Summary: What happens after Thanos snaps his fingers? Word Count: 335 Warnings: Heavy angst, major character death, Stucky feels Author’s Note: If you have not seen Infinity War, do not read this as it contains major spoilers. Inspiration came from the amazing @petite-madame fan art you see below the cut.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission
The grit of Thor’s voice pulled Steve from his unconsciousness. Thanos packed a mean punch, even when he wasn’t using the Power Stone for fuel. Steve stumbled to his feet, holding a hand to his aching shoulder; he was lucky to be alive.
“What did you do?” Thor demanded to know, his voice wrecked and confused.
Steve ran in the direction of Thor’s voice, his sides aching, his heart pounding in his chest at the weight of Thor’s words. What had transpired while he had been out of it? Had anyone died after he had been tossed aside like he was nothing?
A surge of power rushed through the air, cutting through Steve’s midsection, making the super soldier bend over and gasp for air. He forced himself to pull in one breath, then another, and another, then he took off at a dead run, bursting through the foliage to find Thor, alone, utter destruction on his face.
“Where’d he go?” Steve asked the god, but Thor didn’t… couldn’t give an answer.
Steve’s wild eyes flicked around, searching for, but never finding Thanos. What he did find, however, was Bucky, gripping his gun, stumbling into the clearing.
“Steve?” he gasped.
Steve bolted across the open space as Bucky’s legs started to disappear, blowing away like dust in the wind. “Buck, no,” he choked, his hands gripping onto Bucky as hard as they could.
“What’s hap-” Bucky’s question was cut off by Steve’s mouth on his. It was bruising and full of all the words Steve would never get to say.
More and more of Bucky withered away, and when Steve pulled back, Bucky was nearly translucent. Steve gripped Bucky’s new vibranium shoulder and had a firm grip on his hair, refusing to let him go.
Bucky gave a shuddering exhale. “Stevie, I lov-”
Steve fell to his knees and sobbed, “Oh, God.” Bucky, his beautifully imperfect Bucky, was gone. Natasha’s hand was on his shaking shoulder as he wept openly, clutching onto the last remnants of Bucky.
Summary: Steve and Bucky reunite in Wakanda. Word Count: 492 Warnings: Stucky kissing Author’s Note: An anon request. Will you write Stucky? If so, can you write them being reunited in Wakanda? Maybe suggestively smutty, but not super smutty? GIF credit
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
It had been two years since Steve had seen his best friend, his Bucky, and the closer the quinjet got to Wakanda, the faster his heart tried to climb out of his chest, up his throat, and out of his mouth. The time crept by painfully slow, but soon enough, Sam was dropping the plane down and flying into the lush and hidden land of Wakanda.
The breath stuttered in Steve’s chest, it was almost time. He tried his best to hold himself together, to not let his armor slip in front of everyone. He had made it two years, he could wait just a little longer. He had to.
Steve grinned as he approached his friend. “How have you been, Buck?” Steve pulled Bucky into him and closed his eyes, pulling in a deep breath filled with nothing but Bucky. God, he even smelled the same.
Bucky clapped his friend on the back as they hugged, relishing in the heavy weight of Steve’s hand on his shoulder as they parted. “Not bad for the end of the world,” he answered, chuckling low in his throat.
Turning his attention to T’Challa, his friend, the king of Wakanda, they shook hands. “It seems I’m always thanking you for something.”
T’Challa laughed warmly as he welcomed the dismantled Avengers, his arm sweeping grandly. “Come, this way.”
It was an hour later when Steve and Bucky were able to find themselves in each other’s company, no one else around.
Steve closed the door quietly, though it sounded like a shotgun blast. “It’s really good to see you, Buck,” he breathed, his heart in his throat.
“It’s good to see you, too, punk.” Bucky’s voice was thicker than before, heavy with need.
The two men met in the middle of the room, their chests colliding loudly, their lips a moment later, a clash of teeth and tongues, moans and gasps filling the thick air between them. Steve buried his hands in Bucky’s hair, tugging on the long strands while Bucky’s hands fell to Steve’s waist, his fingers digging mercilessly into the man he had been impatiently waiting to see.
Steve’s back was against the wall, pinned to it by Bucky’s hips, their thick bodies desperately seeking friction they had gone entirely too long without. Steve couldn’t stop the whimper at the hard line or arousal that pressed into his thigh.
Tearing his mouth away, Steve pressed his forehead against Bucky’s. “I missed you, Buck, so much.”
“Me, too, Stevie,” Bucky panted, his fingers ghosting over Steve’s jaw and neck, scraping a nail over the pulse point in his neck. “Just wish we had more time.”
Steve pulled in a heavy breath, his eyes fluttering closed at the way Bucky’s touch was affecting him. “We have just enough.”
Bucky chuckled low in his throat as he back up, pulling Steve with him until they reached the bed. “Just enough,” he agreed before giving Steve a searing kiss.
Summary: Steve Rogers is the CEO of his own company, and he’s a man that has never heard the word no from anyone. He goes after what he wants and he gets it, no matter the cost. You’re doing your best; sharing an apartment with your best friend, struggling through college, trying to make your own imprint on this world. The two of you cross paths when, as a favor to your friend, you interview him for a magazine. Without meaning to, you catch the attention of the insanely wealthy and intense bachelor. Word Count: 2,429 Warnings for Series: Angst, fluff, explicit rough & consensual sexual content, dub-con, dom!Steve, sub!reader, talk of past abusive dom / dub relationship, mentions of cheating, animal cruelty [no details], possibly more to come. Author’s Note: Yes. There are going to be similarities to 50 Shades of Grey. This isn’t exactly a rewrite, this is my take on how it should have been. This fic wouldn’t be possible without @captain-rogers-beard and @climbthatmooselikeatree, their support and assistance has been invaluable.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
Friday afternoon found you hunched over your desk, head in your hands, red pen shoved into the knot on top of your head, and your heart pounding painfully in your chest.
“Zemo’s gonna fire me,” you groaned.
Bucky was sitting there, one leg thrown over the other. “Because you have three transcripts to read?” he scoffed loudly, not caring who heard him.
You glared at him from the corner of your eye. “It’s my first week here,” you ground out.
“Exactly,” he agreed, toothpick between his molars. “It’s only your first week here. If he fires you, he’s a bigger tool than we thought he was.”
“Wait… we?” you asked in confusion.
Bucky chuckled, showcasing that stupidly cute dimple in his chin. “Come on, Y/N. He’s a tool, and you know it,” he insisted, his fingers drumming rhythmically on your desk.
You let loose a huff of laughter, your eyes drifting to the office where the topic of your discussion was, sitting behind his desk, talking on the phone, his hands moving animatedly in front of him.
“I mean, kind of,” you half-ass agreed with him.
Peter came over, a smile tugging at his lips, and a large bouquet of blood-red roses in his arms. “Where do you want these, Y/N?”
“He really shouldn’t have done this,” you murmured, a thrill running through you as you cleared off a spot, digging into them, looking for a card as soon as you could. Bucky was watching you carefully, his brows pulled together, but you ignored him, smiling like a fool when you found the small card. Your lips moved as you took in the words, the words that you thought were written on behalf of Steve, but you were wrong.
