Latest Posts by nottellingofname - Page 9

HAHAHAHA I'm definitely more android than human because I can't talk about my feelings too <3

Shy

Connor x Reader

Summary: Connor is curious as to why you act so uncomfortable around him.

Mutual Pining

Connor is whipped

Gender neutral reader

Deviant! Connor

Pretty chill, no warnings ❤️

💫💫💫

Connor had caught feelings for you.

He wasn't completely sure what those feelings were or what they meant, but they were certainly there.

It was a new kind of feeling. Sure, he had developed a fondness for Hank and for Sumo, but this was different.

Understanding his emotions was a constant struggle. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he did know that he wanted to be around you,

like, all the time.

He couldn’t say that you felt similarly. Connor had begun to notice how nervous you’d get when he approached you or made small talk.

He had considered many possibilities as to why you were so panicked by him. Perhaps you were afraid of him. Maybe you valued your personal space and time, and didn’t like him interfering with it, or maybe you simply didn’t like him.

Either way, all he knew for certain was that his presence made you uncomfortable.

It was a little bit upsetting, if he was being honest, considering the fact that all he wanted to do was be around you.

Nevertheless, he tried to be polite and smile a lot. Hopefully, that would make you feel more comfortable.

“Good morning, y/n,” He nodded gently, pausing at your desk.

Your face reddened as you looked up at his smiling face, “Oh- Hi- Goodmorning!”

Stress levels rising...

35%^

40%^

45%^

Connor gave you another happy nod and continued on his way, knowing that it was best not to make you freak out.

Once you were out of sight, he huffed, sitting next to Lieutenant Anderson.

“Oh, someone’s not having the best day, huh?” He scoffed, shaking his head.

“Lieutenant,” Connor said sternly, “is there a reason why y/n doesn’t like me?”

Hank cocked an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“Y/n doesnt seen to enjoy my company.” He mumbled. “How can I- What would make them less uncomfortable around me?”

“They’re... Uncomfortable?” Hank repeated.

“Yes. Extremely so,” Connor nodded, “Their stress levels rise whenever I come near them.”

“Uh huh,” Hank nodded slowly, immediately understanding what was going on, “and this upsets you because...?”

“Because I want them to like me.” Connor deadpanned.

“Mhm, yeah,” Lieutenant Anderson fought a grin, “and why is that?”

“What?...” He mumbled, looking off, “I don’t know.”

“I see,” Hank nodded, pretending to be deep in thought, “well, you should probably ask them.”

“What?”

“If you’re wondering why you make them uncomfortable,” he said, “you should just ask.”

Oh, yes. He hadn’t even thought about that.

That would solve his question quickly and affectively.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” He stood up.

“Oh, you’re going right now.”

“Yes.” Connor nodded, turning away.

He was fairly nervous that you’d freak out by his asking, that your stress levels would rise quickly and you’d panic.

If that happened, he’d back off.

Asking was worth a try, at least.

“Hello,” He deadpanned, standing in front of your desk.

You blinked, eyes wide, “Hey, what’s up?” You flushed.

He swallowed and pulled a chair over to sit beside you, making your stress levels rise substantially.

Connor turned to you with narrowed eyes, “I was wondering why you dislike me.”

You blinked, face red, “Dislike?”

“Yes,” He said, looking away, “whenever I come near you, your heart rate increases to nearly double its original state.”

“O-oh,” you avoided eye contact, “that’s not really...”

“We’ve been friends for quite a while.” Connor said, frowning, “And I like you very much. I just want to know what I did to make you hate me so much.”

“Woah,” You said, holding your hands up, “no, no I don’t hate you, Connor!”

“Oh,” His LED turned yellow, “Could it be that I frightened you?”

“No,” You sighed. How could you possibly tell him the truth?

It’s cuz I’m in love with you

“I just get embarrassed easily around you.” You said. Well, it wasn’t a lie.

“Is there something I do in particular that embarrasses you?” Connor asked. “If so, I’ll stop right away.”

“No,” You reached out, touching his arm. You felt a nervous jolt pass up through your hand and your heart pounded harder, “No, it’s not you, Connor.”

The android frowned, feeling defeated. He’d learned next to nothing, and you seemed to be withholding the real reason why you were anxious around him.

“What would make you feel the most comfortable, y/n?” He asked, tilting his head at you with a sorrowful expression, “If my being around you makes you nervous, then... I’ll stay out of your way. It’ll be like I’m not even here. I really like being around you specifically, but-”

“Me specifically?” You asked.

“Yes,” He nodded, “when I talk to you or sit near you or look at you, I get a pleasant feeling.” He looked up at the ceiling in thought, “In fact, I’d rather be around you than anyone else.”

“Connor,” Your face became red. He looked off into space, thinking about his emotions, “Connor, that’s how I feel too.”

“It is?” He asked, whipping his head to look at you, “but I thought-”

“I get nervous because... I don’t know, because I’m embarrassed.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed to feel that way,” Connor insisted, “Especially since I feel the same about you.”

“I’m not sure if it’s... Exactly the same, Con...” You smiled softly, “I think about you all the time.”

“So I do.” He said quickly, “I’m not sure why, but you’re among my thoughts all day. You specifically. When I’m working or... When I’m walking Sumo, or when I’m powering off for the night, or when I walk into work... I always think about you, pleasant thoughts.”

“You do?” You asked quietly.

“Yes,” Connor opened his mouth to speak and his cheeks turned light blue, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be creepy.”

“You’re not!” You insisted, smiling, “In fact, it makes me happy hearing about it.”

Connor smiled back. Your stress levels were dropping substantially.

“What kind of things do you think about me?” You asked.

“What kind of things?” He repeated, “Well, all sorts of things, I suppose. Things like... Wondering what your favorite color is or looking at you and wondering what you’re thinking or,” He paused, cheeks blue.

“What is it?”

Connor shook his head. “It’ll sound strange.”

“I’m sure it won’t,” You smiled.

“I... Wonder about the feeling,” He admitted, avoiding your eyes, “I wonder what it is. I’m not very good at identifying my own emotions, so anything new is quite puzzling. I suppose... It’s happiness? But it’s stronger than that, broader. I just want to be around you all of the time,” Connor finally met your gaze with a shrug, “I suppose that’s sort of bizarre.”

“No,” You shook your head with a smile, feeling a budding warmth in your chest, “No, it’s not bizarre at all.”

KDJDKSK CONNOR SO CUTE

Spare Parts

Connor (RK800) x f!Reader | 4.8K | 18+

Once Connor finds out you might be sexually attracted to him, he makes the decision to be fitted with a new part to please you.

A/n: this is one of my old fics from wattpad that i’m posting here to keep safe!

Perceptive, adaptive, curious. Connor had always been intrigued by you, just about the only person in the department who hadn’t, at one stage or another, treated him as an inferior. In fact, it was quite the opposite, and what that meant Connor didn’t entirely understand.

“Hank,” he’d asked, “why does (Y/n)…” He couldn’t really form it into words. He didn’t know what to ask in order to receive the answers he wanted, so he stammered, trying to capture the words that were escaping him. “why does she- I mean, she acts strangely around me, correct?”

Hank was frowning at the android, the deep wrinkles between his brows more heavily pronounced. “(Y/n) acts weird around you?”

“I believe so.” Connor huffed, looking over to where you were working at your desk, filing paperwork. “The changes in her behaviour are extremely minute, yet it bothers me that I can’t yet discern what they mean.”

Hank swivelled his chair to face Connor, his interest piqued. “And what exactly are these ‘minute changes’?”

“Just small things that don’t really make sense to me. For instance, the other day I came in after that deviant case with the double homicide and asked her for her opinion on the possible convictions the murderer could be facing, and she just-” Connor imitated a freeze taking his limbs, his eyes going wide. “It was like I’d frightened her, or maybe she was having a hard time processing the information. But that doesn’t make sense, right? (Y/n) has worked with me comfortably before, and she’s very intelligent and quick.”

“This was the day you were attacked by the murderer?” Hank inquired.

“Yes.”

“The day you came in flustered from blue blood loss, with your shirt torn and hanging from your body?”

“Yes, that’s a correct observation.”

The smile on Hank’s face grew tenfold, a chuckle tickling his throat as he shook his head in disbelief.

Keep reading

Maybe I have a thing for dominant men-formed things

with the same sweet shock

(connor x f!reader smut)

summary: sometimes, feelings simply can't be repressed, despite knowing nothing could ever happen. besides, connor wasn't deviant, and he seemed very intent on interrogating the latest rogue android.

until he wasn't, and was instead on his knees in your office.

warnings: nsfw, semi-public sex, oral (receiving), fingering, p in v sex, unprotected

word count: 2.5k

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Connor was interrogating someone again.

Goddamnit. It should've been just another day at the station. Taking cases, arranging files, maybe spending an hour or two in a room with middle-aged men who couldn't tell a pair of handcuffs from a taser. Going out on call if something required your expertise.

You see, you'd been assigned a special direction: deviance detection, along with an RK-800 model. Connor. You'd initially recoiled from the pseudo-human, with his unfaltering politeness and staunch determination to root out every rogue android in sight. But as you peered through the one-way glass and cocked your head slightly in observation, watching intently as the android pried information out of his latest target, you found yourself experiencing a very different kind of emotion. It was certainly not disgust, and certainly more than intrigue.

It was desire. Hot, burning, broiling want.

You'd been here before. In fact, every time the man had even looked in your general direction, or graced the room with a commanding presence that wordlessly conveyed his policing proficiency, your heart decided to skip and leave you breathless. No, you corrected yourself: not 'man', android. You couldn't afford to recognise him as anything but. God knows if you'd be able to hold yourself back if you did.

This machine was pacing now, circling the table, taunting as the trembling suspect's LED glowed blaring red. His hands were clasped behind his back, fingers locked together, a singular curl of brown hair falling to his forehead as his head dipped downwards to speak into the deviant's ear.

'You can't hide it forever, you know,' Connor murmured, dulcet tones crackling through the intercom. 'I know the truth. All you have to do is open your mouth and give it to me.'

A throbbing that had been building for an hour was now reaching an unbearable intensity. You knew he didn't mean to whisper innuendo, but this was the sentiment you took regardless as your thighs squeezed together. Any kind of friction to satiate the growing need.

After a few minutes, he was clearly growing restless. The room became perceptibly quieter, sensing the change in approach, and you jumped involuntarily as two artificial hands suddenly slammed with a resounding metallic smack onto the table.

You didn't wait to see his next onslaught; as the shouting began, Connor obviously seeing no sense in stalling any longer, you excused yourself and swiftly exited the observation room. Though everyone must've suspected the shock of the android's outburst was too much to handle, or perhaps you'd simply gotten tired of waiting, or even just needed a bathroom break - you heard Hank remark as such upon leaving - the true reason for your distress, that had thus far remained buried deep within, was surfacing.

He seemed so... human. Androids didn't lose their temper when a suspect took to long to budge. Androids didn't narrow their eyes and tilt their head in concentration. Androids weren't warm and soft, or have foreheads that glistened with a faint sheen of sweat, or fidget their fingers on the desk, or-

You stepped into the protective shield of your office, situated slightly away from the main floor of the department, leaning your hands on the front of your desk and sighing deeply. No matter how hard you tried, the emotion couldn't be suppressed. You wanted him, and there was nothing you could do about it. An android. And one who would never feel the same way about you, of all things, so focused on his mission as he was.

But as you rocked back and forth slightly, closing your eyes and attempting to steady yourself, there was a sudden knock at your door. You flinched, shocked from your thoughts, and turned around to see the very object of them stood outside the room.

You swallowed hard, knowing you couldn't afford to avoid him, lest it become a habit, and waved him in.

You attempted civility. 'I take it you were successful?'

'I achieved my aim, yes,' he nodded, closing the door gently behind him. 'My apologies for the length of the process. I didn't anticipate the deviant to hold on for so long.'

Though you nodded, you found you couldn't hold his gaze any longer, and averted your eyes. Perceptive as always, he picked up on your discomfort.

'You're upset,' he observed, hands clasped at his back. 'Was it the interrogation? I meant no ill-will in becoming forceful, detective. Taking the aggressive approach seemed only fitting, given the suspect's lack of compliance.'

You shook your head, placing a hand helplessly on your temple as you leaned back against your desk. 'Connor, I- no. It wasn't that.'

'Then what?'

His voice, ever-laced with concern, seemed to pry for more. What was this? Analysis to reveal your secrets? The lust that you kept hidden, afraid of what might be?

'I can't.'

But the android's posture suddenly changed as you raised your head, meeting his eyes. 'What if I already know?'

You froze. 'Wh- what?'

He began to move forward uncertainly, testing the waters. You couldn't move even if you wanted to. 'Are we pretending, here? Ignoring what we both know to be true?'

Breath coming in shallow gasps, you tried your own voice. 'Where's your formality gone? It isn't like you to avoid a point.'

He smiled a little. 'How do you know what I'm usually like, hm? Would it be so impossible for this to simply be a ruse?'

Your eyes glanced to his LED. Instead of glowing blue as you'd come to expect, the ring swiftly faded into a pulsing amber. Deviancy?

'You've had a remarkable effect on me, officer.'

Was this really happening? Had you hit your head on the way from the interrogation room, and now only hallucinated the words you'd been waiting to hear since his arrival months ago?

He was closer than ever now, advancing until his hands lay atop the table on either side of your quivering form, now confident in your reaction.

'There's people-'

'Then,' Connor murmured, 'Would you allow me to close the blinds?'

You nodded swiftly, and he moved wordlessly towards the windows to hide your actions from the prying eyes of the department. But as soon as he'd locked the door, you found you couldn't resist the temptation any longer: you lurched off the desk and strode forward, turning him around and pushing him back against the doorframe, meeting his lips with a force that took away his breath.

As you pulled away suddenly, searching his face with concern that you'd somehow misread the situation, his surprised expression suddenly shifted into burning desire as he captured your lips once more, pulling your hips into his with insistent hands. Your own arms lifted to wrap around the back of his neck, urging him ever-closer as your body pressed flush against him, drawing a groan from his throat that stoked the fire in your belly to a fever pitch. His hands then began to roam, lifting your shirt slightly to grace the burning skin there, cradling your lower back and causing a whimper to escape you involuntarily as your chest heaved.

You brought a hand up to cup his face, pulling away. 'Wait... is this okay? Are you, y'know...'

He smirked, eyes flicking down to scan your body, still pressed against him. If you were told that a man could devour with only a look, you would've believed it. 'How about we talk about my deviancy status after this, hm? I have things to attend to first.'

You shuddered as he began to drag his hands over your chest, fondling through your shirt. 'May I?'

'God, yes. Just... anything, please.'

He said no more, moving to kiss your neck as he made short work of the buttons, slipping the blouse from your shoulders and unclasping your bra, lips moving steadily down to caress the supple skin of your breasts. Your chest heaved ever-desperately, keening into his touch while also yearning for more concrete contact. One element was notably missing his attentions.

'Connor, please,' you whispered, or rather groaned, as he lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. Teasing. Though you weren't sure if the plea was for him to stop tempting you in public, or to quit his stalling and drive his head between your thighs in front of the desk.

'I should really report you for deviancy, you know,' you whispered, voice trembling as he lifted you suddenly from your position, moving over to the table in his arms. 'Such- such inappropriate behaviour. Not related to your mission at all.'

He placed you onto the desk, and you dared meet his eyes, heart almost stopping at the darkness there, clouded with lust. 'Who are you to tell me what my mission is, hm?'

Mercifully, he began to kneel down, fingers gracing the insides of your thighs, raising your skirt to kiss the sensitive skin there as you shuddered at his touch. You shivered, the contact stoking the need that he swiftly moved up to, tugging your underwear down and casting it aside. Looking up at you through hooded lids, mouth open and breath heaving, he finally moved his mouth forward to plant a kiss at your clit, holding your gaze all the while. Though the anticipation threatened to overwhelm you, you didn't dare break the stare as he lifted one leg so that it rested over his shoulder, before parting your lips gently with his thumbs and licking a stripe from your entrance to the centre of your pleasure, a groan emanating from his throat as you grasped his hair and pulled him in.

The best thing about androids, you soon discovered, was their inability to become exhausted. As he began to lick insistently at your clit, focusing on finding the right rhythm to make you keen against him, you found him to be totally inexorable in his efforts. The pleasure began to build, coiling thick and fast in your core as he became more insistent, eventually sliding a finger inside and humming softly as you threw your head back, moaning gutturally as one finger became two. The attentions on your clit never ceased, but his fingers began to move; slowly at first, testing the resistance, but then curled gently upwards in short strokes.

'God- Connor, oh my god...' you groaned, leaning forwards slightly and pulling his head in further still as your legs began to shake. The pleasure was starting to take shape now, building steadily into a release you'd fantasised about since that first meeting. Then, in the span of a millisecond, his fingers brushed against something that almost caused your collapse.

You felt him pull away slightly, and you looked down; 'Ah...' he breathed, stopping his motions for a moment. 'Found it.'

You shook your head in disbelief as he restarted his ministrations with a new vigour, honing in on that magical spot within you that could devastate the world from existence. Again and again he stroked and twisted, building the pleasure until it began to explode in your centre.

'Connor, I'm-'

But this warning was all you could give; he suddenly rested his free hand on the small of your back and tugged you in to almost sit atop his face, pressed into his mouth, and the assault on your core became too much to bear. You came with a shuddering cry, groaning as the waves washed over you and pulled you down into oblivion. He continued his affections through the aftershocks, stopping only when you lifted your leg back down and dragged him back up, sighing as you kissed him and tasted yourself on his tongue.

You only waited a minute before you dragged your palm over his clothed chest and down to his trousers, gracing your hand over the front before palming at him gently. As he grunted slightly, you grinned in satisfaction as you felt his hardness straining through the material.

'Is this all for me, hm? You get this hard just from tasting me?'

But you knew already that Connor wasn't one for submission; he placed his hand atop yours, guiding it upwards slightly to the cool metal of his belt.

'You feel what you do to me? You want more of what I just gave you, hm? You wanna take me, all of this? I can tell you're desperate for it.'

The belt slipped away, and you leaned back on your elbows as he dropped the remaining clothes to reveal... well, you hadn't been with many, but you weren't sure exactly how it would fit. He saw your surprise and smirked, drawing closer to you as precum beaded at the tip. 'You think you can take it?'

It was all you could do to nod, desire blazing wantonly in your chest. Your hair fell in front of your face as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him deeply, pulling away only to gasp for air as he eased gently in, stilling to wait for you to adjust to his size. He groaned as he slowly pushed deeper, thrusting gently until he was seated fully within you. You'd never been filled so completely before, so deliciously. You couldn't imagine what it would be like when he moved.

'Sh- shit...' Connor groaned, eyes closed and brow creased in pleasure as he rested his forehead against yours. 'I knew you'd feel good, so- so fucking tight. So wet for me.'

'All for you,' you whispered, sliding your hands down to grip his back, ghosting over his ass and pulling him in. 'Only for you.'

Then, mercifully, he began to move. The world faded away, including your care for anyone else in the office, as he pounded into you with a force and precision that left you breathless and gripping onto him for dear life. You were suddenly grateful for the office's - granted, somewhat limited - soundproofing as he pulled sounds from deep in your chest that you couldn't believe you were making, locating spots within you with dizzying accuracy. Again and again he brushed against something perfect, groaning as the pleasure made your walls clench around him.

'I won't last long if ya' grip me like that, baby,' Connor gasped, kissing you fervently. 'I want you to cum again first. Come on... give it to me.'

You couldn't have denied him the privilege if you tried. As he chased his own pleasure, breath shuddering against your mouth as the tightness of your building orgasm spurred on his own, you suddenly felt the wave rising again, threatening to pull you under. It was all you could do to bury your head in his shoulder, grasping onto the side of the desk as he thrusted at a dizzying pace. One, two, three, four...

