just wanted to protect our people.”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs against your forehead, a light kiss placed there. “I’m sorry for yelling.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t even yell,” you forgive, cheeks pillowing against his chest. When you lift yourself away from him, he tilts his head in confusion at your smirk. “Also, we both know Kiri would be awful on the battlefield.”

He chuckles, brushing his nose against yours. “True. She can’t even shoot an arrow in a straight line.”

“Exactly! I don’t know what you were thinking when you said that. Lo’ak? Sure, whatever. But Kiri?”

“I know, I know,” he agrees, voice growing softer as if his quietness will preserve this moment between you.

His eyes become velvet—smooth and warm—the longer he looks at you and it instantly makes you melt. His lips look saccharine, a buttery spread of a light smile decorating his face which is just the absolute cherry on top. If Eywa hadn’t taken you during battle, she sure as hell was going to take you now with how crazy Neteyam makes your heartbeat.

He tucks your hair behind your ear, his smile growing more and more with each expanse of skin he navigates. Dancing his fingertips over your jaw and across your cheekbones, he eventually cups your cheek and you just watch. If you breathe too hard, if you shift your weight, this moment could crumble. He’s looked at you like this many times before but it’s usually in the dark, under the bioluminescent blue and purple lights of the forest, where all you can see are the shadows of his face and the warmth of his tongue and the breeze of his breath. Now, you can see everything in pure, golden hues. The way his mouth relaxes, the way his eyes absorb all they can with each quick glance, the way the corner of his mouth tugs upwards unconsciously. You love it.

“May I kiss you?” he asks quietly, thumb swiping along a stripe on your cheek.

“Why do you ask now? You’ve done it many times before,” you wonder, eyes transfixed on the way his own mouth moves with each word he’s about to form.

He chuckles, a sweet, melodic sound, “Just wanted to make sure you’re still down even when the sun is out.”

This earns a loud laugh from you, a laugh that makes Neteyam’s heart squeeze and his lower stomach burn. He loves you. One day, he’ll say it.

Once your giggles have fizzled into a content sigh, you bite your lip lightly before you release it and it returns to its normal place. Neteyam follows the movement.

“I’m always down if it’s you.”

“Yeah?” he smiles, breathy and lips plush.

“Yeah.”

With that, he seals the deal. His kiss is soft, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dip to your mouth right before the initial contact. It makes you feel hot all over. He’s gentle—he always is at first—and he’s so, so kind. He pulls away briefly, returning not long after as if he needs to be connected to you or else he would suffer. In a way, he would.

Neteyam is sweet. He still tastes like the fruit you shared before the raid and also a little bit like blood—whether it’s from him or you, you don’t care; you’ll devour it desperately just like you want him to devour you. He traces that stripe on your cheek again, his new best friend, and follows it down the nape of your neck. His other hand trails up from the small of your back to the divot in between your shoulder blades. He uses his hand to pull you closer, seeking any contact from you that he can get.

Your hands are a barrier, shielding your chest from his, and in a way, it upsets you but also pleases you. Nobody knows what would happen if you could feel his chest pressed against yours at this moment—not even you know. Your hands glide across his chest, lighting scraping and molding against the fine muscle that hides under his smooth skin. When a lithe finger accidentally catches against a nipple, his mouth drops open pliantly, his tongue searching for yours.

“‘S scared they took my girl away from me,” he murmurs against your lips, his own following after yours after each word.

“Never,” you promise, kissing him firmly, one hand gripping his shoulder to ground yourself. All of this kissing was beginning to make you feel as if you could float away. “I’m yours. They could never take me or have me. You know that,”

“Mhm,” he hums, voice lilting towards the end as he presses his mouth to yours. It makes your back arch forward, seeking more of his skin, his touch.

His hands are growing desperate now. Neteyam knows he has to be gentle, avoiding the damaged skin on your back and remaining weary of the injuries on your rib and leg, but he so badly just wants to pull you close to him and never let go. He wants to hold you, to feel you, to be with you in every single way he can imagine so passionately. But he can’t. He will have to wait for another time.

You, on the other hand, may roam freely. Your hands travel down his chest, exploring the taught skin of his stomach. It seems he subconsciously flexes underneath your touch, something that is rather enticing. Reaching the plusher skin of his lower stomach, although there still isn’t much give, you trace the muscle gingerly, bordering right above the hem of his loincloth. The delicate touch of your fingers causes him to lightly moan into your mouth, a sound you gladly drink down just to feel its warmth in your stomach.

Neteyam pulls away suddenly, a loss you’re greatly upset about until he relocates his lips under your ear, traveling down your neck. He hums against the skin, tongue swiping against it as if he’s trying to taste as much of you as he can, as much as he’s allowed.

“You can’t touch me like that,” he says, using a hand to bring both of yours back toward his chest. You cradle his head instead, tracing a finger along his ear. It twitches.

“Why not?” you question, voice airy. Neteyam nearly preens at the sound, tail wild. “You seem to like it.”

“I do like it,” he insists, “I love it, even.”

“Then why can’t I touch you there?”

He places a wet, fervent kiss against the crook of your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat, a moan threatening to escape past your lips.

“Because,” another kiss, “You are not promised to me yet.”

“I just told you that I’m yours,” you reminded him.

“Yes,” he nods, trailing his kisses back toward your jaw. “However, you’re still not mine.”

Oh.

“I could be yours. All you have to do is ask,” you say as if it’s not something he already knows. You hold his head in place, halting his journey upwards so you can whisper in his ear: “Ask me, Neteyam.”

His tail swishes excitedly, something that makes you smile. Great Mother, you could eat him up.

“No,” he responds, pulling away and facing you head-on. He has a lovesick smile on his face, a grin that nobody could wipe off as long as you’re around. “I want to do it right.”

“Yeah?” you counter. “How would you do it?”

“Well,” he hums, kissing your lips. “First, I’d get all of your favorite foods. All of those fruits you like, season everything all nice,” he begins to slowly kiss your cheeks, “and get it all ready just for you to eat.”

“What else?”

“Then,” his kisses travel towards your ear, “Once you’re full and comfortable, we’ll go for a walk.” He bites your ear lobe and you press yourself against him. “We’ll go to our favorite spots: we’ll look at those flowers you like, go to the river, maybe swim a little. I like the way your hair looks while wet, you look so pretty,” he sighs. “You listening?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Go on.”

“Then I’d bring you to our sacred tree, just so Eywa can see us and I can see you under her light. I want to see you when I ask you. I want to see you if you smile or cry or decide that I’m not the one, I don’t care, I just want to see you,” he smiles, no longer kissing you but nudging your nose with his.

“And if you say yes—Great Mother, I hope you say yes—I promise, I’ll treat you so well. I’ll hold you the way you ask to be held, kiss you in all of the places I already know you love to be kissed, and learn all of the new places I can’t reach yet too. I want to feel you, and see the way you react. I want you to feel me, too. I want you to see me, and I want to see you,” he whispers, voicing each wish.

You nod, slowly and then desperately. “I want to see you, too,” you promise. He smiles that big, toothy smile. “Tell me when you’ll ask me? I can’t wait for much longer. I need you.”

His eyelids grow heavy, skin heating underneath your palm. “I need you, too,” he gasps, leaning forward to kiss you again. “It’ll be soon, just want you to heal for now.”

“Yeah?” you smile. “Soon?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Soon.”

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x female reader #avatar #avatar: twow #avatar: the way of water #neteyam sully fluff #neteyam sully angst #neteyam sully x reader #atwow #atwow headcanons #atwow imagines #neteyam suli x reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan x reader

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whereireid · 1 year

Text

𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 - 2/2

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

pairing: dark!ex-boss!steve rogers x fem!reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.6k warnings: dubious consent ! - sexually naive reader, rough p in v, oral sex [m + f receiving] - height difference [6'6 steve, 5'3 reader] -, misogyny, sexism: breeding kinks -daddy kink, captain kink. choking, pregnant!reader: spanking, gaslighting- especially shein at the end LOL - emotional abuse, assimilation, kidnapping slight mention - steve gets his happy ending

PSA: YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS CONTENT IS CONSIDERED MATURE. 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: Once Captain America's assistant, you're now the up-coming mother of his child. After Steve's jealousy finally becomes out of hand, you snap at him, only to realise that's the very last thing you should do to a Super Soldier. He decides that your defiance lights a match to spark the fire of you being a brilliant mother.

It’s not like Steve to get this riled up. It’s just difficult watching you discuss initiative with a rookie rather than paying attention to him. He watches as your small hand falls down to brush over your stomach, wondering if your fingers splay over it as a means to reassure yourself that the baby growing inside of you is okay.

Jealousy isn’t a good look on Steve. He’s not a complete airhead - he knows dames usually don’t like it when a man gets stupidly possessive and starts trying to control them, but he just can’t help it. You’re his - literally. Not only are you literally his personal assistant, but you’re also his fiancé and the mother of his child.

“Sweetheart, don’t you think it’s time we get home now?” His voice booms across the training room, his thick hands coming up to massage your shoulders softly. “This much standing can’t be too good for the baby.”

You're terrible at analysis, Steve realizes. You hadn't even noticed he had approached you - evident by how his touch makes you flinch. He feels your nerves jolt beneath him, but to the regular human eye, nothing appears wrong. Steve admits that you’ve grown incredibly wary of his touch recently, only engaging in displays of affection when around other people. In the comfort of your shared home, though, it’s like when he touches you, your body slithers with disgust.

“I am growing slightly tired.” You throw an apologetic smile over at the rookie you were speaking to, all whilst leaning into Steve's touch willingly. He doesn’t miss the prickles of goosebumps that ripple up your skin, the fear which prickles at the back of your neck. He frowns - has his touch ever been unloving, unkind? “I think it’s best I go home and rest up."

Your mutter a few apologies, which forces an eye roll from Steve. Why are you apologizing to people who aren't even worth your time? Frustrated, he begins to steer you out of the compound quickly, irritated as you shuffle away from his touch as though his mere skin is poison.

The drive back to your shared home is silent. Steve is seething as he drives, his grip on the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles are beginning to turn white. He’s tried to be patient and understanding - he really has. But he’s blessed you and he doesn’t understand why you’re so hell-bent on rejecting him and then repenting as though he's a curse. You’re throwing tantrums similarly to what a toddler would, sitting next to him in silence and stewing in unspoken anger, and Steve can’t help but feel slightly hurt by your actions.

Is he not good enough for you? Is that it? Or have you grown tired of him? He has been more than kind, allowing you to still attend work despite the fact you’re growing his child. He has bent and adapted so you do not break, shrugging away every single urge to force tradition upon you.

Perhaps what you need is a sense of tradition. Maybe that will stop the fiery defiance you display, both in public and at home.

“We’re home.” Steve’s voice booms loudly in the car, and you stir from your position, your eyes fluttering open at him.

“Good. I’m tired,” you sigh heavily, forcing yourself out of the car quickly before Steve could come around and open your door for you. “Today’s been exhausting.”

“How so?” Steve almost sneers, grabbing your bag from the car and slamming the driver’s side door shut loudly. “All you do all day is make appointments for me and flirt with other men. It can’t be that difficult.”

You groan, waiting for Steve to unlock the front door before following him into your home. “I don’t flirt with other men, Steve. Stop being so delusional."

You drawl his name out with such annoyance it makes Steve’s jaw twitch. “Really? So you weren't all over that rookie earlier today?” He turns away in annoyance, flicking the light to the living area on. The house keys sway in his fingers, and he chuckles dryly, “give me a break, sweetheart. You were practically begging him to fuck you.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing exasperatedly. “So what if I was begging him to fuck me, Steve?" Your hands fall to your stomach, holding it protectively whilst staring at him with furrowed brows.

Holding something he made.

He stills. “Excuse me?”

The calmness in Steve’s tone makes your blood run cold. You try to ignore how he stops still in the archway of the living area; how his large frame tenses and his fists clench. You suddenly feel as though all the air has been sucked out of the room, and you stumble out (in one last act of pitiful defiance), “so what if I was begging him to fuck me, Steve?“

The drawl of his name is what finally makes him snap. It’s like he sees red - like he can’t believe how you’re actually treating him, despite everything that he’s done for you. Steve’s palm is quickly splayed across your throat, and he growls, sounding similar to that of a wild animal as he begins to try and force you to your knees.

