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#marvel x you
angelltheninth · 10 months
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The Flirting Skills of Spiderverse Characters
Pairing: Peter B. Parker, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar x Reader
Tags: fluff, crush, flirting, established relationship, kissing, confidence boost, secret identity
A/N: I asked myself if these characters have rizz and behold!
Peter does have pretty good flirting skills once you start dating. Until the he's a tiny bit awkward but not too much, he knows you already like him. His smiles are always a litte loopsided when he walks his fingers up your arm, to your cheek, watching goosebumps bloosom on your skin right before he kisses you.
Miles needs to look up pick up lines before he sees you. They don't help. Well they do but not in the way he thought. He mixes up his lines from how nervous he is but instead of messing up his chances with his crush, you end up liking him even more then you did before.
Gwen is a pretty good flirt once she becomes fond of you. In and out of the costume actually. In the costume more before you start to return her feelings but when she's sure you feel the same way she does hard on the flirting when she's outside of the costume and eases up while she's in the costume.
Miguel flirts like no other. Kissing your cheek, dipping down like you're in a dance, always pulling you to his chest while looking at you with the most smug grin on his face. How could he not with the reactions he pulls from you, all those yelps and dreamy sighs and mindmelting kisses you give him in return.
Hobie flirts without meaning to. He is naturally a very touchy, energetic guy so he makes your heart skip a beat without trying to. If he does try you're in real trouble. It was already hard enough to try not to kiss him while he was just a friend but now he's actually putting the moves on you. Worst of all he knows exactly what he's doing to you and he's not slowing down.
Pavitr is a smooth talker outside of the costume but not in it. When he sees you face to face his confidance goes up by a lot but when you're looking at him like you don't really know him, he falters. Always the one to put his arm around your shoulder and pull you into a kiss, smiling into it as you cup his jaw, silently asking for one more.
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buckyalpine · 6 months
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A smutty thot. Imagine the avengers fucking around with a lie detector test, testing how well the super soldiers were trained. Steve failed instantly while stating his own name, blushing from embarrassment. Bucky was shoved into the chair next.
And he was disgustingly good.
The wires were attached to him within seconds, with questions flying left right and center. He crossed his arms over his chest with an eyeroll, answering the most ridiculous questions each person would throw at him.
"What the hell Barnes, there's no way, you can't be serious"
The super soldier smirked, while the others watched the needle scratch on the paper steadily, not a single signal indicating he was lying. It was going great until Tony's eyes lit up with a brilliant idea.
“Wait. Get y/n in here”
You sauntered into the room, scrunching your face seeing Bucky hooked up to the machine, while the rest of the team stared at him intently. The faintest uptick scratched onto the paper making Steve cock an eyebrow while Bucky's expression remained the same.
"What am I doing here and why's Bucky-
"Shh, just stand there. We're trying to see if we can get Bucky to fail a lie detector test. Alright, new question. Is there anyone in this room you've thought about naked" Tony asked while all eyes stared at Bucky, the soldier biting his lip.
"No"
"Hm" Tony nodded, continuing. "Is there anyone in this room you've thought about having sex with"
"What kind of questions are you asking, pervert" Bucky exhaled through his nose, his finger tapping against the seat.
"Just answer the question Barnes" Tony smiled sweetly, grinning when the needle already started to move a little higher than before.
"No"
The needle ticked higher making Bucky huff, ignoring the way his face heated up when you stepped closer to peer at the paper.
"Interesting. Slight deception detected there Barnes, you sure about that?"
"Yes" Bucky forced through gritted teeth, managing to keep the needle from jumping around too much.
"Here, let me" You smirked, pulling Tony away from the seat, gazing into the soldiers eyes while he threw you a cocky smirk.
"Think you can do better doll?" He sassed while you shrugged, the scent of your perfume already making hi sweat.
"Have you ever thought of kissing me?" The needle jolted before Bucky could even open his mouth, making the others screech while Bucky shook his head. "Liar"
"You ever thought about me naked? You like watching me out on the field?"
"No" Bucky's pulse raced, his pants starting to feel too tight, the test scribbling wildly.
"Okay this mf lying" Sam snorted while Bucky's flushed cheeks grew hotter.
"Really? You ever think about me on my knees for you? Sucking your cock?"
"No" The needle nearly jolted off the sheet, making Tony cackle, clapping his hands madly while Steve blushed and chuckled, torn between watching his best friend's walls crumble and running out of the room with your questions getting filthier and filthier.
"You think about cumming down my throat? having me swallow all of you, telling you how good you taste?"
"No"
"You think about having me naked on your bed, soldier? Moaning for you? Screaming your name?"
"You think about stuffing me with your babies Jamie? Getting me pregnant with that serum running through your veins?"
"You want me to call you daddy baby? How about Sergeant"
"Do you want me to be your slutty baby, drip all over your cock"
"N-No" Bucky gritted out again while Sam threw his hands up.
"You're not fooling anyone dumbass, I think you broke the needle" The machine nearly gave way with a high pitched whizz matching Bucky's racing heartrate. You grinned, getting up from your seat, making him pant.
"Do I make you horny baby" You slinked onto his lap, making Bucky finally break his resolve, his hands flying to your waist.
"Fuck yes. C'mere" He hissed, ripping the wires off and tossing you over his shoulder with a spank while Tony peered over at the paper with a satisfied smirk.
"No lies detected"
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antiquarianfics · 7 months
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You Have a Girlfriend?
So you get a little confused when you’re drunk? So what?
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a/n: I saw a goofy little twitter post about this somewhere and ran with it. I’m goofy when I’m drunk, so, honestly? A very plausible scenario.
warnings: Mild language, alcohol consumption.
note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.
You do not have permission to copy, repost, or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.
You’re sitting next to Bucky and across from Sam, and you are a little very drunk. The three of you chose to have a drink and talk after a long day of working on the Wilsons’ boat. The issue, however, is that Sam challenged Bucky and yourself to a drinking game, and you were desperately losing.
One thing about you is that when you’re drunk: you feel the need to tell everyone how much you love them. Another thing about you when you’re drunk: your memory sucks.
“Sam,” you whisper yell across the bow of the boat. “Sam. Sam. Sam.”
Sam raises an eyebrow at you when he turns his attention to you.
“I have a secret to tell you! No, two secrets!” You hold out two fingers in front of you.
Sam smirks. “What’s that?”
“One,” you hold up one finger, “I love you; you’re a good friend. Two,” you hold up a second finger, “your friend who’s sitting by me is really, really hot.”
Sam lets out a loud laugh, and you grin at his reaction.
“I love you, too, kid.”
Bucky is smiling fondly at you, watching you with love and adoration. He’s glad he can’t get drunk simply for the ability to take care of you while you let loose.
“I’m really, really hot, huh?” Bucky teases, and he laughs when you nearly get whiplash from turning to look at him.
Your eyes are wide as you stare at him. In your drunken state, you clearly didn’t expect him to hear your admission to Sam. You relax after a second, though, and smile at him.
“Yeah, you are. Y’know, I was wonderin’…” you trail off, getting distracted as you stare into his bright blue eyes. You let out a content sigh as you observe him.
“What were ya wonderin’, Doll?” He lets his hand rest on your thigh, rubbing his hand up and down comfortingly.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Your question is dead serious. There’s no hesitancy or joke in your voice, and Bucky finds it completely endearing. He chuckles as he stares at you, and you can faintly hear Sam lose his shit. You don’t pull your attention away from Bucky at all, though.
“I do,” Bucky informs you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at your reaction.
Your eyes go wide, tears prickle at the corner of them. You swallow and wipe them away before doing your best to come up with a steady voice.
“Is it serious?” You question him.
“Very,” he smiles. “‘m gonna ask her to marry me.”
Generally speaking, Bucky wouldn’t have told you his plans, but he is fairly certain you’re not going to remember this conversation in the morning. And, if you do, he isn’t too concerned because he is so very serious.
You make no effort to hide your disappointment, and you let your tears fall freely this time.
“Oh, okay. She’s so lucky. Does she make you happy?”
“Happier than I’ve ever been.”
“Oh. That’s good.”
You’re obviously upset, and you’re obviously unaware Bucky is talking about you. Sam is trying not to laugh, but his wide grin betrays him. Bucky, however, finds himself more concerned than entertained when you start to actually cry.
“Doll, what’s wrong?” He wipes a tear away with his thumb, softly holding your face.
“No!” You push his hand away, eyes going wide. “You have a girlfriend! She wouldn’t want you touchin’ me!”
He laughs then. He can’t help it. After all, his girlfriend would very much want him to touch you. You always have your hand interlaced with his, or your body snugly tucked into his side, or your hand in his hair, or… The list goes on.
“Hey, don’t laugh.” You frown.
“Sorry, sorry. ‘s just that my girlfriend loves when I touch you.”
Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.
“Why would she like for you to touch other women?”
Sam bursts into another round of laughter. He is struggling to breathe as he wordlessly points at the two of you, ignoring Bucky’s glare.
“Oh, Doll, she doesn’t. She hates it, really, and I never pay another dame a lick of attention. She’s the only one I’ve got eyes for.” He kisses your forehead, a form of punctuation to his assurance.
Your critical thinking skills, however, are formally shot.
“You’re lying! You’re paying me attention! And I’m not your girlfriend! What’s your girlfriend’s name? I’ve got to tell her you’re cheating. Girl code.”
Sam loses it again.
“Your girlfriend! You: cheating! Shit!” Sam barely manages to get a thought out. Bucky grins at his friend. He can’t deny that he is just as entertained by your antics.
He pulls out his phone, opening his contacts up to the one labeled “Dollface,” and hands it to you.
“Here,” he says, “call her.”
You nod and take his phone, hitting the call button and holding his cellphone to your ear.
A ringtone fills the night air and you frown when you feel a vibration in your back pocket. Clumsily, you pull your own cellphone out of your pocket and look down at the screen.
“JBB <3 is calling…” appears on your screen along with a candid photo of Bucky laughing.
You stare at it, and Sam and Bucky stare at you. You don’t do anything—don’t say anything, don’t move—until the call goes to voicemail. Finally you look up at Bucky.
“Why’d it call me?”
“Y/N, you’re my girlfriend,” Bucky finally says.
Your face breaks into a wide grin.
“No shit!”
“I wasn’t that drunk!” You insist the following morning.
Sam and Bucky exchange a look before laughing.
“Kid,” Sam says once he’s calmed down enough. “You asked Tin-man if he had a girlfriend and cried when he said yes.”
Your eyes go wide as you turn to Bucky for confirmation.
“You did, Doll,” he says, smiling.
You stare for a moment before shrugging and turning back to your coffee in front of you.
“Y’know what? That’s a totally reasonable reaction,” you say, leaning back into Bucky as he situates himself behind you and plants a loving kiss in your hair.
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nouearth · 8 months
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a sticky situation.
peter parker x male reader.
summary: peter has a major crush on his roommate: you. everything unravels when he walks in on you changing.
wc: 4.1k. genre: smut. warnings: holland!peter, sub!top peter, voyeur!peter, college!au, dry-humping, grinding, frotting, handjobs, kissing, peter's first time, dubcon, cumplay, peter and reader are shooters, characters are aged up!
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a bite of the cold air shuddered your damp and nude body once you stepped out of the bathroom, cataloguing the tidiness of your shared bedroom after. your shoulders tensed when the heated air and cold draft clashed for an estate of your body. but by the way your muscles eased into the green towel around your waist, you’ve figured which side won the war. a warm cheer to victory buzzed in your head.
god, did i luck out with peter… 
you found yourself repeating that observation often these days. it’s only been two months into the semester, but you’ve already concluded that peter was leagues better than your previous roommate. though, the bar was low—he was kind of a homophobe. that guy was a walking proof of evidence that opposites, in fact, do not attract.
on the other hand, peter had proven that similar interests and personalities were the foundation of beautiful, growing relationships: both platonically and romantically. still, relationships were never that black and white—a grey area. a theory that will forever be tested on, only for the outcome to come out vaguer than before, you’ve realized.
peter was like you: friendly, smart, awkward at times, funny to some. you and him basically have the same qualities of a dog, but there was more to it. 
you both shared the same liking down to the genre of video games, the magic of fantasy novels, the cleanliness of a room, the color-coded organization of study notes, and more. 
from there, the similar line of characteristics began to blur. whereas you’d prefer to learn from experience, peter liked playing by the book—sticking to it if he could. peter liked red, you liked blue. he favored savory snacks, you devoured them, but preferred sweet drinks.
opposites attract—the theory was once again, broad in your honor.
difference and similarities aside, you were lucky to have peter in your life. the bedroom was colder before you went to shower, but now it blossomed with a gentle heat.
he knew you hated the cold after a warm shower.
taking the other towel, you dried off the rest of your body while you checked your phone for notifications: a missed call from a friend and a few emails regarding construction around the building you had your classes in.
seriously? still? it’s been almost a year already…
normally, you wouldn’t have walked into the bedroom like this, baring skin and all. but peter went to get food because you both have become familiarized with what they served as food at parties.
note to self: you cannot get full off alcoholic beverages. you and peter both tried two parties ago, and it ended with you two sharing the toilet bowl, detoxing your insides of that liquid poison the entire night. the only enjoyment that resulted from that night was learning that peter was a drunk-crier, and you, a drunk-dancer. your friendship had only leveled up since.
you slid on your white briefs once you dried off before shuffling to the other side of the room, browsing through your shared closet aimlessly: he took the left side, you took the right. it was always dim at those parties, so a nice outfit would be wasted. also, you somehow became a magnet for other people’s misfortunes. it took hours to get rid of the smell of this one girl’s vomit—you threw it out in the end. 
“no, no… it’s going to be cold later…” you cycled through your clothes again, sighing when nothing caught your eye. “guess i can wear this aga-“
“hey!” out of nowhere, peter’s voice sprung out from the side of the room, followed by a quiet thud, and you twisted your bare body towards the source out of fright.
“jesus, you scared me.” the closet door blocked your view of peter, and vice versa, but you presumed he was leaning against the frame—a habit you noted. “i didn’t even hear you come back.”
“sorry- what was i saying..? oh!” his shadow loomed between you and him, growing as he stepped closer to the closet. “did you want to eat now or-“
judging from the volume of his voice, you should’ve expected how close peter was when you shut the closet. “fuck!” you jumped back, eyes widening when he was practically chest to chest with you. “dude, you really gotta stop doing that.”
on a daily basis, you always looked up at him, but you never paid it much thought to how much taller he was. 
“sorry! guess everyone’s a little antsy with the- oh.” he paused.
“what?” you curiously looked up at him, catching sight of his wandering gaze. you were quick enough to follow it, flickering between glimpses of your bare body and face several times like a tennis ball. somehow, you didn’t puzzle the pieces between his shock and your curiosity until he backed away, skittish in nature.
you were in your underwear. still in your underwear. the barrier was the captor of your embarrassment, heat rosed your cheeks as you stood frozen. and with it, the barrier was also your savior.
