#Steve Rogers au
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Is there a version of Bucky or Steve you'd like to write, but haven't? Love your fics!
Thank you! And you know what, lovely anon? I would love to write an AU where Steve falls from the train and becomes the Winter Soldier or Captain Hydra and Bucky takes over as Captain America/Nomad.
Friend sent the image above and credit goes to DeviantArt user MizuriAU.
I would have a lot of fun with that. ❤️ One day! Thanks for the ask, love and happy reading. ❤️
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dumb ficbunny: Bucky bigging himself up with Extremely Mild self-hype like 'hey, I could totally be a model if I wanted - y'know, like a catalogue model, part-time. Easily' not realising how far he's missing the mark, and it makes Steve go absolutely Feral
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Steve Rogers x GN!Reader
“What’ve you planned for tonight?” Nat asks from beside you, as she leans over the couch. That’s her polite way of asking what movie you’ve picked out.
“Clueless.” You reply, gesturing to the TV where the movie is about to play. She tilts her head at you, recognising one of your comfort movies.
“Bad week?” You shrug.
“Not particularly, just need something easy to watch you know?” She nods,
“You know, Steve’s not busy tonight.”
“You could invite him to join you. He turned down drinks with me and Clint.”
“I can’t think why.”
“Ouch!” You hear Clint exclaim, clutching his chest in mock pain.
“Steve’s down in the gym, if you change your mind.” You nod, beginning to think it over.
“Thanks Nat. You two have fun. And try not to break too many laws, okay?” They laugh and say their goodbyes. Once they’re gone your finger hovers over the play button. Steve wouldn’t want to join you would he? You sigh. Well, there’s only one way to find out. If you ask him very casually it won’t be too disappointing if he turns you down. You decide to head to the gym. Most of the lights are off already, and there’s not a person in sight. That is except for one. Steve. He’s thumping away at a punching bag. You make your way over to him, leaning against the wall once you reach his eye line. You give him a small wave, which he notices. He stops his assault on the bag, wiping some sweat from his brow and offers you a gentle,
“Yeah I’m good. You?” He nods,
“Yeah, just trying to unwind.”
“Well I hate to tell you this, but working out is not unwinding.” He chuckles,
“I find it relaxing.”
“Relaxing?” You shake your head. He glances behind you.
“Where’s Nat and Clint?”
“They’ve gone out for drinks, they’ll probably be back around five in the morning with a police escort in tow.” You both laugh.
“That not your scene?” He asks. You shrug, wrinkling your nose,
“Never has been really. You?”
“Well, alcohol doesn’t really work on me, so...”
“You’d just be watching Clint and Nat look like idiots.”
“Yeah, and as fun as that sounds...”
“Not your idea of a fun time?” You finish, and he nods. “That’s why I’m here, actually. You see, I was wondering. Well, I was just going to watch a movie, and I guess I was wondering if you’d want to join me?” Steve gives you a soft smile.
“I’d love to.”
“Really?” He nods, and you beam at him. You both head up to the apartment together.
And that is the beginning of Steve and [Y/N]’s weekly movie night.
General Tagslist: @greeneyedblondie44 @morganwilliams
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I wonder if masks have made it easier for Bucky to tease/edge the reader in public. She doesn’t have to worry as much about keeping her face looking calm while he’s got a vibe on her or is stroking her clit or etc
Pairing: TFAWS Bucky x Reader
Drabble. Dont copy these, repost or rewrite them. Minors DNI. Public Sex, Bucky being a tease. two surprise guests. Toys, dom/sub vibes
Bucky loves online shopping because you can buy anything with a few clicks now. Including the remote-controlled vibe, he placed inside your pussy before the both of you left the house. You're wearing a custom-made version of his WS mask so only your eyes are visible.
You are on edge waiting for him to turn it. But only gives you sweet smiles and soft glances, holding your hand as you walk to the park.
Bucky sits down on a little bench tucked away in a secluded corner, surrounded by tall trees and bushes. He places your legs over his thighs and you see him take the remote out.
Bucky loves to tease so he tosses it hand to hand while your breath quickens in pure anticipation. Your eyes following the small device going between his vibranium hand to his gloved one.
You can't take another second of this, not with the base of the toy stretching your sopping walls, the curved edged sitting right on your clit.
You turn your head, your lips parting in a plea. "Buck-oh oh my god." you gasp, your head dropping back as he turns the vibe on. Small pulses of sensations rock through your pussy. You moan-loud-when he turns it up a notch.
Bucky smirks, running his tongue over his teeth. "Hey doll, you might wanna keep it down before Sam and Steve hear you."
"Huh?" you mumble, trying to focus as the vibe pulsates.
Bucky raises his hand. "Over here."
Craning your head, your eyes widen, almost bulging out when you see Sam and Steve jogging to you. "You son of -ah oh fuck," you hiss, scrambling off his lap and onto the bench beside him. You cross your ankles, hoping to hide the tremor in your legs as another wave of pleasure sparks in you.
Buck continues to smirk, placing his arm around your shoulder. You glare at him as he greets the guys. You nod, pretending to cough when they say hello to you. Chewing your lip, you're doing everything you can to not moan as the coil winds tighter and tighter in your belly.
You can't speak because you know, you just know, by the devilish gleam in Bucky's blue eyes that he's waiting for you to open your mouth.
Bucky places his hand on your leg, his body turned to his friends as they talk. He wedges the remote between your thighs, you can't believe the audacity of him. Another hot pulse of sensations surge through you and you clamp down on the whimper clawing up your throat.
You vaguely hear the guys laughing and talking, your brain focused on that little tiny device. You shift your thighs, a wave slick dripping down to the bench below you as the coil gets a little tighter.
Taking a deep breath, you grab the edge of the remote. Without missing a beat or even turning his head in your direction, Bucky snatches it from you and spins the dial.
Pure electricity shoots up your spine and your body locks up, your hand digging into Bucky's leather jacket, the other wrapped around the warm wooden bench. A grunt spilling out from your lips as the vibe pulses, thrusts, pulses, and- oh god fuck fuck. The coil snapping loose as you cum so hard you nearly scream.
"You okay?" Steve asks with concern.
You swing your glazed eyes over and nod. Bucky scrunches his nose at you. "Yeah, she's going to be just fine."
He leans to the side, his soft lips brushing over your ear. "You were really good, plum but you know what happens to naughty girls who touch things that don't belong to them."
The bench creaks and groans as they all stand up and surround you.
Bucky tilts his head, slipping your mask off. "Tell the guys what happens when you misbehave."
You shiver as Steve pulls your head back and Sam kneels before you, spreading your legs.
"I-I get punished." You quickly hide your smile when Bucky tsks.
Steve pulls down your bottom lip. "You're going to feel your punishment for days, little plum."
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salvatore. | vii.
summary. | Bucky Barnes doesn’t believe in love anymore. Especially after the tragic, unknown death of his wife, Natasha. He thinks it’s stupid and a waste of time and- oh my. Hello there, you. There you were, with your notebooks and your novels, writing your heart away. He’s hellbent on saving you from this nasty world, his elusive neighbor that has him under the stupid spell of love. You soon find yourself trapped in a tragic love story with Bluebeard, not Prince Charming.
warnings. | NONCON/DUBCON, dark themes, manipulation, gaslighting, arguments, toxic relationships (reader and steve), cheating, nightmares, violence, mentions of death/murder, spying, voyeurism, stalking, use of cameras, angst, fluff, dark!bucky, protectiveness, obsessiveness, creepy bucky, perversion, kidnapping, choking (not the kinky kind), passing out, suffocation, and more. 18+, MINORS DNI.
word count. | 3.4k
pairings. | Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Steve Rogers.
a/n. | we’re nearing the end!! please read all the warnings before you click the ‘keep reading’ button! don’t forget to enjoy and don’t forget to reblog! salvatore masterlist.
“I’ll be back before you know it, doll, don’t worry. I’ll call you and text you nonstop, okay?” Bucky reassured, pecking your lips between each word of his. You pulled further away from him and laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Where are you going, again?” you asked, hating yourself for forgetting so easily. It was almost like he never even told you. “That bachelor party, remember? For my friend Sam?” he repeated, almost as if he had told you billions of times before.
Truth be told, you didn’t remember.
“Oh, that’s right! Okay, baby, have a good trip and stay safe. Tell your friend Sam I said congratulations––wait, you have a friend named Sam?” you questioned, not knowing of this friend. You may have been quite forgetful but you didn’t recall him speaking of any friend by the name of Sam. “Yep, but I don’t talk about him too much,” Bucky informed, and you tilted your head. You opened your mouth to ask him another question, but he checked the time on his wrist before sharply inhaling.
“Gotta go now, doll, don’t want to be too late,” he told you, kissing you once more. “Love you, bye!” he shouted as he closed the door behind him. “Bye!” you called back, and you were left all by yourself in his home. He already gave you a tour a week ago, the day after he spoke to you about your nightmare. You never slept after that, but it wasn’t shocking. That kiss was everything you could’ve ever dreamt of.
You felt like Sleeping Beauty, finally getting that kiss from Prince Charming that you needed so badly. You sighed with a half-smile on your face, and you could already feel boredom settling into your bones. With Bucky, every second of the day was filled with fun. Whether it be through stupid conversations or through needless movie commentary. You hadn’t written in all that time, and it was just a tad bit upsetting for you.
Your notebook was untouched, and so was your nice fountain pen along with your computer. It wasn’t like you had writer’s block, and it wasn’t like you had no motivation to finish your first chapter… No, wait, it was exactly like that. Every time you thought of your story, you’d have to stifle a loud, loud groan that would be savoured for when you stub your toe or when you’d accidentally burn your hand on the stove.
You didn’t resent your story. It just felt like a burden at that point in your life. But with nothing else to do other than writing, you felt oh so pained. Not physical pain, no, just the kind that would be a burden. You were sure that the floorboards were tired of feeling your feet stomp on them throughout most days. Sometimes, you’d sit on the stairs and hum to yourself—some sort of random rhythm that you would then mess up and forget about.
“What to do, what to do, what to do…” you whispered to yourself, hooking your thumbs through the loops of your jeans. If it weren’t for Bucky and his easily distracted behaviour, you could’ve had a belt there. But mistakes were made, and even though you offered to help, you officially knew then that Bucky never wanted you in his basement. Not in the past, not in the present, and definitely not in the future.
You joked around, saying that he just has dead bodies buried behind the shelves that were covered in cobwebs. But his forced chuckle had you apologizing quickly, and he told you to go drink some water and throw out your energy drink. You did exactly that, and he was back to his happy self. Spewing stupid puns like hilarity was his college major, with a big silly grin on his face.
Steve was always stoic, so maybe that was why you weren’t used to the almost overwhelming (yet lovely) company of Bucky.
Though Bucky spoke most hours of the day, you never heard of this man named ‘Sam.’ You had hung onto every single word of Bucky’s whenever he spoke to you. Even if he was repeating himself most of the time, you still made sure to listen to everything. He had never spoken about his friend to you, ever. As a matter of fact, you didn’t know much about him personally. You knew bits and pieces about his life as a soldier, but you didn’t know anything else.
He had no family pictures, no childhood stories, no generation-old recipes, nothing. Absolutely nothing. It weirded you out because he knew every bit about you. Even things that you’d never tell your mother, even if you had to. You didn’t even know about any past girlfriends of his… Except for one. He’d call her by the name of ‘Natalia’ but only when cursing or spewing out on the grave swears that could have someone rolling even if they didn’t decay yet.