It's not like you don't go down without a fight. You try to resist, somewhat, anyway, but you can’t, because he is so, so much stronger than you are and it’s fucking scary. His hands are so strong that they diminish any force of fight you had within you, as trying to resist him makes you actually feel like your shoulders are going to snap. You whimper pathetically as you kneel before him, staring up at his pupils, which are blown and blackened.

You know better than to irritate him by now, so why do you keep doing it?

“You’re mine,” Steve snaps, his blue eyes icy as he pulls his zipper down. The sharp noise makes you flinch beneath him, trying to shuffle away, but the grip he has on the nape of your neck is tight and holds you in place. “You must be fucking crazy if you think I’d ever let another man touch you. If you think I’ll ever let another man look at you again without consequence.”

His fingers grab at your jaw, forcing your mouth open and you cry out. Steve is visibly angry - furious is perhaps a better word, given the fact he’s practically shaking as grips your face whilst also aggressively pulling his thick, hard cock out of his boxers. “You’re going to have to learn how to put that mouth of yours to better use, doll. It's wasted on those shitty opinions of yours, anyway."

Hands roughly grabbing at your hair, pulling your face towards his cock, you have not much choice but to take him in your mouth. It’s intrusive - terribly so, and Steve manhandles you so roughly it makes your tears prick with tears, but it shamefully sends a throbbing to your pussy. You clench your legs together as you take him, choking as he slides in and out of your mouth until you’re a blubbering mess below him, spit and tears painting your cheeks as he fucks your throat relentlessly.

“Who do you belong to?” He grunts out, pulling so hard at your hair your head pulses. Steve’s hips stutter as you choke around him, your eyes doe-like and wide, covered in wet mascara. “Who the fuck do you belong to?”

“Y-you, Steve,” you choke out as he pulls out of your mouth with an uncomfortable POP!, relishing in the breaths he’s allowing you. “I belong to you.”

Steve's cock is so big it's actually painful. Your throat constricts around his cock as he forces your head down again, grumbling out, “I bet that rookie couldn’t treat you like this. I bet he couldn’t fuck you full of his babies like I have, doll.”

You whine beneath him as he continues to use your throat. Steve is driven entirely by his own pleasure, tiring quickly of your pathetic crying around his cock. With angry thrusts of his hips, Steve watched you gag around him, his cock twitching in your throat as you take all of him in; every inch, and his length is actually somewhat visible in your neck. And it’s driving him crazy- so crazy that he can’t hold back anymore, his rough hands grasping at your hair as he finishes, painting your tongue with his cum.

Steve watches as you choke and thrash against him in an attempt to get away, because his cock and his cum is stuffing your mouth in ways it’s never been stuffed before. It’s suffocating you, and blackness pricks at the corner of your vision - you’re just about to pass out before you Steve mercifully pulls his cock out of your mouth with a disgusting squelch and delivers you a hard slap.

The stinging from his hand sends a sheepish insatiable throbbing to your core that you know will never be satisfied. The tingle which tickles your core makes you clench your thighs, knowing no matter how hard you repent, tonight he will not forgive you.

“This throat is mine to use,” he seethes, his tip still leaking as he presses his cock against your cheek, satisfied with the discomfort that flutters throughout your features. “Say it.”

“This throat is yours to use,” your bottom lip quivers, your eyes spilling tears, some of which fall on Steve’s cock. And it’s shameful how wet you are - how the heat between your legs has grown uncomfortable and how you’re certain your pussy is slick with arousal because somehow it’s all you can focus on. You melt into a weeping puddle, your hands tiny compared to Steve’s cock, desperately trying to push his length away during your tantrum.

It doesn’t work. If anything, it makes him much so much harder - his cock throbs against the skin of your face, and you sniffle as he speaks. “Good girl,” Steve’s praises, his fingers curling in your hair, watching as your eyebrows contort in pain as he tugs gentler than you deserve. “Look at your pretty little face. Covered all over with cum and tears.” He coos, smoothing your hair down gently, a soft pang of love throbbing within his heart.

Your face flushes red, and you blink up, your wet, long lashes batting up at him ridiculously. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, your throat incredibly sore from his invasion, your hands desperately clasping at his thighs, and he watches you in amusement, unable to bite back the excitement as you brush your lips over his length meekly. “Please forgive me, Steve, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know if I can, honey,” he tells you, his big hands making gentle, loving motions in your hair. It’s a sharp contrast to the aggressiveness of his touch moments beforehand, but you bask in it nonetheless. “You were flirting with that rookie, baby, you said you wanted to fuck him. How am I supposed to forgive you for that?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to fuck him!” you whine, and Steve shakes his head.

“That’s what I heard, baby.”

You sniffle, and Steve shakes his head. Why do you have to lie to him? He doesn’t like making you upset - he certainly doesn’t like hurting you. His pretty girl, sitting in front of him with raw, red knees and an even rawer throat, whose ass is yet to be spanked until the pain renders you unable to move. He hates it, and he wishes this pain on nobody, especially not his little girl. Steve is meant to protect you, not hurt you. He’s your saviour, the one man in your life you can rely on and trust with all of your secrets, and yet you lie to him, again and again and again.

Steve hates making you upset, but he loves watching you cry. Conflict tugs at him from the inside, his thumb making gentle strokes in your hair as you speak to him. “I’m sorry, I really am,” you finally say, sinking beneath him obediently. “I didn’t mean any of it. It’s - its probably just the hormones.”

Steve hums in agreement. “It probably is, doll, but just in case it isn’t…I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.” He sucks in a breath, muttering, “let’s see how sorry you really are, doll.”

It takes everything in Steve not to finish all over again when he pulls you atop of him and you gasp in shock, his big hands forcing your hips down, and before you’re even aware of it, your walls are sheathed around his cock. Tight - so tight, and wet, too: ridiculously so. Shameful squelching sounds flood the living room as Steve fucks up into you with long, even thrusts.

The mewls that escape your throat as your small fingers dig into Steve's frame makes him want to impregnate you al over again. If he could, he would - your pussy is addicting, gripping him just right. You’re like Goldilocks. Your walls are so tight that you're practically milking his cock for his cum -, and he bites your neck slightly as you shake and tremble against him, your first orgasm crashing over you like a wave. Hot flashes come over you as your core tightens, the coil inside of you snapping- your little legs shake and you hold onto Steve for support, who rides you through your orgasm.

“This pussy is mine,” he practically growls, his fingers clawing around your throat, palm splayed against it uncomfortably. You thrash wildly when he squeezes, but Steve doesn’t care: you don’t deserve him, not at all, not one bit - he is Captain America! He can do what he wants!

“This pussy is yours,” you rasp as his cock nestles against the spongy spot inside of your pussy, your hips desperately rolling to get any source of friction. “Please, Steve! It’s all yours! Wanna cum again! Wanna cum!”

As you cry desperately, your frame pressing up against his, Steve grins, thrusting up into you painfully slow. The motion is enough, though. It sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, and your coil tightens - it grows tighter every single time he moves, the brush of his cock against the insanely sensitive spot inside of you making your legs quiver.

“You love it. I know you love it, sweetheart. Being filled with my baby. It makes you real wet, doesn’t it, doll?" His voice is gentle, and he peppers soft kisses against your neck, eradicating the pain he had left behind earlier.

"Mhm. I love it and I love you, Steve," you agree eagerly, your hands digging into his shoulders, your timid body taking every slow, dragged thrust of his. “I’m so close.”

Your whimpers make his cock twitch inside of you. You sound heavenly - angelic, the gentle moans that slip past your lips making him wish he could just give you his baby all over again. And he will, after you’ve had this one - god, he can’t wait to pump you full of his babies again and again and again. Steve's hands grip your hips gently, his eyes fluttering shut as your velvety walls squeeze him again, so soft and perfect, and he lets out a hearty moan which makes the knot inside of you tighten.

"I want it," you whimper, your nose brushing against his, and you gaze up at him through wet lashes. “Please.”

Your begging makes Steve bloom with pride, and at your words, he thrusts up into you harder. It's not long before you're bouncing quickly atop him, mewls and cries of pleasure slipping past your lips. Your curls fall messily in front of your eyes, and he sucks in a breath at the ecstatic state of you: you’re desperate - so close to your edge, again. Your cheeks are warm and messy, and the sounds of slick bouncing off of the living room walls makes you feel more cockdrunk than you already are.

And then you begin to come undone atop of him.

He does, too. Steve loves it. Your velvet walls squeeze him so tightly that you’re milking him - you take in every drop of his cum, and as his hips still inside of you, Steve places gentle kisses against your nose.

Your big, beautiful eyes stare back at him, your hips juddering against his. You pant, your nails digging into his chest as you steady yourself atop of him. For a second, you can’t believe it - you really let Steve use you again.

But he loves you. And then conflict tugs at you all over again, because he is a good guy, incredibly so! He’s Captain America, his job is literally to protect you - and hasn’t he done exactly that? You’re the most protected person in America right now, considering the fact you’re pumped full of his babies.

“Do you trust me, sweetheart?”

You nod. “I- I do, Steve.” Your voice trembles, leaning your body weight against his, unable to hold yourself up.

“Good girl.” He brushes his nose against yours, smiling as you tremble against him. “That’s all you’ll ever have to do.”

As Steve carries you to bed, tucking you in tightly, he smiles down at you. He’s glad he’s finally changed the locks, and he’s glad that you don’t have one of the new keys.

He can keep you here now until he thinks you’re ready to go. Until you’re ready to accept your place as Mrs. America.

—

What you used to call kidnapping, Steve called assimilation.

You’re not locked in his house, unable to go home, unable to contact any family or friends. No, you’re just in an educational program, learning how to be a perfect housewife. That’s what Steve says, anyway, snickering away to himself as he does.

It’s lonely, and it’s scary. Yet you have nothing to fear, especially when Steve comes home. He wraps you in his arms, engulfing you in his scent, pressing you against his brawny body as though you’re his world. You breathe him in, clutching at him desperately, thankful that he’s coming home safe and sound.

It’s been so long the thought of escaping no longer even brushes your thoughts, but still, Steve wonders if you have realised your place. He can’t risk letting you out if you haven’t - but then again, who would believe you? A pregnant woman whose husband represents all of the stars and stripes?

Still, he can’t help but worry about you. Have you assimilated? Have you learnt? It’s a question that Steve isn’t sure of the answer, but as you curl into his big frame, he believes that you have. Perhaps you’ve finally learnt it’s easier to comply with the Captain’s orders than to defy them.

“How has your day been, Steve?” you ask, nudging your head into the corner of his neck as he presses his palms against your stomach. He’s big and warm, comforting and strong, peppering gentle kisses against your face, praising you for being such a gorgeous girl.

You’re bulging now. Practically ready to give birth at any second. It sends a gentle ache to Steve’s length, his lips pressing lovingly against your stomach. He loves coming home to you. He always has, even when you defied him and cried and begged him to just treat you like a colleague again. It’s selfish - Steve knows it’s selfish - but he just couldn’t ever go back to not knowing you. Now that he has you, he can’t let you go. Ever.

“Work was fine. Buck and I had to do introduction training with some rookies. They didn’t even leave a scratch.” Steve laughs, hooking his fingers in your sweatpants, tugging them down slightly so your entire stomach is on display. “How was your day, mama? Productive?”

It is slightly distracting as Steve kisses your belly. You scrunch your eyebrows in concentration, your fingers resting in his blond locks. “I painted some of the nursery.” You say shyly, face flushing as he begins to murmur sweet nothings to your stomach. “Just did the trims. There was a few deliveries that came, too, but they were too heavy for me to move. Didn’t wanna hurt myself.”

“Good girl.” Steve’s breath fans against your stomach, his head nestling against you, his hands tugging your sweatpants down some more. “I’ll move them after dinner, get ‘em all sorted,” he tells you, eyes eagerly trained in on your panties as your sweatpants drop to the floor.

It takes everything in him not to let an audible groan crawl out of his mouth. The panties you’re wearing are lacy and baby pink - similar to the ones you wore the first time he fucked you, and it sends another terrible ache to his cock. You squeal as Steve presses a soft kiss to your clothed pussy, and he can hear how quickly your heart begins to race in your chest.

