His hair is still damp from the shower, the curled ends tickling her nose. Smells like her shampoo rather than his, a choice she knows he didn't make by mistake. Michelle kisses the back of his neck as she slips her arm around him, hand moving down his chest until she comes to a stop over his heart. He's warm and she knows he's tired. Worn and exhausted. But he came back to her, alive and whole and safe.
Peter's hand finds hers and threads their fingers together. He sighs and, just like that, she can feel the tension leave him. She kisses a spot on his shoulder as she listens as his breathing evens out, feels his heart continuing to beat beneath their joined hands. Legs tangled beneath sheets, his back to her front, and she knows he will find rest tonight.
Safe. Warm. Loved.
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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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Series: Infinite universes
Paring: Loki Odinson x Reader
Summary: Reader didn’t mean to get caught up in Loki’s shenanigans. But now that she’s been apprehended alongside him by the TVA, her plans are going to be irreversibly changed.
Word Count: 1.2K
Warnings: None? I don’t even think there’s swearing...
A/N: I now have a full time job! (technically just an internship but… I’m working 40+ hours a week!) I will continue to write drabbles for this series they just might take me a hot minute.
“Now, you wait right here, and I’ll be right with you! Don’t go anywhere,” The man -well, you still weren’t convinced anyone here was human- the agent had told you.
So you sat.
And sat some more.
A variant. That’s what the video had called you. And then the judge called you that same thing. What the hell did that mean? I mean, you’d already traveled through time once, what was one tiny, unexpected detour going to change that the Avenger’s original plan of going back in time to find the infinity stones and bring back half of the people in the universe wasn’t already changing? And where were the others? You’d left Tony, Scott, Bruce, and Steve in 2012. They would have no clue where you were. The rest of the Avengers were scattered across time and space. Were they here somewhere too? Without the tesseract, the others wouldn’t be able to go back to your original time. You needed to get the tesseract and get back to them, or else all of this would be for nothing. This last ditch effort to save the universe would be pointless. You would have officially failed.
You had questions. So many questions.
But here you were, sitting at a table, in a room, alone.
After what felt like hours of sitting and just thinking, running through countless worst-case scenarios of what was about to happen to you, of all the nightmare situations for both you and your friends, the agent from before finally reappeared.
As he walked through the door and sat down in the chair across the table from yours you smiled at him somewhat nervously, a smile that he thankfully returned.
“Thank you for waiting (Y/N), and I’m sorry about that, we had a few… setbacks with Mr. Laufeyson.” He told you as he straightened out his tie and looked down at the file folder in front of him before looking back up at you, “I’m Agent Mobius, by the way.”
“He escaped?” You guessed.
“He tends to do that. Though people tend to catch him again, at least I assume you did...” You trail off as you glance back up at him, suddenly nervous that they’d managed to lose Loki already.
The agent -Mobius- shrugs non-committally, “Well, less of a capture, it’s really a mutually beneficial agreement.”
You smile slightly, and nod, “He likes those too.”
“You know a lot about Loki, don’t you, (Y/N)?” He asks as he leans his arms on the table.
It’s now your turn to shrug as you cross your arms over your chest, leaning back in your chair slightly, “Yeah, I would hope so, I spent five years of my life dealing with him,” You tell him, “But you already know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, we do,” He admits with a small smile.
“So what do you want from me?” You ask as you bring your left foot up onto your chair and hug your arms around your leg.
“Well, it’s complicated.” Agent Mobius tells you, “But let’s start be getting that collar off of you, I’m sorry, it’s a standard practice but you don’t need it.”
You glance down, “I’d forgotten it was there, honestly,”
Agent Mobius stand up and presses a button on the remote in his hand to release the collar that has strapped itself to your throat.
As he sets the collar down on the table and returns to his seat he speaks again, “I’d like your help taking down a very dangerous variant that’s been taking out our agents and messing with the timeline.”
“And then I can go back?” You ask.
“Of course,” Mobius tells you.
You nod, “So what do you know about the Loki variant you’re hunting?”
Mobius grins, “You’re very smart, (Y/N), you know that right?”
You whipped your head around, nearly falling out of your chair as you quickly dropped the knee that you had been using to prop up your chin back to the floor.
There he was. Again. For all intents and purposes, you’d decided that this Loki, “not-Loki” as you’d taken to calling himself in your head, as a painful reminder that he wasn’t yours, that he didn’t even know who you were, was no longer looking at you with confusion and the general disdain that he tended to wear when around humans- midgardians, now there was something new in his expression as his eyes swept over your form.
This? This is what he fell in love with in this so-called ‘sacred timeline’? Please.
“Alright then, (Y/N), Loki, let’s get the two of you trained up,” Agent Mobius tells the two of you as he claps his hands together and gestures for you both to follow him.
It was actually pretty straightforward. Agent Mobius needed you and Loki to help the TVA apprehend a dangerous variant who was causing them trouble, another Loki variant. After a few hours of ‘training’ with Miss Minutes, the clock mascot who had greeted you when you first arrived in
“This is a colossal waste of time,” Loki grumbles as he crumples up a piece of paper and throws it at Miss Minutes, who begins to shout at him in protest.
“Believe me. I don’t want to be here any more than you do,” You snap at him as the drop the manual you’re skimming onto Mobius’ desk and glare at the young god, “The faster we get through this stupid thing, the sooner we can both get what we want. So stop complaining and just do the work.”
“Oh yes, I’m sure you’re very eager to get back to Midgard,” Loki scoffs, “I’d hate to keep you from your dull meaningless existence.”
“I have bigger things to worry about right now.” You tell Loki with a huff as you push out of your seat and past him. “My world is in shambles. It already ended. And my powers don’t even work here.”
“Hey! Wait!” Loki calls out before you can get more than a few steps away from him, “Who are you?”
“What do you mean?” You ask, your brow furrowing.
“I mean who are you? Why are you so important?” Loki asks. He can see from the way that Agent Mobius looks at you that you’re a bid deal, there’s awe in his gaze, more awe than a normal human would ever warrant, and it’s a more impressed expression than even Loki himself receives.
And then there’s the issue of you in the tapes.
“I-I’m not. I’m just an Avenger.”
“What do you mean? No you’re not, I just fought the Avengers, before this whole thing…” Loki trails off as he glances up at you.
“I didn’t become an avenger until 2018,” You answer slowly, before ending up at the TVA you would never dare admit to this Loki that you’ve traveled in time, but now the rules seem to have changed. “I’m from the future. Well, I’m from your future.”
Loki stared at you long and hard. You want to look away from his intense stare, but you can’t bring yourself to do so.
“You are the woman from the tape. You saw me die.”
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Not to start anything... but Billy giving the reader a collar for their "playtime" 👀
A/N: Thank you so much for starting things 😍 this scenario has been living rent free in my head since I got it, found this gorgeous collar online and knew it had to be it! Hope you enjoy!
"Close your eyes." Billy says as he goes to move from the table where you've just finished dinner, and you do as you're told, the slight thrill of not knowing what he's doing making your belly all tingly.
You can hear him walk to the back of the apartment, possibly near the bathroom, before he comes back, the distinct sound of his shoes against the hardwood floor the only sound you can hear as he comes close.
"Hold out your hands." He breathes in your ear and you jump, the resulting chuckle bringing a heated blush across your face. You know he loves it when he manages to startle you.
"Billy..." You whine as his lips find your hairline.
"Do as you're told, Kitten." He says, the subtle weight behind his words making you shiver.
"Y-yes daddy." You whisper, tongue darting out to wet your drying lips as you do as you're told, the weight of something cool and smooth being placed in your open hands.
"Open." Billy says, kissing your temple again making it difficult to do as he asks but you push your eyes open to see the powder pink leather and rose gold collar resting in your hands.
"Billy!" You gasp, fingers gingerly touching the soft yet sturdy material, everything but the width so pretty and delicate and it takes you a moment to understand why the buckle looks different than ones you've seen before.
"It's a locking-tongue buckle." Billy explains as he takes the collar from your hands, opening it before pulling a matching lock in the shape of a heart from his pocket.
"So that once I put this on you," He slips a hand up to your neck, squeezing softly to feel your pulse flutter against his fingertips. "It's on you until I decide to take it off."
"Fuck, Billy-" You whisper only to have the hold on your neck tightened.
"What have I told you about foul language?" He asks, though he sounds more amused at your breathlessness than disappointed at your words.
"I'm sorry, daddy." You manage to whisper out, the delicious lightheadedness creeping in and making you grin in spite of yourself.
"What am I going to do with you? With such a naughty kitten?" He tuts, biting down softly on your neck, knowing it'll do nothing to ease the rush of heat traveling between your legs.
"Anything, daddy." You gasp around the hold on your throat, hands coming to claw at his as you press your thighs together, yearning for some friction yet finding none.
"Should I finger fuck you right here while you're wearing your pretty new collar? Make you come undone, taking orgasm after orgasm from you until you're begging me to stop?"
"Fu- Yes, please, daddy!" You catch the curse word before it fully leaves your lips and the light click of the lock closing the leather around your neck has you shivering.
As you willingly and eagerly spread your legs for his wandering hand Billy grins to himself, he knew the collar was a good idea.
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The Memory Files
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader
A/N: Ive had the biggest writers block imaginable on top of being super busy with work and preparing to move and also just mental health struggles so here’s a little drabble of me trying to get back into the swing of things, idek what this is but enjoy
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Life could be so incredibly simple sometimes. Even in the most perplexing of moments, the moments where we feel like life is coming at us from seven different angles and we don't know which way us up; it still boils down to the simplest of moments. Fractions of times, fragments of your day; the details you failed to give attention to that would be filed away in your brain as unimportant, collecting dust in a pile of memories you didn't even know you were keeping.
Like the way Wanda applied her lipstick, slowly dragging the deep crimson color until it covered her plump lips in a way that screamed lust and love and longing. Or the way she bit her nails, the edges becoming rugged and black paint chipping off as she gave into the nervous habit she's been told to stop since she was a kid. Or the way she always kept a book on her tableside, an escape from the thoughts in her head, a way to paint a pleasant picture before she drifts into a sleep that she prays to an unknown god is not tormented with pictures from the horrors of her past. Those were the simple moments you forget you noticed, but those weren't all.
The way her pinky finger would interlock with yours, the barest of touch in a crowded room as your teammates were angrily shouting choice words across the meeting. A private moment in a room of faces you were imagining were her. Or the way she would brush strands of hair away from your face and behind your ear when she approached you, hands either drawing back to her own side self consciously or slowly moving to rub down the small of your back in a comforting gesture, a leap of faith. The way she would scrunch her nose when you would compliment her or make a lame failed attempt at a joke that made your heart do a flip in your chest. Those were the simple little moments, the little details filed away for later. You tried to keep those files dusted and in use, labeled under things that mean a lot to me. Maybe life could be a lot sometimes, but it made it a hell of a lot easier to have those small moments to keep you going.
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"Nick Fury is dead."
( Random Anons )
Marked for Contessa Valentina Allegra de Fontaine on assumption of Command of S.H.I.E.L.D. Operations.
Three days and she hadn't heard from him, the Contessa barely moved from her post while monitoring several screens. The amount of espresso mugs scattered on the desk space around her would have been alarming if she didn't know how to clean up after herself. Cold truth, so directly and harshly put--hit her harder than any caffeine. She didn't even have time to deny it, though every instinct told her it's not true and the field agent was just bluffing for a reaction. Everything ached.
"Director. And I heard you." She snapped, scrolling through the database and brown eyes glued to every file. Soaking in the messages he'd left for her, committing them to memory before their permanent deletion. More pieces of him gone in the blink of an eye.
"I need a team, pronto. And Agent Hill." Only then did she get up, refusing to look at anyone, feeling as if she might explode in any moment. A million targets on her back. You know me, and you know how seriously I take the place of S.H.I.E.L.D. in this world.