Only a man with something to hide wouldn’t tell you anything about him, right? Because that was what Steve did, and he had one too many things hidden from you.
You spun around, making a full beeline for the stairs that didn’t creak under your feet (unlike your staircase). You envied Bucky for that, but you also envied him for more practical, more reasonable things. Such as the way he just couldn’t fall for pranks easily or the way he’d get something right almost all the time. You gripped the railing tightly, careful not to fall as you were climbing up the steps as quickly as you could.
Cardio wasn’t really your thing, not then, at least. You preferred simple stretches and long walks. Maybe the occasional weight lifting, but your little coloured dumbbells never did much. You were faced with the first bedroom at the top of the stairs. It was a guest bedroom, and he told you that it was pointless to go inside and clean it. At the time, it made sense. But maybe he was just trying to avoid having you go in there and see something you shouldn’t have seen.
You exhaled shakily and pushed the door open. You were met with a gust of cool air only because the window was left open. Bucky did that a lot, only because his home would become predominantly more humid than usual. You didn’t search the drawers or anything else in that room as well as the other guest bedrooms because you knew you’d find nothing in there.
There was only one bedroom left to check, the one that you and Bucky shared. It was a work in progress. Not in the sense that you were renovating or something along those lines. It was a bit… bland, to say the least. Not one piece of that room felt like home. You asked Bucky if he had any mementos or paintings to keep, but he shook his head and walked out. He wasn’t a very personal man, and it had more flaws than perfections.
You turned the doorknob and walked inside, taking in the notes of that vanilla body spray that Bucky loved so much and the lingering scent of his aftershave. You went to his bed and lifted the fluffy mattress up. Nothing. You gently placed it back down, hoping that your muscles wouldn’t give out. You opened up some of the bedside drawers, and you even peaked underneath them. Nothing. You let out a groan that was also a sigh of relief.
You weren’t sure if you wanted to find something bad or if you wanted to find nothing at all.
You slowly brought yourself up to your feet. You strode a few steps over to the closet and slid the mirror door to the other side. Half of the closet was filled with your clothes, and the other half was filled with his clothes. He had more leather jackets and sweaters than anything. Steve had the opposite of that problem. The blond hero loved his white tank tops and his white t-shirts. The dryer would constantly shrink them, and you could never complain about that.
Neither could Natasha.
You ran your hands between all the pockets and fabric in your closet, but you didn’t find anything. You snapped your hands back, bringing some hangers down to the ground. “Fuck,” you gritted out, looking down at the mess. You wordlessly kept staring at it, all while flailing your arm around to find the door. You grabbed it and slid it close. You had more pressing matters to deal with.
You didn’t check the dresser because you’d know if Bucky ever touched it. Your next best bet was to check the bathroom, even if it might’ve been fruitless. You searched the cupboards underneath and above the sink. Still, you only found freshly purchased products that you would find yourself stocking up on at least once a month—pads, tampons, shampoo, conditioner, razors, and everything else you needed, not him. Nothing there belonged to Bucky.
You once again didn’t know whether you should be elated or frustrated.
You dragged yourself out of the bathroom and out of the bedroom. You wore a pout on your face, resembling a little spoiled kid in a candy shop. In the hallway, you were at a crossroads. “Goddammit,” you groaned, squeezing your hands into fists. You walked down the stairs, not even bothering to hold onto the railing or the wall. You always loved to run your hand against the wall, especially when you were descending down the stairs.
You knew that he was too smart to hide anything in the living room and the kitchen. You felt like you were losing your mind. Even though you couldn’t find anything, you knew Bucky was hiding something from you. It was the same gut feeling that you had when you were with Steve. You listened to it, and you were right. Therefore, you believed that you were right about Bucky being secretive.
You stood at the bottom of the stairs, with your hands on your hips and your bottom lip between your teeth. You didn’t know where else to check. The garden seemed idiotic, and none of Bucky’s floorboards creaked in a peculiar manner. No can or jar in his cabinets looked off, and his shelves didn’t seem like they could move. His stack of books about the human mind didn’t seem fake either.
You spun in a circle, and so did your mind. Everything merged into a colourful blur, and you nearly missed the large splash of white that suddenly intruded into your vision. You stopped moving and looked over just to see the door to the basement. The door was never opened, even when Bucky was downstairs doing the laundry. You smiled to yourself. It was perfect, and it made so much sense for him to hide something in there.
The airport was loud. Families and couples yelling at each other and the sound of suitcase wheels against the floor. A lovely voice came on the intercom, announcing a flight that was departing. From New York to some city in Arizona. In Bucky's hands were his passport, his ticket, and his backpack. Bucky wasn’t sitting in one of those enormously uncomfortable chairs that everyone else was.
He was meters away from the waiting area, contemplating whether the trip was a good idea or not. He didn’t need to be plagued with guilt by what happened to Natalia. He was doing much better now that she was gone. The gothic house probably needed to be cleared of cobwebs and creepy crawlers, but he could’ve just hired someone for that. The only reason why he was contemplating his trip was because of you.
You seemed to eat up every lie he spewed since he met you, but you didn’t appear to buy his cover-up for the flight. Bucky never felt bad about lying to you because you needed to be protected. You were bawling in your bedroom about your job, taking insults from your mother and getting carelessly drunk with a stranger just before he thoroughly swept in on his white horse. You needed him; you always did.
Bucky knew that you’d let your paranoia and suspicions get the best of you. He was glad you allowed that to happen with Steve, but he wasn’t going to let it fly when it came down to himself. “Fuck,” he grumbled before turning on his heels and making his way out of the area and out of the airport. He had to protect you from the harsh truth, only because he’s your knight in shining armour.
You didn’t grab ahold of the railing because it was made of wood. Splinters were the worst; you simply just loathed them like anybody else. You placed your hand against the wall for support and tried your hardest to not make too much noise. Basements always gave you the creeps. The air in the room was thick and heavy, week-old vapour stuck in there, and you wondered how the wood hadn’t begun to rot yet.
Your fingers clashed with what seemed to feel like a light switch. You were at the bottom of the stairs, an old carpet resting beneath your feet to protect you from the cold floor. Your nose was filled with the scent of different detergents and softeners that Bucky would use. Against the wall were the washing machine and the dryer. Next to the dryer was a small, worn-down sink. It was clearly stained and dirty, and you wondered how old the house was.
In the corner was a little wire deck shelf. On it were boxes and many other random objects. You managed to push yourself into the small space that was between the washing machine and the rack. You grabbed the first and the only box on the highest level, surprised that it was lighter than it seemed. You looked inside, only to find old leather gloves and a first aid kit. The white of the kit had a bit of dried blood on it, and the gloves were creased.
You grimaced, but you figured that they were from before he retired. You put the box back and reached for the other one that was two levels down from the top. It was much heavier than the previous one, and you were scared that you would drop it. You peered into the box and found a sleek black gun. Your eyes widened, and you nearly let go of the six faces of cardboard.
But it also made sense for him to own a gun. You didn’t want to think of the possible reasons to scare yourself, so you pretended as if you didn’t see it and put it back. The rest of the shelf just had little old objects that seemed like they came from a thrift store or a pawn shop. One was a small porcelain deer in a pink skirt with glitter on its spots. It made you smile; of course, Bucky would have something like that. The deer’s bright doe eyes looked up at you, but they seemed more sad than anything else.
Though you marvelled at the statue at first, it eventually made you feel uneasy. You tore your eyes away from it and slowly made your way out of the cramped space. You didn’t know where else to look, and your gut feeling didn’t seem to go away. Though the lightbulb was turned on, the room was still dark. The area next to the staircase was particularly shadowed, and your stomach dropped just a bit as you stared at it.
You swallowed thickly and nervously, but you were also elated at the fact that you finally found somewhere worthy of checking. You stepped into the darkness, and you pulled your phone out of the pocket of your jeans. You turned the flashlight feature on and shined the light throughout the space. The ground was barren, and so were the walls. Dust covered them, though.
You rested your off-hand against the side of the staircase, sighing to yourself before realizing that there was a space underneath the stairs. You bent down and shone the light there, moving it around to try and find something. When that was of no help, you stretched the hand that was on the stairs to try and feel for something, anything. Your digits brushed up against what felt like a shoebox. Your heart jumped, and you fumbled around trying to grab it.
You dragged the box out from the staircase while you bit your bottom lip. You sat down on the dirty floor, and you hesitated in opening up the box. You wondered if it was best to let sleeping dogs lie, to just ignore your intuition and to trust Bucky. But you knew better than that. You really did. Your shaky hand lifted the top of the box, and you set it down on the ground.
You pointed your flashlight inside the box, and you gasped loudly. It was filled to the top with different things that were oh so familiar. Maybe it was because they belonged to you. A pair of pink panties that you thought your washing machine ate was at the top. You took them out of the box just to find a few old notebooks of yours. You believed they were under your bed, but it seemed to be otherwise.
A few lipsticks and a hairbrush were there, too. You didn’t recall them being missing, and you certainly didn’t remember giving them to Bucky because you never did. You dug everything of yours out of the box. Polaroids, more panties, jewelry, polaroids of yourself and your body, as well as much more. At the bottom was a bunch of folded papers in a Ziploc bag.
You pushed the square slider at the top to open the bag, and you pulled out the papers. You opened them up just to be faced with a file detailing almost everything about you. There were pictures of you around your house, at work and doing other things. One was of you showering, and you felt sick to your stomach. You didn’t know whether you should cry, call someone, or be angry.
But what you did know was that you needed to get as far away from Bucky as possible. You quickly shoved everything back into the box, and you put the lid back on. You grabbed it and placed it under your arm before trying to stand up. You unlocked your phone and searched through the screen for the Phone app. You needed to call your mom, maybe ask her if you could stay with her for a bit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you panicked, not being able to find her contact.
You turned around and managed to click on her name, and you began to make your way up the stairs. You clicked the call button and put the phone on speaker. You listened closely as it rang, and you waited for the ‘ringing’ to turn into a timer. But you didn’t look where you were going, which is why you let out a scream as you bumped into something. No, someone.
You looked up slowly, just to see Bucky staring at you. His face was filled with hurt, and you heard his metal arm whir as he clenched his fist. “Where do you think you’re going, doll?” he asked innocently, smiling at you. “Uhm, I- I was just going to go eat lunch!” you lied to him. Your voice was shaky, and so was your entire body. You felt nauseous, and your legs felt as if they were going to give out.
“Good, I’m glad you’re going to eat lunch. It’s important to have all your meals, y’know. But do you really need to go through my things and steal, too?” Bucky questioned, taking a step towards you. “Please let me go, Bucky. I won’t tell anyone!” you promised, ready to sob and beg to him. He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “No can do, doll. Can’t let my best girl go,” he exasperatedly explained to you, almost as if you didn’t learn about his stalking ways.
His hand came up to your face, and he stroked your cheek. The metal felt weird against your sweating skin. He moved his hand own to your neck, and he suddenly wrapped his fingers around your throat. You dropped your phone and the box, and you wrapped your hands around his wrist. “Shh, it’s okay, you just need to take a quick break from reality. That’s all,” Bucky cooed, and you found yourself struggling to breathe. Your vision began to darken, and you eventually passed out in his arms.
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Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Steve Rogers
Summary: Bucky dishes out some punishment and Steve is in his corner.
Word Count: Over 1.9k
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, edging, oral sex (f receiving), possessive behavior, slight D/s theme, tattooed Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers (they’re warnings, okay?)