“Steve - Steve, stop, I have a question. Steve, it’s serious!” He stops, looking up at you with his big blue eyes which glisten with mischief. You almost don’t want to ask because he seems so giddy - but then you have caught him in a good mood, so you’ll risk it anyway. Your heart tightens in your chest, and your lips set into a frown when you ask, “I was wondering - uh, when I have our baby - could I - could I go back to work?”

Steve reacts like you’ve just slapped him across the face. His smile drops, and his eyebrows furrow. Just when he thinks you've learned, when he thinks he’s finally flushed you out of this ridiculous twenty-first-century feminist bullshit, it drags you back in.

A woman’s place is not at work. It’s in the home.

"Why do you need to work when you have me?" Steve's voice is eerily calm, and his stubble brushes against your inner thigh. You still against him, tense as your fingers stop in his hair, and he can hear your heart gently racing in your chest.

"It's - it's just something I'd like to do. To keep myself occupied."

Steve groans, rubbing his nose into your skin. "You will be occupied, doll. You'll have a baby to raise."

You gnaw at your lip. Steve’s eyes are intense, and he tries not to bark out an order for you to stop. gnawing on your lips. He despises it when you do that. “We could always get a babysitter so I could go back to work,” you suggest, voice faltering when you notice his eyes darken slightly.

"No. It is your job as a mother to look after our children, sweetheart.” He shakes his head. “Besides, I don’t trust anybody else to raise them.”

"Steve-"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore." Steve grunts from below you, his blue eyes darkening as he gazes up at you. "In fact, I don't want this mentioned again - ever - do I make myself clear?"

“Steve-“

“Do I make myself clear?”

You pout, nodding silently, and Steve lets out an exasperated sigh. His cool breath fans against your thigh, and his thumb doesn’t stop brushing your stomach. He wonders where he ever went wrong with you. You’ve been so good recently, and he ponders on why you have to ruin it. Steve thinks you do it on purpose, rile him up as a way to show one last act of fiery defiance.

He’ll be the bigger person today.

“I can work for us. I can provide for us. Your job as my personal assistant is irrelevant now that you’re carrying our baby.” Steve peppers another gentle kiss against your clothed pussy, and you shudder, your eyes fluttering shut slightly as his fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, gently beginning pulling them down. “You’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted. Everything you’ve ever needed. Put your faith in me, doll, that’s all I ask.”

“Okay, Steve.” Your throat feels tight when you swallow, your knees buckling slightly as Steve’s tongue licks a stripe up your pussy. It sends you by surprise - a hot white flash shoots up through your spine as you tighten your grip in his hair.

“You're soaking, doll,” he murmurs as he parts your thighs with his hands, pressing gentle kisses against your heat. It does feel good - Steve's entire focus is you, and he gently rolls his tongue against your nub, circling his tongue from your clit to your hole and then back up to your clit. "Do you just love the thought of having my babies and taking care of them, baby? Does it get you as riled up as it does me?”

It's embarrassing that Steve's words make your pussy throb. It's even more embarrassing that he knows, a satisfied smirk painting his lips as he dips his tongue into your sweet nectar again. His tongue darts around your clit, and your knees wobble slightly at the action, your hands gripping onto him for support. "Roll against my face, baby, it's okay. I know you want to." His words of encouragement make you mewl, and you do just that - roll your hips against his face, your vision going starry as his tongue swirls against your clit perfectly, the stimulation making the knot in your stomach tighten.

"Steve," you whimper out, your eyes fluttering shut as your legs wobble, his large hands coming up to hold them in place. The feeling of his fingers darting across your thighs sends butterflies to your stomach, and you whine as his tongue keeps flicking against you, making sure to hit every angle of yours he knows that you like.

You hate how much he knows you. You hate how he knows that you're about to cum as your legs give way. Steve hums, the vibrations sending shocks to your pussy, your fingers curling in his hair, the grip tight. You see stars, and hot flashes shoot through you - the knot inside of you tightens and tightens until you feel it snap, to which you cry out, flooding Steve's face with your wetness. And he loves it - he fucking loves it, soothing praises escaping his lips as he quite literally licks your clean, his fingers rubbing soft circles on your thighs.

It's terrible how much you ache when he pulls away from you, how much you miss the feeling of his hot breath fanning against your pussy. Steve stands, his head nestling in your neck, his hands rubbing smooth circles against your stomach. You pant against him, still coming down from your high when you hear a timer ding in the distance of your kitchen.

"Dinner's ready," you murmur, looking up at Steve, flushing as his deep blue eyes stare down at you.

"Dessert before dinner. Not my usual go-to," he comments, to which you laugh.

When he enters the kitchen, the table is already set. You both eat with no mention of your old job - it’s like all defiance within you has melted away, opting to believe that Steve is right. Opting to believe that Steve will do right by you.

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anika-ann · 26 days

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Ocaruj me (Bewitch Me) - S.R.

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; drabbl-ish; a part of this pseudo-medieval-fantasy AU

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 2k

Summary: Knight Steven Rogers is a man with love. That love is you. His beautiful lady who bewitched his soul even without the supernatural powers you possess. He'll follow you anywhere.

It that means bathing in a lake in a moonlight, so be it.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex (shocking in medieval times huh), bit of angst, fluff, knight Steve ‘cause he’s a warning, Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Actual title is Očaruj mě (Bewitch Me) ...tumblr cannot handle a "č" and an “ě“ in their title 🙃 DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; inspired by THIS ask (you can find headcanons and a playlist there)

A/N 2: Chronologically fits before the events of Pomiluj mě, but if you read this first, you will spoil some of the reveals.

Magic is a dark evil thing; that is what all knights of the kingdom are reminded during their studies and training.

Magic is the wicked twine that curls around your wrist when you reach out a hand, grips you tight and drags you towards perdition.

Magic takes face of a twisted beauty, a temptress, and leads you down the path of sin with a smile worth of the Devil himself.

Magic only knows curses and wrongs.

Sir Steven Rogers knows these axioms by heart.

Steve knows they are horseshit; or at least fail to fulfil the basic rule of an axiom, which is supposed to be universality.

In Steve’s eyes, people are corrupted by many things, amongst which there is the power that comes with magic. That much is true. But the nature of magic itself is pure; t reveals the person wielding it and amplifies who they already are.

Steve would only agree with part of the axiom second to last, assured whenever he sees you. He would now too, standing near the bank of a lake, still fully clothed, his gaze inevitably drawn to the enticing image in front of him.

You, standing to the waist in the water, dressed in but the luxurious robe of moonlight caressing your skin and wearing the lake like the richest skirt; your hair cascading down freely like an elaborate veil, the commonly dark ink of your tattoo reaching from the side of your neck down your shoulder shinning bright.

When you glance over your shoulder, eyes glimmering more entrancingly than the moon and the stars combined, lips curling in a smile, the last thing Steve would compare you to would be the Devil, a dark evil thing.

The truth, however, is that if you did decide to drag him towards his end, he would follow voluntarily, heart pounding just as hard as it is now, with warmth in his chest and searing heat in is gut.

When you speak his name, a sweet ‘rytier moj’, you indeed are every bit of a temptress, the seductress steering him toward the most beautiful of sins; but not in the name of evil.

In the name of love.

“How is it that you are not cold, bosorka moja? And by gods, remind me, love, why is it that I should follow?” he asks with a grin on his lips, as if he does not feel every ounce of his body being pulled to you by the alluring image of you alone, by the promise of the feel of your skin under his fingertips, of the taste of your lips, of your wickedly delicate hands touching him in ways no unwed lovers should.

You have told him there was a deeper meaning in bathing in that particular lake on this very night, but as fascinated as he always is by your faiths and magic, you have been convincing him with your lips whispering to his own, causing his memory to be considerably less reliable, his mind much more pliant.

You turn around to face him fully, your watery skirt swirling; Steve’s mouth turns dry at the sight of your stiff nipples and plump breasts, his last reservations dispersing as his pants become uncomfortably tight.

“For this lake is believed to possess supernatural properties, rytier moj. For I know it does,” you remind him gently, your gaze trailing down his body in appreciation as he sheds his cloak, his tunic and pants.

You once told him what you saw when he did and have aided him in recalling it quite frequently.

Beauty.

Strength.

Goodness.

Safety.

Home.

And desires personified.

Steve is only a man; all these are virtues in his mind, privileges, and the one that is not makes him preen all the more.

Dark eyes glimmering in the moonlight, your smile earns a teasing edge even as your words begin with gravity.

“Bathing in the light of the full moon nearest to the summer solstice makes one stronger. Something my knight might appreciate. I know I for sure would, since he insists on recklessly risking his life.”

His own lips curl up, heart humming with tenderness; he is cared for. He is worried about. He is loved. He is not the only one who has the comfort of a lover on their mind. Perhaps it is for ‘lovers’ is not quite the word fit for where his heart quivers in the matter of you and him. Not the only word.

Desire personified.

Gorgeous temptress.

But also beloved.

Láska moja.

Bosorka moja.

Home.

“All knights do, bosorka moja,” he says as he steps into the water, the liquid welcoming him with an unexpected sensation of cold and warmth combined.

Where his skin meets the water, immersed deeper with each tentative step on the invisible rocky floor, he is enveloped with an unfamiliar sensation, the warmth seeping into his skin almost violently, leaving gentle tingling in its wake.

His lungs expand. His heart thunders. His muscles ache until they feel as light as a feather. His large bones seem to harden, his joints feel stronger but pliant. His blood pumps vigorously, forcing a shuddering breath out of his chest.

Well, he’ll be damned; he would be if he wasn’t so blessed. He would never doubt you again. Not that he ever truly did.

You watch him, a hypnotic and hypnotizing gaze, soaked in the satisfaction and desire having thickened your tenderness. Your skin almost glows and Steve understands that his eyes were not deceiving him earlier. He is not the only one absorbing power; yours might be different in nature from his, so different and ethereal, a true force of nature, but a power nevertheless. And as you soaked in the water, your immense power grew further.

“And yet, I have not seen any knight, soldier or mercenary, nor the clumsiest commoner with as many scars, nor I saved them from so many,” you oppose him, still playful; yet, your voice has earned a husky quality Steve is drawn to like a mot to a flame, his steps growing confident.

For almost every step he takes, you take one back, away from him, sinking deeper, hiding your tempting body from his hungry sight. A delightful feigned chase begins, one of which you both know will only end in bodies intertwined. A dance Steve knows, for he has felt its thrill before, for he has danced with you before; he has danced lips to lips, hands to hips, hips to hips, lips attached to your mound with hooded eyes too, senses enveloped with heady primal need, laced with love both corporal and intangible.

It all hums within him, pounds with force bolstered by the magic surrounding him. You feel it too; he reads as much in your features.

“You haven’t seen them naked either,” he notes, a slight smile remaining.

The conversation continues even as it fades.

You hum with a smile of your own, stopping at last as takes three long strides and catches up with you, gazing up at him with a sweet challenge he cannot refuse. “That is true, rytier moj.”

But that is not what your body whispers, already miles ahead when only inches from him.

Touch me, it coaxes him instead.

Hold me.

Love me.

Have me.

Fill me.

Make me sing for you. Only for you.

Do as you crave; I crave the same, just as much.

Who is he to deny a lady? Who is he to deny you, especially when the wordless pleas entice him, please him, echo his own?

The slight prickle of strength reborn, one unknown to ordinary men, still heats his very core, his lips speaking on their own even as his fingers wander with purpose, over the skin of your waist, down your hip, over your belly button, to your sternum, over the swell of your breast, stepping closer to feel your hardened peaks brush against his chest, eliciting a breathy sound of his name amongst his questions.

“What of other blessed nights bathing in this lake? Equinoxes as well?”

Your hands move with purpose too; mapping the constellations of freckles and moles on his body, caressing the planes of strengthened muscle with teasing lightness. Your touch is surprisingly warm, Steve realizes distantly, his head and hands full of you; if he did not know better, if he did not know you were a witch, he would think you an entirely different magical species.

As you nod and explain, your hand rises above water, stroking over his shoulder – the water follows seemingly effortlessly, swirling and curling around your palm; even as you speak, he shudders under the touch where your hands could not have possibly reached him, not at so many places at once; and yet, every single of these caresses are just as warm, loving and teasing as those of your own fingers.