She'd known him a little too well.
- - -
In his office she finally let it all wash over her before Maria found her. Tears ruining her mascara (she'd fix it before then) as she staggered over to his desk. Hers now. Feeling for a hidden key and popping open an even more hidden cabinet just off to the side. She unscrewed a bottle and brought it directly to her lips, swallowing a long, burning sip. It tasted faintly like him.
She leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes, holding onto the image of the last time she saw him. Dinner on the rooftop.
"Damn you, Nicholas Fury. I loved you. You better come back to life."
Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader
Request: “can you write a tom holland imagine about tom and reader getting married and when the wedding pictures get posted, tom's toxic fans do not takecthe news well and reader and tom decide to do pda in front of them and posts pics of them kissing to piss off the toxic fans?” - @photoshopart15
Word Count: 1.1k
Warnings: talks of toxic fans and anxiety
“Hi there, Mrs. Holland” you heard your husband say as he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your neck.
You were standing in front of the television watching the news story about you both. You both had recently announced your marriage by posting some of your wedding photos. To say you were nervous about how people would respond would be an understatement.
“Why are you still watching this? You know that it doesn’t matter what they say” he said, turning you around to face him. He leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss against your lips. As you both pulled away, you leaned your forehead against his. “I know I shouldn’t care what they say” you said, softly.
He gave you another kiss before telling you, “I love you.”
He gave you a kiss on the forehead before going to take a shower. You turned off the television, knowing you should ignore what the media was saying. You and Tom were happy and that’s all that mattered.
Your phone buzzed with a text from one of your friends. It said, “Hey, love. I’m so sorry about all these posts. Ignore them!”
The text was sent with a screenshot of some tweets on Twitter. You tried to not read the tweets, but you couldn’t stop yourself. They were horrible. Some of Tom’s more toxic fans were outraged that you both had gotten married. They were bashing you both and saying that it was purely a publicity stunt.
You weren’t sad because of what they were saying, but rather felt angry. They had no reason to be so rude. Your marriage had nothing to do with them.
When Tom returned to the living room, he saw you scrolling through Twitter. “Have you seen some of these tweets? Why are people like this?” You asked him, tossing your phone down onto the couch.
“Come on, you need a break. Let’s go get some lunch” he said, pulling you towards the front door. You both slipped on your shoes and then got in the car.
Tom pulled up to your favorite spot to eat lunch. As you sat down at one of the outside tables, Tom grabbed your hand from across the table. “I’m so lucky that you’re my wife” he said, looking into your eyes.
You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter as he looked at you with that adoring look in his eyes. “I love you” you said, a smirk creeping onto your face.
You both had an amazing lunch, just enjoying the alone time. As you were waiting for the check, you saw some people that were taking photos of you both from across the street.
Tom noticed it too. “Just look at me, darling” he told you, interlacing your fingers. You tried to focus on Tom’s eyes, but it was hard when you felt all those people staring at you. Some of them began calling Tom’s name, but he focused on keeping you calm.
He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand and gave you an encouraging smile. “Tom, marry me instead! I’m prettier than she is!” one of the fans yelled from across the street. You felt sick to your stomach.
Tom instantly noticed the worried look on your face. “Come on. Let’s go” he said, leaving some money on the table. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you walked to the car.
“Don’t even worry about them” he said, pressing kisses to your temple. He continued to whisper encouraging thoughts as you both left the restaurant.
You both got to the car, and he walked you to your door. “I love you,” he said, as he pressed you up against the door. He cupped your face and leaned in to kiss you. You felt him smirk against the kiss, and you knew he was doing it to make them all jealous.
You wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him close to you. His lips fit perfectly against yours, and you almost forgot about all the people staring at you.
He pulled away and placed a final peck on your lips. You both into the car, and you saw an almost child-like grin on his face. “Did you like making them all jealous?” You teased, knowing him all too well. He shrugged his shoulders, but you knew what that meant.
“I gotta show them that you’re mine” he said, smirking and pulling out of the parking lot. “Thank you for sticking up for me” you said, looking over at him with a smile on your face. He spent the entire ride with his hand protectively on your thigh.
When you got home, you fell asleep on the couch as Tom went to respond to some work emails.
You woke up on the couch and stretched. You checked your phone to look at the time, but saw a lot of text messages from friends and family. They all were talking about how sweet Tom was and something he posted on Instagram.
You decided to check Instagram to see what everyone was talking about. You saw that Tom had tagged you in some photos. As you scrolled through the photos, you saw various photos starting from the beginning of your relationship all the way to your wedding. They were some of your favorite photos of you both as a couple.
Then, you read the caption:
“For those of you who don’t know, this is my beautiful wife! She is the absolute light of my life, and I have noticed that some of you have been treating her pretty horribly. I love my fans, but anyone being rude to my wife is not a true fan of mine. She means the world to me, and I won’t let anyone tell her she is anything less than amazing”
You could feel the tears start to appear in your eyes. You were so touched by how sweet and genuine his message was. At the end of the day, you always knew that Tom loved you, but it was nice to be reminded that he was always on your side.
You walked into your bedroom and saw him laying down on your bed. “Hi, honey” he said, looking up to meet your eyes. Without saying anything, you walked over to him and laid down on top of him.
“What’s going on?” He asked, chuckling as he wrapped his arms around your frame. You snuggled your face into his chest. “I saw what you posted” you said, your cheeks hurting from smiling.
He placed a kiss on the top of your head. “I love you too,” he said, knowing what you were trying to say.
“I want you to know that I always have your back. You are my number one, okay?” He said, earning a nod from you.
taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @azghedaheda @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @bookfrog242 @buckys-doll17 @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @sunwardsss @studentville-struggles @impossibleapricotlampbat @infjkiki @k-k0129 @lickmymelaninn @hailey-a-s @andreasworlsboring101 @fanofalltheficsx @lukes-orange-beanie @golden-hoax @madisondelstan @spookyparadisesheep @n3ssm0nique @ashwarren32
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The Pink Shirt
Pairing: Tom Holland x reader
Summary: Based off of Tommy’s obsession with the pink shirt from Zara. Also because I bought the damn shirt for myself as well😭
Warnings: none—I lied. Filthy, dirty, kinda funny, horny smut. Tom is down bad and I need to touch some grass.
A/n: I had this idea so now I’m writing it! Wanted to do some free writing and not requests to let myself ease back into my writing mindset:) might help me get out of a writer’s funk! Hope you loves like it💕
(my best boy🥺)
✧───── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *. ☽.* :★. ─────✧
With your eyes still shut with sleep, you stretched your limbs, loosening up your muscles from the long night of slumber. Your arm reaches out to the space beside you, expecting to feel the warm body of your boyfriend. When your hand only comes to contact with the comforter, your eyes slowly peel open. Your head rises from your pillow, looking around for any sign of Tom.
His side of the bed was still fairly warm, the outline of his body slightly imprinted into the sheets. The sunlight from the windows peek into the room, causing you to squint. You plop your head back onto the bed, turning to nuzzle your face into Tom’s pillow. His familiar smell of lavender, warm spices, and hints or cedarwood enter your senses and you can’t help but snuggle deeper into his pillow.
A clang in the kitchen startles you. He’s probably getting his morning tea, you thought to yourself. As much as he hated to admit it, Tom was a morning person. He enjoyed waking up early: he got to watch the sun rise, have a morning workout, and he got the opportunity to watch you peacefully sleep. Some people might find the last part creepy, but he swears it isn’t, he just likes to stare at your face.
Deciding to get a move on for the day, you haul yourself out of bed and reach down to the floor for the first article of clothing you can find. The shirt on the floor happened to be one of Tom’s. It was a new shirt of his that he had bought from Zara while you two were out doing rounds around the city. You had suggested it to him, saying that pink complimented his skin and that he needed more color in his closet. Obviously, he bought the shirt. You hadn’t expected him to immediately wear it, but the moment he wore it, he never wanted to take it off. The infamous pink shirt became a staple in his wardrobe and he was obsessed with it.
You pull the shirt over your head and pair it with some shorts. You continue your morning routine, heading into the connected bathroom and freshening yourself up for the day. When you felt presentable, you walked out the room and headed straight to the kitchen. You heard the quiet murmurs of Tom and the sizzling on the stove. You could hear him make little comments to Tessa and return to humming Kiss Me More by Doja Cat and SZA. The song had been stuck in your head, meaning that it was played almost 24/7 wherever you went. Tom must’ve heard the song from you one too many times and it got stuck in his head as well.
You enter the kitchen, immediate being greeted by Tessa. Your voice goes a pitch higher as you bend down to snuggle her. “Good morning darling!” You say in a babyish voice, petting and pressing kisses to her head. Her tail wags in excitement, happy to have the attention on her.
Tom notices your presence, looking over his shoulder to see you with Tessa. He turns back to the eggs on the stove but quickly does a double take when he sees a flash of pink on you. On you was his favorite pink shirt. He didn’t have a problem with you wearing it, in fact he adored when you wore his clothes. They were a bit oversized on you and made you look so adorable. But something about you wearing this specific shirt did things to him.
Your eyes suddenly align with his, your lips turning up into a wide smile. He reciprocates the action and turns the stove off—his eggs were done anyway. You stand up straight and approach him, wrapping your arms around his bare figure, the only thing on him being his boxers. Your face is flush against his back, lips pressing soft kisses along his spine and shoulders.
“G’mornin sweet girl.” He hums, taking one of your arms and bringing it up to his own lips. He interlocks your fingers with his and places a kiss atop your knuckles. He keeps a hold on your hand while he plates the eggs on your plates.
“Mornin’ bubs.” You smile against his skin, hugging him tighter. Tom chuckles at your hold, he adored it when you were all cuddly so early in the morning. He lifts your hand in the air, twirling you in the process, and pulling you into his chest. You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with the curls that brushed against it.
“You’re up early. I was gonna bring you breakfast in bed and be a really cute boyfriend.” He hums, stroking your back. His eyes drift down your body, admiring the way his pink shirt looks on you. The words “A VERY GOOD START” printed onto the shirt rested along your left breast. It definitely was a very good start to his day—seeing you in his clothes made him weak and a full on simp for you.
“You don’t need to do anything to be a cute boyfriend, you already are bubs.” You scrunch your nose at him and peck his lips. He leans into the kiss, following your lips as they pull away from his. “And I woke up alone and was wondering where you went, that’s why I’m up early.”
“I was hungry as soon as I woke up so I made us some breakfast.” He explains. His hands drift down your figure, fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your legs. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, while his hands grasps onto your bum. A boyish grin forms on his lips as he cheekily squeezes your bum cheeks, “You don’t have to worry about being alone anymore because you found me.”
You playfully roll your eyes at him, “I’m starting to regret finding you, you horny little shit.” You tease him. It was normal for the both of you to poke fun at each other, it was your love language.
Tom licks his lips, eyes scanning your body again. The shirt was big on you, your nipples pebbled against the material, and his scent was radiating off of you. It might have been a shirt but it was his shirt with his scent on it, and it turned on his possessive side.
“But you look so fucking adorable and hot in my shirt.” He pouted, setting you on the counter and letting his fingers sneak under his shirt to touch your skin. “I just want to take you on this counter and lay you down, eat your sweet pussy out, and hear your pretty little moans.” He teasingly trails kisses along your jaw and neck. His fingers grab onto your hips, thumbs digging desperately into your skin.
Your tilt his chin up so that he’s staring up at you. Lust consumes his toffee brown eyes, turning them darker compared to their usual bright tint.
“You know what else you can take on this counter?” You ask him, a smidge of seduction in your tone. Completely enamored by you, Tom just lets out a little hum in response. You lean in closer to his ear, making sure to brush your lips against it.
“The breakfast you just cooked for us. We should eat before it gets cold.” You whisper, your breath fanning against his neck. You feel him shudder against you as goosebumps appear on his neck. He throws his head back, groaning at you.