Always thinking of you.
The card fell from your trembling fingers. “I… I was wrong. It’s not… not Steve,” you stammered, fear clawing its way through you, wrapping around your heart, and squeezing.
Peter picked up the card and looked at the fancy writing. “The ex?”
When you nodded, Bucky’s hands were on your shoulders and there was murder flashing in his eyes. “You’re sure it’s from Brock?”
Your chin was quivering and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. “I’m positive. He said it all the time, Buck. It’s him. He’s here.”
Bucky turned his murderous gaze to the teenager that delivered the flowers. “You stay with her. Under no circumstances is she to be left alone. You hear me?”
“Yeah, man, I hear you,” Peter confirmed.
Bucky ripped the phone from his pocket as he tore off through the office. “Brock was just here, boss.”
With a sob in your throat, you dropped into your chair. Peter grabbed the box of tissues and sat next to you, his arm around your shaking shoulders.
“It’ll be okay, Y/N,” he promised.
“You don’t know that,” you choked, a hand over your mouth. People were staring, hushed questions falling from their lips, and it made you feel like you were under a microscope.
“What’s going on?” Mr. Zemo demanded to know. His arms were crossed and he was wearing a pinched look of irritation rather than concern for his employee.
Peter gave your hand a squeeze before he stood. “There’s been a threat to Y/N’s life,” he answered bluntly.
Baron huffed as he took in the sight before him; you were crying, tears streaming down your face, smearing your make-up, the dark flowers, the tossed away card. He picked it up and read it aloud, much louder than he should have.
“How is this a threat to your life, Miss Y/L/N?” His tone was cold, impersonal, uncaring.
“It… it’s not,” you sputtered. “Not directly, but you don’t know -”
“You’re right,” Baron interrupted, flicking the card onto your desk. “I don’t understand because you won’t tell me. It seems the only ones you trust are your rent-a-bodyguard and our resident bitch.”
Peter scoffed at that. “Now, hold on a minute,” he started, but a dark glare from Baron made Peter swallow heavily.
“Excuse me,” Bucky growled as he seemingly appeared out of nowhere, “but you might want to back the fuck off.”
Baron stood tall and glared at Bucky. “I’m not sure you know who you’re talking to, son.”
“And I’m not sure you know who you’re talking to,” Steve snarled as he joined the conversation. You were out of your chair and in Steve’s arms in the blink of an eye, your arms around his waist, your face buried in his jacket, marring the expensive linen with your make-up.
Baron blew out a heavy breath of annoyance. “The boyfriend, I presume.”
Steve pressed a kiss to the top of your head before extending his hand. “Steve Rogers,” he smirked. “I believe I need to have a word with your superiors.”
Steve was pacing back and forth, squeezing a stress ball with one hand, the other shoved into his pocket. He had been on the phone with the head of Secret Acres Books for the last hour, and he was starting to get pissed off.
“No, I really don’t think you understand,” he argued. “An employee’s life has been threatened, and the on-site management sees fit to degrade the employee? That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen, a lawsuit that will bankrupt your company fifteen fold.”
You were lying on the couch, your head in Natasha’s lap, her fingers combing through your hair, a cashmere blanket covering you.
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do I really need to break it down for you? Because I can use small words if I need to.”
Natasha giggled at that while Clint gave a grunt of approval from the kitchen. Whatever he was cooking smelled divine. You hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and your stomach decided to remind you of its presence.
“Allow me to remind you of the zero-tolerance policy your company has in regards to sexual harassment,” Steve said, shooting you a wink as he continued pacing. “You’ll see in the email that my team of lawyers and I constructed, that there have been several complaints lodged against Mr. Zemo, yet there haven’t been any investigations. Would you care to elaborate as to why?”
That got your attention. You pushed off Natasha’s lap and snapped your fingers to get Steve’s attention. “What happened?” Steve handed you the file he had just referenced, which you tore through to find the complaints.
“Holy shit,” you muttered. There were more than several complaints. There were, “Fifteen, sixteen, seven… seventeen?!”
Natasha pulled one from the file and ran her finger over each line until she came up with a name. “Wanda… that’s Pietro’s sister.”
“What?” you gasped, pulling the sheet from your friend’s hand. “I haven’t seen her in… shit, a year?”
“Yeah,” Nat agreed, her head shaking sadly. “She was having a hard time with the courses. I thought she went back home.”
“Where’s home?” Steve asked.
You and Nat answered simultaneously. “Sokovia.”
Steve took the paper from your fingers and turned the topic of the conversation to something even more serious. “Where is Wanda Maximoff?”
“Do you really think something happened to her?” you asked Steve as he climbed into bed.
“I don’t know, doll,” he answered tiredly, scraping a hand over his face.
You slid between the silken sheets and curled into his side, pressing a kiss to his bearded cheek. “I’m sorry about today.”
Steve’s head shot up and he pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “What happened today is in no way your fault, Y/N,” he said sternly. “Brock is unhinged. I’m pissed at him, for what he’s doing, for what he’s done to you.”
“But if I had just stayed wi -” Steve’s mouth was on yours, effectively silencing you.
His eyes were dark when he pulled back. “None of this is your fault, you hear me? None of it.”
Your inner voices were still screaming, doing their best to convince you that Steve was lying, that everything that happened with Brock, what was happening now, all of it was your fault. If only you had stayed with Brock, if only you hadn’t pissed him off that night, if only you had kept your big mouth shut and not told Natasha about the beatings, if only you –
Steve huffed impatiently before kissing you. Tears slipped down your cheeks as you melted into him, as his tongue pushed between your lips, as he dominated your senses. If his words weren’t enough to convince you, he’d have to show you.
He rolled onto you and settled between your thighs, caging you in with his forearms, tangling his fingers in your hair as your back curved off the bed. You were sighing and moaning into the kiss, rolling your hips up, swallowing his moan, and sucking on his tongue.
“Jesus, doll,” he rasped, his voice shattered. He marked you with his beard and teeth, biting and sucking dark marks into your skin until you hissed.
Sitting back on his knees, Steve’s fingers dragged along your body; twisting, pinching, pulling, goosebumps jumping to life under his touch. Reaching your hips, he hooked his fingers inside the band of your panties, and pulled them over your hips, down your thighs, all while staring at you with lust-blown pupils, that perfect bottom lip trapped between his teeth. You grew self-conscious under his gaze, blushing and averting your eyes, hands twitching to cover yourself.
Steve shook his head, saying, “You’re beautiful, sweetheart, so fuckin’ beautiful.” His voice was more a ragged whisper than anything, and a strange sense of self-acceptance washed through you, hushing the small voices of doubt in your mind.
He was kissing you; sucking your bottom lip between his, nipping at the plump flesh before sweeping his tongue over it, running his fingers through your hair, pushing your legs further apart with his thighs. Your heart was hammering, pushing blood faster through your veins, thundering in your ears like a waterfall. The base of Steve’s cock was pressed against your engorged clit as you rutted against one another. Your pussy tightened painfully, desperately seeking out his cock, your opaque slick seeping out, staining the blankets below.
With your nails at the small of his back, you whined, “Need you to fuck me, Sir.”