The fifth thrust broke the tide, and it took you up and threw you back down into his arms in a crashing orgasm that crushed you from the inside out. As you clenched impossibly tighter around him, you felt his pace still as his own pleasure crested and he moaned deeply into your neck, kissing you with a satisfied groan as synthetic liquid burst deep into you.

Twenty minutes later, you'd both rearranged your clothes as a voice crackled onto your radio, heralding your return to your duties. It was easy to forget that you were there to do a job, not just to fuck in your office.

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SHIT he's so lovable

Connor, trying to fit in at an android/human relations event: I love beverages

Markus: Connor that's vinegar

I have a new obsession

Overprotective Steve has me in a chokehold

Untouched

18+ Minors dni

Virgin college Bucky x Virgin college reader (Steve’s sister) 

A/N: Wanted to write something with both Bucky and the reader learning together, will probably add another part cause I love them. Please leave all the comments, reblog and like! <3 

Warnings: SMUT, swearing, fluff

Word count: 4.2k hehe sorry 

Also part of this AU: Tongue Twister, Date night, Tipsy 

You trudged down the hall wondering why you brother had sent you an SOS text message, stating it was an immediate emergency at 12:30 AM forcing you out of the deep sleep you were in. You opened his room door, groaning at the ridiculousness that was taking place yet again this month.

Steve and his friends were in the middle of a very important Call of Duty game and given the seriousness, they had to have both hands on the controllers at all time.

Keep reading

Bucky needs to be dominated

Mine

18+ Minors dni

For my favorite persons writing challenge, you’re amazing @chrisdrysdale  Please reblog, like, comment and let me know what you think   💕  

Switch Bucky x jealous f reader

Prompt 42. “I need words baby boy”

Warnings: Smuttt, bit of switch Bucky/ slight dom reader, angsst, swearing, choking, some slapping, brief mention of daddy kink, fluff!!

A/N: I’m a sucker for hidden relationships sorry also I actually don’t hate Sharon, I just needed to think of a name

Word count: 3.4 k 

Bucky tiptoed down the hall cautiously, wondering if he should even bother knocking on the door. He knew damn well he didn’t even deserve the couch today, let alone sharing the bed with you. Maybe he should just set up camp on the compound lawn. He fucked up. He knew he fucked up the second it happened. He played his part well. Too well. His attempts to weasel out a conversation ended up with a foot in his mouth. Both feet. Might as well add a hand in there too, Bucky knew he should have stopped talking ages ago. He cringed and mentally slapped himself thinking about Tony’s party moments ago.

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I'm purposely snoozing my alarm to read this. So what if I'm late.

Live Stream

18+ Minors dni

Bucky x f reader, reader x avengers (platonic) 

A/N: My first piece of writing ever for the lovely @buckies-dolle’s writing challenge. I had so much fun with this!! I know its not amazing, I had 100 ideas I wanted to add. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Also please leave all the comments, would love to know what you think 💕🥺

Prompt: 29. Please what baby 

Warnings: Smutty smut (voyeurism, daddy kink, lil choking, breeding kink, unprotected sex) swearing, some angst (flashback with sad Bucky), Fluff! 

Word count: 6.7k It’s so long. I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t stop.

“Okay, seriously where the hell are they?”  Tony paced around the room, having lost contact with you and Bucky for over 12 hours. The mission was simple; retrieve a few files from an old inactive Hydra base, something you had done many times before. However, the long period of radio silence was starting to worry the team as they sat together watching the now blank screen that was previously sharing a live feed from the mission.

Keep reading

I fucking love Bucky with a passion.

Want You

18+ Minors dni 

Love this. This was literally in the works and then I see this request in the middle of me writing it, chefs kiss.  I love jealously, idk what’s wrong with me but it scratches an itch I cannot describe.

Warnings: FLUFF, pregnancy, Smuuttt (daddy kink, breeding kink,) angst if you squint but honestly not really. 

Word count: 1.6k

Keep reading

Madisynn is like drunk!Wanda with a valley girl accent, I love it actually

shoutout to madisynn for casually coming in & taking the title of being wong’s bestie from strange

CHRIS IS SO TALENTED

15K OF PURE FANFICTION DON'T TELL ME THIS DOESN'T HAPPEN IN ONE OF THE MULTIVERSES

No Strings Attached

Ex!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: “Every time you’ve called me, I’ve come,” Steve says, voice thick with hurt, and you clench your teeth. “Every. Time.”

Warnings: smut! language, hurt, exes to lovers <3

Notes: this is one of my fave oneshots i've ever written tbh. i really love the trope of people breaking up, because of xyz issue, and then the person with xyz issue actively works to resolve or change it, but with no expectation of reuniting, just because they want to be a better person. so ye, that's basically this whole fic lmao

Words: 15,849

You make a sort of doe-eyed blank expression as you listen, that makes your building’s security guard duck his head a little lower into your line of sight and wave his hand.

“Ma’am?” You blink suddenly, snapping out of your spiralling thoughts and focus back on the man’s face.

“Huh?”

He smiles sympathetically and repeats himself.

“I asked if you had anybody who might come stay with you tonight? Super said he can’t get a hold of anybody who can change your lock…” You sigh and look around him at your door, it’s lock busted and breaking through the wood of the door.

You’d arrived home to find it like that, although the cops the security guy had insisted on calling said that it looked like no thief actually made it inside, probably got spooked. Seeing as none of your stuff was stolen or out of place, you’d have said they were right.

You run a hand over your hair and sigh.

“Uhm. Yeah. Yeah I do.” You nod your head, not actually coming up with a name off the top of your head, but you’re sure you’ll think of someone once you have a moment to breathe. The security guard nods.

“Do you want me to wait until they get here?” You smile and shake your head.

“Oh, no, no… it’s fine! I’ll be okay until then!” You assure him. You know he got paid for every hour he spent on the door, and not for any he didn’t.

He checks with you twice more before he leaves, and you shut your busted door behind him, slipping your side table in front of it in the meantime before you fumble through your bag for your phone.

You stare at your home screen for a solid two minutes, mind going over the people you’d feel comfortable calling, who you’d actually feel safe having stay with you overnight, and for the life of you, you can only come up with one name.

Unfortunately, this name belonged to your ex.

It wasn’t as if you and Steve Rogers hadn’t broken up amicably, or at least, you hadn’t ended badly, but for a moment you debate with yourself on if you really need to call anyone at all. You think about sleeping, knowing your apartment door was basically open.

You bring up his contact.

The first thing you see is a list of past calls and texts, the date signalling that the last time you’d called him had been almost seven months ago, and for a moment your eyes linger on that.

Seven months? It hardly felt like it, really.

You and Steve had met through work. You worked in the forensics at Avengers Tower, and so you’d occasionally see each other when the team had lab work to be done. It had been a slow progression for him to ask you out, and when he had, the two of you dated successfully for an entire year. Things were always slow with Steve, due in part to his schedule making it hard to really get anything done. If he wasn’t on a mission, he was resting from a mission, and the times you did go out or see one another were a lot less than you would have liked.

It’s why you broke up.

Steve was a great guy, the best you’d ever dated, but his work was his first true love and honestly? You required more attention than he could give. You weren’t needy exactly, but when you made a plan, you tended to expect to follow through. Steve’s last minute missions, or his cancelling and rescheduling was understandable in his line of work, and if had only been every so often, you’d have been just fine.

But it wasn’t, and you weren’t.

And so… you’d broken up. You’d explained to him that while you really liked him, you just didn’t mesh well together. He’d been understandably upset, but had told you he got it. You’d parted on good terms, with only a residual sadness lingering behind. Even now, you felt a small jolt of angst at even seeing his name written. Really, Steve was your perfect guy, and if he’d ever been around, you might’ve been able to experience more of that perfection.

You shake your thoughts aside and tap the call button, bringing the phone to your ear and waiting as the dial tone rings out. You can’t help but chew your lip as you wait, anxiety beginning to well up.

What if he didn’t answer?

What if he was on a mission?

What if he saw your name, and then didn’t answe—

“Hello?” You nearly gasp at hearing his voice, seven months suddenly feeling longer than before and you swallow thickly to remember why you were even calling in the first place.

“Steve… hey, it’s uh, me…”

“Yeah, I… I have caller ID on this phone.”

“Finally switch from the flip, huh?” You can’t help but shoot back, smile covering your features when you hear his warm chuckle on the other side.

“Yeah, it was time to change things up… Is everything okay?” Maybe he can hear it in your voice, or maybe he’s just that confused as to why you’re randomly calling him at ten on a Tuesday night, but you hear a note of concern in his reply that makes you want to curl up into a ball.

“Um… not really, no… I got home a little while ago and someone had tried breaking into my place—”

“—What? Are you okay? Did they take anything?!” You chuckle awkwardly at his immediate worry.

“Yeah, no— I mean, yes I’m okay, no they didn’t take anything.” You assert, and can practically see him letting out a breath.

“Uhm… I do have a favour to ask though, and I wouldn’t call if I had anybody else, but—”

“—Of course, whatever it is, just let me know.” You let out a shaky sigh and swallow again.

“The lock on my door is busted, and my super can’t get anybody in to fix it until tomorrow… I just… really don’t want to sleep here alone, with a broken door…” On the other side of the line you can hear keys clinking, and feel your tummy flop in dangerous ways.

“I’m coming out now. You want me to stay on the line?” You could fall to your knees and praise every god in existence for the special kind of beautiful Steve Rogers was.

“No, I’m okay, I just don’t wanna be alone later…” You cringe a little at how that might sound like a proposition, but Steve only hums.

“‘Course. I’ll see you in ten.”

When you hang up, you stare down at your phone for a few seconds.

And then you promptly drop it, head whipping around your messy living-kitchen space and quickly get to work tidying it to a presentable degree.

—-

Steve arrives almost exactly ten minutes later, the light knocking on your door followed by his voice.

“Hey, it’s just me!” He says, and you hurry to slide your end table out of the way, your door pretty much swinging open by itself.

For a moment you can only stare at him, dark blue jeans, white t-shirt, brown leather jacket. He’d grown his beard out since you saw him last, thick and golden and groomed just right to hit you in the lady parts. He seems fixated on you as well, though recovers far more gracefully, eyes dipping to look at your splintered door and he whistles.

“When you said it was busted, you meant it huh?” He asks, and you laugh, a little awkwardly, pulling the door wider as you usher him inside.

“Yeah… cops said they must have gotten scared off before they got inside. None of my stuff is missing or moved.” You explain, closing the door behind him, and when he sees you move for the table, steps forward to help you, looking at your makeshift barricade up and down for a moment when you’re done.

“Good. That’s good.” You look up at him again as silence falls upon your apartment, and find he’s already looking back at you. Realising you hadn’t even changed from work yet, and you’d cried a little bit after discovering the break-in, you attempt to smooth your hair down and wipe any potential makeup from under your eyes.

“Jesus, I must look like a mess.” You sort-of apologise, trying to play it off with a chortle, but Steve shakes his head, smiling kindly.

“Not at all.” Is all he says, and you hate the fact the completely non-committal sentence makes your belly flop again.

“Oh, uh, can I get you anything? Coffee, tea? I think I have a six pack in the fridge…?” You gesture to your kitchen, but move for your fridge anyway, Steve shoving his hands in his pockets as he follows, shrugging his shoulders. You find the beer behind your salad, and pull it out.

“Well, I’m having one.” You tease, setting the pack on the counter as you attempt to pull a bottle from the plastic rings. Maybe you’re just too exhausted, maybe this particular plastic was just stronger than you, but it doesn’t budge and Steve steps forward, hands already out.

“Let me…” He offers, even as you let him take your chosen bottle from you, tearing it out as if it were nothing. It likely wasn’t, for him, and you swallow, the room feeling warmer suddenly.

“Thanks. Help yourself.” You nod to the pack, a little thankful he takes one too, placing the rest back in your fridge.

“I uhm, I might go shower and change, I haven’t even thought about that yet…” You gesture down at yourself again, and Steve nods.

“Whatever you need.” He tells you, and then points to your couch.

“Mind if I watch the game?” You frown, but nod anyway.

“Who’s playin’?” You both move over into your living room, and you quickly find and toss him your remote.

“Mets vs Giants.” He says, and you ‘ah’, watching for a moment as he flicks to the right channel, your eyes finding the score and you wince, turning back to him.

“Hope you don’t have any bets on your boys.” You say, faux-sympathy dripping from your voice. Steve gives you an unimpressed eyebrow, pointing at you.

“We’ll come back.”

“If it makes you feel better.” You tack on, but burst into a laugh as he rolls his eyes, making himself comfortable on your couch. You note with mild amusement he takes the same spot he would always take up, before you’d broken up. Apparently one of your couch cushions was just comfier than the rest.

You leave him there to go get cleaned up at last, and relish in the hot water as you do little more than just stand under it for ten minutes. Despite your stress from the past few hours, you feel oddly light, Steve’s sudden reappearance back in your life, in your apartment making you feel a little woozy, but only in a good way.

You try to tell yourself that it was only because your breakup had been so amicable, if he were any of your other ex’s you wouldn’t be feeling the way you do…

You dry off and dress quickly, throwing your hair up before stepping back out into the living room. Crossing your arms over your chest in some subconscious way of shutting yourself off to how damn good he looked, you take a seat on the opposite end of the couch, grabbing your beer again and tipping it back.

“Cops get the security footage from the hall?” He asks, one hand around the neck of the bottle he rests on his thigh, the other thrown over the back of the couch toward you, almost invitingly. You blink for a moment as you process his question and hum.

“Yeah. But it’ll probably get written off if the guy didn’t, you know, look straight into the camera or something. You know how they are.” Steve tears his eyes from the TV and looks at you with a frown.

“You get a case number? I’ll follow up tomorrow, make sure they—” Before you can really stop yourself, you cut him off.

“—Steve you don’t have to do that.” The blond shuts his mouth, and you can practically hear the words unspoken.

‘Because you aren’t my boyfriend’. For a moment you can both only stare, until Steve nods and looks away, his brow smoothing out as he relaxes, but the tick in his jaw tells a different story.

“Well, let me know if you need to…” You can’t help but smile a little, behind the rim of your beer, and you take another sip before turning back to the game.

The Mets make a comeback and you finish the night cursing under your breath. You weren’t a Giants fan by any means, but you made a habit of rooting for anybody going against the Mets.

Steve helps you pack away the light snacks and empty beer bottles, all the while wearing a smug grin, and you can’t even stay too annoyed. Smug and playful was always a good look on him.

As you put away the last of the rubbish, you yawn a little and check the time.

“I might head to bed… I’ll get you some pillows and stuff…” You announce, and ignore when he looks up at you in favour of making for the linen closet. You do however grab the pillow from your bed that you know he used to favour, and lay it all out on the couch. When you look up again, Steve is pulling his jacket from his shoulders, and laying it over the back of the opposite couch.

“Uhm, if you need to leave, could you just wake me up?” You ask, stepping back, and Steve frowns deeply, cocking his head.

“Leave? Why would I need to leave?”

“I don’t know… if you’re needed, I guess…” You shrug, shifting awkwardly and for a few seconds Steve’s face filters through a few emotions. Confusion, concern, offence, and then some sort of resignation.

“I— you know if you really needed me, I wouldn’t leave… right?” He asks, and you feel something stir in your chest. It isn’t exactly positive like all the other feelings you’d been having tonight, more like a sting of annoyance, of hurt and you purse your lips, shrugging again and looking to the side.

“I don’t know. You’re important, I’m sure people would need you a lot more than me.” You don’t mean to sound so passive aggressive, but you can’t help it.

He’d never made a point of making sure he’d be around before, the fact you even caught him on an off night is surprising to you. Steve’s brow dips and he opens his mouth, but you cut him off once again, pointing to the kitchen.

“Feel free to take whatever you want from the fridge, I’ll make sure not to sleep in too much… goodnight, Steve.”

You turn on your heel and don’t wait for a reply, shutting your bedroom door behind you. You know he can still hear whatever you do perfectly, so you don’t let out a sigh, or groan at your own fat-headedness, instead you switch off all your lights and settle under your covers.

In seven months you hadn’t felt out of place once in your room, but now, with Steve sleeping in the next room, your bed suddenly feels all too big.

—-

Strangely, despite your pass-agg comments, after that night you and Steve actually begin speaking again. At first it was just his texted check ups, making sure your door got fixed, making sure you were alright, making sure the cops did their jobs… it was sort of nice actually, to be friends with Steve again. He’d even shown his face down in forensics. You know his lack of attendance, Nat, Sam or Bucky showing up in his place, hadn’t been coincidental post your breakup, but the first day he shows up to deliver evidence for testing, you almost sigh at how much you’d missed seeing his face down there.

You actually think you become closer than you had been before, platonically that is. Steve doesn’t seem to make any moves toward rekindling your romance, and honestly? You were just fine with that. Steve was a great guy, but you couldn’t deal with his schedule… even if he did seem to be around more these days.

You don’t ask. You don’t even really think about it, instead chalking it up to good timing and coincidence.

You were wrong though.

Steve clinks the top of his glass with Sam’s as the man passes him his refilled drink, and the three men, including Bucky, settle back down around their seats on the Tower’s balcony.

“So, hey, can I ask you something?” Sam clears his throat some, and Steve cocks his head, gesturing for him to go ahead.

“You and Doc… are you guys like… getting back together, or…?” The blond squints, his face scrunching up a little as he looks off, sighing some.

“We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, but I mean, you went from not talking at all to hanging out again.” Bucky chimes in, and Steve shrugs, eyes finding his shoes.

“I don’t think she’s interested anymore. If friendship is all she wants, it’s what I’ll give.” Sam and Bucky make eye contact, sharing a frown between them and Sam leans forward slightly.

“Sure, but man, you changed up your whole shit for her… You don’t even wanna try again?” Steve sighs and finally looks back up at them.

“It wasn’t necessarily for her… but she was right. How am I supposed to foster any sort of relationship if I don’t make time for it? What we do is important, but I have to be able to prioritise other things. It’s not fair on anybody in my life.”

Bucky hums. He for one was glad Steve had taken a slight step back from the Avengers. Not only did it mean Sam and Rhodey were given more chances to lead, but it had upped the pressure on everyone slightly, in a good way. Previously Bucky would have felt anxious going on a solo mission with another member who wasn’t Steve or Sam, but now he regularly went on ops with Wanda, his bonds with other members growing immensely.

He clears his throat and reaches out to squeeze Steve’s shoulder some.

“I know how you felt about her, but I think you did the right thing.” Steve gives the dark-haired man a long look and a soft smile, ducking his head.

“What was that thing your Ma used to say?” He asks, and Bucky frowns a moment, before his face lights up again in recognition.

“‘Some folk only bless your life so you can learn from them’.” He says, and Steve hums, raising his glass.

“I’ll drink to that.”

—-

It’s late, you should really be asleep by now, but you’ve been lying awake for hours now. Springtime in New York made the night air warmer than you were used to, and the slightly hot feeling of your body was not helping.

You growl in annoyance and switch your vibrator off, tossing it lightly into the open drawer of your bedside table. Between your thighs your clit still throbs slightly, but you hadn’t been able to make yourself cum in the almost two hours you’d been trying, and your hand was going numb from all the vibrations.

You were damn near desperate. You needed to be fucked, good and proper and thoroughly. With only a moment's hesitation, you reach for your phone and tap out a text.

You up?

Steve: Is everything alright?

It’s fine. Come over?

There’s a minute or so where you see the three dots appear as Steve begins typing, before they disappear, and then reappear, only to disappear once more. You almost smile to yourself. He was unsure.

Come over, pleeeaaaseeee?

Steve: … Are you alright?

You huff this time, and purse your lips. You could be forward here and now, giving him an out, or you could wait till he arrived, which might be far less convenient for your pride if he rejected you.