“You little shit, you’re such a tease.” He grumpily says, pushing himself off the counter away from you. He grabs the plates he prepared for you both and sets them on the table. You laugh, hopping off the counter. You didn’t miss him adjusting himself in his boxers as he awkwardly sat on a stool. You settle beside him and pressed a kiss on his temple. He huffs cutting into his pancake.
“Tommy.” You whine, ducking to reach his lips. He was pouting and moved away from you.
“No, you’re mean.” He grumbles. “But you worked so hard to cook breakfast, I wouldn’t want it to all go cold.”
“That’s what a microwave is for.” He retorts.
“It’s better fresh.” You stab a fork into your eggs and eat it. He remains silent, chewing on his food. You began to feel bad and place your chin on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry for being a tease.” You apologize, watching him for a reaction. You continue, “I’ll let you do whatever you want later.” That catches his attention.
You shrug, “After I digest?”
“How long does it take to digest?” He questions you.
“I don’t know, thirty minutes?” You guess. He tries to stop the small smile on his lips from forming, but fails to. He nods nudging his nose against yours, “Sounds good to me.”
The day passes with ‘discreet’ teasing and ogling from Tom. The both of you couldn’t exactly do anything later because things happened during the day. First, Tom had to log onto zoom to attend a meeting for a new film. Then, you got occupied doing some last minute work for college. While you were consumed with your assignments, Tom’s eyes would drift to where you were. You were sat on the couch, legs on the cushions, as you typed away on your laptop. You wore the shirt all day, even when you turned into the bedroom to take a short nap.
The moment his meeting ended, Tom went straight to your shared bedroom. To his content, you were already awake, scrolling through your phone. The position you were in made him inwardly groan. You were on your stomach with your plump ass sticking up in the air.
“Baby.” He called as he entered the room. Tom carefully clamored over you, straddling you from behind. He ducked his head to kiss the back of your neck, his lips instantly latching onto the spot that he knew riled you up. “Baby, it’s later.” He mumbled against your neck.
“I know, was waiting for you to finish with your meeting.” You reply, turning to meet his lips. He smiles into the kiss, deepening it as he helped you lay on your back. He blindly takes your phone from your hand and puts it to the side, his fingers resuming to play with the material of his shirt. One of your hands cup his face while the other moved to thread through his curls. You pull on the strands, emitting a deep moan from Tom. He let out a sigh of relief when he was able to ground his hardening cock against your clothed core.
“Fuck—was thinking about this all day.” He choked as he bucked his hips against yours. The friction coming from between you two and the sight of you underneath him in his clothes sent waves of arousal straight to his dick.
“Well now you don’t need to think anymore, just do me.” You quickly reply in between his kisses. You weren’t even sure what came out your mouth because all you can feel was yourself being consumed by Tom.
One of his hands dip down to slip past your shorts; what Tom felt made him moan. Under your shorts—technically his boxers—was nothing but your wet cunt. Tom felt himself get harder at the thought of you wearing nothing under his boxers the entire day.
“And you don’t have any fucking panties on.” Tom bit down on your bottom lip, pulling on it a bit with his teeth, before letting it go. “You’ve been a naughty girl all day. Teasing me with the shirt, then at the kitchen this morning, and now I found out that you haven’t been wearing anything under my boxers today.”
“What are you gonna do, Tommy? Punish me?” You taunt him, your hands being pinned to the mattress by one of his own.
“You see I would, but I’m feeling generous today. You look so good in my clothes and now I wanna mark you up even more by being inside you.” He casually shared as his fingers between your legs spread your wetness on your cunt. His thumb expertly yet blindly brushes your clit, making you gasp.
Tom continues his causal conversation with you, “You’d like that won’t you? Marking you up and showing everyone that you’re mine?” Your mouth only gaps in pleasure, your body content with the way his fingers flicked between your folds. All while this is happening, his eyes remain on you. He watched as your eyes threatened to roll back, the way your mouth opened and closed, and how your brows would furrow in pleasure.
Tom tuts, moving so that you’re directly looking at you, “I need words, darling.” A breath releases shakily past your lips, “Yeah.”
“Yeah what?” Tom tilts his head at you, still flicking his fingers below you, one of his fingers teasing your entrance.
“I—I want you to—oh—mark me up.” You stutter out. Tom uses that as confirmation to shove his finger into your hole. You gasp, legs jolting to close, though Tom’s torso avoids them to do so.
Tom cheekily chuckles. “Oh, I know you do.” He responds, mocking you on your little slip up. With how wet you were getting, it wasn’t difficult for him to shove in a second finger. While his fingers pushed in and out of you, his thumb made rough circles on your clit, the perfect move to drive you towards the edge.
“Such a good girl for me.” He hums, craning his head so that he can suck hickies onto your neck. His lips attached to your skin, sucking harshly while his teeth and tongue alternated to bite and smooth the spot. When he felt one side was bruised enough, he moved to the other side of your neck, repeating his motions.
“So responsive, you’re still getting wet.” He whispered. Your toes curled and whimpers escaped your mouth at how good he was making you feel. When Tom felt your walls clenching down on his fingers, he disconnected himself from your neck, admiring the patches of hickies that littered your neck and collarbone.
“All mine.” He muttered. “You gonna cum? I can feel you squeezing down on me, baby. Come on, cum on my fingers.” He nudged your nose with his, quickening his pace. You felt the tension in you building up. When the tension relaxed, you came undone. Squeezing your eyes shut and throwing your head back, giving Tom a view of your bruised neck. He dove right back in, sucking on the part of your throat that vibrated as you released a moan.
When he felt your breathing fall back to pace, he stared at you.
“You alright?” He asked, a hand of his coming up to affectionately move strands of hair that stuck onto your face. The lust in his eyes momentarily disappeared being replaced with concern. You nodded letting out an “mhm”.
And just like that the lust returned to his eyes. He pecked your lips and wiggled his way down towards your soaked heat.
“Good ‘cause we’re just starting.” He grinned. His eyes connected with the grey Calvin Klein boxers you wore. The patch between your legs was far more darker compared to the rest of the article of clothing.
“That’s sexy.” He comments. “Your cum soaking my boxers, God.” Tom shows the slightest bit of roughness by shoving your thighs apart to make way for his head. When he was centimeters away from your cunt, his eyes shift to look up at you, that boyish grin gracing his angelic face. Though right now he was far from angelic, he was like a sin between your legs. A sin you would do over and over again.
He chuckles to himself and kisses your pussy through the boxers. You knew this was payback for you teasing him earlier in the day. You found your hips lifting from the mattress, wanting to get more contact from Tom. His response was to only slam your hips back down, keeping his hands there to pin them to the bed.
Your legs widen, allowing all of him to be flush against you. Biting down on your lip, your hands reach down to the top of Tom’s head to grasp onto his hair.
“Tom.” You whine. Tom releases a low moan, rutting his crotch against the mattress to relieve his own arousal.
“I know, I know.” His tongue swipes his lips, tasting a hint of you on them. He takes his boxers off you and tosses them to the floor. His eyes hungrily connect with your core.
The heat forming between you and Tom was overwhelming you, causing you to sweat. You move to take off your (Tom’s) shirt but it’s suddenly yanked back down. You look at Tom in shock to see his eyes on you, “Keep the fucking shirt on.” You comply, leaving the shirt alone.
Tom turns his attention back to your slit and how it glistened with your wetness. Before he can do anything, he pulls his shirt off, and throws it over his shoulder. Without any warning, he dives into your heat. You let out a high pitched moan, your thighs clenching, and your eyes rolling back.
“Shit, Tom.” You moan as his mouth suctions itself onto your center. It was wet and sloppy, all you felt was his mouth and tongue attacking your pussy. He moans in content at the sounds you made for him, the vibrations of his moan buzzed against your clit. You whine while your hands grasp onto his curls to bring him closer to you.
“Taste so good for me. You’re such a good girl for me, (y/n).” He praises you, sloppily kissing your heat. His fingers split your folds apart, a string of your arousal forming between the space. Tom flicks his tongue, teasing your hole.
“Can you give me another one, love?” He questions you, the pad of his thumb making rough circles on your clit.
“Y—yeah.” You stammered, features contorting in pleasure.
“Yeah? I know you can, baby.” He replaces his thumb with his mouth and began to suck on your clit. His fingers were back inside you, pumping in and out repeatedly. The combination of his mouth and rough fingers caused white flashes to appear in your vision. You felt like you were blanking out, drunk on the euphoric pleasure Tom was giving you. He knew every little thing that riled you up and took you apart—he was like a pro when it came to making you feel good.
“God, Tom I’m close.” You clamp down on his fingers, your legs wrapping around his waist. Tom picks up the pace of his tongue, adding a hint of his teeth to graze at your sensitive bud.
“C’mon darling, cum all over my face, give me another one.” His words vibrate against your clit again. With the help of his tongue and fingers, your back was arching off the mattress, a loud cry tumbling off your lips. Your legs tightened around him as you came all over him. Gasping, you pried him off your core, the sensations of your orgasm making you far too sensitive. Your chest heaves, trying to catch your breath after the blissful moment.
“That’s my girl.” He mumbles, easing away from your center with your cum dripping down his chin. A proud grin is on his lips. You stare at him through half shut eyes, “Don’t get cocky on me.”
Tom licks his lips and uses the back of his hand to wipe your cum from his face.
“I didn’t say anything, lovey.” He innocently retorts, allowing you to come down from your high. Tom lifts your shirt to press kisses along your hipbones and stomach.
“You had that stupid look, you cocky shit.” You knew he was proud at the fact that he was the reason to why you were so blissed out. You may have had flushed cheeks, hair sticking to your face, and sweating—but he thought you looked absolutely stunning beneath him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He hums nonchalantly, pushing your shirt to rest above your breasts. He momentarily stares at your erected nipples, almost boyishly. That glint of playfulness shining in his eyes.
“Come to daddy.” He says before ducking to suck on one of your nipples. You scrunch your face at him prying him off you. Tom objects, shooting you a look.
“You did not just fucking say that.”
“I did, now let me suck on them titties.” He snickers, can’t taking himself serious. You burst out laughing, “You’re killing the mood.”
He shakes his head, bouncing a bit, “Fine, sorry, sorry.” He pecks your lips and goes back to flicking his tongue on each of your nipples. You feel his hard on bumping against you, making your cunt squeeze down on thin air.
“Tom, you’re so hard.” Your hand rubs him through his boxers, helping him relieve himself of some tension. The action only causes Tom to jut his hips onto your hand.
“Thank you, baby.” He groans, pressing his forehead in between your breasts. You continue to rub him, finding the head of his cock and running your thumb past his tip. He suddenly snatches your hand from him, startling you.
He kisses your wrist, “Nothing, sorry. I just won’t last long if you keep doing that. I need to be in you.” You nod, spreading your legs wider for him to get comfortable. Tom shimmies out his boxers, pulling out his length. It was quite long, with the veins almost popping out, and his tip red hot. Tom hissed when the air met his hard on.
You took some of your slick, gathering it on your hand, and used it as lube for Tom’s dick. He lines himself with your entrance and looks at you.
“You’re on the pill right?”
“Yup, I am.” You confirm, squeezing his bicep. Tom nods, interlocking one of your hands with his. The both of you sigh in relief once he enters you. The veins of his cock brush against your walls, his length completely filling you up.
“So fucking tight.” Tom breathes out, stilling so you can get used to him. You kiss his jaw, giving him the ‘ok’ to move. He pulls out then snaps his hips back into yours, knocking the breath right out of you.
He grabs one of your hands and rests his forehead against yours as his thrusts begin to grow harder and faster. “Yeah—won’t last long.”