A/N: Another part of my Howling Commandos Tattoo AU! I will not say when this falls in the timeline for now and I am not taking requests, but I couldn’t resist this ask! Beta read by the wonderful @sparkledfirecracker, but any and all mistakes are my own. Thank you, lovely! Banner created by yours truly, but Bucky and Steve photos were provided by the talented @nix-akimbo! This AU wouldn’t exist without them. And divider by the beautiful @firefly-graphics! Comments, asks, likes and reblogs are appreciated!
I have discontinued my tag list. Please follow my sideblog @navybrat817-sideblog and turn on notifications to see new fics! I will only post fics, writing schedule and updates there.
I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere but here or archiveofourown under my same username, it has been reposted without my permission. 18+ Please!!! By reading this, you agree that you are at least 18 years old. Enjoy, lovelies!
You were going to kill Bucky. At the very least, torture him. You had no clue how because you couldn't think with his mouth playing you like a song on repeat. He told you once that he could eat you out for hours and he was making good on that promise. Both of your boyfriends were champion pussy eaters and you thanked the heavens above for your blessings. Until today.
You lost track of how long he had been between your legs, stopping occasionally to give you water and wipe the sweat off your forehead. He also checked your binds, making sure they didn't hurt your wrists. It was a sweet contrast to the delicious torment he inflicted on you. And you would have been more than fine with that if he let. You. Come.
"Fuck, doll. Told you I could eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner," he said, his voice low and husky as his breath hit your folds. You wanted to twist your fingers in his hair, unsure if you wanted to push him away or pull him closer. "But my cock is greedy for your hole, too."
"Then fuck me!" you whined.
"Not yet. I'm still hungry."
He gently circled your oversensitive clit with the tip of his tongue, groaning as he licked along your glistening lips moments later. He pushed two fingers deep inside you, plunging and curling to the point where your toes began to curl. You felt like you were trying to balance on a tightrope, but each time you got to the end you had to start over.
"Please. Fuck, please!" you begged when he slipped his fingers out, feeling how wet they were as he placed them on your trembling thigh.
"Still so wet for me, doll. You really do have the most amazing pussy."
"If it's so amazing, why won't you let me come?!" you snapped, blinking the tears from your eyes.
"You know why," he chastised, chuckling when you did your best to glare at him. "You may growl like a tiger, but you bite like a kitten. What's your word?"
The smallest smile touched your lips when concern slipped into his voice. He was good about checking in. "Green."
"Good girl," he whispered as he dipped his head back down.
He held your thighs apart so tenderly and possessively as his tongue lapped and swirled in soft caresses. Your entire frame shook as desire rolled off of you in waves, a hot, writhing mess as he continued to play with your cunt. The colors of his tattoos seemed even brighter as you looked down at him, crying out when he suddenly stopped again. His face almost had a glow to it as he smirked up at you.
"You want it so bad when all you had to do was be good," he scolded, sucking on your hard nub as your mouth fell open. He managed to do it slowly enough that the coil inside you wound tighter. How did it not snap?!
"I am good!" you argued.
"How long have you been at it?"
Your head turned toward the open door, amusement in Steve's eyes as he lazily leaned against the frame. You were going to torture him, too, for standing there and not helping. Once you got your bearings and came up with a plan.
"Hours," came the muffled reply of the brunette.
"Have you let her come?"
"No. Not once," Bucky replied, sounding pained.
"What did you do, sweetheart?"
You looked over at the blonde innocently. Too innocently. "Nothing!" you yelped when Bucky squeezed your thigh.
"Uh uh. What did we say about communication?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Fuck! Fine! I skipped lunch...and… breakfast?"
The blonde no longer looked amused as he slowly walked over to the bed, ignoring the slurps of Bucky lavishing on your twitching hole. "What do you mean you skipped lunch and breakfast?"
You shrank back at his thunderous gaze. You already received that same look from the brunette after he found out you skipped a meal. Your boyfriends hated the thought of you not taking care of yourself or not being cared for. And you felt guilty. "Work was...Oh, fuck! Busy!"
The bed dipped as Steve sat down, pressing a kiss to your warm forehead. "Work will always be there. You put yourself first," he whispered as you closed your eyes. You were still working on that. "Did he feed you?"
You hiccupped a bit, the pleasure you were so close to reaching just out of your grasp. "Yes."
"Mmm. She ate every bite before I tied her up," Bucky promised, giving you no reprieve as he held you down.
"Good girl," Steve whispered, moving his mouth to yours. As his tongue slipped past your parted lips, he somehow moved it in sync with Bucky's and you felt yourself tighten as you let your men devour you.
But just as you reached the edge, everything stopped. It. Fucking. Stopped. You wrenched your face away from Steve's with a frustrated moan. “You. Fucking. Bastard."
Tears must have slipped out because you felt fingertips brush them away from your cheeks, even as both of them smiled at you. "Color?" Steve asked.
"Green! It is so fucking green!" you swore, your chest heaving. How much longer would they make you suffer?
"It really is cute when you swear. C'mon, Buck. Give her your cock. I think she more than earned it."
Bucky made a gruff sound as he stood up, fisting himself as he took in the sight of you. You knew it had to be agony for him, too, to not be inside you the moment he had you bound. "You look ruined, doll."
"Ruin her some more."
You nearly sobbed in relief when his cock pressed against your entrance. You couldn't even push your hips forward to take him in, but he didn't make you wait as he slid inside you. The only sound you could let out was a whimper as he stole your breath.
His thickness stretched you to the limit as he hammered into you, his eyes not leaving yours. Your walls selfishly tried to keep him there when Steve leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth. You could only take so much as Bucky continued to bury himself in you over and over.
"There you go,” Steve said softly, brushing his thumb over the other nipple. Even those felt more sensitive to the touch. “Bet you won't skip a meal again. You know that makes us worry.”
“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, even though Bucky should have also apologized for edging the shit out of you. Edging drove you crazy when you didn't plan it in advance… which is exactly why he did it. What good was a punishment if you enjoyed it from start to finish?
“I’ll bet you are,” Steve breathed out, feeling him smirk as he went back to gently sucking on the hard peak.
You didn’t bother coming up with a retort, instead making sounds of unrestrained pleasure. It didn’t matter how obscene you sounded as long as Bucky kept snapping his hips. It felt like he was trying to fuck you within an inch of your life. He owed you that.
“I know, doll. I know,” Bucky said, a touch of sympathy mixed with his lust. “But it’s going to feel good when you come all over my cock.”
Steve turned his head away for a split second to give your aching nipple a break, his beard scraping along your skin. “Fuck, she really did leave some shine all over your face.”
“And the sheet,” Bucky said smugly.
“Fucking. Tattooed. Bastards,” you gasped, more than ready to break.
“You love us,” Bucky said, his eyes intense as you moaned in response. “Just like you love feeling us wreck your tight, pretty pussy.”
“Yes!” you cried, hearing both men moan as you began to shake all over again. “Just let me come, please!”
Steve reached down, circling his finger along your clit. He barely touched it and you still felt like you were on fire. “Think she’s really sorry?”
You struggled to keep it together, gritting your teeth as you felt that rising bliss. “I am sorry… that I worried you. Please.”
For a second, you thought Bucky would pull back and stop again… until he slammed into you so hard you screamed. It’s like he was determined to fuck into your mind that you were their girl and that meant being cared for… by them and yourself. Feeling him pound into your desperate pussy, your walls began to spasm. Spirals of ecstasy began to spread as tears fell.
“Bucky. Steve, please,” you begged as Steve’s finger circled your clit again.
Bucky took pity on you as his gaze went soft. “Come.”
The command was undeniable, tightening around the cock inside you as you finally climaxed. You thought you sobbed out “thank you” as you got lost in the haze, but you couldn’t be sure. Clamping down as his thrusts increased, you still felt every drag along your slick walls. You rode out the feeling of complete satisfaction and you took everything. Because you were their best girl and you were made to.
“Jesus, fuck, that’s gorgeous,” Steve groaned.
Bucky thrusts a few more times before letting out one of the deepest, sexiest growls you ever had the pleasure of hearing. Considering there were days you couldn’t keep either one of them from having you, that said something. Feeling him flood your insides as he shoved himself deep was a feeling you would never get over. It felt like heaven from both of them.
Steve already had your wrists untied as you attempted to catch your breath, kissing each of them gently before letting Bucky stretch over you. His breathing was heavy for a minute, feeling his heart thud almost as fast as yours. His lips met yours in a soft kiss after a few more minutes, humming when he felt you kiss him back. “Still with us, doll?”
You nodded, grounded by having them there as your high faded into oblivion. “Still with you.”
“Do you get why Bucky punished you the way he did?” Steve asked curiously.
You nodded again. “Because I know to take care of myself and I didn’t. And… the punishment was chosen to teach me a lesson," you said quietly, swallowing. Steve had a bottle of water at your mouth in seconds, waiting until you took a few sips before you continued. You were proud you could form words. “But I don’t skip meals often, which is why I was only edged for a few hours.”
Bucky smiled, kissing you again. “I love how smart you are. We just want you to take care of yourself. You gonna do that?”
“Yeah,” you whispered, keeping your eyes shut. You really didn’t mean to worry them. It was still tough to remember some days that you had people looking out for you. But you had a family.
“We’ll get you cleaned up and I’ll order a pizza,” Steve offered.
“We ate,” you grumbled, but you smiled.
“I’m still hungry,” Bucky smirked, making all three of you laugh.
Fucking tattooed bastards.
Hours later, Steve smiled as he walked into the bedroom. Seeing you asleep in Bucky’s arms, holding you like he couldn’t let go, was a sight to behold. He would have to draw it later from memory.
"What, punk?" Bucky asked as his friend shook his head.
"Nothing. Just… love looks good on you."
"Looks good on you, too, Steve. Looks good on you, too."
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Requested by @sandy-benzie (idk why the tagging doesn’t work): redrawing this pose but I make it into an AU(?)
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Part Seven: I use a clothes rack as a weapon
A week later, Natasha, Rou, and I decided to go to the local shopping centre in order to start our search for Yelena.
“Why would she be in a shopping centre?” Rou asked, adjusting his tie. He was wearing the same outfit he wore when I first met him, but he had a black shirt and tie instead of a white shirt and blue tie. He also had bulletproof vest underneath his shirt.
“Because it’s busy. It’s easy to remain hidden,” Natasha replied. She was wearing her black bodysuit that was underneath a black shirt and pencil skirt. She also wore knee-high black combat boots.
“Uh, yeah, about that,” I said, clocking a man and woman around ten meters behind us. They were dressed in plain clothes, but they had definitely been following us for the last minute or so.
“How many?” Natasha hissed.
“Two so far.”
I looked around the shopping centre, and saw a woman smile at me from the balcony.
“Make that three.”
“Piece of cake.”
We went into a clothes shop on the first floor, and Natasha went into a changing room, taking off her skirt and shirt.
Rou looked nervous.
“Are they still following us?”
At that moment, the shutters went down, blocking our exit.
“Sorry, what’s going on?” I asked a nearby shop assistant.
She looked at me up and down, taking in my white shirt, dark blue jacket with their dark red buttons and the gun peaking out of the pouch on my belt. She gave my metal arm a quick glance over, but didn’t say anything about it.
I thought the outfit looked decent enough; the black trousers were tight and high-waisted, and the black combat boots had fancy steel caps on them.
My domino mask showed my eyes, which wasn’t a good idea when on the run, but I didn’t mind.