 “oh- OH!” the size of your eyes matched his and upon realizing he’s been staring for far too long, peter cowered his gaze to the side, a gentlemanly hand blocking his sight as he further backed to the door frame, then blindly bumped his shoulder into the door. “i’m so sorry-“ 
“no, no! i should’ve knocked. i-“ he groaned out, pacifying the sting to his shoulder with his palm. “that was stupid of me, i’m gonna-“
that was another similarity that you both valued: privacy. 
before you could reply, he scattered off. for a moment, you felt hot in the face, in the neck, even on your chest. but it would only take a few more seconds for your skin to cool, comforted by the fact that you could’ve shown more—you didn’t.
when peter scrambled out of the room, his gaze fixated on the ground, to the stripes of his socks as they shuffled to the kitchen. 
but he never made it very far, because he was easily persuaded. either by his hormones, by the shape of your body, or by his closeted feelings about you. in the end, it didn’t matter because a tightening feeling conjured him back to his original spot—it was always going to be about you. 
he was silent in his footsteps, treading backwards to the bedroom as his throat ran dry—heartbeat equally.
tonight. i should do it tonight. are my feelings that obvious? god, i hope not. wait, no- they are! they gotta be… who the fuck wipes marshmallow off of your roommate’s lips and calls them cute?!
peter does.
as his thoughts ran rampant, clouded his regularly murky mind, you were in his line of sight, perfectly captured in the middle of his gaze—now stilled—awe-strucked while he watched you change. 
quick portraits of your thick thighs and calves came and went before they were completely masked by the slide of your shorts. then your stomach and chest; pliant, moist skin that layered over the contours of your body before being covered by a tee. he exhaled, then inhaled, smelling the scent of your shampoo and body wash, and he was delighted because you own that scent.
enraptured because only peter could have his senses triggered by you on a daily basis.
if peter could frame this moment, it would be an expensive endeavor that would sacrifice all the money in the world to find the most perfect materials that complemented your textured skin. your smooth body. your handsome face. 
you. that was all he wanted. 
peter had been trapped since the day he saw you unpacking your things into the dorm. sweaty from the sun, and you knew that, because you refused to shake hands with him until you insisted on washing up first. he wished you never did—your thighs looked better sweating under those shorts.
he’s had crushes before. one in middle school, three in high school. but they amounted to nothing, he never had the confidence. rather, he preferred isolating himself and admiring from afar. rejections had already been predicted, and he was used to the feeling of defeat. if someone were to accept his advances one day, then that would lead to a disruption of events—a catastrophic end to humanity—he joked.
you were different to peter. he loved how, for once, he didn’t have to be the one initiating conversation. he also loved how you didn’t use him for answers because instead, you would help him out with his assignments.
oh, is that professor warren’s class? I think i still have the textbook for her class… let me look. 
even when it would only take five minutes to grab a drink down the street, you still invited him. not out of pity like everybody once did, but because he was your friend. parties have never been your thing, but you accompanied them with him because it made him feel better—to know someone.
maybe since he’s grown more mature since then, but now that he was off on his own, it was up to him to predict his future. it was an advice you gave him one night, and he’s kept that close to his heart since then.  not the hate that had inflicted his mind, not his peers telling he wasn’t good enough for someone—but him.  
in his imaginary world, peter could feel the walls shake when he was around you. the buildings would then fall apart, the earth would scorch civilians and planetary life with heat, and the thundering rain would only make it worse. it was a morbid image. yet, if it meant that you truly liked him, then…
aliens, come do your thing. we insist upon an invasion!
peter wanted you. point, blank, period. it wasn’t his preferred way to confess, but intense sentiments of like, love, lust—all at the same time—ate him up on the inside, and he was scared of being devoid of feelings for you.
“i want… you,” peter muttered, and you jolted again, turning back around in case you misheard him. you were bewildered at the sight of him. once again, you didn’t hear his footsteps.
“what?” you shuffled nervously on your feet. the tension in the air was thick and hot now with the way he stared back at you, frightened yet assured.
“i want you.” there was credence in peter’s tone, and he neared to the door now. 
your eyes narrowed into the deep abyss of peter’s eyes as you sat on the foot of your bed, putting on socks. somewhere in your endeavors, you found a flicker of that familiar joke. “ha. ha. very funny,” you muttered bitterly.
it haunted you. as soon as you came out, you were taunted by those same exact words by your ‘friends,’ by your previous roommate. what made you different from them became a simple reason to cease empathy and kindness, and you were baffled that this was happening again.
maybe peter was like the others after all.
you avoided peter’s gaze in favor of the floor, the legs of your desk, your rug—anywhere but him—and you could feel the color drain out of your face, out of this room—deja vu. “look, i know it’s funny to you because i like guys and for whatever reason, straight guys like to flirt with gay men to get a reaction out of us,” 
the rug cushioned the weight of a familiar pair of feet, and you looked up, a great frown etched in your face when your eyes met peter’s. he towered over you, bewildered. “but it makes me uncomfortable. and it’s not funny to-“
he didn’t know what roused him. the pain in your voice made him want to apologize without any resort to excuses. the pout on your lips made him want to cradle your head, yet kiss you at the same time. the growing tent in his pants made him want to pin you to your bed, and simply ravish you.
it was all a blur. 
his impulsive thoughts became a reality once he stole the remaining words left in your distress, and clumsily swallowed them with a kiss. you didn’t have time to process his lips on yours because you were then pushed onto your back, stilted and surprised, as peter applied his weight on top of yours—his broader build shadowed you in welfare.
“pete-“ you groaned into the hot, breathy kiss, and despite the light attempts to push him away, you were compelled to return the wet exchange. breathlessly, you repeated, “stop, this isn’t funny-“ he kissed you again. all this time, you could’ve had him, but you deluded yourself into thinking otherwise. 
“i’m not laughing,” peter muttered, and his hips began moving into yours, aimlessly trying to alleviate the stiffness in his pants. “i want you.” his voice lowered—no longer a confession, but a demand. he rocked into you harder once he felt you throb under those tight short, and you slipped out a moan, memorizing the beat of peter that pulsated against you.
you remembered him being bashful when you two talked about your firsts. you weren’t completely inexperienced like he was, but you mentioned that it’s been a while since you’ve done anything remotely intimate. school was your focus, a relationship was your reward.
“peter,” you repeated again, he wasn’t listening. “peter.” he whispered a demand; to keep calling his name, and you couldn’t help but quietly chuckle at the cliché line often heard in soft porn.
then, you cupped your hands around his temples to pull him away. he gazed into you with ardent hunger, almost annoyed that you ruined the trail of kisses he began leaving on your neck. “did you drink without me? because if you did, then i don’t think we should-“
“i didn’t,” he sobered on the softness of your lips, and like a flip switch, he snapped out of his fictional world of you. “fuck- i’m so sorry, i didn’t even ask you if you wanted to- fuck, i even forgot to say that i like you.” he ranted to himself, beginning to pull himself away. “this was not how it was supposed to go.”
infatuation had expanded into something beyond your control, and your feelings for him ignited even more. a wick bursted into powerful flames, and it warmed your body knowing that you two shared the same sentiment.
before he completely peeled himself off your body, you pulled him down by the neck, then pressed your nose to his, grinning. “I like you too.” a peck to the tip of his nose, then the center of his lips. your onslaught of fleeting kisses to his skin drowned him, pacifying every muscle in his body until it became jelly, and also making it all the more easier to roll him under you. 
“not exactly how i imagined my first date with you, but,” you straddled his lap, roaming your hands around peter’s chest, an asset of his you’ve frequently daydreamed about. “you sure?”
the applied pressures to your waist, then bottom should’ve been a definite measure of his answer, but he smiled up at you, guiding a steady pace of your hips to his groin. he was easily distracted, suddenly cascading his other palm up your shirt then down to finally feel the bare skin he had spent long showers jerking off to. fantasies had now been served onto a platter before him, and peter planned on devouring you, piece by piece. “please.”
“must have had a lot on your mind if you couldn’t even confess to me.” it was unusual to see him like this—absolutely enthralled by your presence, high off of it. aching for more of you with the way he pushed his groin into you. “how long have you been thinking about this?” being unusual always had negative connotations to it. 
you pressed into him harder, rubbing at his print with gallant grinds. not in this moment. 
he moaned, “far too long…” then fumbled with the waistband of your shorts before doing the same with the zipper. “you’ve been driving me crazy, especially these days.” it was a simple task, a daily labor that peter was great at, but his hands shook when his finger met metal. you chuckled, and placed a comforting hand to his cheek, stroking the soft skin with the amplest caress. 
take your time. i’m not going anywhere.
“mind sharing what you thought about then?” the only time you peel yourself away from peter’s groin was to help him slide your shorts off, then his jeans. peter lifted his hips, and you two were joined together again. aching together. “just curious.” you joked by pulsating your bulge, and he shyly laughed when he saw the restrictive twitch. 
felt it.
“well... where do i start?” peter’s warm hand rested on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your erection while delicately exploring your soft skin. “there’s been so many times where i just wanted to…” he was too ashamed to finish his sentence, looking away.
“wanted to…?” your body arced over his, placing a persuading kiss to his cheek, then neck. “what was it?” they lingered, sunk deep into his skin with the utmost affection, and he left the deepest, pleasurable sighs as if you withdrew it from him. you commenced his dilemma. “tell me what you thought when you first saw me. saw that i was your roommate.”
 “i...” peter began, and you could tell his nerves got the best of him, so you rocked into him again, begged with your hips. the position made it easier to feel all of him, press into his warmth more, and you couldn’t stop. wouldn’t. “i didn’t know what to feel. i was happy, that i had someone as kind as you…” you gleefully hummed, agreeing as you continued leaving kisses to his neck.
“then i was nervous, because you were so… cute. handsome. beautiful.” he moaned when you began to grind in slow, deep strides. your bulges squeezed and pushed one another, peter did the same, growing impossibly bigger against you. “but when i saw you in those shorts, sweating because move-in day was always on a hot day…”
“yeah?” you beckoned him to finish his sentence because you were closing your eyes now, remembering that very moment because you felt the same. the way peter’s chest, his muscles, were broad and stunning under his own layer of sweat, under his loose shirt, under that naivety that you would never have dreamed to think of him as such a…
“i just wanted to fuck you.”
pervert.
the shy smile he gave you messed with your perception of him. clearly, you’ve underestimated him all this time, and you kissed him again. “so, you only thought about pleasuring yourself.”
he quickly broke the kiss to defend himself. “wait, no! t-that’s not what i meant.”
“peter, relax.” your laugh calmly settled into a comforting smile, and you blindly reached down to his thick print, feeling and squeezing at whatever you can because you were desperate to explore him. “i’m joking.” his chest rose.
for the remainder of time, you spent it stroking peter through his underwear. dryly to his frustration, but he never told you because he wanted to experience you in every way. his lips never left yours, only parted to moan into your mouth when you shoved your hand into his briefs to sate your desire to feel him bare.
peter was big in your small hand. the weight felt suffocating to your palm when you grabbed ahold of his sack, fondling his balls, then stroking his cock again, and you were intoxicated in the way he melted under you, looked into you, begged for you to go faster. 
you did. who wouldn’t when he gazed at you with the most puppy-like eyes?
he had complete control of you now, because every action, every stroke, from then on had been a journey to his personal paradise. you didn’t care that you were left abandoned, that you were aching harder than he was. watching him was more than adequate.
both pairs of briefs and shirts have been tossed to the side now, and you maintained your straddle. it was riveting to watch how much bigger peter was when you took both of your cocks together and stroked. he practically enveloped you with the weight of his length, the girth of his shaft, and you wallowed in the fact that he was incredibly bashful about it. 
peter’s hand never left your body. he charmed you by his neediness. it was clumsy in execution, but he always squeezed a moan out of you with he felt your ass, your chest, your nipples, your thighs. “fuck, pete.”
everything about you was beautiful, incredibly more so when you caved into him as he dealt kisses to your bare skin and took his own turn at jerking the both of you off.
he was eager. delirious. hard, stiffening hard, against you, and you felt every vein pulsate the harder— the faster—he squeezed and stroked. you leaned back, hands planted to the mattress beneath you, then maneuvered your hips to the rhythm of his fist. you found a pace while peter kept you steady, and fucked into his fist, against his wet cock, sliming your dripping pre-cum together with the utmost fervor. 
“wait, (m/n),” he hiccuped, and his hold on you tightened, nails dug into your left waist but you ignored his plea, fucking steadily into his fist. “stop, i’m going to-“ they fell on deaf ears, and mouth agape, peter watched you with incredulity. you can feel his body flex, your balls smushed to his when you grinned up, your pre-cum sticking to his, his to yours, like a sick web. “s-stop, oh god.”
and peter unraveled before you with a guttural moan, finishing the rest of his plea with a blasting of thick and creamy ropes to his chest, like a cannon. the force was strong enough to have a few shots land on his face, then his hair, and then somewhere above because peter was a big shooter—a strong one, you’d passionately testify. “f-fuck, i didn’t mean to cum so-“
“holy shit.” you watched peter in all his glory, then in his embarrassment, while stilted on his lap and sweating, not taking notice of the delay of your climax because it crept up on you quick. a rocket broke the cloud in your thoughts with a boom, and you spilled all over him, shooting like fireworks. “shit!”
peter was your canvas, and it was your duty to paint him. debris of sex splattered everywhere, because you somehow found the strength to continue fucking yourself into the cream of fist, unloading and unloading onto him until you were dry, heaving and dripping.  
“fuck- I didn’t mean to ruin your sheets-” he mumbled, a blush stained his cheeks, and you joined in the warmth with a kiss, panting.
“where’s the fun in all of this if you aren’t going to stain at least one thing.” your brows raised at the wet stain on the wall above peter’s head, right below your wall-shelf, and peter’s gazed followed. 
he groaned, distressed by the evident he made. “fuck, sorry…” his bashfulness only endeared you even more. 
“it’s okay,” you hopped off his lap, stretching your arms into the air. “i’ll clean you up.”
“okay,” peter lay still, his hand cautiously held over his stomach to catch the drips of his cum and yours. it was fascinating to watch the mixture flow together, strands of it melding and un-webbing as he played with the sticky residue. it was the scientist in him. “my towel is on the- fuck-“
without a beat, you took his dripping flaccid cock into your mouth, sucking off any remnants of spunk. an unfamiliar taste you weren’t used to, bitter and salty. it wasn’t until you noticed how peter’s eyes glazed over you, half-lidded because he was in heaven now, that you found the taste of him delectable. peter’s caution for staining your bed sheets was disregarded, because he knew you’d clean the rest of him off. 
after you pulled away with a soft pop, he traced your wet lips with the cum on his fingers, then his knuckles, before he pushed one by one into your mouth. one finger at first, then two, then three, you moaned erotically around his digits as peter pumped, marveling in the eagerness of your mouth. he slowly pushed more cum into your mouth. the creamy residue gathered at the corner of your mouth at first but he made sure to scoop it back in, and continued doing so until he was polished clean. 
nothing was wasted. 
the taste of you and him spread in the warmth of your tongue, and you have never felt more intoxicated.
to peter, you have never looked more beautiful.