“It’s ok, keep going Tommy.” You coax him, your free hand scratching at his back, spurring him on. Tom stills, leaning back to rest on his haunches. His hands grab onto your ankles, pushing your legs back until your knees touch your stomach.
“Keep these open for me, yeah?” He realigns himself with your entrance again. This time when he enters, he reaches deeper into you, hitting that spot that pushes you closer to becoming wrecked. Your moans are now bouncing off the walls; if Harry were home, the poor boy would have been mortified.
Tom smirks down at you, “That feels good doesn’t it, lovey?” As he says this his hand gently cradles your jaw, forcing you to look at him.
“You make me feel so good, Tommy.” You whimper, turning your head to kiss his palm. “Only you.”
Tom’s thumb glides past your lip before slipping it into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his digit, getting it wet. He takes his thumb from your mouth and brings it back to your clit. His touch makes you jolt, your sensitive bud already overstimulated from your previous orgasms.
“I’m close, baby.” He warns you, his thrusts becoming erratic. His hips were moving sloppily, but he was still hitting your spot. You decide to help him out and replace his hand with yours on your clit.
“I fucking love you, fuck.” You groan. Tom connects his lips with yours, wanting to be as close to you as possible. With both his hands free, he angled his hips a certain way and began to rail into you, fucking you into the mattress.
“Baby, I’m cumming.” He whimpers against your lips. “Me too, Tommy. Cum in me.” You urge him, trailing wet kisses along the side of his face. The both of you come undone at the same time, entangled with each other’s limbs. Strings of white releases from Tom and coats your walls while mixing with your release. Tom’s face is nuzzled into your neck, while yours rests above his curls. He leans his weight onto you, your chests heaving and bodies twitching from the aftershocks.
Tom was the first to move, coming out from the crevice of your neck. He kisses you multiple times with whispers of “I love you’s”.
“I think you look really good in my clothes.” He whispers, the softest smile forming on his features, his eyes gazing at you.
You snort, motioning to the sticky mess between the two of you, “Really? I didn’t notice.” The two of your burst out laughing, stuck in your cozy little bubble.
The moment was interrupted by heavy knocking coming from the door, “WILL ONE OF YOU PLEASE TAKE ME TO CHURCH? MY EARS HAVE BEEN SINNED UPON.”
Tom groaned, “HARRY FUCK OFF!”
*if there’s a line through your url, Tumblr won’t let me tag you:( *
Tom Holland Tags ↴
↪︎ @lovableparker @aprettyfleur @sunwardsss @dummiesshort @thotforcriminalminds @cuddlykoala101 @itstaskeen @whoslili @white-wolf1940 @tomsirishgirlx @roseke @kaylans-imagines @spideyspeaches @slut-for-steve-rogers
General Tags (besties) ↴
↪︎ @moonlight-onyx @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @thegirlwiththediary @agustdowney @bi-lmg @rqmanoff @sesamepancakes @stardustofreading @dracoswhore007 @alyssathesoftie @amourtentiaa @ifyouknewhowmiserylovedme @kaitieskidmore1 @6r4cie
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PROMPTS FOR REQUESTS - [ SOME 18+ ]
You do not have to include something from this list to request anything. But these lists include prompts you can send in as a request for a Bucky oneshot / drabble / headcanon :) PLEASE FOLLOW MY RULES FOR REQUESTS
RULES - 1. Be respectful 2. If you send in a request I will get it out as soon as possible. Please be patient with me. Do not harass me to do your request, it will just make me stressed and then I will lose motivation 3. Send me your slutty thoughts 4. I write for fem!reader and gn!reader 5. I will write smut, and fluff. I will not write angst because I don’t like sad shit plus i’m horrible at it. I will also not write non/dub-con ( daddy kink is okay as long as it doesn't include age regression ) 6. There are lines that I will not cross and that includes water-sports, incest, rape, cheating, racism, and homophobia/transphobia. Any asks including any of these will be ignored and deleted 7. If you have any questions for me send them in 8. Requests you send in don’t have to include things from the lists
PROMPT LISTS -
List #1 - This list includes fluff prompts / scenarios
List #2 - This list includes au / tropes / prompts ( you can send in one of each how ever many you would like )
List #3 - This list includes many many prompts of fluff and anything else really
List #4 - This list includes fluff and general prompts
List #5 - This list includes fluff and general prompts
List #6 - This list includes fluff and smut
List #7 - This list includes fluff prompts / situation
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My main masterlist
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Love to Last the Ages
Time traveller Noir Tony falls in love with Viking Warrior Steafán Rogers
For the @stevetonygames prompt “Time Travel” G4]
(Link to Card)
Square: Time Travel [G4]
Worktype: Moodboard + Drabble
Universe: Marvel Noir
Major Tags: Time Traveller AU, Archaeologist Tony Stark, Viking Steve Rogers,
[+ Bonus Drabble]
Tony loves history. Always has.
As a child, he could always find an escape in history books. Daydreaming about the battles. The kings and knights. Imagining walking through the ancient cities.
Leaving home as soon as he was able, he earned several doctorates and went out into the field.
On a site he was supervising, he uncovered an artefact that allowed him to travel through time. Adventures he dreamed of as a child, now possible.
One of his travels leads him to cross paths with the warrior Steafán Rogers. They haven't left each other's sides since, adventuring together through time.
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13 k Followers 'Lucky #13' Celebration masterlist
Here is the masterlist for the drabbles for my 13 k ‘Lucky #13′ Followers Celebration. The winner for the full one-shots is @moosekateer13. Congratulations again. I already outlined the story;)
I will publish the drabbles in random order. The first will drop today and I’ll try to post one drabble per day from now on.
Credit for the beautiful text divider goes to @firefly-graphics
Tainted little angel
Summary: Brats need to be punished.
Pairing: Demon!Dean x Nephilim!Reader; Dean x Nephilim!Reader
Warnings: roleplay, mentions of torture (nothing happens), fingering, oral (fem rec), smut, unprotected sex, the reader is a brat, and insatiable, roleplay
Square filled: Angel & Free Space (demon!Dean)
A/N: Sequel to: Best kind of torture
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Here We Meet Again
Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers
Pairings: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Universe: Marvel Noir
Major Tags: Identity Reveal, Artist Steve Rogers, World War II, Drabble
Summery: Tony had imagined many people under the mask, but not him...
For the @cap-ironman Universe Medley, “Marvel Noir” Month
Read below or on AO3 >HERE<
"This is what I was thinking," Captain America says, handing the map, quickly scribbled onto a torn bit of fabric, over to Tony.
All thoughts of the fast-approaching battle flea his mind as he looks at line work.
Tony's head spins, a million thoughts rushing through his mind.
It wasn't possible... He couldn't be...
But he recognised that line work. Recognized all the little tell-tale flushes. The familiar style.
It couldn't be true. The likelihood was slim at best. However...
Tony turns to Captain America, questions burning his tongue.
But he needn't ask, the man's face says it all.
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Drabble - First date with Peter Maximoff
Requested by @theoriginaldoll87: Can you do some drabbles or headcannons of a first date with Peter Maximoff please?
A/N: Drabbles are considered 100 words but I wanted to do it a bit longer! Sorry it’s short but it is a drabble after all!
New High Score: 9000
“Good luck next time, Maximoff!” As soon as you ruffled his silver locks, Peter tried his best to make it look somewhat presentable. A pout on his face since you beat him at Pac-Man, you couldn’t help but laugh.
“I let you win, being the gentleman I am.” You said nothing, but you could tell he was lying, kissing Peter's cheek softly, his cheeks soon turned a dark shade of red.
“Come on.” You spoke as you pulled him to the next machine in the arcade. “Let’s see if I can beat you again.”
“Not a chance.” Shaking his head, Peter practically skipped over to the next machine with you. Blushing when you squeezed his hand, Peter spoke again. “Bet you can’t defeat me on Defender, that is my shit!”
You loved the excitement on his face, Peter was such a video game enthusiast that it was adorable the way he was around the machines. It was like he was seeing old friends once again.
“You said that about Pac-Man.” The teasing tone in your voice made Peter playfully narrow his eyes at you, which only made you laugh. “You did!”
“Guess no kisses for you.” Peter teases as he showed you how to play the game, even though you already knew how to do so. “Now it’s your turn.”
Moving to take his place, Peter stayed behind you and tried to distract you with all sorts of noises and funny faces. Anything to stop you from beating his high score.
As first dates go, this was the best one yet. But Peter didn’t keep his word on there being no kisses that night.
He couldn’t help himself.
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A/N: I cannot stand this man wearing blue sweaters and looking this gorgeous! So unfair. I had to do something about it.
Gif credits - @thehumming6ird
Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader
Warnings: None. Floofies.
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"Okay, could you stop stealing all my jumpers?"
You pretended to hide under the book you were reading to avoid facing Tom who was taking long determined strides towards the bedroom, your eyes shut as realisation set in.
The sweater you had pulled on was particularly set aside for a series of press events that had been lined up for the day.
The mattress dipped on your left before two slender fingers pried the book away to reveal your face.
“I forgot I’m sorry.”
There was only a half-truth to what you’d said.
Opening your eyes slowly, you found two baby blues staring back at your, crinkled at the corners as he smiled softly.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’d never lie…”
Hiding your grin, you sat up against the headboard.
“Why don’t you go pick another one from your prized collection? It’s not like this is only one you have.”
“And is this the first one you’ve stolen?”
Sliding his hands along your sides, he let his blue knit sweater roll up with it. It wasn’t the cold you felt that sent shivers down your spine but the feather-light, teasing caresses of your boyfriend.
You stopped him, as hard as it was to do so, and pushed away and hopped off the bed, holding a hand up in accusation.
“You can’t persuade me with your charms here. It’s unfair.”
There was that cocky, self-assured smirk you associated with the beloved character he played on-screen. You simply shook your head which led to him sighing in defeat.
“Maybe I’ll show up on the video shirtless.”
“I wouldn’t object to that. Neither would the millions of people awaiting your presence, your Highness.”
Shrugging matter-of-factly, you made a beeline towards the bathroom, Tom following suit before you slammed the door shut on his face.
“I’m surrendering my favourite piece of clothing for your sake.” You called out from inside, reopening the door before handing the sweater out through the tiny crack you’d left.
“How very generous you are, my Lady. Would you come out now so I can reward you properly?”
You chuckled, contemplating whether to walk out in your current state of undress and disrupt his entire schedule or to save the teasing for later.
The latter seeming delectably exciting.
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Nomad!Rogers in a bar & reader recognizing him
OH fuck. you didn’t specify whether dark or regular so… i went angsty 😅
It’s not him.
It can’t be.
You’ve done this before, stared into the faces of strangers and willed them to be him, but it never is. It’s never him, always some poor confused man who bears only a passing resemblance at best to the one you lost. It doesn’t hurt less the more it happens.
And it’s never him.
But this time…the way the smile spreads slow across his face as he laughs at something someone says—you note, though, that it doesn’t reach his eyes—and you know. You’ve been so many places, and he promised—he promised—he would come back for you. Only he hasn’t, and it’s been a whole year, and you haven’t heard a thing. So you’ve wallowed in the silence until now.
It’s like glass in your veins just to see him, but you’re just drunk enough to let your gaze linger. He’s grown his hair out, and the beard—God, the beard—is new, but you would know him anywhere. His hands tense on the table, and your eyes travel upwards only to meet his own.
He’s looking at you. And you know he sees you, there’s no point in pretending he doesn’t. You don’t say a word, finishing your drink in silence as you turn back to the bar. You’ve never been here before, so perhaps that’s why his presence is such cruel, cutting irony. When you’re done, you pay your tab and rise from the stool, grabbing your purse. You leave a tip under the glass and make your way to the exit.
Five steps out of the door and you hear him, your name on his breath and for the first time since you saw him, tears actually begin to gather in your eyes. You don’t look back, and you try to keep walking, but a hand encircles your wrist, jerking you back.