Steve’s moan was ragged, making his shoulders shudder. He licked his lips hungrily, watching as you reached over and pulled out a condom from the nightstand. Once the foil package was torn open and discarded in the small waste basket, he pushed up and sat back on his knees, his cock twitching and throbbing as you rolled the condom on.
You wrapped your hand around his cock, running your fingernails along the rubber-coated thick vein, relishing in the ebb and flow of blood beneath your touch. He was so thick and hard, like a layer of skin atop a rock. It was when you stroked him, squeezing his cock-head between your thumb and forefinger, that he growled.
Steve was on you in a flash, kissing you hungrily, a hand on the base of his cock, sweeping the swollen head through your slick folds. He bit your lower lip as he pushed in slowly, his hips shaking as he fought for control. All he wanted to do, all you wanted him to do, was to fill you so completely you couldn’t breathe. But he took his time, and goddamn it, you almost came from the lazy drag of his twitching cock.
Hot air blasted on your chest as Steve looked between your bodies and watched his cock disappear, until all he could see was his ginger curls tangled with yours. Your breath caught in your throat as he stretched you, not stopping until his pelvis bit into yours. Neither of you moved for a moment, you just lay there, senses in hyperdrive. Every twitch made one of you gasp or moan, every brush of skin made goosebumps flare to life. And just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, Steve pulled back, just as slow as when he filled you, stopping only when his cock-head remained.
With a guttural sound, he snapped his hips, driving the air from your lungs with a grunt, and sent an echo of wet skin through the room. He used his thighs to open your legs wider, subsequently, doing the same thing to your pussy, and giving him a new angle to make you cry out. And cry out you did.
Your back arched and air was tearing in and out of your throat. Steve’s mouth was on your shoulder, biting, kissing, sucking, raggedly whispering how, “Fucking amazing you feel. So fucking tight and wet, doll.” And then an sinful moan of your name would fall from his lips.
Steve slid a hand under your arched back and hooked it on your right shoulder, digging his fingers deep into the skin and muscles with every snap of his hips. You were meeting his thrusts, nails cutting into his shoulder blades, lower back, and ass as the coil tightened and the pleasurable white-hot burn began to spread out from your belly. His hips started to stutter and both your already ragged breathing came sharper, echoing the wet, sucking sounds of sex.
With his forehead on your shoulder and his own shoulders bowing with every thrust, Steve slid a hand between your sweat-slicked bodies, and pressed his two middle fingers against your clit. Static exploded in your head and black dots swarmed in your eyes as you came. You held your breath as you pulsed around him, knowing the lack of oxygen would only fuel the intensity of the orgasm.
When you couldn’t take it any longer, and Steve’s mantra of, “Fuck, baby girl,” was harsh on your neck, you released the air held hostage, his name at the end was a shattered whisper.
He stayed there, between your shaking legs, propped up on his elbows, and kissed you languidly as you drug your fingers over the wide span of his shoulders. It was only when he had gone soft that Steve pulled out, each of you hissing in a mixture of arousal and over-sensitive skin.
Steve disappeared into the bathroom, coming back a few moments later, finding you exactly where he had left you. You drained the glass he handed over as he cleaned you up, still murmuring praises and dropping kisses to your flushed skin.
As soon as he was back in bed, you curled against his side, humming in contentment, dropping a kiss to his chest, falling asleep almost immediately.
Summary: When you disobey a direct order, Steve wants you to know exactly who is in charge, or so he thinks. Word Count: 2,381 Warnings: Rough explicit sexual content, dom!reader, some dub!con I guess Author’s Note: Requested by @maaaaryx Could you write some Steve x Reader smut, maybe the reader got in trouble or disobeyed Steve and, well, Cap wants to punish her? – Sorry, there’s no real punishment here. GIF Credit
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission
You stormed off the quinjet, hands balled into fists at your side, muttering through your teeth. You were pissed… no, you were in a rage, and it was all because of Steve Rogers. He was calling after you, demanding that you stop your retreat, “Immediately, soldier.”
Everyone else in the hanger stopped what they were doing, their voices trailing off, their attention on you and Steve.
With your jaw clenched and murder in your eyes, you turned around. “I ain’t your fuckin’ soldier,” you spat at him.
Your blood was surging and if you weren’t careful, your powers were going to flare up and no one would be safe. You stormed out of the hanger and into the compound, the doors slamming behind you with a little too much oompf. Once inside your room, you let loose a shout of unadulterated rage that made the windows rattle, made the glass on your desk start shaking, made the still-lit bulb in your lamp explode.
God, you wanted to punch Steve in his perfect fucking face.
It was supposed to be a simple mission; sneak in, rescue the prisoner, and sneak out, but things didn’t go according to plan. The entire thing had been a set-up, and several members of the team almost paid for it with their lives. Had you not been with them, they would have, but Cap didn’t see it that way.
He said you were, “Careless for jumping into the fray like that. Could’a fuckin’ died!”
“But I didn’t,” you shouted in his face. “And neither did anybody else!”
“That’s not the point, Y/N,” Steve raged, his face red. “You defied a direct order.”
Bucky was facing his friend, hand on his heaving chest. “Ease off, punk.”
Steve’s eyes flashed as he shoved Bucky’s hand away. “You’d do best to listen to me, or else.”
“Oh, really?” you sassed, rolling your eyes. “What are you gonna do about it?”
“You’re fucking grounded,” Steve bellowed, that vein in his neck pulsing heavily, looking as if it were about to burst.
Bucky shoved at his friend, pushing him back, away from the fight. “You don’t mean that,” he snarled.
“He doesn’t mean that,” Bucky rephrased as he turned to you.
“Like hell I don’t mean it,” Steve hollered, his feet hitting the floor heavily as he started making his way back toward you.
You gave a barking laugh that echoed in the jet. “You think that because you’re Captain America, pretty boy, gets whatever he fuckin’ wants by battin’ those baby blues, that I’m gonna just say ‘okay, yeah, you’re right, Steve. I should have let Clint die.’ Fuck. You.” The jet landed a minute later, the two of you still glaring at one another, neither one of you willing to back down.
You kicked off your shoes with a growl and they went soaring into the bathroom, through the closed door, but you really didn’t care what you happened to destroy, it wasn’t like Stark couldn’t afford to replace a door, a bathroom mirror, and several tiles.
There was one solid knock on the door before Steve opened it, or tried. With a flick of your wrist, you harnessed your power and slammed it in his face.
“God damn it,” Steve roared. “Lemme in.”
“Take a fuckin’ hint, Rogers,” you screamed. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
Steve punched the door, but it didn’t budge, it didn’t even splinter. “Open up, that’s an order.”
Rolling your eyes, you snarled, “Enough with your goddamn orders. I ain’t a soldier and I won’t do your bidding.”
“Would you just…” You could feel the sigh rip out of him, almost as if he were punched in the gut. “Please, Y/N. Open the door.” His hand slapped against it impatiently. You were still vibrating with rage, but the power you were using to keep the door in its frame started to fizzle out.
“What else do you want to ridicule me for?” you snapped as soon as he pushed the door open and stepped into your room.
Steve stood there, his chest heaving, his dark eyes raking over every inch of your black and brown mission gear, and it felt like an eternity before he spoke, before he admitted exactly why he was reacting in such a fashion.