With how you bended the water to your will, Steve would have thought you were born to do so. He would have thought he found himself a water nymph instead. His breathtaking, enchantingly playful water nymph.

“Bathing in the lake on a new moon nearing the spring equinox breeds rebirth, ridding of all old aches, body and heart,” you explain quietly, intimately, as your fingers tease along the dip along his hips, his own hands grasping your soft flesh with urgency growing. “First new moon after the autumn equinox calls upon the forest spirits, their protection, bringing the wiseness of our ancestors with their blessings.”

Steve’s head is full of you; your words, almost fairy-tale like, but spoken with reverence of a person who knows them true, whose rituals has called upon the forces of nature and has been rewarded for it, blessed by them.

His hands are full of you too and as his heart sings.

The rest of his body vibrates with need, impatient fingers slipping lower, towards your core, teasing alongside your slit. Even as he asks the only natural question, his focus is elsewhere, fingertip dipping into your welcoming heat, his lips whispering against yours, your hips eagerly meeting his touch.

“And what of winter solstice, bosorka moja? Tell me,” he coaxes, revelling in your playful touch turning into a grip on his hip instead, other hand wrapping around his own to urge him to sink his finger deeper, for another to join.

Who is he to deny you again? His bewitching water nymph, whose heat would envelop him just as welcomingly as the water of the lake and fill him with just as much exceptional powerful sensation...

Love her.

Take her.

Protect her.

Make her mine.

“It keeps your heart warm,” you sigh, mouth chasing after his, fingertips finally brushing over his hardness, curling around the length and squeezing and twisting enough for his strained muscles to melt, rushing to lift your leg to wrap around his waist, opening you up for him, your taste, your scent, your husky voice like the most tempting trap he rushes into with vigour and pride. “Keeps your love safe. On the full moon close--- oh Steve— closest to the solstice- preserving it even through the— the harshest of winters----Steven!

The steady movements of his fingers stutter at the needy pulsing grip around them, eliciting another and another, his thumb brushing over your clit, mouth slanting over yours to swallow your cries of ecstasy, cradling your head to his as your hips keep rocking into his hand. You’ll feel like heaven, like you always do, but the burst inside him at feeling your pleasure coaxed by him is almost, almost enough.

“I’ll be here,” he promises against your lips, kissing you again, tipping your head back, your body so gorgeously pliant to his greedy touch. “I will be here, with you, every quarter a year. Every month, every day, love.”

“Ľubim ťa,” you gasp and Steve makes another promise, to not meet you here, but bring you. Bring you from your shared home at last, because even by the damn equinox, he will have done you right, a ring on your finger, his everything made yours, as you deserve.

“Ľubim ťa, bosorka moja,” he whispers back, a chuckle escaping him when his eyes flutter open, offered a sight of soft sprinkles and curls of water rising above the surface and glimmering in the moonlight.

Your magic exploding outside of you as pleasure fills your veins.

Steve is certain it will never cease to amaze him; or spur him to coax something even more fascinating when chasing his own peak and yours together, even as that alone is a gift he cherishes.

Your hands slide to his shoulders for leverage as his fingers leave you empty, moving to your bottom to lift you up, sliding in almost effortlessly.

No words are needed then. As you connect your bodies and souls alike, the water keeps dancing.

You glow behind Steve’s hooded eyes, tattoo shining as bright as your affection, beauty and goodness, a reminder that no, magic could not be further from the darkness in corporal form. In every waking moment, he would swear he has never seen, nor heard, nor felt anything more beautiful and lighter than you, even with a face and voice of a temptress you embody.

The only sin you have led him to, the only speckle of shame on his honour, is the one he will remedy soon and has nothing do with your magical nature.

No, not the Devil; a goddess in your own right.

And you have not cursed him, no. Sir Steven Rogers, tvoj rytier, entirely bewitched, feels blessed.

Other headcanon and playlist

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this universe

Complete masterlist

Terms of endearment from Slovak language: Rytier moj (My knight) Bosorka moja (Witch mine) Láska moja (Love mine) Ľubim ťa (I love you)

I hope you enjoyed, loves 💕 Please consider leaving feedback/reblog/anything if you did 🥰

May April be kind to you 🌼✨

#steve rogers x reader #knight steve rogers #knight steve rogers x you #knight steve rogers imagine #knight steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america au #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #medeival au #fantasy au #fairy tale au #ocaruj me #bewitch me #pomiluj me #love me tender #anika ann

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

Text

All the Good Girls Go To Hell 19

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, power imbalance, injury, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You come home for the summer but your break is not as relaxing as you expect.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: Friday!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

"Is it berries?" Bucky asks as you cradle your head and the phone.

You shake your head, hunched over your knees, still sat on the cold tarmac. "There aren't any berries here," you sniffle, "just flowers."

"Oh, well, is it a flower?" He continues to guess.

His coolness, his light tone, it makes your own world seem less dire. You hear a car door, a noise that seems to echo speaker rustles. You sigh and tell him no again. He's been trying to guess this whole time and it's starting to get frustrating.

"Alright, game's over, doll. What was it?"

You look up as a shadow strides up the driveway. You get to your knees as Bucky comes closer. You lower the phone as you stare at him dumbly.

"How did you find me?" You blubber.

"You said you were with Naomi... I can track her phone. I bought it. Plus she always ends up with that kid," he shrugs as he offers his hand, "come on, let's get you off the ground."

"Why?" You stare at his thick fingers.

"Why what?"

"Why are you helping me?"

"Doll, let's not get into those feelings right now," he sighs, "please, you can't stay here. I can't leave a sweet thing like you out in the dark all night. Not like she did."

"Alright," you croak and take his hand. He hauls you up easily and lets you lean on him,.

"So, what was it?" He asks.

"What was what?" You murmur.

"The red thing."

"Oh, uh," you swing around and point, nearly toppling as he catches you, "the gnome's hat."

"Huh, never would've guessed," he clucks as he clings to you, "come on, doll, we really should get you out of here."

You let him lead you down the driveway. You feel very week as you let more of your weight lean on him. Your head lolls as your eyes threaten to close on their own. You open them as you approach the car and he opens the door. He sits you down in the seat and bends to get you in straight. His rough palms graze your knees and thighs before he pulls back, putting a hand on the roof.

"You good? Get your belt done up."

You nod and do as he says. He watches, looming over you, moonlight limning his figure.

"Good girl," he growls and his timbre sends a shiver through you, "I want you to stay awake for me, can you do that?"

"Yes, Bucky," you lean your head back and focus through the windshield, vision glazing.

"I know you can, baby," he caresses your shoulder and closes the car door. He gets in the driver's side as you hug yourself and chatter. "Cold?"

You nod and he reaches into the back seat. He pulls forward a grey hoodie and offers it to you. You take it and spread it across your shoulders. It smells like him. It's almost comforting.

"Right," he hits the button and the engine rolls over, "some music will help."

He turns on the stereo and flips to a pop station. You doubt it's his kind of music. He shifts into gear, giving you a long look before he pulls out.

"Doll, why don't you tell me what happened?" Bucky prompts as he keeps a hand on the bottom of the steering wheel, his other on the corner of your seat.

"I..." you sniff and take a deep breath, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Ah," he hums and nods, "did Naomi do something?"

You shrug and look out the window. He exhales as he slows at the stop sign.

"Did she hurt you?" His voice is gravelly.

"Not exactly," you lean into the door and cover your face with your hands, "it's not just what happened at the party... it's-- it's-- my mom. And Steve. And everyone!"

Your babbling. You can feel it but you can't stop it. The alcohol has you under its spell and fuels your distress. You just want to explode.

"Oh, your mother?"

"Yeah," you whine and pulls your hands away from your face, "her and Steve– and I can’t even go home–”

"Your mom and Steve?" He asks.

You snap your mouth shut. You shouldn't have told him that.

"Oh, doll," he coos, "I'm sorry."

His fingers stray down to your shoulder and he rubs it through the fabric of the hoodie. It's soothing despite everything. Gentle. You're tired. So tired. You just want to sleep. You lean back and yawn.

He squeezes your shoulder, "doll, stay awake. Remember what I said," he retracts his hand, "I'll get us home and you can lay down there, alright?"

You nod and peel your eyes open, "okay... thank you, Bucky."

"Anything for you," he says so quietly you barely hear him, "I'm gonna keep you safe."

🏡

The world sways around you. You can hardly lift your head. You open your eyes and see Bucky above you, feel his arms around you. He carries you throughthe shadows of the house.

You shift in his arms and he peeks down. "It's alright, doll, you tried."

You kep your head on his shoulder. You can hear his heartbeat. He's warm, he smells like cedar. You blink, eyelids sticking. He takes you into the guestroom and places you on the foot of the bed.

He makes you sit up, hands on your arms as he holds onto you, bending to look you in the face. You notice the fresh sheets, no longer the crisp white but patterned with dainty pink flowers. He brings a hand under your chin and makes you meet his gaze.

"I'll get you something to wear, doll, and some water," he explains.

You murmur and nod. He lets you go and reluctantly turns away. He stalks off as you lean over your lap, elbows on your thighs as you struggle not to fold.

"Here," he surprises you as he comes in again, "there's a shirt for you."

He hands you a tidy white tee shirt, one of his. You thank him through your sticky mouth. He goes to the night table and puts down the glass of water in his other hand.

"Make sure you drink that before you lay down," he says.

"I will," you whisper.

He goes again as you tug at the dress. You slip free of the tight sheath, tits falling out as you stand in nothing but your panties. You swoop the shirt over you and struggle to poke your head through. You grab the water and gulp it down, feeling it swish into your belly.

You put the glass back and turn to the bed. You teeter and fall onto the mattress, sprawled on your stomach.

You hear a subtle creak. Bucky's footfalls lightly glance over the floor and he sets a bucket next to your bed.

"Just in case," he touches your shoulder, "try not to roll onto your back."

"Got it," you utter sleepily and close your eyes, another yawn escaping you.

He drags his hand away and you feel him tug on your tee shirt, pulling the hem to cover the edge of your panties. He then drapes the blanket over you before retreating with a soft 'good night'. The light turns off and you're left in the dark, quickly succumbing to a drunken stupour.

🏡

You feel like you’re drowning in sludge. The morning blares over you from the window as you emerge from the deep pit of alcohol-laced sleep. You groan and stiffly bend your arm, pressing a palm to your forehead as it pulses. This is why you don’t drink, it’s not worth it.

Confusion comes after the onslaught of agony. You stare at the ceiling, taking in the room little by little. Your mind pieces together how you got there. The party, Naomi grabbing you, kissing you, running out… fractured memories that lead to that very moment.

You push yourself up with aching arms. You didn’t expect to be back here. You don’t know how to do this. After all he’s done, you feel like you owe Bucky. You can at least hear him out. He can’t be as bad as Naomi claims if he’s the only one trying to take care of you.

You get up, stopping to lean on the night table. Your hand trails onto the empty glass and you pick it up. It’s as good an excuse as any.

You go out into the hall, peering up and down. You pad along towards the kitchen, an eeriness follows you knowing that it’s only you and Bucky. You’re not surprised to find him waiting in the kitchen. He always seems to be a step ahead of you.

The smell of coffee draws a rumble from your stomach. You look sheepishly at your host and show the glass, going to the sink to rinse it. As you place it in the rack, he takes down a mug and fills it, sliding it towards you. He’s the first to speak.

“Morning,” he waits, watching you as you hook your fingers through the handle of the cup.

“Morning,” you eke out, too nervous to try the coffee. You inhale and make yourself look at him, “I’m sorry–”

“I should be sorry,” he says, “I shouldn’t have let you go with Naomi. I should’ve told the truth. Way before that. I shouldn’t have gone along with any of it.”

You stare at him. His blue eyes flicker as his cheek dimples, anxiety needling in his forehead. He gestures towards your hand on the cup.

“Please, have your coffee.”

You drag the mug to the edge and lift it. You drink with a long hum. Oh, it feels good. You pull the brim away from your lips and swallow thickly. You clear your throat and peek up at him again.

“So it’s all true?” You ask, hoarsely.

“I don’t know what she told you but…” he hesitates, “I’m not her father.”

“Yeah,” you agree crisply.

“I can show you,” he turns and reaches for his phone, “everything. Right here. This is what she sent me the first time she brought you over.”