“Let go!” you shove at him. “Let go.”
“No. You’re drunk.”
“So? You don’t get to… to just appear and start giving me orders. I’m not one of your soldiers, Captain!” you spit his title at him like a curse, and he winces. “Though maybe if I was you wouldn’t have gone completely dark on me.”
“I didn‘t have a choice! I know S.H.I.E.L.D contacted you. Questioned you. Monitored you. If I’d… If they thought I’d been in contact…Hell, if they’re watching now, do you know what could happen?” his voice breaks as he cups your cheeks with his large hands, thumbs running over your cheeks. He presses his forehead to yours and releases your wrist in favor of wrapping his arms around you. It’s been too long, but the feeling is all too familiar, and comes back too easily.
And then, suddenly you’re crying, fat tears rolling in hot trails down your cheeks, over his fingers and down your chest. It’s uncontrollable and ugly, and he presses your face you his shoulder as you sob. It hurts to leave him, hurts to have him back—you wonder if there’s a part of Steve that won’t leave you unscathed. You’re not foolish enough to let yourself believe even for a second that you‘d deny him.
He’s whispering soothing words to you through your hair, how much he’s missed you, how much he wanted to see you, how badly he wanted to be with you all this time.
“I hated you,” you murmur as he leans back against the wall of the alleyway outside the bar. He’s still holding you, and you don’t think he has any intention of letting go. You don’t really want him to. “I think I still hate you, a little.” you don’t like that it’s true, that the niggling feeling of doubt is still worming around in your stomach.
“I’ll make it right.” his hold on you tightens just a little. “I’ll find a way to make it right.”
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ultimatum, bucky barnes
— (fem!avenger!reader x tfatws!bucky)
summary; ❝Bucky had almost succeeded in ruefully completing his list of amends. He had almost took to grasping at a form of unintended peace before an all too familiarly fronted name had spilt it’s blood across his relationship. A story in which secrets and lies have piled themselves up and unknowingly lead to an unimaginable form of heartache -- a choice.❞
warnings; fluff, angst, ANGST, mentions of cheating, coarse language, verbal arguments, miscommunication, minor mentions of previous character deaths, idiots in love, flashback scenes, kissing, making out, mwah.
word count; 6381
a/n; hii! my prompt for this fic was the chain by fleetwood mac (i lov this song). this was not supposed to be so damn long but, i always seem to get carried away. here is my submission for @edenslibrary @buckyblues ‘s 4k writing challenge! congratulations you gorgeous human, you deserve the world <3 p.s, the timeline is kinda weird and all over the place ; it’s set during tfatws, 2024, a year after endgame. they live in the avengers tower.
Talking is just a nervous habit.
It is but a semblance of silly fumbles, and exhausting customs – all glum and lonely and sealed off by a stretch of scotch tape. It is a commonly protruding mechanism, a well-oiled machine made up of trembling hands and shaky whispers.
She thought too much, pointless questions mingled with a lingering sense of curiosity – and when she thought, she spoke. She babbled and professed. Divulged and shared. She would stupidly rant on about the most mundane things – an excessive talker by definition. Y/N so wished that she could write the way she spoke, the way she worried; incessantly, obsessively, maddeningly.
She would write herself into an unsettling amount of manuscripts, full of uncaused breakdowns and emotive essays. She would write trilogy after trilogy, create document after document, text after text, and she would surely write about Bucky Barnes more than she should – more than she would want to.
She was genuine, and fair and infuriatingly passionate, but she was not an idiot.
She sat awake, rigid red eyes catatonically glued to the veiling fog that had been gently floating above the rim of her mug. Her coffee was hot – too hot, but she could not be bothered to let it cool. Her tongue was burnt, tastebuds withered and afraid as she watched the sun rise just above the horizon. The wind was loud and angry, threateningly blowing up against the glass panes of the windows that lined the terrace.
He had been lying to her – compulsively.
Had he willingly confessed to withholding the truth from her? No. Was she still ridiculously sure of this hurtful fact? Yes.
Her knees had been pulled up to her chest, the pads of her feet gently rocking her body back and forth as she tried to still her mind.
Where was he? It was 4 o’clock in the fucking morning, and her boyfriend was still nowhere to be found. She was angry and confused, but above all she was worried. Something had to have gone wrong, right?
“Good morning, agent Y/L/N.”
The electronic voice of the A.I shook her from her stupendous daze and jarred her head.
“Good morning, Friday,” she said back, carefully going to retract the steaming cup of coffee away from her mouth. Just as she was about to interrogate the mechanical aid on the breach of Bucky’s whereabouts, the door to the communal living room swung open.
Before the darkened figure could have fully waltzed himself into the flickering halo of light provided to him by the gawky night lamp, Y/N had jumped to her feet, tugging the drawstrings of her pajama pants against each other.
“Where have you been?” She asked urgently, barely aware of the guilty grimace that had taken to decorating the side of the man’s jaw.
Bucky stood there, in the middle of the hallway, his freshly cropped hair damp and curly.
“Training,” he replied gruffly, lividly avoiding her gaze.
She huffed, indecently folding her arms across her chest and looping her fingers around the hem of her shirt, “At four in the morning?”
“At whatever damn time I please.” Ouch. She froze as if he had struck her, the pain grit tone cutting though her skin like a handful of sandy pebbles against a consistently flat tire. “What?”
Bucky turned towards her at the hoarse tamper in her throat, his split lip shining. Their eyes met for no longer than a second – a blissfully reckless moment – before he sullenly dug the heel of his boot into the floor and hurriedly pivoted away towards their room, “I’m tired.” He amended quietly, “we’ll talk tomorrow,” and with that, he had soundlessly slipped himself through the gaps of her fisted fingers yet again.
“You can’t just shut me out, Bucky! You can’t, I won’t let you.”
“I’m not shutting you out.” He silenced, tossing her a half-assed smile, “Good night.”
She couldn’t do it. She could not stand by him in the midst of a fight that he could not have even been bothered to inform her about, “Goodbye.”
He stiffened, “What do you mean, goodbye?” His fidgets were anxious, but he decidedly chose to remain with his sweat-slicked back turned to her.
“I’m leaving,” Bucky felt the air concave his chest, “I need some space, some air – I’ll call Sam.”
He knew, that in that moment, he had absolutely no right to feel so unabashedly betrayed, but the loud coherent buzz of his friend’s name made him snap, “You can’t just leave!” He was yelling now, face red and plashed.
“God, Bucky. What the fuck do you want from me?” She cried back, her hands going up to grip at her hairline, “I can’t keep doing this with you!”
“Doing what?” He knew what she meant; he wasn’t delirious. Y/N felt the back of her knees meet the couch, and she hesitantly went to slide her back to it.
“This back-and-forth thing that we have going on! I can’t do it; I don’t have it in me, not anymore.”
She would not allow for his arrogance to drown her.
He chaffed, beyond annoyed, “I see. So, what then? This is what you’re gonna do? You’re just gonna leave? You’re just gonna walk out that damned door like a coward?”
“You have no right!”
“I have no right?”
“No, you don’t,” her rage was simmering, boiling up to a distasteful fleck of fuel. “This is toxic, Bucky. You won’t even tell me what’s wrong! What kind of trust is this bond built upon? This chain of – I don’t even know, lies?”
“You’re not leaving.”
She loved him, she truly did. She loved him so much that it hurt – burned. It hurt her to know that she was going to end up inevitably losing him as well. First Natasha, then Tony, then Steve, and now him.
She loved him to the ends of the world, but she also knew that people were not homes. They were not the pedestals of Olympus, and they were not an unfathomable relic. They were flesh and bone.
She glared at him, saltwater staining at the edges of her looking glass, “Then give me a reason to stay. Please.”
He mellowed out at the tragically crafted choice that grew beneath them, genuinely on the verge of a shattered heart, “I can’t.”
8 years ago.
“Listen, Buck,” Steve encouraged politely, steadily guiding Bucky through the front gates of the tower. “Just be yourself and smile every once in a while. You'll be fine.” Of course, Steve Rogers would assume that. He was perfectly immortalized and adored – he could do no wrong. Bucky though, he could do a lot of wrong. Plenty.
Steve grimaced at Bucky’s lack of response, clapping a confrontational hand over his shoulder, “Hey, c’mon. You trust me, right?”
There was no hesitation in his reply, “I do.”
“Good, then you’ve got nothing to worry about. Let’s go.” The accords ordeal had been recently absolved, much to Tony’s relished dismay. After the two soldiers had left him stranded in Siberia, half-beaten to the pulp and frozen, he had had no intention of ever seeing them again – ever.
Steve had received a conditional pardon, under the impressionable ask that Bucky be put through an extensive recovery program. They had both been stationed to move into the avenger’s tower – Tony’s home – and there was no way that the man who had rightfully proclaimed himself as earth’s best defender was anywhere near relieved about this lonesome solution.
Bucky guardedly followed Steve through the labyrinth of puzzled hallways as he led them towards the conjoint living quarters.
“That’s 5, Wilson, step back.” A loud guffaw of laughter and mocked up insults followed Tony’s vent. His words were decipherable – rich and entitled – so it was easy for Bucky to tie down who had said what.
“Alright, boys,” crooned a female voice, “my turn.” Her say was new, and Bucky near paled at the sheer amount of confidence that stewed deep within her composure – almost identical to Tony’s.
“What’s going on in there?” Bucky implored, head cocking to the left as he regarded his friend with a curious look.
Steve shrugged half-heartedly; his blonde hair mussed. “Who knows? I haven’t been out here since before the accords.” The two of them swiftly snuck themselves into the room and were greeted by a ridiculously domestic family-like portrait.
Tony Stark was standing immutably by the burnished coffee table that was summed up at center of the room, a pretty redhead – whom he had recently come to know as Natasha Romanoff – was perched on the edge of the leather bound couch by his shoulder and Sam ‘the falcon’ Wilson was defeatedly making his way over to join them as they watched the fourth member of their little game pull herself up onto the marbled counter. Her legs were neatly folded over each other – criss cross apple sauce – and her eyes were sparkling with mischief.
“Oh, come on! There’s no way that you can top that.” He whined, throwing the grinning girl a terribly forced sneer.
“Try me.” She mused, beckoning for Tony to bring it on.
Utterly confused, Steve and Bucky simply watched in anticipation as to what the hell these four so called ‘heroes’ were playing at.
Natasha’s smile widened as she watched Tony pluck a grape out of the bowl that she had been holding, and joking flick his wrist around, “You ready, snippy?”
The girl in question laughed, wiggling her eyebrows, “Always.”
Tony tossed the grape up into the air, watching expectantly as she dropped her mouth open and easily caught it on her tongue. “One.” Natasha counted.
Tony went for another, but Sam gleefully slapped his arm away from the bowl. He groggily proceeded to grab a piece of fruit himself and effortlessly let it zip through the air. She caught it again.
Grape after grape, she successfully enraptured every single one.
Sam gaped at her with wide brown eyes as Natasha pumped a fist through the air, “I knew she would win.” She glowered smugly.
“Whatever.” Sam grunted.
“It’s not my fault that a measly grape beat you in the field of aerodynamics.” She teased, gracefully edging her hips off the counter, and letting her bare feet hit the floor. Sam childishly stuck his tongue out at her before finally taking notice of the two newly arrived additions.
“Oh, hey Cap –”
At his all too irregularly blunt greeting, Tony’s head nearly spun off his shoulders like a riddled beyblade, only to be beaten by the chillingly disapproving scowl that had doused the mystery girl’s face.
“Hey,” Steve replied, barely above whisper. His nervous gaze was desperately attempting to become adjacent to Tony’s, wanting nothing more than to tell him how unutterably sorry he was.
“Well, if it isn’t thing one and thing two,” she muttered lowly, protectively inching herself to Tony’s side. Who the hell was she, and why the hell was she – of all people – so upset with them?
