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#steve rogers x reader insert
buckets-and-trees · 11 months
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Congrats again on 300 my love ❤️❤️ so you may already know which AU I’m going to be requesting, because it’s my favourite story of yours (so far) and that is Fire Burning from a Cedar Tree!! This story made my heart ache and if you have the inspiration for it I’d love love love to see more!! I don’t want to restrict your imagination by being too specific, but literally anything with those two and I would die of happiness 💙💙
Em, I squealed when you dropped this into my box for the request fest! Partly because I adore you. Partly because you know I also really adore Fire Burning from a Cedar Tree. And partly I squealed out of terror because...I was worried I wouldn't be able to do any kind of follow up to this fic justice. But I took a deep breath and let that go and decided to just let whatever happen happen. I was also a little worried because when I wrote Cedar Tree, it felt very finished, so I didn't have any leftover thoughts to pick up and play around with, so I literally took that first week to just think about them and their story. And then... a lot of scenes started to emerge - stuff before and after Cedar Tree, stuff that was just them, stuff with the people around them.
This is where I landed for now. It's not the same as Cedar Tree - first thing being that it's told from Steve's perspective instead of the reader's - but I'm thinking it will make sense in their overall narrative.
This it the end of their honeymoon, a few weeks before Cedar Tree.
Fandom: MCU Title: The Thrill of Knowing How Alone We Are Characters/Pairings: King!Steve Rogers x female!Queen!Reader, brief Sam and Bucky Word Count: 1.2k Summary: The final night and morning of King Steven's royal honeymoon.
Content Warnings: brief sexual relations (p in v)
Additional Notes: The third offering to celebrate 300 followers with the request fest! While this depicts events before Fire Burning from a Cedar Tree, it does not stand alone and should be read AFTER reading the original piece. Song title inspiration from Better Love by Hozier, which is one of the songs on my original Cedar Tree writing playlist. A/N 2: This still is pretty arbitrary, but although I knew the original was a historical royal AU setting, I basically closed my eyes and pointed when I ended up saying it was medieval. I debated between medieval or Georgian/regency vibe, but NOW it's decidedly Georgian, which will be more relevant if/as I share more of their story in the future.
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It’s as he’s on his back, staring at the ceiling, that Steve realizes he’s already deciphered the difference between how it sounds when you’re asleep, when you’re awake, and when you’re somewhere in between. He didn’t expect that.
He expected a lot of things after taking you as his queen, but there were so many small things that make sense, but he simply hadn’t thought of, like this – knowing so quickly the sounds of your breathing.
Ten days and in some ways he knew so much more about you than he knew about anyone else but himself – more than he’d known about his parents, than Bucky whom he’d grown up with and trusted else as his closest friend and advisor, more than his general Sam who he trusted with the security of his kingdom and his own life.
The betrothal, the brief period of engagement, the wedding, and the wedding feast had all been very public and formal. The moment the two of you had entered the royal carriage to make the journey to his small palace in the lake country for the honeymoon, everything was suddenly private and intimate. It was the first time Steve had truly been alone with you, and the first moments alone would have been awkward – he certainly hadn’t thought about that moment until suddenly the two of you were there alone – but you had clearly thought of the circumstance in advance and had been prepared to make easy conversation. While the first few minutes had been an effort to make conversation, they swiftly did progress to easy conversation. The topics had been largely trivial and unimportant, but the words were not stilted.
After a late and quick supper upon arrival, the two of you had retired to the royal bedchamber. Steve had expected a dutiful consummation, and duty may have called for the deed, but the execution had unexpectedly run deeper, warmer, with the undertones of the fledgling familiarity built over the few hours alone earlier. Each day the familiarity grew, and though there could have perhaps been moments that could have allowed each of you two part naturally, you both drew each other into extending conversations, going on walks or rides or visiting a new area of the palace together, continuing formally in the first few days until it became merely natural and the two of you forgot altogether the idea of spending much of the time apart.
Now he understood the nostalgia with which many referred to the honeymoon. It was a pity it was coming to an end. Two weeks ago, you were little more than strangers to be wed and fulfill your royal duties. Here on this final night, he could not think of it ending. Tomorrow he would go back to being the king again.
He sighed and turned his head to look at you. He wanted to reach for you, pull you closer, touch you, but the touching wouldn’t be enough, and he’d said sensibly that the two of you should retire early specifically so he could sleep and be well rested for his early departure. He hadn’t thought you warming his bed would be torture. He thought that it would be soothing and help him sleep. But this was worse, and the longer he listened, the less it seemed sleep would ever come to him. But he would not leave or send you away, it was the last night he would have this kind of closeness afforded to him with ease. He also didn’t want to disturb you if you were perhaps close to dropping off to sleep. Nearness was enough, even if it meant no sleep.
Suddenly you shifted, rolling to lie on your back, and you let out a long sigh of your own.
“Sleep alluding you, my queen?”
“As it seems to be alluding you, my king. I know the time is only slipping away until you’re required to wake and depart. Is my restless state keeping you awake?”
Steve laughed. “Perhaps, but not in the way you think.”
He rolled up on his elbow and places a hand on your hip, drawing circles there with his fingers.
“Perhaps I can beckon sleep for both of us in…other ways.”
His hand moved up to cup your breast. He gave a squeeze and brushed his thumb over your nipple, the thin fabric of your night shift barely there. You whimpered his name, arching slightly into his palm.
“Yes?” he pressed.
“Yes,” you pleaded.
While he reached down to pull up the hem of your nightdress, your hands went quickly to free his growing desire for you. Quickly he shifted his body over yours, nestling between your eagerly parting legs. He smiled as he guided his cock to your heated folds, happy to find you were already wet. He looked up to your face, and you bit your lip before reaching your hands up to his jaw and drawing him down to meet your lips. Steve devoured you with his kiss as he plunged into you, and you gave yourself up to him completely until you were both exhausted and sleep finally overtook you.
When one of his esquires woke him in the pre-dawn glow, he suppressed a groan of agitation. It is not the kind of king he has ever wanted to portray to his subjects. He will always be a dignified king. He was diligent in making sure you were tucked in with propriety before falling asleep himself, but he looks over to make sure your modesty is preserved this morning now with someone else in the room. He wants to kiss you goodbye, and while part of him wants nothing more than to wake you, see your eyes look up at him before he leaves, he refrains from doing anything more than brushing the hair off and away from your face with only the lightest caress. It would be silly to wake you for any more sentimentality. The honeymoon is truly over, and he only feels this consuming tie because of the unique circumstances of here and now. When you are both back in the capitol, it will be more normal and less sentimental. He will be himself again.
Downstairs in the hall there were simple foods ready for him to break his fast, and Lord Barnes and General Wilson were both waiting and ready to receive their king. Barnes would accompany him to Stark’s kingdom, but Wilson was there to escort the queen back to the castle.
“Guard her with your life,” Steve commanded.
Wilson gave a slight bow. “Yes, my king.”
Steve turns to look at Barnes only to find a smirk on the man’s face. “What is so amusing at this hour?”
“You gave that order as if he hasn’t been in your service for years.”
“She is the queen,” Steve reminded them.
“I will afford her the same safety and security that I have for your majesty since given the responsibility of this position.”
Steve shook his head, “You should afford her more than you do me.”
Without hesitation, he responded, “It will be done.”
Steve strode out of the foyer and Barnes fell in just one step behind him. “We need not rush away from the palace so soon. The official royal business of Stark’s expo does not require you so immediately.”
“This was the plan,” Steve retorted, “why would we alter course?”
“The sooner we leave, the sooner we can return to your queen,” he agreed.
“The sooner we can return to my kingdom, Lord Barnes.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
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danddymaro · 2 years
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Worth It | Steve Rogers x Reader
Reader is a little angsty / Former Hydra
same boat as Bucky basically
feel good stuff / Happy ending
Warning, it’s quite long my bbys.
Word count: 3615
Worth It
It was still early morning, just seconds before the hour hand had just touched the roman numeral 10 on her watch’s small oval face. 
Simultaneously, the heavens cried with loud, roaring thunder, soon letting falling droplets rain down to the surface of the earth without any reluctance.
When she had felt the first splash of liquid caress the tip of her nose, she came to a standstill, not moving an inch from the stop she had stood at.
 Stunned, she stayed motionless, slowly processing what had happened, because she hadn't really expected it.
“Rain…” She murmured almost dumbly, looking down at her upturned palms as they collected bits of water, the action performed subconsciously in response to the precipitation.
It was then that a placid smile slowly found its way over her features, the soft expression replacing the brooding one that had previously etched itself over her.
 She'd been caught by the downpour just like the rest of the unsuspecting population, however, as the rest of the world chose to bolt, she stayed to enjoy it, allowing herself to become kissed by every tiny speck of precipitation the sky could offer her, all with widespread arms of welcome. 
Feeling the water now cascade down her face in thin streams, she turned her head upwards to watch it all come down on her, the woman showered with cold splashes of affection without a single qualm.  
The murky sky continued to echo with heavy clapping sounds, ringing throughout the area with a grand, booming voice that demanded to be heard.
 It was a sound that some people would have found terrifying, more than likely bringing memories of childhood terrors, but in her case, it was just the contrary.  A soothing comfort washed forth, the sound serving as an earthy lullaby that brought  calmness to the (h/c) haired young woman, making her feel eased enough to unwind.
'It's chilly,' She thought to herself, finding peace in the sensation because the cold touch that graced her reminded her that she was alive. 
It reminded her that she was awake and no longer viewing the world behind a foggy screen door. 
The loud crashes and cold splashes reminded her of freedom and free will, no matter how chaotic and uncertain they were for everyone else.
 Another clash soon echoed, and the heavy sound stayed ringing in her ears, making her body shiver with the boom. 
She was well aware that she could simply walk away and seek refuge elsewhere. 
After all, she had the will to do so. Yet, all the same, she also had the same liberty to stay.
“I chose to stay,” she murmured, bathing beneath the grey skies.
‘My hands… my very soul and body...’ she thought with a small smile. ‘They are all mine,’ She mused.
A single tear strayed from her (e/c) eyes, melding with the sky's own sorrow, the sole droplet masked beneath the rain to the rest of the world. 
- And that's where he found her, standing alone, and gazing up at the sky with a strange, yet prepossessing expression look he couldn't quite place. 
He didn't know what to say to her, or where to begin,
 ‘What could I say?’ Moreover, ‘What haven't I already said?’ he wondered exasperated. 
'I just want you to be happy. 
- I just want you to come home.' he went on.
The closer he stepped towards her, the harder his heart worked, the accelerated pace nearly unbearable.
He went near, but was always stopped by an invisible wall, one she set up for anyone that tried to touch her, and it frustrated him to no end.
It hurt to come so close, yet be so far all the same.
Mutely, he stood just a few feet away, staring at her with tender blue eyes, not knowing what to do or say, but knowing well enough that he had to be there. 
And there was another thing he was certain of, and it was that it hurt him. 
The bared, melancholic sight of her hurt him in a way that left a burning pain.
Meanwhile, she'd known that eventually he'd follow her route, doing just as he'd done in the past. 
It hadn’t been an If, just when.
Occupied with the murky sky that had been riddled with heavy, thick clouds, her eyes did not stray from above.
“- I like the rain,” she said softly, trying to comfort his worry, attempting to convince him that everything was indeed fine. However, there was a falter in her voice that sounded of sorrow and stillness within. 
Her own voice had betrayed her, the tone of it recreating the tune of heartsick song that was nearly drowned out by the loud sound of downpour.
It could have been a simple breath that extended too much, or even a single eye bat that carried one, single dinky tear. 
It could have been something that meant nothing to someone else.
- But to him, it was a reason, A reason to persist.
He always found a reason to worry, an excuse to pave his way inside her heart and life despite the fair warnings he'd been given from just about every other person in his life that insisted that there was no reaching her.
Throughout it all, she tried hard to ignore it all, doing so to keep him at arm’s length, but as time passed, she began to let loose of her barriers, slowly give in to him. 
Truthfully, within her, there was a hidden hope buried deep within the depths of her being that urged him to reach out more. It begged him to take hold of her and make reason with the lingering memories of void and darkness she had been chucked through. 
'Just understand me. ' She sometimes thought to herself, 'Please...just wait for me,' she often thought, swallowing down the pleas instead, and attempting to drown them out with other voices that told her that she wasn't worth it. 
- That she'd hurt him. 
That she, as much as she could try, would never be happy or deserving of anything gracious that could come to her.
She’d come a long way from her initial perception of him.
It didn’t happen all at once, especially not when at first, it wasn’t easy to trust him. It wasn’t easy to simply give herself in to anybody, especially not when she’d smelt a hidden motive.
She had seen him as a selfish man at first, convinced that his motives weren't for her better being, but for his own gain.
 At first, she had come to the conclusion that she reminded him of his lost friend much more than he had first realized. 
Because they both were lost souls, Void vessels once harbored by human beings that had felt hope, that had felt joy and happiness alike. 
They were stripped of humanity, stripped of choices and will, and used like cold weapons.
‘It’s not you that he cares about,’ a little viscous voice would persist. ‘It’s not you that he wants to save,’ It would add, the thought one day coming out during an argument between the two.
Perhaps that was what it started out as; a way to rectify his shortcomings with Bucky. 
Admittedly, She was like a reminder of him, always guilting him for not finding a way to save him from the tortures he had endured. She was always there reminding Steve that he hadn't been there when Bucky needed him.
Perhaps, in some way, if he could find a way to save her, to bring light into her life, he could do the same for him. 
He could save them both.
Unknowingly he’d moved with his own motives, his own self satisfaction, and it had taken one argument for him to realize just what he was doing. 
And in that same conversation he’d realized that while it had started that way, his reason had changed.
Because it wasn’t about just Bucky.
It wasn’t about himself either. It wasn’t about his own shortcoming, or even the growing feeling he’d start to have for her, but rather, her, herself.
It was about (f/n).
It had just been her and the happiness he knew she deserved. 
She was an independent person wedged in his mind, also infecting his heart. 
And she meant much more than what she believed. 
She wasn't a way for him to feel better about his failures, instead, she was someone he had fallen for and was willing to give everything to.
He felt it in his heart.
It was like a silent calling that reeled him in.
During that same argument he'd taken her back when he told her that he loved her.
With a single breath he’d fought back with a confession that stunned them both.
He'd slipped up badly, and it even took him a moment to process what he'd said, and afterward he didn't try to explain himself or deny it.
"(f/n), " he merely said, and it wasn't the way he said it that caused her to shiver, but the idea that someone used the name to address her.
She had a name; her name.
It gave her individuality and personified her.
“You soaking wet,” he halfheartedly chided, stepping out close to her, offering her refuge under his umbrella to her. 
He wanted to share the space beneath it with her, just like he wanted to share so many other things with her, from the good to the bad, and that included everything in between.
He wanted to secure her and make the rain stop; reach her at any cost it took.
But as she stood there in her same misery, she had already become drenched and found it silly.
What good was it to shield her now that she had become soiled and filthy? 
Why would he try to save something already damaged? 
She always wondered why? 
‘Why me?’ 
when she finally faced him, she offered him a long glance with nothing written on her face, still devoid of joy, and even sadness.
And she was in a sense, she was a reminiscence of her old self, the one that had once been just an empty husk. And just when it seemed like an eternity had passed, she smiled broadly, hoping to fool him. 
During then a burning trail seeped down her face, her own rain silently descending.
 With her eyes becoming reddened with the sting of the salty trails mixing with the precipitation, there wasn't a way for her to hide the obvious pain crawling over her heavy heart from him again even if he couldn't see her tears flow.
- Even if he couldn't feel her same pain.
“You're so kind.” She commented, looking straight into his clear-colored eyes as she ignored his offer.
The loveliness of his pure blue's caused her heart to perform a rather involuntary jump that happened every so often in his presence, and she knew it meant that somehow, he'd managed to slip his way through to her.
Somewhere along the way she'd fallen in love too.
“...But I don't need it.” She continued, observing his fingers as they tightly clutched the holder, knowing he must have been frustrated by her refusal.
His fingers twitched slightly as they stayed curled on the umbrella's holder, and his face became stern because it was the only mask he had to hide what he truly felt. After all, it was the only way to hide how much it pained him to know she was all by herself, and much more, that she made sure to keep it that way.  
“Like I said… I like the rain.” She repeated, trying to dismiss him, hoping to push him away once again.
 Steve bit his lip uncomfortably because he desperately wanted to say something, but instead stepped back as he sighed, defeated.  
His shoulders dropped as he seemed to come to acceptance and defeat. 
- but it was only for that day. 
The next he’d start with another open slate, offering an open shelter again, repeating the process again and again until there was a different outcome. 
“I’ll go,” he told her, “But, please, just take this.” He said to her, pushing the umbrella holder in her face.
With doing that, the rain began to fall on him instead, saving her from the shower. 
Under the safe canopy the umbrella created for her, he could see streams still running down her (e/c) colored eyes even as she tried to glare at him, the woman retaining an expression that was akin to rage.
“ (f/n)” he said tenderly, grazing her wet cheek with his warm, large hand, the touch brief.
And for just a moment her eyes closed, her breath hitched at the warmth of his palm on her icy cheek, the rueful expression washed away with the simple touch.
 There was so much he wanted to say to her, but instead, he withdrew, leaving her under the safety of the umbrella, well with just that. 
‘One step at a time…
Little by little….’
He’d break those walls, waiting however long it took for her to truly realize that's all he wanted. 
She wasn't inclined to take him as anything more than a friend. if it made her happy, he was willing to offer her a more silent, and reserved form of love.
‘All I want is for you to be happy (f/n),’ and with that warm thought he left, willing to comply, drawing back again.
“You shouldn't have bothered, ” she said to herself, watching as he began to further himself from her before turning a corner that hid his retreating form from her.
 It wasn't his responsibility to save her, in fact, it wasn't anyone's duty but her own cross to bear.
‘Why does he make this hard,’ she wondered while gritting her teeth. 
She hated the way he made her feel. 
She despised how light her usually heavy heart felt when he spoke to her, much more when he paid attention to her. 
Especially when he sought her because he'd come far past a point where almost everyone else had long lost their interest in her.
They'd realized she wasn't worth it, so why won't he?
“Why do you keep trying?” She uttered, feeling a pestering clench in her chest that left her withering as she recalled how bold he'd been when he'd told her he loved her.
Was love really that stupid?
Enough to ignore such bright, burning red flags?
 For a few silent minutes, she stayed still, alone.
She recalled how his large muscled back had been clothed by a thin, wet t-shirt, a plain off white he'd worn the day before.
He was still wearing his pajama sweats, walking on the wet, concrete ground barefooted, and it was then that she realized just how urgent he'd been to get to her. 
‘He ran out here for me.’ she thought with a sniffle, the realization dawning upon her slowly.
"You idiot...You probably ran out here without even thinking about it." She said with an airy chuckle, just imagining the panic he wore as he made his way through the filled streets. 
'I worry you so much.'
The holder had been warm after he released it to her, so, she could still feel the aftermath of his touch to it on her own wet, cold palm, and at that, she tightly closed her eyes, focusing on the soft heat that slowly melted with her resurfacing one.
'Because I mean so much to you...' she mused.
 “You're such an idiot,” she muttered, taking a deep, steadied breath, soon releasing it in a shaky shutter that ended with an airy chuckle. 
 She then brushed away the last of her tears with her free hand, looking down at the puddled ground with upturned brows. 
Her mouth itched to quirk up, but all the same, she struggled to stop her tears. 
Her breathing continued to fasten until she was left with hard pants that quickly formed into sobs she just couldn't control.
Wobbly legs nearly caved, and she heard the two voices argue.
One side was crying for him to come back, begging him to return as the other was nearly a snarl, bitterness laced in the words that would proceed it as it reminded her of all the horrible things she'd done, and how she would never rectify them.
She didn't deserve him one bit, and he sure as hell didn't deserve all of the trouble she was worth.
She then fell to her knees, and alone, she hugged herself, miserable under the same loneliness and cold rain she'd claimed to love.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━
His name was just a whisper at first, a weak and frail sound that struggled to leave her, but soon it grew in volume as well as in urgency.
In need, and in true want, she repeated his name, wanting him to stop, waiting for him to just stay for her.
Startled, he turned around to the sound of quick steps in the water, splashes of puddles caused by running legs and stomping feet.
She headed straight towards him in a heated run, heavy heaves lifting her chest as she forced herself to push forward. 
All the while, she tightly clutched the umbrella's rod within two tightly wrung hands, holding it upright as she dashed through the emptied city in search of the endearing man.