He shows you the screen, holding his thumb down to keep the chat from rolling back up. You see Naomi’s name at the top of the chat and the bubbles back and forth. You read the received message by his thumb.

‘Bringing a friend. Please say you’re my dad, don’t wanna freak her out.’

You chew your lip. It doesn't disprove anything she told you. You frown and he starts to flick through the conversation.

“Look, just tell me the truth,” you demand, though your tone is less than intimidating.

He sighs and lowers the phone, “we have an arrangement. I support her and she… supports me. In a way.” He looks down ashamed, “I’m not going to make excuses. I could say I was lonely, newly divorced, stupid. It was convenient–”

“She was vulnerable,” you suggest.

He nods, “that’s true. But I never intended… when she brought you…” He pokes his tongue out and closes his eyes, “I’m trying to just explain but there’s so much. Thing’s fizzled out.

"When she got back from college, she was just angry all the time so I gave her space. I told her that we could end things but I would help her find a place, keep paying her tuition and she could make it up to me later. When she got a job.”

He backs up and leans on the counter. He crosses his arms and raises his head. He looks tired, drawn.

“She brought you over and you’re so nice and it was– is refreshing. To have someone look at you without hate. My ex-wife, she had the same look as Naomi got. I don’t know what I did,” he sniffs, “but I’m sure I deserved it. I guess I’m needy.”

“Alright,” you mutter, unsure what else to say. Two sides of the same story. They line up, to a point.

“I know I can’t ask you to trust me. If I was you, I’d be… I’d be confused, creeped out, everything. I really don’t know what to say or do at this point. I called you over and over thinking I could explain myself out of it but there’s no excuse. And then you answered and you were drunk and crying and I came without thinking. Because I know Naomi, she’s destructive and I thought maybe she got you into trouble.

“And then you mentioned your mom and well, that broke my heart. I really can’t believe that she’d kick you out. Her own child. Even Mimi’s parents weren’t that cruel.”

You blanch and take another swig of coffee, trying to set yourself straight.

“They didn’t? Her parents didn’t kick her out?”

“No,” a stitch forms in his forehead, “no, I guess she stormed out after some argument. They suggested maybe she stay and go to school here but she didn’t like that. She was on Steve’s couch for a while and then ended up here. Wanda got a bit crowded.”

You try to hide your surprise. You put the cup back on the counter and stare into the depths. Naomi lied. Maybe not about everything but she made it seem much more sinister.

“Doll,” Bucky rasps, “you okay? You gonna be sick or something?”

You bat your lashes, fighting back tears. You’re lost. You don’t know who to believe but your best bet is the one who isn’t groping you for her friends or cornering you when you’re alone. Your lip quivers as you search for a response.

“I… I believe you,” you breathe.

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #all the good girls go to hell #au #marvel #mcu #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

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deanswhiskey · 4 months

Text

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭? - 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

summary; what happens when your car breaks down and a stranger is there to help?

wc; 2,495

warnings; smuttt!!! (p in v, fingering, cunnulingus), implied consent

authors note; pls lmk how you feel about this. i remember read a steve rogers fic (i think) that was sorta similar, i wish i could rememebr the fic so i could tag it for credit. also this was my first time writing smut in a couple lmk what you think about that too

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

the lonesome sound of your boots skidded along the dry asphalt as you walked up to the road. your care had broken down some miles back, you lost count, and now you're headed up the road to find some sort of civilization.

of course, your car had to break down on some back road in the middle of nowhere with nothing but open fields. your phone had died too before you could call a tow truck service. could this scenario be any more cliché? you thought.

you stopped to take a break. the bottoms of your feet pounded and your legs ached. a thin layer of sweat covered your forehead due to the heat that pounded against your skin.

your black purse hung from your shoulder as you reached in looking for your wallet, just as a check to make sure it was there. after a moment of digging, its not there. it got worse.

groaning, you look around to see if there were any cars. there were none; you sighed and continued up the road. you found a small rock to kick aimlessly to entertain yourself in some sort of way.

this continued for about another mile before you could hear a faint purring of an engine. you snapped your head behind you, forgetting all about the poor rock you'd been kicking.

squinting to look at the car in the distance, you could see a black muscle car making its way towards you. a small smile appeared on your face, maybe this person will choose kindness and help you out.

you waved the car down and you could see the car start to slow its way to you. when it slowed to a stop next to you, you bent down to look at the driver who stopped.

a devilishly handsome man sat with his left hand atop the steering wheel. his green eyes pierced into you, "what's a pretty girl like you doing out here?"

your cheeks heated at him calling you pretty, "well my car broke down a while back and my phones dead and i forgot my wallet, so i'm just walking to the nearest town." you shrugged.

"so that's what that car back there was," the mystery man said. he gave you a small smirk, "why don't you hop in, i'll take you where you need to be."

"really? thank you so much," you gleaned. you opened the passenger door and hopped in.

"i'm dean," the man smirked. he offered his hand out for a shake.

"y/n," you smiled and shook his hand.

deans fingers tapped the wheel in rhythm the the classic rock song softly playing in the background. “so where were you headed, sweetheart?”

“actually,” you look down at your hands, “nowhere in particular, just seeing where the wind takes me.” you smile over at him. “what about you, where are you headed?”

“same as you, sweetheart,” his green eyes stared at you. your cheeks flushing at the nickname again. “i’m actually headed to meet my brother a few towns over, we do this thing together.”

“well that’s nice, what do you guys do?” you asked.

“we hunt monsters,” dean bluntly said. you gave him a confused sort of look.

dean smirked when he saw your face, letting out a small chuckle, “kidding, doll, we used to work for the fbi, now we just travel the country. part time mechanics too, wherever we can find work.”

“you used to work for the fbi?!” you beamed. “what was it like?” your body now faced him, wanting to hear about his fbi journeys.

“ah, sweetheart, i can’t really say.” you frowned. “it was a messy job, though. my brother and i were the best.” he boasted while you let out a small chuckle.

after a moment of silence, dean spoke up again, “did you do anything?”

you just shrugged, “i used to be a writer for some shitty newspaper.”

“cant have been that shitty if you used to write for it,” your face was constantly blushing from all the names and compliments he was giving you.

you just smiled back at him and stared at the road ahead.

after a little while, and some more small talk later, you were finally starting to see some civilization; a bus stop, followed by some small local shops.

you groaned and smiled, “finally, i can get my car fixed.” the auto repairs shop moved closer as the two of you moved up the road.

it started to move further away, your smile and lessened, dean was driving away from it. “let me get you some food first. you need some food in ya’,”

“oh dean,” you glanced over at him, “i cant let you do that, i’m fine.”

“no, no, don’t give me that, i’m buying you some food.” he smiled at you, green eyes flashing in the sunlight.

dean wouldn’t let you put up anymore of a fight. he pulled into the small parking lot of the diner in whatever town you two were in. it looked like a little mom and pop diner.

the two of you sat in a booth far away from other people. you glanced over the menu, settling for a chicken sandwich with a side of fries; dean ordered a burger.

while waiting for your food, you broke the silence between you two, “why do you call me sweetheart, and doll?”

the smile on his face never seemed to leave when he was talking to you, “well, ‘cause you are one, sweetheart.”

“but you don’t know me.”

“you have the beauty for one,” your cheeks flushing again. does this man ever stop, you thought.

the waitress came and dropped your food and drinks off and the two of you dug in. you haven’t eaten since sometime yesterday, and with all the walking your hunger grew. you were very thankful for dean.

the sandwich was damn near perfect; you hardly spoke you were too busy eating.

you finished your last. it’s and wiped a napkin on your face, getting off whatever food may be around your mouth, and threw it in the plate.

the waitress came back and grabbed your plates, “can i get you two any dessert?” she asked sweetly.

you were about to tell her no thank you, since you really needed your car fixed, but dean interjected. “we will have two slices of your finest pie, ma’am,” he smiled at that waitress.

the waitress walked away, “dean, i really need to get my car fixed,” you spoke up.

“sweetheart, it’ll be okay, it’s just a little slice of pie,” those beautiful green eyes enticed you, convincing you to stay and eat the pie.

“okay,” you sighed and smiled, “but that’s it.” your finger pointing out at him, pretending to scold him. dean just chuckled.

the waitress brought out two slices of cherry pie, your favorite, and apparently deans too. the two of you dug into the pies, making small talk again while you ate.

the waitress came back with the check book and receipt, dean immediately snatching it and putting his credit card in there.

“thank you, dean, i don’t know how i’ll ever repay you.”

deans eyes flicker down to your lips, a faint of a smirk on his lips, “i could think of one way.”

the gears in your head clicked, “oh,” you said sheepishly, the heat rising to your cheeks once more.

dean licked his lips in a seductive manner, he grabbed your hand and the two of you made your to the counter where the waitress sat. dean paid and the two of you made your wait to the impala.

“c’mon, let me take you somewhere where you can repay me,” he opened the passenger door.

“are you sure?”

“more than sweetheart,” he leaned in and kissed your cheek.

the two of you eagerly made your way to a motel dean was taking you. your nerves were high but so was your sex drive.

deans hand sat dangerously on your thigh. his thumb stroked circles on the inside of your thigh. heat radiated through your body, you just hoped dean couldn’t feel it.

the car screeched a bit when dean pulled into the motel parking lot. the two of you got out of the car, you started headed towards the check in office.

“what’re you doing, sweetheart?” you look at dean with confusion, all he does is pull out a set of keys you can only assume are keys to a room. you were confused as to why he already had keys, but you quickly brushed it off.

he nodded his head in the direction of the room with a smile on his face. dean held out his hand for you to take as he lead you to the room.

dean turned to you when you both entered the room and the door was shut. his lustful green eyes looked down into your own. you wanted this as much as he did, and he could see it in your eyes.

a hand reached up to move some hair from your face and stayed resting at the side of your head.

there was the smallest bit of hesitation in dean and he started to lean down to kiss you. you took the liberty of meeting him the rest of the way.

your lips meshed together as the two of you kissed. what started out as a gentle kissed turned into a heavier kiss. deans hands cupped your face as yours rested on his chest, grabbing at his shirt.

dean walked you back and your body hit the door behind you; a groan escaping your mouth which caused dean to groan himself.

deans kisses moved from your lips down to your neck leaving you breathless. his lips left little spots that would soon turn into hickeys, then shortly moved back to your lips.

strong masculine hands gripped your waist pulling impossibly closer. soon they traveled, very slowly, down to your ass, gripping harshly before lifting you up. your legs locked around his hips.

dean made his way to the bed, sitting down on it so you were now straddling him, taking what little control you had. your hips rocked once against his, earning a groan from dean which put a smirk on your face. you did it again just to hear that groan, that oh-so-sweet groan; you practically slly giggled at the sound.

“oh really?” dean said pulling away with a mischievous grin on his face. before you could say anything he flipped to two of you over so he was on top.

deans lips moved down to your neck then right onto your chest, he gripped one of your breasts, it was your turn to groan now. he pulled back and looked down at your shirt, gently tugging at the bottom, silently asking to take it off. you nodded and he slid it up over your head. you were now left in a black lace bra.

“lace,” dean paused. “sexy.” smirk never leaving his face. you pulled in the bottom of his shirt, telling him to take his off, which he did. his perfectly sculpted body now lit by the dim lightning of the room. you ran your hands along his ab lines.

dean dipped his head back down and continued kissing along your breasts. slowing making his way down your chest and along your stomach. you squirmed under his gentle kisses, letting out a desperate moan. dean chuckles vibrated against your hot skin, making you want more.

dean reached your heat and looked up through his eyelashes, you simply nodded, needing your shorts off now. he unbuttoned them and slowly pulled them down and discarded them somewhere in the room. all that was left was your matching panties. it’s like you planes this for him, like you knew he would be here.

dean pressed a kiss against your panties then giving a small lick, to tease you. “please dean,” you half-whispered, half-whimpered out. that was all it took for dean to essentially rip of your panties. “you’re already soaked,” he said.

his tongue lapped in all sorts of motions that drove you wild. it swirled around your clit before sucking on it, stars in yours eyes started to appear.

deans hand slowly made its way up your thigh, his finger teasing your entrance. a moan passes your lips and he slips a finger in, pumping it slowly. eventually, he hands another, making you a mess.

the knot in your stomach tightens as dean continues to lick and finger you. “dean, i’m about to-” you don’t finish your sentence because dean interrupts you.