“Agent, Y/L/N.” Steve acknowledged tersely, failing miserably in maintaining the intense staring match that she had initiated.
“Good to know that you still remember my name.” She hummed, turning her fully undivided attention towards Bucky, who was still awkwardly glaring at the ground. “Sergeant Barnes.”
“Ma’am,” he looked up at her, calculatingly taking a note of the way that her lips twitched up in a mild form of amusement at his formalities. Her face was so pretty – so delicate – that she nearly had him smiling back.
“We’re sorry for barging in,” Steve piped up, gladly shifting the gears away from the apprehensively awaiting train-wreck, “we should get going.”
“Yeah. You should.” Tony agreed, joylessly stalking away from their comically short interaction, accompanied devotedly by agent Y/L/N. Steve looked dejected – absolutely crestfallen – at Tony’s leave, but warily allowed for Natasha to whisk him away.
“So, you three,” she smiled grimly, using her right hand to flag out the area that withheld each of their rooms, “Steve, your room is the first door to the left, and then both Wilson and Barnes are positioned right across the hall from you. You just saw the kitchen, and you each have your own bathroom,” She paused, “Any questions?”
Bucky felt the retched burn of his previous confusion tingle it’s way up his throat like a gagging sense of word-vomit, and before he could stop himself, he posed, “Who was that girl?” Sam instantly smirked at his outward eagerness, while Steve and Natasha simply looked apologetic.
“That was Y/N,” Steve started, “she was recruited by Stark about a year before we found you in Romania. His prized pupil.”
“Yeah, she’s crazy talented,” Natasha added, “She’s got absolutely perfect aim and an even more perfect brain.”
“That’s why – the grapes.” Bucky recalled, and understanding flowing through him, “she doesn’t like me.” He murmured suddenly; the pernicious reminder stinging at his eyes.
“No, Buck,” Steve corrected, “she doesn’t like us as a whole – any of us.” Well, that didn’t make any sense, did it?
Natasha looked almost pained as she comfortingly set a hand on his arm, “Long story short, her and Steve were close, but not closer than she was with Tony.”
“I misguidedly asked for her help when I was planning on refusing the accords, but you know – she sided with Tony, so it didn’t really matter. I don’t blame her,” he reiterated honestly, “He’s like her father. She picked him over me, just like I picked you over them.”
“Was she at the airport?” Bucky asked, his blood clotting.
Natasha winced, “Yeah, she was actually there as our sniper, she would have killed you both had Tony not called it off. You should be grateful for that by the way, She doesn’t miss.”
Steve’s eyes were sad as he nodded along to whatever Natasha had been explaining, “And then after all of that we -”
“- We left him there. We just left him there.”
Bucky’s lies had initially started off as harmless.
Little, ‘I’m fine’s’ here and there whenever he didn’t want her to worry, because he knew that it was in her nature to do so. Simple, ‘they’re really not that bad’ whenever she took to lightly scalding her all too widely adored chocolate chip cookies. Easy, ‘everything will turn out okay’s’ whenever she was sad and fragile beneath his embrace.
His lies had been harmless until they weren’t.
He had a list. A very prim and proper list, decked out nicely across the pages of Steve’s old notebook.
Oh, how he missed Steve. He missed him everyday. He also knew that Steve would ceaselessly tell him that he was being an absolute moron for planning on destroying the best thing that had ever happened to him.
As much as he knew that Steve would scold him, it didn’t matter; he had his list, and he knew it well. His file was nearly complete, the littered names crossed off and obliterated by a finely started graphite scratch. Thinly processed lead amongst a roughened sheet of paper.
He had been making amends – real, true, soul-crushing amends. He had been content with his progress – genuinely proud of his achievements – until he had reread that godforsaken list. He had loyally reread the precious piece of wooden foil only to be pummeled to the ground by the tenacious force of a single name.
A last name.
So, he lied.
He lied, and he deceived, and he hid. What else could he have done? How the hell was he supposed to tell her that he had been the one to kill her double? Her former second marksman – her partner in crime.
He tried to play it off as a semi-believable case of sleep deprivation, but she noticed – of course she had noticed. Y/N and her intricately woven brain.
Bucky was laying awake, his blue eyes glued lawfully to the bubbly popcorn ceiling hung above the mattress. His heart hurt at the anguished look that he had plastered across her cheeks. His breath faltered at the knowledge of the remorseful tears that she had shed the second he had left the room.
She had left.
She had left him because he had hurt her.
He threw himself off the bed in a current, pressingly scouring around his room for a jacket before exigently stuffing himself into the first pair sweatpants he could find. He had let her leave, he –
His thoughts were foggy, his memory falsified, but he could not care less. Bucky ran through the mirrored tower of lolling corridors, mumbling soft ‘sorry’s’ to the sublime handful of shield agents that were aimlessly roaming the halls. She could not have gotten far.
He reached the ground floor without an ounce of serenity, lamentably seeing the familiar sweep of light-washed jeans tumble her way into the flaunted seat of the brightly painted yellow taxi. He sprinted, pushed his legs against the cobbled walkway without a single song of repercussion.
He ran at an impeccable speed, but the annoyingly joyful splash of the lily-livered car had already fled through the bustling streets of New York.
He had not been fast enough.
His jaded gaze was focused on the drops of pooled up liquid that the rain had left behind, drowsily molding down the asphalt.
He could have simply told her. He could have sat her down and held her face, coiling her hair around his finger. He could have pecked her nose and begged for her forgiveness, for it had always been her who told him that his past was not irrevocably his.
He felt defeated – sullen and sick and tired. He was so, so tired.
Dolefully, Bucky mucked up a graze of fervid dignity and skeptically went to find himself a drink at the nearest possible bar – not that he could get drunk.
His eyelids heaved against the breeze, the morning chill disking through his eyelashes. He had barely made it past the entrance before a girly drawl was thrown his way.
“What can I getcha’ handsome?” He dizzily looked up, locking down onto a pair of turbid grey eyes. She was pretty, with straight auburn hair and a well-suited nose. Her smile was bright and shiny, a mouth full of perfect pearly whites minus the slight chip in her bottom left incisor. She was charming, but she was not Y/N.
“The strongest of whatever you’ve got. Just keep ‘m coming.”
“I can do that,” she jostled, her still-warm grin settled lowly into a lopsided position.
7 years ago.
“For the millionth time, Barnes. I don’t hate you.”
He smiled, “So then what? Mildly dislike?”
A shocked laugh blew past her lips, the sudden show of delight causing her to slap a hand over her mouth. “Mildly annoyed by. Take it or leave it.”
He watched her adoringly, “You drive a hard bargain miss, but I am afraid that I will have to accept your terribly gracious offer.”
“It’s your funeral, sarge.”
“Hm. Sure, whatever you say, doll,” he turned his gaze back towards the tv, shifting his head against her immorally high mountain of pillows and lazily continuing to scrutinize as the show rolled on, “Do you really enjoy watching this stuff?” he pondered, peeking at her through the lowlights of the room.
“Well, I don’t know. I just figured that if you do what we do- “
“Bucky,” his breath hitched at the sound of his name disintegrating on her tongue, “criminal minds is very far away from being considered what ‘we do’. Plus, have you seen Doctor Reid- “
“Not this again,” he groaned, “Come on, Y/N, he’s so young – “
“This is season 1! Of course, he’s young. And besides, everybody is young in comparison to you.” She fired back, faultlessly leaning her head against his broad, Henley-clad shoulder. He froze. The sudden jerk of his arm against her sweatshirt made her pull back, repentant.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” her eyes widened in realization.
“Hey – no. That was my fault, I just wasn’t expecting it.”
“I should have asked” she countered, studying him.
“Well, you’re asking now – and I’m telling you that it’s okay.”
She relaxed a little, slowly going back to snug herself underneath his left arm, “how’s this?”
He thawed, “That’s perfect.” A moment of silence hung in between them before he spoke again, “Were you just trying to profile me? Like in the show?”
She hushed him, snorting a little under her breath, “Definitely not. You’re too much of an open book.”
“Oh, you are so in for it,” he spurred mockingly before dissolving her into a fit of pitchy squeals as she dutifully held the remote control to her chest and ran through the sleeping compound in an attempt to escape his rudely commenced tickle fight.
The taxi driver was without a doubt confused. Confused, concerned and maybe even a tad bit conflicted thanks to the drizzled line of tears that had drawn a salty texture down her face.
Y/N had given him address after address, but every single time that he had announced their arrival at her desired destination, she had promptly placed another neatly printed dollar bill against the worn-out leather of the divider.
“Is there someone you can call?” He had asked her kindly. He was young, perhaps mid-twenties, with a mop of jet-black hair that curled out deliciously by his ears and a pair of green gemstones for eyes. Pretty, she thought. He was awfully pretty – terminally pretty. He looked like a sunken Adonis, and had he not been right by her side, she would have supposed that he could have escaped from one of the Louvre’s renaissance paintings.
He was pretty, but there was not a single feature on his unmarred face that outshone Bucky.
“Yeah, I-” She swallowed. She could not call Sam even if she wanted to, “-No, I don’t.”
He peeked at her through the glare, a sorry look swimming across his fine, aristocrat nose.
“Do you want to talk?”
She craned her neck towards him – intrigued by his genuine attempt at sparking a conversation – and then she laughed. She laughed a pillowy kind of laugh, pained and light.
“I’m not so sure that that would be considered appropriate.”
It was his turn to chuckle, “Well, I’m off the clock,” Y/N gaped at him before checking the time, “I have been for about an hour.”
It was six a.m.
“Oh, God,” She ran a hand over her face in embarrassment, “I am so, so sorry,”
“Hey, c’mon.” he assured her, “Don’t worry about it. It looked like you could use a friend.”
She groaned, “Yeah, I don’t seem to have to many of those lying around anymore.”
He was smiling again, a fluid and purely palpable gesture, “Well?”
“Y/N,” she offered, reaching her hand out towards his for a handshake.
She squinted at him, watching as the now newly littered light caressed his face, “Like the planet?”
“Kind of. Technically, the planet was named after the roman god Mars,”
She puffed, “Oh, close enough,”
“Sure.” He agreed sarcastically, firmly returning her greeting, “Will you let me take you home now? I’m sure your boyfriend’s is worried.”
She almost bawled again, gorgeously perplexed by his unfairly exquisite way with words, “Geez, what gave the boyfriend part away?”
He smirked, “The tears? Or maybe the melted mascara on your forehead?”
She coughed, “There’s mascara on my forehead and you didn’t tell me?” Her voice was jokingly disturbed.
“I’m telling you now, so, it cancels out. PEMDAS, baby.”
She sniffled on a giggle, “I hate math.”
“You and me both,” He promised, helping her slide the mirror open, “So?”
She shied away at his repeated reminder, “I suppose I’ll let you, Mars.”
“I am never going to be living that down, am I?”
“You know, you should really be blaming my parents, not me.”
“I actually quite like it. It suits you.”
“Are you calling me godly?” He teased, drooping his head to his shoulder, “Incessantly charming, sexy and irresistible?”
“Wow, you’re so modest.
“Nah, I just know I'm right.” She chaffed a little, treating herself to a private little smile that she managed to hide against the back of her palm. She knew why it had been so easy for her to let him dry her tears. He reminded her of Tony.
6 years ago.
“Okay so let me get this straight,”
“You don’t like the peanut sauce?”
“You, Bucky Barnes, do not like the peanut sauce?”
“Y/N, I literally just said- “
“How is that even possible?”
“It’s really not that big of a deal- “
“Are you sure you’re real? Maybe you’re an alien?”
He blanked, “What?”
“Bucky, everybody likes peanut sauce. It’s the best part!”
“I think that it tastes better without it!”
“This is insane,” Her expressions were frantic, her hands gripping at his shoulders in an attempt of snapping him out of it. “Eating a salad roll without peanut sauce is like… a crime.”