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nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!
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m0nsterqzzz · 10 days
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The Three Times Natasha Proposed to You and the One Time You Said Yes
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pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader
summary: your girlfriend has a habit of proposing, and you have a habit of saying no.
a/n: I was gonna do this with katniss but decided it worked better with my favorite spy and also its been way to long since I wrote for herrrrrr ahhhh anyway, I LOVE HER YOUR HONOR
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
The first time Natasha proposed to you, you had only known her for 18 hours.
You were new to the team. So new in fact that you only knew three people’s names at a table with eight people since the other five were too busy all day to introduce themselves. Dinner was awkward, for you at least, as everyone else was busy chatting about their days with each other. They’re laughing, the bond they all share clear as joy feels the air.
You don’t feel that joy.
It’s not like you’re not happy to be here; you’re insanely grateful that Fury was willing to see past your history and allow you to join forces such as the incredible ones around you, but you just don’t feel very welcomed.
You don’t blame the team. After all, it’s only the first day, and Fury already told you about the fact that most of the people on that team aren’t very warm and friendly. It does kind of bug you though, how now the people you’re not familiar with even seem to notice your presence in the group.
It’s just the first day. Things will get better. You repeat for the 100th time, eyes trained on the table as you spoon some more of the food that was in the kitchen when Jarvis called for you into your mouth. It’s chicken over rice, a simple recipe, but the chicken is covered in some type of delicious sauce that you can’t get enough of.
“Is the food okay? It’s my family's recipe.” A girl with brunette hair and jade colored eyes sitting across from you speaks, nervously smiling as she pushes her fork around the food on her plate. She’s young, younger than everyone else on the team, and it makes you feel a bit better about being new as you remember what Fury said about her only joining about half a year ago.
You give a hesitant smile, answering honestly; “Oh…yeah. I love it. It’s delicious.” 
The girl smiles brighter, reaching across the table to hold out her hand for you to shake. “It’s nice to officially meet you. Fury’s told me alot about you. I’m Wanda.”
“All good things I hope.” You giggle before introducing yourself, and she laughs along with you before you both go back to eating. The rest of the team slowly introduces themselves, and out of the corner of your eye you go see the way Wanda cringes when they only do it after she gave an example.
Even if they only did it once the girl made them realize, you still feel a bit more comfortable here then you did a while ago.
You notice Wanda eyeing your rings as you guys continue to eat, so you put your hand on the table in between you too. Her eyes shoot up to you in surprise, clearly not knowing that you noticed it. “Sorry for the staring. I just…I really like your rings. I love wearing them myself and I’ve never seen any like that. They’re beautiful.”
That’s how you guys start up in a conversation about rings, and then a few minutes later you’re sliding off one of your rings to give to her. She seems like the nicest person here, and you can already tell you’re going to be great friends. When you get it off, it accidently flies out of your hand, bouncing on the table before it falls off and lands somewhere on the floor. You turn red in embarrassment at the way everyone falls silent, staring at you in amusement before a redheaded woman slides out of her seat and kneels down on one knee to search for the item.
You met her earlier when you went to the gym to train, and she even helped you learn a few awesome fighting moves before she left to let you do your own thing. You can’t deny that Natasha is beautiful.
The woman smiles when she finds it, grasping the metal in her hand before she turns to face you, still on one knee as she holds it out for you to take as if she’s proposing.
If she notices the way it looks, she doesn’t say anything until Tony, the man you met when he blew up a lab earlier, laughs and mumbles under his breath, “I’m not paying for that wedding.”
You giggle, watching as Natasha stands up and turns to glare at him before facing you once again and putting it on the table near your plate. “Shut up Tony.” She mumbles before sitting back down in her own seat, and you say before shoving food into your mouth when the embarrassment sets in, “I’m not ready to settle down. Sorry Nat.”
Everyone just chuckles, and you are left with a small smile and new found happiness.
The second time she’d done it, she’d almost had you fooled that it was real.
You and her had been dating for three months, and you guys were absolutely inseparable. You’ve learned a lot about her in the year you’ve been an Avenger, and she sometimes opens up about her past. Her little sister, the red room, Dreykov.
Anyway, Fury had sent you on a mission with her, your best friend Wanda, and Steve Rogers to go and steal a flash drive from a destroyed hydra base then find some place quickly to look at what's on it. He said to find the nearest place as people would already be on the search for us, so that's why you got Nat to pull over at a mall. Not for clothes or a new pair of shoes, but to go into one of the electronic stores and use one of their computers to read what's on the file.
It was easy until Natasha noticed one of the workers looking at Steve in suspicion as they see him inserting the drive into one of the computers, and you’re about to abort the mission before your girlfriend grabs your hands and tugs you to the middle of the store, dropping into one knee and glancing at Wanda. The witch seems to get the hint even though you don’t understand what's happening, but you do when the young girl uses her magic to make a ring appear in Natashas hand. It’s beautiful, but you can tell it’s just an illusion to fool the people around you as small red whisps surround your best friend's hands.
“I’ve loved you since the day I met you.” The redhead starts, loud enough to attract the attention of everyone in the store but too loud as to not seem unusual. “I know you’re having my brother's baby,” She continues with that most serious face you’ve ever seen, and you have to try your hardest not to burst out laughing. “But I can treat you better than he ever could.”
The whole crowd of people in the store are now focused on you, even the workers which gives Steve the time he needs to enter the hard drive into one of the computers and read what's on it.
“So what do you say hottie? You wanna do this or not? Marry me?” You stare at her for a few minutes, eyes glancing at the blonde haired man who silently laughs at the scene in front of him before sending you a thumbs up to show he’s done and you guys can go.
“No!” Everyone quietly gasps, all looking away as Natasha fakes offense. “No! What the fuck? What kind of proposal is this? I’m just trying to buy a new phone, Stacy! And you’ve got a huge barbecue stain on that sweater. This is truly the best you could do?”
You're having way too much fun with it as you scoff before gently slapping her, trying your hardest not to laugh at the way everyone gasps even louder while you storm out.
Your friends and girlfriend quickly catch up with you, and you all finally burst out laughing by the time you’re getting in the car and driving away from the mall right as some scary looking military vehicle pulls up to the building. “Did you have to slap me?” Natasha laughs out, the ring box Wanda had magically created is now gone as she sits next to you in the back seat. “I feel like you enjoyed that way too much.”
“I did enjoy it. I’m also just practicing for the day you do propose to me.” She lets out a fake annoyed groan, slinging an arm over your shoulder as she pulls you to lay against her side.
Despite the playful mood, you can’t help but feel a fluttery feeling in your chest and a warm blush coating your face at the thought of being married to this girl. Little did you know, she was feeling the exact same.
When she did it a third time, it almost seemed like it was second nature for her to pull out a ring box and propose to you. 
You had just got back to the Avengers tower after a lunch date, and she froze on the doorstep when she realized you were no longer beside her. She turns in circles, panic filling her when she doesn’t see you. She’s a spy for fuck sakes, how could she have not noticed something happening to you.
 Her panic fades when you pop out from behind a thick tree, a snowball made from the small amount of snow on the grass in hand as you send her a mischievous smile. She doesn’t have any time to move before you’re launching it in her direction, practically falling over with laughter as it hits her forehead and then breaks into pieces.
The redhead still seems a bit shocked, but she quickly gets over it as she groans with a grin and runs over to harshly tackle you to the ground. It knocks the wind out of you, but you’re both still laughing so hard your stomach hurts as she grabs some snow from beside your head and then lets it fall onto you. “You wanna play that fucking game? Oh we can play that game honey.”
You shake your head, but the bright smile on your face tells her that you’re not actually scared. “No. I’m sorry Tasha. We can talk this out.” When she makes a, “tsk…tsk” noise with her mouth, you use all your strength to push her off of you, sprinting towards your home even though you can hear the sound of Natasha’s boots hastily crunching the snow beneath them as she runs after you.
She wraps her arms around your waist, easily picking you up off the ground and spinning you around. As cringy as it is, your laugh makes her laugh, and the moment is so perfect as she slowly lets you down so she can look you in the eyes.
“Wait a second.” Natasha mumbles, before grabbing something from her pocket, telling you to turn around for a minute while she makes you a surprise. You draw shapes in the snow in the meantime, your fingers practically numb but by the time you’re done, every planet is drawn into the frozen canvas. “Alright. Turn around.” She speaks again, and your smile grows- if possible- at the sight.
She’s messily formed a ring with the wrapper from a straw at dinner, and now she’s balanced on one knee in the icy snow as she grins up at you. “Will you marry me, and be mine forever?”
You pretend to think about it for a moment, finally holding at your left hand for her to put the ring on as you yell out, “Of course I’ll marry you!”
The russian girl laughs, once again picking you up to twirl you around before she sets you down to kiss you easier.
From a window high up in the Avengers tour, Wanda watches the interaction while drinking her tea and then closing her curtains. “When is she gonna do it for real?” She whispers to herself, already so done with the fact that Natasha has proposed to you three times, and yet she hasn’t been able to wear a pretty bridesmaid dress in her whole live.
The day Natasha proposed in the privacy of the cabin Tony’s letting you borrow for a weekend, twinkling lights dressing the living room and the dining table decorated with candles, rose petals and fancy wine that’s probably from Pepper, was the time you know she wasn't kidding.
As the sun sets behind the clouds, you and Natasha sit across from each other with your free hands hooked together beside your plates. The setting sun casts gentle rays upon your face from the window, illuminating your features with a golden light. You two share a quiet, comfortable silence for a moment before she looks up from her plate to you, a smile gracing her lips. You look at Natasha, heart beating softly in your chest from the soft, gentle atmosphere of the moment. She lets go of her fork to use that hand to grab ahold of your other hand, your fingertips intertwined gently. Your eyes meet across the table, and for a second it’s just you guys in the world. 
The girl then speaks, her words sincere and clear, as she makes her proposal. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you; I’ve wanted to since the first date we went on. I was scared though…..scared of finding someone I love in a world that could take it away so easily. But now….now I realize. It doesn’t matter. As long as I get to be with you for what time we have left, it’s worth it. So," she says softly, tilting her head to the side and smiling as she grabs a ring box from her pocket and opening it so you can see the diamond ring inside before standing up from her seat so she can get down on one knee next to the table. 
"Will you marry me?" 
The question hangs in the air as you gaze into the girl's eyes and processes the words. Your mind reels from the unexpectedness of it all, but you also can't help the surge of joy welling in her chest.
“Yes. Yes of course I will!” Her grin brightens, and she’s still kneeled as she wraps her arms around your waist to hug you as tight as she can. You join her on your knees so you’re on her level, grabbing her face with both hands and pulling her into a passionate kiss. You would’ve married her the first time she asked, but you’re somehow glad you waited until now to say yes. This is perfect.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
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nova-amor · 5 months
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"shh, what did i say, cariño?" miguel cooed, soft lips brushing against the outer shell of your ear. his scent was overwhelming, borderline nauseating with the way it invaded your nostrils. yet, you were addicted to it. "we made a promise, right? you remember our agreement?"
and, you did. before miguel had whisked you away into a nearby closet, before he had truly given into your advances— he had you promise that you would be quiet, that not even a peep would leave those pretty little lips. or, he wouldn't hesitate to stop.
you nodded your head, big eyes brimming with tears as you pressed your lips together, halting any further sound from escaping. miguel chuckled, caressing the skin of your thighs, his body sandwiching yours between him and a wall.
his hips slowly retracting from yours before diving right back into your wet heat. his thrusts were slow, deep, carving the curve, width, and length of his cock into your squishy walls.
"that's my good girl," miguel purred, the white glimmer of his sharp canines shining even in the darkness of the storage closet. your suit had been torn to shreds, ruined and thrown to the floor in the heat of the moment. your body exposed and vulnerable for him. just the way he liked it. "always keepin' her promises— always bein' good for me."
the wet squelching of his cock stretching you out echoed off the walls, your adrenaline spiked as you fought the urges to moan, to cry, to proclaim your undying love for the man before you. miguel's cock nudged you in all the right places, your eyes crossing and back arching as it rubbed against the sensitive gooey spot inside you.
one of miguel's hand settled over your lips, covering your lower face as the knot inside you unraveled. finally reaching the sweet peak you had been so desperately craving. acknowledging his plan, your moans and mewls spilled into his hand like putty, muffled and wetting the skin of his palm.
"cum for me, nena— cream all over my cock— milk me, baby—" he guided you, hips continuing to rut into you. your walls spasmed around him, a white ring of thick cream forming around the base of his shaft, drooling down to his balls. "this is what you wanted, right? wanted to use my cock to get off? well, it's my turn— and, you better keep your promise."
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lives-in-midgard · 1 month
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Y/N: Can you do the thing?
Bucky [grumpy]: What thing?
Y/N: You know, the thing that makes me so happy.
Bucky: Oh. [starts to smile]
Y/N: Thank you honey.
Bucky: You're welcome doll. [pulls y/n into a hug]
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samodivaa · 5 months
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Thrill me, Fulfill me
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You agreed to help for one mission—now you are both lustful and carnal, affected by sex pollen—you are flint, he is tinder.
Warnings - sex pollen, smut, rough/possessive sex, Hydra past, breeding kink, choking kink, multiple orgasms
Words - 8k
(the 3D render is for this fic, enjoy :3)
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The horizon tips on its side, and slowly, hour by hour, the day spills out and soon the night will spread its darkness—traveling through the countryside is a charming escape and in a chronicle of events, with the light of the days—you feel the light inside too, your human spirit wanders in thoughts as you sit on the BMW’s trunk with closed eyes. It is June, and the world smells of roses, moments like these leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their going—in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, Bucky and freedom—your soul feels at peace.
“I talked with Sam, he wants me to help him” There is an endearing nervousness in his voice “I was wondering if you would like to come with us”
In an instant, you reply with an annoyed face “No”
“No? Come on, you need people other than me in your life”
He scolds as he nests between your legs, fingers finding their way on both sides of your hips, drawing soft circles as they travel up towards your waist.
You arch an eyebrow at him, as if the answer is obvious ��I don’t need others”
“You will love Sam, I told him about us, I mean-about us living together”
“You did, why?” you clip your words, hissing them into his face as you give a wide-eyed, searching look.
“I used to invite him over to my apartment, he started wondering why I stopped. I wanted him to know anyways”
“What else did you tell him?” you look at him with an arrested expression. His smile fades, and he finds himself staring into your eyes “James?”
It is only a brief moment, but you catch his blink of surprise at your demanding tone before he offers a tentative smile.
“I-I told him about your connections and he was hoping that-” he trails off quietly and you notice a tightness around his mouth and a dimness to his usually bright eyes.
You regard him thoughtfully and he sees the comprehension dawning in your eyes. You know exactly what he is asking.
“Did you miss the part of how I built them?” you ask, your voice dripping with sarcasm.