As she neared him, she slowed down, soon coming to an abrupt stop that almost toppled her over. 
She then stood a few feet away from him, just barely out of arm's reach from him. 
If she chose to try and grasp him, her fingertips would definitely graze him, and that's where they'd stood for so long that it should have felt natural if not for the nagging pain in her chest that told her it wasn't. 
She stared back at him, looking like a completely different person altogether, one that seemed new but certainly wasn't a stranger because It was only her without a mask. 
Her, truly bared.
Her eyes shone with hope she’d always swallow, and much more swirling emotions she usually hid beneath a layer of jaded stone that had seemed unbreakable. And it was the first time he could read the two (e/c) colored eyes clearly, no undertones, no hidden messages, just (f/n) in her raw state. 
It was the girl that had been too weak to break through the barriers she incased herself in before.
 It was the same broken person that had been in there, stuck behind the thick walls, always hoping he’d burst his way through, wishing he wouldn't come to the same defeat everyone else had accepted. 
' I'm not like you.' She silently lamented. ' I've done more bad than good. 
Even if you keep assuring me it wasn't me. 
The thing is, even if you keep telling me it wasn't my fault...I remember it from the perspective of a monster. 
I remember it all...
I remember them all.'
“Steve...don’t go,” she pleaded with him. "Not yet."
Altogether it winded him, and as he took that first breath of anticipation, she offered him a shaky smile, not quite remembering how to truly form the expression, and instead, letting the beautiful feeling that he caused finally take over. 
It wasn’t the same false upturn she’d offer everyone else when she wanted to be left alone, but rather, one true to her heart.
 “ Can…. Can we just walk together?” she asked struggling to say the words, each syllable struggled through.
She swallowed a thick lump as he stayed silent, the man still stunned.
It was then that an existing fear took a clutch of her stilled heart, as she realized that perhaps she might have been too late. 
‘ Have you already had enough?' She wondered, 'Did I end up ruining everything?'
Was this all just punishment?
- All she should expect.
  Mustering up a smile meant just for her, he approached the shivering young woman, taking refuge with her under the large, black umbrella. 
"Of course," he answered her, answering her in a tone that spoke for itself, assuring her there was no reason to think otherwise.
The man soon grazed his fingers over her small, tightly wound hand, taking the holder back into his hold, the Large coverage hovering above them both as he lifted it. 
 All the while he looked down at her, studying the sweet exposure of her (e/c) colored orbs, taking in the sight with glowing soft blues. 
 With falling rain still coming down in heavy waves, he made sure to keep her tucked safely under his arm, holding her near, and willingly she allowed him closer, the woman going as far as to cuddle closer. 
She felt oddly safe while exposed and it was a feeling that was nearly addicting. 
Was this what love was?
Stupid...vulnerable, but safe?
The uncertainty and insecurity that came with coming closer was battled and being conquered by the warmth he ignited in her. 
'It's ok if I'm afraid... right?'
He would show her she was worthy of a chance, worthy of life, deserving of both care and attention. Even if it’d take him all the time in the world he had left, he'd find a way to show her, and it was a silent oath he took. 
'Show me the way back,' She pleaded, ' And Please stay by me,' She went on, 
'I don't think I'm worth it.
I don't think I deserve it.
…But please change my mind. 
Please show me something different
Steve Stay with me.
Even if I’m afraid...I want to be afraid in your arms.'
A/N: A Long time ago I made one for Bucky with the focus being an umbrella and this was supposed to be Steve’s version. This has been in my drafts since then, which is sad. I know, I suck.
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Text
.⋆。What I Cannot Give You。⋆.
Steve Rogers x plus size reader
After sleeping with your boyfriend for the second time, you find out that he’s never cum with you- but his ex says that he always did with her
Warnings: smut, angst, insecurities, feelings of inadequacy, misunderstanding, inability to finish (on Steve’s end), ooc!Sharon, mentions of diets, comfort
WC: 2.3k
Minors DNI
Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library
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“Alright, what’s going on?” Numbly, you looked up from your cold cup of tea to meet the piercing green eyes of your best friend. Natasha was almost glaring at you as she stood with her hands on her slim hips, quite obviously having been watching you for some time.
You swallowed thickly. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong.” Her scowl deepened.
“That’s not what I asked now was it?” Your stomach flipped and you squeezed the teacup even tighter. “But now that you’ve said that, what’s wrong? And don’t you dare lie to me, I’ll know.” 
You should’ve known that Nat would spot your unease from a mile away, you should’ve just stayed in your room. But the need for food and a distraction from your thoughts had been too great of a temptation. Your vision blurred with tears as you pitifully shook your head. 
Suddenly, all the exasperation was gone from her expression and she was kneeling before you, one hand on your knee, the other on the arm of the couch. “Hey, hey don’t cry.” You whimpered loudly, now unable to stop the onslaught of emotions.
“It- it’s fine. Everything’s fine.” With a free hand, you furiously wiped away the fat tears that were now rolling down your full cheeks. Natasha sighed heavily and pulled the cup from you, placing it on the coffee table behind her.
“Was it that commercial about the cat and the raccoon again?” She teased though her tone still held some strain of wariness. 
“No.” You groaned tearfully, making Nat smile warmly at you.
“Then it can’t be so bad can it?” Moving gracefully, she plopped down on the couch cushion next to you, taking your shaking hands into her steady ones. “Did something happen with Steve?” The watery look you gave her in return was all the answer she needed.
“Stevie!” You cried, your head tossed back in pleasure. It was overwhelming, overpowering, it was everything. The man above you groaned as you tightened around him once more, practically strangling his cock with the force of your orgasm.
Your nails scraped down his muscular back, leaving behind bright red lines that would disappear before dawn even broke the horizon. “Feels so good!” Your sobs echoed through the room along with the wet slapping of skin as his hips met yours.
Blonde hair brushed against your nose as Steve buried his face into your neck, lathering your burning skin with even hotter kisses. “That’s it doll, one more time for me please.” And as the fat head of his cock hit that spongy bundle of nerves inside you, you obliged him. Though less powerful than your previous three, your soft body still tensed with ecstasy and your mind went hazy.
“Good girl, my good girl.” Steve muttered softly, laying one last gentle peck to your shoulder before he pulled himself away from you. “Did you have a good time?”
You rolled your eyes with a smile. “I can’t feel anything below my hips, does that answer your question?” He chuckled and kissed the tip of your nose.
“Alright, no need to be smart about it.” As gently as he could manage, Steve sat back on his haunches and slowly pulled out of you. You whined at the sudden emptiness of your cunt and the soreness that came along from having his massively thick length inside of you.
But there was no other sensation after that, no telltale feeling of cum inside of you or drying on your thick thighs. Furrowing your eyebrows, you looked at your boyfriend. “Did you finish?” The question came out more shaky than you intended but Steve seemingly didn’t notice.
“No but you did and that’s all that matters.” He dismissed as he stood up from the mattress. You sat up on your elbows, not done with the conversation just yet.
“That’s the second time it’s happened and we’ve only had sex twice.” You pointed out but Steve just sighed.
“It’s fine, it happens sometimes. I’m just happy that you felt good. That’s more than enough for me. Now stay there so I can clean you up.” And as he walked to the attached bathroom, your heart sank and a pit began to grow in your stomach.
“Stevie.” You started but quickly stopped as his blue eyes bore into you. Rage oozed from them like lava, stunning you into silence.
“That’s enough. I told you it’s fine, I won’t be having this conversation again.” With tensed shoulders and clenched fists, he left the room leaving you lost and feeling far more empty than ever before.
“Okay so he didn’t finish but you did. I see no problem with that, it would be the opposite for most guys.” Nat shrugged, a lean arm around your shoulders as she continued to comfort you despite her apparently dismissal of the whole thing.
You huffed, now more frustrated than distraught. “That’s not the point.” You tried to yank away but she held strong, easily pinning you back down onto the couch.
“Then what is?” She implored.
“That I’m not enough for him!” You cried. “That I’m not pretty enough or good enough in bed to even get him to cum! There has to be something wrong with me and he’ll figure that out soon enough and leave me.” Fear and sadness filled your heart as you spilled out your deepest fears to your best friend who was now stunned unto silence.
“He’ll find someone better, just like everyone else did.” You bit down on your lip as more tears rose to the surface. 
“Pcholka-“ She started but was quickly interrupted by another person strutting into the communal living area.
Sharon Carter, the very personification of everything that you wished you could be, was smirking devilishly as she strolled past you and Natasha, apparently heading for the kitchen. You held your breath as she gracefully walked by, her high heels (which weren’t needed for her job) clacked against the expensive flooring. 
“Don’t mind me ladies, just getting myself a protein shake. This new diet is a killer I tell ya but it’s so worth it.” Her smirk made you shrink into yourself but Natasha’s firm grip kept you from escaping. 
An uncomfortable silence settled over the room as Sharon flitted about the kitchen. Until she finally began her walk back out. You breathed a sigh of relief as she passed by the couch once more but right as she reached the door frame, she turned back and made eye-contact with you.
“Oh Steve always finished with me.” Your eyes went wide with shock. Sure there had been rumours that your boyfriend and the CIA agent had been involved but nothing more ever came out of it so you always just dismissed it as office gossip, until now. “Every. Time.” She said, rubbing even more salt in your already wounded ego.
“No one fucking asked you Sharon. In fact, why are you even here, weren’t you reassigned because of your fuckup in Bosnia?” Natasha snarled, her eyes narrowing on the other agent. She twisted her body around, giving you the opportunity to rip from her grasp and make a run for it.
Nat called out your name but all you could focus on was the way that Sharon smirked at you, her bright eyes alight with an evil plan and you wouldn’t be sticking around to watch it play out, not when you knew that she would be successful.
——————
Being the completely understanding and perfect boyfriend he was, Steve could be easily avoided with a simple text that you weren’t feeling well and needed some alone time. He would always ask if you needed anything and you could tell that he was curious as to why you weren’t letting him come take care of you but he respected you too much to pry any deeper.
Natasha hadn’t been so easy to avoid but your stubbornness won out over hers so she had left you alone, just like you wanted. It was easier being alone with your thoughts than having her try to convince you that what you were feeling was stupid and a total misunderstanding.
Groaning, you threw your phone across the bed. The screen was still bright with the Cosmopolitan article about ’10 Tips and Tricks to Make Him Go Crazy For You’, all of which seemed very expensive in the case of toys and lingerie or positions that you were not nearly flexible enough to pull off.
Maybe it was hopeless, you already knew that you weren’t good enough for him so what did it matter if you couldn’t get him off. You were barely even together in the first place, it wasn’t as if you were already in love with him and breaking up would devastate you.
You rolled over onto your side and curled into the pillow that miraculously still smelt like him, squeezing it tightly to your chest. This feeling was familiar, the drop of your stomach, the stutter of your heart like you were at the precipice of a cliff and unable to stop moving forward. 
And all you could think about was the disgust and the anger in Steve’s eyes that night. It was like in that moment he also figured out how one-sided the relationship was and he hated you for it.
“Doll, I know you’re in there.” Your body snapped up, your muscles pulled taut with anxiety. “You don’t have to open the door, I just want to know if you’re ok. Nat said you were having a tough time.” 
“I’m fine Steve, just having a moment.” You tried to dismiss but the dry crack of your voice had him opening your door and slipping inside. 
In the dim light of your bedroom, Steve’s figure was imposing, his sheer size creating a void in the space. Your heartbeat pounded loudly in your ears as he gently shut the door behind him. “You only ever call me Steve when something’s wrong.” His steps were featherlight as he cautiously crept closer.
“Steve-“ 
“See, there it is again. I’m your Stevie not Steve.” He whined playfully, making a ghost of a smile dance across your lips. The mattress dipped under the weight of one of his hands as he planted it by your wide hips, giving you enough space to be respectful but close enough that you could feel the heat of his skin through your pyjamas.
He leaned closer as if going in for a kiss but you stopped him with a hand to his strong chest. He paused for barely a second before he pulled your hand away and brought it up to his lips. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Your eyes dropped to your lap, you could guess what was coming next. ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ or ‘I just think we’re better off as friends’. But instead of the breakup you thought was going to happen, Steve hooked a finger under your chin and guided your gaze back to him.
“Is this about the other night? I told you that you didn’t have to worry about that.” He tutted as his thumb gently caressed your jaw. You hesitated nuzzling into his touch, still too hurt to want that comfort.
“But why would you even be with me if I can’t make you feel good?” As soon as the words slipped from your mouth, you regretted them. Steve’s expression turned stormy and suddenly, his grip became tighter until your jaw ached from the force of it.
You could see the way the vein in his neck twitched as an angry flush crawled up his cheeks. You knew he wanted to yell, to lash out at you but he quickly swallowed down his anger, taking a deep breath before he spoke again.
“You do make me feel good. You make me feel amazing, both in and out of the bedroom. You’re gorgeous doll, and smart and funny and caring. I’m with you because of that, not because I want to just get off. I get pleasure from your pleasure.” He cooed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against your own.
His breath fanned across your lips as his other hand finally cupped your hip beneath your oversized shirt. “Sharon told me that you always finished with her.” You whispered, your fingers curling into the compression shirt he wore.
His pecs rippled with your touch, his heartbeat strong beneath your palms. “I can’t cum, doll. Or at least I can’t anymore.” Taking a shaky breath, he continued.
“I don’t think I’ve cum since before the serum.” His voice was soft, ashamed. His broad shoulders dropped as he finally admitted the truth. “It did something to me that no one has been able to figure out yet but we’re getting closer.”
“But Sharon-“
“I faked it with her. Every time.” At your puzzled expression, Steve smiled softly. “I always wore condoms so she couldn’t tell and besides, it was only a couple times before you were even around. I haven’t thought about her since the moment you walked into the tower on your first day.”
Only now did you melt into his hold, letting him pull you closer as he endeavoured to comfort you. “You’re all I want, all I need. I promise.” 
“Really?” You whispered, your lips drawing closer to his. The corners of his eyes scrunched as he smiled back at you.
“Really. As long as you don’t mind that I can’t fill you up with my cum, mark you from the inside out.” He growled playfully. Heat rushed to your cheeks at the dirty talk, your mind now filled with images of just that.
“Stevie!” You yelped but was cut off by his lips pressing against yours. Your heart skipped a beat as he held you tighter, the kiss quickly becoming far more passionate.
“That’s my good girl.” 
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hansensgirl · 5 months
Text
☠️ — 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝
summary. | Steve Rogers and his wife have a precarious arrangement in which she can have as many affairs as she likes, as long as she doesn’t ask for a divorce. But a man like him only has so much patience. And there you are, his child’s babysitter, too sweet to resist.
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pairings. | Dark!Steve Rogers x baby-sitter!fem!reader, Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter (brief), Peggy Carter x numerous OMCs (implied/mentioned).
warnings. | NON/DUB-CON (leaning more towards dubious consent), smut, age gap, Halloween celebrations, deceit, manipulation, Steve is mean to his wife, obsession, possessiveness, implied murder (not the reader), mentions of masturbation (m), fingering (f), kissing, nipple play, Sir kink, mild Daddy kink, creampie, dirty talk, power dynamics/imbalance, praise, mild degradation, pet names (sweetheart, sweetie, honey, baby, love), missionary, rough sex, mentions of exhibitionism, mentions of riding, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!
word count. | ~4.8k
author’s note. | hello! happy belated halloween! i know i’m a bit late—i’m sorry. here’s the dark!steve fic i was talking about. it’s a Deep Water!AU. please enjoy and heed the warnings! thank you @cuttlefjsh for beta-ing and putting up with me! let me know what you think. thank you for reading! taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY
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The leaves fall apart underneath the pace of his feet. The hill slopes downwards, and the branches snap and hit the ground. Steve keeps pushing—keeps running even though he’s long devolved from a jog. The burn in his lungs is beautiful. He’s breathless.
For once, he doesn’t have to think about little Sarah and her mother. He doesn’t have to worry like a housewife, even though he was once the man of the house.
Millions in revenue. Two vacation homes. Endless income. But it’s never enough for her.
When Steve reaches the creek, he stops. The Apple watch on his wrist clocks in an unhealthy amount of steps. Unhealthy for everyone else, at least. He’s always been above average, and now he’s just like the rest.
Another greying head in the sea of a crowd. Another typical client his shrink has with the same old problems—a cheating wife, a midlife crisis.
His phone buzzes, and Steve half-expects a reminder he doesn’t need. But it’s better—so much better than he could ever predict.
It’s you—your name with a heart. His spouse doesn’t even have that—she’s just got her entire government name with “wife” in parentheses.
Hi, Mr. Rogers. Hope you enjoyed your weekend! I wanted to confirm that I’m coming tonight. I texted Mrs. Rogers yesterday, but I haven’t received a reply yet. Sorry to be pushy. I just need to know in time. Thanks, and Happy Halloween! 🎃
He sighs. He’s never understood why you always go to Peggy first, even though you’ve seen her incompetency more than you do your own family. He’ll have a talk with you tonight—while Peggy is out on a date with her latest suitor.
Hey, honey. I hope your weekend is as wonderful as you are. Yes, we’re still on for tonight. Don’t worry about my wife. From now on, just come to me, okay? Be here by 7:00, please. Thanks. Happy Halloween! 👻
Steve replies a few minutes later, but you read his message immediately. The timestamp makes him smile. Soon, the ‘typing’ icon pops up and following it is your message.
Great, thank you so much! See you then :)
You even leave a ‘heart’ on his text message; he does the same to yours. A sigh escapes the older man’s chest. His heart has returned to its regular rate, and the sweat on his back has cooled.
The scene before him is gorgeous—but doesn’t even hold a candle to your beauty. The thought of you is more addictive than any illicit substance. It calms him down when he needs to and riles him up at the worst times.
Steve says it’s not fair. Peggy shouldn't have all the fun with her boyfriends—even when her husband gets rid of them quicker than need be. It’s exhausting to deviate from law enforcement for a woman who doesn’t care about her own family.
She gets to devise grand schemes and say mean words to him. She doesn’t bother with her own daughter. She doesn’t lift a finger or pay for a thing with money she earned. Steve has to live in the shadows—and he’s tired of it.
The almost 50-year-old man follows his usual trail back home. Sirens pass behind him, heading toward some emergency that he undoubtedly has nothing to do with. Not this time, at least.
He feels like a dog in the manger. Everyone can have Peggy (to a certain extent), but he can’t have anyone himself.
Fake cobwebs and pumpkins sit outside houses on each side of the road. It’s the spookiest night of the year, yet you have no plans. No parties to attend with some stupid little boyfriend who wouldn’t know how to fuck you the way he would.
When Steve unlocks the front door, he finds his wife’s heels strewn on the floor and his daughter watching cartoons in the living room. He kisses Sarah’s head and ensures she’s eaten the entirety of her breakfast. He tried his best with ghost-shaped pancakes, though they turned out more like blobs than anything. She doesn’t mind at all.
Sarah’s a brainiac, her new hobby being those kits that teach you how to hook wires into potatoes and other vegetables. Steve applauds her creations every time she shows them off, noting the little technological genius in her that he must’ve contributed to.
That is, if he’s her biological father.
The television screen plays her choice of cartoons, with a Halloween theme for the special day. He smiles when she laughs before heading upstairs.
Peggy has the largest room with the nicest furniture. She spends little time there unless she’s getting ready to go out or recovering from a hangover.
Steve knocks on her door. Despite there being no answer, he unlocks it and lets himself in. His wife is wide awake, eye makeup smudged a bit, but she’s wearing her signature jeans with a tank top.
She turns around and smiles at the sight of him. “What do you think?” she asks, gesturing to the costume she has laid out.
It’s a vampire—that’s as much as he gathers. The little voice in his head tells him how fitting it is—Peggy has sucked the life out of him for the last seven years.
“Perfect,” Steve tells her, giving her his most forced smile, and they both know she sees right through it.
“Good. And what are you going as?” she questions, turning her back to him. He genuinely contemplates this for a second.
For the last few years, he’s always worn a cheap cape and said he’s a superhero. But he’s tired of the same thing all the time.
“I’m not sure. I’ll come up with something, though. What time are you leaving?” Steve asks. “Oh, probably around six. Don’t wait up for me. You’ll take Sarah trick-or-treating, right?” Peggy smiles, unwilling to take ‘no” for an answer.
Steve says nothing and simply leaves. He takes his phone out of his pocket—sleek screen and a photo of you and Sarah as one of his wallpapers—and pulls up his conversation with you.
Hey, hon. Do you mind coming a bit earlier? 6:30 will do.