“Is everything ok?” I asked. “Why are the shutters down?”
She smiled at me, and pulled out a gun.
“You’re not leaving this store,” the shop assistant said.
At that point, Natasha walked out of the changing cubicle.
“Well that’s new,” she said. “I’ve never been held at gun point in a clothes shop before.”
“First time for everything.”
“Back room, now!” The woman snapped.
We quickly obeyed her.
Poor Rou had gone pale.
As we headed towards the back room, it dawned on me that we wouldn’t make it back out. I had to think quickly about what to do.
I saw a clothes rack to my right, and quickly pulled it down in our path.
The shop assistant jumped in surprise, and we took that as our cue to run.
“How are we going to get out?” Rou yelled.
“We smash through the windows!” Natasha replied.
We did just that.
And then we were met by six very angry looking people.
Three of them were the agents I’d seen in the shopping centre. The other three were men who were a lot taller then me.
It was Rou who made the first move.
He thrusted his elbow into one woman, and then punched a man in the nose.
I shoved past the two agents, who went flying over the balcony.
Natasha electrocuted the last two agents.
We then ran for our lives, shoving through people, who gave us rude stares.
We finally made it into a fast food restaurant, and sat down at a table in the corner.
“That was horrible,” Rou said.
“Get used to it,” a female voice with a thick Russian accent.
We all looked up to see a tall, athletic woman in a white bodysuit with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was holding a vanilla milkshake in one hand.
“Yelena! You’re here!” I said, pleased to see a familiar face.
Yelena glared at me, and sat next to Natasha.
“You’re late. I was waiting here for ages.”
“Sorry, we got held up. I’m Rou,” Rou said, shaking Yelena’s hand.
“I’m Yelena Belova. Nice to meet you, Rou.”
“How do you know Natasha and Bucky?” Rou asked.
Yelena took a sip of her vanilla milkshake.
“Me and Natalia go way back. We’re friends.”
“Sometimes,” Natasha said, smiling at Yelena.
“Yes. But I think we’ve gotten past those days of us fighting.”
Rou looked confused.
“It’s a long story,” Natasha said.
“Your name is Natalia? I thought it was Natasha?”
“I’m from Russia. My name is Natalia Romanova. But please, call me Natasha.”
“How come you sound American?”
“I’m a spy. YA mogu sdelat' lyuboy aktsent, podkhodyashchiy dlya strany, v kotoroy ya nakhozhus',” she said, explaining how she could change her accent to fit the country she was in.
“You’re not very bright, are you?” Yelena asked Rou.
“Um, I’m a bit new to all this spy business.”
“So, what is this mission you need my help with?”
“We’re taking down a corrupt secret agency.”
Yelena perked up at that.
“Tell me more.”
I explained everything, and she smiled.
“Alright. I’m in.”
Love & Other Desire - Chapter 10
AN: I can’t at this point…
Pairing: Steve Rogers × Reader, (Future) Stucky × Reader
Warnings: Fluff, smut and angst are continuous themes in the whole series
For this chap: ANGST
Word Count: 1028
The main Masterlist for this series is here.
Previous // Next
Sex & Sadness
We shuffle into the living room with Steve leading the way. Me and Bucky exchange an uneasy glance and watch while Steve tosses a bouquet of lavenders on the table. Bucky opens his mouth to say something but is immediately cut off.
“Don’t. Just don’t,” Steve hisses, slipping out of his suit. Bucky’s mouth snaps shut, and he looks to me for help, but I only stare forward.
“What’s your plan exactly James?” Steve asks and Bucky winces at the angry use of his name.
“I just bought flowers Steve. And I came to check up on her,” he says, his gloved hand slipping into his pocket.
“You do that for all your patients?” Steve asks, rolling up his sleeves which would’ve seemed totally hot if I wasn’t getting chided like a child.
“Hey, that’s exactly what I said,” I say, making both their heads turn toward me. Bucky looks betrayed and Steve doesn’t look particularly amused.
I shrug and mouth a ‘what’ while shuffling toward the couch and throw my feet up once I get there.
“What do you want from us Bucky?” Steve asks and the tension in the room reaches its peak. Bucky looks to me for help and I melt.
“Steve, he’s telling the truth. There’s no secret agenda in coming to visit me, he really did bring flowers. Lavenders too,” I whisper the last sentence and look at Bucky with a grateful smile.
“So where have you been?” Steve asks, getting up to pour himself a drink.
“Steve, it’s the middle of the goddamn day, are you seriously drinking right now?” I ask, annoyed.
“Yes, I am. You know why? Because I came home to find my wife just ‘hanging out’ with our ex-lover,” he hisses while stalking towards Bucky. He stops within an inch of Bucky’s face, and I watch with bated breath. Both their eyes flick down to each other lips and I console myself in the knowledge that I’m not the only one with weird feelings.
“Well, where have you been?” Steve hisses against Bucky’s face who gulps in response.
“I-I was in MSF for about 4 years after my residency. I came back recently,” he says as he drops his gaze to the floor.
‘Why are you wearing a glove?” Steve asks, his attention snapping to Bucky’s covered hand.
Bucky’s hand shoots out to clasp his gloved hand as he slips out from beneath Steve’s piercing gaze.
‘U-Um n-nothing,” he says unconvincingly.
“Are you hurt?” Steve asks, his stance softening at Bucky’s nervousness.
“Just an accident. Nothing serious,”
“Then why are you hiding it?” I ask as I lean forward, eager for his answer.
“No reason,” he says, hiding his hand behind his back.
“Show me,” Steve says, walking toward Bucky.
“Show me. Please,” Steve coaxes, his gaze concerned.
“No,” Bucky screams in retaliation while his hands shoot to his hair and almost pull out some strands.
“Hey, don’t do that,” Steve says as he steps forward and pulls Bucky’s hands away. He pauses to turn Bucky’s hands over in his.
“Wha-,”he cuts off as he slides the glove off.
Black metal glints in the sunlight. The metal flexes underneath mine and Steve’s gaze. I stand abruptly from my seat and hobble towards Bucky.
“Don’t look at me,” he says as he turns away and his shoulders rock in silent sniffles.
“What happened?” I ask as I support my weight on Steve and hesitantly wrap an arm around his waist. His fingers search mine in comfort that I readily provide.
“It happened during MSF. We were building a hospital when a bomb dropped. A part of the scaffolding fell on my arm. They had to amputate. The arm is new tech. Some rich dude with lots of tech, Tony Stark I think, donated the tech and the arm,” he says casually.
Steve and I stare at each other, and I almost burst in tears. I step toward Bucky and tentatively grab his metal arm in mine. I stroke the cold metal digits in between mine.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I hug his waist and tears spill from the corner of my eye.
He turns around in my arms and hugs me back while Steve only stares. Bucky abruptly pulls away and starts to tug his jacket on.
“I should go,” he says and turns to leave.
“Wait! I…” Steve begins but I stop him with an arm on his hand.
“You were right Stevie,” Bucky says, marching to the front door. “I didn’t just come here for the flowers. I honestly don’t know why I came. I guess I just had to see for myself that you both are happy together and that me coming back here would ruin everything. And I know now. That you are happy, I mean and that I’m ruining it. So, you won’t have to see me again.”
He pulls the door open and with a last soft smile, he turns and walks out. Steve sighs heavily and goes to pour himself another drink. I can only stand and stare at the door.
“Come here,” Steve whispers from where he sits on the sofa. I shuffle over to him with my mind still processing his words.
“I don’t even know what to say anymore,” I say, dragging a hand down my face.
“Don’t say, drink,” he replies, handing me a scotch. I down it in one big gulp and settle back against Steve’s side.
“You think we were the ones that drove him away?” he asks after a beat of silence. I pour myself another drink and think about it. It’s possible but I know that’s not the reason. But I also don’t think Steve is ready to know the reason.
“No, I don’t,” I whisper as I shift to cuddle deeper into his side. He wraps and arm around my shoulder and I rest mine on his thigh.
“Yeah?” he asks, his voice genuinely curious.
“Yeah. If we did, he wouldn’t have been here so,” I say as I shrug.
“I guess so,” he says hesitantly.
“We’ll be ok,” I murmur against his cheek before dropping a kiss there.
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Chapter Six: Rou and Natasha spar
The next day, I decided to put the plan into motion.
“You and me are going to train today,” I said to Rou over breakfast.
“Train for what?” He asked.
“The mission. The schedule has changed a bit, so we’ve got a week.”
“I’ll help,” Steve said. He was a tall, muscular man with broad shoulders, blonde hair, blue eyes, and was currently dressed in a white vest top and white jogging bottoms.
Rou looked a little bit intimidated by him.
“Sure thing. I’ll meet you both at the gym in half an hour,” he said quietly.
“What do you mean by the schedule moving up?” Steve asked quietly as Rou was stretching. We were in the gym. Steve and I were in the boxing ring where we were doing some stretches.
“There were members of The Saints at that Neo-Nazi gathering,” I replied.
Rou must’ve heard us because he said:
“Of course. I was supposed to die on that mission they sent me on. When an agent dies, they get an alert. They obviously didn’t, so they’ve sent people out to find me.”
I stared at him.
“You didn’t think to tell us this earlier.”
“Um, I was busy with Sharon; she was teaching me how to shoot a gun. Im good now.”
“Today,” Steve said, “we’re going to find out your fighting style.”
“My fighting style?”
“Yeah,” I explained. “Everyone has one. Steve’s is more gymnastics based. Mine is a combination of weapons, gymnastics, and boxing. Natasha’s fighting style incorporates dancing; she used to be a ballerina back in the day. Sharon mostly uses weapons. And Sam is more focused on aerial acrobatics.”
“He’s a member of our team. He’s out working with terrorist victims who have PTSD right now. You’ll hopefully meet him; he’s a great guy,” Steve said.
“Ah, ok. What kind of fighting incorporates dance moves? Can I learn that?”
“So you kick and then spin and then kick again,” I explained.
“Right. Like this?”
Rou kicked me in the stomach, spun around, and kicked me again. I double upped in pain.
“Ouch. Yeah, just like that.”
“It’s fine; you pack a powerful kick.”
“Now, try and avoid my attacks,” Steve said.
I watched with fascination from the sidelines as Steve tried to attack Rou.
Rou literally danced out of the way, spinning and jumping and running rings around Steve. He was very fast.
Rou then squatted down, and - balancing on his hands and one leg - swiftly kicked Steve’s legs out from underneath him.
“Woah. You’re good,” I said in awe.
Rou smiled and then apologised to Steve.
A few hours later, Natasha offered to spar with Rou. Sparring was fighting with punches that didn’t hurt.
“I’m so watching this,” I laughed.
Rou was dressed in a loose grey vest and blue shorts. Natasha had a black leotard on.
“I’ll go easy on you,” Natasha said kindly.
Sharon - dressed in a leopard print skirt, black jumper and high heels - joined Steve and I as we watched Rou and Natasha spar.
Natasha tied her hair up into a ballerina’s bun, and then assessed Rou, looking at him up and down.
Rou looked like he was going to faint.
I felt a bit bad; maybe pitting him against Natasha was unfair.
Then Natasha lunged, aiming a fist at Rou’s throat.
Rou spun out of the way, and then squatted down and went to kick Natasha’s legs out from underneath her.
She was too smart, and lightly leapt over him, and pirouetted, kneeing him in the chest as he stood up.
Rou watched her closely, trying to figure out her next move.