“i know, baby, let it go.” and with that you did, your moans and whimpers echo off the motel walls.

right as you catch your breath, you hear the sound of deans belt unbuckling. you were eager for his cock but you knew you were gonna be sore tomorrow.

with a thud, deans pants and boxers are now discarded. dean pulls out a condom from his wallet and you take the small package from his hand and pull it out. you place the condom on his erection and give it a couple strokes, small grunts escape deans lips and his head is thrown back.

“i wanna feel you dean,” you seductively say looking up at him.

within seconds, you’re pushed back down on the bed, deans lips hungrily attack yours. he pulls back, grabbing his cock and lining himself up with you. he pushes the tip in while you inhale sharply at the feeling; he pushes further until he bottoms out, you moan, his length filling you.

you tighten around his cock and dean groans. he looks at you, silently asking if he can move, you just nod. he starts slowly thrusting into you, leaving you a moaning mess.

he bends back down, kissing you, hard yet gentle. it was sweet, in a way, vulnerable almost. though, you could hardly kiss back.

soon, the knot tightens once more, “dean, i’m close.”

“i know sweetheart,” he grunts, “hold it for my baby, just a little longer.” you whimper in response, desperately needing to release.

deans forehead rests against yours, “come for me, sweetheart,” stars exploded in your vision as you climaxed. you haven’t felt this euphoric in a while.

deans own release followed after. he got up and discarded the condom, body going limp on the bed beside you.

“how was that?” dean asked settling under the motel covers with you.

you were breathing heavy with a smile on your face, “that was fun, baby!”

“i know,” dean started, turning his head to look at you, “who knew role playing could be so fun.”

“we should do that more often,” you smiled, leaning over to kiss to your boyfriend, this time with more passion.

you snuggled into dean, suddenly feeling tired. his arms wrap around as the two of you slowly drift off to sleep.

maybe you and dean should experiment more.

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

#spn #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #supernatural imagine #supernatural smut

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scoobydoobaday · 1 month

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The Scooby Doo Show S01E11 - A Bum Steer for Scooby (1976) Hanna Barbera Productions

#the scooby doo show #shaggy and scooby in disguise #a bum steer for scooby #shaggy rogers #scooby doo #hanna barbera

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keraxxx · 7 months

Text

Kinktober day 2: Car sex

Steve Rogers x Fem! Reader

Summary: Title speaks for itself.. Car sex with Mr. Rogers after dinner.

Warnings: 18+, cursing, car sex, oral(r receiving), nicknames, fingering, p in the v, unprotected sex, AFAB! reader, unedited work. (lmk if i missed something please and thank you!)

a/n: HI GUYS. i’m sorry for disappearing but yk i cant miss Kinktober. 🤭 Sorry for missing day one but here’s day two and enjoy!!

Masterlist

^^REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!(+kinktober character ideas)

—————

You and Steve were on your way home from dinner. He wanted to take you out since you both have been having a difficult week at work.

“It’s so quiet in this car.” You mumble. “Let me play some music pleaseee Steve.” You whine as you look over to him. Steve chuckles as he keeps his eyes on the road. “Whatever you want baby.” Smiling, you connect your phone to the car.

You weren’t paying attention to the playlist you put on but there were.. interesting songs. Suggestive, SENSUAL songs. The first song to play was by The Weekend - What you need. Your face dropped as the song started playing, you look over slightly and could see Steve clenching the steering wheel. He cleared his throat, adjusting himself in the seat.

‘I just want to take you there. He don't gotta know where. Does he touch you here like this, this, this, this? Let me take the friction from your lips’

Each word was suggestive. The tension in the air was laying heavy on your chest. “I think i’m just gonna change the song..” You reach to pick up your phone but Steve places his hand on yours, quickly stopping you.

“No.. don’t change it now.” He gently intertwines his fingers with yours. “Be honest, did you purposely put this song on?” You could tell he was getting bothered, squirming in his seat, try to cover his slight hard on. “No i swear. I just put on a random playlist..” You bite your lip slightly, almost nervous.

The rest of the car ride is practically silent. You can see Steve tensing up as he grips the steering wheel, his eyes drifting over to look at you every once in a while. “Fuck I can’t.” He finally blurts out, pulling off to the side of the road. The road was empty since it was kinda late but some cars would pass by.

“I want you. Backseat, now.” He says as he gets out the car. You obey, hopping into the backseat.

You both get into the back of the car and as soon as you shut the door, he pins you against the car seat, attacking your neck with kisses. “Steve-“ “Shhh.” He hissed slightly into your neck as he nibbled at your sensitive skin, making you weak in the knees.

“Please let me take care of you.” Steve looked at you, his eyes filled with lust. “Do what you do best.” You say looking back at him as you begged for him to touch you in any way. He grinned from ear to ear before kissing your neck again, trailing his way down to your thighs. He lifted his hands up under your short dress and god his hands. You loved how skilled he was.

You sit up and look down at him between your thighs, eagerly bunching your dress up around your waist, revealing your panties, revealing your slickness. “All this for me?” He chuckles. “That song really did something to us..” He sighs as he kisses your thigh, slightly licking your skin. You shiver at his tongue on your skin again.

His digits graze over your clothed clit causing you to whine softly. You slightly bucked your hips forward which caused Steve to laugh. He placed a hand on your hip, holding up the dress at the same time before using his other hand to discard your underwear. Your slickness was revealed to him, your skin feeling warmer to the touch.

Your lips parted into an inaudible moan as he touch your swollen bud. You squirmed under his touch and he found this slightly amusing by how bad you wanted him. “Steve please i need to feel you inside me.” You whined as he looked up at you, his fingers making their way down to your entrance. He teased the hole causing you to grunt slightly. “I know you need me baby.” He says in that cocky tone.

You don’t get a chance to talk before he thrusts a finger inside your tight hole. Your walls were clenching around him and he groaned as how warm you felt. You heard him humming along with the song that was playing in the car. “Aw baby.. you’re still so tight.” He smirked as he slowly moved his finger inside you. Moaning, he added another finger inside of you, curling them as he thrusted faster. You bucked your hips into his fingers, needing and yearning for more. “Fuck, right there!”

“You want my mouth? My tongue licking your clit?” He teased and you eagerly nodded. Your hands rested in his hair as he stuck out his tongue, twisting it in all sorts of ways as he licks your clit. The combination of the two was unimaginable. You loved this feeling.

Your whines and moans got louder as Steve groaned against your pussy. “You’re so sweet.” He whispers before kissing your clit. You’re so close, your thighs were squeezing around his head.. “You’re so close i know you are.” He coos and you moan in agreement. “Steve please. Go faste- Oh fuck!” You whine as his tongue flicks faster, pumping in and out of you even faster. You groan as you buck your hips into his mouth, a knot forming in your stomach as you reach your climax.

You whine as you finish, Steve still licking you, trying to clean you up. “You taste so good..” He mumbled softly against your pussy before placing a kiss on your clit. “Come here.” He growled as he got from your thighs. You giggle and hop up from the seat, sitting in Steve’s lap. He groans, his hands resting on your ass as you kiss him. You can feel him growing hard as you grind yourself on him. You eagerly unbuckle his dress pants, continuing to kiss him.

“Fuck..” You whisper as you slide his pants down, struggling as your hands shake, eager for him and his member. “I want you to fill me up.” You say softly and his eyes widen. Steve smirks at you and lifts you up slightly, your head almost touching the roof of the car, as he tries to pull his dick out from his boxers. You bite your lip at the sight of his hard on.

“Come on baby.. sit on it.” He says in a low tone. You moan softly at his words and you slowly lower yourself onto his cock. You cover your mouth to prevent a loud whine from coming out and Steve moans slightly. He thrusts his hips up without warning, skin slapping against skin. You sob at the veracity, but he keeps going, he wanted this release, he wanted to fill you up. He pounds into you and you bounce slightly, your clit throbbing and juices spilling from your opening as he stretches you out. He groans and pull you closer, nuzzling your head into his shoulder. Your eyes roll back and your jaw drops open into inaudible moans. He chuckles at your trance like state, kissing your neck to calm you down, but there was no calming you down. You were doing anything for a second orgasm.

With one last aggressive thrust and a loud gasp, you bite down on his suit jacket as he finally finishes, his cum spilling into you. He laughs and wraps his large hand behind your head as he lets you rest your head into his shoulder, his other arm around your waist.

“Fuck me.” He panted out of breath. “No more sexual songs baby.” He whispered into your ear as he kissed your cheek ever so gently.

#steve rogers #x reader #smut #fem reader #marvel smut #steve rogers imagine #imagine #x fem reader #marvel #marvel imagine #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #captain america #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine

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writingoddess1125 · 6 months

Text

Modern AU Buggy X Reader- Pt. 2

Modern!Buggy x GN Reader

Fluff and some Sadness! Headcanon

Art belongs to Kokodraw on Twitter!

For just 10 cents a day you can support a hungry Author

• You and Buggy had been going steady for 7 months at this point, and truthfully it had been lovely.

• While Buggy did struggle with his emotions and expressing a healthy love language he did care a lot for you.

• It was rather blissful- That and the Sexy time were hella fantastic between you two.

• Who knew role-playing Pirate Sex was so fun!!

• However of course not everything can be absolutely perfect-

• It all blew up when you meet Shanks, it was purely by accident and at the loathing of Buggy. It had been a popular bar if the area that Buggy wanted to take you there as a special date.

• He had explained the bar was a favorite of his former Guardian and Boss Gol D. Roger. It was a important place for him and he wanted to share it with you.

• Arriving at the bar you two went to get some food in drinks, when the sound of bikers arriving disrupted the peace.

• Laughing and more sounded as the doors opened and the bikers entered. Buggy's face souring as he saw who it was- Shanks and his damn posy.

• "Well I'll be damned! Buggy! How are you doing" The red head announced and came over to Buggy- Of course buggy Biting his head off with Words which Shanks seemed to gladly ignored.

• "Oh and who is this?" Shanks questioned as his eyes landed on you. Buggy's eyes narrowing at this-

• "I'm (Y/N).. Buggys partner" You say politely, Shanks smiling brightly at hearing this.

• You saw Buggy's face scrunch up in anger, practically seething at seeing Shanks who was so happy to meet you.

• "It's lovely to meet you (Y/N), I'm Shanks- Buggy's brother if you will. Same group home and guardian from the past. I never knew Buggy had such magnificent taste" He charmed- For most he was defiently charming and kind. However a peg of sadness hit your heart when you hear 'group home'.. like a foster care? Your eyes traveling to Buggy who looked disarmed and like a protective armor was taken from him.

• Shanks continued his charismatic chatter- You looking to your partner who looked almost afraid and shocked. Shanks reaching his single arm out to place on Buggy's shoulder- clearly to compliment him.

• Buggy quickly pulled his grasp from Shanks quickly, hatred in his eyes that made the red head freeze. Buggy grabbed your hand quickly and pulled you away "We are leaving" He grumbled. Forcing you out of the Bar and back to the car

• Buggy wasn't know to be good with his emotions- So you knew he was either holding it in or about to burst-

• "Buggy.. How do you feel?" You ask, Knowing what was to come next

• "YES IM FUCKING FINE! WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME THAT I-" He stopped himself, his driving slowing down as he clenched the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

• "Pull over right here Bugs" You say softly, He hesitates but does as you ask. Pulling over in a deserted area of the road Buggy parked formally and glared out at nothing.

• You got out of the car and waved Buggy to follow. He did, slamming the car door as he marched to you clearly ready to snap again.

• You hugged him suddently and wrapped your arms around him tightly. "I'm so sorry Buggy... It must have been hard for you to see him again.. I'm sorry"

• You felt Buggy freeze against you, Before you felt his body slack against you and he buried his face into your neck as a sob ripped through him.

• You felt him close as he hugged you tightly and cried against you, Rubbing his back softly as he babbled through his tears.

• 'How Shanks betrayed him'.

'How could Shanks let Roger's legacy die like that'

'How he could abandon him- How his brother left him on his own..'

• The more Buggy cried the more you learned. Buggy had been abandoned as a child- Left in foster care were he met Shanks. The two begins picked up by Roger's and he raised him till he died..