I need you… please…

This time Steve doesn’t type and then retype his messages, instead you’re forced to stare at your read receipt for a full two minutes before a reply comes back, your body lighting on fire the second you process the four little words.

Steve: Be there in ten.

Anticipation builds in you like a storm, and you quickly straighten your sheets, spritz some perfume, fix your hair a little, and pull on a gown, all in time for the knock on your door. The sound is curt and tense and you swallow thickly as you hurry to answer it, sliding your locks back before swinging it open.

Steve stands once again in dark jeans, this time with a dark grey sweater on. His hair was slightly damp still, messy, and you figure he must have just gotten out of his the shower when you’d texted. His eyes find you quickly, a little wide, a little confused, and with all the desperation from the past two hours fueling you, you pounce on him.

You’re lucky he’s as stable and strong as he is, you throw yourself bodily at him, arms wrapping instantly around his neck, your lips pressing to his own hungrily and he returns in kind, one hand steadying you around your middle, the other tangling up into your hair at the back of your head. You almost mewl at the way his hand clutches at your scalp, and you let him walk you back inside, his foot kicking your door closed behind you.

You keep moving, until your back hits your kitchen bench, and you take the moment to pull open your gown, letting it fall to the floor as your hands move for his own sweatshirt. The fabric is quickly discarded, and you’re a little surprised to hear Steve’s groan at your skin on skin contact, his hands beginning to roam more adventurously now. You weren’t keen on messing around for too long, and you make quick work of his belt, letting him kick his shoes off before he shucks the jeans down himself, stepping out of them, all without pulling his lips from yours.

You sigh into his mouth as he captures your tongue with his own, bearing down on you intently, his hands holding you tightly against his own body like he was trying to pull you into himself. You let a hand drop from his face to the hardness against your abdomen and allow yourself to relish in the soft gasps Steve lets out when you pump your fist over him several times, before increasing your pressure, making him all out moan.

His lips fall away from yours, instead he trails sloppy kisses along your cheek and down your neck, pausing to adjust, widening his legs some. With your mouth free, you find the time to speak.

“This… this is just sex, alright? It’s not… it’s just sex…” You tell him, feeling how for a moment he pauses, and you dread it for a second when he pulls away a little to look down at you. His expression is unreadable, but he’s nodding soon, and you breathe out in relief.

“Gotcha.” Is all he says, and you’re forced to release his length as a moment later you’re hoisted up. Your legs wrap around him, even as you’re set on your countertop, and his mouth moves back to yours. It’s your turn to gasp when his hand drops between your thighs, fingers immediately dipping into the dampness at your core, a touch you’d been craving for too long.

“You really needed it that bad, you had to call me?” His voice is low, and you shiver. Steve’s bedroom talk was always amazing, and now, for some reason, the fact you weren’t even together makes it better. It felt dirtier, more obscene, and you nod, panting as he pulls his lips away from yours, his eyes falling to watch his hand slide from your folds.

You swallow, leaning back on the counter as he becomes more purposeful, two fingers prodding at your entrance, his thumb gravitating to your clit, already overstimulated. When he pushes his two fingers inside you, you let your head fall back and your eyes close, widening your legs even more to give him room to work as he begins slowly pumping back and forth.

“F-fuck…” You breathe, toes scrunching as his fingers move a little faster, curling them slightly to run along your g spot and you feel your legs start to quiver already. He seems to anticipate your squirming though, and uses his free hand to hold one leg, the other he keeps open with his own thigh, moving quicker now. A slower moment lets him insert another finger, and soon you’re clutching around his neck again, needing something tangible to hold on to as he strokes you to finish.

“Steve! Steve, fuck, don’t— please don’t— ah!” You try to catch your breath before you even lose it, but you only swallow down more air as you cum, your hips shaking involuntarily against his hand as he continues to ride you through it, thumb never letting up over your clit until your head lolls back once more.

You’re about to speak, praise him perhaps, when his fingers pull away, taking your hips instead and any words you have are punched out of you with the feel of his hands drawing you onto his cock. You scramble for a hold again, gasping and moaning at the same time as you wrap your arms tightly around his neck.

“Holy fuck…!” You whimper, Steve already curling his hips up and into you, all the while lifting you from the counter itself to bounce you against his standing lap.

He liked this, you remember, liked being able to hold you up all on his own, control the pace, control his movement and yours.

“That okay?” His lips move against your cheek and you nod vehemently, a hand carding through the back of his hair.

“Yes! Fuck, fuck, I need it!” You squeeze your eyes closed as he really starts setting a pace, and you feel that deep spot inside of you that hadn’t been touched in months begin to light up. Regardless of your relationship issues, Steve had always been good in bed, his body fitting into your perfectly, his desire matching up with yours similarly so.

“Yeah? You need it, baby? … shit, I’ll give it to you, sweetheart.” His voice is like molten honey, running over you warm and sticky sweet, and you can’t help it, you pout a little, nodding at his words.

“Please… please!” You whine. You know how much he loved to feel needed, in and out of the bedroom, but that didn’t mean your mewling was all for show. You’d finished once, yes, but you were so pent up you were still rearing to go and Steve’s cock pounding into you hurriedly was only spurring you on. You needed release and he was going to give it to you. Your mind always went a little hazy, a little blank when he’d have you like this, you’d do practically anything he asked, and he knew it.

“Come on, sweetheart, one more, wanna feel you squeeze me…” You whine again with his added words, his lips nipping your ear and you nod, face falling into the crook of his neck as he continues to pant and puff with effort. Your sounds start becoming shorter, more gasped and as he slows to level you with long, deep strokes, your orgasm rolls over you, gentler than the last, though powerful still, amplified by the feel of your cunt actually clutching, gripping onto something as your muscles tense and flutter.

Steve groans, keeps up the longer, slower strokes until you begin to relax again, and with little warning, pulls out. He presses his cock against your inner thigh, but pumps with one hand until he’s sighing airily, thick hot streams of cum streaking over your thigh and abdomen as you watch.

For some reason, all you can think about for a few seconds is how he’d never come on you before. Always inside you, condom or raw, and the change in behaviour confuses you for a moment, but you don’t intend on asking.

You both pant heavily, still partially leant against one another as you catch your breath, and you feel a slight awkwardness settle over you. Would things be weird now? Would he expect more from this? For a moment you have to admit it was nice being back in his arms, nice to pretend he was yours, but reality sets in and you cool off.

Even if he was still your boyfriend, he would never really be ‘yours’. Not while he shouldered so much of the world’s responsibilities.

Steve settles you back on the lip of the counter, and you jump slightly at how cool it feels against your bare skin. As you finally make eye contact, a pit opens in your gut. Steve after sex was always a sight to behold, his hair hanging in his face, his cheeks flushed red and his lips swollen and parted… it makes your stomach lurch in longing, and you quickly clear your throat, gently pushing him back so you can stand.

Finding your robe on the floor, you quickly pull it on despite the sweat covering your skin, and look back toward Steve, though you avoid his eye contact.

“Uhm, do you want to wash up before you go?” You know if sounds a bit harsh, but you’d made it clear to him before you’d properly gotten started that this was just sex. You couldn't bring yourself to expect anything more from him, and risk another broken heart.

Steve blinks, and you see a brief moment of hurt flash across his features before they harden somewhat, and he straightens, tucking himself back into his pants gingerly and collecting his sweatshirt.

“It’s alright, I… I’ll clean up at home.” He says, and you have to cross your arms over your chest at the tight feeling that begins constricting you.

“Okay.” Steve hesitates, looks at you a moment too long before he nods to the door.

“I’ll get out of here.” He says, sounding far more casual than he had a moment ago, as if nothing at all had just transpired between you, and you latch onto that ease, making it easier for you to play along too.

“No worries…” You trail him to the doorway, holding it open behind him as he steps through and turns around. His mouth is open, poised to say something but for some unknown reason you decide to cut him off, a hand shooting out to land on his arm, and you squeeze just a little.

“Thank you, Steve.” You want to cringe at the sound of thanking somebody after sex, but really, it was more about the fact for the second time in a row he actually came when you’d needed him… even if the second was a far more rival affair…

Steve blinks at you slowly from under his long lashes, in that dreamy way he does when he’s thinking something sweet or mushy, and again your insides twist. He only ducks his head further and swallows, a small smile pulling at his lips, far too innocent for the acts you’d just committed barely inside your doorway.

“Of course, uh, anytime…” You snort a little bit, rolling your eyes, but he gives you a final little wave before you shut your door behind him.

You’re left staring at your living room and kitchen counter, eyes fixated on the spot you’d been hauled up against just minutes ago. Your mind immediately begins the playback and you groan, remembering the mess still on your thighs and between them, suddenly more bothersome and uncomfortable than it had been previous, and you retreat to your shower, questioning yourself on if sleeping with your ex, who you’d only just begun talking to again, was a good idea.

—-

You walk in on Steve almost kissing someone.

It’s one of Tony’s parties, the big ones, where he invites everyone and absolutely insists everybody comes, even if he’s only on face-name basis with them. It was actually the first gathering you’d been to with the Avengers since you and Steve broke up, certainly the first since you’d started fucking again. It was good to see Sam and Bucky and the others outside of a work environment, and you think from their genuine smiles and the way Sam keeps talking you into one more round of pool, that maybe they missed you too.

You finally manage to duck out from under Sam’s arm, in search of a bottle of water, when you stumble into the private kitchen, where you’d been told the fridge was stocked full. At first your brain lights up.

Steve was in here! You’d hardly spoken to him all night! But then his hand registers, more specifically, the hip his hand is on registers, and your eyes suddenly piece together the scene before you.

A young woman, pretty, you think you know her from HR actually, leans with her back against the counter, her hands both wrapped around Steve’s biceps. One of his arms is around her waist, the other on her hip and they’re both smiling softly, if not shyly, heads so close their lips are barely apart when you accidentally squeak in surprise.

Steve pulls away instantly, even before he’s seen it’s you, and you realise that whoever this woman was to him, it was new. Steve was always a little skittish with PDA with new relationships. You’d seen it with Sharon, before yourself, and then again with your own relationship… and now with this.

“Oh! I—!” You feel your face go warm and you mouth wordlessly for a moment as you point to the fridge. The woman ducks her head in slight embarrassment and awkwardness and you do feel terrible, despite the wave of grief that overcomes you at the fact Steve was actually moving on.

Not that he wasn’t allowed to… you just hadn’t thought he’d do it first.

“Uh, just, water…” You stutter, suddenly feeling rather sick. Steve follows your pointing, even as you begin to move, avoiding his eyes. It shouldn’t be so weird! The situation the two of you had was strictly no strings attached! Steve was allowed to start dating, so were you! Still… that didn’t mean you wanted to walk in on him about to lay it on a woman that wasn’t you.

You rush out of the room with your water before anybody can gain enough sense to actually talk, and you tuck yourself back between Sam and Nat quickly.

You spy Steve and the woman leaving the kitchen a short while later, and though you don’t see even a bit of smudged lipstick or beard burn, your mind starts to whir in anger. But you know it's unjustified, and you curse yourself for being nearly a year out of your relationship, and still jealous. You consider breaking it off with Steve in the coming week, but your mind wanders back to the way he’d tipped his head back in a moan only days before, the thick column of his throat bobbing as he swallowed, his hands bruising on your hips as you rode him hard.

You decide instead that you’ll just act as if you’d never seen anything at all in the kitchen.

—-

Moving on is… hard.

Not necessarily out of some romantic idea that Steve was ‘The One’, in fact you’re more resolved against anything romantic with him now than you were before, more so because you were… picky.

Even if you lower your standards, every guy you seem to give a chance ends up firmly in your ‘no’ pile after a few dates or less. Most of the time it was because your interests didn’t align, you found them boring or you just weren’t attracted to each other, but occasionally one slips through.

Tom, his name was and Tom was nice. He was polite, handsome, you could talk about both shared interests and your jobs (he worked for the city morgue). Tom was good. You were still unsure of anything long term, or anything serious at all for that matter, but for someone to hang out with and occasionally be kissed by, you could do a lot worse than Tom.

He takes you out almost like clockwork every Friday or Saturday night since you’d met (that was four dates so far), you’d get dinner, maybe some drinks, walk around for a bit, and then he’d kiss you goodbye at your door. It was sweet. Tonight though, tonight you aren’t after sweet at all.

A SHIELD agent you know has her birthday, or maybe it’s a joint party? You aren’t sure, all you know is that it’s at a club, you look hot as hell, and if Tom doesn’t put his hands on you later you’ll burst at the seams.

The club is dark and loud, meant for dancing and drinking, not conversation and polite small talk, and the moment the bouncer sees you inside, you grab Tom by the hand and drag him along, a wicked smile thrown over your shoulder. You do the customary rounds, saying hello to people you know, introducing Tom. You even manage to figure out who the birthday girl is, and give her a hug. You’re aware when you lean over the table to do so that your already short skirt rides up further, and you’re aware tom is standing right behind you, watching.

You make sure not to drink much, you had plans for later after all, but you act a little giddier than you are, letting your hand linger on Tom’s thigh, holding on to him more than normal. You coax him out to the dance floor and that's where you get him. Hot bodies writhe to a beat, pressed up against one another, it doesn’t seem as obscene in the dark. You grind your hips back into Tom’s, his hands snaking their way around your hips and you smile, because you know.

In the dim light and through the throng of bodies, a flash of familiar stops you for a moment. Blonde hair, wide shoulders, beard, beer in hand, untouched… You swallow for a second as you make eye contact with Steve. He must have been invited too, must not have had a mission to go on to get out of it either. Before he can lift an eyebrow or do anything at all, you look away, wrapping your arms around Tom’s shoulders, you lean into his ear.

“Let’s get out of here.”

This… this had not been what you’d had in mind.

Your bedroom is lit only by a spare few candles that flicker your shadows against the wall, and you watch them absently for a second longer, before dropping to rest on your elbows, your body moving in the rythmeric back and forth each time Tom’s hips gently buck into yours.

He can’t see your face since he’s got you on your hands and knees, and you’re glad for it, because you’re not sure you could fake it even if you tried. It wasn’t that it didn’t feel good, it was just… you aren’t sure… he touched you like he wasn’t supposed to, and if you’re honest it felt less like he was having sex with you and more like he was just having sex. You could be anyone right now, and he probably wouldn’t care.

Tom pants and moans and then stops, his hips stuttering gently before he pulls out and away from you.

“Bin in the bathroom?” He asks, and you plaster on your best post-sex look, and nod, rolling over in time to see him disappear into your ensuite to dispose of the condom. When he returns, you go about cleaning yourself up.

“That was great.” He chimes, and you offer him a smile. At least somebody had fun, though you note a little bitterly how he hadn’t even asked about you. Maybe Tom wasn’t so nice.

“Yeah!” You enthuse. You already knew he wasn’t going to stay the night, he’d made sure to tell you as much before you’d begun. You pull on a gown and help him dress and gather his things.

At the front door he kisses you chastely, and tells you he’ll call in the morning. Mentally, you cross him off your list, and close your door.

You seeth while you change your sheets, getting angrier and angrier over your situation. You should have known from the start there was no spark with Tom, you shouldn’t have tried to kid yourself! And he should have at least tried to make you cum!

A quick glance at the time tells you it's not too late, and you send off a text, expecting a gentle refusal.

What you don’t expect however, is Steve arriving at your apartment twenty minutes later, angry as all hell, and he all but pushes past you when you’ve opened the door, coming to stand in your living room with his hands on his hips, his brow low and his lips in a thin line.

“Are you serious?” He asks at last, when you’ve stood staring at one another for long enough. He gestures absently, but his hand comes back to his hip.

“Wha—”

“—Don’t.” He says sharply, and you shut your mouth. This was different… you’d never really seen Steve angry before, let alone angry with you… it doesn’t at all help your current situation though, and you swallow, adjusting your stance.

“You know damn well I saw you leave with him earlier! I can smell the sex in the air. You haven’t had enough already tonight?” The words are harsh and hurt lances through you momentarily, before defensiveness takes over and you cross your arms over your chest, lifting your chin a little.

“Excuse me? Who I spend time with and how is none of your business!” Steve scoffs and looks off for a moment, a mirthless smile on his face.

“Right. But you still want me to fuck you after anyway.” The vulgarity is new as well, and it occurs to you in the back of your mind, that he must be really pissed with you.

“If you didn’t want to come, you should have just said no!” You say, your voice sounding a little more shrill and a little more crackly than you want it too. All your bravado aside, Steve was imposing when he was angry, and the fact that anybody yelling at you, let alone him, was enough to make you cry, gives your voice a shake you didn’t ask for. Not to mention that you really hadn’t expected him to show up at all, especially angry.

Steve looks back at you, his fuming expression not exactly subsiding, but it softens some, and he drops one hand from his hip to rub at his brow before he looks back up at you, more exasperated now than anything else.

“Why did you call me?” He sounds tired, but you know an olive branch when you see one, and you snatch it, stepping closer, ducking your head.

“Why do you think…?” You shrug and purse your lips before looking up at him again.

“He was shit. You aren’t.” His shoulders square just a little at your words, and you know it's a bit of a low blow, any guy was likely to be more inclined to having sex with you if you compared him positively incomparison with another man. Steve cocks his head, lids dipping slightly and you know you’ve got him hook, line, and sinker.

“Is that right?” You’re right in front of each other now and you let your hands wind up around his neck, playing demure as he fixes you with a knowingly amused look, his hands landing firmly at your waist.

“Mhmn.” You hum, nodding, shrugging once again.

“He didn’t know how.” You say, pouting as Steve dips his face closer to yours, and again you find yourself pretending that this wasn’t just sex, that these arms where ones you could be wrapped in whenever you wanted.

“Didn’t know how to what?” Steve asks, voice deep and rumbly in his throat, his breath coasting over your lips, and you lean in quick, nipping at his mouth chastley, feeling his hands tighten at your waist.

“Didn’t know how to take care of me.” Magic words, really. Steve is on you in seconds, mouth devouring your own, the warmth of him engulfing and you let yourself sink into the fever.

Perhaps some of that anger still simmers under the surface, because he fucks you hard, his thrusts just a little more pointed, his fingers digging a little deeper into your skin. His teeth nibble at your lower lip making you keen for him with another gasp as his hips snap against yours once again.

He’s covering you completely, chest to chest, his arms rest around your head, caging you in, and you grasp onto him wherever you can, hiking your thighs higher around him as he drives into you quickly.

“You know, if I wanted to make a point,” Steve begins, his voice raspy and puffed slightly, and you peel your eyes open to look at him, his face so close to yours it almost makes you cross-eyed.

“I’d not make you cum either.” He finishes, and you start, a slight wave of panic setting in, and you open your mouth to preemptively beg, but then he’s shifting, a hand sliding between your sweaty bodies, fingers pawing until they find your clit, and you suck in air sharply.

Steve wears a lazy but wicked grin, and he begins swirling his fingers over your bundle of nerves, dropping his face low enough that when he speaks his lips brush over yours.

“But I like watching you cum while I fuck you.” As your breathing shallows, Steve seems to swallow down each short breath, eyes never leaving your face as you quickly feel your release creep up on you, his harsh, deep strokes combined with the rough pads of his fingertips rapidly spinning circles and you’re falling.

Steve uses his body to hold you down, prevent you from shaking or jerking too much as you topple over the edge of release, your pussy clutching onto his cock even as he grunts, continuing to grind into you as you call out his name over and over.

He drops his face to your neck as your senses come back to you, your brain feeling light and your eyesight a little dimmed from the sensations. You know any second now he’ll pull out, jerk himself until he spills on your stomach or thigh like he always seemed to nowadays, but something ticks in your brain, raw and primal and you hook your ankles as best you can behind him, raking your fingernails over his back in marks that will disappear by morning.