He huffs in annoyance “Well no, but don’t worry-”
“Oh, hey Sam, I am another brainwashed assassin and when I escaped I did it willingly, for money, nice to meet you by the way”
“I get it, but you are changi-”
You snap, pinching your eyebrows close together.
“And this is my former partner who I used to occasionally fuck at Hydra and now that we have reconnected, we are fucking and living together”
“Anything else you want to add?” 
“No, that's all” you finish bitterly, furious with him for letting Sam know so much about you.
“He already met you once in Madripoor, he knows about your past. Trust me, he is a good person, he accepted me”
You let out a hollow laugh
“I am not Captain America’s best friend, James. I am nobody, I don’t even have a legal identity”
You explain in a humorous yet deprecating tone, staring into space.
“Look at me, you need to trust me” he coos, his blue eyes have a doorway to your heart, the place where his care for you resides “I know that you are scared, but you need other people in your life”
It's the caring that he lovingly gives, the passion that he shows—that convinces you every time.
“If I break your heart, I break mine, darling”
Shifting your mouth from a frown into a light-hearted smile, you let out a small chuckle from underneath your breath. His metal hand rests on the small of your back, in that sweet spot that makes you feel feminine and protected—vanity, fear, uncertainty—all such distortions within your own ego—condition you to stay silent about your own feelings. Your programmed mind-pattern still needs to heal, all you need is time, you will get there eventually.
You kiss him on the cheek, which kind of surprises him.
“Хубаво, ще дойда” (Okay, I will come)
His gaze flickers up to your eyes and he can detect no deceit, no mockery. 
There are many circumstances that lead to arrogance: one is when you're wrong and you can't face it—but you decide to face it this time, because you know that your brain relies on the familiar. It is reluctant to experience the unknown, which is the very essence of your human life.
The past should have no power over the present, but it still does sometimes—anger and death are deeply rooted, your emotional thermostat is broken. Everything in you is broken—you view yourself as pieces and Bucky somehow sees you as a whole.
Inside, your soul was so cold that you hated everything. You even despised the sun, for you knew you would never be able to play in its warm presence—you were condemned to stick to the past, working as a hitman for years. Everything changed when Bucky decided to track you down. You knew he was spying on you, because you made it easier for him.
You were afraid of the aloneness that you trusted for so long, but that is the truth that you still store in the granary of your mind. Maybe you will tell him one day. Maybe one day you will let him know that he helps you abandon your corporeal prison.
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"Я просто люблю запах страха" (I just love the smell of fear) you whisper—a knife-wielding lunatic.
You face the attackers in a kind of instantaneous flash and see the disconsolate eyes, which remain stamped on your heart like the hot coals of fear, the power of death is then borne out by you—the queen at the bloody carnival, not afraid to spill blood while Bucky tries to prevent hurting, killing people at all cost.
It is easy when you work together, just as in the past—but he is holding back, you are not used to seeing him fight so carefully—Winter’s brutality is non-existent.
You sigh as the last man drops dead to the ground. With a knife in his chest. Or, rather, a pair of knives in the chest.
Yes, you helped them locate the rumored Hydra base, but Bucky’s intense paleness on his face shows regret, because you still don’t mind killing—you give him a pitying smile when your eyes meet before your system is poisoned with something.
It is such a tumultuous and intemperate invasion that you forget why you are here. And then your eyes meet again, there is fascination in his gaze, menaced by some invisible danger, and you want to succumb the terrible desire to weep when you realize what it is and you look at the mysterious trembling of your hands—your gaze goes up, but Bucky is nowhere to be seen.
He knows he has to go somewhere, he heads back to the apartment and he has feelings of sorrow, regret, directionless rage, a broad feeling of impotence. The horror of this misfortune penetrates Bucky so deeply that he is close to a panic attack—as if reliving the nightmare he sometimes has—Hydra giving him the pollen back in 1990.
He wanders all through the rooms as if walking in his sleep, chewing on his quiet rage.
He knows the theoretical mechanics of the pollen and he can barely stay on his feet because of the weakness of his knees, his skin is burning and he can’t resist the urgent need to palm himself through his pants—it starts slow and will go progressively worse. 
He rubs his hand over his scalp, where his long hair used to be—now shaved very close to his head and bristling against his fingers, he lowers his blue eerily crystalline eyes before closing them. He feels like he should be crying, but he couldn’t summon the tears.
—it’s all his fault. Why did he need to come to your apartment a year ago, on a beautiful August’s evening?
„I knеw that we were following me, Soldat,“ you loudly acknowledge him, drawing out the derogatory term while your back is turned to him.
Stillness wraps Bucky up in a cold embrace, a chill running down his body as he hears you speak. On the string spun of your angel voice, grief and pain drowns him. The tone drawn from memory in his dreams it’s the same, unblinking, robotic as you offer him one spare look before focusing on cutting vegetables on the wooden board.
He exhales, then he slowly enters the apartment. „It is not Soldat, it’s Sergeant now“ his breath hitches and he stops as soon as he enters the room.
There is a crack in his stoic expression, excruciating memories flooding his mind. He knew that somewhere, some day, maybe at a less miserable time, you may see each other again, but he couldn't wait any longer.
The memories are still in his mind and the pain—too ripe in his heart. The more deeply he felt, the less he was able to breath, thinking of grief, and of getting past it.
That's why he came. He needs you in more ways that he wants to confess.
„Oh? What do you want, Barnes?“ your face is carefully blank.
„I wanted to talk to you“ he starts, taking a couple of steps towards.
Shadows lick up the side of his cheekbones, making his skin gold as he slowly walks to the opposite side of the kitchen island, you hear him move the wooden seating.
„And you couldn’t just-I don’t know…have knocked on the door?“
„Sorry, I didn’t know how to-“
He says, a tremor makes his voice uneven. Bucky takes in a deep breath to balance out the embarrassment thrumming through him.
„It is easier to be loyal to past habits, can’t blame you“ you murmur, voice perfectly respectful as you think about it with a heavy heart.
You said it as a matter of fact, without the scorn and mockery, but as an accepted truth before placing the knife you have been using, on the cutting board and finally facing him completely as you step closer to the island as well, leaning forward on your elbows.
But the wintery feeling of the pollen is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring that summer's memory of meeting you.
The memory played in his head, with a hopeless nostalgia that he was completely disoriented—he doesn't care if you are heartless, vicious and vulgar, stupid, grasping with incurable programming and mental problems, he enjoys spending time with you. He would rather have misery with you than happiness with any other person, because it is shared, you have a deep and silent understanding.
He was so happy when you suggested living together four months ago—he was okay with the sleepovers at each other's apartments—never was bothered with the need to rush your companionship.
The key to personal development lies in the daily routine—creating new memories with you stretches out psychological time, and lengthens his perception of both your and Bucky’s lives. When he wakes up from a nightmare he is so relieved, because he wakes to a dream, he enjoys the miracle of living with each other as much at the table as in bed.
Bucky finally lays on the bed, his head aches. He admits that he is still human, vulnerable, and sensitive—but he begins to remember how it had been when Hydra gave him the pollen and his self revolted at this, hates himself for not being able to fight it, hates himself for bringing you here.
He is sick with conflict, destructive emotions festeres in him while this sludge eats away at his insides and Bucky is acutely conscious of the swift passage of time, it will make him become blunt and callous—there is a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get for him, but maybe this is what he deserves.
When you push open the bedroom door, you can’t prevent it from scraping against the uneven floor. Suddenly, in the absolute darkness of his mind, Bucky is brought back to reality. He is not surprised, for without knowing, he has been expecting you to come.
You close the door behind you as he stands up on his elbows—wondering why are you such a stubborn, blind, obtuse woman—why are you here?
Your scent carries across the room and paralyzes him with longing.
“Stay away, why did you fucking follow me?”
You stop in shock at the words he utters—they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless.
He is vulnerable, slightly paranoid. Although his voice is broken by uncertainty and his hands seem to doubt the existence of things—he tries to appear composed.
You can feel his eyes traveling up your whole body, staying on your side for a split second before moving up to meet your gaze.
“James, we don’t have another choice, we don’t have time”
You can't blame him—he is scared, scared and frozen, afraid of what he can do to you...the old primitive urge for sex. It's getting harder to control it with every passing minute—every second is lived with terrible intensity. It all flows over you with a screaming ache of pain—as you see him, the need grows even faster...and all you can do is remember and feel—the effects of the pollen—like a disease of the blood, dispersing throughout the body.
He looks like a bundle of past recollections, knotted up in a bundle of flesh.You remember what his flesh has gone through—but you also remember what he put you through that day. You feel the naked fear, the urge of self-preservation, you appear solid in front of him, but you are mimicking nothingness.
“God, I smell you. So hot and sweet”
The blank hell in the back of his mind starts to break through, spewing forth like a dark pestilence, the pollen eats away the pith of his humanity—the chaotic words pour out of his mouth as he gets up from the bed and you self-paralyze, your back hits the door—but this is the only way that will pull you both out of the plunge of—pain, need.
Your sexual attraction to him has been heightened beyond measure, as much as you try to bury it deep down in fear, the lust is getting greater than any other feeling or emotion. Every part of him is heightened to you now...his voice included.
He stops in front of you, belatedly realizing where his feet have carried him. There is no glamor, no attempt to hide it, nothing: his need taking slowly over all his senses. The unwelcomed bubble of intrusive lust, sinking into an even more heavily occluded state—you feel it too as he molds his front to yours and pins your breasts against his chest.
You are mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes—you can drown in those eyes and it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. His beautiful features offer themselves to your gaze as you trail through them, annoyed at how attractive he looks—putting your mind into a darker cloud of irritation, waiting for him to do whatever he wants.
You feel stuffy, there is not enough air to breathe as he cages you against the door, his consciousness already vanishing and deforms itself in something primal, there is a delicious animal fire in his gaze.
“I want to taste you so desperately, it rages through me-fuck, fuck this-I want to fuck you”
His eyes are growing moist with indignation, with angry impotence, he is barely controlling himself. It is the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning— it’s hard—but not harder than his cock.
“Do it, come on” you gasp out.
“If you don’t get out of here, you know what will happen”
He explains weakly, and when you say nothing, he grabs your waist with both hands, vision already blurring. His bones fill up with foam, a languid fear, and a terrible desire.
Bucky’s control dies a slow death, shedding layers like leaves until—there will be none—he tends to be particularly rough, aggressive and possessive when given the pollen. You remember the feeling of possessiveness he had as the Winter Soldier over you, so intense it transformed into an obsession over your body.
“I'm not leaving, I need this as much as you” you say, tremulous with longing.
Bucky stares at your mouth as you speak—it looks provocative to him when you talk.
“Enough, dammit, leave”
His voice tightens, it pierces your soul—half agony, half lust.
You still have the choice of running away and finding someone else to do it, but leaving Bucky behind—you know there is not a girl in the world that can handle him, no one else has the serum, but you—your brain is ricocheting in between. It all drifts to the periphery of the mind when you meet Bucky’s eyes.
“It’s normal-” you say haltingly, your expression turns guarded.
He is livid, a sad look on his face
“We are not normal” he interrupts with a soft firmness “It’s insane to pretend we are”
You are both aware. Catastrophically aware.
“Stop talking, we’ve been through that once-”
and you look so well-equipped for this that is seems abnormal to Bucky, he is conquered by the obstinacy of you—so docile and willing to help—he wants to be emancipated for the moment from the torment of the pollen, but the guilt is still eating him.
“Do you remember the year it happened?”
"You always ask me whether I remember the stupid years, lets just-” you say with a shrug.
"It matters, it matters to me. I hate that you remember, I hate myself for what I've done to you” He explains, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his human hand.
"James” you whisper his name tremulously “I don’t blame you for anything”
His pain is paramount and you want it to end. His pain, his guilt. You are willing to suffer for the rest of your night so that he can take the easy way out of his needs. You admit it to yourself, without bitterness—you need to sacrifice dearly on behalf of Bucky. 
“I’ll lose control” What you cannot forgive is dishonesty—you would rather know the hideously unflattering truth of his devastating visions than foul evasions “If you try to run now, I will probably chase you down anyways”
With all that waiting you have lost the strength of your legs, the firmness of your breasts, your tenderness look—barely keeping your heart intact. Maddened by that prodigious talking, you shamelessly groan, closing your eyes.
“This is bad,” you whimper “Oh God, this is bad. Please, do something”
The next critical manifestation: the unbearable pain.
“Snezinka-” (snowflake)
“Stay with me” your eyes shone “Play with me, please” like those of a cat.
In that state of hallucinated lucidity—you just can’t take it anymore. Presently the need grows stronger, hesitating then no longer. The attempts to conceal the pollen’s effects don't work anymore.
“At least…give me permission this time” Bucky shakes his head, sadness vibrating through his body as he speaks through clenched teeth.
“Yes, do whatever you want” you moan, shaking, desperate for his touch.
And then you see something possessive wash over him, making your body shiver in anticipation.
“Please, I need yo-”
You say, nodding at the soul-reaching blue crystals, not looking away from him, but Bucky doesn’t let you finish as he kisses you. His lips are warm, his body is heat and muscles against you. He kisses you like a tide, gentle at first, but with the ability to drown, his fingers digging into your waist, urging you ever-nearer to him, even when it’s physically impossible to be. Then his fingers slithers over your chest, hands immediately find your breasts and he starts to massage them for his own pleasure.
His fingers curl around the edges of your soaked blood shirt, pulling and eventually tearing it away from your skin.
There is lust and there is pain, a whirling wheel—not stopping.
He wastes no time, kissing you deeply again, already missing the feeling of your skin.
“I am yours, you know that”
A simple reply, his voice cut into you like glass, his words bleeding into your skin. It isn’t something to be argued against, it’s the truth and you acknowledge that. It’s ridiculous, absurdly sentimental to think that you managed to lay a claim on him like you did in the past. 
You are trying to think of something, coming up short when he presses his hips flush against yours again, the chest harness wrinkling under the tight grip of your fists, pulling him and he hems you up against the door, grinding his cock against you. You slide one hand downwards, wrapping around his hard manhood and squeeze, Bucky moans quietly and involuntarily rolls into the contact, desperately seeking relief.
“Fuck” he says, a bit too breathlessly.
„James-this is not enough“ you undulate your hips against the aching bulge.
His name falling on his ears like that sent chills down his spine, he can hear the beat of his heart, his palms belong on your skin as he closes the gap between you. Nothing is sweeter, nothing else than you—lust is spreading like quickfire in his veins, groaning in the kiss.
“I know, I know” he whispers, a hint of exasperation and affront in his tone, leaning forwards to kiss you yet again, teasingly licking at your lips as he pulls away.
Sexual perversions mix with guilt and adrenaline as his mind sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed.
You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you watch him between your spread legs—his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs. The corners of his mouth curve upward when he notices you staring a moment too long as he removes his jacket and shirt.
You remove your own pants and then you spread your legs open, positioned right in front of his standing body—one hand toys with your breast through the bra while the fingers of the other hook in your panties and drags them down your legs fast before throwing them in his direction.