He lunged at her, grabbing her arm gently (this was sparring after all), and taking a Bobby pin out of her bun, and held it at her neck.
“I win,” he smirked.
Natasha cocked her head to one side, kicked him in the groin, and then wrapped her legs around his head and pulled him down to the ground.
“I win,” she said, taking the bobby pin out of his hand and putting it back into her hair.
Man, I love my girlfriend.
- "You know what? I'm not that tired, so... come here. Let's, uh, test this thing."
Stucky AU - Sofas
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Summary: Y/n has never been good at relationships. In fact, she sucks at them. So much so, her friends often place bets on how long they will last. The only man she’s managed to keep by her side for longer than a month is her best friend Bucky Barnes, that is, until she meets Steve Rogers. Will Steve be the one to change her or will he help her realize something she’s known all along?
Who: Y/n Y/l/n x Bucky Barnes. Y/n Y/l/n x Steve Rogers. Featuring: Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Clint and Laura Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff and Jarvis Vision.
Warnings: The usual cursing and sex. This isn’t the boy scout Steve Rogers character.
I’m pretty sure this has always been me. I meet someone fall hard and when it all seems perfect i take a look at my life like I’m watching a movie. I think, am I really happy? Is this really the life i want? Eventually, I bail.
I don’t know why I’m like this, well that’s not entirely true. I just refused to figure it out. What I do know is this is me returning home after breaking up with another amazing guy because I just turned into an astrologer needing time and space from this relationship.
“Hey we’re all going to Iron Bar later invite Greyson.” Nat says when i answer her FaceTime call.
A heavy sigh leaves my mouth “I don’t think he can make it.”
“We uh we broke up.” I suddenly hear a mix of groans and cheers from all of our friends at her place.
“I hate you guys. Who won?”
“That would be me.” I can see Sams gapped tooth smile when he says he’s the victor.
“Double or nothing if I can guess how she did it.” He lifts a brow.
“I’ll take that bet.” Nat focuses her phone on Bucky “Don’t let me down doll.” He winks and i roll my eyes.
“I’m going with, ‘You’re a great guy I’m just not in a place for something serious’ for one hundred Johnny.”
“Eh!” A buzzer noise erupts from my mouth.“Pay the man.”
“Damn really? What you say?” Sam asks as he takes money out of his wallet.
“Booo!” They shout.
“I hate you all.” They see me roll my eyes before ending the call
Barnes: Free tonight then?
Y/n/n: Or sooner. . .
Y/n/n: Like now.
Barnes: Leaving Nats
Thirty minutes later Bucky and I are naked on my couch.
“Damn doll.” He breaths heavily as i climb off of him.
“We missed you.” I smirk
“I see that. Where you going?”
“Bedroom.” Looking over my shoulder I ask if he’s coming.
I’ve known Bucky Barnes my whole life. He’s literally been my best friend since i was five. He was my first kiss, after I barged into his bedroom crying that all my friends had been kissed. He planted his plush lips on mine then in true Bucky form told me to, shut up about it.
He was my first, first. Senior year we went on a camping trip to Oregon. It was incredible. The stars sparkled in the night sky and suddenly their was a meteor shower. He took the opportunity to properly kiss me and we ended up having sex, a few times. Which actually lead to the creation of our annual camping trip.
We even went to college together. With Bucky, it’s the best of both worlds, sex with zero real commitment.
Lying between his legs, my arms are folded under my head, resting on his stomach, when he asks how i broke up with Grey. I lift my brow in response.
“Oh come on.”
“Fine, i said i needed time and space to figure myself out.”
I smack his chest, “Shuddup.”
“What did you say to the last one?”
“I wasn’t in the right state of mind to start something so serious.”
“You’re a terrible person.”
“Mmm I’m pretty sure you told Dol you were moving across the country.”
“Again I don’t see how that makes me worse than you.”
“Get inside me again before I remember you’re a total douchebag.”
We do this awhile longer before falling asleep. I swear Bucks the only guy I’ve ever been real with.
“Mm Y/n your phone.” Bucky mumbles.
“Your phone is ringing.” He groans.
Reaching my hand out I feel for it on the bed and nightstand finally finding it.
My voice is groggy when I answer hello.
“Y/n?” The familiar voice asks very confused.
“The hell? Why are you answering Bucky’s phone?”
My eyes widen sitting up. Shit!
“I thought it was mine, he uh came to get me to go out with you guys.”
“Oh alright. How long till y’all leave?”
“I don’t know like thirty.”
“Cool we’re headed out in a few so see you soon.”
My glare meets Bucky. Grabbing a pillow, i hit him over the head with it.
“What the hell?!” He rolls on to his back.
“That was your phone. It was Sam.”
“Oh.” Realization hasn’t hit him as he lazily rubs his eyes yawning “Oh shit.”
“Yea dick. Get up we gotta go.”
“But, I’m tired.”
“Well i couldn’t say we’re not going because we just spent the last four hours fucking.”
“You could’ve.” His arms wrap around my waist nuzzling into my side.
“I’m going to shower.” That peaked his interest.
“Mmm, fine. But be quick.”
Fourty five minutes later we make it to the bar.
“Where the hell have you guys been.” Nat shouts over the chatter and music when we make it to the table.
“She messed up her eyeliner or something.” Buck shrugs.
“You’re not wearing eyeliner.” Nat says confused.
“Lashes he meant lashes. Fucker wouldn’t stick.” My finger lifts my falsie as if it backs up what i said.
“Come on Lauras here.” Laura is Clints wife who rarely comes out with us.
“Y/n! How are you!” She’s drunk already.
“Hey babe, not as good as you.” I smile hugging the sweet girl.
“Have you ever had a watermelon cooler? They’re really good!”
“Yea? Maybe I’ll try one. You guys need anything?”
“I’m good!” Nat shouts.
I don’t mind this bar it’s smaller but has a decent area to dance and on Friday/Saturday nights theres a band.
“Everyone put your hands together for Steve Rogers.” The club manger speaks into the mic though my attention is on getting a drink.
“What can I get you?”
“Tequila and soda please.”
The guy starts playing his guitar and so far it sounds nice. I turn to put a face to the sound and am completely in aw of the sight of this man. We make eye contact but I’m the first to break it when the bartender gives me my drink.
“Hey what’s taking you so long?” Bucky shows up blocking my view of the guy.
“I just got my drink.” He drapes his arm around me leading me back to the group as he goes on about something Nat said but I’m fixed on the singer. Sliding into the booth Laura cozies up beside me nudging my side.
“He’s cute.” She grins. My eyes stutter coming off the singer to look at her.
“What?” I ask trying to regain my focus.
“The guitar guy. He’s cute.”
“Yea, i guess.”
“Okay.” She rolls her eyes. “You and that one still hooking up?”
“Laura.” I almost growl her name.
Unfortunately for everyone involved Laura caught Bucky and I at Clint’s birthday last year. Though sometimes it’s nice to talk to her about it.
“No one’s paying us any mind. So that’s a ya?”
“Like Friday nights?” I glare and she laughs.
“Hey you need another?” Bucky asks walking over to our side of the booth.
“I’m good thanks.”
“It’s no problem.” He smiles.
“I’m good too thanks.” Laura shouts as he walks away.
“Y/n, Y/n, Y/n!” Nat runs over sitting across from us.
“Nat, nat, nat?”
“That guy has been staring at you since he started playing.”
“What?” When i look up he’s finishing his set putting his guitar down. “Is he coming over here? He’s coming over here.” Fuck he has a good smile.
“Hey. Sorry to interrupt. I saw you before I started playing and I didn’t want to regret not introducing myself.”
“Uh drink Laura?” Nat asks the jerk sitting next to me.
“Yea look at that I’m empty.” She gets up heading off with Nat. Really great friends.
“I guess, take a seat?” I extend my arm out to the seat Nat just left empty.
“You don’t have to entertain me. If you’re not interested, i could just get lost.”
“I’m not sure if I’m interested yet.” He scratches his neck with a smile.
“I don’t know you so no need to lie.”
“Funny how that happens isn’t it?”
“The less you know someone the more honest you are.”
“I suppose you care less about the judgment of a stranger.”
“Steve Rogers.” He extends his hand.
“Now we’re not strangers.”
He smiles and I’m pretty sure i just fell in love.
“Looks like Y/ns over Greyson.” Sam nods in her direction.
“Who is that?” Clint asks.
“The guy that was just playing guitar.” Laura answers and now all five of them are staring at Y/n and Steve.
“Musician? Yea, no. I’ll give it two weeks.” Bucky bets.
“Oh I’ll take that.” Sam turns to Nat. “Baby?”
“Yea I’m opening my notes.” Nat says pulling out her phone.
“You guys are terrible.” Laura hugs Clint.
“Yea terrible.” Clint agrees with his wife “Put me down for two months.” He yelps when she nudges his rib. “What? You know Y/n she’s not the most committed.”
“I don’t know, Bucky?” She questions “You’ve been with her awhile.”
“Friends. We’re just friends, no commitment Laura.”
“That is probably the longest relationship she’s had.” Nat shrugs.
“I say they make it.” The whole group looks to Laura then laughs.
“You think what? They’ll get married?” Buck asks.
“I don’t know, maybe.” She looks over at them.
Y/ns definitely into him and he hasn’t taken his eyes off her since he set them on her in the first place.
“I can see them getting serious.”
“Maybe switch to water.” Nat suggests.
“Alright add her to the board Nat.” Sam shrugs taking a swig from his bottle.
“So what exactly is the bet?” Nat asks.Laura smiles shaking her head. “You’re not telling us?”
“Nope. I’ll write my prediction down.”
“That’s not how we,” Sam starts to say when Nat interrupts him.
“I like it. Jerry!” Nat shouts at one of the bartenders. “Pen and paper?” When he hands them over she gives them to Laura.
She takes a minute to scribble something on the paper.
“Chance you got an envelope?” He squints a moment then ducks by the register.
Laura places the paper inside, licks it closed, then signs it before handing it to Nat.
“A pleasure.” Nat smirks
Laura might be on to something with Mr. Musician because Y/n looks very much interested in the gorgeous man in front of her.
“So you’re a musician?”
“No, no uh my friend owns the bar. The band they had cancelled last minute. I’m just doing him a favor.”
“Oh well that’s nice of you.”
“How about you? Musically inclined?”
“Well i do put on quite a show in my shower or when I’m cleaning.”
“I’d like to see that.” He laughs.
“I bet you would.” i grin.
“I didn’t mean it like,” he becomes flustered cheeks turning red from embarrassment “i would love to hear you sing.”
“G-d you’re adorable.” His face goes serious a moment staring through his long lashes.
“You’re beautiful.” His eyes are gorgeous shades of blue with the smallest hints of green. He stares in a way that makes you feel both vulnerable and secure. Is this what falling in love feels like?
“Uhm so what do you do?”
“I, well I paint.”
“You paint? Like houses?” He laughs
“No unless you need a room done then sure but no I’m an artist I guess.”
“Oh like an actual painter. That’s interesting.”
“Yea i enjoy it. It’s always been something i loved and now i make a living from it so it’s I don’t know nice I guess.”
“I totally get what you mean. I love books. I was always that kid who read through the summer reading list or finished the book the day the class started you know? There’s nothing better than finding a great book and cuddling up on the couch with some coffee. Unless it’s a cold rainy day then that makes it absolute perfection.”
“Have you ever been to Willow in Brooklyn on Smith? That’s the exact atmosphere you get in there. It feels like you’re in a secluded cabin in the woods.”