He doesn’t even have to wait for your reply.
Sure! Do you want me to stay the night, too? I don’t mind.
Always diligent. Always a sweetheart.
Please do. The door will be unlocked.
You give his message a thumbs-up, and he sighs.
Tonight will be the night. Tonight, he’ll finally get what he wants, and no one can stop him. Not even you.
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You give the door a knock three times, even though you’re more than welcome to simply enter. It feels wrong, though. Too familiar, too casual.
Halloween is one of your favourite holidays. It’s a day full of excitement and creativity, and the month leading up to it is terrific. The turning leaves and the cold weather that lets you wear your coziest sweaters. The candy is the cherry on top of the entire delicacy.
You’ve never been on for extravagant costumes due to your procrastination. Tonight, you’re an angel. You don an all-white get-up; a lace dress, sheer tights, and matching shoes. You have a borrowed halo on your head and floppy wings on your back. It’s the best you can do for now.
Steve opens the door a few moments later, and he’s wearing a black suit. His hair is gelled, and he has a toothy grin—a change from his usual scowl. You smile at the sight of him.
“Happy Halloween!” you cheer, and he laughs. “Happy Halloween, sweetheart. What are you supposed to be? The devil?” he jokes. “Hardy-har-har. I’m an angel. But what are you? A CEO?” you ask, raking your eyes up and down his body.
The older man basks in your attention, his ears burning red.
“Actually, I’m a groom. Something different from the superhero thing, you know? It was the only thing I could come up with,” he sheepishly admits, and you wave his shyness away. “I love that! I never see anyone do something simple yet unique. But no decorations?”
You glance back at his front lawn and see nothing but withered flowers and yellow leaves from the neighbour’s over-arching tree. His porch simply has a bowl of candy with a threatening “TAKE ONE (1)” sign, assumingly written by Sarah.
“Nope. But there’s always next year!” he reassures. You giggle and nod your head. Your cheeks burn from smiling so much. Do you find him amusing? Or is it forced? Steve has numerous questions running through his mind, some exciting the butterflies in the attic that is his stomach, and some boiling his blood.
“C’mon in. No jacket? You must be freezing. You’re better than that, honey,” he chides like the father he is. He locks the door behind you—chain and all. “I didn’t think it’d be this cold,” you admit, removing your shoes. Steve takes them from you and places them on the rack where Peggy’s usual ankle boots would be.
You note the absence of her items and the lack of noise from the television. You don’t pay them much mind.
“Ah, rookie mistake. If you want, you can borrow a jacket from me,” he offers, picking up a stray black feather from the floor. You set your small backpack on the bottom step and follow his lead.
“So… What’s Sarah’s costume? She kept talking about being a minion, and then a cow, so I’m not too sure,” you laugh, and Steve does the same. “Peggy wanted her to be one of those Mario characters, but you know Sarah. Tonight, she’s Albert Einstein. Including the wig, of course.”
When you enter the clean living room, you expect to see her adorable face dressed as the notorious physicist. But she’s not there—and neither are the family photos.
“Um, sir, where is she?” you question, and he gestures to one of the sofas. You take a seat and wait for his return. He comes back with two drinks and hands you one of them. “Sarah is at her grandma’s. Peggy is at one of those parties she always goes to,” Steve coolly explains.
“Oh, are we going there? Or do you want me to stay back and give candy out?” You take a sip of your drink—a cherry limeade you once raved about to him. The sparkling water fizzles on your tongue. “No, she’ll be going trick-or-treating with her cousins.”
There’s a beat. A moment. And it lasts for a while.
“Uh, so what am I doing here?” you query. “Sweetheart. I’m a bit disappointed. You probably think that’s all I want you here for, don’t you? C’mon, you’re more than a babysitter to me.”
Steve places emphasis on his last word. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers, but I really don’t understand what you’re implying,” you profess, downing more of your drink out of sheer nervousness. Are you being fired? Are they moving? Did you do something wrong?
“Oh, honey, c’mere,” he says, even though he comes to you. He moves from his position across from you—standing tall in his full, towering height. Steve sits down next to you and places his large, warm hand on your cold left thigh. “Don’t be scared. M’not gonna hurt you. You’re not in trouble,” he says in a low tone.
When he’s this close to you, you can see the details of his face entirely. Whenever you’ve tried to admire him from afar, it’s like he knows when you’re looking.
“You’re so sweet… So pretty. I bet you’re nice and soft, too, hm? And you’ll be a good girl for me?” he asks, and you furrow your brows. You open your mouth to say something to him, but you’re quickly shut up with a searing kiss.
Steve presses his lips against yours, and it’s better than anything he could have ever imagined. The fantasies he’s had during those late nights or showers with his fist wrapped around his cock don’t even compare.
He takes charge, pushing his tongue inside your mouth and exploring within. His strong hands scoop you into his lap, one of them holding the back of your head. You lean back as Steve’s forwardness dominates you. You’re not sure what to do, so you place your palms on his shoulders and use a bit of force to try to push him away.
The married man doesn’t budge. It’s getting hard to breathe, and you feel like he’s sucked the air out of your lungs. You sink your teeth down lightly on what you think is his tongue, and he hisses as he pulls away.
“Sir– We can’t do this. It isn’t right. I– I mean, you’re my boss, and you have a wife—and poor Sarah, she doesn’t deserve this–”
“Fuck Peggy. Do you really think she cares? I don’t love her, never have. I only love you, darling. Now, what you just di–”
“Love me? Mr. Rogers, I think you’re mistaken. Maybe it’s just because we’re alone, or you and Peggy have been distant, but you don’t love me, Sir. I won’t mention this to anyone, I swear. And I’ll find another job if you’d like,” you breathlessly explain, shaking your head.
Steve shushes you with a snarl. “You’re not leaving me.” His voice is stern, and his tone says it all—there’s no arguing. “Please,” you try to get off the older man’s lap, but he holds onto you tightly. “We’re perfect for each other, honey. Don’t you see? Sarah loves you, and you love her. And look! I’m your groom, and you’re my angelic wife,” he exclaims, pulling the halo and ripping the wings off.
You gasp at his strength and audacity. You’d try to fight him, but you know you’d end up more hurt than anything. “Please don’t make this difficult,” he demands, adding your name. The mention makes you flinch, as he rarely says it.
“Look at those eyes… All blown out. I bet you’re soaking, aren't you?” Steve asks, but you don’t reply. His blue irises seem much darker in the dim lighting. His pupils are wide, and it’s like looking at a man who’s been possessed. “You’re probably making a mess of your panties, and we’ve barely even started. Does that always happen when you’re around me? Gosh, I bet you smell so sweet.”
His words make you whimper, and he smiles. “Oh, and look at those perfect tits,” he hums, groping them. Your nipples are stiff as peaks, and the rough touch from Steve has you shuddering. “Pl– Please,” you beg as he pulls at the nubs. The pain teeters on pleasure, and you squeeze your thighs to put an end to the thrumming at your core.
“‘Please,’ what, sweetie? Hm?”
“Please, Sir,” you whisper.
The title makes him groan. “Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting you,” Steve expresses. You don’t want to know. “Ever since we met… D’you remember that floral dress you wore? That you kept pulling up? God, I wanted to take you right there…”
You remember that day all too well. Seeing Mr. Rogers in all his glory was riveting, and the slight crush you developed lives on. Now—you’re not sure. Your brain is a mess, and you can’t think straight.
Your boss lifts you up bridal style, and he doesn’t let this go unnoticed. “See? We were meant for each other, honey. And we don’t even need a wedding.”
He sets you down on the bed in the room on the main floor. You’ve stayed here from time to time when Peggy likes to come out at two in the morning, and Steve is beyond worried for her.
Was it all a farce? You remember those times and how he never called her or insisted on picking her up.
Steve’s hands pull at your cheap dress, and he rips it down the middle. You regret your choice of not wearing a bra, but either way, it would’ve done nothing.
He cups your breasts, and you moan at the touch. He latches his mouth onto one nipple as he plays with the other. His mouth is skilled—his tongue flicking and teeth slightly grazing the sensitive skin.
Mr. Rogers’ fingers are just as talented. They pinch, pull, and twist at your other peak simultaneously. He switches eventually, and you’re a puddle beneath the imposing man.
Your back is arched slightly, and you’re practically pushing your chest into his face, and he chuckles. “So desperate. You need me so badly, don’t you?” he says, nodding his head and smiling when you mimic him for a split second. “Atta girl—so good for me.”
Steve pulls back, and you whine. He soothes you and pulls his jacket off. You can see the ripples of muscle beneath the white collared shirt. He unbuckles his belt with swiftness. You gnaw on your bottom lip despite its swollenness.
Soon, he’s back on you. Your boss hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, and he pulls them down your legs, admiring the strings of slick that break from the distance. He pushes the cloth into his pocket, and you clench when you think of the things he’ll do with it later on.
In your mind is a tiny voice that chides your every wrongdoing—how you haven’t fought back as much as you should. But there’s a louder one that was once lovesick over the married man before you, and it’s far more convincing.
Steve spreads your legs and curses at the sight of your sopping cunt. You involuntarily clench from the exposure. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy, baby,” he murmurs, leaning over you. One arm keeps him up, and the other bends your knees, giving him better access.
His fingers slide against your folds, collecting wetness as he caresses your lips. You let out a pleasured sigh, secretly wishing he would stop tormenting you and just get it over with. “So sensitive, too. I bet you’ll make such a mess on my cock.”
You never knew Steve could have such a filthy mouth—and God, do his words have your head spinning.
He quickly finds your swollen, throbbing clit and lightly touches it. The sensations on your little pearl are mild, but they’re enough to have you writhing beneath Steve. He draws light circles with the tips of his fingers. Your mouths brush against each other, and he teases you until you’re whispering pleas against his lips.
“Shh… It’s okay, love,” he reassures. Once he knows he has you worked up enough, Steve pushes the first digit into your pussy. The intrusion has you gasping, which turns into a whimper when he shoves another in. “Lookatcha, honey. You’re takin’ my fingers like a champ. This cunt is so tight, though. I’m really gonna have to stretch ya to fit my cock in there.”
The idea of his large cock barely fitting inside you makes your muscles involuntarily constrict against Steve’s fingers.
It takes a moment for you to adjust to the intrusion, though your walls welcome him like a familiar friend. His fingers are longer and thicker than yours, and with ease, he reaches that sweet spot most boys your age miss.
Eventually, Steve begins to fuck you on his hand. His digits slide in and out of you with ease as he picks up the pace. The skin glistens from your slick, and it’s a sight to behold. He creates a scissor motion with his two fingers every now and then, stretching you out while having you at his mercy.
It doesn’t take long for your moans to get louder while your face forms a frown of pleasure. The squelching sound of your cunt and that build-up just above your core are tell-tale signs that you’re about to come. “Oh, sir…!” you wail, and Steve picks up the pace.
“I can feel that cunt clenching on me, honey. God, you’re so beautiful this way. C’mon, make a mess on my hand. Come for me,” he rasps, rubbing his cheek against yours.
Your eyes squeeze shut when you come undone on Mr. Rogers’ hand. Your aching hole squeezes his fingers, and he makes you ride your orgasm out. Your back arches, and you let out a loud moan as pleasure shocks every nerve in your body. The lewd sounds of your cunt are noisy.
You find yourself immediately wanting more, even though you shouldn’t.
“Good girl—such a good girl for me,” Steve coos before slowly sliding his fingers out your channel. Your inner walls already miss the presence of his digits. You struggle to catch your breath, but in the midst of it all, you hear your boss pull the zipper to his pants down.
“I can’t wait to get inside of you, sweetie. I need you so badly it hurts,” he says while pressing kisses against the side of your neck. Steve climbs on top of you as he frees his aching cock from the confines of his boxers.
He grips himself by the base, his entire hand wrapped around his hardness. He gives himself a few strokes as pre-cum leaks from his slit, sliding down his bulbous head. His size is marvellous, a raging purplish-red with a thick base. Steve slaps the tip of his cock against your clit, and you flinch from the unexpected jolt of pleasure. “Fuck…” he curses.
“Are you looking, sweetie? This is such a special moment for us—I hope you remember it well,” he hums in your ear, and out of your natural obedient instinct, you lift your head to where you two are about to be connected. The sight of Steve’s cock makes you whimper. “Shit, what a good little slut.”
He drags the head of his dick through your dripping folds, and then he pushes in. The sudden stretch causes your skull to fall back against the bed. You try to close your legs, but Steve’s presence makes that impossible. He refuses to let you hide what’s his.
The older man completely sheathes himself inside your pussy. The squelching sound has you cringing in shame, but that quickly disappears when the feeling of fullness takes over. Steve’s balls touch your ass when he bottoms out, and your breathing is rapid from the sensuality of it all.
A hand wraps around your throat—though gentle, it scares you at first. Your eyes meet with Mr. Rogers’, and he looks at you with what appears to be adoration.
“You feel just like heaven,” he simply tells you. “I’m never letting you go after this—never was plannin’ on it, anyway.”
Before you can even process his words, Steve starts to fuck you. His pace is slow at first, and he hits your sweet spot with ease—a feat most boys your age are incapable of. Your moans are wanton and loud, teetering on the verge of pathetic for someone who was fighting against him at first.
“Oh, fuck,” you whimper, and your reaction makes Steve smile. “You love this, don’t you? Yeah, always knew you needed a real man to fuck this cunt.”
His thrusts are a bit quicker now, and he pulls in and out of your wet pussy roughly. The sound of skin on skin is thunderous, nearly covering up the wet noises from your stickiness. His thick cock shines from your juices. Steve ruts into you like a starved man—because he is one.
His pelvic bone hits your clit every now and then, and his swollen, heavy balls are against the curve of your ass. He’s relentless in claiming you as his, sucking, biting, and licking at the skin on your neck.
“Oh my God—Steve–” you mewl, the pleasure blooming inside you almost too much to handle.
“What’s wrong, honey? Are you gonna come again?” Steve questions with faux pity. He punctuates each word with a thrust, fat cock pushing into your tightness. “What a pathetic little slut, making such a big mess on her boss’ cock. And I’m married too. You just can’t help it, can you?” he teases, and his filthy words have you squeezing his length from the filthiness. He lets a groan out from the feeling, and he keeps the fervour going.
That elastic band inside your stomach begins to tighten, and you can feel another orgasm build up quickly. “Go ahead. Make a mess on Daddy’s dick, baby,” he urges, and as if on command, you cream around his thickness.
Your back arches off the bed, but you don’t go anywhere far with Steve’s chest keeping you pressed down. Your hardened nipples rub against the cloth of his shirt, and the added friction makes your climax all the more breathtaking. The older man pounds into your cunt vigorously.
Stars appear in your vision until you come back down. Mr. Rogers doesn’t stop fucking you, forcing you to endure the overstimulation. Even with your legs shaking, he refuses to give up. “Good girl—such a good whore for Daddy,” he praises. The tip of his cock pummels against your G-spot continuously.
Your tits bounce with each push of Steve’s cock. Sometimes, he grazes your cervix, but the mild pain dulls away when he presses chaste kisses to your face and brutalizes your g-spot. “‘S too much,” you mumble, legs involuntarily trying to close. “Nu-uh—It’s enough when I say it’s enough. Don’t worry, Daddy’s gonna fill up that pretty pussy real soon,” he says, and as if on cue, there’s a change in the way he pounds into your cunt.
His thrusts become more sloppy, but they keep the same passion and desperation that he started everything with. There’s an intensity you can’t describe because it just feels so fucking good. The hand on your neck moves and begins to caress the rest of your body. Your pulsating walls hug him, practically refusing to let go. Your skin is hot and sticky, just like his—if not more.
Wandering hands grope your body, going pliant underneath Steve. Guttural groans leave Steve’s mouth while you’re gasping endlessly. “Shit—you were made for taking this dick, sweetie. I’m gonna fill you up until you’re leaking down your thighs,” he promises, and the threat of it sounds terrific to your fucked-out mind.
“Be a good girl and soak Daddy’s cock one more time,” he orders. The blur between your previous climax and the one that takes you over now has your head spinning. You grasp the bedsheets from the overwhelming pleasure. A silent scream leaves your mouth, which Steve accompanies with a grunt followed by a string of curse words. “Fuck.”
You squeeze Steve’s length tightly, soaking him in your wetness. Electric shocks run down your spine and unto every nerve in your body. You feel like you’re floating for a split second. You’ve never come that hard—ever. It’s difficult to breathe, and Mr. Rogers is mean enough to make you take the euphoria he’s doling out.
Wetness stains the skin that surrounds where you two are filthily connected. Your ass is sticky, and some of your cream stains the trimmed hair at the base of Steve’s shaft. It’s a mess—one he intends on adding to with his semen.
His cock twitches inside your pussy, and with a final shove, he stills with his pelvis pressed against your clit. Steve’s balls clench, and he shudders as he reaches his own high. Ropes of cum spurt from the fat tip of the older man’s cock, painting your insides. The feeling makes you whimper as you’re filled to the brim with his seed.
For a few moments, Steve stays in that position, catching his breath while he recovers from his orgasm. Your eyes dance along his face, taking in the pinched yet relaxed look he dons.
Eventually, your boss resurfaces from the depths of his climax. You’re more than exhausted and have half a mind to fall asleep right then and there.
But the sound of the front door opening and closing shocks you from your stupor. Worry is written all over your features when Steve looks at you. “Aw, don’t worry, honey,” he hums, and though it may seem impossible, you can feel him get harder inside your pussy,
Whether it’s your evident fright or the thrill of getting caught, you’re not sure. Both make you dizzy.
Peggy’s notable accent slurs a call for Steve. “Think we should put on a show for her?” he jokes, grinding his cock further into your pussy.
You’re sure that no matter what you say, he won’t listen. And what will follow will be a nightmare you can’t escape.
But those thoughts ebb away when you hear your other boss curse a storm and abruptly leave, even though she hasn’t walked in on the pornographic scene that’s taking place in the guest room.
“Well, there’s always next time—if she’ll even make it,” Steve grumbles under his breath, but the words are too vague for you to dwell on them. “Think you’re up for round two, love? I wanna play with those tits while you ride my cock.”
For the nth time, your body betrays you and tells him your true desires. Either way, he still would’ve gotten what he wanted. Steve Rogers always gets what he wants.
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nastybuckybarnes · 1 year
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Comfortable
Pairing: Bucky X Reader
Summary: Bucky finds out that you’ve never climaxed during intimacy and he’s not happy about that.
Warnings: Smut, Crying during sex, Overstimulation (mental and physical), Language, Fluff, Minor Angst but not really
Word Count: 2.8K
A/n: Kinda based on life but without bucky coming in and setting things straight lol. I’ve also got the first like 5 parts of a new series written, so that’ll be coming soon hehe. anyway, I hope you guys enjoy, and I love you all very much! 
~*~
“I don’t know, Nat, I just... I guess I’m just never... I don’t know. I’m in my head a lot, I guess.”
The redhead snickers, elbowing her sister and sharing a look with her before both of their gazes return to yours.
“Barnes lacking?”
You shake your head quickly, trying to clear his name.
“No! No, God no! He just... it’s not him, it’s me. I think too much, I’m focused on making sure it’s good for him, making sure he finishes that I... I don’t know.”
Yelena purses her lips, “does he know he hasn’t made you cum yet?”
You swallow hard and shake your head, dropping your gaze to your lap.
“I... I fake it.”
The assassins exchange glances again and you huff a sigh.
“He’s good, he’s really good and he makes me feel good and I get close but... I just can’t... I can’t cum. And it’s not like it’s just him, I’ve never cum with anybody I’ve been with. I just... can’t do it. Maybe I’m broken,” you whisper that last part mostly to yourself, but both women jump in and shake their heads.
“It’s an intimate thing. You probably just want to feel one hundred percent comfortable with the person before giving that last bit of yourself to them. Orgasming with a partner for the first time is... intense. You should talk to him about it, tell him the truth and explain it. Maybe you guys need more foreplay, maybe you need to be in control more, but you’ll only figure it out by talking to him about it.”
You bite your bottom lip and shake your head at Natasha, “I don’t wanna hurt his feelings though, Nat. I just... how the hell do I gently tell him that he hasn’t made me cum and I've been faking it the whole time?”
Two sets of trained eyes dart over your shoulder just as you hear the door to your apartment shut.
Tension pulls your shoulders up and you squeeze your eyes shut, praying that he didn’t hear you.
The way the two Russians in front of you press their lips into thin lines gives you your answer, and you drop your head forward, hating the fact that this is now a conversation you need to have with your boyfriend.