His breath stutters as he catches them with his metal arm, becoming more and more aroused with every beat of his heart that runs down his shaft. It’s becoming more painful. He starts to pump his cock, the veins bulging beneath his grip—even in his large hand, it looks intimidating, the veins in his neck tightening.
He’s quite tall with broad shoulders and an athletic physique that even his leather jacket cannot hide. Your eyes continue their upward travel to his strong square-shaped face framed with short brown hair that falls to his shoulders and deep, blue eyes. 
He then craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten now.
It is the impatience of the way he tears your bra from your body that really scares you: the pollen getting the better of him and you spread your legs wide, exposing your overall and the fragrance of the essences permits in the air, he smells it.
His cock nudges around your sleek mound until he gasps as he guides his sticky cockhead glides through your delicate folds. He doesn’t say anything as he slips inside you, burying himself to the hilt.
Sex with you this time is different, he has never felt this dominant, this claiming, this selfish. He is so far in that his balls are right against your pussy lips.
His greedy lips are once again on your skin, devouring everything he can—licking, sucking, and kissing, not holding back his throaty moans. He drags his lips up your throat, along your jaw, back toward your mouth. His lips are usually gentle and loving, promising long days and summer forever—but they soon turn sharp, peppermint, winter.
Animal logic. Prey. Predator… teeth dragging against your neck, living marks. The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. He snarls out gluttonous groans against your skin as you clench and seize, pounding you harder as your body contracts. Pleasure breaks out like a wildfire, reaching around your temples; shooting up and down your spine.
You're perfect when you're underneath him, it's where you belong, beautiful face and pretty wide eyes locked onto his powder-blue orbits—curves cushioning him, your obedient body lush, muscular, but still feminine, your eyes flashing—and all he wants is to ruin you.
It's a sinful sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, you've got the prettiest expression as he grips your legs and folds them up to fuck his dick into you even harder than before.
“Don’t stop, don’t, please”
There is something raw and pleading in your voice that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving.
He continues to trail his lips down the front of your throat and you realize that he is mouthing words against your skin “Mine. Mine. Mine”
“You feel so good every time, snezinka” he murmurs at your ear as slide to your throat and he tightens his grip on both sides on your neck, reducing the blood and oxygen to the brain. When he loosens, the rush of blood and oxygen to the brain results in an explosion of dopamine, followed by a shamelessly loud moan from your lips “I think that I love you”
“We’re drugged. That’s why,” you gaspe “Did you forget?”
Bucky acknowledges your words, they sink into him—he focuses his attention on your skin. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath, skin breaks out into a pale sweat and your eyes fill with tears. His trusts are ruthless.
“There is no pleasure as good as the feel of your pretty cunt wrapped around me” a dark edge creeps into his tone.
He says as he fills out pounds you, drawing a muffled scream from your throat as he starts to thrust more rapidly, setting a demanding rhythm.
Something strange starts to rage inside him, hearing you inhale sharply as he continues to kiss and bite your neck, leaving bruises deliberately and as he fucks you deeper, wanting to mark you in an entirely different way—he wants to breed you.
And you know you will wear the bruises of Bucky’s hands as you wear the scars of Soldat.
All extremes of the pollen are allied with madness, finally consuming his brain and body.
“You are so beautiful”
He says into your skin, tears welling, confused, mingling in his throat. Old wounds never truly heal, your past will never fully heal anyways. That one tear, that tiny, salty, droplet of moisture is a means of expression—joy, and torment. Although it's just a small tear, it is the heaviest thing in the world. And it doesn't do a damn thing to fix anything in this situation.
“James-” your whole body exhaled a lugubrious lament, your heart breaks for him.
His eyes are always soulful, in some way; they seem to say things that you know he's probably never say out loud.
“I know baby, I know,” he nibbles on the side of your neck “You are so beautiful, I am sorry-so sorry, I can’t stop” his growls erupt from his chest, the primal noise flooding your senses, making your insides clench around his length “I need this, I need you”
You’re powerless…utterly at his mercy and that’s what makes you cum—his voice sends shudders through your body, reacting in all the right ways to the words. The orgasm has gutted your vocal chords, and all you manage is a small gasp, tears slipping down the old salty trails as he doesn’t stop, his head lulling on your shoulder.
He leans down, nose brushing against yours as he pants, thrusts never faltering, his mouth hangs open with bliss, his cock plunging into you with skin-slapping speed and he finally reaches his orgasm, cock spurting a thick dollop of cum with each throb. He closes his eyes, because of the volcanic eruptions of fever still goes through his body—his orgasm is long, raw, reaching all his body senses.
Sex is unthinkable without roughness tonight—he is already thinking about his second orgasm—should he just cum in your mouth when he makes you fall to your knees… or if he should take you by the hair before he’s finished and fuck you into a sobbing heap before blowing his load. Of the few times Soldat has face fucked you—gagging you to near vomiting—you’ve never miss a drop of cum. He remembers it.
His hand closes around your throat and the grip tightens, slowly cutting into your skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. Your head is spinning, ears are ringing—suddenly, without warning, he withdraws completely, leaving you coughing and gasping for air. As you try to catch your breath, you feel him get up from the bed which urges you to come back to your senses faster.
In his temporary madness, an idea comes to his mind.
In seconds, he is back on top and when your vision finally clears—his lusty orbs descend to your cheeks, detailing your skin before leaning in to lick off your tears—some form of mercy which you don’t need.
He is now in that state of fire that excites you. You want to be burnt.
His eyes drift leisurely back up to your face and he smiles, nova-flare eyes blazing into your own—you look for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, and you find nothing but possessiveness.
But something is not right.
His eyes are cold and dark.And your heart stops.
He is taking you over. Staking a claim.
He slowly thrusts his hips forward, his cock pressing into your front, earning a squeal from you as he ruts back and forth dragging his length across your opening and then slowly plunges into you. You exhale, trembling as you feel the tip pressing against your opening and penetrating you. He is mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you, filling you up to the brim.
Bucky brings both of your wrists above your head and grips them in his metal arm, restraining you from moving them—and you tremble like a downy rabbit caught in the clutches of a wolf—he seizes you as boldly as Soldat used to capture his favorite prey—you—in the past.
A flash blinds you for a moment and you see him holding his phone—this feels surreal—leaving you breathless with an inexpressible delight of it. Bucky’s inner voice of lust speaks, it is so spontaneous and unannounced. Your mind searches for the logical thought of his action.
“Fuck, I can cum just by looking at it” He musters his primest tone, throwing the device to the side.
You whimper as your abdomen contracted painfully around his hard length at his words. He lets his fingers release your hands as his cold digits swipes back the hair from your face. Cursing, he grips the back of your neck and brings your lips to his while the metal ones grip your hip so tightly you are sure he’d leave a bruise. You whimper as he starts to fuck you, slamming you into the matress.
The usual warmth of his hands is not there. They chill your skin as they hold you close to his body, and you realize he is scared. The extreme joy mixes with the bone-crushing grief—what if you don’t want to be around him after this night? What if you condemn him, consider it with high and unjust resentment and leave him? It pierces his soul, but he can’t stop—he is half agony, half animal...the past beats inside like a second heart now.
Your soft fingers trail his face and continue to attempt a connection that he refuses to acknowledge at first—the past slips and vanishes like sand between the warm touch of your fingers, acquiring material weight, only in its recollection, because the more shared past there is in any relationship, the more present you need to be for each other.
“Let go," you whisper and he loosens the grips—he is ashamed of holding you so tightly "No, not of me," you say smiling.
You look right into his eyes, right into him as far as you can see, because you want him to hear you, you want him to hear you with everything you say—and his chest tightens as if some euphoric drug has gone straight to his nervous system—but it is not the pollen, it is you—reassuring him, leaving a psychic imprint in his mind.
It’s both a blessing and a curse to share the same trauma. And even though you are sometimes harsh, restless and despairing—he is your weak spot, you love him in your own way.
"You can hold on to me as long as you want. Let go of the past, let go of the pain" you say, giving him permission, taking him into your flesh, a clear invitation to madness.
Emotions clamp down on his heart, but he stays terribly silent. Bucky says nothing after that, only your name, as if your name is not a name but a question. He shakes his head and kisses you, long and quiet.
He grabs your jaw in one hand forcing you to look at him, tears coursing down your cheeks as he thrusts into you, making low, growling noises in his throat—a predator purring with pleasure while it devours its prey, picking up a brutal pace once again. Your legs tighten around his waist, hooking over his hip bones as he practically folds you in half, nails digging into his back, surely breaking his skin with your manicured fingers.
He groans at the pain and removes your hands, intertwines his fingers with yours, pins your wrists flat to the mattress on either side of your head. He holds himself up over your body as he fucks into you, supporting his weight on his forearms. His cock is slamming into you, balls bouncing against your clit just right, the sight of his well-muscled body, covered in a thin layer of sweat, invites you to utter depravity, it is what drives you over the edge.
“You look so good taking all of me” he pants against your throat “I will fill you again-so good”
Hard, long, deep trust that forces moans out of both of you.
You whimper and nod dumbly, screw your eyes tight as another wave of pleasure spread throughout your body in orgasmic tingles as he pulls his own climax with you. He presses his face against your neck as his hips lose any and all sense of tempo and when he finally stills, he holds himself deep inside as he leans back—with every breath, your bust heaves, sweat droplets running between them and attracting his gaze.
It pollutes his mind even more, it cripples his morality, because he is infatuated with fucking you like this again—is it the pollen at this point? 
''Bear with me'' He murmurs, gritting his teeth ''I need…more” his cock slowly sliding out of your tight pussy before sliding back inside with equal slowness, sliding through copious amounts of thin lubrication and cum. Your legs wrap around his waist and prevent him from pulling out even if he wants to—your understanding, your willingness is a kind of ecstasy to him.
The blue moons in his eyes are glimmering with an emotion you can’t put your finger on. What is he thinking about?
A part of him cares about you.
But there’s a depravity in his mind right now that enjoys seeing you like this—your hair is in disarray, several tendrils scattered across your face and constricting your view of him, sweat pricks at your hairline and down your back. There is something unmistakably exultant in turning you into a mess—such a mess of cum and tears. Gently, he brushes the tendrils out of your face, tenderness in his touch—that’s the part of him that cares.
“I need you on the floor, on all fours” —that's the part of him that's deprived tonight.
You can feel the desire. The thirst. The absolute beast threatening to tear from his skin.
Soldat loved to fuck you against solid ground. He never truly left, sometimes Bucky is on the verge of cracking and showing the color of the thing beneath, but you don’t mind, you are not scared, you never were. 
All he wants is for you to be filled, marked, bruised from staying up all night, taking his cock into your body until you are depleted of all your strength. Even then, he will fuck you. He doesn’t say more, but he groans as he gets up—what a sinful twist of his lips, watching you slowly get up, your legs are incapable of supporting your weight much longer.
Your cunt hurts, too—you feel his cum dripping down your thighs, making yourself position in doggy style, legs winched apart, everything exposed to his view and he goes to stand on knees behind you, eagerly holding up his cock then he lines up your hole. He twists your hair around his fist and yanks your head back, at the same time thrusting into you from behind as his fingers slide to dig into your ass. 
Bucky grunts as he slams into you “Я без ума от тебя” (I'm mad about you) his balls slapping against the sensitive nub. You choke on your words, this angle allowing him in far deeper than before. You arch your back more and dig your nails into the floor, clawing at the dirty ground as he relentlessly pounds into you. Sweat drips down his neck as he watches himself entering and exiting you.
He grips your hips tightly, slamming into your snatch with ferocity. A wave of pleasure suddenly overwhelms you, and the tingling is growing stronger once more.
“Я предан тебе…ты моя девочка”(im devoted to you)...(You are my girl)
You can only mewl and gasp as you are rocked back and forth on your knees, losing your breath every time his cock hammers into your cunt. You clench around him when you hear your full name spoken in his gravelly tenor.
He molds his front to your back, spearing through your tightening pussy. He grabs your hair and snaps your head back roughly before it travels down around your throat and squeezes tight while his other palm splays across your stomach.
His lips rests on the back of your shoulder, hissing
“Очевидно, что , нас чувства друк к други” (You can’t deny what's between us)
He carries on rutting you like an animal. Your skin slapping together, your pussy squirting around his cock as it invades your snatch repeatedly, making suction squelching noises with every thrust in of his length. It keeps on hitting your cervix, your nubile breasts swing with the force of your body rocking—you know that you will be sore later.
"You fill my heart, I fill your cunt"
But his words strike every inside your body and his honesty brings the euphoria of complete surrender.
“Enough, stop, it is too much”
You plea and nearly asphyxiate on the words as your orgasm bursts upwards from your abused cunt. A sob wracks your throat and he continues thrusting, riding your orgasm until your entire body is convulsing and you are desperately trying to wiggle out of Bucky’s arms with the last of your strength, but it's not enough compared to the strength of his arms holding your hips with renewed vigor, determined to breed you.
You catch sight of him from your peripheral vision, his eyes closed, his lips are silent, but he chatters with his fingertips, with the way his hands grip your hips, fingers digging in, the way he fucks you. And you thought that he chose that position, because he was embarrassed, but he was not—he wanted to disguise from you how much he was enjoying himself.
You have the strength to kill him, but here you are—so obedient.
His little submissive.
His expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure—breathless, possessed, lost in the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight. Your pussy cradles around his dick as he pounds into you from behind.
“James” 
His name on your lips sooth a place deep inside him, and the urgent need to hear it in again pulses in his heart, making himself guilty of such a secret, he must perforce hold it—
—but he shamelessly let out a loud moan, he never felt so out of control. You are a disease worse than the pollen itself.
“Bucky” 
That makes him groan like an animal, noises coming out of him that you never heard before, he was never this vocal. The groans are desperate, endless, but the sound of his name is unspeakably erotic to him. He can’t get enough of this. He will die without it, without you.
“You look too pretty when you’re getting fucked like that” he blurts out, without even thinking.
There is already a fissure in his mind and madness just rushes through. Praising him puts him on edge, it’s something he never thought he wanted or needed. You wreak havoc on his life.
He squeezes his eyes shut—to utilize the entire spectrum of the other senses, moans of ecstasy crescendos and his breaths come in short instances, each with a slight pause in between as his body is rack with his orgasm, cum is flooding out of your cunt, dripping of you onto the hardwood floor and there is a charm about it that makes it unspeakably desirable for Bucky.
In this stillness, he finally finds serenity. 
All you want to do is crawl back beneath the mound blankets—he gently picks you up and you smile crookedly at him, something about your smile loosening a knot in his chest, because holding you in his arms is more natural to him than his own heartbeat.
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Morning came in through the blinds cutting everything into ribbons, but the light can make the most vulgar things tolerable—you are aware of the aching hips, and your whole body hurts like hell as if you have been run over by a train.
Bucky steps out of the bathroom, freshly showered with a white towel around his lean hips. He takes a half step toward the bed, and his jaw works for a moment before he asks
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired, did you tell Sam what happened?”