“You scared me today, Y/N,” he sighed. “And no, not because of your ability.”
With your jaw clenched, you shrugged your shoulders. “Then why, Steve? Why are you acting like you’re my dad?”
Steve scraped a hand over his face. “Because you could have died.”
“Clint would have died,” you insisted, one of your hands flexing at your side.
“I get that,” Steve huffed. “I do, but Clint… he’s a good friend and I’d do anything to protect him, but… you…” his voice trailed off.
You swallowed around the sudden knot in your throat. “What about me?”
He huffed out a breath through his nose and shook his head. “You’re just so goddamn stubborn.”
“That’s nothing new.”
“You know what I mean,” Steve insisted, one brow arched, his hands on his hips.
The last of the boiling anger left you then, leaving you reeling at the way your emotions rolled around in your chest. You had always found Steve attractive, sexy in that boy-next-door kind of way, after he had graduated high school, gained 45 pounds of muscle, and could bench press a Buick with one hand. But he was Captain America, saving the world, getting on your last nerve, always catching the eye of some damsel in distress.
You crossed the room and looked up at him. “What about me, Steve?”
One corner of his mouth quirked up as he reached up to tuck some hair behind your ear. “If anything happened to you,” he sucked in another shuddering breath, “it just might kill me.”
“What are you talking about?” you demanded to know, confusion pulsing through you. “You berate me, in front of everyone, and all of a sudden, you’re switching gears.” Steve’s jaw clenched and the sight of him, pissed off, towering over you, power flowing off of him in waves, it made your pussy clench, which it had absolutely no right in doing.
“I’m talking ‘bout how a simple order seems to be too confusing for you to understand,” he went off, taking a step towards you. “I’m talking ‘bout how the sight of you, pinned down by gunfire, not caring if you get a bullet between the eyes as long as your teammate lives, makes me want to throw up, how it makes me see red. I’m talking ‘bout the fact that I can’t go a goddamn night without dreaming of you screaming my name as I fuck you.”
Well… that was… unexpected. You stood there, your back close to being plastered against the wall, staring up at Steve as if he had sprouted another head. It took several tries before your voice worked.
“I don’t… um, I don’t understand,” you stammered, lying your ass off. Of course you understood, you felt the exact same way. If anyone, friend or foe, laid a hand on Steve, dared to harm him, you’d slaughter anyone in your path. He was too important to you to risk losing.
His hand was on your face, those long fingers tangling in your hair. “I’m talking ‘bout how I’m in love with you.”
You leaned into his hand and sighed at the realization that couldn’t happen, not now, not ever. “Steve, we can’t.”
“Why not, huh? Because we get on each others nerves and want to kill each other more often than not?” he joked.
“That’s one way of putting it,” you said ruefully, moving to pull back, to put some distance between you, but Steve wasn’t having it. He pulled you to him and dipped his head, smearing a kiss against your lips with a sigh. A muffled sob left your throat at the contact, and as much as you wanted it, needed it, you ground your teeth and shook your head.
Steve huffed loudly. “Stop pushing me away, Y/N.”
Your resolve was crumbling, and it pissed you off. You had spent the last handful of years building a giant wall around your heart in an effort to close yourself off, to keep yourself from getting hurt like you had in the past, to keep yourself from falling in love, and there stood Steve with the ability to turn it to dust, all with five little words.
“I’m not,” you insisted, lying through your teeth to the most noble man you’d ever met. “I’m ensuring our survival.”
You knew he understood what you meant. Being a ‘superhero,’ being an Avenger meant that there was absolutely no room for mistakes and distractions, and falling in love with a member of the team was the biggest distractions there were.
Steve’s jaw clenched once again before he snarled, “Fuck it,” and kissed you.
His tongue was in your mouth, his fists were in your hair, and he was kicking the door shut. Raw lust surged through your body, igniting everything it touched, and it sent you into Steve’s chest, your hands fumbling at the buckle on his waist, desperately wanting to see and touch every inch of his glorious body, wanting to see that dark blue stealth suit on your floor.
With a growl in the back of his throat, Steve tore himself away from you, using your hair for leverage. “Someone’s anxious,” he noted, his dark eyes roaming over you, the air tearing in and out of his lungs.
“Shut up,” you snarled in frustration. You tapped into your powers, just skimming the surface, really, and Steve’s belt came undone.
You surged up to give Steve a searing kiss, all tongues and teeth, as clothes were torn off and tossed to the floor, on the desk, on that chair in the corner where you liked to read when you couldn’t sleep. Moving lightning quick, you pushed Steve onto the bed, climbing between his thick thighs, and taking his cock into your mouth.
“Fuck, doll,” he sneered, his hand in your hair, on the back of your head, urging your mouth further down his shaft until he hit the back of your throat. You choked on his cock, tears streaming down your face, your nails digging into his thighs as he fucked your mouth, his hips snapping off the bed, sinful moans of your name falling from his perfect mouth.
His thighs flexed hypnotically as he pulled your mouth off him, his saliva-coated cock slapping against his stomach. “I ain’t done with you yet,” he vowed, his voice dark and gritty.
You chuckled and shook your head. “My turn, sir.”
Without warning, you used your power to pin Steve’s arms to the bed, above his head, wrists held together with a glowing blue energy. Steve gnawed on his bottom lip as his cock twitched heavily, a fat bead of pre-cum seeping from the tip, as you crawled up the bed, onto Steve’s lap, his cock now in your hand.
You pushed up to your knees and worked his cock between your damp folds, watching as Steve’s eyes rolled back as your slick coated him. With a shift of your hips, you started to take him in, agonizingly slow, relishing in the burn of being stretched out by Steve’s cock. Your power flickered against Steve’s wrists, pulling a surprised gasp from the super soldier. Once you had taken every inch of Steve, your hands fell to his broad chest and your back curved as unbridled and carnal need roared through your veins.
Steve was a man that liked to be in control, on the battlefield, mainly, but in the bedroom, the reigns were in your hands; he was at your mercy. There was a tone of desperation in Steve’s voice when he moaned your name, he wanted you to fuck him, and fuck him hard. Who were you to deny someone something so simple as pleasure?
You found yourself unable to not stare at the super soldier between your legs as you fucked him. He would trap that full bottom lip between his teeth and moan at the sight of you taking his cock, at the sight of your hands on your breasts, fondling them, twisting your painfully hard nipples, at the wet slaps of skin as your bodies met repeatedly.
He would murmur praises of how tight your pussy was, how well you took him. He would beg to touch you, for you to fuck him harder, faster, slower, “I don’t wanna cum yet, doll.” With your senses on overload, and the orgasm bearing down on you like a freight train, the invisible bonds on Steve’s wrists started to weaken.
When you unravelled, coming unglued at the seams, screaming his name like a mantra, Steve’s wrists were freed. He snarled and flipped you to your back, his cock never leaving your spasming pussy. He had one arm under you, his hand clamping onto your shoulder, his thighs spread, opening you wide, his knees into the bed, using every ounce of strength he had to fuck you into oblivion. His shoulders bowed with every determined thrust, driving himself balls deep until he found his release, his shouts muffled only because his mouth was on your shoulder, teeth almost breaking the surface, tongue flicking your skin.