He choked on the remainder of his food, her bluntly honest remark making him giddy, “Doll, coming from someone who has indeed committed actual crimes,” she flinched, “I can assure you that this is in fact, legal.”
“I hate you,” She grumbled and unconvincingly rolled off the picnic blanket. She clumsily assembled the takeout boxes that had scattered themselves around the checkered fabric and went to toss them away.
“Mildly annoyed by,” he reminded her cheekily, watching her as she rolled her eyes. He was laying down, his front leisurely basked against the warm summer sun, with one arm propped up behind his neck and the other fumbling around in the plush expanses of the grass to his right.
“That comment is retractable.”
“Oh, is it?” He whispered, sitting up to grab at her waist and sweep her off her feet. She yelped as she came tumbling down, their limbs tangling around each other. His breath was festering against her neck, his nose skimming at the skin that wrapped it’s way around her jaw. He had never been this close to her before. He had never been this confident.
“And what can one do to have it remain as it is?” His face was stoned, his pupils drawn out big amidst the flailing rims of blue.
“Well, what do you want to do?” The question was vague, she knew that, but it was necessary. Was she reading this all wrong?
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
He sighed a little breath against her skin, finally pressing a taunting peck to the tip of her shoulder, “I think I want to kiss you, but- “
“But what?” She mumbled, locking her legs around the back of his thighs in order to miserably restrain her trembles.
“I don’t want you to regret it,” Bucky’s eyes shut as he nuzzled his nose further against her pulse point, “I don’t want you to ever have to see me the way that Steve does, or Tony, or Nat,”
“They don’t see you like I do.” He stiffened at her confession, an injured look assembling itself over the layers of his flesh. “What is it?”
“It’s like I want to be alone, and yet I still want to be touched.”
“To be touched by- “
“By you.” She gasped softly against his lips, the mere tilt of his chin connecting their mouths. A domino effect. Their kiss was so full of unsaid ‘thank you’s’ and ginger pleads, that his mind went limp. He let her lead the way, his body pliable beneath her. They kissed and nipped at each other’s faces until the lack air between their embrace took it’s toll. Bucky’s face was flushed, his eyes still closed.
“You’re a dumbass,” She mumbled, her own skin split in half by the grin she was sporting.
“It took you two whole years to do that.” His free hand had secretly snuck its way back into the grass, and was childishly tugging at the stem of a larger daisy.
“Better late than never,”
She snickered at the concentrated look that had graced his face as he tried to ease the plant behind her ear, his nose scrunched up and his lips sucked in, “I can see that you’re struggling a little,”
“Just shut up and give me a second, doll.” Once he had successfully secured the dainty petals against her hair, he leaned back in awe to admire the girl that was strewn out atop his chest.
“Well, it’s only fair that since I have one, you should have one too.” Confused, Bucky patiently waited for her as she found herself her own little flower to insert into his hair, “Now we’re even.”
“Now we’re even.”
“What about Sushi?”
“Have you ever tried Sushi?”
“Doll, I lived in both Russia and Romania- “
“That one I haven’t,” He yielded.
“It’s Greek. You’ll love it.”
“So, the avengers, huh,”
Bucky awkwardly swished his glass around, watching dumbly as the drink meddled itself into a riptide. “Well, it’s not really the avengers anymore.”
Rachel – the bartender – had sat herself down by his side, nursing her own shot of liquor. “Still, it’s rather impressive.” They had been exchanging a few measly words here and there, but her constant increase in mindless touches had begun to set him on edge. “You know, I’ve never seen you around here before.”
“That’s because I’ve never had a reason to come.” He blanched truthfully.
“Yeah, I could tell,” she commented sourly, “I could spot a heartbroken man from a mile away if I wanted to, same thing applies to those who just got dumped.”
“I did not get dumped.” He denied vehemently.
“No need to lie, honey. It’s her loss anyways.” She was way too close.
“Rachel, I’m serious- “
“Do you have a girlfriend then? Oh, maybe a boyfriend?”
“C’mon, sweetheart. We all know that honesty is the best policy,” and just as Bucky was about to tell her to fuck off, she had swiftly leaned up and kissed him.
Her lips were rigid and chapped, almost uncomfortable in their friction. He was frozen, shocked by the spontaneity of the assault.
Thoughtlessly, he shoved the girl away from him, furiously wiping the palm of his hand against his mouth. His eyes were huge, a lingered feel of cold disgust seeping through his tongue at the aftertaste of her matted lipgloss.
“Don’t you ever,” He growled, “touch me again – or any, taken man for that matter.”
She ogled at him from her seat, watching as he yanked his jacket on and hurriedly deserted the pub. He had to find Y/N. He had to find her and hold her and promise her, that his heart was hers and only hers. His shallow breaths were iced around him, the gelatinous rays of sun carding through his hair. He had kissed another woman – not consensually, but to him that did not matter. It was Y/N lips he craved. He was going to lose her, and in that agonizingly treacherous process, he would equally lose himself.
Bucky was about to purposefully cross street and bound across the pavement until his opaque eyes met hers across the intersection. Y/N’s heart torn gaze left him breathless, his feet lurching him towards her. He was ecstatic to see her standing there, wrapped up amidst one of his hoodies. His girl. He was so happy to see her standing there, that he almost missed the person that was yapping by her side.
He stilled unwillingly, staring fiercely at the dark-haired man that was coolly leaning against the taxi. Y/N tore her eyes away from Bucky’s, twisting around to whisper something against the other’s guy’s ear.
Bucky hadn’t even realized that he had begun to move until he came face to face with the tall, ruggedly charismatic lead singer of some surely superficial boyband. He was certainly not apart of chase atlantic or whatever the hell it was that Y/N listened to, but he definitely fit the type.
The tightness that was spreading through Bucky’s throat was bitter, it was jealous.
“Who the fuck, are you?” He hissed out, possessively going to grab at her waist.
“Bucky, calm down. This is Mars, and he was just leaving.”
The guy – Mars – gave her a knowing nod, and replied, “Yeah, I’ll text you.”
“Like hell you will.” Bucky seethed and went to skillfully lunge across the sidewalk, but she gripped his arm.
“Thanks again. Bye.” She said softly, parting ways with the pompous looking asshole who seemed to have the word ‘douchebag’ written all over him. Y/N dragged Bucky down the side of the cement road, gifting him with nothing but a whole lot of upheaving silence. He was sinking.
The second that she had managed to lug the both of them into the hollow cage of the tower’s elevator, he was on her.
“Who was that?” He asked lamely, trying his best to remain impassive.
“Oh, so now you wanna talk? This is ridiculous.”
“Just answer the question, damnit!” So much for that externally unbothered demeanor. His outburst did not go unnoticed, and he inwardly cringed at the look of unrequited rage that spun itself off her eyes.
“Fine! He was the taxi driver who willingly and unselfishly drove me around for the last two hours! He watched me cry and he offered me advice – I mean, he even gave me a packet of fucking baby wipes to clean my face!”
Bucky’s face dropped, what had he done? “I’m sorry-”
“You don’t get to tell me that you’re sorry. It just won’t cut it.”
He looked down at his feet, not knowing what to do, “Then what can I say?”
“Tell me the truth- ”
“I love you.”
“Damn your love, damn your lies, damn all of this! Tell me, the truth.”
“I kissed another girl.” He rushed out, the words spicy and hot against his teeth. Her face went slack, her jaw dropping open in an uttered silence. It was so quiet that they could both hear the mechanical whir of the elevator hinges.
“What?” Her voice was so small – so frail – that he just wanted to die. He wanted to dig a hole, crawl inside of it and die.
“I… When you ran out, I went to go after you,” There were tears in her eyes, “but you had already called a cab and... I was so close, baby.” The look of pure horror that roused behind her cheeks at the mention of her favored nickname shot a hole straight through his heart. “I went to Rori’s because I was sad, and upset and hurt, and then the waitress she…” A whimper escaped her lips, “She kissed me.”
“Oh god.” A disbelieving sob left her lungs, “Oh, Buck…” He felt his own tears well as he watched her slide her back down the wall. “Did you kiss her back?”
He looked up, “What?”
“Did you kiss her back?”
“No! God, no, Y/N. I didn’t. If anything I probably hurt her when I pried her off.” There was no laugh, no general twitch at his terribly placated joke. “Baby, I’m so sorry-”
“That still doesn’t answer my question about all those other nights.” She interrupted, her bottom lip wobbling between her teeth as she tried to ignore his overly recited apology. She wanted to be the bigger person, “I can forgive you for something that you did not agree to, but I cannot keep pretending to okay with the constant secrecy. If you don’t love me now, it’s over. We’re over,” his breath hitched, “You will never love me again. So, please.”
“You’re giving me an ultimatum?” He intoned, his heart skipping over a full fledged beat when she remained mute. It was now or never. “Okay then.”
“Okay?” She repeated cautiously, timorously reaching for his hand.
“Okay.” He repeated, reverently lacing their fingers. “I killed-” he tightened his grip on her palm as she sent him a disapproving glare over her elbow, instantaneously making him rebute his statement, “the winter soldier, killed…” Y/N’s eyes were calm and serene, the perfect example of a relinquished safe haven that he was about to lose – demolish. “Daniel.”
She frowned, the dimpled crease between her eyebrows making her look oddly enchanting. “Dan? As in...”
“Yes.” He hushed, a tear glissading past the barriers of his waterline and burning its way down the length of his face before it was surprisingly met by her index finger.
“You stupid, stupid boy.” She whispered grimly, leaning her neck against the cool plates of the elevator, and allowing for the buttons to etch themselves into her back. He wordlessly pressed his nose to the tip of her collarbone, inhaling. “Bucky… James,” she pushed him away from her chest, “Daniel is a very old wound that can not be easily unstitched. I loved him very much, and he was one of my best friends, but he died saving hundreds of people.” Bucky whined lowly at the mention of the sniper’s death, “You didn’t kill him, Buck. That wasn’t you, and you know that I believe that. Why would you hide that from me? Why would you- “
“I didn’t want you to see me as a murderer.”
She snipped, “You deceived me; you didn’t trust me enough to tell me. You let us suffer over something that could have easily been avoided. You let me think that there was something wrong with me-”
“Baby, no,” his voice wavered, “I’m sorry- “
“Stop apologizing!” His jaw snapped shut, perspicuously stunned by her tone. “Me and you,” she gestured between them, “we’re a team. You could have told me, Bucky. You lied to me.”
“You hurt me.” Her accusation was candid, like a sweetened caramel apple dipped inside of a raw precision.
“I know.” She sighed as she listened to him breathe his approval, her eyes tabulating through some sort of internal conflict.
“I know you do. That’s what makes this so much harder.”
He held his breath as he lent her his next question, “How do I fix this? Please, tell me how and ill do it. Anything.”
“You don’t fix this Buck; you learn from it. You grow.” This is it, he thought. She’s going to end it.
“I don’t know how.” He breathed huskily, unsure of whether or not he felt like crying.
“I’ll help you,” She hummed softly, her words causing for his eyes to shoot open, half-lidded and confused.
“You’ll stay with me?”
She smiled, “So long as you can promise me that you’ll be honest with me from now on. You’ve chained my heart, Barnes. It’s all yours.” He exhaled, a loud and disbelieving gulp of air before he pinned her mouth shut with a kiss, basking his soul against the familiar closeness.
“I swear to you, no more secrets and no more hiding.”
Her head swayed around his clavicle, “And no more kissing other girls.”
He groaned, “You’re the only one I want, I promise.”
They stayed like that for who knows how long, a pair on unsuspecting lovers curled up against the refreshing sling of the elevator slab.
“Salad rolls?” He mumbled tiredly, punctuating his words into her wacked out hair.
“Salad rolls.” She agreed happily, “Can I have your peanut sauce though?”