• All of that fear, abandonment and pain being let out in sobs against your shoulder.

• Eventhally he stopped and pulled back enough were you could see the puffiness of his eyes and overall how red he was. Kissing his cheeks gently you ran your hand over the side of his face in comfort

• Leading him back to the car you took his keys and decided to drive yourself.

- The car ride had been silent all the way home. Buggy looking too out of it to care. Deciding it was best to stay the night with Buggy.

Back at his place, you both take showers together this time as Buggy clearly needs the extra love and care so you help him clean up and he tries the same with you. Mainly washing your back so he can lean against you in the shower.

Some comfortable clothes, snacks from the snack stash and laying in bed under the best of blankets. You and Buggy cuddled against each other, The night Seeming to wash away from you both finally.

"Im... I'm sorry I yelled at you" He whispered, his head against your chest as he laid there still and unmoving. Your fingers drawing invisible patters on his skin as you listen.

"I forgive you... I know you were emotionally frustrated" You say softly, earning a amused huff from Buggy at your choice of wording.

"God you sound like a therapist.

"Well I could say Emotionally constipated- You know reeaallly backed up in there needed-" Buggy snorted a laugh and placed his hand over your face to stop you.

"Alright Alright I get it- no shit jokes in bed" He deadpanned and rolled his eyes, You sticking your tongue out and licking his hand earning a noise of disgust from Buggy. "Nothing funnier!-"

"Nasty!" He protested with a laugh and wiped his sloppered hand on the blanket, you laughing as well as the two of you laid there together. The evening lightening up and clearly lifting both your hearts.

"Thank you (Y/N).." He whispered softly, You smiling and kissing the top of his head gently.

"Of course Bugs.."

After this there was moments of silence, you shifting a bit and feeling Buggy stating up at you.

"Buggy.. do you want to talk about it" You asked, He winced slightly at your words and sighed.

"... there isn't much to talk about- I was foster got a good foster parent and worked with him till he died" Buggy said with a sigh, You pausing your fingers for a moment.

"And the guy in the bar?.." You ask softly, Buggy body shifting a bit uncomforble.

"I thought he was my brother... but he abandoned me when I needed him the most.." He said with a sad sigh, his eyes closing.

"I-It hurts to be left you know?.." His voice trembled a little "...To know I wasn't wanted once is gard enough but twice?... T-Thats why I was so worried when we met. Happy I met someone like you but what if you left me too?"

Your heart broke at hearing this and you kissed his head again and pulled him closer.

"Buggy I'd never abandon you, I swear. I love you" You tenderly scoot him up just enough to place a kiss on his lips, Fresh tears in his eyes he returned the kiss. It wasn't sensual or deeply passionate like all the others before- but soft and filled with love...

Pulling back after a few moments you wipe the freh tears from his cheek and feel him lean against your hand in need of affection.

"I love you (Y/N).." He said softly, You heart aching at the sight of the poor man like this. Holding him close like you could shield the world from his bruised heart and kiss him once more.

"I love you too Buggy... More then I can ever express"

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #one piece buggy #modern buggy #captain buggy #buggy #buggy the clown #Buggy x GnReader #x gn reader

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biteofcherry · 11 months

Note

Hi! ALPHA STEVEEEEE oh my actual days. i have an unhealthy attachement to GoT. If his omega was feeling insecure how would he react? I feel like he would be completely flabbergasted and considering how she is very much independent she might not tell him at first. but if he found out...

A study

alpha!Steve Rogers x omega female reader

warnings: none; fluffy hurt/comfort; alpha has unique ways of improving your mood; but there's also understanding and communication; alpha Steve is a warning okay?

Grain of Truth Masterlist

Main Masterlist

"I guess this one could work," you shrugged, watching yourself in the mirror with growing resentment.

Your words reached Steve with quite a delay. He was staring at you, his mind occupied with images of ripping the fabric off of your body to get his hands on the magnificence of your curves and softness.

You looked absolutely fantastic in that dress - and it wasn't even some revealing, super sexy evening gown, but rather a chic, modest piece. Perfect for attending a conference.

And when you first saw that dress on the display as you passed the shop, you seemed to love it. How could it change so quickly?

Steve's gaze dragged up your body until he met your eyes in the mirror.

It was the very first time you showed annoyance with your looks, even if occasionally you fussed about not fitting into your favorite clothes right before the heat, because your body was accumulating fat to survive days of endless fucking.

"What is it?" Steve's brows furrowed as he took a step closer and you felt the warmth of his body at your back.

His hands slipped onto your hips and he rested his chin on top of your head as he held your gaze in the reflection.

"Nothing," you shrugged again, instinctively leaning into your alpha's embrace. "It's a good dress, but it doesn't really matter, right?"

Steve sensed that clearly it did matter, so he waited patiently for you to elaborate.

"I just have one meaningless presentation, nobody will pay attention to it beside just politely listening and clapping after I'm done." You tried to play it cool, like it didn't bother you that there was going to be a different star at the conference.

"Unlike Hope," you muttered, your tone more bitter than you wanted to let on.

Hope was- not exactly a friend, but not an enemy either.

You went to the same university, shared some mutual friends and occasionally worked on the same projects before graduation. Then you pursued your career goals while Hope went on to rock the world with everything that she had.

She was stunning, always had a line of men and women trailing behind her with dreams of spending time with her. She had a brilliant mind, too. Honestly, she had it all, in your opinion.

Including the freedom of not being driven by designation and hormones, since she was a beta.

As it turned out, Hope now had not one but three degrees and steered her career toward medical science for the military purposes. You were proud of how you were actually helping people day to day, running your small research, but it suddenly felt less significant compared to Hope's straight road to saving the world.

When you stumbled into her an hour ago, your brief, quite warm conversation revealed she was going to be the mysterious grand star at the conference you were also attending.

And she too was searching for an outfit. Judging by the label on the bag she was carrying, Hope was going to have something designer. Perhaps even custom fitted.

Then it turned out Steve was familiar with one of her projects; he saw it used in action when back in the military.

They switched feedback and information about Hope's upgrades so flawlessly and passionately, and you just stood there with a smile, nodding your head in pretend-interest.

Hope had it all. Still. Just like she had in uni.

Including attention of your mate.

You knew Steve loved you, you didn't fear him leaving you to chase anyone else. But love didn't mean he was impressed, or interested in your meager career.

The only profit you'd gain from presenting your study at the conference would be Maria's proud face as she added to your clinic's website information about running research acknowledged at international conferences.

"Hope?" One of Steve's eyebrows quirked up, confusion settling on his face. "That beta we ran into?"

"Yes, that beta whose great improvements to the battlefield medicine-" you mocked Steve's voice- "you were complimenting less than an hour ago," you glared at him, barely stopping yourself from stomping on his foot.

"Sweet brat," Steve's hands tightened their grip on your hips, an almost painful reminder to watch your tone.

"I was a Captain in the Army and sometimes on missions things got really bad. I simply appreciate that Hope's projects helped to save lives of some of my men."

"I know her work is important." You grit out, crossing your arms over your chest. "Which is why I know everyone will look forward to her presentation and discussion panel with her. So I don't need to bother stressing over my showing."

Steve recited the full title of your presentation and research, showing you he was always paying attention to what was important to you.

"Hope's work may be desired by the big, important institutions," he said, "but it's your research that has the potential of aiding people nationally, in their day to day struggles."

Your heart melted at the conviction in Steve's voice. Through the bond you sensed a steady rhythm and a flush of fiery pride that your alpha felt about your work.

"And you know what else?" Steve bent down a little, resting his chin in the crook of your neck, his lips brushing your cheek.

"Hope has nothing beyond her career. Beneath the smell of perfume, there's only the scent of the lab on her. No partner, neither long term nor a fuckbuddy. No remnants of anyone familiar, like a friend or a pet."

"Maybe she chose it that way," Steve mused, rubbing soothing circles on your hips with his thumbs, "or maybe she spends the rest of her day being as fussy as you, feeling bitter that she doesn't have a mate and love like you."

You sighed softly, uncrossing your arms. You rested your hands atop Steve's forearms, caressing his warm skin.

You tilted your head slightly as your placated insecurities slowly retreated, living room to the mentioned fussy streak. That still wasn't entirely gone, strumming inside you with a need to act out.

"So you were checking her scent?" It was a deliberate poke, delivered with a glare.

Steve huffed and closed his eyes for a second. Then he straightened and in one swift move twirled you around.

He pushed you back against the mirror, gripping the back of your neck with one of his large hands.

"If you're sporting for a spanking until you sob all your frustration and insecurities out, I will happily arrange it." His voice remained soft, but dropped to that low octave a breath away from a growl.

"Or maybe we can make you more excited on that stage?" You gulped nervously as Steve's eyes darkened.

His lips trailed along your jaw, teeth just barely grazing your skin.

"You'll be giving your lecture wearing nothing but that pretty dress, while I sit in the first row with your panties in my pocket. Knowing that as soon as you're done with your presentation, I'm going to be fucking you full of my cum..."

Steve nipped your chin in reprimand when your eyes closed, the sting making you open them instantly.

"So that when you do the rounds at the banquet later that beta you're jealous off knows that you've won something she'll never have. A true mate."

Your clamped your hands on Steve's shoulders, gripping the fabric of his too tight t-shirt.

"You can't solve everything with sex, you know," you said breathlessly, clenching your thighs as you felt Steve's free hand slide up the pencil skirt of the dress you were trying on.

"How about we conduct a longitudinal study on that?" Steve chuckled and slapped your thigh.

#steve rogers x reader #alpha!steve rogers #alpha!steve rogrs x omega female reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #alpha steve rogers x omega female reader #a/b/o dynamics #grain of truth #my writing

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kidney9-9 · 11 months

Text

Slut Me Out - Steve Rogers

Hi hope you enjoy this smutty piece of Steve and Reader! Thank you for reading :)

Steve Rogers x Reader [Smut] Warnings: Smut, blow job, finger fucking and masturbation Word Count: 3.2k

You giggled quietly to yourself as you connected your phone to the speakers in the car and waited for Steve to get back into the car. He was putting the grocery cart away after you two went shopping. The song you were loading was “Slut Me Out”, by NLE Choppa aka a very dirty song that went viral on TikTok the other day.

You just had to see his reaction to this song. After seeing his reaction to WAP and a few other dirty songs, you had to know what he’d think of this song.

You instantly pressed play once he got into the car, smiling nonchalantly at him as you turned up the volume. Steve grinned back to you, unaware what you were about to do.

“I love this song, just gonna turn it up a little.” You shrugged to him, still smiling as the first lyric played, “Why you being weird to me?”

“Okay, I look forward to hearing it!” He said, still smiling at you as he pulled his seatbelt on and started to back out of the grocery store parking lot. You bit your lip as the next few lyrics played.

“Aye, rip off my shirt if you love me (love me) Spit in my face when you fuck me (fuck me) Play with my gooch, while you suck me (suck me) Eat the dick like you was ugly.”

You silently laughed hard as you stared at Steve’s reaction. At first, he was bopping his head to the music and then he stopped and gripped the wheel tighter, then a confused expression formed on his face. Then it disappeared as he glanced over at you, realizing you were laughing at him.

“Don’t judge me… what’s a gooch?” He spoke up before he cleared his throat and quickly added, “Wait never mind, I don’t want to know, I think.”

“I mean, hold on, wait Where your friend? Bring your buddy (your buddy) I don't think that you enoughie (enoughie) Her favorite thing to say is, "Cuff me.”

The song continued to play in the background as your laughter rose to a volume, “It’s uh, the area between your ass and your dick.” You explained, nodding to him. His expression turned confused again as he started to drive, after he backed out of the parking spot.

“What is it?” You asked, wondering the silent question that’s screaming in his head. He sighed, glancing at you with a weird expression before he let it out.

“How do you play with a gooch?” A nervous laugh rolled out of him before he finished the question. You bit back your laughter as you watched as his hands once again tightened on the steering wheel.

“Pretty sure you just rub it or something.” You tried to describe it with your hands, but you stopped as he sent you a stare. It was that classic Steve glare that made everyone want to laugh, but you held it in for a moment before bursting out.