“Well uh, I think we should take that as our cue to leave,” Yelena says awkwardly, pressing on a smile and offering Bucky a small wave as she rises to her feet, Natasha following after.
You stay rooted in place on the couch, refusing to even acknowledge his presence as he putters about in the kitchen, waiting until your friends leave before finally making his way into the living room.
Your eyes don’t leave your hands as he takes a seat on the floor in front of you, his hands, one cold and one warm, finding yours and squeezing gently.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to take deep breaths.
If you were to look at him, you’d see that his face is confused, not angry. Not a hint of anger could be found within him. If anything, he’s upset that you hadn’t told him before. That you didn’t feel comfortable confiding in him and telling him the truth.
The entire time he was under the impression that you were enjoying the sex and getting just as much out of it as he was.
“Why are you apologizing, sweet girl?”
You sniffle and shake your head, fear icing your veins.
You don’t want him to be mad at you and you don’t want him to feel offended.
“I just... I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head and reaches one hand up to cup your jaw, raising your head enough so that you finally, finally look into his eyes.
Your beautiful eyes are filled with tears and it makes his heart ache in his chest.
“Why the tears, honey, what’s wrong?”
You shake your head and sniffle, dropping your gaze only to raise it when he squeezes your chin.
“C’mon, sweet girl, you can talk to me. I... I don’t want you to ever be afraid to talk to me, okay? What’s got you so upset?”
You take a deep breath and squeeze his hand, trying to muster up your courage.
“I just... I don’t want to make you mad.”
He furrows his brows and shakes his head, absolutely flabbergasted at the fact that you think he’d be mad at you for being honest.
“Why would I ever be mad, baby? If you’re upset, I wanna know what I can do to make you feel better.”
You take another deep breath then slowly nod.
“I just... I know that sex is a sensitive topic for a lot of guys. Especially... their performance. And yours is great! The sex is great and I love it and you’re amazing! I just... I haven’t... ya’know. I never have with anyone else either. I’m starting to think that I can only do it by myself,” you whisper glumly, your shoulders sinking in.
Bucky is quiet for a moment. He’d already heard every word you’d spoken to Natasha and Yelena, and, he’s not gonna lie, it punches at his pride to know that his girl isn't enjoying it as much as he is. All he wants is for you to feel your best in every aspect of life.
“Well, why don’t we talk about this a bit more, huh? You said that it’s not just me, but everyone you’ve been with?”
He knows this isn’t about him, it’s about you, but he really hopes that you’re not trying to soften the blow. If other people have made you cum, he wants to know how and when and then he wants to cut their fingers off for ever touching you.
You nod, sniffling. “Yeah, I just... I don’t know if I get in my head too much or if I’m... not comfortable enough, but I just... I can’t.”
He nods slowly, trying to gather his thoughts and figure out a solution.
“What can I do to make you more comfortable, honey?”
You shake your head and push to your feet, hating every word of this conversation.
“I am comfortable with you, Buck. I just... forget I said anything, it doesn’t matter anyway.”
His long fingers wind around your wrist, stopping you from fleeing like you so desperately want to.
“It does matter, honey. It matters a lot, actually. I’m not mad and I’m not offended. I just... I want you to feel the same intimacy that I feel when we have sex. It’s... amazing. And I want you to experience it. So tell me how I can make you feel better.”
Your glossy eyes raise to his and, when you see nothing but honesty and love, you nod slowly.
“I don’t know what’s missing or what needs to happen. You’ve got me really close, but I just.. maybe I think about it too much? I don’t know.”
He cups your cheeks and presses the softest kiss to your forehead.
“You’re gonna need to direct me, baby. Next time, you’re gonna need to tell me what you like, what feels good, okay? And when you get close, you tell me and I’m gonna keep going until you actually cum, is that all right?”
You nod again.
“Okay.”
He kisses your lips gently then pulls you into a tight embrace.
“Okay.”
~*~
The next time the opportunity to be intimate arises, it’s after a small get-together at Yelena’s place.
You’ve already had a sizeable glass of wine, and now all you want is your boyfriend’s hands on your body.
He pushes open the door to your shared apartment, a grin on his lips as you pepper kisses along his jawline.
“Hey, sweetheart. You want something? Hmm?”
You nod, lips not leaving his skin as you push his jacket off of his shoulders.
“C’mere.” His metal arm dips beneath your thighs, hoisting you up, while his flesh arm wraps around your waist, keeping you held tightly against his chest as you wrap your legs around him.
He leads the two of you through the apartment and into the bedroom, laying you down gently on the bed and pulling away to pull his shirt off.
You shimmy out of your dress and toss it to the ground, leaving you only in your matching black lace set.
Bucky’s eyes devour your figure and he’s quick to shed his pants and join you on the bed, crawling between your legs and smoothing his hands over your thighs.
“How you feelin’, pretty girl? You okay?”
You nod, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as he looks at you like you’re the only woman on the planet.
And to him, you might as well be.
“You gonna let me eat you out, baby? Please?”
How could you possibly say no to that?
When you nod at him, he grins, beyond pleased, and slides his fingers beneath the fabric on your hips.
He pulls your panties down your legs and brings them up to his face, holding your gaze while taking a deep breath through his nose.
“Fuck, you smell good. Taste even better, though.” And with that, he situates himself between your thighs and flattens his tongue against you, licking you from your dripping hole up to your throbbing clit.
You sigh happily, fingers tangling through his hair as he works his tongue over your clit and dips two fingers into your heat.
“Just like that...” you whisper, your head digging into the pillows as he plays you like a fiddle.
He continues fucking his fingers into you, pausing when you give a particularly hard tug on his hair then repeating exactly what made you do that.
You can feel it slowly building, each pass of his tongue and thrust of his fingers brings you slightly closer, and you can’t help but feel your heart begin to race.
“Fuck... just like that, Bucky...”
He follows your instructions perfectly, doing exactly what makes you feel good.
He watches your face scrunch, feels your heels dig into his back and your nails scratch at his scalp and - Goddamn is this what he was missing out on? This is what you look like when you’re really about to cum?
It takes all of his self-control to not grab his phone and take a picture of you.
Your chest rises and falls more rapidly and your eyes are squeezed shut as your walls start fluttering around his fingers.
Fuck, you look gorgeous.
It’s such a strange feeling, having him bring you closer and closer to the edge. It’s so foreign yet so right and you tug at his hair and roll your hips up to his face.
“Bucky, I... I’m gonna.... oh fuck, please... I’m gonna cum, please!”
God, hearing that is like music to his ears.
He continues, bringing his free hand up to yours when you reach for it.
You interlock your fingers and grind your teeth together as your release washes over you, far more intense than anything you’ve ever been able to bring yourself.
A sound that’s half-moan half-gasp falls from your lips and you squeeze his hand harder while your walls clamp down around his fingers.
Bliss fills you, sparks flying from every nerve in your body, head to toe, and Bucky watches in awe.
He’s not sure how he believed you before when you were faking. The way you look when you cum is something he’s never going to be able to forget now.
Your body is wound so tight, your thighs clenched around his head and your nails digging into his scalp. Your walls are pulsing and clenching and, fuck, it feels incredible. He can’t wait to feel it around his cock.
He continues slowly fucking his fingers in and out of you while working his tongue over your clit, only pulling away when you tug your hips back.
He smacks his lips together and pulls away, his eyes connecting with yours.
Your chest heaves and your forehead has a light sheen of sweat on it, and you look like the Goddess you are.
“How you feel, baby?” He asks gently, smoothing his hands up your sides and rubbing his thumbs over the soft skin of your stomach.
You only nod at him, your hands coming to rest on his wrists.
“Words, baby. I need words.”
You lick your lips and take a deep breath before speaking.
“I feel good, Buck. I-I feel really good,” you whisper, eyes prickling with tears at the intensity of the moment.
He smiles lovingly down at you and leans in for a gentle kiss.
You taste yourself on his tongue and it makes the moment even more erotic.
“Gonna let me fuck you, baby?” He asks against your mouth, trailing his lips down your neck and kissing your skin gently.
You nod, sighing softly as tears trail back into your hairline.
He pulls back for a moment, just long enough to situate himself comfortably between your thighs and align himself with your entrance.
And then he’s pushing into you slowly, making you feel every single inch of it.
Your mouth drops open and your legs wind around his hips, pulling him even deeper than before. He’s pressing against every sensitive spot inside you and it feels heavenly.
“Fuck, you feel good, baby. Feel so good... God... nice n’ tight... wet... shit you’re like heaven.” He rasps the words against your throat, lips trailing up over your skin to rest on yours for a quick moment before he pulls back to gaze into your eyes.
“I love you, pretty girl. I really do.”
Your heart swells and you lean up to kiss him, gasping against his lips when he pulls his hips back and slams them forward.
He starts a steady pace, smoothing one of his hands over yours and interlocking your fingers.
“I wanna feel you cum for me again. Wanna feel it on my cock, baby. God, you look so pretty when you cum. Wanna take a picture of it and frame it, I swear.”
You squeeze your eyes shut and whine softly, arching your back and groaning when he hits deeper inside of you at the new angle.
“Right there... oh fuck, please...”
He buries his head in your neck, peppering the skin there with kisses while his free hand travels between your bodies to find your clit.
He circles the bundle of nerves with expert precision, lifting his lips to yours to swallow your moans.
You’re barely kissing. No, it’s more of just breathing each other’s breaths and moaning in each other’s mouths, but the intimacy is unmatched and the passion is flaming through your soul.
You wind your free arm around his shoulders, pulling him down to press more of his weight against you, and you can’t help but feel more secure and more comfortable.
“I... Bucky... I’m gonna... oh fuck.”
He nods, showering your face in kisses.
“Cum for me, honey. C’mon, please. I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”
You can’t very well deny him when he’s asking you so nicely.
His fingers move against your clit faster and faster while his hips continue grinding into yours firmly, making your toes curl and your back arch further.
Your chest presses against his and you rake your nails against his back so hard you're sure you’re drawing blood, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.
Not when you’re falling headfirst into the most intense and powerful climax of your life.
Your vision goes white and your ears start to ring, and all you can do is squeeze around him.
Your legs tighten around his waist, your nails dig into his flesh, and your walls clamp down around his cock as fireworks erupt in your belly.
Bucky fucks you through it, keeping his pace steady as you tremble and convulse beneath him, your mouth open as soft whines fall from it.
God, the feeling of you, all hot and tight and wet around him... he’s ready to die happily now that he’s gotten to truly experience the glory that is having you cum around him.
His pride swells and he can't help the way his ego inflates when he pulls his head back to look at your pretty face.
He did that.
He made you feel that good.
He’s the only man, no, the only person in the world besides yourself that’s ever made you cum. And he’s going to be the only one.
And now that he knows how to do it, now that he's gotten you there with his mouth and his cock, he’s never going to get enough of it. He’s gotta make up for lost time, doesn't he?
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While we’re on the subject on inclusivity:
Inclusivity in your mood boards is just as important as inclusivity in the fic itself. Please try to include poc and curvy images in your mood boards as well! Please!
Your moodboard is the introduction to your story and sets the mood and the vibe. When you only have skinny white girls in your moodboards, you’re communicating a message that’s all who you thought of while writing and that’s the only type who is attractive and desirable to the characters. Poc deserve to feel seen too and feel like they were thought of while writing. Especially so when you’re writing for characters of color!
You don’t even have to use *only* poc or curvy pictures for your mood boards. Including different skin tones to show that you made the effort is much appreciated. You could also use shadow images or fully blacked out silhouettes to hide the skin tone altogether. There are plenty of resources and images out there that you should be able to find more than just skinny white girls. I know is it takes a little extra digging but it’s very much worth it to show inclusivity!
I know Pinterest is the bane of image finding, but it can be a good resource to find poc images. Just search (whatever aesthetic you’re looking for) + dark skin or person of color or something similar and you’ll find plenty of images. And the more you save the more images will show up in your feed. I constantly collect images to have references later when I need them.
Unsplash is another good resource to find poc models and images. And there’s also models of color pages right here on tumblr! There are resources out there it just takes a little effort to find the right images!
And as an ending note: using only skinny white girls in your mood board and then putting a disclaimer like “images do not represent reader they’re just fitting the aesthetic” isn’t the work around you think it is. I understand it’s not done in purpose and you most likely don’t realize it, but saying that says poc don’t fit your aesthetic and it’s still alienating and hurtful. Just something to keep in mind.
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citronbun · 3 months
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A jolly holiday with the supersoldiers ! ∩^ω^∩🌿🍒
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| #citronsfanart | Twitter |
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weyirn · 10 months
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Marvel men with a bf that's bigger and taller than them and likes to carry them in a bridal style or likes to pick them up randomly
Marvel x Male!Reader
Taller/Bigger Boyfriend That Likes Picking Them Up
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☆Steve becomes flustered at first, and it takes him a little while to get used to it (not that he doesn't enjoy it or anything). Nowadays, he just relaxes in your arms, liking to be vulnerable and letting go once in a while. It shows how much he trusts you, allowing you to show this side of him. But picking him up randomly will result in him scolding you.
❄️Bucky likes it way more than he thinks he should...At first, he was surprised by it and stiffened up in your arms, but slowly relaxed and leaned into your chest, because he knows he can be vulnerable with you. He feels safe with you. But when it comes to being picked up randomly, he doesn't enjoy it. He would rather have a heads up before you do it instead.
💲Secretly fanboying Tony doesn't admit that he enjoys it and makes snark comments about it, but then he starts to complain when you would put him down. It's fun to use this to your advantage and tease him about much he likes being carried by you, watching him roll his eyes and get flustered by it.
🕸Peter blushes and shyly clings to you, not wanting you to put him down. He feels a little secure being in your arms. There are times where he just wants to be in your arms, so he'll just sit in your lap and you'll have your arms wrapped around him. Just anything to feel your touch.
⌲If you're randomly picking him up, Sam would kind of take it as a challenge, as he would try and catch you right before you can put your hands on him. If he fails to catch you, then he'll be like, "you're not going to put me down anytime soon, aren't you?"
🐜Scott feels his heart flutter whenever you pick him up, and immediately clings to you. Sometimes, he holds his arms in the air, hinting that you should pick him up and carry him. He will have fun if you pick him up randomly, being both surprised but also laughing it off.
💚The only time Bruce will let you pick him up is when he's exhausted and you're carrying him to bed. He doesn't feel comfortable being picked up randomly (cuz it might make his nerves bad).
⚡️Thor is...actually surprised that you can pick him up, but that doesn't mean it's not a pleasant surprise for him. He's always clinging to you and smiling, liking how easy it is for you to carry him. He'll always laugh along with you when you would pick him up randomly, enjoying the pleasant surprise.
🐍It always makes Loki grumpy that you pick him up; he thinks you're doing it to tease him, or to rub it in his face of how bigger and stronger you are of him. He will never admit that he may enjoy it, considering the fact that he doesn't even try to get out of your arms when you hold him.
🖤Eddie actually thinks this is much better than him walking on his own (and Venom telling him how much of a slow walker he is). He just doesn't let you do it in public unless he's exhausted. But you're not picking up Venom any time soon (cuz he won't let you, and he's way bigger than you anyway, lol).
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krirebr · 4 months
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More Than This 1
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Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader
Word Count: ~4.1k
Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.
Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, a very brief conversation about the possibility of abuse, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Masterlist
A/N: And here we go! A huge thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me nail down some of the worldbuilding details and @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and especially telling me how to fix the scene that refused to be fixed. You're both the best!!
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
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It was uncommon to be called to your stepfather’s office. The high rise on the edge of Studio City had housed the heads of his family since the silent film era, give or take a remodel and expansion or five. You’d only been here a handful of times, mostly left out of the family business. When his assistant opened the door for you, you were surprised to see a small group of people, all in expensive business attire, surrounding your stepdad, Joseph Rogers, at his desk. Even more surprising was the figure standing in the corner, staring out the window – your mother. 
“Mom?” you asked, unable to hide your confusion. She just gave you a tight smile in return and turned her attention to her husband.
“Sweetheart,” he called to you. It’s what he’d called you since you’d first met him as a child and it had always felt patronizing and empty. You were well aware that you were an annoyance he’d been saddled with when he’d married your mother for her late first husband’s connections. Eighteen years later, you wished he’d drop the pretense already. “Please, have a seat,” he gestured to the leather chair in front of his large oak desk. 
You sat down across from him. “What’s going on?” you asked, an uneasy feeling building in your gut.
“Congratulations are in order,” he said, smiling at you. “You’re engaged.”
Years of experience at bullshit industry and society parties had you pasting on a benign smile. This was your fourth, no fifth engagement, the first one dating all the way back to when you were 10. They’d all dissolved for one reason or another, the business arrangements at the heart of them disintegrating too. But looking around the room at all the extra people in attendance, you knew better than to dismiss this outright. You were older now. Many of your friends from school had found themselves married as part of business deals in the last few years. Love matches were uncommon in the circles you frequented. There wasn’t much patience for love when this much money was at stake. But still, just because it was expected, that didn’t make you any more ready for your turn. 
“That’s wonderful,” you said, putting all your effort into keeping your tone even. “May I ask whom I’m engaged to?” 
“Ransom Drysdale,” Joseph said. “He’s the grandson of Harlan Thrombey, the mystery writer. We’ve been trying to secure the movie rights to his works for years and this should finally cement it. It’s fantastic news for our family and this studio. The joining of our families should create many opportunities for all of us. Ransom is one of the most eligible bachelors in Boston. You should feel very lucky.”
Lucky was the last thing you felt right now, but you kept your face schooled as you ran through your mental Rolodex to try to figure out if you had any social connections to this man. The fact that he lived on the other side of the country made it less likely but not impossible. 
“So,” he continued, sliding a stack of papers across his desk to you, “all you need to do is sign and initial the contract where it’s marked, and we can get started finalizing the details for the wedding next month.”
At that, all your poise disappeared and the smile dropped off your face. “Next month?”
Joseph nodded. “It’s important to strike while the iron is hot with deals like this. So go ahead and sign so that we can all move on to the next stage.”
Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. This was happening. This one was real. “Shouldn’t I read it first?” you asked, somewhat desperately.
He shook his head, “No need,” he said, gesturing to the man you recognized as one of the family lawyers standing beside him. “Julian has already gone through it with a fine-toothed comb. All of our interests are well represented. It’s all in legalese anyway. Impossible to understand if you aren’t a lawyer.” He chuckled and many of the people standing around the desk, staring at you, joined him. 
“I just–” you stammered. You didn’t know what to do, but you knew you couldn’t pick up that pen.
Irritation bloomed on your stepfather’s face. “Lydia!” he called. 
Your mother stopped staring out the window and stepped up to your chair. “Honey,” she said gently, putting her hand on your back. “This will be such a good thing. And then we can get to all the fun parts of planning the wedding!” She picked up the pen and held it out to you. You took a moment to look at her. Her features were drawn and her eyes looked exhausted. She’d looked that way as long as you could remember. It did nothing to reassure you. 
You glanced at the door behind you. You knew you weren’t getting out of this room without signing the contract. You took a deep breath and took the pen from your mother. There was nothing else to do. No other choice. You quickly flipped through the papers, initialing where indicated and signing the last page. Your hand was shaking so badly you weren’t sure any of it was legible.
When you turned over the last page, Joseph clapped his hands together. “Excellent!” He took a large binder off the desk and passed it over to you. “We’ve put some information together for you on your new fiance. Ransom will be in town next week to take you to dinner so that the two of you can get to know each other. Now, I’m sure you want to go celebrate, so we won’t keep you any longer.”
At the clear dismissal, you stood up. Many people in the room offered their congratulations and you nodded to them, forcing a strained smile. Then you made your way out on shaky legs, needing to see the one person who might be able to help you process what had just happened.
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You’d been six years old when you and your mother had moved into the Rogers mansion. You were terrified, already able to sense Joseph’s indifference towards you. But your comfort during that time, and all the time after, had been his son, Steve. Twelve years old, still reeling from the death of his mother and just as deeply lonely as you, he’d named himself your protector, shielding you from his father’s annoyance and your mother’s sorrow. He guarded you from monsters when you woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and would stare down your bullies on the playground. You were very quickly inseparable. 
When you became engaged the first time when you were ten, sixteen-year-old Steve had taken you out for ice cream, telling you not to worry too much, there was so much time before anything would happen and that everything would be ok. When the arrangement had fallen apart, he’d hugged you and whispered in your ear, “See? I’m always right.”