“That’s your what?”
“My shop. I own it.”
“Are you serious? I’m there all the time. Strange I’ve never seen you.”
“I’m in the middle of opening up another location in Manhattan but with a bit of a different theme. It’s more lay a blanket under a tree or meadow full of flowers, enjoy a perfect spring day kinda vibe. The location is bigger I’m hoping to have writers, poets, perhaps the occasional musician come out and speak or play.”
“That sounds incredible Y/n.”
“Thank you. And hey if you ever decide to fully venture in to music, I may be able to get you a gig in 2-3 months”
“If i can see you again i might take you up on that.” I bite my lip.
“Hey Y/n ready to go?” Bucky slides me down the booth taking a seat beside me.
“Uh we just,” checking my phone i see it’s a little past midnight. “Oh wow we’ve been talking for awhile.”
Steve does the same, eyes widening a bit “Seems like i just sat down.”
“So?” Bucky asks kinda annoyed.
“Oh Steve this is Bucky Barnes my best friend. Bucky this is Steve Rogers.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Ya you too. So, are you ready.”
“Unless uh would you maybe wanna grab a cup of coffee?” Steve asks me.
“That sounds great actually.”
“Really?” Bucky makes a face.
“Yes really.” I glare at him. “Let me just go say goodbye really quick.”
“Alright I’ll be here.”
Bucky moves out so that i can get up draping his arm around me as we walk back to the group.
“Oh my G-d!” I mouth to Nat and Laura.
“He’s hot.” Nat smirks.
“Ay.” Sam warns “I’m right here.”
“I know.” Sam throws his hands up. “So you going home with him?”
“No just grabbing some coffee.”
“Sure.” She winks.
“No I don’t know,” i turn to look at him “he’s not a one night stand kinda guy.”
“You’re really going out with this guy?” Buck asks me.
“Yes? Is that not ok?”
“Just thought we would go back to my place.” He says in a hushed tone.
“Oh I see you didn’t pick any one up so I’m your last resort?” I roll my eyes with a smile. “You’ll be ok James. See you guys tomorrow!”
Heading back to Steve I can’t suppress my smile. Especially not when he smiles back.
“Ready?” He holds out his hand and I gladly intertwine my fingers with his.
“Lead the way.”
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Steve Rogers runs the Brooklyn Burrow by keeping a close ear on everything that's going on. There's not a deal that happens that he's not privy to and he likes it that way. Whether it's paying off informants or simply loosening lips with a night-cap if something is happening in his territory Steve knows about it. So when you walk into the club and he has no idea who you are, it sets him on edge. It's not long until he knows all about you and he decides to keep you for himself.
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Hi, I’m not back right now, but it was just brought to my attention by my friend that dark!fic writers on here are getting some hate and I just want to say something. Just because you write something doesn’t, mean you are a bad person, just because you read something doesn’t, mean you are a bad person either. So many of the writers who I follow and who follow are some of the most amazing people in real life! I started reading dark!fics as a way to cope with what I went through, it was a form of therapy, was it an ideal way? No, but it helped me, deal with my trauma on my terms and honestly I owe a lot to the dark!fic writers. They did more for me than my first 3 therapist did, after the trauma I went through as a teen. Most stories here on tumblr are tagged with trigger warnings (tw’s:) letting you know what to be aware of helping you avoid a story so you don’t read it! As consumers of fanfiction its up to us to block our triggers, to read the descriptions the writers should be giving us (there are some who do not give descriptions, those stories I don’t even bother to read.) and decide if it’s even worth it. Don’t be attacking writers on tumblr, Wattpad, AO3, FF.net or anywhere you consume your content, telling them to off them self, that in itself is triggering and disgusting behavior.
Hey Writer! Keep writing and being your amazing self because I’m so thankful for you for supplying us readers with content, and writing inspiration!
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Give me a reporter Peggy who interviews Steve shortly after The Battle of New York. She insists on calling him Steve, not Cap like these other idiots do. She also meets his eyes and is patient with questions. When he’s overwhelmed, she stops and they talk about anything else (she’s clear to say it’s off the record).
She’s gentle and kind to him, where others aren’t. When she’s forced to do a press with him once, others over speak her despite her best to yell, frustratingly she was considering sabotaging the jerk beside her when Steve called on her by name.
He remembered her.
After the press, she thanks him for that and Steve tries to act all sheepish and say it was nothing. They eventually start talking and even share a cigarette between them before Steve asks if she wants to go for a drink.
It’s a pleasant bar, a small one, and there’s a distant memory here for Steve, she notes but she doesn’t say it.
Steve is kind and sweet to her as they talk, it’s his turn to ask the questions before they get into friendly competitions of asking the most random questions, who can catch the most peanuts (who can flick the most peanuts and hit the creep trying to hit on people ignoring them).
It’s an amazing night that leads to Steve walking her home and Peggy inviting him in.
That’s how she wakes up to Captain America, wearing a Captain America t-shirt she had (oh and yes he teases her for it), cooking her breakfast.
When the article publishes, Steve is surprised at how much she reins in on the government for treating him like crap, for insisting that a 26 year old whose just weeks from the past, to their future is okay to lead and act like they didn’t force him to. That he’s her age and she’s barely graduated college and found her footing in life before you ask a 26 year old to fight aliens. And Steve, the selfless Steve Rogers (note, not Captain America) would say yes because someone has to do it and he won’t let others get hurt.
He’s surprised, not upset. Of course, it hangs in his apartment and Fury is amused that this Carter will speak her mind. She even threatens to punch him in the face once when he makes a comment on Captain America and the line of duty
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Good For Me
Pairing:CEO!Steve Rogers x Secretary!Reader
Warnings: Alludes to smut, so 18+ I suppose.
A/N: Another Drabble of sorts for our up and coming CEO Sugar Daddy Steve! Listen though, @fandom-basurero brings out the baby hoe in me, like she just has to tell me to hear her out and I'm over here delivering her teaser filths left and right. So she told me to hear her out and I did, she wanted CEO daddy Steve to be getting some head and I said say no more, i’ll do what I can, and I have, enjoy sweet babes!
All Other Work Can Be Found On My Masterlist In My Bio.
‘You could give that man the world on a silver platter and he still wouldn’t blink an eye at you’
His thumb runs over your lower lip, “so goddamn beautiful sweetheart, look so beautiful on your knees tucked away between daddies legs.”
“Do you like the necklace I got you,” he murmurs fingers dancing along your buttoned blouse flicking away at the pearl like buttons that hold your shirt together, “looks awfully good on you, just like I knew it would,” he smiles, “you planning on telling me thank you, showing me just how much you like it,” he questions as his fingers hook on the silver chain pulling till he draws you closer between his legs.
Your body goes willingly, manicured hands laying flat on his parted legs as you shuffle closer wincing as the wooden floors burn the skin of your knees.
His thumb brushes your lower lip, your lips parting at the motion, “so good for me,” he breathes in the quiet after hours of his office, “you gonna take all of me today, keep me in that beautiful mouth of yours while I make a few calls?”
Your answer comes without hesitation, “yes daddy.”
His pink lips split into a mesmerizing grin, legs parting further, finger still hooked around your chain as he tugs you closer, “good girl, now the belts not gonna unbuckle itself so why don’t you get to work, clients don’t like to wait and neither do I, you can do that for me can’t you, get me out of my pants?”
Your nodding your head, nimble fingers reaching for the buckle of his belt, he takes your chin in his fingers freezing your movements, as he leans down to press his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, “be good for me and I'll give you anything your heart desires.”
‘I would have submitted my resignation the first day under Roger’s, he's an absolute ass, how you’ve lasted this long is by me, the guy obviously doesn’t know how to treat the women under him’
His favorite silk black tie is shoved in your mouth; “no one could compare to you y/n, you know that right,” he questions from behind your bent over form, “I might not say it enough - but you truly do go above and beyond for me don’t you,” he murmurs his hand landing roughly on your exposed back side, fingers kneading your ample flesh.
Your incoherent behind the material he’s managed to force into your mouth, “shh,” he hushes, smoothing over the sting of your skin, “don’t want anyone wandering in here do we, it might be after hours, but there’s likely to be a few stragglers,” he murmurs.
You let out a quiet whine, which earns you a husky chuckle, “missed seeing you today you know,” he continues fingers running along your skin dipping then rising. “Buck had you running errands all day, swear that punk is trying to steal you from me, I wouldn’t doubt it, I've heard the whispers.” His hands dip a little farther seeking out your heat, “been hearing a lot of talk from the others in this office that you should sign with him, take his offer, has he asked you to work under him, promised you things that I couldn’t?”
Your answer is muffled through the gag, though its not long that you have to wait before Steve is pressing into your back his hand reaching for the tie, pulling the material from your mouth, “what was that,” he questions.
“He has asked me to work for him,” you answer, “has promised me a better position-” Steve tsks, begins to move away, but your hand leaves the wooden oak desk grabbing whatever part of him you can reach to hold him in place, “but,” you continue, “there’s only one person I would rather be under, and it isn’t Barnes, he - he can’t give me the things that I truly want.”
The office grows quiet; and you almost worry that you’ve said something wrong, gone to far with the intimate thoughts you shared, but then Steve is moving so quickly his movements jar you. His hands find your hips turning you quickly your backside hitting the desk just as roughly as your front had the second you had been within arms reach of your boss.
He’s pressing into you, his erection straining against his grey slacks, warm hands finding your face, “and what is it that you want,” he questions blue orbs staring right into yours.
You lick over your bottom lip, heart thrumming away steadily in your chest a wild drum sounding in your ear, “you - I want you.”
A breathtaking smile kisses your bosses lips, his head finding yours, “my girl,” he murmurs his thumb once more running over your parted lips, “my sweet, sweet girl, you’re too good to me, more than I deserve.”
Now that it’s out in the air there’s a part of you that feels you need to say more, but Steve doesn’t give you the chance as his lips crash to yours, his tongue sliding past your lips to dance with yours.
“gonna give you everything and more,” he groans his hips grinding into yours, “gonna make sure my girl know how much she's adored, now lay back for me sweetheart, let daddy take care of you.”
You don’t have to be told twice, your clothed back meeting the chill of the wooden desk beneath you, hooded eyes watching, waiting for his next move. His eyes are locked with yours as his hands roam your body, hiking your already pressed up skirt further up your hips.
His hands leave the warmth of your body to work open his slacks, his hardened cock springing from the tight confines. He presses in close, cock head slipping past your folds drawing a low whine from your lips. He hushes you with a press of his lips to yours licking away at your groans till his his are flushed with yours.
“Shush now kitten, daddy’s gonna make you feel real good, gonna give you everything you could ever want and more.”
‘Barnes is willing to give you a raise y/n, a raise to get you to sign under him, it’s not like you’d be leaving the office, you’d just be working for someone nicer, take the offer’
You’re perched on his lap again, it’s after hours and there’s not another soul in the office except for the two of you, the way Steve likes.
The second you had walked in after receiving his call you had expected to find yourself on your knees, or your back on his desk, but he had surprised you when he pushed back his chair, patting his thigh.
Even more surprised when he shook his head at you when you tried to straddle his lap like you had many times before, ‘just sit down sweetheart none of that tonight’.
You didn’t question him as you took your seat, one hand circling your waist the other finding your cheek. The office grew quiet as you stayed like that staring at one another, “is - is something wrong did I do something,” you found yourself asking after a beat of silence.