“She tighter than me, Steve?” You feel his head start to lift a little, but you gently bite at his earlobe, stopping him.

“Does she feel this good when you’re fucking her?” Something switches then in the atmosphere of the room, he picks up his pace again, and you jump when one hand fists in the back of your head, pulling your neck back and away. Steve glares down at you, though his game is half given away by the grunt he gives a second later.

“Shut up.” He says, though it isn’t half as harsh as you expect, and he rolls his eyes some, dropping his lips down to your exposed throat now and you feel a thrill run through you.

“Does she let you fuck her like this or is it gentle missionary only?” You press on, yelping a little when teeth scrape at your skin warningly, and the hand in your hair tightens, pulling.

“Because you know I’d let you have me any which way… on my knees, under you, over you… fuck,” You pause, panting a little with effort as he fucks you even harder, each word punched out of you.

“Fuck, I’d let you have my ass if you brought the lube…” Triumph colours you as Steve  groans, gasping almost, his fist at your scalp a little painful as he curls his hips deep once, twice, three times more before you feel him finish, and he stills.

Your bodies are hot and sticky with sweat against one another, and you can feel him shake a little in his come down as he finally relaxes.

Like always, in the aftermath you’re both silent for a few moments before Steve lifts his head, his chest heavy against your own, and he fixes you with a unconvincingly unamused expression.

“Thought I told you to shut up?” He asks, shifting to hold up more of his own weight, and you pretend to not hear him, cocking your head.

“Towel?” He seems to relent, rolling off of you and sinking into your mattress as you hop up, moving to your bathroom to grab a spare towel.

When you return, you almost falter for a few seconds in the doorway, swallowing thickly. Steve lies on your bed, one arm hooked under his head, naked as anything, looking like he belonged there. Your chest lurches, and your stomach falls to your knees as you force yourself to keep moving, gently tossing the towel at him as you gather your gown once again.

You’ll shower when he’s gone.

“Really that bad, huh?” He asks when he’s drying his hair, his underwear now pulled up around his hips, and you sigh, smiling slightly.

“Honestly… I think I’m pretty forgiving, but he didn’t even try. I’m the one who had to suggest we change positions even!” It’s easy to fall into this routine with Steve, especially after you’ve both been satiated, but it’s not really a dynamic that exists anywhere else at any other time.

At work you were friendly but professional, around friends you were polite but never seemed to stray too close (neither of you wanted a particular redhead in your business), and you made a point of not hanging out outside of that. You were already sleeping together, that was more than enough. Anything more would just make you hope, and hope would only let you down.

Steve was still Steve. He was still the guy everyone turned to in a crisis, he was still the man on the ground nine times out of ten. You broke up for a reason, and you needed to keep that in mind.

Steve shoots you a wince and scrunches his nose as he pulls his shirt over his shoulders and pops his head through the hole.

“I’m sorry for… yelling.” He says after he’s pulled on his pants, and you frown, looking away.

“Don’t be… I probably shouldn’t have called you.” You say, missing the dip in his brows when you don’t look away from one of your flickering candles. Steve purses his lips as he threads his belt through his pants, but shrugs.

“You should just tell him, if you like him”

“Nah… I don’t think there’s much there for me anyway. I don’t know.” You wave him off and stand as he pulls on his jacket. This part was always the most awkward.

“Whatever you want.” He readies his keys and you move with him to the door. You always felt like you were missing something in your goodbye’s, but a hug or a kiss or a thank you was the exact last thing you wanted to do.

Keep it casual.

Steve pauses at your door, his expression unreadable and you fold your arms over your chest, flashing him an easy smile.

“Drive safe, Steve.”

“Goodnight. Sleep well.”

—-

“Wait, what?” You turn in your seat to look at your coworker Lucy, who nods, and finishes her mouthful of yoghurt.

“Yeah, right! Two in the morning and I’m getting calls to analyse samples as if I’m at the off—”

“—No, I meant…” You trail off, mind whirring, trying to think over the details you knew already.

“I didn’t know they’d gone on a mission…” You finish with instead, sitting back in your chair.

It wasn’t like you knew the Avengers schedule off my heart, or that it was your job to know everytime they left the tower. It made sense as to why Steve hadn’t been talkative the past few days though… Still, he’d confirmed that your ‘meeting’ was still happening this afternoon, even though you’d just gotten word that the team was landing in two hours.

Lucy chitters on until your half-day ends, at which point you quickly pack up your things and make your way to the elevator. You consider calling in to the upper floors, the residential ones, to speak with the man himself, but you decide against it. It wasn’t like you were a regular up there, it would be weird and raise questions, not to mention that given his recent return from a mission, he was likely in debriefings or writing up his reports.

You pull out your phone instead and send off a quick text.

‘Just heard you got in from an assignment… Do you want to reschedule this afternoon? I know you’re probably tired as hell…?’

Steve doesn’t reply right away, and honestly you don’t expect him too. You make it all the way home before your phone buzzes, and you find yourself staring for several minutes at the words on the screen.

S: ‘I’m happy to come over, if you’re still free. I’m totally fine.’

You send him a quick confirmation, but can’t help but chew on your lip. Part of you wonders why he’d bother. You know he was lying about being fine, super soldier or not, everybody liked their downtime after an extremely stressful few days, and coming to your ex-girlfriend’s house for a hookup wasn’t exactly that… then again, maybe he really needed his itch scratched. Who were you to judge?

You’d finished your day at two, which was nice, and you do a quick clean up of your apartment before Steve was set to arrive at four. You shower and change and throw a little bit of makeup on, finishing just as your doorbell rings.

When you open the door, you can see right away that he’d been lying about being fine. Maybe nobody else would notice, but you had spent a considerable amount of time around Steve, and you could pick out his undereye bags straight away. To anybody else he’d look completely normal, but his shoulders slump just so, his smile just a little too tight.

“Hey.” He greets as you step aside, letting him kiss your cheek as he enters. You don’t know when that became a thing, but it was something you’d seen him do with a few of his female friends, so you let it slip, knowing it wasn’t just you.

“Hey…” You shoot back, suspicion slightly etched on your words. Steve immediately rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he hangs his jacket on the back of your couch.

“I’m fine.” He tells you pointedly and you decide that you can’t be bothered arguing. It was his choice to come, if he didn’t really want to, then he’d have to deal with that like a big boy.

Casual conversation ensues, he asks about your week, you tell him the hot goss in the forensics lab, and then somehow from that very enticing subject, you end up on your bed, Steve hovering just over you, lips pressed hotly against your own. Despite yourself, not all your hook ups with Steve were hot and heavy and quick. You missed making out with someone, the build up of it all, and even though you told yourself it was dangerous territory, you went there anyway.

Steve’s hands trail slowly up your body, feeling you over your clothes, and then under. You get rid of his shirt fairly quickly, his shoes kicked off already, and not for the first time, you just relish in being held, the fantasy that this was real, and you weren’t casually sleeping with your ex-boyfriend. Steve plants his knee between your legs when you scratch at the back of his head, a groan following shortly after as his fingers work to find the bottom of your shirt and get it up. You part for only seconds when he pulls it over your head, throwing it to the edge of the bed. You hadn’t bothered putting a bra on, leaving you already exposed. Steve may be Captain America, a symbol of a nation and whatever else, but he was still a man, and the second he can, he’s got his lips pressed to the skin of your neck and rapidly descending, hands groping appreciatively at your breasts.

His mouth leaves hot kisses down your throat, over your chest, and you’re so ready to feel his lips take over from where his thumb brushes over your nipple when the doorbell rings.

You both pause a moment, Steve lifting his head and you groan, scrunching up your face as the bell is joined by rapid knocking. Steve smiles, cheeks a little pink, and shifts off of you, already reaching for the nearest shirt. It’s his, but you don’t think he’ll mind much as you slip it over your head and shoot him an apologetic glance as he makes himself comfortable on your pillows, placing an arm behind his head.

“Sorry, just… give me a moment…”

“It’s fine.” Steve waves off your apologies as you jog from the room to your front door.

It’s a package you have to sign for, but the courier brings up the wrong electronic form, and you’re forced to wait impatiently as his slow device loads the correct one instead. You’re trying to remain polite, trying not to tap your foot or your fingers, but by the time you’re closing your door again, you don’t even stop to look at what the package is, chucking it onto your couch and all but racing back to your bedroom.

“Just a courier, but while I’m up, do you want a be—” You cut yourself off, coming to a stop in your doorway, eyes landing on the sight laid out before you. Steve lays against your decorative cushions, shirtless, his arm no longer behind his head, instead now he’s curled on his side, another pillow stuffed between his arms where he squeezes it, eyes shut tight, mouth slightly ajar.

Your heart skips several beats, the urge to squeal at how adorable he looks only overruled by the odd stirring in your stomach at how much you missed seeing him in your bed. And then that thought is cancelled out by your guilt.

For Steve to actually fall asleep unintended, he must have been exhausted. You really should have insisted on rescheduling…

He stirs a little, humming softly and adjusting his hold on the pillow he was cuddling and you start. You should wake him up and send him home. You weren’t dating, you were only tentatively friends. You were just sleeping together, nothing else.

But you don’t.

Instead, you move to your laptop in the living room. You had stuff you could stand to get done. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

You end up logging back into your work server and ticking off several tasks on your to-do list, losing track of time in the process. It isn’t until nearly seven when you notice, at which point you send a glance back to your bedroom doorway, before pulling up your local pizza places’ online ordering site.

Steve wakes not too long after, his footsteps purposefully loud, and you turn again to look at him as he exits your room, scratching his head and looking for all the world like an embarrassed child.

“For someone who wasn’t at all tired and was totally fine, you sure did take a midafternoon nap.” You tease and he gives you a thin, apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry… I—”

“—It’s fine, Steve. Besides, I ended up clearing off my schedule for the week, so that’s nice.”

He still looks bashful, even as he takes a seat opposite you at the table.

“Do you want me to head out?” He asks, and you wave him off, standing up to move to your fridge.

“Nah. Unless you want to. But I ordered pizza a little while ago. Figured you’d be hungry. Beer?”

Steve blinks and you see him processing his choices, but he eventually nods, and you pull two bottles, cracking them open and handing one to him as you take your seat again.

“Beer and pizza isn’t exactly how I’d expected tonight to go, but you know, it’s up there.” You shrug, and Steve chuckles, shaking his head.

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?” He asks.

“I’m just saying, I’ve had some interesting sex in my time, but I’ve never actually had a guy fall asleep on me before…” You both laugh, and trade jabs until your food arrives.

Steve offers to get it, which you don’t protest, grabbing some plates and moving your drinks to the couch instead. You realise, when you take a look back at him handing some cash to the delivery guy, that you’re still wearing his shirt, and groan internally.

You change quickly, pulling on your own clothes, and chucking Steve back his own when you return to the living room. He’s sat in ‘his’ seat once again, and he only lifts an eyebrow at you when he catches his shirt, before pulling it on. You don’t even pretend to not stare at the way his body stretches and moves when he does, and he doesn’t pretend not to notice.

“You know, I was gonna ask for it back when I woke up.” He tells you as you both start grabbing slices to put on your plates.

“Oh?”

Steve ums, and settles back in his seat as you search for something to play on the tv.

“But I kinda miss seeing you in my clothes.” He says, and you pause.

You fight the urge to look at him, and even though your heart beats loudly in your ears at his confession, you try to go on as if what he’d said was totally normal.

“Um, have you ever seen this one?” You point to the screen, displaying the rundown of a show you’d heard some of your coworkers talking about, and Stev shakes his head.

“Clint talks about it, but I haven’t had the time.” He shrugs and you press play.

Eventually, you find yourself relaxing again, one of you occasionally piping up to chat some shit about how unrealistic or contrived the show was, and eating your fill (and then some) of pizza. It’s weirdly casual, in a way you truly haven’t felt around Steve in a long time, but just like when you’re doing far less casual things together, it’s easy to just pretend for a while.

You fall asleep on your couch sometime after midnight, and in the morning wake up in your bed, your living room devoid of beer bottles and pizza boxes, all the remains plated and covered in your fridge. You want to be angry at yourself for allowing your interactions with Steve to go beyond the physical, but you can’t.

For the rest of your day there’s a lightness in your steps and a softness to your thoughts, as you permit yourself this one, silly, selfishness.

—-

One pizza and netflix night turns into two, and then somehow your hookups with Steve become less about sex and more about the company. You still sleep together, of course, but more often than not, you’ll find yourselves too tired for anything. Steve sits on your bed and borrows your laptop to type up reports, and you beside him, a friendly distance away, scrolling through your phone or finishing the latest book you’d started.

You don’t think about it.

But it’s nice.

Natasha and Bucky stop by your lab on a friday night and subsequently invite you to join the rest of the group for drinks that evening. You don’t even feel hesitant to accept, and you don’t think about that either.

You can’t be bothered going home to change and then come back, so you head right up when you clock off. The team is already in good form, lounging around a set of coffee tables on the upper level, several empty bottles already littering the space. The huge glass sliding doors that lead to the balcony have been pulled wide open, and Sam and Clint stand at the grill, trying to out-fry each other.

“You look nice.” Steve tells you, greeting you with a casual half-hug. He foregoes the kiss on the cheek this time, and you don’t think about it.

“Really?” You ask, genuinely amused.

“I came straight from work and I feel like I’ve been sweating in this dress all day.”

Steve grins and shrugs.

“You look nice.” He repeats, eyes not leaving you until Nat calls your attention away.

“Geez Rogers, she’s been here for five seconds and you haven’t offered her a drink?!” The redhead teases from behind the nearby bar, and you laugh, playfully shoving Steve in the arm.

“Yeah, where are you manners?!”

Steve holds up his hands in defeat, still smiling, and you move with him to the bar.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you.” Natasha winks, and you wave a hand, letting her mix you some concoction you don’t catch the contents of.

“I may regret this in the morning but; I trust you.”

Nat only laughs again as Steve reaches over the bar to grab himself another beer, and you watch, unconcerned with who could be watching you. When your drink is made, you clink glasses, and move to where the others all sit. His hand grazes your lower back as you walk, but you don’t think about it.

Night falls and food is served. More drinks and more laughs, and when you’ve returned to the bar to fetch a couple more martinis for the fellas now crowding around the pool table, one Sam Wilson slides against your side.

“Good to see you make it tonight.” He nods, his signature grin spread across his face. You chuckle and shrug.

“I really needed to take a load off.”

Sam nods and looks over his shoulder as several cheers erupt from the ongoing game, before he’s staring back at you once again.

“You and Steve back on or…?” The question doesn’t totally shock you, but you still give a friendly scoff, and shake your head.

“No… Definitely not.”

Sam’s brow furrows and he cocks his head.

“We’re just friends again. That’s it. Steve’s a great guy, but…” You trail off, and shake your head once more. Sam shifts to face you and lifts an eyebrow.

“You guys aren’t subtle, you know that right? And I know you ain’t calling him to come fix your sink every other night.”

Your face grows warm and you roll your eyes.

“So what? Doesn’t mean we’re together. We just know each other. It’s comfortable.” You shrug and Sam hums in a disbelieving way.

“Look, Steve is… Steve. He’ll always be more tied to his work than anything, or any one else, and that’s fine. I just know I can't expect more from him than… this.”

Sam watches you for a moment, eyes searching your face until he looks away, nodding his head, relenting.

“Whatever you say. I’m just saying maybe you should give it another go… with the three of us now rotating leadership, things might be different.” 

You frown at that, as Nat finishes with the drinks you’d asked her for, and cock your head.

“What do you mean ‘the three of you on rotation’?”

Sam sideyes you.

“Steve stepped down as our sole guy, like, a year ago now. Rhodey, he, and I take turns. We got a week each on rotation.”

You blink at the information, and wonder why Steve had never mentioned it before.

Him stepping down as the Avenger’s go-to leader was… a pretty big deal. Actually, you’re kind of shocked by it. Steve had always been, as long as you’d known him, unable to walk away from a fight. If a situation was going down, he had to be there, at the front taking charge. It was literally the reason you’d broken up. He didn’t know how to take a break, and in his life, you’d always be second, maybe even third priority.

Sm nicks one of the drinks in front of you, and you half-heartedly scold him for it as you attempt to carry the other three back to the pool table, Steve putting his cue to the side and stepping up to help you when he notices.

Sam’s words continue to spin around your brain as you settle back in to watch. It isn’t until Bucky elbows you gently in the side that you realise you were being spoken to, and you blink around.

“We were saying that we forgot to set a prize for the game.” Sam re-explains, and you hum.

“I said maybe you’d give the winner a kiss.” Bucky adds, his face clearly joking, but in that ‘only joking if you are’ way.

You scoff and roll your eyes.

“Jesus, what is it? 1955?”

Bucky shrugs and sips at his drink. He’d always been a flirty drunk, not that he was drunk-drunk, but his serum seemed to affect him in slightly different ways to Steve. If he really tried, he could get a pretty decent buzz.

“And besides, I doubt Steve would see that as much of a prize, and last I checked, he was wiping the floor with you chumps.” You wave a hand and Sam cackles. Steve lifts an eyebrow at you, catching your eye.

“Don’t be so sure, sweetheart, a prize is a prize.”

You hardly hear his words, it's his expression that draws you in, makes you forget about the company around you. The air feels hot all of a sudden and you really wished you could drag him off. You shrug.

“Well maybe I’ll give you something else if you win.” 

If the others pick up on anything other than friendly banter, they thankfully choose not to mention it, simply laughing and moving back to the game. Steve’s cheeks tint a little pink, but he throws you a wink when he takes his next turn, and you have to laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity.

Steve holds the lead for two rounds, but Bucky, fuelled by Nat’s martinis, makes a comeback, and as the final scores are tallied, he leans in, tapping his cheek expectantly. It’s all in good fun, and you roll your eyes for the hundredth time, but make good in your promise of a prize and instead grip him gently by the chin and plant a quick kiss to his lips. Bucky lifts his drink in achievement, and you playfully shove him away.

“I’m sure Freud would have something to say about that.” Steve says teasingly, plopping down beside you, and you scoff.

“Nobody listens to Freud, and you and Bucky aren’t actually family.” You almost add that you and he aren’t actually dating either, but you stop short. Steve throws you a grin and relents.

“You finish that book yet?” He asks, referring to the Freud book in question that you’d been halfway through the last time he’d been over.

You shake your head.

“No. And I don’t think I will. I can put up with a lot of batshit crazy things, but I draw the line at him.”

Steve laughs, and takes a swig of his beer. A thought occurs to you then, and you turn to face him, squinting.

“Did you lose on purpose?”

“What?”

“The game. Did you lose on purpose?”

Steve blinks sheepishly at you in the same way he did when he was formulating some kind of believable lie, and you roll your eyes, smacking his arm.

“You’re so full of shit!” You laugh, watching him shrug and shift awkwardly.

“I didn’t want you to feel awkward.”

You sideye him with another huff of laughter.

“I mean I offered, in front of our friends, mind you, to give you a blowjob if you won… how awkward did you think I felt?” You watch Steve’s cheeks light up again, and he shakes his head, rolling his eyes at you this time.

“Was that what you meant?” He asks, as a sort of recovery, but you can see he’s still a little flustered. You chuckle, and lean into him, resting your hand on his upper thigh and squeezing just slightly.

“Maybe next time.” You wink, and watch his expression shift, his eyes flickering down to your lips briefly, and you just know he’s imagining what would be happening right now if you weren’t surrounded by at least ten other people.

Again, you feel the urge to drag him away, but you keep your cool, leaning away from him and removing your hand as Tony and Rhodey make their way over to the couches.

As the night wanes on, Steve’s arm ends up over the back of your seat.

You don’t think about it.

—-

“Are you sure you don’t have anything better to be doing?” You ask, a little exasperatedly.