“No, of course not. He is thankful that you helped us” He says and rakes his fingers through his damp hair, making it stand on end “He invited us to Louisiana”
You barely resists smiling at him “Okay”
He raises a brow “Just like that, okay?”
“If you give me my bracelet back”
You both look at the bracelet around his right hand. Then he bites his lip as he grins.
“Not happening” he says, his tone flattening and he can't help the smirk that tips up the corners of his mouth.
“Guess I need to buy a new one then” You peel back the covers, indicating for him to get in and you watch him climb next to you “With your name on it”
His palm reaches up to wrap around the back of your head, his fingers tangling in the depths of your hair, pulling you closer, his lips hovering over yours. Everything about him pleases you.
Not just his looks, but his patience and his kindness. He is an obsession waiting to happen. Kissing him is terrifying, breathing the same air makes your knees weak, a liquid sensation swooping throughout your stomach—but you've been betrayed, stabbed by every single person in your life, the body heals, but it injures the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime. You are scared of love, scared of these new feelings, scared of trusting anyone, but you are trying—that’s why you gently press a kiss to his mouth.
(Her kisses are deliberate and polished. When she kisses me—she doesn't want me. She has me and knows it.)
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Bucky throws himself onto the couch next to Sam, slewing his eyes over to him.
"So you are sleeping and living together, but you are still not in a relationship?"
He takes a long sip of his drink when he hears the words, tips his head back against the couch, and decides he could…maybe live with that.
"Yeah"
Sam’s lips tighten to suppress a smile "That's a bit weird, Buck"
He chuckles, low under his breath "The part where I live with my ex-coworker or the part where we sleep together?"
James takes a deep breath, and Sam can see his blue eyes searching for his, like he is looking for an answer.
”Maybe it is what it's meant to be for now” A frown settles on Bucky’s face as he considers that “She has a lot to experience, too. If you pressure her with anything, you might lose her completely”
“I don't want to be in love, but she is making me, Sam” he sighs, a headache blooming right between his eyes. He rubs at the spot, stalling as he tries to figure out what he wants to say “But you are right, she needs to heal”
Several emotions swirl in Sam’s eyes. Worry, sadness, maybe even intrigue. But not judgment. Never. “Did she agree to go to Wakanda?”
He wets his dry lips and says the most basic truth:
“No, she is too untrustworthy, I can’t believe she even agreed to come here”
Sam sees it as hope—and he wants to put that light within his friend, too “But she did”
They can’t talk about it anymore, not when they hear you, Sarah and the kids coming back, and when your gazes meet, your soft smile and the look in your eyes, they are the best interpreter of your mind—you are truly happy, seeing you like that makes him feel like he can single-handedly vanquish an army.
He has outlasted all family, desires, dreams, his grief alone is left entire—sometimes visiting the lonely desolation of nightmares, they are gleamings of his empty heart—Bucky is a heap of ashes, but meeting you—kindled him back into fire.
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Oh my goshhh thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this project!
More of this ex!Asset AU? - MASTERLIST
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How about: showing Frank Castle your new lingerie? It can be fluff, it can be smut, do with it what you please! <3
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Spin For Me.
frank castle x female reader
warnings - allusions to sex. cursing.
valentines masterlist. masterlist. inbox.
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“Keep your eyes closed, Frank. I’m serious.”
He’s grinning, both hands pressed to his face as proof. He’s sat on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently for you to come out of the bathroom.
“Come on, baby. Don’t think I can wait any longer.”
“Good things come to those who wait!” you yell through the door. Frank laughs, shaking his head.
You finally swing open the door, leaning against the frame with a hand on your hip. You take him in for a moment - the smile on his face, his relaxed stance, the way his sweatpants hug his thighs just right. Inhaling deeply, you clear your throat.
“Open ‘em, Frankie.”
Frank blinks in the lamplight, adjusting to the brightness. When his eyes land on you, his breath hitches in his throat. He rakes his gaze all the way down your body and back up again, slow and sticky sweet. His irises darken, lust blooming across his skin.
“Shit, baby.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Goddamn.”
You push yourself off the doorframe, standing up straight.
“Spin f’me.”
“Hmm?”
“Spin for me, baby. Let me see you.”
You twirl around gently, like a ballerina in a music box. When you stop in your place, Frank gestures with his finger for you to spin the other way.
It’s almost voyeuristic, the way he’s devouring you with his stare. You feel like predator and prey, in the moonlight of your bedroom.
“Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”
The lace hugs your body exactly, every dip and curve accentuated. The colour compliments your skin perfectly, and your mind is running a mile a minute wondering what Frank is going to do to you first.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Frankie.”
“You’re tellin’ me,” he chuckles. “Yes it is.”
He stands up finally, making his way over to you. You’re waiting for him to twist his fingers into the material and rip, like he usually does. Instead, he runs his fingertips over the lace trim on your chest, gentle and featherlight. He dances his touch down your sides and onto the top of your underwear, playing with the band softly.
“Want you to keep it on,” he murmurs. “Wanna see this lace against your skin when I eat you out.”
You exhale shakily, nodding your head.
“Plus,” he whispers, leaning down to mouth at your ear. “This pretty thing gives me something to hold onto. Better grip when I fuck you into the mattress.”
You drop your head forward onto his chest, bare skin warm against your forehead. You can feel the way his lungs are heaving, just as buzzed on the anticipation as you are.
“You’ve given me a gift, honey. Now let me give you one.”
He drops to his knees in front of you. You’ve never seen anything prettier.
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g4yforethan · 3 months
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issues
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pairing: bucky barnes x male!reader
summary: after a night during a mission, reader and bucky become more than just enemies
warnings: cursing, top!bucky, bottom!reader
a/n: from a request i got awhile ago!! i love the classic enemies to lovers storyline :00
you and bucky were on a mission in sokovia to receive information and plans from HYDRA. prior to this, you begged steve to let you skip out on this since you and bucky weren't the greatest of friends. it wasn't like you hated each other it was just that you two never seemed to click and always had something to say to each other. steve denied this and insisted this mission would rid of that and bring you both together or at least he hoped. after receiving intel about HYDRA's weapons, the two fo you decided to call it for a night. you and bucky were staying in a motel several miles away from HYDRA's base. when you walked in, bucky went to go take a shower and you decided to lay in the bed that the both of you were going to be sharing.
you were flipping through a magazine since phones weren’t allowed on the mission when you saw bucky standing in the bathroom. he had just gotten out and was drenched in water that dripped down his hair and his hairy, muscular chest. he saw you staring at him and you turned the other way out of embarrassment. “don’t be looking for too long cause you ain’t gonna be getting anything.” you rolled your eyes but secretly thought of him naked and being on top of you. he laid down next to you with only underwear on and began humming a song. “bucky what are you doing?” you questioned him.
“listen i’m bored and i got nothing else to do. so mind your business.” this angered you. “why have you always been so rude to me? steve put us together so that we could hopefully become better partners but clearly this hasn’t been working. i mean truly what more do you want from me?” he stopped you and gave you a kiss on your lips. you stared at him in confusion. "why did you do that?" you said while also blushing. "because i've always liked you. i just didn't know how you would handle it." he replied back with his hand on your cheek. "that's so stupid." you said before giving him another kiss and slowly making your way on top of him.
you started leaving him kisses on his neck as he started to rub his hands through your back and waist. you started going down and kissing his belly before pulling his underwear down revealing his long, thick cock. "suck it baby." you listened to his command and swallowed every inch of his cock. his moans filled the room as he grabbed your head and forced you to fit his entire dick inside your mouth. you obeyed and continued sucking his dick for a few more minutes. "fuck stop y/n im gonna cum." you stopped and looked at him in the eyes. "you wanna fuck me till you cum?" you asked him. "fuck yes baby." bucky said before grabbing you and flipping you so that your ass was faced towards him.
he started licking your hole and teasing it by putting his finger inside. you moaned and begged for his cock to be inside of you. "easy there baby boy i'm getting there." he took his cock and slowly slid his tip inside your hole. "fuck you're so tight y/n." he said before shoving his whole dick inside. bucky went at a slow and soft pace but was secretly containing himself from what he could do. he started going at a faster speed and grabbed your waist as well. he pounded your hole for what seemed like eternity but you craved more of his cock. "fuck bucky right here." he slammed his dick and hit your prostate leaving a sensation all over your body. "fuck baby im gonna cum." bucky moaned as he filled your hole with his thick cum.
he gave you kisses on your back before laying down on his back and closing his eyes. "so that's what you've been wanting to do all this time?" you asked him. "honestly since the first time we've met but things happened you know?" you laughed and put your head on his chest. he kisses your head and played with your hair. "we're not gonna tell steve about this right?" you asked bucky. "oh fuck no. this just stays between you and i baby boy." he smiled before kissing you again and closing his eyes to go to sleep.
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pixiexdusts-world · 11 months
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Incorrect quote
Bucky: Dumbest scar stories, go!
Y/n: I burned my tongue once drinking tea.
Natasha: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it.
Steve: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade.
Tony: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and got a really bad burn.
Peter: …
Peter: I have emotional scars.
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angelltheninth · 10 months
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Upside-Down Kisses with Spiderverse Characters
Pairing: Peter B. Parker, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown x Reader
Tags: fluff, establised relationship, teasing, kissing, making out, playful biting
A/N: Writing the thing! The iconic thing!
Peter will kiss you when you're around the house doing mundane things. He'll walk up to you, tapping you on the shoulder first, a wink thrown your way before his lips press against yours, his stuble feeling scratcy and ticklish on your cheek.
Miles sneaks up behind you, fully invisible until you feel his soft lips on your cheek, one after the other before you blink and there he is, in front of you. You found him, now you get a proper kiss on the lips as your prize or how ever many you want.
Gwen hesitates to let you pull her mask down enough for a kiss but relents after the first kiss. Over the mask it won't feel the same, she won't feel your lips properly, or the shaky sigh you let out when her fingers brush your cheek as she pulls your face back for more.
Miguel teases as pushes his tongue into your mouth after he bites at your lips slowly, humming into your mouth as he slowly descends down from his web. Once he's low enough he flips over and picks you up to carry you to the couch.
Hobie kisses you many times over at a very awkward angle before he figures out the right one, where your lips fall together like puzzle pieces. He takes his sweet time with you, each kiss a bit longer then the last until you can't go without kisses.
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multi-fandom-imagine · 5 months
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«Only Hope || Symbiot!Peter Parker ||
A/n: Gonna be two parts, cause smut is gonna happen. { little hammer thing made by me }
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You made a mental note to thank Mike’s for giving you a chance to talk Peter down from wherever was happening to him. Wincing, you slowly stood up as you looked at your trashed bike. “Fuck.” Shaking your head you dusted your pants off, a shiver rubbing up your spine.
“I’m fine Mile’s….but I don’t see Pete…I’ll let you know if I find him.”
Heart hammering in your chest you took in your surroundings hoping to find Peter. Jumping back, you flinched hearing a crash, getting a glimpse of Peter before he vanished. “Peter! Please, I just want to talk.”
Walking through the tunnel, you had to swallow your own feet down, you needed to save him. You had to save him. Quickening your pace, you watched him lift a car out of the way only of va dog again. “Where are you going?”
You could feel the icy coldness of the water as you continued further. “Peter, oh you’re going to flood the tunnel.” Cautiously looking around, you frowned digging your nails into your palm. Where did he go? Did he know what he was doing, could you even pull him back?
Though your eyes went wide as he nearly jumped out at you. Falling back, you winced feeling your skin getting scraped. You turned your head as a few pipes fell on top of a drill. The vibrating sound echoing through the tunnel, your eyes going wide once you realized that it was effecting the symbiot attached to Peter.
Wondering if you were doing the right thing, your grabbed a wrench slamming it down on the hammer stopping the drill, stop the sound as Peter fell from where he was holding on.
Crawling towards the man, you hesitantly reached out to place a hand on his cheek. “I know you are still in there Peter.” Inching forward, you then placed your hand against his masked mask. “You have to be.”
The Symbiot, reacting to your touch, the black tendrils curling around your wrist, caressing your skin before it pulled back relieving Peter’s face. “Oh Peter.” You let your hand caress his cheeks, he looked so peaceful sleeping but you knew you had to wake him, this whole tunnel could collapse on you both if you did not wake him.
“Come on Pete, wake up.” Gritting your teeth your placed your hand on his shoulders you started to shake him. “Wake up!” Turning your head you noticed the stun gun Peter had given you to protect yourself.
“God, I can’t believe I forgot I had this.” Picking it up, you then turned your attention to the unconscious man. “I’m sorry, this is going to sting a little.” Closing your eyes you placed the stun gun against the shot hitting him. You hated seeing him convulse, you hated thinking that you were the one that caused him any pain.
Your name slipped past his lips, the mask peeling away as he looked up at you. God he was happy to see you were okay. His hand reached up for a moment to press it against your cheek. “You’re okay, I didn’t.”
Peter gritted his teeth, he tried to suppress the symbiot from taking over. It’s not like this thing wanted to hurt you, to cause you harm like the others.
No.
This thing wanted to mate with you, he could feel it in the pit of his stomach and the worse part of it all he wanted to be a part of it.
Your voice was like a fog but it was so soothing and your touch, they liked it when you touched them.
“Pete…come we have to-.”
You sounded so sweet, they wondered if you would taste just as good.
A shuddered ran down Peter’s spine, enough talking, they will have you.
“run.”
Your eyes went wide, the Symbiot covering Peter’s body. His voice deeper, it had an edge to it yet something was familiar. Scrambling away from the man, you then took off running.
Watching you, Peter took a deep breath taking in your scent, the Symbiote’s desire fueling his own as he listened to your steps fading away.
They will have you.
Let the chase begin.
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riedswifts · 2 years
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AFTER HOURS
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NOMAD!STEVE X READER
Warnings : smut, barley plot, oral (f receiving), praise, slight size kink, desk sex, slight breeding, fingering, steve has a bit of a mouth, fluff (at the end ), some dumbification.
Summary : you and steve seem to have a mix of tensions and the top one being hate, but a night alone in the tower shows what the real problem is.
Word count: 2.8k
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Everyone had left out with their significant others, or friends or family. Nat had begged you to come but you kindly declined. Being on a long-standing mission, and nearly being on the brink of death literally- being an assassin and hanging off a building by a falling building is tiring. You also weren’t expecting some things and were worn out to the max.
You were under the impression everyone had left. Except Jarvis of course but that was a computer system. So you had no reason to wear full clothes and being a trained assassin leaves you in shape so you thought you’d be fine. Leaving your personal huge room in nothing but a black widow t-shirt and a pair of panties, no bra either, you just explored the tower in its glory during the night hours.
It was stunning to say the least and not to brag but you had one of the best views. Tony made sure your room had a floor to ceiling window with a space in it to go on the balcony that overlooked the city’s lights. It was payment in a way, you had nearly died saving his life quite a few times and even if he didn’t admit it you were his favorite on the team.