It wasn’t until Steve rolled over, a shuddering sigh leaving the pair of you at the loss of contact, that you realized the headboard was busted, as was the bedframe.
“Looks like I’ll be needing a new bed,” you chuckled, slapping a hand onto Steve’s stomach. “Way to go, Cap.”
“Uh uh,” he argued, his chest heaving as he pushed up to his elbow. “That was all you.”
You snorted and rolled your eyes. “I’m not the one with super soldier serum pumping through their veins,” you shot back, pushing off the bed. You looked over your shoulder and caught him ogling your ass, which you didn’t dislike.
“Where you goin?” he asked as you stepped into the bathroom.
You turned on the shower before answering. “Get your ass in here and help me break something else.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, grinning to himself as he shot off the bed.
Summary: After spending more than two months as a prisoner on The Raft, Steve comes to your rescue, but it’s not the kind of rescue you’d dreamed of. Word Count: 1,076 Warnings: Heavy angst Author’s Note: GIF credit
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
Being an Avenger meant long nights and endless days that blurred together, countless missions and high body counts that could have been prevented. So, when The Accords were signed, you knew your life was going to be different. Little did you know just how much it would change.
With Steve going off-script, you were held prisoner on The Raft, a giant floating prison in the middle of the goddamn ocean. Thankfully, you weren’t alone. Wanda and Clint were housed on to your left, Sam and Scott resided on your right. You were smack in the middle of one of the most dysfunctional ‘families’ you’d had the privilege of knowing.
General Ross would come into the ward and stroll leisurely past each cell, not saying a word to the prisoners, a scowl on his brow, hands clasped behind his back. He’d walk the circumference of the room for an hour, stand directly in front of your cell, and glare at you, and every time you’d shake your head and scoff. Day after day, for almost two months, Ross kept it up, and then one day, Thaddeus actually spoke to you.
“One day, Miss Y/L/N,” he murmured, stepping close to your cell, close enough that his breath fogged the shatter-and-supernatural-power-resistant glass, “you’ll tell me where he is.”
A lopsided smirk tugged at your lips as you leveled him with a cold glare. “Hate to disappoint you, Ross, but that ain’t gonna happen.”
Clint was chuckling to your left. “You really think that she’s going to break? Christ, man, you have no idea what… who you’re dealin’ with.”
“She’s a traitor, that’s what she is,” Ross snarled. “A goddamn menace, just like you, just like the lot of you.”
“No wonder your daughter hates you,” Clint said, knowing exactly how dear old daddy would react.
Thaddeus slapped his hand against the glass and growled, “You leave Betty out of this!”
It was your turn to have a little fun. “What are you gonna do, Thaddeus, ground us?” You absolutely refused to give the man any formal greeting, he was a disgrace to his rank, he was a disgrace to this country.
Sam started laughing, the rich tone of it soothed the itch in the back of your mind. You were desperate to unleash your power, to rid the man of his flesh, strip by strip. With an inward shrug, you wondered when you got so violent. You had a temper, sure, but the urge to lash out and cause physical harm to someone that was pissing you off was new.
General Ross took in a deep and shuddering breath, readjusted his suit jacket, and stared at you for a solid thirty seconds before giving an order. “Solitary confinement, thirty days.”
It was the fifteenth day with no lights, no sound, no human contact, that you knew something was… off. Not with you so much, though you were exhausted and your stomach had been rolling, but that was because you had been stuck in the middle of the ocean for over two months. No one was meant to handle that well. It was atmosphere within the prison that shifted, and it danced along your skin like an electric spark.
The lights were flicked on, blinding the group, pulling irritated groans from each member of the dismantled Avengers. With your hands on the glass, you stood on shaking legs, and tried to get your eyes to focus on the person that emerged from the shadows.
“Ste- Steve?” you gasped, unwilling to believe that your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you once again.
He stood there, smirking at you. “Yeah, doll, it’s me.” The cell doors opened a second later, and you lunged into his arms, sobbing into the crook of his neck, feeling only slightly embarrassed at how you were handling the situation.
Steve pressed kisses to your wet face and lips before shaking his head. “We don’t have much time.” Natasha was removing the shackles from Wanda, helping the catatonic woman out of the room and onto the quinjet that was undoubtedly waiting for everyone.
“Where are we going?” you rasped, your stomach rolling as the raft pitched.
“I’m taking Bucky someplace safe,” he assured you, his eyes flicking over your face as if memorizing your features.
You shook your head and gripped onto the lapels of his jacket. “Where are we going, Steve?” you asked again, knowing damn well he wasn’t going to answer you.
Steve pressed a firm kiss to your forehead before calling Clint and Scott over. “I want you to go with them,” he started, but you weren’t having it.
“No,” you argued loudly. “I’m going with you. I’ll be safe with you.” Besides, there was something very important you needed to tell him, something nobody else knew.
Clint was next to you, pulling you away from Steve at the super soldier’s insistence. “It’s for the best, Y/N,” Clint assured you.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you snarled, your powers flaring up, your hands glowing dark blue. Steve sniffled loudly as he signaled to someone behind you, as the device Wanda had been wearing around her neck was slapped onto yours. Scott was apologizing as he came out from behind you.
“What’d you do?” you demanded to know, your power fizzling out quickly.
“What I had to do to save you,” Steve answered. He kissed you, a firm press of his lips against yours, and then he was gone, the echo of a whispered, “I love you,” running rampant through your mind.
You were kicking and screaming, doing everything in your physical power to get away from Scott and Clint, but without your powers, you were weak, a literal damsel in distress, and you fucking hated it.
“I have to tell him, Clint,” you begged, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, desperation clinging to your voice.
Clint’s lips were pulled into a tight line as he held you against him, your arms crossed over your chest, Scott’s hands holding yours against your sides. “Tell him what, Y/N?”
You figured it out the week prior, when you couldn’t hold down any food or water, when the slightest motion set off your gag reflex. Your mind was a flurry of calculations and angry words of denial, but when Steve’s face came into focus, you knew you couldn’t deny it any longer.
“I have to tell him that I’m pregnant,” you wailed desperately.
Title: Midnight Madness Summary: Thor isn’t taking too kindly to the newest addition; Ollie Word Count: 454 [tags under the cut] Warnings: Ornery Bucky and reader, language Author’s Note: Y’all can thank @flamehairedwritings for these drabbles. I love you!
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
Bucky’s arm was thrown over his eyes, Oliver curled into his armpit, snoring softly, though Bucky couldn’t figure out how the damn cat could be asleep, what with Thor screaming bloody murder at the end of the bed. The super soldier wanted to kick the damn cat off the bed, but he was so damn exhausted and frustrated, he’d probably kill the feline.
“I swear to God, Y/N,” he ground out through his teeth. “If your cat doesn’t stop screaming bloody murder, I’m going to fucking kill him.”
You flopped over and glared at him. “MY cat,” you cried out, your bloodshot eyes wide. “MY cat wasn’t like this until you decided that you just had to get one for yourself. Besides, you hate cats!”
Yeah, okay, you had a point, but Bucky wasn’t going to let you know that.
“Your cat is the one acting like a toddler that got his favorite toy snatched away!”