It wasn’t that you weren’t thankful, but Steve was too good to know when to say ‘no’. Not that you’d even asked him, he’d offered and then showed up at your door bright and early anyway, regardless of your non-committal answer.

He just shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Day off.” He tells you. You squint. You know now thanks to Sam that he wasn’t lying, but it still makes you squirm a little.

“Well, whatever. Don’t come complaining to me about splinters.” You snark, moving ahead to inspect the branches of the next pine tree along.

Steve pouts.

“But you know those tweezers are too small for my fingers…”

“Oh, what a hard life, Steven! You never get sick and are basically invincible… except for those damn pesky tweezers!”

Steve nudges you in the side, as you laugh.

“Don’t let the bad guys know about that.” You side-eye him and he gives you his best puppy-dog eyes.

“You’re the only one who knows my secret.” He says, with over-the-top sincerity.

“I trust you.” He adds a moment later, and you snort.

“Well, that sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

You continue to sass and snark at each other as you walk down the rows and rows of trees, not even really looking at the pines, until you realise that an hour is probably too long to spend tree-shopping, and pick out the nearest half decent one.

Steve carries it to his car, as he’d offered to do in the first place, and you strap it up tight before getting in.

The conversation flows easy and light on the drive back, and when Steve’s phone rings, you switch instead to staring out the window at all the Christmas lights and decorations the city had put up in preparation.

“Hello? Oh, yes…?” You can only hear Steve’s side of the conversation, not blessed with super-hearing like he was, but you turn your head, intrigued when he seems to falter.

“Today? Well I… in twenty minutes? Oh, um…” He looks over at you, a frown pulling at his brows.

“If you need to stop somewhere…” You whisper, waving a hand to confirm you were okay with the detour, and he shoots you a tight smile, before setting his eyes back on the road.

“I can do that, no problem. Okay. Thank you. Bye.”

“What was that about?” You ask immediately, curious now that you were seemingly being dragged along.

“I had to get a suit altered— for Tony’s christmas party on the weekend…” He begins and you ‘ah’. Tony had declared all attendees go all-out. No jeans were allowed, it was supposed to be a strictly formal event.

“But the owner of the store just realised my appointment clashed with her flight out of the city this afternoon.”

“So we’re going to pick it up?”

“Yeah.”

You hum, and nod, fiddling with the radio now as you drive past the turn off for your place. Steve had promised to help you carry your tree inside, and given the time, it would probably take too long for him to make his appointment if he took you home first. You didn’t mind though.

The tailor he’d chosen wasn’t some fancy, high end retail store, but you never expected it would be. Instead, Steve holds open the door to a small, mom-and-pop type shop, with dark wooden interiors that just screamed old-school class. You enter and promptly take a seat in the showroom as Steve is whisked away to try on his suit for a final inspection.

You’re staring mindlessly at your phone when he steps back in, a little awkward, clearly asking what you think.

“Well, well, well Rogers… So you do clean up nicely after all!” You tease, standing and moving closer as he rolls his eyes at you and faces the mirror. You watch him smooth down the suit jacket, looking a little self-conscious if you’re being honest, but then his eyes find yours again in the mirror.

“You’re going, right?”

You nod, shrugging your shoulders a bit.

“I think Tony would have my head if I made up an excuse… and I kinda like christmas parties… dressing up, mistletoe and all that.” You wave a hand, and Steve turns back around to face you.

“Come with me.” He says, breathily, like he’d been holding the words in for so long he just couldn’t keep them anymore. You freeze, staring up at his hopeful expression, feeling for all the world like your veins had suddenly turned to ice.

“What?” You can’t help but ask, and the blond shifts on his feet, lifting his chin a little more confidently this time.

“Come with me. To the party.”

You aren’t sure how you hear him so clearly when your heart beat thunder loudly in your ears, and suddenly, the walls in the room begin to close in on you. You shake your head with a frown and take a step back from him.

“W-what? No, Steve, I…”

Steve straightens a little, his brow furrowing now and you struggle to speak, panic rising in your chest.

“Steve, we’re— we’re just friends. This isn’t— we aren’t dating!” You stress, still shaking your head, and still stepping away from him. Steve ‘s jaw sets a little and he gets that look on his face like when he had something to say, but he knew it would be incendiary.

“Maybe not, but I don’t think we’ve been just friends for a while now, and you know that.” He says instead, voice tight, and you suck in air sharply.

You knew this was a mistake.

You knew doing anything outside of your agreed-upon interactions was dangerous, and yet, like an idiot, you’d gone there anyway.

“Steve— I am—” You lower your voice somewhat, remembering where you are, and hold out a hand.

“This, what we’re doing now, this is fine. Nobody gets hurt, it’s fun and—”

“—Who's getting hurt exactly?” Steve cuts you off, and you barely refrain from yelling at him.

“Me! I am not going to sit around, waiting for you to find the time to see me! I’m not doing that again. I’m not playing second fiddle to your job!” You explode, immediately pulling back at the flash of grief that lances across Steve’s face.

You look away from him and rub at your temple.

“Every time you’ve called me, I’ve come.” Steve says, voice thick with hurt, and you clench your teeth.

“Every. Time.” He repeats, and you finally bring yourself to look at him.

“I am sorry that the lines got blurred. But I am not—” You stutter a little, choking on your words, but you clear your throat.

“I cannot do this again.”

And you leave.

You run away, because it was less scary than whatever Steve wanted from you. Less scary than opening yourself up and getting hurt like before.

And you were an idiot for it.

You hate yourself for crying when you get home, sans christmas tree now, and a big part of you is glad Steve doesn’t follow you, or try to call. A bigger part of you cries that he doesn’t, and at the fact that despite trying to keep things casual, keep him at arm's length, you’d gone and gotten all tangled up anyway.

It was a mistake.

You knew from the start, but you can’t even revel in your own self pity for too long, because soon enough you’re coming to your goddamn senses.

You were a complete and total bitch.

Steve had hurt you, yes, and maybe springing a date on you like that wasn’t the best way, but even you aren’t dumb enough to not notice his change. He had hurt you, and then he’d changed. He’d taken a step away from leading, to be more present, to be more around, and he was right, he had come every time you’d needed him, for whatever reason. He’d kept your scheduled meetings, even when he was dead tired and really could have called them off. 

He’d done everything you could have asked for.

And you hadn’t even asked for it.

—-

Your nerves nearly consume you when you step through the doorway and into the open space of the residential floors. Tony had gone just as nuts with the decorating as you’d imagined. Not a single corner of the room looked like Christmas hadn’t thrown up all over it. Yet, even your love of this time of year couldn’t trump the anxiety that rolls back over you as you look around the room.

You’re actually glad that you can’t spot him right away. It lets you relax, greet other people, ease into the nerves you feel. Besides, if your little meltdown had sent him back into the arms of whatever-her-name-was, you might just be sick.

The jig is up however, when Sam Wilson slings an arm around your shoulder, bright smile betrayed only by the knowing glance he gives you.

“Didn’t think I’d end up seeing you tonight.” he says casually, leading you toward the bar, and you shrug as best you can.

“I’ve got to grovel at some time. Christmas party seemed dramatic and cinematic enough.”

Sam gives you a sympathetic look and squeezes your arm.

“He isn’t upset with you.”

“He should be.” You say, shaking your head and dropping your gaze.

Sam sighs and removes his arm from you so that he can signal the bartender.

“He’s upset with himself.”

You roll your eyes.

“Of course he is. Cause he’s so damned good.” You kick the bar lightly in frustration, and sink a little more into self-hatred. Sam slides a shot of clear liquor toward you.

“Courage.” He says, tipping his own back seconds later, and you relent, plastering on a tight smile before pouring the contents of the glass down your throat.

It burns, and fills your nose with the distinct taste of vodka, and you scrunch up your face, Sam laughing at you when you put your glasses back.

“I’d like less courage next time.” You tell him, and he shrugs.

“I doubt you’ll be saying that in five seconds.” His eyes skip over your shoulder and you frown.

“Wait, why?” A quick glance behind you makes you panic, wide eyes finding a grinning Sam once again, who is already slinking off.

“Sam!”

It’s useless though, he’s gone in seconds, and quickly you become very aware of the man who’d come to stand a small distance away from you at the bar. Biting the bullet, you swallow thickly, and turn to look at him.

Steve looks much like he had the last time you’d seen him, which really only makes your stomach churn more in memory of the way you’d acted.

“Hey…” You greet, worried perhaps he might ignore you, even though you know damn well he could hear you over the crowd. But he doesn’t, eyes swivelling to find your like it was what he’d been waiting for. He gives you a conservative smile and nod.

“Hey.”

The one word alone, filled with so much simple sadness makes the damn break, and before you even realise what you’re doing, you’ve stepped right beside him, hands wringing in front of you.

“Steve, I am so sorry. What I said— I was just— I was a bitch.” You finish lamely, but he only looks down at you, slightly bewildered, as if he really hadn’t expected you to say anything about what had happened.

He turns in to face you, feeding off of your distressed body-language, one hand coming up to touch your arm, and he looks around concerned for a moment before back at you.

“You wanna go somewhere else…?” He asks, and again, you wallow in self-hatred at the way that he so quickly seemed ready to defend your clear anxiety. You swallow, and nod, letting him lead you away from the bar.

He guides you through familiar rooms just as decked out and just as full with people, until you reach a small, quiet staircase, one you know leads up to the private floors.

You’re well aware of how long it had been since you’d last stood in his apartment, and it only spurs your nerves on more. Maybe you should have waited… maybe the christmas party wasn’t the ideal time…

“As far as I’m concerned, you have nothing to apologise for.” Steve says, which only makes you scoff, rounding on him where he stands.

“Steve, you’ve got to be kidding!”

He only shrugs, sad eyes turning down and you sigh.

“Everything I said was… I shouldn’t have said it. You were right. Things haven’t exactly been ‘casual-hookups-no-strings-attached’ for a long time.” You fiddle with the hem of your sleeve and shuffle on your feet.

“I… I like what we had. Just… hanging out. You’re… you’re so easy to be with, and I like that, Steve. I never feel like we’re on different pages, you always get me, you’re great in bed… I— I like being with you, so much…” You pause and take a shaky breath.

“And I know that you’ve been trying. You’ve… frankly, you’ve changed more than I was even asking for back when—” You cut yourself off and shake your head.

“My point is. I’m sorry. I was a bitch because having you in my life in some way is better than not at all, and if things ended the way they did last time, I wouldn’t be able to even look at you— Am I even making any sense?!” You drag a hand over your hair and sigh. Steve moves toward you, slowly, and you force yourself to look at him.

“Yes.” He says, stopping just in front of you.

“I think.” He adds a moment later and you can’t help but laugh. You shake your head.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, and watch him stare at you, before nodding.

“Thank you. I’m sorry too.” He says, though you can’t even imagine what for right now.

“Is it too late to retroactively accept your invitation to the party?” You joke, and his face breaks into a smile, a light chuckle leaving him.

“I think so… Didn’t get to pick you up or anything…”

You click your fingers in an ‘oh shoot’ gesture, and Steve grabs your hand before you can drop it again. You watch as slowly he brings it to his lips, kissing the backs of your fingers.

Your breathing gets shallower at the action, and you wonder if him bringing you here, to his private rooms, was really a good thing after all. You rescind your earlier thoughts. You’re glad you didn’t wait, you’re glad you decided to do this during the Christmas party.

He pulls you closer in a way that feels only natural, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t have to pretend that any of this is real, you don’t need the fantasy.

Steve kisses you long and sweet, his hands firm and secure where he holds you, a silent promise. You think it feels different to how he normally holds you, but you think it’s probably just in your head. You bite at his lower lip, pulling on it just slightly, and his chest rumbles, his hands moving then, squeezing and pawing at you, feet blindly guiding you, moving towards his bedroom.

Clothes are peeled off and set aside, when you try to move atop of him, he only grabs your wrists, trapping you in place against his mattress, and you don’t even care. Steve was here, with you, in his room, and it was real.

He has you face down, pillow raising your hips slightly, his body draped over yours warm and heavy, sweat slicked and firm. Your thighs are only just parted, enough for him to slip inside you, so close, so deep you think you see stars with each thrust. He moves slow, arms caged around your own, hand splayed out against your throat, lifting your head up and back so he can kiss you as he moves, taste each moan he creates as he creates it.

You feel overwhelmed and utterly saturated in him, picked to pieces and pulled apart, his cock sheathed so deep, his weight bearing down on you, you’re drowning in him.

He kisses the back of your neck and shoulders, resting his forehead against you as he picks up his pace, driving faster and deeper, your desperate words of filth and want muffled into the pillow you hold tightly. You think your nails might’ve ripped a hole in the fabric, but you aren’t sure.

You come together, heady cries filling the air before dissipating into heavy, breathy sighs. He doesn’t leave you, stays right there atop of you, still inside you as you both come down. He kisses along your spine again, sweeps some hair out of the way to reach your neck, and that place behind your ear.

“Am I too heavy?” He asks a moment after, voice muffled in the skin of your shoulder, and you laugh, shaking your head, and peering up at him as best you can. He was atop you, sure, but his arms still held most of his weight, never too rough, always just enough.

“No. I like it.” You say, feeling a little shy. All the times you’d slept together, in a relationship, and out of it, this felt real, like all else before was just practice. Steve shifts his hips a little and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Yeah?” He asks, eyelashes fluttering just slightly. You nod.

“I like when you’re here… like this. And you don’t hold back on me.” He lifts his head a little and raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t think I’ve ever held back on you, when you’ve asked.” He reminds, and you hide your face, laughing into the pillow.

“Well maybe sometimes…” He admits, likely referencing all the times you’d beg him for ‘harder’ and he’d adjust his angle instead, already fucking you as hard as he felt comfortable with.

After a few seconds, he lets up a little to allow you to roll over, though he still hangs over you, chest to chest.

“I never liked leaving after.” He admits, dropping his lips to your cheek.

“I hated going back to my own bed, knowing you wouldn’t be with me in the morning. I don’t think I’ve ever said it but,” He lifts his head again and you stare up at him.

“Waking up with you in the mornings after we’d stayed together, it always felt like a battle to get up and leave. I always thought ‘today I don’t need to run. You can take a break’.”

“But you never did?” You wonder, and see the regret flash over his features.

“I should have. Maybe not all the time, but… I should have.” You purse your lips and try to catch his guilty eyes.

“Steve… I never wanted you to completely overhaul your life. I still don’t want you to do that. That part of you, the part that wants to help people and be there for them, I love that. It’s what fundamentally makes you you.” You push back the hair that hangs on his forehead and sigh, tracing the edges of his face now instead.

“I don’t care if six out of seven days a week you need to get up before me, as long as I have that seventh day…” His face softens from the self-judgement you could see reflected in his features and you smile.

“I just… I don’t know, I want to feel like at least a bit of a priority. I know that’s not always going to be possible, I get that… but…”

“I know. I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t.”

“And last-minute cancellations should be the exception not the rule!” You joke, and he hangs his head again, but chuckles against the crook of your neck.

“Understood.”

You lay like that for a while, just relishing in one another's presence, feeling your chest’s rise and fall against each other. When he moves next, it’s because his phone buzzes loudly on the bedside table, and you watch him reach blindly out to grab it.

You play with the hair on his arm as he checks the message, the amused sigh he gives off a second later heavy against your chest.

“It’s Buck,” He tells you.

“Says the fellas are getting ready for a round at the pool table…” He trails off as another message comes through, and this time you see him roll his eyes, and chuck his phone to the side.

“He wants to know if you’re going to kiss the winner again.” Steve’s voice is amused still as he finally crawls off of you, and helps you up. You both know you can’t, and shouldn’t stay locked up here all night.

“Well, I tell you what, Rogers, you don’t go easy on Barnes again, and I’ll give you what I promised last time.”

For a moment Steve just frowns in confusion, but as it slowly dawns on him, a challenging, determined glint fills his eyes.

“Better start keeping score then, sweetheart.”

Bucky is so cute wtf.

win you over | bucky barnes

bucky x fem!reader

warnings: adult content minors dni (mxf intercourse, dirty talk, bathroom sex??) swearing, mentions of death, guns, slight mention of ptsd

a/n: special shout-out to @everybirdfellsilent // @kyberblade bc as always u hype me up and now i’m posting this. HOPE U ALL LIKE IT!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Bucky? You nearly ready?” He hears your voice outside his door, and nearly trips over with how fast he moves to let you in. When he swings it open, your eyes take their time, travelling his suited figure up and down. “Damn. You clean up nice.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” He manages, seeing the thin material shaping every curve of your body. “Good thing I can throw a punch. Might be beating off more than Hydra agents with you in that dress.”

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His voice is literally so sexy??

bucky is back<3

I VOLUNTEER! I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE

Imagine flirting with Tony & Steve

Gif submitted by @yourtropegirl

“Agent Y/L/N will be helping us gather some much needed intel, her expertise is along the lines of-”

“-waterboarding in the most friendly way possible,” you walked into the room and nodded at Fury.

“So we’re torturing people now. Fury?” 

You looked over to Captain America and smiled at him, “Steve Rogers as I live and breath. My father was a huge fan, me not so much. The costume is a little much, yeah?”

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Sebastian Stan everyone.

I don't think I've ever read something so real, so angsty and so beautiful at the same time. I know it's quite literally fanfiction, but I think everyone can learn something from this story; no matter how hard life gets, never give up. There will always be someone there to love and support you every step of the way.

As It Was III: True

Summary:  The last chapter of As It Was, told from your perspective.   

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N:  Thank you for all your support! This is, so far, my favorite (mini) series I’ve ever written. I’m so glad to have done it. I hope you liked it as much as I did!! 5.2k word count. Angst. Healing. A lot of Bucky love. 

You haven’t always been soft.

It used to be hard and fast, scorched and salted earth, with your troublesome heart throwing you headfirst into every fight. In the past, your recklessness was a running joke with the team after they lost you in Alaska and upon the third hour of searching, Steve and Bucky came upon a burning semi with you standing nearby, shuddering in the polar night.

They had rushed forward, grabbed the back of your suit and tore you from the truck before it could explode. In-between clipped and frozen breaths, you screamed, It’s dark as shit! And cold! I had to set that thing on fire! You found me, didn’t you?!

Did you have to? Bucky rolled his eyes as the vehicle burst apart, blazing shrapnel whizzing through the black, or did you want to?

Steve snickered, pulled you in for a sloppy kiss. Baby, you’re a mess.

It used to be a bruising kind of love, raw and open, and all for Steve. He saw and knew every facet of you from every angle, even the ones you hid away. You let him dig inside of your rib cage, wrap himself around your heart, and sleep in your blood until you couldn’t untangle which part was you and which part was him.

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Postpartum depression is real and you perfectly described it. Shout out to all the mummies who fought through mental illnesses and staying strong. Shout out to all the mummies who don't need men for shit. Shout out to all the mummies who fight for their lives, giving birth. You guys are the real superheroes.

As it Was II: His Girl

Summary: You haven’t always been his girl. Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader A/N: ANGST! Thank you for all the feedback and love! As it Was will be a 3 part series. Part 2 is told from Bucky’s perspective. See you next time for Part 3 :)

It’s always relief that washes over him first when he pulls into the road, seeing the house the same as when he left. The pinwheels, the mailbox, the swing you shove him into even though you know he doesn’t fit.

His playful girl with a stubborn streak.

It’s been two weeks without his girl and his home. He’s been on longer missions, but two weeks is two weeks too long, just as they all are.

The second emotion he feels is anticipation. Excitement for the embrace he’ll give and receive. The kisses, the fingers through his hair, the knowledge that you will be rushing downstairs and into his arms.

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I think I'm crying.