You had decided that you would go out on the very ledge thor and loki fought on. You had quickly snagged a bottle of any alcohol you could snag without stopping and made your way outside. You sat near the ledge but not fully on it. Your ankles hanging off the edge as you sat with your legs stretched out.
You held up the bottle and glanced at it ‘Daviun vodka’ you didn’t care for brands but this one seemed ok and the flavor was watermelon. So you popped off the top and set it beside you as you rested back on your elbows taking a swig and staring at the bottle after before shrugging with a satisfied hum.
You just relaxed not registering the sound of someone getting closer. It was a rare moment when you let your guard down but after all you had asked JARVIS prior to this if any one was here and the damn shit said no. Someone stood behind you and you slightly stiffened.
Without moving you acted clueless before in seconds you stood up and stunned the person as you broke the handle off the vodka and managed to flip them over onto their back holding the jagged edge to their throat. Bored blue eyes stared back at you with the upmost annoyed face.
You scoffed standing up completely forgetting your attire. You didn’t bother sticking your hand out to help him up, you just grabbed the bottle and started walking inside. You heard him scoff in disbelief but you didn’t care, he was a grade A dick after all- only to you- that was.
“Why are you here? Have no friends to go out with?” He asked trailing you inside. You rolled your eyes making a dramatic annoyance sound. “Do you?“ You shot back, it was a fifth grade response but you didn’t care in the slightest.
“Fifth grade response, Cute.” He said sarcastically and you with to cut his beard off and his throat but tony and natasha agreed no killing the super solider. stupid rules.
“What do you want steve?” You asked putting the bottle back, you started walking and made an abrupt turn into the small room. The one where everyone had sat and watched as they replayed a video of wanda accidentally destroying a building and killing people. It was empty, lights off, chairs pushed in.
You always came to watch TV in here because the projected screen was cooler to you. After all you didn’t have electronics until you escaped the red room with natasha. Steve still followed you in there but you ignored him as you picked up the projector remote.
Sitting on the table you slid back leaving from your knees down hanging off the table as he grumbled that you were ignoring him. “Do you have anything better to do than I don’t know..annoy me?” You asked rolling your eyes.
His eyes seemed to finally take in your appearance and you had neglected the fact that your nipples would poke through the thin t-shirt due to the coldness. His eyes darkened for a moment before he sharply directed his state to the screen. “Just genuinely curious as to what a looser like you decided to do when they’re alone.”
Your head snapped in his direction. “Oh fuck off steve.” You scoffed. Deciding to press play on the movie but before you could the remote was snatched out of your hand and you glared at him as he tossed it aside.
He stood right in front of you and you scooted backwards. Your eyes narrow in on him as he licked his lips running a hand over his beard. “What’s your fucking problem?” You asked extremely annoyed your night was ruined by the captain himself.
Though there was the faint throb between your legs that made you wanna stab your eyes out, how dare your own body betray you like that.
After the question left your mouth his eyes snapped back up to yours. His hair was slightly slicked back but looked like he had laid down in it because a few pieces had fell out. He paused staring at you making you slightly shiver. He saw the way your thighs slightly shifted to squeeze, the way your nipples poked through the thing t-shirt. He could faintly see the lace of your panties, he stared at you for a long moment.
Suddenly he grabbed your Ankle pulling you forward making you slid until you were right in front of him a mere inch from his nose as his hands rested on either side of you. “You see, my problem is, i can’t decide if i hate your guts or maybe it’s the frustration of not being able to rearrange them.”
Your eyebrows raised as your breathing sped up a bit. His eyes swapped between your eyes and lips, then they locked on your eyes maintaining eye contact as you felt the coldness of his avengers ring against your knee.
“Well then, maybe that’s a theory we need to test out.” You said as his hand slid up more leaving a trail of goosebumps before gripping your leg tightly. He smirked at how reactive you were to his touch.
He hummed before leaving you curious as he removed his hands. Suddenly they where on the curves on your ass pushing you flush against him, as if it was natural your legs spread allowing the bulge in his pants to press right against your now dampened panties.
Your back arched as you looked up at him and his lips crashed into yours, it wasn’t passionate, and soft- no. It was bruising, full of dominance and emotion. Obviously the fight for domination still stood and as an assassin you weren’t gonna give up.
However when his hands gripped your hips and rolled your hips against his you let out an involuntary humiliating moan. That allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth and when he squeezed your ass he let you know, he had won.
You pulled away from him to breathe as you guys started at each other panting. His forehead came to rest against yours before laying you on the empty mahogany desk. He kissed you again bruising like as your hands started to wonder you tugged at his shirt and without disconnecting his lips from yours he took it off.
His hands slid up under your shirt cupping your breast and ran his thumbs over the hardened peaks. When your back arched it caused you to accidentally grind against him and this time you both moaned. He bit your lip before letting it go and kissing down your neck.
He sucked and bit making sure to suck each piece of smooth skin he could find. One of his hands pulled out from your shirt and cupped the back of your neck pulling you up before he pulled the shirt swiftly over your head.
He stared at you for a moment. “God, you’re stunning.” He whispered and before you could comprehend what was going on his mouth had latched on to your nipple sucking and slightly biting it making you moan.
He laid you back down and your mind fogged as you unbuckled his belt. However before you could do more he had grabbed both of your hands stopping his attacks on your boobs.
He pulled both your arms above your head and smirked down at your face, you looked stunning. Hair spread out and marks forming on your neck stopping above your breast. Your lips were swollen and bruised. He adored this sight.
God, he wish he had figured this out sooner, that instead of bitching he just actually fucked you. He didn’t think he’d find anything more addicting after seeing you in this state.
He kissed down your body stopping at the hem of your panties and deciding he was to impatient he tore them off making you whine. “i’ll buy you new ones.” He muttered as he got on his knees hooking his arms around your thighs. His hand pushing your stomach down.
You shivered as you felt the cold air of the tower directly on your bare pussy. Without a warning he shoved his face between your legs licking from your hole to your clit, the sensation made you gasp as your back arched.
“fuck!”
Steve groaned hearing the words fall out of your mouth. His tongue switched from sucking your clit to dipping his tongue in and out of you making you squirm. He looked up at you mouth and chin coated in slick. “Do not move your hands.”
Your brows furrowed as you continued to pant. “Wh-mmhh.” Your words turned into a soft moan when you felt one of his thick fingers slide in and bottom out. Your eyes pinched shut and your back arched off the table.
His other finger slid in as well and you tried to close your legs but he pulled them further apart. He watched your expression as he pulled them out almost fully before slamming them back in and curling them. He groaned and nearly came in his pants at the sight of you.
“Such a good girl for me.” He muttered before attaching his lips to your clit again and sucked on it whilst moving his fingers in and out. He Felt you tighten around him and couldn’t wait to see how you feel on his cock.
You were panting and babbling words of his name and please. What really sent you over the edge is when he sucked your clit with his teeth grazing it as he pumped his fingers harder curling them as your fingers locked him in.
Your orgasm crashed over you making your mind fog and your head limp to the side as pathetic whimpers left your plump and less swollen lips. He didn’t seem to care much that you had came all over his face because he kept sucking and licking up every last bit of cum.
You panted as you reached for his pants trying to tug them down as you recovered from your orgasm. When steve had finally freed his cock you assumed your face said it all because his chuckle was dark, taunting like.
He parted your legs again and you tried to close them but he roughly grabbed them pulling you closer to him but you let out a whimper when his huge side rubbed against your sensitive clit.
He made a mock frown face at you. “C’mon now sweetheart, be a good girl and take it for me, hmm?” He said as he massaged your breast with one hand and stroked himself. You nodded now desperate as the ache returned between your legs.
He let the tip slip in and he saw your face completely washed with pleasure. Brows furrowed, parted mouth, marks fully developed, and sweat beading your forehead. Without warning he pushed the rest of his way in and you gasp as he groaned.
You were used to sex of course you’ve had sex before but nobody was this big before. The intrusion felt good but the small sting was there lingering but it only added to the pleasure. “If you don’t stop squeezing’ me i’m gonna fucking cum.”
You relaxed around him and he groaned in relief. You felt more heavenly then he ever could’ve thought. He leaned down and captured your lips with his before thrusting with force and when he lifted one of your legs higher and he lifted your hips your eyes rolled back when he hit the spot that had you screaming his name.
“Look at you.” He said panting as he continued to thrust. “Takin it like such a good fucking girl.” With each word his thrust got harder and it made the breath get caught in your throat.
You grabbed his face kissing him harshly and he moaned into your mouth fueling the tightening in your lower stomach already. Suddenly he dropped you legs pushing them on the desk making them bend as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
His thrust slowed to deep strokes. “You feel me, hmm?” He said and you moaned when he hit the spot inside you that had you babbling like a dumb person. Suddenly you felt the most unexplainable feeling.
It was like the tightness got tighter but mixed with a load of pleasure. You whimpered at the feeling as steve pushed his hand down harder on your lower tummy. “you feel that.” he panted as he thrusted again. “That’s how deep i am inside of you…”
“ohmygodohmygod.” was all you could babble as he pressed harder making the coil tighten up. “Steve- i’m gonna-“ He shut you up by kissing you as the hand that was pressing the bulge moved to your clit. “Do it, be a good girl and cum all over my cock.” He whispered as his thrust did not slow down.
He suddenly put his other hand behind your neck making you look down at his cock slipping in and out of you. “fuck- you see that?” He said as he kept moving in and out. Your hand was holding his wrist as his hand was behind your neck.
“C’mon- fuck!.” Steve said when you clenched harder around him. “give it to me.” he muttered as you laid back down and his fingers pinched and rolled your clit and he rubbed in a fast motion causing the coil to snap, your orgasm rushing over you like a tidal wave.
You blanked out for a moment, as black spots filled your vision and you’re pretty sure you said steve more times than any avenger had over the past years. You were moaning, sweaty, dazed and fucked out. Just how he wanted.
You got pulled back down when he kept running you and you whined tryna pull away. “to much.” you muttered and he mocked a frown. “Awe is my baby to fucked out? Look at you all dumb and can barley speak a full sentence.” He said and you moaned as he hit your over worked spot.
“You gonna be a good girl and let me cum inside of you hmm? Gonna fill you all up.” He muttered and you nodded. “Please- please cum inside of me.” your voice was hoarse and he held onto you tightly as his head went to your neck and you felt his thrusts getting sloppy before you felt ropes of cum deep inside you.
His head laid on your chest arms your arms circled his shoulder both of you laying there while his hands wrapped around you. He was slowly moving his hips pushing the thick cum into you deeper.
“Mr. Rogers? are you alright your heart rate seems exceptionally high? You as well Miss.” Steve who was Resting between your bare breasts chuckled making you smile.
“Oh i see Mr. Stark and the rest of them have returned. They’re parking.” Jarvis said and steve looked at you lifting you up as he looked at the cum mess on the table.
“Jarvis how much time do we have?” you asked as steve held you legs wrapped around his waist and due to the serum it was easy for him to hold your short frame up with one hand.
“Well five minutes starting now.” You and steve chuckled as you hopped down and cleaned the cum mess and he gathered your guys clothes.
“Good?” You asked fixing the chairs and everything. Steve nodded and Held his arm out and you jumped up wrapping your legs around his waist as he snuck out the room and ran up the stairs to his floor and shut the door.
“Guys?! Did you guys murder each other?”
That was all you heard from downstairs, before you guys bursted into giggles.
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nouearth · 8 months
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baby-sitting for miguel o'hara.
miguel o'hara x m!reader headcanons.
part ii.
warnings: smut, perverted!miguel, stalker!miguel, top!miguel, bottom!male reader, small!male reader, weak!male reader, sir!kink, thoughts of sex, masturbation, fingering, spying, kinda dubcon (?), heavily focused on sweat and smelly musk (hehe).
notes: say hi to my first miguel story! i couldn't stop thinking about him ever since I rewatched the movie, tbh.
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—at first, miguel was rather reluctant to hire you for babysitting.
—your experience was almost non-existent, if it hadn’t been for that one time you babysat your nephew… eight years ago. of course, you left that part of information out.
—but miguel deemed you trustworthy, concluded that so even before he ran a background check on you.
—and so far, he seemed correct.
—on the first day, he was just as nervous as you were, leaving his precious and sacred gift to the world with a complete stranger—it was frightening and if he had the choice, he wouldn’t have done this.
—he would tell you about the cameras installed throughout the house—mostly for the safety of gabriella’s, but your well-being was also a considerate factor in this choice. 
—you were small, and if miguel said that you looked weak, you’d probably say a questionable thank you considering how quietly submissive you were towards him.
—later that first night, miguel knew he made the right choice in picking you (out of a measly three candidates, but still). 
—you managed to get gabriella to sleep by her bedtime, one routine that miguel still hadn’t figured out yet.
—but to be fair, babies woke up and slept according to their own terms, so did they really have a bedtime other than day, afternoon, and night?
—like the first night of many, you bid him goodbye after being paid.
—goodnight, sir! i’m pretty much free all summer until my semester starts, so if you need me on stand by or something… go crazy!
—all right, I’ll keep that in mind. 
—and… thank you.
—something ignited in him when you guys spoke. it must’ve been… what, your fourth interaction together? 
—the first few have been more formal—interviewing you, introducing you to gabriella, and checking up on you with a phone call. it was limited, a thick barrier that miguel would put up between you and him because it was work—just work.
—even though he sent you off fairly quick, the interaction was long enough for him study you like he never did before. 
—he never realized how handsome you were, optimism practically seeping from your smile to your voice. it was a stark contrast to his moodiness, strained by the constant amount of stress put on by work, and furthermore by an ongoing divorce case.
—but he liked you, more than he’d like to admit.
—miguel liked the way you would tuck your shirt into your pants. a younger version of him would’ve labelled you a nerd, church boy even.
—but he found it attractive when the fabric laid on your chest with the right amount of tightness—a slightest exposure that would have him staring for an embarrassing amount of time.
—he also found it attractive when the peak of summer closed in on you.
—one day, you would show up at his doorstep in shorts.
—you preferred walking. 
—no wonder you were so radiant to him, you practically soaked in the sun every day before you two would meet.
—sorry if i look like a mess, sir- i look gross, don’t i?
—that feeling in him returned again, churned like butter as he would watch the sweat calmly roll down your aching legs.
—i’d be lying if i told you no, wouldn’t i?
—you were a mess, miguel would go on to agree to himself. not because of the way your hair sparkled in the sun as it latched onto sweat—but because of the way you were completely oblivious to how you made him feel.
—it only grew stronger with subsequent meetings.
—you can use my shower, you know. it’s gotta be uncomfortable to be sweaty in those clothes for—what—eight hours?
—no, no! I’m fine, sir. i don’t think it would be right of me to-
—well, just throwing it out there in case you needed to. 
—next time, then!
—and the next time, you would carry an extra bag of clothes because you and miguel both knew the outcome.
—it was a proud moment when miguel could smell his body wash on you when you left that night.
—sure, he probably bought the most generic brand he could find. but he has never smelt that scent on you before, so it inflated his ego to know that you’d be walking home in his usual scent.
—sleeping in his scent.