He scoffed under his breath, “First you want me to like the peanut sauce and now you wanna steal it, huh?” She narrowed her eyes at him, unamused by his query. “I’ll get you all the peanut sauce you want, doll.”
@dardardarina @aderiex @petersslvt
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Pairing: Bucky and Reader
Word Count: 1.2k
A/N: Maybe I’m back? I’m still not sure but I had to participate in @syntheticavenger‘s writing challenge. I love love all of your work and tbh reading your work has really gotten me back into writing. I knew if I kept looking at this, I would never post it so any mistakes are all mine. Y’all can follow @littlemarvelfics-notifs to be updated when I write something new. I’m definitely open to any and all requests!
How It Started
Looking up from your phone, you glanced up and down the busy city street. Your new apartment building should be right in front of you. Instead, all you saw was an empty lot. You tried to get the attention of someone passing by but you didn’t have any luck. You groaned and threw your head back.
“It is not humanly possible for one person to have this many things go wrong in one day!” you shouted to the sky, unconcerned with any looks you were getting.
“Excuse me, miss?” a voice questioned.
Your head snapped back down and you came face to face with a pair of stunning blue eyes and a kind smile.
“You look like you could use some help,” he continued.
“I could,” you mumbled, eyeing the stranger suspiciously. “Everyone else has ignored my pleas for help. What are you up to?”
The stranger looked down and chuckled before meeting your eye again.
“Maybe I’m from a different time,” he responded simply with a shrug of his shoulder. “I’m Bucky.”
You responded with your name and shook his outstretched hand.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“Everything,” you replied. “The airline lost my luggage so I have a single pair of clean underwear and a toothbrush to my name until they find it. I spent 30 minutes trying to find a taxi, when I finally got one, I gave them my new address. They dropped me here. In front of a lot. But considering I don’t have any belongings, maybe the lot will be fine!”
“Alright, one thing at a time. The airline has your information and they’ll get you your bags. I don’t know how much help I’ll be with the underwear but I can point you in the direction of a store. What’s the address of your place?”
You rattled off your address, hoping it wasn’t too far from where you were.
“You’re in luck,” Bucky said with a smile. “That’s my building and you’re only two blocks away. I can walk you there if you’d like.”
“That would be incredible,” you sighed, your shoulders sagging with relief.
Bucky started off in the direction of the building and you followed next to him closely. The two of you fell into an easy conversation, making quick work of the two blocks you had to travel. As Bucky neared the building and slower, you couldn’t help but be disappointed. He was incredibly charming and cute, a longer walk with him would’ve been perfect.
Pausing to point out a shop across the street where you could get the necessities until your bags came. He then held open the front door of the building for you, smiling as you brushed against him. You stopped in the lobby and turned to face him.
“I think I’ve got it from here. Thank you so much for your help Bucky.”
“No problem doll, I’m in apartment 302 if you need anything.”
“302,” you repeated. “What are the chances that’s in the vicinity of apartment 303?”
“Right next door,” he said with a smile. “You probably have plans for your first night in the city-”
“No plans!” you interrupted quickly..
“Then maybe you’d wanna order a pizza? Watch a movie or something.”
“That sounds amazing actually,” you replied with a smile.
“Great! I’ve got a few errands to run but you can come over around 7?”
“I’ll see you then,” you said, turning to go up the stairs.
After making it successfully into your apartment, you leaned against the closed door and smiled. You might not have any furniture or clothes but maybe you didn’t have the worst luck afterall.
How It’s Going
Bucky groaned as he reached out to your side of the bed, the chill of the morning air hitting him when his arm met an empty bed. Opening his eyes, he glanced around the hotel room, hoping to see you on the balcony or hear you in the shower but it was silent and you were nowhere to be found. Bucky flipped to his side and found a folded sheet of paper addressed to him in your handwriting. Grabbing it, he read the quickly scrawled out message.
“Left for breakfast, be back soon.”
Bucky let out a scoff and rolled his eyes.
“This isn’t going to end well,” he mumbled to himself.
It had been two, almost three years since he met you on the street in Brooklyn and the first thing Bucky learned about you-- the circumstance of your first meeting wasn’t unusual. Your terrible sense of direction paired with your refusal to depend on technology made you chronically late and lost. You were even late to Bucky’s proposal when a closed street had you turned around for 45 minutes. On the day of your wedding, he made Wanda follow you closely to make sure you wouldn’t get lost on your way to the ceremony-- even if you had been to the chapel multiple times.
Bucky picked up his phone and made sure he didn’t have any missed calls before pulling himself out of bed and heading to the balcony. The eiffel tower loomed in the distance, the sun shining down on the city. Two days into your honeymoon and he never wanted to leave. He was pulled from his thoughts when his phone started ringing, your picture flashing on the screen. He accepted the call but before he could say anything, you started talking.
“This is not my fault.”
“Uh huh,” Bucky replied sceptically. “Who’s fault is it?”
“Did you know that everything is in French here?” you questioned.
“In Paris, France? Yes, the thought had crossed my mind.”
“You can make fun of me later, just come help me!”
“Use your phone!” Bucky said, chuckling.
“But it would be so much more romantic if my husband came to save me,” you countered.
“Alright Mrs. Barnes, do you see a street sign or a store around?”
You rattled off a few places you could see, including the hotel you thought was yours but upon further inspection, you realized it wasn’t even close.
Bucky switched you over to speaker phone and looked up the hotel you were standing in front of. He sighed when he realized where you were.
“Down the street, Y/N, you are quite literally down the street,” he said with a sigh.
“Then it should be easy for you to find me!” you said cheerfully. “Bye!”
Bucky hung up the phone and quickly threw on his jeans, boots and a henley that still smelled like you from the night before when you wore it to bed. He jogged down to the lobby and made his way down the busy street, slowing when he spotted you leaning against a building, paper bag in your hand.
“Mrs. Barnes!” he called out, knowing he would never get tired of referring to you with his last name.
Your head whipped up, grinning when you spotted Bucky.
“Hello husband,” you chirped, greeting him with a kiss. “I bought you a croissant.”
“You could have woken me up, you know,” he said, slinging his arm around your shoulders, guiding you back to the hotel.
“Ah, but this is so much more fun! What better way to celebrate our marriage than to recreate the moment we first met!”
Bucky stopped and turned to look at you.
“Hold on, did you know the hotel was right down the street?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” you mused.
“Got dressed for nothin’”, he mumbled, continuing the walk.
“And after a croissant, we can have fun getting undressed again,” you replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Bucky smiled, kissing your head. He knew he would find you anytime you got lost.
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Thristy thots: dark!Steve returning to Brooklyn only to find his girl has moved on. So he has to remind who she belongs to in front of her new man 😏 I dont have the ability to write a good dark Steve so he's just gonna live in my mind for now 😂😂 Happy Sinday!
i… woah. okay
warnings: noncon/dubcon, humiliation, degredation, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, kidnapping, oh god the dove is dead please don’t eat it
“Remember now, sweetheart?” Steve’s face looms over your own, his eyes boring into you. You can’t look away—your shoulder still bears the mark of your previous infraction, the bite mark red and swollen. The rest of you is also marked with his affections, bruises and handprints around your hips from his roughness. You’re practically sobbing against him, your own fingernails drawing reddened lines down his chest and back. “Oh I think it’s coming back to you, baby.”
His mouth is on yours again, hot and hungry as he rolls his hips into yours. You don’t know how there’s room for all of his cock, the heavy weight of it splitting you deliciously in two. You’ve come apart on his cock three times that you can count, two on his fingers, and one in his mouth. You’re exhausted and overstimulated but he’s still going.
“Steve please,” you whine. “I’m—hic—sorry, I’m s-so sorry, I didn’t know you were coming back—told me you were d-dead—” your words are marred by his thrusts, and the feel of him bottoming out inside of you is still making stars burst, searing into your vision. “P-please—” he strokes the sides of your face without missing a beat, his cock still moving steadily in the sloppy, wet mess of your cunt.
“I know, sweetheart. I believe you. I forgive you for that. I know you didn’t know.” he kisses you again. “What I can’t forgive,” he turns your head sharply to face the bound, gagged figure on the chair just next to the bed, “is this. I don’t think you remember whose pussy this is.” Steve punctuates the statement with a thrust that makes your body convulse with pleasure. “Whose it is to give away. But when you remember, doll,” he groans, forcing your gaze back to him. “I’ll forgive you.”
He screams through the gag, but Steve’s done a good job, and you barely hear anything. Maybe he can see your concern, or perhaps he takes pity on Eric, restrained just feet from where Steve is sliding his cock slickly into you, but he chuckles. “And maybe then I’ll let him loose.”
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Paring: Steve Rogers × gn!reader
Word count: 634
Warnings: I don’t think there are any
Summary: Your boyfriend, Steve, has been away on a mission for weeks, and you just want to feel his touch again.
A/N: This is written for @babycap‘s writing challenge. I don’t know how I feel about it, it’s kinda short but I hope that the person who’s reading this, enjoys it <3
It’s been weeks since you last saw Steve. He’s away on a mission, a tough one by the looks of it. It’s been dragging on for so long, you thought something happened. Something bad. But, pushing those thoughts aside, you convinced yourself it’s just a hard one.
You were doing well the first week, not thinking much about it and trying to occupy your mind with other things like baking, cleaning, talking with the team, just stuff that normal people do. But after some time, even those things couldn’t help the bad thoughts running through your mind anymore. Sleep has been tough, usually sleeping with him by your side, talking to him about how your day has been, maybe a reassuring hug when things were tough, it’s these little things that you miss. But alas, there’s nothing you can do until he gets back. For now, you’ll just have to find a way to keep yourself busy. An easy task, right?
Well, apparently, it’s not. You’ve tried everything - from cooking to running and painting, but nothing is helping you with your problem. Everything is reminding you of him. And you know it’s selfish, it is, you complaining here over missing him while he’s saving the world, but that’s what every human being does, there’s no helping it.
“Do you think they’re okay?” you ask Wanda as you put your legs on her lap, your head turned to the screen. You two are currently watching a movie, a failed attempt at taking your mind off things. She’s been having problems too, Vision was also signed up for the mission. And even though they’re still freshly into their relationship, not seeing each other for so long is even worse, you suppose.
“Yea, I think they are.” she absent-mindedly replies, her head on another planet.
“They have to be,” you state, determination evident in your tone. That seems to shake Wanda out of her thoughts, a smile on her face as she looks at you.
“Whatcha watching?” somebody asks, making both of you jump, Wanda already in the position to fight someone.
“Tasha! Don’t scare us like this, please, we could have hurt you.” you sigh, earning a giggle from her.
“Wait, what are you doing here, aren’t you supposed to be…”
“On a mission.” you finish Wanda’s sentence, the realization hitting you, your eyes locking with Wanda’s momentarily before you both jump up and run to the door like your life depends on it.
“Steve!” you exclaim, running into his arms, almost knocking him down with your force. You cling to him like a koala, legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his shoulders.
“Wow, hey doll, I missed you too,” he laughs, wrapping his arms around your back, his hand on the back of your head, a soft kiss pressed against your forehead.
“You’re back,” you whisper, immediately pressing your lips onto his, into a passionate yet loving kiss.
“I’m back,” he repeats, a wide grin evident on his face.
“What is this? you question, gesturing to his new grown beard.
“Oh, this? You like it?” he smirks, that little playful sparkle present in his eyes.
“Yeah, it makes you look even hotter,” you confess, capturing his lips again in a quick kiss, before untangling yourself from him, taking his hand in yours instead.
After showering and brushing his teeth he joins you in bed, you placing your head onto his chest, finally hearing his calming heartbeat again after almost a month of not being able to touch him, to be in his presence.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” you tiredly say, earning a quiet hum from him, since he’s almost asleep already. It’s not long before you travel to dreamland too, getting proper rest for the first time in a while.
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