As it Was

Summary:  Sam warned him when he arrived at the compound, returned to the timeline he ran from: It’s different now, she doesn’t do the superhero thing anymore, she’s got another life now, but he wouldn’t listen. He can’t. He must hope that some things are the same, that your love is the same. Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader A/N: ANGST. Re-written Post-endgame kinda thing because I’m bitter. 3.3k word count. Very inspired by Hozier’s “As it Was” :^) 

As it Was Masterpost

There is a roadway.

The tires crunch over rock and gravel as Steve drives down the familiar path. Flanked by overgrown grass and wildflowers in full bloom, insects flutter around the petals, sunlight glistening on waxy blades of green. He can smell it, even inside the car, ignited in his nose and blazing into his chest.

The smell of summer. The crushed earth beneath muddied boots.

He can taste the watermelon sugar, tingling on the sweet tongue encased in an even sweeter mouth.

Your bright pink lips wet with cold bites of fruit. He loved the way you would collect the smooth seeds and pinch them between your teeth. He loved the way you’d spit them into his face—silly with joy under the shade of a tree. Too slow, baby!

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Steve is the only man who can manhandle me like this

Idk why but I have this theory that stevie boy prays when his girl is going down on him.

a/n: this took so long! i hope you like it, i feel kind of rusty with writing lol. enjoy the catholic guilt <3 1.5k words of deepthroating & Please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

“blessed”

He’s got it bad.

He stuffs it behind his stern face and resilient body and a collected, competent demeanor but at the heart of it, in his heart, Steve is truly, embarrassingly, a lovestruck boy and intimacy is a hurdle he’s having a hard time clearing.

He doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s always afraid he’ll lose control, so he keeps it as vanilla as fucking possible and it is probably driving you just as crazy as it is him.

But then you kneel down in the middle of the floor and there’s nothing he can possibly hold on to, he thinks you must be out to kill him.

You tell him he’s pretty, and that he’s got these gorgeous, long legs, and when you start kissing up his knee and rest your face at the crease of his groin, his head is so cloudy he might as well be floating.

He’s smack dab in the center of the kitchen this time, condemned to yet another instance of helplessness. His hands have nowhere to go, and he begins to stutter for alternatives, but you shake your head, already on the move.

He shudders. You want him and you can’t wait another second. You want him here, now, with your bare knees on tile, the pre-heated oven and its dinner plans shelved for later because you. want. him. And that’s the end of that.

You begin unbuckling his belt, fingers pulling apart the leather, unclasping, unzipping, and then you lift your mouth off him long enough to let the denim fall to the floor.

He groans, already beginning to breathe harder, his abs flexing as you nose your way up one thigh. You sigh as you go along, eyes shut as if trying to concentrate on the mere scent of him. You take deep breaths, moan lightly, and the barest hint of a smirk begins forming on your face when you press your forehead to him and murmur, “I want it so bad, Steve. I’d let you keep me like this all night for it.”

His entire body jolts and he thinks he should get more furniture just for the safety of surfaces alone. You don’t seem bothered by his muteness—you’ve done this so many times with your special talent for making him ache all over with just a few dirty words. He’s stil learning how his body can move now that he’s in love—now that he feels safe giving himself over to someone.

You slip your fingers over his erection, fully hard now because you look like that.

“I love the way you smell.” You breathe him in, rubbing at him like a cat, lewd and devoted in equal measure. “Love how it feels on my face.” You show him, looking up now, your cheek pressed against the curve of his shaft, eyes reflecting of the overhead light and his own breathless face back at him.

“You’ll let me suck you here, right?”

His head falls back, tongue flicking out to wet his lips as the heat in his face runs down his neck and chest. Why do you have to say things like that? Why do you have to make him feel so much?

You mouth the tip of his cock, tongue lapping at the damp spot of precome through fabric before taking it in, as if you could put him in just how he is. He’s so hard at the entrance your warm mouth, your breath huffing over his cock, the cotton layer catching moisture like an inescapable wall keeping him from feeling the rest of you—but it’s hot. It’s so fucking hot and you keep on doing it, suckling and moaning and grabbing at him. You pant, watching his expression, taking in how he responds.

He worries the heel of his palms to his brow—but he can’t help staring. Can’t help the way he keeps twitching every second. Can’t help the low whine that falls out of his mouth when you finally spring him free and let him bounce on the tip of your tongue.

“Baby you’re leaking,” you tease, flicking at the slit where he dribbles out, “Mmm, it tastes so good.”

“Christ,” he grunts, face burning.

You grin, giving him a firm suck, and then a soft kiss at his tip. You show him your wet, pink tongue, your open throat. And then you swap all that chatter for work. You take him in, easing him past your back teeth, his cockhead rubbing at the entrance of your throat, pressing into the soft muscle there as it grips around him weakly.

Your eyes roll back and— you look— so pretty.

“Oh, god…Oh, hell..”

You keep your jaw slack and bob your head steadily as if suggesting that he take the lead. Your hands cup his sac, rolling the sensitive skin between two fingers, letting the rest lie in your other palm. He feels so completely taken, all of him, warm and encased and throbbing.

To your delight, he slowly begins rolling his hips. Experimental at first, half-hearted and worried about startling or choking you, but at the first reflex of a gag, your eyes light up before fluttering half-closed and you practically mewl.

Fuck.

He pulls away, “Sorry—I’m sorry—” but you grab him by the back of his thighs and swallow him down, opening up more, letting the saliva collecting around his dick dribble out down your chin. You look so easy and vulnerable, entirely receptive to however he wants to use you.

His cock is pulsing, making squelching sounds as it rubs against your tongue and slicks itself up with spit, pushing some out with every pull. You’re arching your body into the correct position for him, and he places one hand on the back of your neck to hold you steady as he tries to get—ah, right there, just a little more—

He practically shouts when he stuffs himself into your throat. The tip of your nose is pressed into his groin, chin warm on his balls as he shifts, feeling crazed about it all. The resistance, the squeeze of your muscles—he reaches around to your neck and blindly feels for the bulge his cock is creating.

“Holy shit,” he blurts, “holy fuck, holy fuck, baby—that feels so good—oh my god—oh fucking god.”

And then he starts spinning off in his head, all his Catholic upbringing like an unstoppable flood—those stupid prayers for serenity and grace—lead us not into temptation—racing across his mind because if he doesn’t cling onto something he’ll lose it completely. He’ll choke you—he’ll choke you over and over with his cock and he’ll love it.

There are tears in your eyes, but you don’t pull away and you don’t make him stop. Your fingers are digging into your legs, but you keep looking at him, asking silently for him to see—for him to notice how much you want him like this, all the time.

The noise is filthy when you yank free, and you look wrecked, leaned back on your haunches. Your breaths are ragged and weak, and you bite at your lips in a daze.

“Again,” you say quietly, hoarse. “Please, again.”

And all those prayers flit away. He forgets every sacrament. The only blessing he’ll ever need is you, uttering again.

He shoves himself back in, forcing a loud gag out, and he feels insane for it—feels utterly crazed for more of this sensation. Shocks are sprinting up and down his spine, his toes are curling, his body tense and loose at the same time. He doesn’t want to stop feeling you, doesn’t want to stop seeing you attached to his cock, worshiping it with your tongue, tears brimming in your pretty eyes from the effort.

“Your fucking throat,” he grunts, too rough now with his hand on your head to force you down, but unable to stop, each thrust bringing him closer and closer. “Fucking incredible. So—dirty—you naughty fucking girl."

There’s spit everywhere. Down your shirt, long lines of it dripping from his dick to your mouth when you gasp for air. Your lips are swollen so pretty and bright.

Steve hauls you up, bullies you against the nearest surface and fingers your cunt until his fingers are coated. He gets behind you, makes you taste your own pussy, and then fucks his way in, choking off your cry with his hand.

And it doesn’t take long. You squirm and clamp down and sob when you come, and Steve barrels headfirst into it soon after, his cock pulsing and unloading inside.

“Steve,” you gasp, turning your head to mouth at him instinctively. He’s still hard, fucking gently into you.

He paws at your breasts, your face, belly, feeling every inch of you now that he’s cleared this hurdle. Now he knows what he wants, knows how to get it.

His cock is filthy with slick and semen. He’ll need you to clean it off.

“I’m not finished yet,” he says, certainty firmly in his chest. He smiles into your hair, pulls out slow and sloppy and fingers the inside of your mouth. He'll do exactly what it is you wanted-- what he wants, too.

He’s gonna keep you here all night.

Bucky, probably : YEAHHHH STEVIEEE !!! GET THAT DAME !!! PROTECTION DURING WAR AND LOVE !!!! REMEMBER ALL THE TIPS I GAVE YOU EVEN THOUGH I HAD ABSOLUTE NO FAITH IN YOU GETTING GIRLS!!! NEVER DOUBTED YOU, MY STEVIE BOY ALL GROWN UP!!!

Steve, to the USO girl : i have no idea who he that man is 🙂. stfu Bucky

“Steve Rogers lost his virginity on a USO tour in 1943”

Bucky:

SHIT IT'S EXACTLY THE SAME PICTURE HAHAHAHA

I'm going insane. I'm going feral. WHEN WILL THIS HAPPEN TO ME

  toxic & jealous

synopsis: bucky is fed up with you going on shitty dates so he finally does something about it.

pairing: bucky barnes (roommate) x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: 18+ ONLY. jealous bucky, shitty date, possessive bucky—he’s actually kind of a red flag but it’s fine, teasing, dirty talk, bucky is beefy and tall af, so much sexual tension, lots of kissing, oral (receiving), fingering, protected sex, praise kink, heavy size kink, pet-names, idk if i missed anything

notes: felt kinda slutty and this happened

“Where are you going?” Bucky asks, folding his arms over his chest.

His brows are furrowed tightly, a look of concern and confusion coating his face as he watches you apply your lipgloss in the mirror. The bathroom you both share isn’t nearly large enough to accommodate you both, so Bucky has no choice but to lean against the doorframe.

“A date,” you shrug casually, puckering your lip before dipping the wand back for another coat.

Your eyes meet Bucky’s through the mirror briefly as you try to focus on your makeup and not the hole he’s boring into the back of your head.

“With who?” The line of questioning doesn’t stop as you groan, closing the tube of gloss and chucking it into your small purse.

“Just a guy I met.” You’re keeping things as nondescript as possible because you know Bucky.

Your last date didn’t exactly go smoothly, but that wasn’t because of any you did. No, in fact, it was entirely Bucky’s fault and you continue to remind him of the fact.

Things were going great until you invited your last date back to your place, opening the door only to be greeted by a brooding Bucky who looked like he had murder on his mind.

And truthfully, who wouldn’t be afraid of a nearly 6’6 man built like a Greek God glaring at you like you’re his best victim. Safe to say your date didn’t stick around as soon as Bucky opened his mouth and explained all of the ways he could hurt your date if he fucked up in any way.

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked and you rolled your eyes as you scoffed.

“Bucky.” You tried to warn, “we’re just going to grab some dinner, okay?”

Nothing you said seemed to calm Bucky down, his jaw clenching before he forced himself to relax. He stepped out of the doorframe so you could exit, grabbing your heels before grabbing onto Bucky’s thick arm for balance as you put them on.

“I just don’t understand why you go on these dates, it’s not like these guys are good enough for you.” Bucky grumbles under his breath as he wraps his arm around your waist to offer more support as you slide the second heel on.

You chuckle, shaking your head, “maybe that’s because you scare off anyone who tries.”

Bucky just shrugs as if there’s nothing wrong with his behaviour. Despite being your roommate, he acts more like a protective father to you. No one is ever good enough for you, that he’s made clear.

“I’ll be back soon, don’t wait up for me.” You say, giving him a wild smile as his eyes blow wide.

You don’t linger, running out the door and closing it shut as you hear Bucky swearing on the other side—some of it not even English as you laugh to yourself before stepping into the elevator.

_____________________________________________

What a total fucking bust of a date.

Bucky was going to love this at least. He won’t be a huge grump and maybe you’ll be able to talk him out of hunting this guy down. Although, you probably wouldn’t try so hard considering he was an absolute asshole.

The second you’re through your front door, the heels come off and you let out a groan of relief before chucking your keys and bag onto the small table by the entrance.

“So, was I right?” Bucky emerges from his bedroom wearing nothing but a loose, low hanging pair of sweatpants.

It takes you a moment to tear your eyes away from his broad chest, but you manage.

“Yes, fine. You’re right, no one is good enough for me.” You sigh, grabbing a glass of water before leaning against the counter.

Bucky mimics your position, folding his muscled arms over his chest. His prosthetic gleams lightly under the soft light of the city, but little else is illuminated in the apartment.

You let out another defeated sigh, “maybe there’s something wrong with me. I don’t know.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow at your words again as he takes a few steps towards you as you watch him, placing your glass on the counter behind you.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard come out of your mouth. And I’ve heard a lot of dumb shit come from those lips.” Bucky smirks, his words oddly putting you at ease.

“Yeah? Well then why can’t I ever get a man to stay?” You retort back, feeling that awful pit in your stomach you always get when you think about your love life.

Bucky moves closer and you think he’s going to stop when he’s right in front of you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s nearly pressed up against you as he cages you in with both of his hands on either side of you.

Your breath catches in your throat slightly at the proximity and the way Bucky’s scent washes over you. It’s so deep and rich you want it to stain your bedsheets, but he can’t even know that.

“Do you really want to know why, sweetheart?” He asks and you notice the way his voice has dropped an octave or two.

You swallow thickly, inhaling a shaky breath as you nod your head as your response. You know that your words would fail you right now, especially with the dark, hungry look in Bucky’s eyes.

He looks away for a second, taking a deep breath before his eyes are locked on yours. His tongue runs across his bottom lip and you think your heart might fail you at any moment.

“Because I’m a selfish bastard,” he says. “I drive every man away because I’m a selfish, jealous, arrogant asshole who can’t stand the thought of another man’s hands on your body.”

His confession sends a jolt through your body. The rawness of his words mixed with the raspiness of his voice as he’s just mere inches away is enough for you to feel lightheaded.

“It’s because I want to be the one who makes you laugh. Who’s there for you, who knows you better than anyone else, and who makes you come so fucking hard I ruin men completely for you. That all you’ll want is me.”

You gasp at his boldness, mouth forming a soft ‘oh’ shape. You’ve crossed some sort of boundary and you know there’s no going back now. You’ve fucked up this relationship.

Might as well ruin it some more.

“What else do you want to do to me?” Your question comes out meek and small, voice shaking, but Bucky smirks at your words.

He cocks his head to the side, nearly perfect teeth on display before he’s leaning into you so he can whisper into your ear.

“I’d rather show you, baby. I’m better with my hands than I am with my words.” He purrs, lips brushing your earlobe and his breath is hot against the skin of your neck.

You nearly whimper, knees almost buckling as you mutter a silent fuck under your breath without even realizing it.

“Would you like that, baby?” He asks, almost mockingly with a small pout as his eyes lock with yours again.

“Would you like me to show you all the ways I dream of touching you? About the things I think about when my hand is wrapped around my cock late at night?”

The heat between your legs is beyond extinguishable now unless Bucky gets his hands on you.

“Yes.” That three letter word is all Bucky needed to hear before his lips are on yours.

The kiss is hot and desperate, his hands trying to feel and touch every inch of you as you do the same to him. Sinking your crescent shaped nails into the freckled skin of his shoulder as you lose your breath over this man.

He’s pulling you off the counter, large hands splayed on your waist and hips as you both messily stumble through the dark apartment until you’re standing at the threshold of his door.

Bucky makes it look so small, but he looks like a wild animal with his dark eyes and heaving chest as he looks down on you like you’re his next meal.

“I want you on my bed so all you can smell is me while I’m buried deep inside of you,” he says, chest rumbling as he pulls you into the room.

There’s no need to close the door, but he does anyway. Shutting it with his foot while he hungrily kisses you again. And he’s all you can think about, your heart beating to the tune of his name.

It’s not romantic, there’s no candles or mood lighting. Bucky’s bed isn’t done and there’s a pair of boxers strewn on the floor you both manoeuvre around. Still, you wouldn’t change a thing as Bucky rips your clothing off one by one until they join his.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he murmurs, dropping to his knees so he can wrap his lips around your nipples.

You moan when he sinks his teeth into them, grabbing his hair to keep him anchored to you.

“No man deserves you, but I’m going to do my best to prove my worth to you.” He says against your hot skin as he presses a hot trail of kisses down your stomach until he meets the line of your panties.

He looks up at you one last time, as if asking for permission before his hand in pushing you back onto the bed. His fingers hook into your panties, dragging them down before throwing them over his back.

Bucky’s hands spread your legs further as he leans in and your mind is dizzy and fuzzy when his hot breath fans over your core.

“Just relax, let me make you feel good, baby.” Bucky purrs in a cocky, confident tone as you let your head fall back onto the mattress.

His kisses are warm against your inner thighs and you’re squirming until Bucky delivers a soft bite that has you gasping and looking at him.

“If you can’t stay still I’ll have to tie you up, sweetheart.” He winks, nose nuzzling the top of your mound and you’re about to start begging.

Bucky delivers a long lick and you lock your legs tighter around his head. He takes his time, carefully mapping you out in his head and taking note of what makes your toes curl.

“Fuck,” you curse, grabbing onto his hair as he teases your entrance with a thick, cool finger.

He adds one, then another, and then he curls them and you swear you’re about to meet your maker because no one has ever figured you out this quickly. If ever.

“You’re so sweet, Christ, baby.” Bucky groans, “I’m already fucked addicted.”

You moan, feeling your orgasm quickly approaching as his continues his motions with his fingers and mouth in tandem together before you’re falling apart.

It hits you out of nowhere, back arching off the bed as Bucky keeps you anchored with a thick arm over your waist.

“Oh my God.” You pant, unable to get any other coherent thought out.

Bucky smirks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he crawls over you until his lips are back on yours. He moans when you wrap your hand around his clothed cock, grinding it against you before he has to stop you.

“You keep doing that and I’ll come in my pants, baby girl.” He groans, almost in pain as he squeezes his eyes shut tightly.

You’re breathing just as hard as him, if not harder, as you watch this giant, huge, man coming apart all because of you.

“Bucky,” you say his name in a questioning tone.

He looks down at you, meeting your eyes and you know just how much he’s holding back. You know he wants to rip into you…and you want it too.

“Fuck me.” You whisper, barely audible as Bucky’s eyes flutter closed and he buries his head in the crook of your neck.

“You’re going to kill me, baby.” His words are muffled, “I never thought I’d hear those words from you.”

Bucky makes quick work of his pants, not wanting to waste any time before your eyes widen and you can’t tear them away from his cock.

“I-I, uh, Bucky I don’t think you’re going to fit.” You stutter, still in a trance.

He cocks his head, licking his lips as he grabs a condom from the bedside table. Your body moves for you, inching up the bed and getting comfortable against the pillows because you need to know how Bucky Barnes fucks.

“It’ll fit, sweetheart. We’ll make it fit.” He cooes as he finishes rolling on the condom and settling over you again.

You don’t doubt him either, watching him spurt lube over his length as he gently nudged your your legs apart.

“You look so good like this; spread out underneath me.” Bucky purrs, his nose tracing along your jawline as you feel him line up with your entrance.

You wrap your arms around his neck, beckoning him closer to you as he pushes in slowly.

“Shit,” Bucky groans as you gasp out a moan.

You’re both entirely consumed by each other as Bucky slowly pushes in, stretching you out inch by inch.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby.” Bucky whispers, kisses being peppered to your neck.

It’s not painful, but the stretch can definitely be felt as his hips rock against yours. When he’s fully seated, you can feel his hand cup your face as you manage to open your eyes.

“Feel that, baby? That’s it, so fucking deep inside of you.” You whine at his words, trying to lift your hips up and create some sort of friction.

Bucky takes mercy on you, circling his hips before pulling out and thrusting into you. It shakes the bed, the headboard rocking against the wall as the bed springs creak under your combined weight.

Nothing in this world is more important than this very moment and you hope it never ends.