That was the memory you couldn’t stop thinking about as you let yourself into your stepbrother’s apartment, using the key he’d given you on the day he’d moved in. He wasn’t in his front room, so you moved all the way to the back, to the spare room he used as an art studio. You lightly knocked on the doorframe as you entered, trying not to startle him. He was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at a half-finished painting, but looked over his shoulder as soon as he heard you. There was a warm smile on his face, but it dropped as soon as he took in your expression. “What happened?” he asked as you flopped down onto his couch.
“I think I might be really fucked, Steve,” you said quietly, your hands still shaking. You couldn’t get them to stop.
“What happened?” he asked again, more forcefully this time, as he dragged a chair from the corner of the room so that he could sit right across from you.
“Your dad, he–” You stopped and shook your head. Steve’s face darkened. “I’m engaged,” you said with a helpless shrug.
“Okay,” he said evenly. “That might not be the most dire thing. You’ve been engaged before. Nothing ever comes of it.”
You sighed. “They’ve set a date this time.”
“Oh,” was all he could say at first, surprise on his face. “That’s new.”
“Yeah.” you nodded. “A month from now.”
That had Steve sitting up straight. “The hell?!”
“It’s happening this time. I can feel it.”
“Hey, no,” he said, reaching out to touch your arm. “Let me try to talk some sense into him. Buy you some time. He might listen to me.”
You shook your head. “Everything’s already signed. They made me sign. I don’t think there’s any getting out of it.”
“He give you a name?”
“Ransom Drysdale.”
Before he was able to stop himself, Steve grimaced.
“Fuck,” you muttered, briefly covering your face with your hands.
“No, it’s– I’ve only met him once or twice, ok? I don’t actually know anything about him.”
“But you don’t like him.”
“He’s–” Steve paused, clearly trying to find the words that wouldn’t upset you even more, “a strong personality.” He looked at you carefully. “And he’s older than you. Older than me, even.”
“I know,” you sighed, reaching for your bag and taking out the folder. “They gave me this.”
You handed it to Steve and he paged through it. “This is intense. Do you think they gave him one about you?”
You shrugged. “Dunno. Probably. Can’t imagine it says anything interesting.”  
Steve nodded, seriously. “It’s probably pretty thin. Just the story of that time you completely freaked out when you weren’t allowed to bring Mr. BunBun to school with you.”
You grabbed the pillow next to you and hurled it at him. “You’re such a dick!” you laughed. “I’m very upset!”
He batted the pillow back at you and cackled when it hit you in the chest. “He deserves to know the kind of person he’s marrying. The kind who throws a five-alarm tantrum when she’s separated from her stuffed bunny.”
“I was eight, asshole!” You laughed again but then your brain caught on something Steve had said. “Holy shit, he’s marrying me. I’m getting married. I don’t know anything about him. He could be anyone. You don’t even like him! He could hurt me and–” 
“Hey, no!” Steve interrupted quickly. “I might not know much, but I know that. He won’t do that. I’m sure of it. And if he ever even tried, I’d be there so fast. They’d never find his body.”
“Will he be kind to me?” you asked quietly. He opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him. “Be honest with me. Please.”
He sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Well,” you said, trying so hard not to cry, “I guess at least now we know exactly how your dad feels about me.”
Steve closed his eyes and quietly said your name. When he opened them, there was a resolved look on his face that was painfully familiar. His ‘I’m going to fix this’ face. He was intractable when he got like this. He set his jaw. “I’m going to talk to Dad.”
You shook your head. “Steve.” Your stepfather was just as intractable as his son. This would only result in a shouting match that wouldn’t go anywhere.
“It’s going to be alright,” he said resolutely.
All you could do was say “OK,” with a wan smile, knowing it was a lie. You lay down on the couch and curled up on your side. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”
“Of course not. Lola good on her own for a while?”
You nodded. Your little dog was probably asleep in her kennel. “Yeah, for a while.”
“Do you mind if I keep working on this?” he asked, gesturing to his painting.
“I like watching you paint,” you said, trying to find comfort in the familiarity of something you’d done since you were small.
He stood up and turned back to his easel, and you did your best to focus on watching him paint and not think about how, if this went through, you’d have to move to Boston and you wouldn’t get to have this time with your brother anymore.
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As expected, Steve’s talk with Joseph yielded no results when it came to your future. The only thing it seemed to have any effect on was their own relationship, Steve announcing to you that he was no longer speaking to his father the next time you saw him. You hadn’t expected anything else.
For your part, you spent the next week vacillating between going overboard preparing for your first meeting with Ransom—pouring over your folder on him, making salon appointments, shopping for a dress that would make the right impression—and pretending your problems didn’t exist. As such, the day of the dinner still snuck up on you. You were a nervous wreck. 
The plan was for him to pick you up at your apartment, but an hour before he was supposed to arrive, you got a text from an unfamiliar number telling you to meet him at the restaurant instead. 
So now you sat at the table, alone, in a new dress with your hair done. You’d arrived ten minutes early, and he was now 20 minutes late. You took a deep breath, staring at the empty seat across from you. He would show up. He had to. 
Another ten minutes passed and, as you waived off the server for a third time, you let yourself consider what it would mean if your future husband had stood you up. You should go. It’d be pathetic to stay. And even if he did show up after you’d gone, it’d make a point. Show you had a backbone. You should definitely go.
Just as your hand began to inch toward your handbag on the table, the hostess came through, leading a tall, handsome man to your table. She stopped beside you and then ducked away. The man looked at you critically. He said your name like a question and, when you nodded, he sat down. He didn’t introduce himself, but he could only be Ransom. 
He was dressed nicely in an expensive sweater and slacks, but much more casually than you were and looking around the restaurant than most of the other people there, too. And when he sat down, you could see the places in his sweater where it was threadbare or torn. You tried very hard to not take it as a sign of how he felt about this dinner, felt about you.
You cleared your throat to say something, you weren’t entirely sure what when he glanced at your glass of water. “You don’t drink?”
“No, I do,” you said, but when he smirked you realized how that sounded. “I can,” you amended, but that sounded odd too. “I mean, I don’t have anything against it. I was just waiting for you.”
He snorted. “Well, aren’t you polite?”  His tone made it feel like the worst thing you could possibly be. He flagged down the server and ordered a glass of the Macallan 18, then huffed impatiently while you asked questions about their wine selection. You didn’t know how he could be half an hour late and make you feel bad for taking your time ordering. 
Once you’d finally made your choice and the server left, you tried not to squirm as he gave you a once-over with his eyes. You felt disappointing without really knowing why. You tried to shrug off the feeling, but then Ransom said, “How old even are you?” with scorn in his voice.
You cleared your throat. “Twenty-four,” you tried to say with confidence.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
You did your best not to shrink in on yourself. Maybe he was just nervous too. It was a weird situation. But, “Didn’t they tell you about me?”
He snorted again and rolled his eyes. “Gave me a whole binder. I never opened it.”
You looked down at your empty place setting, embarrassed. You’d studied every inch of what they’d given you, hoping to show him how seriously you were taking this and he couldn’t care less. “Oh,” was all you were able to say. 
He grinned a little meanly. “You got one too, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve memorized facts about me that you were ready to rattle off to impress me.”
“No,” you growled out. You weren’t going to let him make you feel small just for trying to show interest in the person you were going to have to spend the rest of your life with.
He swiped one hand over his mouth and chin. “My god,” he muttered, “this whole thing is fucking ridiculous.”
The waitress came back and set down your drinks. Ransom immediately took a large gulp of his scotch. You itched to do the same, but you suddenly felt like proving a point. Even if you weren’t entirely sure what that point was. 
You were ready to order, but Ransom hadn’t glanced at his menu yet. Just as you were about to ask for a few more minutes, he said, “Go ahead and bring me another one of these right away,” and gestured with his drink in dismissal. She nodded and left.
Fuck it, you let yourself take a large drink of your wine. “Do you know what you’re going to have?” you asked, nodding to his menu.
He shook his head. “I have dinner plans after this.”
Heat shot through your whole body. “I thought these were the dinner plans.”
He rolled his eyes again. “Getting a head start on the nagging?” he asked, dryly. “Wow, it’s like we’re already married.”
You opened your mouth to do something, you weren’t sure what. Everything in your mind had gone white. But once again, Ransom beat you to it. “Alright, let’s get this done. You’re moving into my house. Fine. But I already have everything we need, so I expect you to pack light. I don’t need your shit cluttering up everything.”
You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know how to have a conversation with him. Someone who left no room for you and seemed not to care at all about anything you had to say. And then there was the voice in your head that kept shouting about how incredibly important this dinner was to the rest of your life. And now it wasn’t even dinner. So when you opened your mouth to speak, what came out was, “I have a dog.”
He stared at you for a moment, seemingly surprised that you’d spoken at all. “What? No. Absolutely not. You’ll have to get rid of it. I hate dogs.”
You didn’t even bother to try to think through the static in your head. “She’s coming with me. I don’t care what else happens, I’m fucking bringing my dog.”
Ransom just narrowed his eyes and stared at you for a moment, then, “Fine. Just keep it away from me. And if it destroys my house, you’re getting rid of it. I’m serious.”  
“She won’t,” you said, as sure of that as anything. “She’s a good girl.”
“Whatever,” he said, as the server returned with his second drink. He slid his empty glass to the end of the table, then said, “The bill,” without looking at her. As she took his empty away, he continued to you, “I don’t know why you want to deal with a dog and a baby, but…” he shrugged.
You just blinked at him, trying to catch up with the massive leap he’d just taken. “Baby? What? Who said anything about a baby?”
He laughed, loudly. “Oh my god, they didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?” you asked, harshly, panic starting to build up in your chest. 
“Of course, they fucking left that to me. There’s a clause in the contract,” he said, “requiring you to get pregnant with my child within the first year.”
You stared over his shoulder, you couldn't look him in the eye, horrified and speechless. You couldn’t breathe. How were you supposed to breathe?
“You seriously didn’t read your own marriage contract?” The judgment in his tone had you shrinking in on yourself. You couldn’t help it.
“They didn’t give me any time,” you said, quietly. “They just made me sign it.”
“And you always do what you’re told, don’t you? Yeah, you look like a good girl.” He said it the same way he’d called you polite when he’d first sat down with you. Like it made you weak. Stupid. You’d never thought so before, but now you wondered if he was right.
“Fuck,” you whispered.
He chuckled humorlessly. “We agree on that,” he said. “This whole thing is fucked.”
At some point, without your notice, the server had returned with Ransom’s card and the receipt. He signed it quickly, then stood up. “Listen, now, at least, we can go back to our parents, tell them we met, chatted, got to know each other. Everything is hunky dory. And then do whatever we want for the next three weeks. Right now, I’m going to try to salvage my night. You go do,” he gestured vaguely at you, “whatever you need to do. I’ll see you at the wedding.”
And then he was gone and you were alone.
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You sat in the back seat of the car on the way back to your apartment, running over every moment of your evening. You kept thinking about the way he’d looked at you, talked to you. A baby. You were supposed to have a baby with him. A child that you’d have to raise. By yourself, judging by how invested in all this he seemed to be. Forty, fifty years of him looking at you like that, talking to you like that. And a baby. You leaned forward and asked the driver to take you to your parents’ house instead. 
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Once you arrived, you said you needed to speak to your stepfather urgently and were shown to his study. You stood in the middle of the room, too anxious to sit down, and waited. Everyone was making you wait tonight. 
Several minutes later, Joseph finally came in. “We weren’t expecting you tonight,” he said. “How did it go?”
You ignored his question, which you guessed was an answer in itself. “Please don’t make me do this,” you pleaded. 
“Sweetheart,” he sighed, disappointed, and moved over to his bar, pouring himself two fingers of decanted whiskey. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“It was. It was awful. He’s– I can’t do this. Please, please don’t make me.” Your voice broke, but you couldn’t be embarrassed about it, not when you were staring down an entire lifetime with him. 
“Everyone gets nervous before their wedding. You’ll be fine. This is important. To all of us.”
“It’s not nerves!” You were close to shouting, suddenly. “You weren’t there. You don’t know. There have to be other families we need things from. It doesn’t have to be this family, does it? It doesn’t have to be right now. Please, please, anything else. I’m begging you, don’t make me marry him, have a child with him.”
He chuckled lightly. “Oh, that’s what this is about. It won’t feel as scary once the baby is here. You’ll make an excellent mother.”
You just stared at him, agape. He wasn’t listening to anything you had to say. “How could you not tell me that was part of the contract? I deserved to know. I wouldn’t have signed!”
His face hardened at that. “You were naive to not expect it. Of course, children are part of this. I admit that the timing is a little fast, but Harlan insisted.”
“Joseph, please listen to me. I can’t. I can’t. Please. If you care about me at all, you won’t make me do this.”
“You’re being ridiculous. It’s done. Everything’s signed. You signed. Now,” he said and took a drink, “it’s getting late. It’s high time you went home. Hopefully, you’ll be able to calm yourself down there.” And then he left the room, ignoring you as your whole world fell apart.
As you left, you passed your mother in the hall. Neither of you said anything.
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When you got home, Steve was waiting for you, having already let himself in, holding Lola in one arm. “How did it go?” he asked seriously. You shook your head and finally let the tears fall. He pulled you into his arms, smushing you against your dog, and gently guided you into your home.
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Part Two
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gogogodzilla · 6 months
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day 10, breeding kink
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steve rogers x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, creampie (obvi), oral, fingering, mentions of pregnancy, from steve's pov kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3
Steve wouldn’t admit it, but he was a family man at heart. He always dreamed of finding a nice girl and settling down somewhere. When he woke up nearly 70 years in the future, he’d accepted that he’d never get the life he had planned for himself. 
And then you came along. You were a firecracker, to put it mildly. You were intelligent without being arrogant, you were funny without being obnoxious, and you were beautiful but not vain. You were the entire package, and Steve fell hopelessly in love with you. 
It was rare you got a moment alone at the Avengers Tower. Either of you were always jetting off to this mission or that one, or Nat was requesting girl time and Sam was asking to train. 
It made the moments you did get together much more worthwhile. Every cloud, right? 
You only had 20 minutes before your team dinner and movie night, so Steve had to work fast. He started with his head immersed between your thighs. He circled your clit with his tongue as he held your hips in place. Your thighs clenched around his head as he dipped his tongue into your entrance and fucked you with his tongue. When you began to beg for more he slipped one and then two fingers inside you. He pumped them languidly as he latched onto your clit once again. By minute five, he had you clenching around his fingers as your orgasm washed over you. 
He let you catch your breath as he undid his belt, your soft pants mixing with the clinking of his belt buckle. He released himself from the tight confines of his jeans, already painfully hard. He could’ve come in his pants just tasting you, but he had a goal tonight. He stroked himself a few times, his breath catching as he slid a thumb over the angry red head of his cock. You reached out, wanting to touch him, possibly taste him. He grabbed both of your arms and pinned them above your head with one hand and you whined in protest. 
He slid his cock through your dripping folds and pressed a kiss to your cheek, a silent promise that he’d make it up to you. You arched against his touch, and opened your legs further, beckoning him in. He enjoyed teasing you as he gathered your slick on the head of his cock, but you were beginning to squirm against him and he was getting impatient. 
He inched inside you, barely meeting any resistance as your greedy hole swallowed his cock. Your walls fluttered around him, and he didn’t know how long he’d be able to last. 
Slowly, he rocked his hips against yours. You let out a high-pitched mewl as he gradually picked up his pace, stretching you in a way that had your toes curling and back arching against him. 
He released your hands and grabbed your thighs, no doubt leaving fingerprint-shaped bruises in his wake. You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him in impossibly deeper. 
He fondled your breasts that would soon be filled with sustenance for your future child. He couldn’t wait to see you with a round belly holding his child. He placed a palm on your stomach as he rutted into you, imagining what it’d look like in a few months' time. He knew that maybe it wouldn’t take the first time. He’d pump you full of his seed as many times as it took. 
He rolled one of your nipples through his index and thumb fingers, earning a moan from you. His other hand drifted downward and circled your clit. You clenched around him; you were close and so was he. 
His thrusts were getting sloppier as that familiar coil tightened in his belly. He took your other nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue around the sensitive bud. You screamed his name as you came hard around his cock. With a final, deep thrust he was following you off the edge. He rutted deeply inside you, allowing his hot white seed to paint your walls. After he had stilled with you, he pulled out, cock twitching as he watched his cum drip out of your leaking entrance. You moaned as he pushed it back inside you with his fingers; he didn’t want to waste a single drop. 
You’d try again later that night. Maybe he’d take you while everyone was watching the movie. You’d bite back soft moans as you sat on his lap and took him from behind. Maybe he’d take you after dinner in the bathroom just off the dining room. He’d bend you over the sink and have his way with you. Maybe he’d take you again after he saw his cum dripping down your thighs. 
The possibilities for the night were endless, and the thought brought a smile to Steve’s face. Maybe he’d get the future he dreamed of after all.
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ellephlox · 2 months
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I was thinking about how I wish there was a psychology course for why "x reader" stories are so addictive and then it made me wonder if there ARE any patterns to those of us who read/write reader-insert fan fic. I've personally never been in a relationship (I've tried dating, but it hasn't worked out for me) and I'm wondering if this is typical for reader-insert folks out there.
(Also please share this so we get as much data as possible!!)
Unfortunately there's not a good control group to compare this data to, aside from general relationship demographics; it'll be hard to pin down since obviously everyone's nationality, age, gender, etc is anonymous.
Still - hopefully this will be interesting!
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To Know Him Is To Love Him
summary: to know steve rogers is to love him. to know him is to keep handing over your heart over and over again. to know him is to be broken by him.
pairing: steve rogers x reader
an: quick someone give this to a boy to read and ask him what steve did wrong. it's for science.
Anon's 1K Celebration
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to know him is to love him.
to know him is to stand by him.
to know him is to allow him to break your heart over and over again.
to know him to to hope that one day he'll finally see.
to know him is to be broken by him.
you can't count how many times he put you here, put in this situation. and worse, you can't count how many times you've let him put you in this situation.
three months ago...
you fix steve's tie, patting his shoulder to send him off on yet another date - after he invited himself into your apartment to get him ready for his date. you hated this feeling, the feeling of unrequited love.
you can't blame him, he doesn't know. at least, you think he doesn't know. in fact, you're sure he doesn't, he would never hurt you like that.
"i swear if this date doesn't go well, i'm swearing off women for good."
"does that mean i'm out a friend?" you tease.
"no, of course not," steve laughs. "you're my best friend. you don't count."
your smile falls at the words fall out of his mouth with ease. you don't count. you're not even a consideration. "i don't count as a woman?"
"you know what i meant. you're my friend."
you don't know what he meant. not in the slightest.
"right," you clear your throat, shaking your head with furrowed brows. "good luck on your date."
two months ago...
"i would tell him, but he's just - he's confusing," you admit. "i get a lot of mixed signals."
"men are just idiots," nat offers in consolation. "someday, he'll see. you're perfect for each other."
"thanks." you smile, walking back to your table with a fresh round of drinks. "what are you guys talking about?"
"about steve's terrible dating record," sam jokes.
"ah," you hum, you settle in the booth beside him, leaving plenty of room between the two of you.
steve frowns at you, reaching behind you and gripping your waist. without a word, he slides you until you're pressed against his thigh.
sam humorously snorts, "i don't get you two. you're attached at the hip. you're both attractive singles. make it official already."
you look to steve's reaction for any indication of what he's feeling. steve leans over, kissing your temple, "she knows she's my other half, my soulmate. we don't need labels."
"soulmate?" sam teases.
you shift uncomfortably. he never asked you that, never asked you if you wanted a label. he's never even asked you on a real date, but now he's declaring that he's your soulmate.
how blind can he be?
one month ago...
"please, i miss you, sweetheart." you squeeze your eyes shut. the term of endearment rolls so easily off his tongue. "i feel like i haven't seen you in forever."
it's intentional. you're trying to get over him. to move past these feelings. he doesn't make it easy. "i know, i've just been busy."
"how about dinner tonight? my place at 8?"
you chew on the inside of your cheek, hesitant to accept his dinner invite, "i don't know, steve."