“This is all Oliver’s fault,” you huffed, thrusting a finger toward the sleeping cat. You didn’t hate Oliver, you really didn’t, but every since he had joined your family, Thor had been acting like a little bitch, and it was exhausting.
Bucky sat up abruptly, his mouth hanging open, metallic fingers working through the cat’s snow white fur. “Ollie is cute,” he argued, “and Thor,” he thrusted a finger at the still-yowling Maine Coon cat, “is not a fucking cat. That’s a goddamn predator.”
You snorted in disbelief. “You’re joking, right? Thor wouldn’t lay a paw on Ollie.”
“You don’t know what they’re like while you’re at work, Y/N. You wouldn’t understand. This place is a circus you have no idea,” Bucky insisted. He picked up Oliver and pressed their noses together, making kissing sounds as Oliver purred loudly.
“Wow,” you chuckled. “You’ve lost it.”
“Have not,” Bucky huffed.
You stared at him incredulously. “You’re doing everything you give me shit for doing to Thor. So yeah, you’ve gone overboard. You’re now a cat person.”
Bucky got up from the bed, his pillow tucked under one arm, Ollie draped over his shoulders. “You take that back.”
“Nope, not happening,” you shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips
Thor quit howling, sauntered up the bed, and dropped next to you, his tail flicking back and forth as your hand dropped to his side.
Glaring at him, Bucky shook his head. “You are a fucking menace,” he snarled before storming out.
Once they were situated on the couch, Ollie looked up at Bucky, his bi-colored eyes slightly crossed and dopey looking as he meowed softly.
Bucky scratched behind Ollie’s ear, huffing out a laugh at the way it twitched back and forth. “Don’t worry, he’ll learn.”
Summary: You’ve seen Bucky around the compound, but never in a million years did you think that he would be attracted to someone like you. Word Count: 2,595 Warnings: Language, rough explicit sexual content, praise!kink, Bucky talking in Russian because yes, that is a warning in and of itself. Author’s Note: Bucky is pretty forward in this fic. He finds you sexy and he lets you know it. Google Translate was used. Any errors are because of Google. A request was sent in by anon that worked well with this work in process. Could I request a Female Reader/Bucky where Bucky is dirty talking reader in Russian, but Bucky throws in a few sweet/ cute things inbetween all the dirty stuff unaware reader can understand him perfectly?
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
The first time you met Bucky Barnes, you were trailing Tony from one meeting to the next, up three flights of stairs, down two, all while wearing four inch heels. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle it, the multiple flights of stairs, numerous times a day, it was the looks everyone shot you that made you doubt yourself.
You knew those looks all too well, you had seen them every day of your life. They weren’t jealous of you in any way, they felt bad for you because you were a plus size woman. You wore a size twenty-four, your bra size was forty-two DD, your stomach and thighs were soft, jiggling when you jogged, but you worked hard not to let their words pierce through the armor you spent years crafting.
You had just rounded a corner, your eyes on the mobile device in your hand, telling Tony who would be in attendance for the next meeting, when you walked into a brick wall. At least, it felt like a brick wall. That was until an arm was secured around your waist, holding you against a solid chest, a screech caught in your throat, your hands scrambling for purchase.
“I got you, doll,” the brick wall gruffed, his fingers digging into your back, but not painfully.
“I… I’m so- sorry,” you stammered, your heart hammering in your throat. “I wasn’t watching -”
“I wasn’t either,” he interrupted, his ocean-blue eyes cutting right through you.
“Hey, Ice Man,” called Tony. “Get your hands off my intern.”
You planted your feet and found yourself sighing in disappointment when his arm fell away. “Thank you, for, uh, for catching me.”
“Yeah, no problem,” he murmured, his eyes flitting over your face.
“Miss Y/L/N, come on,” Tony insisted, finger tapping his crazy expensive watch.
You gave your rescuer a warm smile before running off to join your boss.
Four days later, you found yourself in almost the same position, only it wasn’t a ruggedly handsome individual you plowed into, it was Pepper Potts, and you were carrying a mug of coffee. You squeezed your eyes shut and worked to suppress the shocked shout that was scurrying up your throat. When you opened your eyes, Pepper’s lips were pulled into a tight line as she surveyed her ruined clothes.
“Oh, shit, Pep- Miss Potts,” you wheezed. “I’m so sorry!” You put the files and mug you had been carrying onto the desk behind you, ignoring the protest of whoever was working there, and ushered Pepper towards the bathroom.
“Y/N,” she said calmly. “I’m okay. I just need a change of clothes.”
You stared at her for a second too long before saying, “Absolutely, I’ll call Happy and he can bring you -”
“That won’t be necessary,” Pepper insisted. “I have spare clothes here. Now what about you, are you alright?”
With your brows pulled together, you looked down at your clothes and blew out a heavy breath. “I just bought these,” you groaned.
“Come with me,” Pepper instructed, a warm smile on her face. “We’ll get you fixed up.”
Twenty minutes later, you were in a secure room, pulling off the coffee-sodden clothing and dropping them into a plastic bag. Pepper was already wearing freshly pressed clothes, and standing there, almost naked in front of her, you felt insecure and tried hiding your stomach behind your arms.
“I’ll send this to get cleaned. It should be ready before the end of the day,” she said as she tied a knot onto the bag.
“No rush, Miss Potts.”
“Call me Pepper, please.” She handed you a towel, which you immediately wrapped around yourself, surprised that it actually encompassed you completely.
You followed her into a room that had a variety of clothing in many different sizes. “Wow, this is awesome,” you couldn’t help but say.
“I insisted we supply more than the run-of-the-mill office supplies. Tony didn’t agree with me at first, but as you can see…” her voice trailed off as she waved her hand.
“This is probably the best idea in the history of great ideas,” you laughed.
Pepper laughed with you for a moment before her watch started beeping. “There’s a washroom and changing area just over there, Y/N. You can leave the towel when you’re done.”
You told her how much you appreciated everything she had done, smiling when she excused herself. Finding the section that contained clothes that would actually fit you, you about cried at the wide variety before you, and made a mental note to send Pepper a thank you note of some kind.
Quickly grabbing an outfit, you made your way into the room Pepper had pointed out, and tossed the towel into the hamper. It didn’t take you long to figure out you weren’t alone; you felt the weight of their eyes before a noise was made.
“I know the world has changed a lot in the past seventy-five years, but I think you have the wrong room,” he chuckled.
You knew that voice, it was the guy that saved you from falling the other day. With the shirt held to your chest, you whirled around to find him standing there, water dripping from his long hair onto the unbuttoned blue shirt he was wearing, a towel hastily wrapped around his waist, and his feet bare.
“I, uh, see, funny thing,” you stammered, your face going flush. “Wait… are you… you’re Bucky Barnes.”
With a brow arched, he gave a curt nod. “You’re one of the brighter ones Tony’s brought on,” he joked.
You swallowed heavily at the way his eyes roamed over your exposed skin. “Believe it or not, you’re not the first person to tell me that.”
“I believe it.” Bucky didn’t move to go back the way he had come, or take his eyes from you. “You’re also the sexiest.”