He shook his head, thumb running along your cheek, “you could never do me wrong sweetheart, never but -” the words die on his tongue.
He licks over his bottom lip, you can see him considering his next words, his eyes meet yours, “you know I’d never hold it against you if you felt you’d be treated better under barnes right, nothing between us would change if you chose to work under him.”
“Do you want me to sign with Bucky, do you want me to take his offer,” you question.
“god no sweetheart I-”
“then don’t ask me too, I don’t care what others have to say,” you reply, your hand finding his stubbled cheek, “I could have reported you, and signed under Bucky the first time you asked me to fall to my knees for you, but I didn't - and its because I wanted this too, I wanted you.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth though its small, “you want me sweetheart?”
You roll your eyes, a similar smile pulling at your lips, “as horrible as you can be,” you tease, “I do - I do want you.”
His head finds yours, “what would I do without you?”
“Crash and burn probably, I doubt Bucky would hire another secretary after me you’re too much work,” you grin.
“I am aren’t I,” he chuckles, “think I should show you that I'm worth the trouble.”
Your head tilts to the side in question, though it goes unanswered as Steve ushers you up and off his lap. He moves the two of you around as he guides you back into the office chair.
He smirks as he drops to his knees before you, strong hands grabbing ahold of your thighs as he pulls you and the chair forward spreading your legs.
“Think its about time I show you just how good I can be for you, don’t you?”
Oh you couldn’t agree more.
WorldofAUs Forever Tag-list: @cap-n-stuff-main @bucky-cinnamonroll-barnes@kseniiafirebrace @sideeffectsofyou @pinknerdpanda @thefridgeismybestie @b0nkybarnes @oliviastan17 @fandom-basurero @lookiamtrying @baddie-barnes @fortyninegal @peacelovehobbitness @noeaerialist @the-cry-of-youth @liebs82 @jbarness @morganclaire4 @runaway-escape @melimelbean @coffeebooksandfandom @rebekahdawkins @thinkaboutmara @im-squished @angstysebfan @strangersstranger @stuckyslutt @courtneychicken @tonystankschild @fallenoutofrose @jasminepaz @nnuree @ene-rene @mollygetssherlockcoffee @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @doozywoozy @buchanansebba @purselover2 @connie326 @bestofbucky @white-wolf1940 @stopjustlovethemcu @stuckysavedmylive @sarcasmoverlordxo @avantgardium-leviosa @wittysunflower @muralskins @snakeeater17 @moonlitskinandcrimsonribbons @some0nereally @sumtimesitbelikedat @gudenuph @zareen165 @dancer3205 @gemstone-roses @buchanansebba @moshymosh @cachemonet @deepmuffinspymaker @buckybarneshairpullingkink @supernaturalbaesduh @vivalakatee
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Here's the angsty sequel to this prompt I got a few weeks ago. It will definitely be multi-chaptered (I’m thinking 4) and pretty canon compliant with endgame fix-it.
lookin for love (in all the wrong places)
In CA:CW Steve kicks Spider-Man in the chest, awakening a soul deep bond and sending Peter into his first heat, before running away to Wakanda.
The soul bond, omegaverse, Spidershield angsty romance everyone needs.
Word count: 3.4K
Rating: T (for now)
Warnings: depressive tendencies due to soul bond sickness, poor Peter, general talk of Omega heat
Read it here on AO3
Title is from this song by Johnny Lee
He’s always wondered what it would be like to be an Omega. Both him and Bucky had presented as Alphas in grade school, but even when his knot was smaller than a golf ball and people looked at him confused when he scented Alpha, Steve still hadn’t known.
Now he does. At least partially. His body aches, hot and empty as waves of heat roll through him. It reminds him of when he was fifteen and came down with pneumonia, and he hates it. He’s warm but has no fever, achy and sweaty but his body is functioning perfectly. After three hours, he passes out from the stress, and when he wakes up, Shuri is staring down at him in disappointment.
“Good, you’re awake. For Bast’s sake, I swear you’re just like my brother— never asking for help, never thinking anything is wrong until bam!” she claps her hands, turning to walk across the room, “you’re unconscious.”
Just as he’s about to ask what happened, a wave of agony washes through him and he curls around his body instinctively, forcing deep breaths as tears gather in his eyes. There’s a frantic beeping nearby and he can sense other people in the room, hands on his body, before his vision goes dark again.
All he can remember is feeling empty, and the desperate memory has him disoriented. He has never wanted to bend over, to take a knot deep inside— but the desire was there all the same, through the haze of agony, a need to be filled and held.
“Captain Rogers, are you mated?”
“Captain Rogers, are you mated?”
The voice comes from his left, and Steve turns to face the King as he steps into view. He tries to sit up but T’Challa just waves for him to rest. It takes a moment to concentrate and understand what the King just said.
“Mated, your Highness? No, I’m not mated. I…” Steve rubs the skin of his arm as he looks away, “I’m not mated yet.”
T’Challa gives him a disbelieving look and gestures to the bright red soul mark, “But you have met them, have you not?” When Steve doesn’t respond, he just steps forward and continues, “Captain, you have just withstood six days of severe bond sickness, with symptoms indicative of an Omega’s heat.”
The implication sinks in. There was nothing wrong with him to begin with— the pain was shared, through his bond with his soulmate. Oh god, his Omega is somewhere out there, in heat, and Steve is here.
“My Omega,” Steve growls, finally rolling up on his knees to look up at T’Challa, “my Omega’s in heat.”
T’Challa nods, “I know, Captain. Unfortunately, we cannot keep you and your team here for much longer. I can supply you all with supplies and cover for your journey, should you wish to return to your Omega. Otherwise, we have a residence for you to use temporarily.”
Steve nods, forcing himself to calm down, “Thank you, T’Challa— it’s much appreciated. Do you know where Natasha is?”
“Come with me.”
The King leads the way out of the greenhouse and farther into the palace, nodding to various people along the way as Steve matches his strides, cutting through the halls and into the residential wing. There is a collection of men outside Steve’s previous room, and T'Challa asks them a question in Xhosa, nodding when he gets an answer.
“She waits for you inside. Please, prepare your decision and we will send you off in an hour’s time. Thank you, Captain,” he ends with a clipped, professional tone, turning on his heel and heading back down the hall without further comment.
Steve watches him leave for a moment before ducking through the doorway, taking in the dimly lit room. There’s a familiar figure sitting at the vanity, facing away from him. Natasha looks at him in the mirror, and her face is carefully neutral.
She meets his eyes, “Do I need to get Tony on the phone?”
He shudders thinking of those last moments with Tony— rage blurring his vision, driving the shield home and severing their relationship in a brutal strike. As much as he needs to get home to his Omega, he knows Tony wouldn’t allow it right now. Especially not on his dime.
“No, I don’t… I think we move on,” Steve looks out the window where the early evening glow is filtered through the glass, seeming a lot more hopeful than he feels. He turns back when Natasha looks over her shoulder, giving him a light smirk.
“How’s Europe this time of year?”
They start off in Paris because Natasha informs him all good vacations start in Paris. Steve is less than convinced. He knows that T’Challa is relieved to get them off his hands and back into the world. The less attention on Wakanda the better.
The bunker is spacious, fit with several rooms and fully stocked with food and other survival supplies. Plus, since it’s on the outskirts of the city, it has a great view of the Seine. They sleep in shifts for the first few days, and Natasha insists on sweeping the apartment and surrounding hallways for bugs, convinced that they could be followed by Hydra sympathizers. Steve doesn’t doubt it.
On their fourth night there, Steve has a dream that he’s flying.
He’s looking down over millions of people, over rooftops and tiny cars, and he feels completely at peace. His hands anchor him to the sky, and it’s by his effortless strength that he’s suspended in mid air. Besides the bliss of being weightless and free, Steve feels a deep pit in his stomach. He tries to focus on it, but something keeps distracting him, forcing his concentration back to the sights and sounds around him.
With a shudder, he wakes up. What the hell. Steve doesn’t remember the last time he had a dream that didn’t end in cold sweat and a busted weight room. Lately it’s been Bucky and Tony’s eyes haunting him at night, but this is different.
He scans the room and finds Natasha sitting under a nearby windowsill, staring at him steadily. “Dammit, Nat,” he curses, pulling the sheets up around his exposed chest. His voice is coarse, and he reaches for the glass of water on his nightstand.
“That wasn’t a nightmare.”
It isn’t a question, but Steve answers anyways, “No, it wasn’t. I was flying over New York and I felt so free, so strong. Similar to falling without a chute, but I felt completely in control.”
Natasha tilts her head to the side, “That’s cute, Steve.”
He ignores that and thinks back through the dream. It doesn’t seem that significant, but he can’t get over the pit in his stomach, the barely restrained feeling of soul-deep emptiness. He scratches his arm absently, blinking away the last bit of sleep, and turns back to Natasha.
She has her arms folded with a thoughtful look on her face. “Does it have to do with your soul mate?”
“I think so.”
Natasha hums and swings around, moving gracefully to sit near him on the bed. Her scent is so carefully neutral, something to do with the Red Room, and he’s never thought to ask about her presentation. Or her soulmate for that matter.
Bucky’s the same way, and Steve’s getting used to it. He would rather ask and get everything out on the table, but in moments like this, he’s glad Natasha respects the need for silence.
Instead of asking, she scoots in close— a silent offering of comfort. Steve gives her a moment to get comfortable before sliding an arm around her waist, rearranging them until he’s holding her secure from behind. Their breathing is steady, and Steve lets himself scent her minutely.
“You won’t pick anything up that way,” Natasha murmurs, and her body relaxes into his.
Steve just hums, “I know, doesn’t stop me from trying.”
They lay in silence for a while. The only sound in the room is a light ticking of a nearby clock and the soft cadence of their breaths, slow and real and oh so human. Steve stops himself from drawing circles on her skin in a mindless comfort. He stops himself from wishing she was someone else entirely.
Before they drift off— Steve already thinking of flying high over an endless city skyline— Natasha whispers, “We’ll get you home to him, Steve.”
He flies over the city, strung from web to web over the skyscrapers below. With each swing, he shoots himself higher and higher over the buildings in a dangerous arch, letting his descent bring him down, down— past windows and rooftops— until he’s only a few yards from the ground. His heart beats faster, hammering, until he shoots a new web and his body is swung out of the deadly fall.
It’s rhythmic. It’s soothing. And it’s blissfully distracting from the devastating ache deep down in his gut.
School has gone by in a blur since he was in Germany. Classes and commitments feel empty, meaningless, and May has started giving him a look. He knows it’s bad, and that spending long hours fighting crime isn’t the best way to cope.
Anything has to be better than how horrible his first heat was.
He’s secretly glad he was incoherent and unconscious for most of it, because otherwise he would have immediately called Mr. Stark and begged him to let Steve come back. And if he's been buying Captain America merch and adding it to his nest ever since, well, that’s something no one needs to know.
It’s only a few more blocks until he hears screaming, and takes a sharp detour. He definitely has time for another stop.
A few hours later, he’s crawling through his bedroom window and collapsing into his bed with a grunt. He should probably clean the blood off, or change out of the suit, but suddenly he’s wrapped in the tightness of a hug, phantom yet consuming.
The ache in his stomach yields as warmth spreads through his body. Coming from behind him, in front of him, he can almost feel the press of a strong chest against his back, or maybe in front of him, cradled in his arms. He buries his face in his pillow and drifts off, convinced he can almost smell his mate’s scent around him.
When his alarm goes off in the morning, the feeling is gone and Peter is left with only the memory of his soulmate as a reminder throughout the day.