"please, i need you."
putting distance between you and steve rogers didn't work. not when he so dutifully sought you out. not when he told you over and over again that he missed you. that he didn't know how to be without you.
his words toy with your head just enough to convince that it's a good idea to enter his gravitational orbit again.
you're not strong enough to resist the pull. you're not strong enough to to say no. you never have been.
you decide that you can't do this. you're going to tell him. you'll tell him. you'll tell him that you want to count. you'll tell him that you want him to see you.
to know him is to love him, you remember. the moment you see him, you crumble. that smile that makes it feel like your life is worthwhile. the eyes that send your rational mind into a haze. to know him is to love him.
he doesn't make it easy for you or your heart. he greets you at the door with a beaming grin, his eyes lighting up. it makes you feel like this is more than just a dinner. it feels like you're finally coming home to him.
you falter as his fingers graze your skin to take off your jacket. the apartment isn't his usual scene either. it feels like so much more than just a normal hangout. it feels... romantic. music spinning on his record player, marvin gaye, you recognize. candles lit in the center of the table. the smell of a home cooked meal simmering over the stove.
you turn to him with a nervous smile, "i thought you we were ordering pizza or something."
"i wanted to do something nice for my best girl."
his best girl.
he spends the whole dinner fawning over you. his hand rests on your leg. the other occasionally grazing the back of your hand. he asks you all about your work, about your love life.
"i missed you so much."
you're so entranced by him that your carefully thought out speech is gone, replaced by a soft whisper, "i love you."
"i love you, too." he smiles down at him. his eyes shining bright and blue. it doesn't even occur to him that you're professing your love for him. "i can't imagine my life without you."
you shake your head, reminding yourself that you had to tell him. you needed to move forward, one way or another. "no, steve, i - i'm in love with you."
an anxious chuckle leaves his mouth. his hand drops from your thigh, leaving you feeling cold, hollow, and abandoned. "what?"
you know a rejection when you see one. at least you can move on now. your heart can begin to heal. maybe in time, you could be friends again. "i just had to tell you. just once."
"i don't -" he licks his lips. "i'm sorry, i don't feel the same."
"i understand."
2 weeks ago...
you sigh at yourself, hearing the familiar ding of another voicemail on your phone.
each one chips away at your resolve, each one shatters your broken heart even more.
you told him you understood. you told him that it was okay. you spent the night consoling him. you soothed his fears that he would lose you.
in return, he made you promise to always be in his life. with a broken heart and wounded pride, you weren't strong enough to say no. you simply asked for time and a little space.
time and space that steve had no interest in giving you.
you made it easy for him. you retreated from mutual friends. from social spaces you occupied. you no longer texted or called first. you just needed time.
still, he sought you out.
you've gained enough strength to stop answering his every call and text. you've stuck to your boundaries, at least, the ones steve doesn't seem intent on steamrolling past.
you clutch your kitchen counter with your head hung low. with a couple deep breaths and reminders that he doesn't feel the same for you, you're slowly glad you didn't answer. you're proud of yourself for being strong and doing what's best for you.
at least, you're glad until there's a banging at your door.
your mending heart regrets the moment you answer.
"steve?"
"you weren't answering," he pants, clutching the frame of your doorway, "i wanted to hear your voice."
"steve..." you sputter. "this isn't - it's-"
"i just miss you," he cuts you off. he looks so heartbroken, so sincere. he misses you. you try to not make anything more of it, but then he says it again, "i miss you so much."
you stand to the side, allowing him to pass, "come in."
"thank you," he sighs in relief.
"what happened?"
"the worst date of my life."
you swear you can feel your heart fracturing. the air feels like its being squeezed out of your lungs.
and still, you stand before him trying to look as unaffected as possible. you don't know how effective it is. you don't think he sees you enough to notice either way. "you were on a date?"
"it was awful. she was vapid and boring and - and pretentious - and - and she wasn't you."
you suck in a breath, "steve..."
these were words from a man who did not love you, from a man that did not count you. they sounded an awful lot like the love he claimed he didn't feel.
suddenly, he cups your face, standing too close to you. this wasn't what friends did. this isn't how friends treated each other. you know that.
and then he kisses you. soft and tenderly. his lips mold against yours perfectly. you swear it's a sigh of relief that leaves his mouth when you don't pull away.
you smile against his lips. a sense of rightness overtakes you. he overwhelms you. he consumes you. he grips your waist tightly. the other hand caressing your cheek.
"steve.." you sigh against his lips.
and he freezes. his hands drop as though you burned him. his lips slightly swollen and shining from the kiss. he wipes his mouth, "i should go."
you shake your head. you don't want to believe that this is happening right now. this is steve. the person you loved with every fiber of your being. your friend. you trusted him. you believed in him. he wouldn't hurt you like that. even if he didn't love you, even as just a friend, he wouldn't take advantage of your love for him like that. "what?"
"i should go."
and he leaves without another word.
your heart isn't just broken anymore, it's crumbled into a million little pieces. you're not sure you'll ever be able to fix it.
1 week ago...
he's blown past all your defenses. he's drained every ounce of strength from you. he's taken everything except your broken heart and your love for him. that's all that's left of you.
to know him is to love him. to know him is to be broken by him.
he calls and this time, you answer. you fear him coming back to your apartment like he did before. your heart couldn't take it anymore.
"hi, steve." your voice is so gravelly and hollow, a shell of the fullness and life it used to contain.
you noticed everything about him. his likes, his dislikes. you could tell the day he was having by the way he said hi, by the sort of smile he gave you. you're not sure why you just realized that it's not reciprocated at all. he once told you he loved the sound of your voice, how could he not hear the broken tone? if he notices, which you're sure he doesn't, he doesn't ask.
you can hear the smile in his voice, "i'm so glad you answered."
you're not even sure that he realizes you've put the phone down. after all, you're just his space filler.
now...
you don't know why you're surprised he showed up at your door again. you're not surprised that you opened the door. you're not surprised that you let him back into your home. you're not even surprised that he's talking to you like everything is normal.
the only thing that takes you by surprise is your unwillingness to hear about the misadventures of his dating life.
"steve," you try to interrupt.
"and all i want -"
"steve."
"is for someone to really hear me, to see -"
"steve." you're surprised by the harshness in your own voice. his eyes flash over to you, widened slightly in shock. "you - you have to go now."
his brow furrow, he's taken aback. it occurs to you that he has no idea what he's done wrong. "why?"
"you know why," you spit at him.
"no, you said you understood. you said we could still be friends."
"friends?" you bitterly chuckle. "friends don't hurt their friends over and over again."
"i don't understand."
"that's the problem, steve. you don't get it. you don't get that i don't want to hear about the girls you date. you don't get that it hurts hearing you talk about what you're looking for in a woman. it hurts when call me at the end of the night because you want to hear my voice."
"they why do you answer the phone?"
"because i love you!" you hopelessly exclaim. "because i’ll do anything for you. i’ll do anything you say. and i think you know that."
"am i just supposed to know that you didn’t want to hear about them?"
"no girl wants that," you whisper. "no one wants to hear about everything they don’t have."
"i don't understand what's happening here. you promised me that you would always be in my life!" his accusing tone offends you far more than it should.
a tear slips down your cheek. "that was before."
"before? before what?"
each word hurts. he really doesn't know. he doesn't think about you at all. not as a consideration. not as a woman. not even as just a friend. he doesn't see you at all. "i can do this anymore. it’s too hard. i can - i can’t keep letting you break my heart."
"i told you that i didn’t feel the same. you knew i wasn’t in a space to - to reciprocate."
"and then you kissed me!"
he stiffens at the kiss that he refused to mention. all those nights he spent on the phone with you, talking to you. it was the one thing he never spoke about. "i - i know that wasn’t right. and i’m sorry, okay? i’m sorry i did that. i was hurting."
"you were hurting?" your breaths come out in fragments, with each heave of your chest you can hear the whistle of emptiness where your heart used to reside. "you - you knew how i felt and you knew you didn’t feel the same and you kissed me anyway."
"it was a mistake. i'm sorry."
your hands ball up in frustration, tear burn at the corners of your eyes. "it’s not just about the kiss. it’s - it’s everything. it’s you. you won’t let me go. let me move on. please."
steve staggers back, "i don’t- i'm not trying to hold on to you."
"why did you call me the other night?"
"because you’re my friend. you’re the person i wanted to talk to. you understand. you always understand."
"i don’t. i don’t understand. it crushed me."
he reaches out for your hand. hurt flashes in his eyes when you snatch it out of his reach. you can't let him blind you this time. "you’re always there for me. even when no one else is, you are."
you snort, "you don’t even know what you did wrong, do you?"
"you’re my best friend. i just - i wanted you hear your voice."
"you see? you keep messing with my head. you tell me that i'm the person you want to talk to at the end of the night. you tell people that i'm your soulmate. you tell me that you don’t feel the same. i tell you i want to move on. you kiss me. then you go on a date with another girl. when it doesn’t work out, you call me. i'm done. i can’t do this anymore. loving you is breaking me far beyond repair."
"i do love you."
you fervently shake your head over and over again, "you don’t mean that."
"i love you and i know it’s not in the same way but maybe - just give me time."
"time isn’t going to fix this. you don’t love me. you love the way i make you feel. you love being loved."
he scoffs, shooting a glare at you, "that’s not fair."
"no, it’s not," you agree. "and it’s not fair that you know how i feel and yet you just keep hurting me. you do it over and over again. and i keep letting you."
steve reaches for you again, "we can fix this."
you shake him off, striding to your door, opening it for him, "you should go."
"please," steve begs.
"goodbye, steve."
you don't know how you gather the strength to close the door on the man you love more than anything, let alone the man begging to stay in your life. the door clicks shut behind him.
a choked sob escapes your mouth as tears freely fall.
to know him is to love him, and you don't want to know a thing about steve rogers anymore.
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fineanddandy · 1 year
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Late Night Creeps
Not a Word
Summary: Steve and Bucky finish off their bro’s night with you and a movie…
Relationship: stepdad’s best friend!Bucky Barnes x black!reader x stepdad!Steve Rogers
Warnings: graphic language, alcohol use, age gap (reader’s in college), sneaking around, oral (fem rec), handjob, unprotected sex, sharing/threesome, smut cliffhanger (ish), 18+
A/N: MORE?! Shit looks like it…but will there be more after this one? Who knows…
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About midnight, and the TV’s blasting sirens and gunshots from the speakers; you’re up watching one of those ridiculously action packed movies just because. You’d been jumping from blockbuster to blockbuster, having a lone movie night after spending the day getting spoiled by your mom. Her lavish shopping spree and lunch date definitely made up for the last minute cancellation of your girls trip. You guys had an amazing day together, and you didn’t have to dive that deep into your well fabricated story. All she did was comment on how well you and Steve seem to be getting on without much else. Guess as long as everything’s peaceful, your mom had no concerns. Foolishly so. You can’t help but wonder if she was really that oblivious to what’s been going on under her roof. Even with Bucky staying there for no reason, in your face all the time, and Steve chomping at the bit about you two flirting and carrying on without repercussions? She has to have a sneaky suspicion or something. But nope. Didn’t even ask about guys back at school. No need to talk about men when there were shoes, clothes, and make up to look at.
Your spring break was coming along pretty nicely, you had to admit. During the day, you and Bucky were doing whatever the hell you guys felt like, while Steve stewed at his desk, receiving all sorts of messages and pics of you two together. Just had to rub it all in his face that he had more freedom with you than Steve ever could. But then Steve would get his sweet revenge late at night while everyone slept. Leaving Bucky a sign that he had been between your thighs. A twisted little game you were caught in the middle of. You slept when they let you. Your body was constantly in a state of exhaustion.
When you guys got back with your arms and hands full of bags, Steve and Bucky were heading out for a bro’s night that you couldn’t help make fun of. Bro’s night. What the hell would that intel for the two of them? Since you and your mom had a girls day, they decided to make plans of their own, fishing and doing whatever else.
“What are you old farts going to do?”
“Don’t worry about young’n.” Bucky playfully elbowed you with a snicker, heading out the door behind Steve winking back over his shoulder. “Don’t wait up.”
And you weren’t, not really, you just happened to lose track of time watching movie after movie. Your mom had watched a couple with you until she started falling asleep, calling it a night a few hours ago. Just there isn’t much to do with both of them gone, so you sit and watch the bad guys shoot it out with the good guys, wincing at the screen when things get a little too bloody. The story kept your attention for another thirty minutes or so until you hear Steve’s key in the door. Busting into the house holding onto each other with hushed tones and laughter. They gasp in unison when they find you sitting in the living room, trying not to laugh with a frown. They look like a couple of drunk frat bros on campus the way stagger into the room, leaning on each other for support. They would come in drunk just as the movie’s getting good. You might as well forget trying to finish this one. These two are about to act the fool it’s in their glossy blue eyes, their tipsy smiles.
“Mmm…look who’s still up…” Bucky sloppily falls onto the couch, throwing his trunk like legs across your lap with a slinky grin. “Waiting for us baby? Huh?”
Steve shushes him with a silly drunk giggle, swaying side to side as he crosses the living room to sit on the other side of you. “So loud Bucky. Don’t want to wake the missus.” He plops down into the empty seat, covering himself with your blanket.
“No youuu don’t want to wake the missus, or you’ll be in trouble,” he teases with a point of his finger, resting his weary head on your shoulder, “I can’t get in trouble, no matter what I do to her…”
“You’re in fuckin trouble with me,” he grunts with a roll of his eyes, draping his muscular arm behind you.
Bucky busts out laughing, lurching up for Steve to see. “Aww jealous bud? Am I crowding your space? Taking too much of Y/N’s attention?” He feigns a pout then sputters another audacious laugh, burying himself deeper under his skin.
“Nah it’s fine,” he shrugs, “Cuz once you’re gone…” Order will be restored.
You hate to interrupt their pointless bickering but, “Guys, seriously, I’m trying to watch this.” You point to the violence on the screen. They nevermind you.
“Speaking of the missus, shouldn’t you head on upstairs? Let her know her husband’s home alive and well?” Bucky flickers a brow at Steve, waving his fingers away as he gets comfortable under the blanket. Snuggling into your side, burying his itchy beard into your neck, murmuring, “And we can watch a couple of movies alone together…what do you say baby?”
“Bucky chill….” You giggle, pushing his sneaky hand off your thigh with a roll of your eyes, then fluttering them close as he kisses and licks the hull of your jaw.
“I’ll be back.” Steve demands stumbling his way to the stairs with a glare at you and Bucky getting frisky. “For real. Bucky,” he warns, narrowing his eyes, “what did we talk about.”
Scoffing he backs off you, falling back into the cushions with a groan. “Ugh fine. Hurry the fuck up then.”
As Steve tries to walk normally up the stairs, you turn your attention to Bucky sitting back watching the movie with hooded lids. “What did y’all talk about?”
Averting his sights back to you, a wayward smile creeps up his scruffy cheeks. “Steve’s mad cuz I’m not playing nice.”
Pinching your brow you wonder, “Playin nice…the fuck is that supposed to mean…”
Bucky sits up again, caging you to the back of the couch with a dangerous glint. “Well, I get you all day…while Steve may only get you for what, an hour or so after your mom’s passed out?” Bucky hums a chuckle as he faintly brushes his fingers up the back of your neck, sending a chill down your spine. “Dear ol dad’s upset, says we should be spending some time together…the three of us…” He closes with a flicker of his brows, licking and biting at his lengthening smile. You shake a sly smirk at that smile with a raise of your brow.
“Is that a problem?”
It hasn’t been the three of you since the first night, and as much as you love having them individually, a little two-on-one sounds really fuckin good. Steve and Bucky doin their double team routine made you tingle a bit, recalling their intimate growls in your head. You needed to be caught between their glistening hard bodies again, being tugged and pulled at from all angles. Better not be a problem…
“No baby, not at all…just think it’s funny that’s all. I’m only here for a few days, trying to make up for lost time and he’s in his feelings about it when he fuckin lives with you?” He sighs a chuckle, rolling his fingertips in a circle over your burning skin, dropping his gaze down your front. “He should be so lucky…” Bucky moistens his lips as he leans in a little closer. “…I could come visit you at school you know? Maybe pick you up on the weekends so we can be together? Take you out, go on a trip. Show him…”
You grin up at him, intrigued by the idea of going away with Bucky some weekends instead of coming home to Steve. “Hmm I like the sound of that…”
“Me too hun.” He takes you by the chin with an ice cold knuckle, bringing you in for a kiss. “We’ll have to much fun together…”
Steve’s thundering steps sound down the stairs as he comes rushing into the room, pants-less and still drunkenly grinning. Interrupting his buddy sealing his secret little deal. Bucky gripes with a little growl, dropping his head in defeat.
“Baby girl…” Steve takes you away from him, peering into your humored stare, caressing your face with both big hands. “Missed you all day today.”
“Missed you too Steve,” you laugh to yourself, kissing him ever so lightly, catching a whiff of whisky on his breath. “Did you guys have fun?”
“Of course, but I thought about you every second.” He lands a loving kiss on the tip of your nose.
“Hey me too.” Tired of being left out, Bucky grabs your thigh, your attention. “First day I didn’t get to spend making you moan for hours on end. Couldn’t wait to get back just to touch you like this…” his fingers travel up the blanket, “kiss you right here…” his puckered lips land where they were just a minute or so ago.
“Mmm Bucky…” You fall into his tender wet mouth with a moan, abandoning Steve keeping a hand on your shoulder.
“But I’m the last person to make her cum, so I know she spent the day thinking about my tongue inside her sweet pretty pussy…” He winks overhead, drawing you back into his hard side. Keeping you close Steve rubs a stiff hand over your stomach, inching his fingers beneath the blanket into your panties, softly stroking them back and forth over your pussy. Teasing you ever so slightly, dropping his gasping lips along the shell of your ear to hear how much you turn him on. You wring Bucky’s cool metal fingers, expecting to fist the couch cushion, writhing your hips beneath Steve’s tortuous embrace.
“Oh Steve…shit…”
“Sounds like I’m up next then bud…if you don’t mind…” Bucky nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders as he slips down off couch, getting down on his knees before you and Steve carefully watching him. Slithering his hands up under the blanket, he uncrosses your legs and spreads them apart, running them up your bare thighs riddled with goosebumps. “Not wearing any pants? Sure you weren’t up waiting for us to come home?” Catching your breath, you grab ahold of Steve’s hairy thigh under the covers, shaking your head no at his question. They just happened to catch you comfortable at home. You didn’t know what time they would be coming back. Honest. Neither of them believed you though.
“Don’t have to lie baby girl,” Steve erotically whispers in your ear, guiding your hand up to his dick bouncing around in his boxers. “We love when you want us back…love when you tempt us…”
Bucky hooks his fingers into the elastic waist of your cotton panties, yanking them off your hips and ass as Steve sloppily kisses down your throat, sneaking a warm hand up underneath your tank top. The tv screen fades out of focus as you close your eyes, losing yourself in Steve’s wet mouth and Bucky’s tender contact along your slit. Volume’s so loud it drowns out your weighted breaths, your sad little whimpers. Steve cups your breast with a throaty groan, sending a sudden shudder down your side squirming into his rippling muscles. Brushing a flat tongue over your flesh squeezing at your squishy muscle. Pawing his veiny dick, you keen between them turning you up, obsessed with the way he throbs in your weak grip. Steve softly hisses, breath hitches as you thumb his sticky head. You gasp out, hearing that catch in his chest, and you clench around his girth, making Steve bark a loud groan.
“Is that the spot baby?” Bucky asks with a slight turn of his chin, noticing how increasingly wet your pussy’s getting as Steve sucks at your neck. Fingers pinch and tug at your erect nipple, pet at your swelling clit and you sink into the cushions. Smiling at you succumbing to them Bucky spreads your sticky folds apart, tracing a lazy finger over them so hot. “Fuck I can’t wait to eat you…”
You glance down at the monster lapping at his drooling pouty lips, toying with your contracting hole. Inching down into the seat, you roll your hips up at him, begging him to come here. “Mmm Bucky…devour me…please…”
“Mmm come here…” Steve turns your desperate pleas towards his parted pink lips, “need to taste you…”
As Steve dives in tongue first, Bucky tosses the blanket over his head, jerking you closer by the hips and you gasp out the moment he laps a couple of long tantalizing licks up and down your exposed pink insides. Your moans are stifled back by Steve’s passionate kisses, tasting all the drinks he had with his bestest pal that’s sucking up all your juices. You fist Steve’s golden locks out of frustration, aggressively riding Bucky’s beard. Both of them using their whole mouths to consume you, you heave and writhe, holding on by the tufts of their hair. Holy hell…you’re drowning, choking on your grunts, sucking down Steve’s tongue. He’s on fire in the palm of your hand, jerking his hips into your grip to get himself off. Bucky runs his tastebuds over every inch of your rippling walls, practically inhaling your wetness he noisily smacks at your messy pussy. Like a man dehydrated, desperate for a drink. You can’t stop shaking, trying to find your breath but it’s lost…gone. Shared between the two swole beasts obsessed with tearing you apart. The noise of the movie drowns out your collection of indecent sounds.