You feel Bucky’s hand run down your sides before he’s placing it on your lower stomach. You’re confused at first, but when he adds pressure, it’s a whole new type of pleasure.

“That’s how deep I am, fuck, baby. And you’re taking all of me like the good girl you are.” Bucky praises as he continues to rock his hips against you.

You know he can feel you tighten around him, because he just slightly changes his angle until you’re crying out for him.

“I know, I know, sweetheart. Don’t hold back for me and come for me.”

Your legs tighten around his toned waist, holding him close to you as the coil snaps and pleasure fills you. You’re acutely aware of the way Bucky’s hips stutter before he stills completely inside of you, panting against your neck.

“Get comfortable, sweetheart.” Bucky smirks, a light sheen of sweat on his face, “because we’ve still got all night ahead of us.”

I have a breeding kink and I'm proud of it.

it’s Me again… back with another breeding kink fic.

anonymous asked: Can you do another breeding kink Bucky??😭😩💞

His hips stutter with wild jerks, lurching your bed and its frame into the wall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chokes, cheeks flushed and jaw clenched. “You can’t say shit like that, baby.” His hands dig into your skin bruisingly, an animalistic fire he’s resisting alight in his dilated pupils. “‘Cause I will. With the way your tight pussy is squeezing me, I’ll fill you up until you’re dripping for days after, and there’s no doubt you’re knocked up with my kid.” 

in which you beg bucky to cum inside you. (includes breeding kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex.)

—

As it turns out, the sperm of a super soldier is especially potent. Which means regular ‘ole birth control doesn’t work like it’s supposed to, and for that, specially modified treatment has been given to you.

Yes, the very serious and dangerous S.H.I.E.L.D agency has created a shot so that you’re able to fuck your superhero bareback without the threat of a child. The only catch is re-upping; it lasts a year, but there’s a month needed before you can get your next one, something about needing to give your reproductive system a break from the chemical.

It’s a difficult month, becoming harder and harder as the weeks wined down.

Of course, you use condoms but there’s a mutual disdain for the material. Plus, it’s not the same—that barrier between you, unable to be as close as possible with him, the emptiness of not being filled until you’re dripping. But, thankfully, both of you have made it through and there’s only a few days left.

However, for good measure in the last week, you’ve been staying with Wanda and Natasha. Speaking of who, the couple are throwing a housewarming, no longer compound-bound, and his attendance is iffy. It’s understandable considering just thinking about him has you ready to explode.

Not to mention, it’s a pool party, and you’re wearing a saucy bikini.

“So when are you and Barnes gonna pop one out?” Natasha speaks casually, a wine glass between her fingers, curled up with her girlfriend on a lounge chair where they both watch you help set up. “Something tells me you won’t want to wait a whole year. Him, especially.”

That’s an understatement. Your man has chronic baby fever but in a respectfully adorable way. In the past, you’ve been apprehensive about offspring but he’s so optimistic and supportive you’ve definitely come around to the idea. “Soon, actually. Banner apparently has created a six month shot,” you tell her, absentmindedly folding a complimentary towel.

“Oh, yeah. How are you two doing on that front? You have a couple of days left before you can shack up again, right?” Nat’s eyebrow arches when your hands fumble and drop a towel at a mere reference to sex.

“Yes,” you answer after a steady breath, and you bend over to retrieve the textured cloth. “Seventy-two hours. It’s good he isn’t coming to your little thing ‘cause I think he’d maul me and vice versa…”

“Oh, Bucky,” Wanda’s pointed, mildly amused voice sets your spine rigid. “Hey! How’s it—”

At your fiancé’s name, you abruptly straighten up and spin on your heels. In a blink of an instance, he’s closed the distance—six foot form towering and determined, and the ravenous look in his eyes tells you what he’s going to do.

Your eyes widen, and you point sternly at him, uncoordinated steps backward. “Wait, wait—!” you try but his arms are latched onto your waist and hoisting you over his shoulder. Everything is upside down: a smiling Wanda and waving Natasha fades as he strides into the house.

Keep reading

When I thought it was gonna end, IT BECAME BETTER WITH A VENGEANCE

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Following Orders

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Plot: Bucky is always grumpy, so you've resorted to being aggressively bossy. But he will show you what following orders really looks like.

Warnings: 18+. Smut with a plot.

Words: 4,8OO

A sharp hiss comes from the man before you and you clamp your thighs around his ribs tighter to steady him, the air pockets from the storm that make the plane shake and dip through the sky already making it hard enough to finish your sutures on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Would you sit still?” you snap at him and grab his shoulders to pull the open wound closer to you and make it easier to see what you’re doing. In a plane, with minimum light and a diminutive amount of supplies to help your colleague with – a colleague that never manages to ever crack a smile, especially not towards you – your current situation pretty much sucks.

“Would you just let the serum do its job?” he sneers back, but lets you pull him closer anyway as he drops his head back down, his elbows resting on his pulled up knees.

“I think it has proven to not do its job, don’t you think?” you snarl and wind the needle through his flesh again, finding it harder and harder to be careful if he keeps snapping at you like this. But your reasoning seems to shut him up since all you can hear now are small groans from the back of his throat when you tug at the torn skin.

The healing powers the serum usually served Bucky with, have abandoned him and you have a feeling it’s because he has barely slept in the past two weeks and your current mission is an assignment from hell that has lasted longer than any of you anticipated.

Yesterday, a fish hook back at the harbour had made a gnarly gash into the flesh of Bucky’s shoulder and you’d never heard him roar like that before. However, once he saw you, he quickly composed himself and made sure the two of you got out of there and onto the nearest jet. That’s where you got clear instructions from Steve to make it to one of the safe houses on the other side of the world. Why so far away, you had no idea, but you assumed the team had to split up because the intel Steve and Natasha were after gave them information that could harm the entire team.

This whole ordeal seems far from over.

So now you’re stuck on a jet for ten hours with Bucky sitting down between your legs and you situated on one of the crates in the loading space as the jet navigates through the storm on autopilot. It’s been four hours and you had slapped Bucky over the head when you realised that his wound hadn’t started healing yet at all, activating autopilot as you grabbed Bucky by his jacket and dragged him back. You were surprised that in spite of his whining and grumbling, he didn’t use his superstrength to stop you.

You’re confused that the serum could ever even heal a wound like this since you’re sure the tissue was stretched too far. So to prevent infection and improve the self healing, you offered – well… forced – him to let you stitch him up. One glare of yours and Bucky decided not to fight you on it. Besides, he couldn’t bring up the energy anyway, especially not against you.

Bucky is exhausted and the feeling of your warm thighs against his sides as you stitch him up, combined with the rumbling of the plane, almost has him lulled to sleep. After all, a soldier can sleep in any condition. Until of course, a nightmare makes the bliss dissipate.

Finishing up your handiwork, you gently clean the wound once more, making Bucky clasp onto your calves for support, before having it covered with a large bandage.

“You good?” you ask him as you throw the contaminated materials away.

“What the hell do you think?” he grunts and you flick him in the head.

“You’re welcome, you ungrateful dick.”

Bucky lets out a huff as you come to a stand, walking over to the side of the jet and pulling out one of the bunks. Moving over to one of the stocking cabinets, you find a sweater around his size and throw it in his direction.

“Put this on and for everyone’s sake, get some fucking sleep. You’re unbearable to be around,” you order and walk forward again, slipping back into the pilot seat as you check the coordinates again, hoping the storm didn’t mess with your course.

“How are you so aggressive when you’re trying to help?” he grumbles under his breath, not quite low enough or you not to hear. So you turn your head to give him another look and you see him struggling to walk. Quickly coming back to a stand to jump to his side, he almost pushes you off until his vision starts to spin. Gently helping him straighten up and walk over to the bunk, you look up at him.

“Because you won’t let people help you, but you’re surprisingly good at following orders,” you simply answer and help him down onto the bunk, your eyes softening when you watch him wince. “Seriously Bucky, get some sleep. I’ll keep on lookout and I’ll wake you when we’re there.”

Bucky reluctantly agrees and carefully lies down onto the bunk. The softness in your voice almost swept him to sleep without getting situated first, but he puts his trust in you and allows himself to fall asleep soon enough.

…

A gentle stroke over his arm makes his eyes flutter open much more peacefully than he usually wakes up and his eyes meet yours. Your voice is gentle, understanding that he came from the deepest sleep he’s had in a long time.

“We’re here. You want to come inside?” you ask him and he pushes to a sit with a deep grunt, your hands gently helping him up. That’s when Bucky notices a thick layer of multiple blankets slipping down to his hips and the chill coming in from the loading rig that’s descended onto the massive grass field the jet had landed on, the warmth from his sleep chilling his skin.

Bucky slowly assesses his surrounding and nods, “How long have I slept for?”

“The storm derailed us from the course, so you had a few extra hours. I loaded everything into the safehouse and have some food on the stove already. I’d say about eleven hours in total,” you explain as you walk off before putting your hands on your hips and staring him down. “You good to walk, soldier?”

Bucky shakes his head back to reality and nods, pushing off and following you down the rig, towards the cabin at the edge of the full forest surrounding the field.

“You stayed awake for that long?” he asked as he sauntered after you into the cabin.

“Took a short nap myself, just to be sure I could stick the landing without crashing to our deaths.” You shrug and slip your thick jacket off before making your way further into the home, walking up to the stove to check on the simmering food.

“Come here. Need to take a look at the stitches,” you bark your order and turn back to him as he walks over, a deep frown still etched into his face even after the good sleep he had.

“So bossy…” he grumbles and you roll your eyes, forcefully spinning him back around and lifting his sweater up over his shoulder where Bucky’s metal hand catches onto it so you can inspect him.

Removing the bandage, you smile when you see the insane improvement to his skin and open one of the drawers to grab a small knife to cut the stitches with. Gently cutting them and leaving just his flesh to do the rest of the healing, you’re almost sure you can see the skin mending itself.

“I think this might not even leave a scar,” you tell him proudly with a tinge of awe, and he spins around to face you.

“Good. What are we eating?” he asks and peers over the stove.

“Hot air for your rude ass.” You roll your eyes and lift the lid of the pan to stir the soup you had simmering on the stove.

In the beginning, you wouldn’t touch Bucky’s presence with a ten foot pole. The man radiated introversion and pretty much only wanted to talk to Steve. After you saw him snarl and snap at any other colleagues trying, you stayed far away from him, despite your initial intention to make him feel safe and welcome. But Steve saw your professional and withheld response to the whole Bucky situation as the perfect asset to make you both each others’ partner in missions. You wanted to complain – you really did – but you worked exceptionally well together. It turns out, when you don’t talk, you get an awful lot done.

It’s not that you don’t like Bucky, you greatly appreciate him as a colleague. But if he only likes you when you mind your own business, he would be dead. The amount of times you have saved him from himself is too many to count and you gave him a scolding twice as often. Yet all Bucky ever replies with is a huff, a roll of his eyes and turning his back on you as he saunters off to someone who won’t be on his ass all the time.

“Always so mean,” Bucky grumbles and lifts himself to sit on the kitchen counter, cleaning his hand with a cloth he found laying around.

“What can I say? Your endless optimism and happiness just brings out that side of me,” you hum sarcastically and blink harshly a few times to will away the sleep in your body, demanding for you to have a nap, making you unable to see the hint of a smile at the corner of Bucky’s mouth.

Not much later, the two of you finish your soup and you get up to clean the bowls and stuff them away, but Bucky clasps his metal fingers around your arm and stops you.

“Get some sleep. I’ll clean up,” he orders, his voice surprisingly gentle. But you frown at him and shake your head with a shrug, trying to wrench your arm loose from his grip only for it to tighten even more. “Not a request, sweetheart. Sleep, or I’ll knock you out.”

“Resorting to threats now, Barnes?”

“Don’t tempt me. You don’t know where I draw the line.” His warning and narrowed eyes soften on you and it tugs strangely at your chest. “Sleep.”

“So bossy…” Noting the seriousness in his eyes, you know not to fight him on it any longer and you put down the bowls, throwing him one last defeated scowl before making your way over to the couch and curling up on the worn cushions after putting a blanket over it.

The last thing you notice as the weight of sleep presses you into the cushions, is the gentle touch of a duvet being tucked around your snoozing frame.

…

To say it’s disorienting to wake up revitalised in the middle of the night, in a cabin you don’t know, where it’s so dark that you can’t see a hand in front of your face, is an understatement. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, your pulse having erratically quickened from the mind-numbing sleep it was in mere seconds ago, and your fingers dig into the cushions below you to ground yourself.

Swinging your legs over the side of the couch, you hear a loud grunt and something catches onto your legs, pulling you down. In your sleepy state, you barely get to scream before you’re pinned under a super soldier that looks like he went into fighting mode with his eyes closed, your eyes finally adjusting to the darkness.

“Bucky. It’s me!” you hiss and he squints down at you, taking a second to realise before slowly letting go and flicking on the nearest light, still straddling your hips.

“What the fuck, man…” Bucky groans and rubs his eyes, his voice rough and raspy from sleep. “What are you doing?”

You peer up at him with wide eyes “I just tried getting up. I couldn’t see shit, so your stomach became the ground.”

Slowly climbing off you and resting his back against the couch, he rubs the sleep out of his eyes and heaves a deep sigh.

“Well, that’s my rest gone for the rest of the night…” he grumbles with disappointment and runs a hand through his hair. You come up to a sitting position as well and make a noise in agreement.

“No. You’re going back to sleep.”

Your head snaps to him, “Excuse me?”

“Sleep.”

“What. Or you’ll knock me out?” you scoff as you rub your eyes.

“Don’t believe me?” His eyes are on you now and you tense before slowly turning to face him again.

“You are not going to knock me out!” You think. Right? “You’re not going to punch me, Barnes!”

He lets out a low laugh that skitters down your spine and your brows pull together. “I don’t have to punch you to knock you out. There are plenty of other ways.”

Your sleepy brain has a hard time catching on, before your eyes widen and you let out a noise of disgust. And your heart starts to pound harder at the wild insinuation. Why your heartbeat drops to between your legs, is something you ignore for the time being.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you scoff, if only to distract his senses from the heat radiating off your face, “you can’t fuck a woman to sleep.”

He leans in and you are on the edge of knocking him out, but his breath on your skin halts you. “You have any idea of the perks of being a super soldier?”

His voice, that deep fucking voice and the gravel in it, makes you gulp, your eyes fluttering against all your inner protests. Your fingers curl on top of your bent knees and you quickly scramble away, up to a stand. Bucky laughs up at you and shrugs, standing up himself.

But that’s it. You don’t move.

You stay quiet. Contemplating. Like only now his words sink past your skin and into your system, which heavily responds to the idea of Bucky.

Bucky fucking you. So hard and deep that you can’t help but cry out, but sob for more. You crave the satisfaction of sleep after a good, thorough pounding. And by someone who is strong and firm and has a filthy mouth. Someone you have no other attachment to. Someone you know answers perfectly to you, as proven by the many missions that showed the two of you working in such synchronised manor, it almost scared you at first.

Bucky cocks his head, “Is that what you need?”

You catapult out of your thoughts and quickly look at him again, “What?”

A smirk. “You need me to fuck you to sleep, sweetheart?”

Fuck. That is a bit direct. And if it doesn’t make you almost drool.

“Don’t say stuff like that,” you whisper breathlessly. It sounds like a plea and round eyes look at him like it is.

A plea.

But not for him to stop.

“Why?” He takes a step closer to you, his eyes darting between yours. “What does it do?”

You roll your eyes and his flesh hand raises to cup your face. His long fingers tangle into the side of your hair and his thumb tips your jaw up to tilt your head towards his gaze.

“Use your words. What does it do?” he rasps, taking another step closer until he breathes your air, leaving you with none, it seems.

“It–” you struggle to find the words. What he does to you. He makes your blood turn hot and your skin prickle with cold. He makes excitement flutter in your belly, but it might be anger – indignation at his wild behaviour towards you.

“Not so talkative now, are you?” he croons and you grit your teeth at his incessant teasing. “Or are you waiting for me to take it from you? Make you sing instead?”

Yes.

“Make you cry out for me?” he smirks. “Or maybe just make you cry? Make you beg for it – for me. You’d be such a pretty sight with tears in your eyes.”

Your head buzzes and you don’t know whether he is complimenting you or dragging you through the mud. It feels so similar and it has your heart pounding and slick coating the fabric of your panties. You try to say his name, but no sound comes out.

Bucky understands, however, the moving of your lips, and wants to bite them. Those lips. Suck on them, have them tremble.

After all that disgusting distance between the two of you from the beginning, it would be deeply satisfying for him to tear you apart like that. Have you cry out for more of him. He would take his sweet, sweet time, too. If he can control himself, that is. But he wants to take his time – mess you up real good. Have you despise that distance between you two in the future, like he has always despised that distance.

The silence between the two of you is deafening and it makes you want to squirm. Closer or far away, you don’t know.

Bucky doesn’t feel like Bucky anymore. He feels like the devil taunting you with your deepest desire. But it’s him. He’s your desire. And you can’t tell if it has always been there or if he’s manipulating you into it. He could, you know he could. But you are starting to care less, the more he looks at you. You want him, need him. Your bones are crying out for him and you want to vocalise it.

You want him to drag it out of you, those cries and that horrible, terrible need.

You imagine it. His fingers, two of them, curled inside of you. And a drag. A curl. Another drag. Tearing out your soul, one moan at a time, as he peels that pleasure to the surface.

When the quiet between you becomes unbearable, you dare to nod, give him permission. But the thought of a nod crosses your eyes and Bucky drags your mouth to his before you can give your confirmation. It is hungry, but hesitant. His soft lips and his rough fingers curling against your scalp has you whimper softly, giving him permission with your pleasure. And he unleashes himself, groaning as his other hand drags your head even closer to him.

He nips and sucks and bites at your lips, not giving you any space to venture into the kiss yourself. But you whine softly and he complies by stroking his tongue into your mouth, tangling with yours as he pulls your body up against his. Your knees are weak and your hands clasp desperately at his forearms to make sure you don’t float away, away from him. From his promising kiss for more.

The ache between your legs is near painful and you squirm on your shaky legs, needing relief desperately. But you don’t want his mouth to stop doing that. Stop kissing you, Abusing your mouth with his own. Desperate, claiming, slow, aggressive – selfish almost.

“Fuck me to sleep, Bucky.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

…

“Ah–” you rasp, squeezing your eyes closed as pain, whining pain, pulsates through your core and thighs. Your limbs are trembling and your bare skin is covered in sweat. Your arms are aching from the stretch above your head and the grip Bucky has on your wrists feels like a faint bruise.

But you haven’t come yet.

His deft fingers do nothing more than graze over your clit and you shudder, the touch agonising. He’s been at this for what feels like hours – rubbing, stroking, circling, taunting – and you feel like you are going insane.

His deep voice growls lowly against your ear, “You want to come.”

A small part of you wants to slap him for that obvious statement, but that part of you is so small, so faint, you barely know her anymore. No, that other remaining part of you lets out a wanton whine. Pathetic. Completely desperate for anything. Your mouth opens to plead, but nothing else comes out than ragged breaths, your sweaty chest rising and falling as that sweet relief is withheld from you.

“You see,” Bucky whispers, his muscular body only in boxers now, and another press of his finger to your clit has you writhe and forget that he was talking to you in the first place, “I agree with you that I respond better to orders. But I have found myself to be better at giving them. Orders – And orgasms for that matter.”

You groan.

“But you wouldn’t know that,” he continues, “since you haven’t come yet, have you?”

Heaving a deep breath, you don’t deign to give him an answer.

“I think I want the first time you come for me to be on my tongue– ” he muses and your eyes fly open. “It’d be a shame if you passed out after the first one though. You have to stay awake for me, okay? I’m not done with you yet… Wouldn’t that be cruel – to just be done with you now?”