“Wait… what?” you rasped, confusion heavy on your tongue. Before giving him a chance to answer, you shook your head and started to quickly tug on the clothes. “Pepper didn’t tell me there were men and women changing areas. I… I didn’t know. I’ll just -”
Bucky was leaning back against the wall, one foot crossed over the other, and a dark gleam in his eyes. “Don’t leave on account of me, doll,” he insisted. “Besides, I’m enjoying the view.”
A blush colored your chest and neck under the weight of his gaze. “I’m just… you know,” you stammered. “I have a job to do.”
With his bottom lip between his teeth, Bucky hummed. “Tell Tony you were with me.”
A laugh bubbled in your throat as you started to button the shirt, giving Bucky a nice view of your ample breasts. “And what should I tell him we were doing?”
“You could tell him that we were naked, in a room, just the two of us,” he breathed, reaching out to tuck some hair behind your ear. Your head jerked up because, goddamn, when the hell did he walk across the room and how had you not heard him. When your eyes locked onto his, you sucked in a stuttering breath.
A wicked smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You alright, doll?” Bucky asked, his finger skimming along your jaw, pulling goosebumps to the surface.
Your mouth was dry as cotton and your lungs decided not to work properly. “I uh,” there was this vein in the side of his neck that was pulsing heavily, “why wou- wouldn’t,” and you really wanted to lick it, for starters, “I be?”
Bucky’s head tipped to the side and for a second, his eyes glazed over as if he were focusing on a sound, a sound that you were convinced was your heart beating against your ribcage like a trapped hummingbird, or the rush of arousal that settled heavily between your legs. His pupils blew wide as he gnawed on his bottom lip.
“I can smell you, doll,” he murmured, all up in your personal space, those long fingers now on your neck.
You hadn’t realized that the closer Bucky got, you took a step back, desperate to put some space between the two of you. He was too close, he smelled too good, and God, you could see his cock growing harder behind the towel he wore.
A whining moan spilled from your lips as your back hit the wall. “And what do I smell like?”
Bucky bent down to whisper in your ear. “Good enough to eat.” His lips were on your neck, sucking and biting when you tipped your head to the side, giving him ample room.
You’d dreamed about Bucky before, about what his mouth would feel like on your flushed skin, about the sounds he would pull from you, but this was one of those times where reality was definitely better than fantasy.
Bucky’s metallic hand ripped the front of your shirt open, sending plastic buttons skittering across the floor. When his mouth covered yours, his tongue pushing between your lips, he pulled down the lace cups of your bra, spilling your breasts into his hands. Your back came off the wall at that simple gesture. Not a lot of men had paid attention to your breasts.
“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he praised, his lips against your neck and chest, moving closer to your breasts. He sucked bruises onto them as his fingers teased and plucked your nipples.
You were already panting and he hadn’t even done anything yet. His thigh was between yours and his hips were rocking against yours, making you wetter by the second. You watched as he lavished your breasts with attention they had been missing, and the sight of him biting into the soft flesh made you whimper.
“You like that, baby girl?” Bucky chuckled darkly before biting you harder. You hissed in appreciation and rocked your hips harder against his. “Да, ты делаешь.” [Yeah, you do.]
You had tried to hook your leg around his, to pull him close, to feel his cock throb against you, but he he was already dropping to his knees, his mouth and fingers – flesh and metallic – marking you, ripping the clothes from your body, worshipping you. Bucky growled when his nose brushed against the damp curls between your legs and his thumbs dug into your thighs.
“Lemme see that pussy,” he purred, his breath fanning against your overheated skin.
You hesitated for a moment, no one had gone down on you in… well, years, and those that did, you had to promise to give the best head they could only dream about. Being overweight meant that you were the third wheel, the fat friend that only got laid because they were wearing their beer goggles.
Bucky’s lips pressed to your plush stomach. “Come on, baby girl. I won’t bite. Unless that’s what you want,” he teased with a wink. Swallowing around the knot in your throat, you spread your legs after kicking off the skirt and panties that Bucky had pushed down with his hands.
“Такая хорошая девочка,” he murmured. [Such a good girl.]
With one hand on the back of your thigh, Bucky brought it up to rest on his right shoulder as he nudged at your pussy with his nose, pulling in a deep breath that vibrated through him. “Черт, я не могу дождаться, чтобы попробовать тебя,” he growled. [Fuck, I can’t wait to taste you.]
The breath that your lungs had been holding hostage bursts out when Buck pushed two fingers between your dripping folds, easing them back and forth, spreading your arousal over his cool metallic fingers. You hissed as he teased your tight hole, pushing in just the tip of his middle finger.
“Bu- Bucky, please,” you rasped, a breast in one hand, the other on your belly. With a smirk, he looked up at you through his lashes and pushed his finger in to the third knuckle, and if you had been able to think clearly, you would have sworn that it started rotating. Your hips rocked against his hand and you let loose a low moan that made the man between your legs shudder.
Bucky stroked you, adding another finger when you begged him for more, going three knuckles deep, and telling you that he couldn’t wait, “To get my cock inside you.”
He put his mouth on you, flicking your clit, sucking greedily on it, swirling his talented tongue around every inch of your pussy that he could reach. It joined his fingers, thrusting in tandem, both of them curling and hitting every spot that would make you see stars.
You came on his fingers and tongue, a harsh shout of his name filling the small room. It was – hands down – the best orgasm you’d ever had, it made you see stars and witness galaxies being born, it had you feeling light-headed and wishing you could feel this way one hundred percent of the time. And just when you thought you could die a happy woman, Bucky was kissing you, forcing you to taste yourself, and his cock was filling you, stretching you so completely that it made your eyes roll back in your head.
“Так плотно, девочка,” was his growling praise when his pelvis met yours. [So tight, baby girl.]
There were these things called words that you wanted to say, string together to form a sentence, but you couldn’t, because Bucky’s hands were on your thighs, lifting you from the floor, and he was slamming your ass into the wall with a growl. Your nails were digging into Bucky’s shoulder, probably drawing blood, but neither of you cared. Bucky was snarling into the crook of your neck, his teeth scraping your skin, leaving marks that would definitely hurt later.
Every thrust took Bucky balls deep and you squeezed his cock every time.
“Я собираюсь кончить, если вы держите это,” he warned darkly, his fingers squeezing you, yanking you to him harder, pushing himself deeper. [I’m gonna cum if you keep that up.]
Wearing a smirk and squeezing your pussy around his throbbing cock again, you said, “Тогда диплом, Баки.” [Then cum, Bucky.] His dark eyes bore into yours and he sneered in a way that probably should have scared you, but it sent a wave of arousal to your pussy.
“Ты просил об этом,” he growled. [You asked for it.]
Bucky’s hands were on your ass and he spread his feet, pulling you into him as he pounded into you. Your eyes rolled back as the orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, sending you flying into outer space, unraveling you from the inside out. Bucky’s cock swelled and pulsed, twitching heavily as he came, your name sounding like sin on his tongue.
The next thing you knew, you were in a bathtub, bubbles and hot water up to your neck. Bucky was behind you, his mouth next to your ear, his hands moving gingerly over your bruises.
“Ты такая красивая,” he murmured, peppering your neck with kisses, sighing contentedly as you craned your neck. [You’re so beautiful.]