“Fuck. Can’t get enough of this baby girl…can’t get enough of us…” Steve breathlessly murmurs into all your quiet mewling, taking ahold of your awed jaw, “don’t ever want this to end…”
“Me either daddy,” you pout with a broken whine, looking deep into his brilliant blue eyes. “Give myself to you…to Bucky…”
Together they hum contented grins, their blood pumping so fast. God they love when you sound so complacent. Makes Steve want to bend you over and fill you up for hours. Make Bucky fuck your throat so you can’t wake your mom. Steve takes your fist around his girth and helps you vigorously stroke his dick, slamming your conjoined hands into his fuzzy hilt.
“Say it again…” He huffs, grunting with each pump.
“Belong to you daddy,” you cry out a quivering moan, being lured to the brink by Bucky’s slithering tongue, “belong to you Bucky.”
Steve’s dick jerks, several drops of his precum seeping in between the lines of your fingers. Your name so pitiful in your ear he can’t stop callin out to you, panting for air, trying to keep his shit together.
“Ugh baby…hearing you say that…makes me wanna cum so fuckin hard…”
Hearing that makes you smirk, makes you cream at Bucky’s swollen lips. “Belong…to you…daddy…love your dick so much…”
“Yeah? Fuck. Fuck baby girl…” He rolls his head back with an exhausted sigh, bucking his hips up into your working wrist. “Belong to you too,” Steve whispers up to the ceiling with a drained shake of his head, feeling his load build up, “belong to that pussy…”
Timing can’t be anymore perfect. Because Bucky’s got your legs trembling, holding them apart, jaw unlatched and anxiously ready to catch the downpour of your bittersweet cum.
“Cum with me Steve.” You implore with a puny yip just as you spit down onto his inflamed head, giving him a nice tug, your floodgates about to burst. “Cum daddy please!”
A sharp gasp flees out of your convulsing chest as you lose all control, coating the seat and Bucky’s beard with your fluid as Steve’s load comes shooting out, flooding over your sore hands still attached to one another. Steve bites back all his groaning as he drops his chin onto your drooped shoulder, deliriously whimpering how much he loved you, how good you make him feel. You’re lazily patting Bucky who’s still cleaning you up with little joyful growls, burying his nose in your essence. He could stay face first in between your thighs for the rest of his days that’s how decadent you taste. Never get enough he was going to hate to leave. Steve brings his jizz coated hand to your dry lips and you open wide, extending your tongue to suck away every last trace of your indecency. Bucky reveals himself a disoriented mess, smiling all big behind his wet hair clinging to his pink skin. The three of you chuckle at how absolutely satiated you all look, sharing warm grins and affectionate touches, relishing in the moment you all just had. Exchanging fluids with Steve, then with Bucky, kissing them both so deep. They both make you feel so adored…fuckin worship you…how could you let either of them go ever…
“Steve?” Your mom’s voice comes from their bedroom door, nearly scaring you half to death but Steve and Bucky aren’t phased, looking at the stairs with scowls. Annoyed they’re being interrupted. “Can you bring me some water?”
“Uh oh…” Bucky sings with an arch of his brow, sputtering a laugh as he triumphantly stands to undo his pants, “better run along bud. Wife’s callin…”
“Ugh fuck.” He rolls his eyes palming his limp dick before he shoves his worn muscles up off the couch. “Still wanna fuck you…”
And you really, really wanted Steve to fuck you too but…
Bucky drops a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Too bad. Looks like you gotta wait til later.” He drops his pants then falls into the sofa, pulling you over into his lap to sit your tired throbbing folds down his length, discreetly moaning out, “Wolfie’s still up…” as your walls swallow him inch by inch.
Steve’s almost a little bitter to hear you moan out his best friend’s name instead of his, but the night’s far from over. He’s going to be balls deep inside you, and he’s going to make Bucky sit out and watch. As Bucky manipulates the rock of your hips, he meets Steve’s side eye with a wink and a breathy moan. Holding back his mocking laughter as he grinds into you shivering all over. Just before he goes into the kitchen, Steve snatches you by the chin and leaves you with a hard, supple kiss. Right in Bucky’s smug face.
“Meet you in your bed in a couple hours baby…”
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Text
.⋆。Steamy。⋆.
Steve Rogers x plus size reader
Stolen shampoo, hot shower and a perky little ass
Warnings: fluff, nudity but no smut, domestic fluff, some crack humour, implied smut WC: 564
Minors DNI
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You were absolutely covered in sweat and grime, a result of letting Sam pick your hiking trail for the day and of course he picked one that would give you a ‘challenge’. 10 miles of mostly uphill terrain later, you were so ready for a hot shower and a nap with your boyfriend. 
Your clothes came off piece by piece as you stumbled through your apartment until you reached the bathroom, where the shower was already running. You smirked as you tugged off your panties and slowly opened the door, revealing the site of a lifetime. 
The steam made his pale skin glow under the bathroom light. Water rolled down the defined muscles of Steve’s back, droplets getting caught in the divots and valleys of his shoulder blades and the small dimples at the base of his spine, leading right to the perky ass of your dreams. 
You bit your lip, it was far too tempting.
Your hand whistled as it flew through the air and collided with his perfect cheek with a satisfying smack. Steve immediately froze up, his hands still buried in his hair where he had been massaging in shampoo. Your smirk widened as he slowly turned to face you, his pretty blue eyes wide.
“Did you just… slap my ass?” 
“And what are you gonna do about it doll?” You retorted with Steve’s usual line when he was the one to smack your ass. He glared at you so hard he didn’t even notice that you were completely naked. You let your own gaze drift downwards, following a particularly fat drop of water as it rolled down his torso. It raced between his toned abs before getting lost in the thick patch of hair right at the base of his pelvis.
Your eyes wandered lower but before you could go down any further, Steve’s hands flew to cover himself. “You’re objectifying me.” He whined yet his bright red cheeks gave away just how much he enjoyed your attention.
“You like it.” You stepped into the shower, letting out a happy groan as the hot water washed over your sore muscles. Your boyfriend wrapped a muscular arm around your thick waist and tugged you into his chest.
“How was the hike?” He asked as he pressed a kiss to your hair. 
“It was fine but you need to tell Sam-“ You paused and sniffed at Steve. He raised an eyebrow at you but you ignored it and instead wound your fingers into his hair to pull him to your level. You buried your nose against his scalp and inhaled deeply. “Did you use my shampoo?”
“You weren’t supposed to be home yet?”
“How. Dare. You. Do you know how much that stuff costs! I only use it for special occasions!” You slapped a hand against his chest, purposefully ignoring the way he was flexing his pecs. Steve caught your wrists in one big hand. You thrashed playfully in his hold.
“Hey, it makes my hair look good.” He defended.
“Oh like you need to look any better than you normally do.” You sassed.
It was Steve’s turn to smirk as he pushed his hips forward and pressed his hardening cock into your soft stomach. “I just need to do my best to keep up with you.”
“Fuck you.” 
“I’m trying.” He grinned and you rolled your eyes and leaned into him.
Request: Steve Rogers: 13,12 and28 @as-white-as-snow-love
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whatthetumblfck · 7 months
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I Was Born Ready
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Summary: You're kidnapped on a mission gone wrong and it only gets worse. You eventually escape, but will Bucky and the team see you the same way?
Word Count: 6517
Warnings: swearing, some injuries, angst, whump
Content: Bucky x reader, Y/N, Avengers, whump, kidnapping. All of my fics are self-indulgent.
Please don't claim my work as your own, but feel free to reblog.
You wiped the sweat from your brow.  As far as you could tell, it had been 5, maybe 6, days since you were taken. You knew what HYDRA were doing. They were trying to break you. You adjusted your legs and shifted your weight in the dark, cramped space.  For the last several hours, you had been locked in some sort of box, just big enough to crouch or sit with crossed legs. It was hot as hell and you’d been sweating profusely, wondering how much longer you would last before passing out from dehydration or dying from heat stroke. But you tried not to worry about it. They will come for you soon. He will come for you. You just need to hang on a little while longer.
               A few more hours had passed, and the heat was suffocating. What little strength you had left was dwindling. You rested your head against the wall of the enclosure and closed your eyes, fighting the nauseating dizziness that threatened to overcome you.  The rattling of chains caught your attention. It seemed like the sound was getting closer. It was then you realized you had drifted- asleep? Unconscious? You weren’t sure, but you fought like hell to focus your attention on what was happening right outside your tiny prison. Suddenly, there was a sharp creak of metal and cool light flooded the box. You squinted your eyes, desperate to see what was going on.
“Get up!” a harsh voice demanded.
Your body shook as you tried to stand, but it was no use. You were too weak and dehydrated.
“GET UP!” they shouted angrily, as if that would provide the strength needed to undo the last several hours of torture.
Instead, your body gave up completely and you slumped inside the box. The next thing you registered was the sensation of a cool breeze on your face and the tops of your feet scraping along concrete as they dragged you by your arms back to your cell.
ONE WEEK EARLIER
“The fuck you mean it’s abandoned?” you whispered.
“I mean, I’m not picking up any heat signatures inside the building,” Sam clarified, adjusting Redwing’s controls just to be sure.
Bucky lowered his chin, smiling to himself. He knew you were always looking forward to a fight.
“All right, until we clear it, we’re going to proceed with caution,” Steve began, “Y/N and Bucky, you’re going to enter the south side of the building. Sam and I will cover the north entrance. Position Redwing on the east to detect movement from the access road. Once it’s clear, we set the charges and evacuate.”
You stole a sideways glance at Bucky and tried to hide your excited smile. You loved working with Bucky; you consider him to be your best friend. You felt like there might even be more there too. But you never pushed him. If being friends was all he wanted, then you would be happy with that.  Bucky was mostly quiet and reserved, but sometimes he would open up to you, tell you about his life before the war. Sometimes, but very rarely, he would reveal the horrors HYDRA inflicted upon him. You couldn’t respond; only listen in sickened contempt. Your hatred for them became personal because of what they put him through, but you also began to piece together how they operate, their torture methods, and their twisted thought processes. You filed away this information little by little, to use against them and one day, take them down. It became your personal mission, why you were so eager to take on HYDRA related missions, and so disappointed when they turned out to be flops.
Your thoughts were interrupted by an elbow gently nudging your arm. “You ready?” Bucky said as your eyes met his.
“I was born ready,” you replied, smugly.
Bucky smiled at your enthusiasm, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was tired of fighting, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to watch HYDRA burn to the ground. Having you fight beside him, though, was a double-edged sword. He enjoyed your company more than he let on, but he also worried for your safety.  He always asked Steve to pair you two together as much as possible on missions (so he could keep an eye on you), and he always received a knowing look in return. You were one of the best fighters Bucky had ever seen, but you could also be impulsive. Most of the time, you managed to compensate for this flaw and come out on top in the fight, but there have been quite a few close calls. Too close for Bucky’s comfort, even if you insisted you had everything under control.
“After you then,” Bucky said, gesturing to the south entrance.
“Such a gentleman,” you flirted, even though your tone was a bit condescending. You didn’t miss the fact that Bucky liked to keep an eye on you. It was obvious, the way he stuck by your side for every mission. It was sweet, but completely unnecessary.
Entering the building was uneventful. As you looked around, you took note of all the dust and debris, the result of what must have been years of no use. Maybe Sam was right, it must be abandoned. What a waste of time. You continued your sweep, clearing each derelict room.
“Second and third floors are clear,” Sam’s voice sounded in your comm.
“Well, aren’t you an over-achiever?” you responded mockingly.
“Y/N, Buck. What’s your status?” Steve asked, attempting to maintain professionalism on the mission. Captain Steve didn’t know how to have fun. Killjoy.
“First floor is clear, heading to the basement now,” Bucky reported, shooting you a ‘behave yourself’ look. You stuck your tongue out at him and ran for the stairwell.
“Y/N, wait!”
“Come on! There’s nothing here. Let’s clear this moldy-ass basement so we can blow it up and get home. I’m starving!” you announced.
Bucky caught up with you and roughly grabbed your elbow to pull you back.
“We need to be careful. This is HYDRA we’re dealing with. You need to take this seriously.”
You ripped your arm from his grasp, offended he would be so rough with you. “This isn’t HYDRA. This isn’t anything. There’s literally nothing here.”
Bucky schooled his expression. He didn’t want to be angry with you, but your recklessness could put everyone in danger. He let out a frustrated sigh, putting his hands on your shoulders and lowering his head to look into your eyes.
“Will you please be more careful? For me?”
You were momentarily stunned by the soft cadence of his voice. But quickly regathered your thoughts.
“Bucky, I am being careful. You need to lighten up.” You shrugged out of his grasp and turned back to the stairwell.
What is with everyone today? The super-soldiers are being super-serious. Even Sam seems like a stick in the mud, definitely not his usual, talkative self. Did you do something to offend them? You thought about the events of the last few days and couldn’t think of anything out of the ordinary. Definitely nothing that would explain what everyone’s problem is.
You glanced over your shoulder to see Bucky a few paces behind you as you descended the last of the stairs and reached the basement.
“Well, I didn’t think it was possible, but this looks even more abandoned than the first floor,” you said giving Bucky a pointed look.
“Just keep your eyes open for anything suspicious.” Bucky gently brushed past you to take the lead, advancing down the corridor. He had an uneasy feeling he just couldn’t shake.
“Suspicious?” you remarked sarcastically. “This whole mission is suspicious. What are we fighting here? The cobwebs? The ridiculous amount of dust?” You pushed past Bucky to take the lead again, but when you glanced back, you realized he had stopped. He was looking at you with wide eyes; his expression, one you didn’t recognize.  
“What? What is it?” you asked, concern growing in the pit of your stomach.
“You’re right. Nothing about this is right. There’s too much dust. Our source indicated there was activity here less than a year ago. It shouldn’t look like this.”
You looked around nervously. “Maybe the source was wrong.”
“Not likely…”
Unexpected static in the comms made you jump. You could hear Steve’s voice, but it kept breaking up and you couldn’t understand what he was saying until you made something out very clearly that made your blood run cold.
Pull back……’s a trap…--t out…ABORT!
Your eyes locked with Bucky’s. You froze. He was standing about 10 feet from you when you both registered a rapid clicking noise, like a sped-up clock.
“RUN!!” You heard him yell just before the explosion.
The wall behind you erupted, sending you several yards through the air until you collided with the ground. You could feel the heat and unbearable pressure on your back as you lay prone in the ruins. Dust swirled around you. After several moments of trying to remember how to breathe again and process what the hell had just happened, you remembered that Bucky was with you. You glanced over in his direction, but all you could see was a literal wall of rubble, fire, and smoke. You struggled to focus your eyes, blinking rapidly to clear the tears that were forming. Damn, that hurt.
Distantly, you could hear someone calling your name.
“Buck--,” your voice was cut off by a coughing fit as the dust invaded your lungs. “Bucky…” you tried again.
“Y/N?” he sounded closer. You could hear movement, crumbling concrete. “Are you hurt?”
It was at this point, you realized you should probably take a moment to figure out the damage.
“Y/N??” his voice sounded more concerned, more urgent. You weren’t sure how long you had taken to respond.
“Uhh…I….I think I’m okay……I can’t move. I think…ahh…there’s something on my back,” you choked out.
“You’re gonna be okay. We’re coming to get you. Just..hang on, okay? Hang on.”
Hearing this made you relax. Getting blown up was exhausting. You were certain you were going to hear about this later. About how you should have listened to Bucky, been more careful, taken the mission more seriously. You closed your eyes, trying to reserve your strength. You would need it to climb out of this burning hole in the ground.
After a few minutes, you felt the pressure on your back lessen. That was fast. You opened your eyes and tried to focus on Bucky’s face, but then you heard his voice from behind the burning wall of concrete. Confused, you concentrated your attention on the blurry figure standing before you. HYDRA. You gathered all your strength, trying to fight, but you couldn’t get a single hit in before a blow to your face rendered you unconscious.
Bucky heard footsteps and scraping rocks on the other side of the barrier. He had finally managed to make a dent in the rubble just large enough to see through. To see you being dragged away by HYDRA.
“NOOOO!” Bucky frantically slammed his metal fist into the rubble, trying to break through, but it was no use. He couldn’t get to you in time. He watched as you disappeared into the dust and smoke.
You were freezing. Another week had passed, maybe two. You weren’t sure. It was the same thing. Over and over.  Freezing to the point you couldn’t move or think. Then they would throw you in the box again until you passed out from the heat. You didn’t even know what they wanted. They didn’t ask you anything, barely said three words to you. Wouldn’t answer any of your questions. How the hell did they expect to get information out of you if they didn’t fucking ask you anything? Idiots. You’d be glad to give them as much false information as you could muster.
You were frustrated. Frustrated with this pointless torture and frustrated that no one had broken you out of this shithole yet. What was taking so long?
The next day was new. This time a man in a lab coat came into your cell. Based on the history of everything you have come to know about HYDRA, the lab coat is not a good sign.  He peered down at you where you sat against the cold, concrete wall.
“She’s ready,” he practically drooled with excitement. Disgusting.
Two oversized goons entered your cell and brought you to your feet as another ganglier looking goon wheeled in a stretcher. Your stomach dropped. Not good. This is not good. You tried not to let anxiety and fear get the best of you. You’ve endured the heat, the cold, the physical pain and the repulsive goop they fed you, but this was new, and you had no idea what they had planned.
“No. No no no. What are you doing?” You kicked and fought weakly as they strapped you down. You were unable to move.
Lab coat leaned in close to your face. You could smell the wicked stench rolling out of his mouth.
He simply answered, “Phase two.”
……..
“What do you want? You’ve been torturing me for weeks and haven’t asked me a damn thing! Do you even know how this works? No? Must have missed that day in torture 101.”
The lab coat stopped what he was doing and turned to face you. Amusement and almost pity plastered on his face.
“My dear. I haven’t been torturing you. I’ve been preparing you.”
…………
The first injection must have been a sedative and, for that, you were thankful. Your vision became blurry and all your muscles relaxed at once. You could’ve almost fallen asleep. Until the second injection. At first, it was cold, like ice running through your veins. Starting in your arm and flowing through your chest before settling in the rest of your limbs. It was enough to make you shiver and shake uncontrollably. With the last injection came the unbearable heat. It spread through you like wildfire, burning through the sedative and blistering your nerves. It coursed through your body, the agonizing flames filling your skull, threatening to split it open. It was too much. Unbearable. You thrashed your arms and legs beneath the restraints, screaming until you went hoarse. Nothing you did relieved the pain, the burning.  You were left alone in your misery, knowing nothing but the searing pain in your head, threatening to end your life. You hoped it would.
Then, it stopped. You thought maybe death had finally taken you and you felt sadness, for Bucky. For the team. But you were back in your cell. This couldn’t be death. Death isn’t this cruel.
You rolled on your side and slowly sat upright, fighting off the dizziness. You felt horrible, like you should be dead, but at least the pain had subsided. You experimentally staggered to the door of your cell and peered through the slot. It was eerily silent. Still, you waited to see if anyone approached. They almost always did when you awoke to send you for another round of torture…or wait. What did he say? They were preparing you..for what? The injections, ice and fire, the pain, all came flooding back to you. What did they do? Your breaths came faster. You had to get out of there. Fear and panic were in control now. You pushed and pulled at the door feverishly, and to your surprise, the door opened. Worried this was another trap, you stepped back, but no one came. What the fuck?
You left your cell and made your way down the hallway, searching for the exit or at the very least, a weapon. The building was completely cleaned out. They left you there, their experiment. Did they think you were dead? Or just a failure? You didn’t feel any different. Those HYDRA morons must have been bigger fucking idiots than you gave them credit for. Still, you weren’t going to stick around. When you finally made it out of the building, you realized you actually recognized the area. You weren’t that far from the compound. It made you sick to think you were only 10 or so miles from home this whole time, and still, they couldn’t find you. HYDRA could have practically walked up and rang the front doorbell, and the team would have had no idea.
It was cold outside and you were dressed only in a thin gown. You walked for hours, determined to make it home. You had no way of contacting anyone. You were surrounded by a few trees and fields of nothing. The final yards leading up to the compound were grueling. You were exhausted. Your feet bled and your legs shook with the effort.
It was early evening, you guessed, when you painfully stumbled into the common room, where Steve, Bucky and Sam all sat, attention focused on various maps and blueprints laid out before them. Steve saw you first, eyes staring and mouth hanging open. It would have been humorous had you not just been through hell and back. Bucky stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Steve’s expression and turned his head to see what Steve was staring at.