During lunch, MJ slaps him on the arm.
“Hey, loser,” she chews on… damn, she’s eating his fries, “the hell are you thinking about? You look like you’re about to fly away, and you scent so sweet I’m about to throw up. Spill, Parker.”
He forces his arms to uncurl from where they’re wrapped around his body tightly, and pulls his tray back from MJ, “It’s… it’s nothing, okay? Just hormones I guess.”
“You can’t lie for shit, Peter.”
Her glare is intimidating, but Peter just shrugs in response, forcing himself to eat a few fries even though his stomach lurches in protest. MJ’s expression softens and she reaches forward, almost touching his arm, before tucking her hand back into her pocket and clearing her throat.
“You don’t have to tell me, alright? You’ve just been weird since presenting and I want you to know… I, uh… I need you to know—”
Peter takes pity on her, “I get it, MJ, thanks.”
They sit in silence for a few moments before she scoots a little closer, putting her elbows on the table and leaning into his space, “Did some Alpha fuck you?”
“During your heat— did you sleep with some asshole? Did they leave you, is that it?”
“No, no,” Peter backs away, shaking his head in denial, “no one… no one did that.”
“But there is an Alpha?”
It’s hopeless to hide something from MJ. She always figures shit out, and Peter hates that about her. “Yeah, MJ,” he pulls up his sleeve, making sure no one is watching as he shows her the flaming red words on his forearm, “I found my Alpha.”
“Oh god,” she breathes, tracing a finger lightly over the word kid, before jerking it away, “is that why you presented so early?”
He nods somberly, pulling his sleeve back down. Her face is something between pity and disgust— and he gets it, he does— so he just nods to confirm it.
Anger, Alpha fury, blooms across the table and Peter flinches away. A few heads turn to look as MJ stands up, slamming her tray down on the table.
“Alright. Where is he?” Her tone is fierce, and she glares around the cafeteria, almost as if she’s trying to search for the offender amongst the poor surrounding high schoolers. If he weren’t so terrified of his friend he would laugh.
Instead, his instincts overwhelm him and he ducks his head, exposing his throat to try and calm the aggressive Alpha nearby. “He… he’s not in high school, okay?” Everything in him wants to submit to her, but he can’t bring himself to call her Alpha. Not when his Alpha is halfway across the world right now.
She sits back next to him, still seething. Thankfully her scent is losing its strength just as the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch and his own salvation. Peter hops out of his seat and heads towards the trash can, dumping his lunch, and turns to run smack into MJ again.
“Hey, I’m… I’m sorry Peter,” she puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, careful not to corner him, “I can’t stand the thought of someone hurting you, and I’m still trying to get a handle on all the Alpha stuff, you know? I just want you to know… I’m here for you. As a friend, not an Alpha, of course.”
The ache is even more noticeable deep down, and he has to swallow back a sob as it tries to bubble up in his chest. Other kids are brushing past them, already on their way back to class, and he wraps Michelle in a quick hug. They trade scents comfortingly for a moment before he pulls away, afraid of crying in the middle of a public space.
“Of course, MJ,” he gives her a watery smile before backing away, ignoring the way her face falls in disappointment, “I’ll see you after school, okay?”
As he jogs away from her, wiping his eyes discreetly, he hears her agree in a small voice. He hates that he’s running away. He never used to run away, but there’s no way he can face his emotions right now. No way he can think about the loneliness and rejection of having spent his first heat away from his mate.
He should be so lucky.
Later that evening, while he’s on patrol, he’s cut off by Iron Man. Peter lands in a crouch on an apartment building rooftop as the armor blocks his path.
“Halt, young padawan,” Mr. Stark’s augmented voice sounds through the mask, and Peter stands, putting his hands up in surrender. It’s surprising to see Mr. Stark out— in general, not just in Queens— and Peter immediately pulls his mask off.
“M-mr. Stark! What… what are you doing here? I’ve got everything under control, I swear— not that I’m not excited to see you here, or whatever. Just… yeah,” he rubs awkwardly at his arm, shifting on his feet as the Iron Man armor descends in front of him.
With a silent thud, Iron Man lands and Tony immediately steps out, dressed simply in black slacks and a matching black button up. There’s a pair of sunglasses tucked into the collar, but he doesn’t put them on. Yet.
“Calm down, kid, I’m just checking in. Heard down the grapevine that you found your soulmate, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t, I don’t know, spiralling into masses of depression.”
His tone is casual, but Peter knows this is probably beyond awkward— wait.
“Wait… what… what soulmate?” He tilts his head, trying to figure out how Mr. Stark knows.
Peter gets an eye roll for his efforts, “I got a call from King T’Challa, Pete. He said the Star-Spangled Mess was out cold the same week you were benched for your heat. He also said that the good Captain’s arm says ‘Queens’ in bright red letters,” Mr. Stark steps closer, gesturing for Peter’s arm, “You don’t have to, but can I take a look?”
With only a small hesitation, Peter offers up his arm, breath picking up as Mr. Stark peels back the sleeve of his Spider-man suit.
You got heart, kid. Where you from? is printed in a neat scrawl across his skin, slightly inflamed like a healing tattoo and brilliant red. Activated, but unfinished.
“Was it in Germany?” Mr. Stark asks, his voice a low murmur.
Peter can tell he feels guilty, responsible somehow, as his mentor runs his thumb over the first line carefully. Not for the first time, Peter wonders what Mr. Stark’s words say, and if it’s true he has them with Ms. Potts. Mr. Stark pulls the sleeve down, a quick movement that causes Peter’s head to snap up, eyes blinking wide.
“Yeah, Mr. Stark. He kicked me in the chest,” Peter tries to laugh, but it was clearly the wrong thing to say.
Mr. Stark’s scent flares with anger— sweet, with a hint of bitter spice that makes Peter have to sneeze. The other Omega scoffs and puts his hands on his hips, “That fucking bastard,” he curses, and something in Peter’s chest clenches.
Disapproval rests heavily on Peter’s body, sinking into his instincts to please and fix a problem not only with authority, but with a parent.
Peter’s arms close over his chest and he grips his elbows, trying to make himself smaller. A whimper escapes his lips, high and mournful. Peter knows his scent matches it.
He hates that Tony disapproves of his mate. He hates that his mate can’t be here to hold him.
He feels vulnerable, like an open wound. The wind whips around in his hair, pushing and pulling him with ease, and the cold seeps down into his bones. Alone, it whispers, alone and disappointing.
“Peter,” warm arms and a familiar scent surround him, “Peter, c’mon kid. C’mon bambino, I’m sorry.”
Tony strokes his hair as they lay on the roof together. He’s never been able to relax into a scent like this before. As a Beta, Aunt May is comforting and peaceful, but Peter has a hard time sinking into it enough to let her hold him. And he knows how much Tony hates getting close.
He scrambles to get up, to get away.
“S-sorry, Mr. Stark. Didn’t mean to… m’sorry,” he mutters, but Tony holds him tight, making small shushing noises.
“Stop… stop squirming, kid. I swear. Just let me do this.”
And as he’s held tight, Peter slams face first into his emotions. They catch up to him in a rush, shaking through his body, until they burst— and Peter heaves a devastated sob into Tony’s chest.
Tony cradles the back of his head as he wails, “Why did he leave me?”
“I don’t know, bambino.”
Underneath them, the rooftop is hard, unforgiving. Tony anchors him in place as he releases hurt and devastation into the open air. Sobs shake his full body, moving Tony as well. Peter clings tighter.
The image of Steve flashes in his mind, making him cry harder. Perfect Alpha, Captain America, looking at him, taking him in fully, before leaving him for dead. Deciding in a moment that he wasn’t good enough to keep.
He barely registers being picked up, cradled against a cold, hard chest, until he’s flying again.
Peter cracks his eyes open, wiping his nose as Tony jets them back to the Tower. The ground below them is far away, distant and safe. He loves flying, loves soaring through the air, and the freedom it gives him.
This time, he doesn’t need to catch himself from falling.
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i was hoping you picked that one, here is this stucky x reader request
reader walks in on steve and bucky having some fun times but won’t allow her to join since she’s been a brat but makes her watch without touching herself, maybe, once they finish (steve and bucky) they punish her by multiple orgasms until she’s v sensitive, or she just doesn’t get anything at all (up to you)
bad bunny — stucky
warning || very brief smut, punishment, edging??, anal (steve and bucky fuck), short blurb
Bucky had Steve on his hands and knees, facing you from where you sat on the chair in Steve’s room. His cock fucked into the blond relentless, his face beet red with the brunette pounding into his ass. Your wrists had been tied behind your back, sitting on your knees with your thighs spread out over the cushion.
According to the boys, you had been a brat. You had been acting all needy. You were being punished for your behavior. Apparently walking around in your old nurse’s uniform just to get fucked earlier this week had be the first strike. So what if you had distracted them from their work? They had enjoyed spitroasting you.
You had been so needy, dressing up all week in tiny dresses and rubbing your ass against their crotches at the most inconvenient times. You had them riled up and you knew it, so when you came into Steve’s room today with just one of Bucky’s shirts and the panties Steve likes so much, you shouldn’t have been surprised they were already fooling around.
Except when you went to join, the boys had pinned you down and tied you up at punishment. Bucky had said,”Brats don’t get fucked, you’ve been so fucking bad this week, peaches, think it’s time you learned your lesson.”
That is how you ended up here, dripping wet watching Bucky fuck Steve into oblivion. You weren’t even allowed to kiss them and it had you whining like a whore in heat.
“‘m sorry,”You whispered, core throbbing at the sight of Steve moaning out when Bucky pulled on his hair. The blond tufts messy along with his fucked out facial expression.
“That’s too bad, bunny,”Steve moaned out, gasping out when Bucky slammed into him. Bucky hummed in agreement.”Should have behaved...oh, fuck, Buck!”
You whimpered loudly, tears welling up in your eyes at how desperate you were to be touched. They had been going at it for an hour, making you a mess in the seat. Slick dripped down your thighs, cunt gaping at nothing. You needed to be touched, watching the boys fuck and kiss until they were fitting against each other.
“Gonna fill this ass up, you want that, Stevie, show our girl how much she’s missing,”Bucky taunted, making you and Steve moan out loudly.
“Captain, please, Sarge, I need you, please, please, I’ll be so fucking good, I promise!”You cried out just as Bucky spilled inside of Steve, his metal hand gripping his ass in his palm. Steve groaned out Bucky’s name, his cock twitching under him and he quickly moved away from Bucky.
Steve stepped towards you, pumping his cock in his fist before splattering his cum all over your face and chest. The copious amounts of white ropes painted over you, making Bucky smirk.
“Shit, she looks so good like that, all tied up and covered in your cum,”Bucky came up behind Steve, kissing his shoulder,”Just like you look so good with my cum leaking out of you, babe.”
Steve’s attention was on you, smirking as he grabbed your face tightly,”Learned your lesson, have you?”
“Yes, sir, I have, please, just let me cum, I’m begging—“
“What do you say, Buck?”Steve asked leaning back against the brunette,”Think we should let her cum?”
“Maybe tonight,”Bucky replied with a devious smirk,”But right now, no, we gotta meeting to go to. Team building, remember? Think you’re up for a little sparring, peaches?”
“No whining,”Bucky demanded,”Be a good girl and I’ll fuck that little pussy tonight when Steve buries his face in your juices, but only if you behave.”
Needless to say, today was absolute torture.
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