—like every other night, a shower would mark the end of miguel’s day. it was his favorite pastime—all thoughts were left behind as soon as he stepped under the shower head, letting the warm spray of water wash him of stress.
—when he stepped out, something caught his eye in the corner of the tiled floor—something blue.
—your briefs. 
—you forgot to take your briefs with you because you were rushing when you heard gabriella suddenly cry.
—it would’ve been off-putting by anyone else, but this was you.
—this was your briefs, miguel would then hold up like a trophy. a piece of fabric that would contain and cover you—touch your most vulnerable parts.
—with the current feelings miguel had for you, it would’ve been a missed opportunity if he simply threw it in the washer.
—so, he doesn’t.
—11 am. where miguel would usually find himself sleeping by this hour—he was inhaling the scent of your musk instead, scrunching your sweat-stained briefs to his face as he jerked off in bed.
—in all honestly, he was ashamed to admit that he loved the smell of your sweat.
—but miguel would nonetheless take deep whiffs, desperate to smell you in your most vulnerable state.
—and he comes at the very last second when he can.
—it wasn’t enough for him though, so miguel doesn’t waste a single second to jerk himself off again—his cum lubing his sensitive cock up with a generous amount of stickiness and slick.
—good morning, sir!
—(m/n), i thought i said that you can call me miguel?
—oh… right! sorry, that completely slipped my mind. i must’ve forgotten.
—never stop forgetting, miguel muttered to himself, fucking his heavy cock into  the depth of your briefs.
—he loved the way you called him sir. it made him feel authoriative and only fueled his want and need to protect you—you and your weak body. 
—you’d be powerless if something were to happen to you, and the chances of that happening were well in your wits since you continued to insist on walking home.
—unbeknownst to you, every night miguel would follow you in the shadows—an undisclosed bodyguard of some sort—until you reached home.
—even then, he wasn’t fully relaxed because most crimes always took place domestically.
—he would watch you from below, through your window, for quite some time, making sure your parents’ house was a danger-free zone. 
—and it wasn’t until you took your pants off and began stroking yourself through those same blue briefs, that he was finally at peace. 
—fuck... miguel stopped fucking into your briefs to take another whiff of the fabric until his nostrils stung—a mixture of you and him together now. 
—the fabric clung around miguel’s cock as his thick precum was the only glue that pieced him and the presence of you together. 
—he would think back to how you would suck on two of your fingers as you stroked yourself to nothing but lewd thoughts—your eyes tightly closed to visualize your perverted mind into reality. 
—what are you thinking about? who are you thinking about? is it me? are you thinking about my cock?
—the air in his bedroom has gotten heavier, thick with sex as he sweated under the cloud of you fingering yourself with the clumsiest yet neediest precision.
—he spat on his cock to slick it up again—because he could go on for hours—replaying back to the night where he watched you completely juxtapose with the innocent image he had of you prior.
—your hips were lifted up, legs awkwardly bent back as you dug into yourself, working your hole open deeper with one, then two, then three fingers because—miguel was right. like a spell, you were thinking of him and his cock.
—he had to be big, you were so sure of it. the fact that you strained your neck from looking up at him was a telling sign that he was, as ignorant as that was.
—and you were practically drooling at the thought of his cock stuffing you with the most fulfilling amount of pain and pleasure.
—you’d want him to be ruthless with you and show no mercy as he couldn’t care less about the way you whimpered and cried out for him to stop.
—fucking you from behind as his strong arms held you in a headlock, applying pressure that would frighten a choke out of you.
—because you were nothing but his fuck toy.
—it was all overwhelming for miguel on that night, almost too good to be true and he had to squeeze his cock through his sweats to make sure this was reality.
—you would confirm that it was, with the image of you coming all over your chest and stomach, all to the pathetic plunging of your fingers.
—and miguel does too, coming powerfully, to the point of shudders running down his broad back, into a part of your briefs where it would hold your own dick because he wants his smell to be imprinted on you, inked deep into your flesh.
—until you smelled like his.
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nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!
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m0nsterqzzz · 3 months
Text
✦ The Little Things ✦
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pairing: kate bishop x gn!reader
summary: Kate loses the bracelet her loving partner made for her when they first started dating and panics maybe a bit more then she should
warnings: panic attacks, a little bit of cussing, mentions of killing ig?
a/n: so this is unimportant but i wanted to say that i really wanted to do this story as what happened when i got the inspo (my ex was panicking over losing the bracelet i made her when we were dating) but decided to go with the more fluffy version lol. enjoy kate being so adorable. also, i'm pretty sure i used they/them when i had to use pronouns so if theres anything other then that, let me know. and, I'm literally so terrible at writing endings so if you guys have any tips on how to end a fluff or angst oneshot, it would be greatly appreciated
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
When you wake up, you're wrapped in your girlfriend's arms. Kate just got home from spending the weekend with her mother, and apparently she got to the Compound while you were asleep last night. Your back is up against her front, and her hand is gently placed on an area of exposed skin on your hip.
You turn around on the bed, placing your head against Kate's chest. She stirs a bit, but seems to still be asleep as she moves a hand to cradle the back of your head.
Suddenly, the sound of harsh knocking on your bedroom door makes you both sit up, now very alert as you both look around. “Kate!” You hear Clint's voice from the other side of the door, and Kate smiles. You roll your eyes, laying back down and trying to pull her with you. She gets up off the bed, and you groan and hold her pillow close to you. She opens the door for Clint, and his eyes fall to you before going back to Kate. “We got a mission Bishop. Suit up.” That makes you sit up, and you glare at the bowman. “She just got back. Why do you hate me Barton?” He pretends to think about it for a moment before he shrugs and begins walking away. “I’ll go make you a list!” He calls over his shoulder, and you groan and let your face drop into the pillows again.
Clint Barton is your best friend. You met him through your father Tony, and he was instantly like an uncle to you the same way Natasha was like a mother to you. He was all you had when both your father and Natasha died, but that all changed when he introduced you to Kate.
You watch as she goes to the closet for her freshly clean suit, and then sheds her pajamas in order to get ready for the mission. She hums a tune as she does, and then goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair. You get out of bed and follow, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind as she brushes her teeth, still humming. The brunette leans into your arms, and you notice the humming to be of “Let's Get Married” by the Bleachers. You shouldn’t be surprised. She sings it to you at any chance.
She puts on her shoes- the tennis shoes Clint bought her after a long talk about how she cannot wear her purple converse while fighting bad guys- and then presses a small kiss to your nose. “You missed.” You playfully complain, and she chuckles before kissing your lips. 
She's on her way to the door when she turns back around, and you're expecting a hug. Instead, she runs straight past you and to her nightstand. She grabs something off of it, and you notice it as the bracelet you made her a year ago. You had been nervous to give it to her, especially since it is something an eight year old could have made, but she just smiled brightly and put it around her right wrist. She never takes it off now, unless she's in the shower or sleeping. She says it is her good luck charm, and you feel happy that a bracelet with clay beads of different shades of purple that says, “My Katie” gives her good luck when she's out risking her life.
She gives you a small hug, and then kisses you on the lips before speeding out the door.
You sigh, an everlasting smile and blush on your face as you let your body fall backwards onto the bed. Todays your day off from missions, and it was supposed to be a you and Kate day so now that the Kate part of it is not here, you try to figure out what to do. You don’t know where the mission is, how long it’ll take, what the risks are, what time she’ll be back, hell you don’t even know what it’s for and you silently cuss out Clint in your head for not giving you details to settle your head.
As if on cue, you get a message.
bird brain 🏹:
Simple mission, take down a few guys and grab the intel from the lowest level of the building. 
It’s not too dangerous as long as she doesn’t decide to pull a Kate and not listen to me. 
We’ll be home in a few hours and you can take your lover girl back. 
She’s already driving me crazy and we’re on the jet ride there. 
Chill out and rest your mind kid.
I’ll keep her safe.
You smile. Even though Kate can sometimes forget to give you the details, Clint never fails to reassure you he’ll keep your girl safe.
With your mind now at slight peace, you get up and make your way down the hall to Wanda’s room. Today is her day off, also known as the perfect day to go bother her. After that, you go bother Fury, only leaving his office when he threatens to send you on a mission. By then it’s lunch, and you look to the clock, expecting to see that a few hours have passed. 
So, Kate left at 9am. 
And it is currently………11am.
You sigh, pulling out a pan and deciding to make the team breakfast. And by team, you mean you and Wanda.
Meanwhile, with Kate and Clint.
She fucking pulled a Kate.
Clint simply told her to keep guard by the doors while he grabbed the info and alert him if anyone showed. She did that for about 4 minutes. 
She then saw a bird, a blue bird, and it made her think of you so she did the only understandable thing. Left her post and followed the bird all the way outside of the building. It’s only when she hears her partner's voice coming over the ear piece in her ear yell, “Where the hell are you Kate?!” does she run back to the building, seeing the man being beaten by a few guards. She grimaces, pulling out an arrow and lining it up with her bow. She shots one in the arm, and suddenly all the attention is on her as she widens her eyes. “Sorry dude!” She says loudly, backing up with a nervous chuckle. “Maybe we can talk this out right? How about we make a deal? You let my partner go, and we’ll walk away from this peacefully. Alright?” 
Clint groans from the ground. “No! We will not!” He yells, sitting up and grabbing his own bow. 
The guards are large and strong looking, but even strength like theirs can’t go against an arrow flying into their skull. He does that to the rest of them, and then takes a deep breath and glares at Kate. She rubs the back of her neck with a nervous smile. “So, now that that’s over……wanna grab some lunch or something?”
He scoffs, groaning in pain as he stands up. She knows she’s going to be barated on the way home. They begin the walk back to the quinjet, and Kate is half listening to his rant as she reaches her hand to play with the bracelet on her arm.
The moment Kate realizes her bracelet is no longer on her right wrist, she drops the bow and arrow on the ground. 
Clint turns to look at her and hisses, “What the hell are you doing Bishop? Pick up your bow and let's go!” She barely hears him though, as she's too busy checking her pockets and then the pebbled floor underneath her. He seems to notice her panic, and his voice and face softens as he tries to ask her more calmly, “What's wrong Kate?” She mumbles something, shaking her head and then looking at the building they just left. “Did you leave something in there?” She isn’t listening anymore, but he gets his answer when she takes off towards the building. He sighs and follows.
She scans the floors of the halls, tears filling her eyes when she doesn’t see the purple beads anywhere. Her breathing is beginning to get faster, and Clint tries his best to get her to stop for a second and take a deep breath. She does stop, but it’s only because she realizes a sob and continues hyperventilating. 
“Kate. Kate, look at me.” She does, and he panics even more when he sees the tears. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what needs fixing.” He attempts a chuckle. She tries her best to breathe, but between the sobbing and erratic breathing, she barely gets out a weak, “M-my bracelet.” 
His eyes widen. He knows how much the jewelry means to her, having almost been shot by an arrow when he teasingly took it one day. He looks on both wrists and then the floor around them, still trying to calm her down. It might seem childish, but that bracelet is everything to Kate. When she has to do stuff like missions, or visiting her mom and she can’t take you (her person), the bracelet is the next best thing. You’re her anchor, but there are times in life where you can’t be there. So the bracelet is there. For her to fidget with, or hold close to her heart as if it’s her holding you close to her. 
She leans up against the wall, letting her body slide down it as she hyperventilates. “I-I need it.” He nods, looking into her brown eyes and stating firmly, “I know katie. I know. And I know the bracelet is important but I need you to listen to me right now.” She looks up to his face, hand going to her chest to scratch at it as if it’s going to help her breath. He holds her hands in his own. “We’re gonna get on the quinjet, go home to see your partner, and you’re going to feel so much better. The bracelet is to remind you of them right?” She nods repeatedly. “Then we’ll take you to them. Just think about them Katie.” 
He lifts her off of the floor, one of her arms over his shoulder as her legs wobble and she lets him help her walk to the jet. “It’s alright Kate. I’m here. It’s all gonna be alright.”
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
Back home, you're eating ice cream in bed when your phone rings. It’s Clint, and you instantly perk up in excitement. “Hey birdman, are you guys on your way home?” 
He sighs, looking at Kate who's now curled up in the corner of the quinjet, knees to her chest and mumbling this to herself. “It’s Kate.” In retrospect, he probably should've been more detailed and not used the sentence that people only use when someone they care about is seriously hurt.
“какого черта? Ты сказал, что защитишь ее! ты глупый, глупый человек! если она не выживет, я доберусь до тебя раньше, чем это сделает карма!” His eyes widen at your yelling and he holds the phone a bit away to protect his eardrum. “Now calm down kid, she just had a panic attack. She seems to be doing alright now but I just wanted to let you know so you can keep an eye on her when we get home in…..4 minutes.” You sigh, but there's still panic in you when you wonder what could have brought on a panic attack. “What brought it on?”
Translation: what the fuck? You said you would protect her! you stupid, stupid man! if she doesn't make it, I'll get to you before karma ever will!
It sounds like he’s speaking to someone, probably Kate, before he says, “She lost her bracelet.” 
You take a minute to think about it before you begin to giggle. You're not laughing at her having a panic attack, it’s more of a “that’s adorable and sad at the same time” kind of giggle. “Okay. tell her I love her and I’ll see her soon.” You hang up and think for a minute before grabbing the clay beads from under your bed.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
It doesn’t take that long to make, and by the time the quinjet is landing on the field outside of the compound, you have a bracelet that looks exactly like Kate’s old one.
You make your way outside, grinning at the sight of your girlfriend. She’s walking by herself now, her breathing has gone back to normal, and the only tears on her face are dry. You speed up, and you’re practically sprinting by the time you make it into her arms. She chuckles and holds you close, hiding her head in the crook of your neck. “I’m so sorry my love.”
You giggle. “What’s there to be sorry for Katie?” She sighs, pulling away from you to lift up her sleeve and show her bare wrist. “I lost my bracelet.” She looks ready to cry again, so you pull her into another hug and cradle her head. “I know honey. But apologies are for when you’ve done something wrong.” You assure, but she’s not having it. 
“But I lost the gift you gave me! One of my favorite gifts of all time! My lucky charm!” You sigh, flipping over the hand of hers that you’ve been holding so her palm is facing the sky and putting the new bracelet in it. “I made you a new one Katie. And this one can hold just as much love and luck if you want it to.” She grins, holding the bracelet close to her heart like she used to do with the other one as she asks, “You promise?” “Promise what?” “That it’s made with just as much love and luck as the first one?” You giggle and caress her face. “I promise Katie.”
Kate Bishop is a simple girl. Things like purple bracelets, pizza, dogs, and movie nights, will make the brunette happy for at least a week. So when you began dating, you made it your mission to involve at least one of those things in your guy’s daily lives so she could be the happiest she could be. Whether it’s replacing her favorite piece of jewelry, eating pizza three nights in a row, or having a movie night on your day off, watching whatever films she wants and stuffing yourselves full of candy. You’d do it all a million times over if it meant your girl would be happy. Because you know she’d do the same for you. 
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