“Slut me out (out) Slut me out (out) Slut (slut), slut (slut) Slut me out

Rip off my shirt if you love me (sexy) Spit in my face when you fuck me (come sex me) Play with my gooch, while you suck me (don't text me) Eat the dick like you was ugly (don't text me)”

“Baby, please, it’s a joke, don’t look so serious.” You started to laugh, shaking your head at him as he came to a stop light. He let out a sigh of relief, then started laughing with you.

“I thought you really liked this song, and you were playing it to give me a sign or something.” His cheeks were painted red as he thought back to the WAP song and how you introduced it to him.

“Oh, well… I mean, this could be a sign to do something too?” You answered, shrugging softly as you settled a hand over his thigh, the light turning green just then. He was still stopped, eyebrows furrowed down at you when he realized you weren’t joking.

He was silent as he started to really listen to the lyrics. The last time you did this, you two had incredible sex in a kitchen then continued to have sex in the bedroom for another hour or so. He shivered as he remembered the entire day, savoring that memory deeply.

His attention went straight to your hand – when he should be driving – as it continued to creep upwards and dance slowly around his dick. He could feel every muscle and every part of his skin as you glided your hand around the area, and he cursed his pants for being in the way silently.

He also cursed you silently because this was most definitely not the best place to be doing this (but he loved it).

“So, what exactly do you want us to try now?” His question was brimming with excitement and curiosity, wondering what sort of things you wanted to do. He had to admit that he felt a bit old at this moment, but he didn’t really care or give much thought to it since he was a bit distracted.

“Big dick energy, I give it (I give it) Don't believe me, then come feel it (come feel it) Gon' put this here in your kidney, please (please) And hush it like some kidney beans Suck my balls, come chickpea me Why you being weird to me? (Weird to me)

Put your ass in my face 'til I get pink eye Fuck you anywhere, I'm that type guy (that type guy) At the church, on the plane, at the basketball game I don't care, I'ma bust my nut 'til I die ('til I die) What position do I like? All of 'em, baby (Baby) Put it on camera, masturbate to it later (to it later) Ever sucked a vegan dick? Baby, come taste me.”

“Jesus.” He breathed out, absolutely shocked at the lyrics. It was a bit worse than that WAP song. He did not know what to expect the next lyrics to be with this song, compared to WAP. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the comparison, but the chuckle was cut off by a choked surprised noise as you gripped him tightly over his pants.

You paused in your actions, “Is this cool, Steve?” Your use of his name caused him to shudder again. He loved it when you said his name – especially when you moaned it.

“Well, it depends sweetheart, don’t expect there to be no punishment when we get home. You know it’s not good to play in public like this.” He tried his best to sound dominant, knowing you’d enjoy it. You grinned at him, your lips spreading wide with an interested expression.

“Mm, I’m pretty sure I’d enjoy any punishment you give me.” You confessed, giggling when you watched Steve turn to look at you with what seemed like a disapproving stare. Your grip on his clothed dick lightened as you started to move your way to the zipper, undoing it and pressing your fingers up to his underwear opening, guiding two fingers to circle down onto his bare skin.

“I want to do so many things to you. Wanna suck your cock while we’re heading home. Can I pretty please do that?” You asked as politely and innocently as you could and watched as he coughed loudly as you started to rub two fingers up and down on his dick.

“I can barely think when you do that…” He trailed off, head hitting the back of the seat.

“And I want your fingers fucking my pussy, after I suck them wet.” You continued, ignoring his words.

“Baby, please… if you do that I can get into an accident.” He begged slightly, but his hips betrayed him as he started to flex up into your touch. You let your grin widen, happy to see it. His cock was so hard, so ready for you to fuck when you got home.

“Promise that my nut taste like sugar gravy Don't cum quick, I control my bladder (control my bladder) Dick real big, come climb my ladder (my ladder) Fat coochies, little coochies, all coochies matter (they matter)

Ass real fat, I can make it get fatter (fatter) Wanna see a magic trick? Bend over backwards (Over backwards) Meat to meat, wall to wall Coochie to my balls, dawg”

“Insurance will cover it!” You cheered, making him huff out a laugh, shaking his head at your comments. You were being arrogant and ignorant about the fact that he could get into an accident – which he knew could be bad if you two got hurt, or more importantly, you got hurt and he had to watch.

“Not taking that chance, baby.” He sighed, hesitant to say.

“Meanie.” You pouted, a face that made him blush at times. “Fine, then I’ll just give you a hand job.”

He sputtered out something between a laugh and a confusing huff of air. “Is that any different?” His question met with your eyes rolling.

“You and I both know it is.” You replied and he found himself nodding slightly, but adding, “Not when we’re in the car.” He was serious about it, and you sighed but you understood where he was coming from. You didn’t want to get in a car accident, but you trusted his driving skills were decent enough to avoid hitting a car…. But you could play petty.

“Fine, I’ll just fuck myself with my fingers.” You rolled your eyes at him, getting ready to do what you said. Steve sputtered at you, gazing at you incredulously.

“No, you’re not. If you want to be a good girl, you’re not going to do that. You’re going to wait until we get home.” Steve demanded, eyebrows raising at you.

“Ayy, rip off my shirt if you love me (love me) Spit in my face when you fuck me (fuck me) Play with my gooch, while you suck me (suck me) Eat the dick like you was ugly

I mean, hold on, wait Where your friend? Bring your buddy (your buddy) I don't think that you enoughie (enoughie) Her favorite thing to say is, "Cuff me.”

You pouted back at him, “Well… what if I want to be a bad girl right now? Have you cuff me, like the song says?”

“If you do it, you’re not going to be happy in the end, I’m warning you.” He laughed without humor, still watching you.

“Mm, whatever, I’d rather be happy right now with myself then.” Just as soon as you said that Steve gripped the stirring wheel harder as you pulled your pants down by yourself. You gave zero fucks about being in a car, and you had used hand sanitizer already, so you knew you were safe and clean to go ahead and do it.

“I warned you.” Steve let out a disappointed sigh, but he kept looking over you as he drove.

You slid off your panties and grinned to yourself then looked at Steve and winked. Setting a hand over your pussy, you slowly started to rub your clit, making yourself more wet. You let out a moan, mostly to tempt him but also because of how good you were starting to feel.

“Sweetheart…”

You continued your actions despite his words. As you continued to rub at your clit, you started to rub faster and harder while another finger dipped into your pussy, fucking yourself. Your hips started to lift up with each press from your finger, and you added a second finger into your pussy, stretching it out.

“Y/n, on the count of three, you better put your fingers away.” Steve warned, eyes watching you like a hawk. You shook your head at him.

“One, two, three.” He counted, and you continued, grinning even more.

“Screw you Steve, all work, no play.” You sighed out, groaning as you started to reach your orgasm.

“Fuck…” You whispered, rubbing circles into your clit harder and faster, as another finger pushed into your pussy, making it three now.

“That’s it.” Steve said, pulling over the car suddenly, stopping on the dirt. You looked up and around to see you two weren’t exactly home, but in a more secluded place than earlier.

“What are you doing?” You asked, confused at his actions.

“I’m punishing you. Couldn’t wait.” He replied, shrugging at your gaping face. He parked the car and got out, then opened the back door, grabbing a bag of his stuff he’d use for missions. You watched on with a confused face as he put the bag in his seat and opened it up, searching through it.

“What?” You let out.

He grinned as he pulled out the cuffs he uses for missions. You blinked at it and were reminded of what you said earlier. He put the bag away and then got back into the car, with his cuffs in his hands.

“Hands up.” He demanded, and you slowly took your hand off your pussy and put it up next to your other hand. He hooked the cuffs around the holder on top of the ceiling of the car, above the window, and cuffed one hand on one side, and the other hand on the other side, trapping you. You tried to move your hands around, but you couldn’t, especially as Steve looked underneath your seat and set your seat all the way back, laying it flat.

“You wanted me to slut you out, right? That’s what you want, huh?” He questioned.

“Slut me out (out) Slut me out (out) Slut (slut), slut (slut) Slut me out”

You hesitantly replied with, “Uhm, yeah…”. Steve grinned back at you, “Then here it is.”

You were nervous, Steve was never like this. He always warned you about how you were acting but he never really punished you. Or if he did, the punishments always ended in a good way.

“Come on, Steve… this is a little crazy for you.” You laughed nervously.

“Is it? Or did you just push me to the edge?” He questioned back. He raised his eyebrows at you as if to silently answer his own question.

He put his car seat all the way back too, then got closer to you and sighed. “You really push my buttons all the time. And now with this song, you’re trying to tell me you want to change up our sex lives again, like before.”

“But this time, you don’t get a say, got it? All you do say is a color – red, yellow, or green to tell me to continue or to stop.” He continued.

“Steve, what?” You let out a surprised laugh, but you were definitely welcoming what he was doing.

“Is this, okay?” He asked, “Before I go off the edge, is this, okay?”

“Yes, of course it’s okay.” You responded.

He gave you a smile and then continued his actions. He got closer to you and kissed your lips gently before pulling away and sighing again. He licked his lips as he glanced down to your exposed pussy. He moved his hands down to your thighs and started to massage them.

You shifted your hips, trying to get closer to his hands, but he didn’t let you as he sent you a glare. You gulped in your spot, stopping your movements.

He continued to massage your thighs, slowly getting closer to your pussy but not touching it directly. Then he stopped and pulled out his dick, showing how hard he was. Your eyes widened in surprise, as you didn’t think he even cared earlier, let alone get hard.

He started to jerk himself off for a few moments before he glanced over at you with a smirk, “Suck it.” He demanded, and you nodded quickly but as you tried to move forward, you couldn’t move all the way since your hands were trapped.

He chuckled as you struggled and got up, scooting closer to you in the car with him on his knees, bending slightly for you to suck his dick.

You finally could lean forward enough to suck his hard on. You wrapped your lips around his tip, playing with it with your tongue as you scooted closer and pushed your mouth all the way down his cock, throat tightening as you gagged, feeling his skin hit your lips.

“Finally acting like a good girl, huh? Color?” He asked, pulling your head away from his cock.

“Green, fucking green.” You repeated with a huff, before he smiled down at you and grabbed the back of your head and shoved himself down your throat again, fucking you.

“Ahm,” You grunted against his cock, making him groan down at you.

You licked as much as you could, but he started to face fuck you, dragging you by your hair, up and down his cock.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He moaned, holding you in place as his cock was at the bottom of your throat. You struggled again, and hummed against him, causing him to groan again, “I’m coming, fuck Y/n…”

He held you in place still, causing you to swallow up all of his cum. You gulped it all up, unable to taste it because it was down your throat.

He pulled away after he finished coming, and he groaned as he pulled himself out of you.

“Good fucking girl. I’m so lucky you’re acting good now, no more bad girl huh?” He said, chuckling as you rolled your eyes at him.

“Let me touch myself.” You insisted, grunting as you tried to shift your legs together, trying to get some friction.

“No. Don’t ask again. You’ll take what I give you. If I give you my cock, you take it. Got it?” He responded seriously, making you gulp again. “Color?”

“Green…” You trailed off, wondering what he was going to do next.

“Good.” He spoke. “Open your mouth.”

You complied after a second, watching as he dragged his fingers up and into your mouth. You automatically closed your mouth around them, sucking them and licking them.

He grinned at you and took his fingers out of his mouth. He moved them back down to your thighs and went down to your pussy, teasing you slightly by lightly moving his fingers across your pussy.

He dipped a finger down into your pussy, watching you gasp at him. “Steve…more.” You whined, grinding down onto his hand. He pulled away instantly and shook his head.

“No. Don’t move.” He spoke up.

“Ah, fuck please, Steve!” You groaned, pushing your head back.

He only continued when you stopped moving and you did your best not to move when he added another finger and you whimpered slightly, shutting your eyes. You were so close to your orgasm just from his fingers, you just very slightly moved and then paused – hoping he didn’t catch that.

“Mm, good.” He commented. “But not good enough.” He spoke as he pulled away his fingers.

“Steve. Please!” You begged, squeezing your thighs together to try to bring you to your finish, but you couldn’t.

“Nope, that’s what you get.” He laughed, then started the car and pulled back up onto the road. You stared at him, gaping as he continued to drive like nothing just happened.

“Steve!” You yelped, “I’m still handcuffed!”

“Oh well, that’s what sluts get.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #marvel smut

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