“Y/N??” Bucky couldn’t believe it. His eyes ran over your battered form, watching your whole body shake with fatigue.
You didn’t know what to say. You tried to choke back the tears that were now streaming down your face.
But this was all you could handle. You were suddenly dizzy, the room had started to spin and you dropped to your knees as Bucky ran towards you.
“Oh God! Call Dr. Cho!” Bucky ordered, but Sam was already on it.
You collapsed into Bucky’s arms and saw Steve running toward you. Bucky’s alarmed face was the last thing you saw before your eyes involuntarily closed.
When you awoke the next day, you were alone in the med bay. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, trying to force out the lingering headache. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and were about to remove your IV when Bucky walked into your room.
“Hey, you’re awake,” he said as he approached you cautiously. “How are you feeling?”
“Um..really..hungover,” you cracked a smile trying to break the tension. “How long was I out?”
Bucky looked at his watch before responding, “About 23 hours.”
“Oh shit. New record.”
Bucky looked nervous. “We looked everywhere..”
“Not everywhere,” you retorted, sounding more bitter than you intended.
“I didn’t think I was going to see you again.”
“Well…that makes two of us.” Your eyes stayed trained on the floor. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You spent weeks dreaming about seeing him again, and now you couldn’t even look at him. Why? Were you that angry that they couldn’t find you? They were obviously looking.
Bucky sensed that maybe this wasn’t the best time to broach the subject, so he changed it.
“So..uh…they want to do a debriefing on what happened as soon as you’re feeling well enough.”
You faltered. You didn’t want to talk about it, relive it. Especially so soon. But you’d rather get it over with so you can move on with your life. Put the whole ordeal behind you.
You looked down at the IV in your arm before ripping it out, the blood beginning to trickle down to your palm.
“Doll—what are you doing?” Bucky lunged toward you, grabbing gauze off the bedside table to apply pressure to the site.
You grabbed the gauze and took over applying pressure.
“I’m about to change my clothes,” you began glancing around the room before finding some in a bag below the bed, “so unless you want to see me naked, you can turn around.”
Bucky paused, mouth opening slightly before regaining his composure and turning to face away from you. You caught him off guard, which is honestly, something you’ve never seen happen.
You were a little disappointed. Maybe you’d been reading him wrong, and he doesn’t see you that way. Or maybe he’s just being a gentleman. This isn’t exactly the best time to explore your feelings for one another. Still, it stung.
………………………..
You sat at the table, nervously glancing at all the faces in the room. Fury, Tony, Steve, and Sam all had their eyes on you. Everyone except Bucky. He stood in the corner, holding his gaze to the floor.  He looked more nervous than you felt. Weird.
They asked their usual questions, and you answered as best you could. But you didn’t feel comfortable enough to go into extensive detail. You trusted these men with your life, but it was starting to feel less like a debriefing and more like an interrogation.
“…and you’re sure that’s all you remember?” Fury asked again.
You looked around the room again, each set of eyes seeming frustrated. Expecting more information than what you’ve provided for the last 2 hours. This was exhausting. A familiar headache was building behind your eyes, and you were beyond done with this.
When you didn’t answer right away, Tony asked another question. “They just let you walk away?” You could hear the blatant skepticism.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Tears were starting to fill your eyes. Damnit! This is not how you thought this would go, but you were feeling pressured, overwhelmed. “They tortured me! For weeks! The same damn thing. Over and over and over again! And I don’t know---maybe they thought I was DEAD!” You choked on a sob; tears streaming down your face now.
“Okay! That’s enough!” Bucky interjected, seemingly ending the questioning.
You quickly stood from your seat and rushed out of the room.
They all exchanged glances and Bucky lingered there silently for a moment before following you.
When he reached your room in the compound, he knocked, but you didn’t answer.
“Doll. It’s me. Can I come in?”
Again, you didn’t answer. He could hear your quiet cries. He tried the handle, but you had locked the door.
“Can you unlock the door, please?”
“Go away, Bucky,” you said, softly. You didn’t need to yell. You knew he could hear you.
“Come on. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” With that, he could hear you moving towards the door.
You angrily flung the door open, surprising Bucky and forcing him to take a step back. Your hair was disheveled, eyes red and still wet with tears.
“Do I look fucking okay to you!?!?” Bucky looked into your eyes, not knowing what to say.
“HYDRA imprisoned me, practically in our own fucking backyard and still no one came for me!”
“Y/N, I swear to you, we never stopped looking—”
“And as soon as I fight my way back here, you all grill me for information, like it was my fucking idea to get captured?”
“Doll, no one thinks this was—”
“I waited for—aagh—” the pain in your head suddenly flared. You squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the skin between them. Your discomfort was evident.
“Hey, hey. What is it? What’s wrong?” Bucky’s worried eyes searched your face for answers.
You tried to recover, to push the pain aside.
“I waited for you—AAGH” the pain peaked. The same blistering heat threatening to end you, keeled you over.
With your shaking hands on your knees, you could feel Bucky move to your side. His arms wrapped around your waist to support you.
“Doll, what’s going on? Answer me. Please!”
But you couldn’t answer him. You were back on that stretcher. A prisoner, again. All you knew was the burning pain. Maybe this time, it would spare you the torment and claim your life.
“SOMEBODY HELP! I NEED HELP!” Bucky’s voice sounded far away.
The fire swirled in your skull and bile burned the back of your throat. You lurched forward, fell to your knees, and vomited on the floor. Everything was suddenly black, then nothing.
You awoke once more, alone, in the med bay.  Well, not completely alone. You could hear talking, whispers. Just outside your door.
There’s something she’s not telling me. But I’m not going to try to force answers out of her. She’ll come to me when she’s ready. I’m just going to be her friend. That’s what she really needs right now.
Just a friend? You felt the blanket of disappointment weigh on you again. You were pulled from your thoughts when Bucky opened the door.
You kept your eyes on him as he carefully entered the room.
“Who were you talking to?”
“Huh?”
“Who were you talking to just now?” You tried not to sound like you were accusing him, but you didn’t like being talked about behind your back.
“I wasn’t talking to anyone,” Bucky shook his head, seeming to be genuinely confused.
Great. Now Bucky was lying to you. Some friend he’s trying to be. Even with him literally by your side, you were suddenly feeling very alone. No one trusted you. They think you’re hiding something. Truth be told, you are hiding something. You never told them about the injections, how the torture was actually “preparations”. You even left out the creepy lab guy coat because you were afraid. Afraid if they found out what really happened, that you were an experiment, they wouldn’t look at you the same way. You were afraid you would lose their hard-earned respect, your place on the team. You couldn’t risk it.
“So what happened?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“The pain? Passing out?” Bucky pressed, becoming serious. This felt like an interrogation again.
“Oh…it was just a headache,” you offered. Were you honestly expecting them not to ask?
“That’s bullshit. What happened to you? What did they do?” He seemed desperate and angry and you were becoming more and more guarded.
“I thought you weren’t going to force answers out of me.” You threw his words back in his face.
“What?”
“Nothing”
“What did you say just now?”
You were out of patience and just wanted to be alone. “Nothing. Please leave.”
Bucky stared at you, disbelieving, before turning his back on you and walking out the door.
A single tear slipped down your cheek. What the hell happened? Everything was fine. You were on a mission, business as usual, and then you were captured and tortured. You miraculously make it back home and suddenly, everyone is against you? You didn’t do anything wrong. Why is everyone acting like you’re at fault?  Your thoughts are becoming louder in your head, circling frantically and building tension. You clench your teeth, trying to hold in a scream, but you can feel an energy building inside you. You pull your knees to your chest, struggling to contain it. Your clenched fists pound at your temples. You don’t know what’s happening; you feel out of control, about to spill over. Explode.
Suddenly, you lose control, letting out an ear-piercing scream, releasing a force you had never felt before. All at once, glass bottles and cabinets shatter, the reinforced windows in your room crack. Furniture is thrown chaotically. Everything is broken, in a frightening disarray, and you’re left sitting in the ruins of what once felt like a safe place.
You tried to catch your breath, eyes darting around the room, attempting to make sense of what just happened.
Oh, God. Oh, God.  What did HYDRA do to you? What have you done? You needed to get out of there. Now. You jump to your feet, grab your clothes, and run. You shove past S.H.I.E.L.D. employees in the hallways, their thoughts intruding and overlapping with your own.  It took you a moment to realize what it was, what you were doing: unintentionally hearing their thoughts. You have to get away, get out. It’s too loud. You’re still running when you hear more familiar voices, but these aren’t in your head.
You can hear Bucky, Steve and Sam talking about what they found at the base where you were kept. Empty syringes. Medical equipment. Partially encrypted files describing some kind of experiment. They know—how could they not? Have they known this whole time?
“I don’t know what they did to her. She won’t tell me, but…she’s different.” Bucky spoke quietly.
Different? Is that how he saw you now? Is that why he’d been acting so strangely since you got back?
“Look man,” Sam reasoned, “she’s been through a lot. It would be weird if she wasn’t acting differently.”
“Still, if they did do whatever this experiment is on her, we don’t know what the outcome is…If she’s still herself, or even on our side,” Steve added.
Your heart dropped. You already felt like they didn’t trust you, which was bad enough, but now they’re against you? You waited for Bucky to defend you. He knows you better than anyone, but his silence spoke volumes. You thought Bucky, of all people, would understand what you’d been through. That you would never turn on them. You really were all alone in this. You felt the fear and uncertainty pouring out of the room.
Then, an unfamiliar voice on the intercom startled you.
Code Gray- Med Room 4. Code Gray- Med Room 4.
Shit. That was your room. Then the alarm started blaring and you ran. When did you become the enemy? How did this happen? You’re not part of HYDRA. You’re the victim. You managed to get out of the compound without anyone else seeing you. But you had no idea where to go from there.
Bucky, Steve, and Sam rushed to your med room. They stood there in disbelief, taking in the scene. It looks like a bomb went off.
“What the hell happened?” Sam asked.
“We’re not sure, sir. We, uh, heard a scream and when we got here, the room was empty,” a nurse answered.
“Where is she?” Bucky asked, growing impatient.
“We don’t know, I’m sorry,” the nurse responded before quicky leaving the room.
Steve and Sam exchanged looks. Bucky ran his fingers through his hair.
“Buck….”
“No.”
“We need to consider all the facts, here.”
“No, Steve! She wouldn’t do this. She’s not HYDRA.”
“Dude, she was missing for weeks and then just waltzed through the front door? That doesn’t seem odd to you?” Sam added.
“She didn’t waltz, Sam. She could barely walk, then she collapsed,” Bucky defended.
“So you think they just let her go? When the hell has HYDRA ever just let anybody go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Her story isn’t adding up, Buck.”
“They did something to her, she’s different. I just don’t know why she’d hiding it.”
“What do you mean? What aren’t you telling us?” Steve questioned.
“I think….whatever they did to her, worked. I thought it was a coincidence, at first, but then…this,” he motioned around the room. “I think she could hear what I was thinking earlier, and I think this is part of whatever she’s going through. I think she’s enhanced.”
They all looked around the room, letting Bucky’s theory sink it.
Steve broke the silence. “We need to find her before she hurts someone.”
You were walking against the cold wind and found yourself back at the shithole. You weren’t sure what you were doing there. Looking for answers, maybe? Waiting for them to find you? Like they were supposed to do. Before the injections, before they turned on you, before you lost control. What did they think of you now? You’re certain they must think you’re HYDRA. Fear and despair surged through you, and you started to lose control again. Objects that surrounded you started to rattle and lift into the air, crashing into walls.
You saw movement from the corner of your eye, emotions flaring even further. They had found you. Tears streamed down your cheeks, wetting the front of your sweatshirt.  You had already lost everything. They may as well take you now and put you in whatever floating prison they have. They marked you as guilty the moment you walked back into the compound.
“Y/N? Sweetheart, can you hear me?” Bucky approached you slowly, motioning to Steve and Sam to hang back.
You slowly turned to face him. Finally seeing his face broke you, and you started to cry harder. The cot beside you rattled along with desks and shelves, lifting off the floor, quaking violently, erratically. Bucky held up his hands, gesturing to you that he meant you no harm. And you wanted nothing more than to believe him, to melt into his arms.
As your emotions ran wild with fear and anguish, the chaos around you swelled. You shook your head trying to empty it of the intrusive whispers. You were ready to surrender. You just wanted all this to be over, but when you looked past Bucky to see Steve and Sam in their full Avenger gear, a realization hit you. They were here to fight you. Bucky noticed the change in your demeanor. You felt the energy inside you intensifying again. The building began to tremble.
“Y/N. Y/N! Look at me! You’re going to be okay. We’re here to take you home.” Bucky tried to reason.
“No. NO! You’re here to hurt me. You don’t trust me, think I’m HYDRA!”
“That’s not true. We’re your friends. We want to help you,” Bucky insisted.
“Help me? That’s why you brought Captain America and Falcon with you?!”
You were angry now. If they wanted to take you, it would have to be by force. That’s what they wanted. You looked back over at Bucky and noticed the light reflecting off the tears that gathered in his eyes. You felt like you were about to detonate.
“Sweetheart, please,” Bucky pleaded with you; His hand stretched out towards you, beckoning you to take it.
The building shook even more violently with the release of your emotions. Once again, objects cracked and shattered all around you, but this time, the entire building threatened to come down on top of all of you.
“I can’t. I can’t control it….” You looked to Bucky, desperate for all this to end.
As dust and debris rained from the ceiling, you heard the order.
TAKE HER! NOW!
You whipped your head to the side, catching sight of Redwing; you hadn’t noticed it there before, but it was too late. Two darts struck your neck, delivering a powerful sedative. You swayed on your feet for only a moment before going down hard. All the objects flying around the room, uncontrollably, crashed to the ground at once. The building stood still once again. Whatever they hit you with was strong. You couldn’t move, but yet, you weren’t completely unconscious.  You could faintly hear distorted commotion around you and your eyes felt heavy.
“Jesus Christ, Steve!” Bucky kneeled at your side to brush your hair from your face, wiping your tears in the process.
“I’m sorry, Buck. We had to. You heard her. She couldn’t control it.”
Bucky gently picked you up and held you close to his chest. You could tell he was walking, but your vision was starting to blur even more. Then you felt his breath on your ear as he whispered that you would be okay. You were safe now. They were going to fix this. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to sink into the darkness.
THREE WEEKS LATER
“I don’t want to be a prisoner anymore, Bucky.”
“You’re not a prisoner.”
“Well, I can’t leave. That is the definition of prisoner, right?”
“Bruce thinks he’s close to a cure. He just needs a little more time.”
“You’ve been saying that for 3 weeks.”
Bucky offered you a half-hearted smile, but it was tainted with regret.
You were beginning to doubt their ability to fix you. Where would they even begin? You were just the result of another fucked-up half-assed HYDRA experiment.  They couldn’t cure you any more than they could cure Bucky or Steve of being super-soldiers. You know it. They know it. You just wish they’d stop blowing smoke up your ass.
Just then, Bruce appeared behind the reinforced glass doors, pressing his palm to the scanner to gain access to your room.
He approached your bed with the same half-hearted smile Bucky imparted.
“Hello, Y/N. How are you feeling today?” Bruce began, like he always did when starting his examinations.
“Fine. Normal. How’s the cure coming along?”
He hesitated for a moment, ignoring your question before continuing with his own.
“Any more headaches?”
“No. Not really.”
“Good, good. That’s good.” More hesitation.
“Just spit it out, Bruce.”
“Well, uh..” he fiddled with his clipboard, pretending to review his findings. “We did some genetic profiling and it looks like the experiment has altered your DNA in ways we’ve never seen before. Your brain scans are phenomenal.”
“That’s not exactly comforting….” You knew where this was going, even though you didn’t completely understand the science of it all.
“What does that mean?” Bucky leaned forward in his seat, prompting Dr. Banner to elaborate.
“Well, I’m afraid it means we can’t cure you.”
Bucky leaned back in his chair; the atmosphere in the room deflated. He didn’t even look at you. You knew this was coming but hearing it out loud and seeing Bucky’s dejected reaction only solidified your fears. There is no hope.
Dr. Banner continued, “The good news is that you seem to be adapting and stabilizing well.”
“Yeah, yeah…” You didn’t want to hear anything else. You weren’t even listening. All you can think about is how you’re no longer an Avenger and how Bucky won’t even look at you now. You lost him; your best friend, maybe more. Where do you go from here?
“I just have a few more questions for you,” Dr. Banner began again, “Are you still able to hear the thoughts of others?”
“Yes. But I can mostly block it out. It’s gotten easier.”
Dr. Banner smiled. “And there haven’t been any more incidents….” He held up his pen. “Can you move this towards you, please?”
You looked up from your lap and focused on the pen, gently floating it above the bed until it reached your grasp.
“Amazing…”
You wished Dr. Banner would be a little less enthusiastic. Your life, as you know it, is over and you’re not in the mood for this.
“Okay. I’m releasing you from my care.”
“Wait. What? When?” You stared at him in awe. Is he joking?
“Right now.” He gathered his notes and left the room, door unlocked.
You felt Bucky grasp your hand. His smile was bright as he waited for your thoughts to catch up.
“Come on. We have a mission,” he coaxed.
“I-I don’t understand,” you hesitated. “I didn’t think you wanted---I didn’t think anyone trusted me.”
“Sweetheart, we do trust you…and I’ll always want you. No matter what.” He squeezed your hand a little tighter. “We found the shitbags that took you…you ready to kick some ass?”
Your eyes lit up with excitement and determination. “I was born ready.”
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lesbojournals · 29 days
Text
Without Me?! (Stucky x Reader)
You woke up with a groan at the pain your body was feeling all over. The hickies on your neck burned, your lips hurt, your head was pounding, and god your legs felt like jello. You rubbed at your eyes and opened them, wincing at the bright light filling the room. You groaned again, this time much louder, as you shut your eyes.
You heard a snicker and immediately turned to glare at who was making it, unsurprised that it was Bucky.
He gave you a smile. “Feeling peachy this morning?”
You gave him a playful slap and turned around, groaning again. “Remind me to never have drunk sex with either of you again.”
That got Steve to perk up. “What’d I do?!”
You turned back around to face the two of them and motioned to your physically inept body. “This!! How am I supposed to get anything done today.”
Two answers popped up immediately– “With the tylenol on the nightstand.” sarcastically coming from Bucky and “You don’t need to do anything, we’ll do it for you.” coming from Steve.
You glared at Bucky and glanced back at Steve. Bucky was particularly energetic this morning, almost glowing. Steve was acting wholesome, gently tickling Bucky’s chest.
Then it clicked. “You two had morning sex without me!!”
Bucky turned to Steve. “See? I told you she’d figure it out.”
That irritated you even more. “You were gonna keep it a secret from me??!”
Steve rushed to grab your hand from behind Bucky, looking frantic. “No!! No, Bucky just wanted to see how long it would take for you to figure it out, sweetheart.”
Bucky smirked. “Barely took you five minutes.”
That earned a smack with a pillow to Bucky’s face, unfortunately getting Steve’s face as well in the crossfire. 
“Hey!! You were asleep! Very deeply, for that matter!! We didn’t want to disturb you, and we knew you’d be sore from last night.” Bucky defended, grabbing the pillow from you.
You “hmph’ed” at Bucky and turned around, deciding that you were done listening to the two of them for the morning.
Bucky scooted closer to you and grabbed you from behind, giving you slow and tender kisses up your neck. “Come on…you know you love us.”
You were already starting to calm down at Bucky’s touch–but you stayed silent, not wanting to prove any point. Steve got up from bed and walked over to your side, looking down at you. 
“Pancakes?” He asked, crossing his arms (which showed off his beautiful muscles). 
You scooched back into Bucky’s chest and nodded at Steve. “Yes please.”
He leaned down and gave you a small kiss, making you smile up at him. “Anything you want, beautiful.”
Steve left the room, throwing on a shirt before doing so. Bucky hummed and started to play with your hair, giving the top of your head small kisses in between. You sighed happily before your head pounded again.
“Ugh,” You groaned. “My head.”
“Take some tylenol, love.” Bucky whispered softly. “It’s on the bedside table.”
You listened to him and did so, letting yourself flop back into Bucky’s embrace after greedily drinking all the water out of your water bottle. Steve soon came in with your pancakes, letting you eat them in bed for once. Bucky brushed through your hair as Steve surfed through the TV to find something for all of you to watch and you smiled to yourself. 
Maybe they weren’t so bad after all. 
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