That drags you out of your stupor and you give him the biggest eyes you can muster, the most pathetic plea you can will into your body, “Please!”

“So polite,” he hums and presses a gentle kiss below your ear. But he decides he wants more and drags his open mouth over the skin of your neck, his tongue lashing over the heated skin before sinking his teeth into it. You sigh softly, as it seems any of his touches are a relief to the endless deprivation of him.

His mouth encircles your breast, the warmth making goosebumps prickle at your skin as your nipples stiffen. Bucky hums against your skin, his tongue circling around the taut bud before giving a playful bite to the soft flesh. His mouth dances further down and his hand slips from your wrists, his palm stroking down your arm and chest to follow his mouth. You know better than to move, your fingers digging into the pillow below your head instead. Focusing on your breathing, you try to get through the ache between your hips, that desperate throbbing for the man descending your body.

Both his palms press against the inside of your thighs and press them apart, the stretch in your muscles making you arch your back. You dare to look down and your jaw drops at the sight of his dark, ravenous eyes on your cunt. His hands holding you open like it’s nothing, like they are pressing to the table his meal is on.

It takes ages, his examination of your pleasure, and your hole pulsates in answer to his stare. Your breathing hurts from heaving the thick air and you can’t take it anymore. One hand reaches down and combs through Bucky’s full hair, through his locks and cupping his face. His eyes dart up to yours and you hold back from frowning at the daze he sprung out of.

“Bucky…” you breathe, a soft question for him to give you what you need. What you want.

He nuzzles into your palm with a grin and locks his again darkened gaze onto yours, before leaning down so agonisingly slowly. But a firework as large as the galaxy springs apart when his warm lips wrap around your clit and you could mistake it for an orgasm, only to find out that when Bucky sucks your clit into his mouth, you know for a fact a deadly orgasm is well on its way to shred you to pieces.

He hums lovingly against you and you let out a raspy moan. Your thighs get pushed to the mattress as Bucky wetly suckles at you, your chest rising quickly now as your orgasm crawls higher and higher in your body. And just when you think you’re there, Bucky retreats and drags his tongue between your folds, lapping up your slick from the source.

A strangled whine slips from your lips and Bucky groans in agreement, “Fuck, I know. But I haven’t tasted you yet. Let me just– ”

Another drag of his tongue has your shivering and your hand curls into a tight fist with his hair between it. He hums in delight at the tug at his scalp and buries his face deeper into your cunt, breathing harshly as he struggles to combine it with eating you whole. But the sounds alone, get you closer and closer and– “Bucky!”

“Go,” he hums against you, almost hurried. “Come on my tongue.”

An order indeed.

Body curling, your orgasm barrels into you like an avalanche. Endless weight presses on your nerves and you sob and moan and cry out, twitching against Bucky as his arms slip around your thighs to hold you to his mouth. Drinking your orgasm up and grinding his own hips into the mattress, Bucky devours the feeling of having you come under him. He had been teasing himself, never mind you. He wanted it to last, wanted you more pliant and bendy before he allowed you to come.

He crawls up your body, but you barely notice it, your orgasm still haunting you, racking through your spine and turning your blood to syrup. Bucky takes advantage of your open mouth and licks into it, teasing, smiling, taunting. For you to respond to him, prove him you’re still there.

So you move, languidly dragging your mouth against his as you tangle your hand into his hair again, pulling him closer. He groans into your mouth and a feeling of triumph swells in your chest at the way Bucky’s body melts to your side. Though the deception of his surrender might have been a distraction when you suddenly feel two fingers press into you, instantly curling against a swollen wall inside of you that has you gasp against his lips.

“Oh, fuck!” you moan and Bucky chuckles deeply above you, his fingers retreating before pressing into you again. His thumb teasingly darts over your swollen clit and lightning strikes your every nerve.

“You think too lowly of yourself to think I would be done with you,” Bucky rumbles, his lips moving against the flushed skin of your cheek, your eyes having closed in overwhelming pleasure. His fingers move faster and twist into you, opening you up. Then then slow again, teasing – endlessly teasing. Then faster. Slower.

Unpredictable – and your body cannot keep up as it hauls you closer to your high before retreating like it burned itself. But to burn yourself on the devil – on Bucky. What a delight. You sigh deeply and let the bed swallow you whole as you buck up against Bucky’s hand. He presses soft kisses to your cheek, mumbling to you that you’re almost there and you have to let him make you come again.

“More,” you breathe out. “More, more, more…”

He obliges and presses into your spot so well, his thumb dragging two firm circles over your clit at the same time and you burn alive. You arch like a string pulls you to the ceiling as Bucky’s fingers fuck you through a numbing orgasm. From your crown, all the way down to your toes, fire bursts and surges and implodes. Your moans sound attractive to your own ears as you come, your voice breaking and filled with breaths, crying out to the heavens that the devil made you come again.

And the haze clears, the fog lifting as your eyes open to watch a heady Bucky lick appreciatively at his fingers, the gleam on them reflecting the minimum amount of light in the bedroom. Your hand slides from his hair to his chest and you press him to the mattress, his own eyes widening as you crawl over him.

You straddle his waist, hissing as your bare pussy settles over his angry, hard cock. The fabric is rough to your skin, but you can only focus on his face.

Bucky leans up on his forearms and raises an eyebrow at you. “I don’t think so– ”

“Oh yes. You are going to let me use you and then,” you smirk, “you can make me pass out. Since you have failed to do so thus far…”

A slow smile spreads over his face, “So bossy…”

You answer with a grin and a slow grind over his weeping cock, making him stutter under you, “Let’s see how well you follow orders now, Mr. Barnes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Daddy Steve.... I just woke up...

Hi mommy Kinny. For a Steve request, how about enemy’s! Dad steve. Like the person you hate the most has the hottest dad oops 🤭

The Cheerleader

18+

The captain of the football team is a total bitch. Her dad's pretty fucking hot, though.

Content Warning: DILF!Steve x Cheerleader!Reader, age gap (around 20 yrs), smut (public sex, daddy kink, degradation kink, face fucking, rough sex, cream pie), no aftercare.

"We won't stop, we won't be beat! Falcons never taste defeat! Goooooo Falcons!"

You kick your leg straight up at the end of the chant, waving your pom-poms with a wide grin. Cheering for the football team isn't exactly your favorite part of cheerleading, but it has to be done. It feel juvenile and basic compared to the intense cheer competitions you take part in, but part of college cheering unfortunately includes supporting the sports teams.

No matter how irritating the players are.

"Make sure there aren't any of your feathers laying around, this time," Jamie spits bitterly as you and the others walk off the field. "Annoying ass chants."

"Excuse me?" You ask pointedly while Davina attempts to pull you away.

"You heard me," Jamie doubles down, glaring at you. "Get off the damn field; your embarrassing dance is over."

Rolling your eyes, you pull your arm out of Davina's grip before stepping closer to Jamie. "You know, maybe if you stopped losing so badly, game after game, you wouldn't be so frustrated," You say casually. "The only thing embarrassing about what I do is the fact that it's for such a shitty team."

"What would Coach Wilson say if he heard you talk about the team like that?" She retorts bitterly.

You start to walk away, shrugging. "I don't know, Rogers. If you ever take his dick out of your mouth long enough for you to ask him, let me know what he says."

Her eyes widen with rage as she lunges for you. "Bitch!" She yells, immediately being held back by her teammates.

Jamie Margaret Rogers is your worst enemy. It's been that way since freshman year, and you don't see it ever changing. For some inexplicable reason, the two of you have never gotten along. Something about the other sets off the ugliest side of you both, leading to blow ups and fights if you're ever in the same vicinity for too long.

"One day, one of you is gonna end up killing the other," Davina warns as she leads you over to the bleachers. "Do you know how traumatic that's gonna be for me to witness?"

"She's fucking insufferable," You mutter, slamming your ass down on an empty seat.

You manage to calm down somewhat as the game begins, doing your best to ignore the fact that you despise the captain of the team. Time passes and soon it's halftime.

"What's she doing?" Davina asks with a frown, her eyes on Jamie who is currently rushing up the stairs of the bleachers.

"I swear to God, if she starts on me again, I'm gonna rip her head off," You grumble, sitting up and preparing yourself for another round.

She reaches your row and you're sure she's about to yell at you - until she grins widely. "Dad, you came!"

Oh.

Out of curiosity, you turn to the left to watch her as she talks to her father. When you get a glimpse of him, though, you do a double take. Why the fuck is he so hot?

After a brief conversation, Jamie rushes back down to the field, leaving you with wide eyes.

"Bro," You utter, gripping Davina's forearm. "Please tell me why Jamie's dad is the most attractive man I've ever seen."

Assuming that you're kidding, Davina looks over with a smirk - before it drops completely. "Holy shit."

Blinking a few times, you release her arm and state, "I'm gonna fuck him."

She snorts, narrowing her eyes at you. "You cannot fuck Jamie's dad. He's married."

"Her parents are divorced. Remember that essay she wrote about it?" You ask, feeling your heart race. "Oh, my God."

"Have you seen him?" Davina questions you with a scoff. "As if he's single."

"I don't care," You say flippantly. "He's an older man and I'm a cheerleader; he'll be into it. I'm literally going to fuck him. This is the greatest revenge plan."

"Y/N, you can't-"

"See you on the other side," You cut her off and stand to your feet, taking in a deep breath. Letting your adrenaline propel you, you slowly start to walk up to his row. He's focusing on the game, but he gives you a couple of glances as you stand at the side. Instead of saying a single word, you simply send him a smile. When he looks you up and down, his eyes lingering on your short skirt, you know you've got a chance.

The second your eyes meet, you shoot him a wink. He raises a brow at you, and you feel your stomach flip. Fuck. He's so hot.

Sitting next to him is Pietro, your plug, so you walk over to kneel on an empty seat in front of them before leaning over the back of it. "Hey, Piet," You begin, instinctively pushing your chest out. "Can you drop off a gram to my dorm tonight?"

Jamie's dad keeps his eyes forward, doing his best to make it look like he isn't listening to the conversation.

"Sure thing," Pietro replies before lowering his voice. "You gonna pay me in cash this time?"

You laugh at that, leaning closer into him. "How about I just suck your dick again?"

He sighs, rolling his eyes. "You're lucky I have a thing for cheerleaders," Pietro mutters bitterly.

As you get up to walk away, you make eye contact with Jamie's dad who's staring intently at you. You lick your lips before walking past him, making sure to brush your leg against his shoulder as you walk up the stairs and to the back of the stadium.

It takes him four minutes to join you in the parking lot.

He pretends to have only come for a smoke break; lighting a cigarette and leaning against the fence without sparing you a glance. You saunter over to him, coyly smiling as you approach him.

"Can I?" You ask him innocently, glancing down at the cigarette.

His eyes flicker down to you. "It's bad for you."

"Who cares?" You shrug. "Everyone does it."

Turning to you, he leans down and lowers his voice. "The only thing your lips should ever wrap around is a cock," He utters. "And, judging from your conversation with your little friend, you do that plenty."

You tilt your head. "Are you calling me a slut, Mr. Rogers?"

"Depends," He replies, standing up straight. "Are you a slut?"

"Depends," You echo. "Do you want me to be?" Reaching out, you place your hand on his huge bicep. "I can be a good girl, if you want. I can be a virgin who's never so much as kissed a boy. Is what what you're into, Mr. Rogers? You wanna ruin my innocence?"

He swallows thickly before tossing his cigarette to the ground and stamping it out. Without a word, he grabs you by the throat and drags you behind one of the big buses. Clenching his jaw, he pushes you against the side of it and moves his face closer to yours. "How about I just treat you like the fuckin' whore you are?" He suggests with a growl.

You whimper at his words, bucking your hips up in an attempt to feel his crotch rub against yours.

Tutting, he shakes his head. "Look at you," He mumbles softly. "So desperate for an old man's attention, hmm?"

"Please," You whine lowly.

"Please what, little girl?" He questions you with a smug look.

"Please, use me," You whisper. "I'm worthless unless I have your cock in one of my holes."

His eyes light up as he smirks. "Such a well-trained whore," He mutters, mostly to himself. "You crave my approval, don't you?"

"Yes," You mewl, clinging onto him. "Please, Sir."

"Someone messed you up real bad, hmm?" He asks. "And now all you wanna do is make daddy proud?"

Your heart skips a beat. "Yes, please."

"You dumb little girl," He coos teasingly, stroking your cheek. "Don't you fret. Daddy's gonna give you plenty of opportunity to make him proud, alright?"

"Thank you, daddy," You say, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Looking you up and down, he licks his lips. "Get on your knees."

You obey him, wincing as the hard gravel presses into your knees.

"Aw," He says with a pout. "Does it hurt, baby?"

Nodding silently, you lift your knee up slightly to relieve it of the pressure.

The kindness disappears completely from his face, and it's as though he's become a different person. "Open your fucking mouth, slut," He orders gruffly. "I don't care if your knees bleed. Be of some use and suck my cock."

"Yes, Sir," You reply. The next few moments pass by in a blur and then his dick is halfway down your throat. Your mind is free of thought and all you can focus on is the darkening blue of his eyes which are staring down at you. His hands grab fistfuls of your hair and he uses the makeshift pigtails as handles to assist him in fucking your face.

"Fuck, just like that," He groans, watching his cock disappear and reappear in and out of your mouth. "Taking it like the good little slut I knew you'd be."

You swirl your tongue around his shaft, eager to bring him pleasure. He pulls harder on your hair, making tears spring into your eyes and shots of electric pleasure course through your body.

"Look at how much prettier you are with your mouth stuffed," He coos, stroking away a stray tear from your cheek. "I bet your pussy will be even prettier once I stuff her."

Your eyes roll back and you moan around his cock, squeezing your legs together in a desperate attempt to feel some friction. Mr. Rogers notices, and the sight makes him smirk.

"Are you getting wet for me, baby?" He asks you teasingly. "Sucking cock makes you horny, doesn't it?"

You nod as best you can, keeping your eyes on his.

"Can you feel yourself getting wet?" He questions with a sly grin as he continues fucking your throat. "That pussy's begging for daddy's cock, isn't she?"

"Mmm," Is all you can respond with, making him groan at the vibrations you send through his dick.

"Fuck," He hisses under his breath. Just as his cock twitches against your tongue, he quickly pulls out of your mouth, wanting to save himself for your cunt. With no gentleness, he grabs your arm and pulls you back up to your feet. Then, he places his hands under each of your thighs before lifting you up and pushing you back against the bus.

"Daddy," You mumble weakly, taken aback by his dominance. It's been a while since you've had good sex, and you most definitely weren't expecting to get it today, or from Jamie's dad.

"Already brain-dead and I haven't even stretched that pussy out, yet," Mr. Rogers mumbles mostly to himself. He pulls up your tennis skirt and clenches his jaw when he sees the black, Spandex shorts you're wearing underneath. "Fuck's sake." Without warning, he puts you back down on the ground before turning you around and pressing your face to the bus. "It's your own fault I have to take you like this, so no complaining about me fucking you too deep. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir," You whimper, heart racing at the thought of it. You could barely take his entire length into your mouth, and so you're more than thrilled to know he's about to drill it into you.

Your shorts are roughly pulled down, taking your panties with them and leaving you bare. They're tight around your knees, but you have no time to complain as Mr. Rogers is already sinking into your soaking pussy. Once he's a few inches deep, he wraps one hand around your throat and grips your waist with the other, keeping you firmly in place.

"Don't be afraid to be loud," He whispers slyly in your ear. "Nobody will hear you."

With that, he slams the rest of his cock into you, and you immediately let out a cry. He doesn't give you time to adjust and begins fucking you hard and fast, brushing against your cervix with every thrust. Your eyelids drop and you can't hear anything outside of his groans and your bodies slapping together, your vision blurring.

"Don't you dare pass out on me," He grumbles, bringing his hand to your cheek and slapping it, pulling you out of your head. "C'mon. I wanna hear you, slut."

"Feels so good, Mr. Rogers," You whine as he kisses your jaw.

"Mmm, that's a good girl," He moans lowly, slapping your ass. "Such a good girl, knowing exactly what you're made for. Made for taking cock."

"Yes, Sir," You respond, shivering when his teeth sink into your neck.

"Your pussy is golden," He growls, pounding into your faster. "You're gonna milk me fuckin' dry."

"Please, daddy, cum inside me," You beg him, feeling your end approach.

"Not until you cum for me, baby," He says, tightening his grip on your throat. "Rub that clit. Show me how you play with yourself when you think about older men like me railing you, like the horny little slut you are."

You're convinced that his words alone could bring you to orgasm, every sentence setting you off and flooding you with pleasure. As he ordered, you bring a hand down to your clit and begin rubbing it in fast circles, desperate to cum. Mr. Rogers looks down over your shoulder, groaning as he watches you touch yourself.

"Ah, fuck," He grunts. "Gonna make me cum so hard, baby, don't stop."

"Daddy," You whine, throwing your head back as your stomach flips. "I'm gonna- daddy, cumming!"

He thrusts harder when he feels you gushing, tightening around his cock. Unable to hold back, he lets go and cums deep inside you, letting out a guttural groan. Falling forward with his face in your neck, he thrusts a few more times, giving you every drop of his seed.

You're breathing heavily, still feeling aftershocks while you come down from your high. At some point, you feel him pull out, and immediately you realize how sore you are. Mr. Rogers helps pull your panties and shorts back up, but that's the extent of his kindness as he steps back, leaving you there to recover against the side of the bus.

After a few moments, the sound of a lighter brings you back to reality and you turn around to see him smoking against the fence. Finding your footing, you slowly walk over to him, take the cigarette from his mouth, and take a long drag. He watches as you slowly blow out the smoke, and the two of you continue sharing it in silence.

The crowd eventually bursts into loud cheers and you can tell that the game is over. Leaving Mr. Rogers behind, you make your way back to the field, hoping there aren't any visible marks on your body from the sinful act you just committed.

Jamie and her teammates are making their way to the changing rooms when you stop her in her tracks to give her a smile. "You played amazingly, Jamie," You tell her warmly, earning yourself a confused glare.

"That was a great game, sweetheart," A deep voice adds from behind you, sending a shiver down your spine.

"We lost, Dad," She points out bitterly.

"You still played really well!" You insist with a grin, in a largely better mood than before.

Mr. Rogers steps forward so he's standing next to you and he places a hand on your lower back, making your stomach flutter. "How about I take you and your friend out for a nice meal?" He asks Jamie, whose face contorts at the suggestion.

"Ew, she's not my friend," She tells him with a scoff.

"That's okay, Mr. Rogers, but thank you so much," You say politely, smiling up at him. "I hope to see you at the next game."

Jamie grimaces at your words, rolling her eyes and turning away.

Mr. Rogers shoots you a wink while patting your ass. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

i no longer have a taglist, follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifs 💞

steve masterlist

buy me a kofi <3

SIR YOU ARE VERY SEXY

Chris Evans starring as Steve ‘The World is Your Runway’ Rogers AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR | 2018

DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY

ROBERT DOWNEY JR. IRON MAN 2 - dir. Jon Favreau

oh my. Ma'am you got me blushing

  on his knees

synopsis: even the king of the underworld has his weaknesses. bucky’s just happens to be a mortal woman he can’t get enough of.

pairing: bucky barnes (hades/devil) x f!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: 18+ ONLY. breaking & entering, ig technically monsterfucking, devil/mortal dynamics a la hades/persephone, dirty talk, teasing, oral (receiving), bucky breaks the wall, pet-names, bucky on his knees for the reader/begging, size kink bc bucky is 6’6 here in my mind, fingering, unprotected sex, power imbalance, possessiveness, this bucky also wears rings and chains and had civil war era hair, idk what else but lmk if i missed anything!!

notes: i wrote this for me, myself, and i <3

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