You hummed in appreciation. “You’re not so bad to look at either,” you joked, your voice broken.
Bucky sucked another mark on your neck, moaning low in his throat at the way your hands explored and squeezed his thighs. “You’re going to have to take the rest of the day off.”
“Just the day?” you asked, turning to catch his lips in yours.
The water sloshed over the sides as he expertly maneuvered you so that you were straddling his lap. “For starters.”
Summary: Steve Rogers wearing his stealth suit is a sight to behold. Word Count: 1,591 Warnings: Language, explicit rough sexual content, dom!Steve Author’s Note: Blame Steven Grant Rogers for this fic. It’s all his fault. God bless him.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
It wasn’t fair. No one should look that sexy, it should be illegal. But there he was, wearing a dark blue suit, the matte silver star on his chest heaving with every ragged breath he pulled into his lungs. His normally crystal eyes were flashing, dark and dangerous, as if you were his mission and he would do anything to take you out. Steve’s hands were flexing at his sides and you wouldn’t be surprised if the brown holster that curved over his shoulders snapped in half if he gave them a shrug.
You wanted to go over to him and suck on those pillowy lips of his, drive your fingers through his blonde hair, and see if his narrow waist fit between your legs as perfectly as they did in your dreams. Despite the lust that was coursing through you, you remained where you were and watched as Steve gave Nick Fury a piece of his mind.
“I don’t care what the counsel says,” Steve roared, his cheeks flushing, a vein pulsing in the side of his neck.
You didn’t… couldn’t pay attention to anything Nick was saying, not when Captain fucking America was standing there, raging, looking so very fuckable. Not that you could do anything about it, Steve was a friend, a friend that you dreamt about every single night. Oh, the things you wanted to do to that man.
So, why hadn’t you gone for it? Well, it was simple really. Steve was your good friend. You saw the way he looked at you, and he never once looked at you like he wanted to hold you in his arms and kiss you breathless.
“Fuck you, Fury,” Steve growled before slamming the door hard enough that the floor-to-ceiling windows shattered. He stormed past your desk and gave a curt nod. His jaw was so tight it looked like it’d cut your thighs if you sat on his face.
Giving yourself a mental shake, you ignored Nick’s shouts of your names and jogged after the super soldier, calling after him, “You okay?”
Steve stopped and hung his head as he heaved out a breath. “No, not really,” he answered as soon as you had caught up to him.
You could feel his anger as if it were a physical being, pushing against you, the heat of it surrounding you. You pulled in a stuttering breath and grabbed his hand, something you had done countless times before. So, why did your pussy clench, why was the air between you so thick, why did you want to grab his gloved hand, push it under your shirt, and feel the buttery leather against your skin?
“Is there anything I can do to help?” you rasped.
Steve licked his lips as his eyes drilled into yours. “Yeah,” he answered, his voice low and gritty. “There is.” He ripped open the door and pulled you in behind him. It was dark, you had no idea what the room was used for, but you didn’t have any time to dwell on it because the door was slammed closed and the lock was thrown.
He was on you a heartbeat later, kissing you almost savagely, dominating your senses as he pushed you against the wall, his hands tugging impatiently at your clothes, making noises in the back of his throat that sent a shiver down your spine, a shiver that made your back arch painfully. You held onto him, your fingers digging into the holster around his shoulders, your nails catching on the seams as you echoed his moans with your own.
Steve had his hand between your legs, his fingers working between your damp folds. “So wet, doll,” he purred, his teeth catching on your earlobe. “You always this wet when you think of me?”
“Yes, sir,” you panted, your hips rolling.
He growled in appreciation and pushed one long digit into your weeping pussy. “Say it again,” he ordered. You obeyed his command, earning yourself another searing kiss as he stroked you. He added another finger, pushing in to his third knuckle.
You fumbled with the buckle at his waist, desperate to feel his cock in your hand, to feel the heavy weight of it, to drive him as crazy as you were. Steve chuckled deep in his throat at your eagerness as he fucked you, filling your ears with the wet sucking sounds of your pussy as it squeezed around his fingers.
“Can’t wait to get my cock in you, doll,” Steve groaned as you finally got a hold of his cock.
You sucked in a breath when you finally realized just how big Steve was. You’d imagined it, dreamt of it, but none of those times prepared you for what was currently happening. Smearing the fat beads of pre-cum around the wide head of his cock, Steve’s hips jerked.
“Fuck,” he hissed. The palm of his hand pressed into your clit, massaging it as he continued to finger you, driving you higher and higher until you felt like you were going to burst apart at the seams.
Steve was sucking a mark on your neck, teeth scraping, tongue laving over it, when he crooked his fingers. You came with a shout of his name, squeezing his cock as you pumped him, your fluttering walls clamping onto his fingers. The orgasm was still roaring through you when Steve grabbed your ass, hauled you off the floor as though you weighed nothing, and entered you so quickly that you tried pushing him away because it was too much, too fast.
“You can take it, Y/N,” Steve groaned, his damp forehead on yours, hot breath blasting against your open mouth.
You were shaking your head and still trying to push him away. “No, too… too big.”
Steve was inching in and out of you, raining kisses to your sweaty neck. “You’re so tight. Guess I didn’t do a good enough job,” he chuckled. “I’ll have to remember that for next time.”
The pain started to fade, and hot on the heels of it was such ecstacy you’d never had the pleasure of knowing. Every drag of his cock, every drive of his hips between your thighs was euphoric, an out-of-body experience, and you never wanted it to stop.
He was digging bruises into your hips as he fucked you, his mouth was on your breasts, sucking dark marks on them, biting the soft flesh, tugging your pert nipples between his teeth so that a jolt of pain shot down your spine, making you impossibly wetter. Your ass slapped against the wall rhythmically, each one louder and harder than the one previous. You were a whimpering mess as he filled you, going deeper and deeper, harder, until you didn’t know where he ended and you began. Your bodies pulsed together, as though you were one being.
“Come on, doll,” Steve ground out. “Let me feel you cum on my cock.”
As if your body were an instrument that only he knew how to play, you came with a shattered cry of his name. Thousands of stars burst behind your eyelids as the white-hot orgasm slammed into you. You pulsed around him, tighter than before, pulling a grunt from the super soldier that made goosebumps break out over every inch of you.
Steve’s hips jerked and the drywall behind you cracked, not that you paid it any attention. Everything was Steve and the way his cock swelled, the heavy pulse of it as he came, the way he cursed, all breathy and raspy and God, it sounded so fucking good.
The two of you stayed there, panting, shuddering, kissing, until his cock went soft. He set you down and held you there until you were sure your legs would support your weight. Even then, you didn’t trust yourself.
“Let me,” Steve said after the metal of the buckle clanged loudly in the small space. You giggled as his hair tickled your stomach as he bent down and grabbed your clothing. He helped you redress, waiting until you murmured your thanks before kissing you again. You sighed against his lips and melted into him, but the moment was over too fast for your liking.
Steve’s hand flew up to the comm in his ear. “I’m on my way.”
He was brushing the hair from your forehead a moment later. “Wheels up in ten,” he muttered.
You couldn’t hide the groan of disappointment as you leaned into his hand. “When will you be back?”
“Couple of days,” Steve answered. “A week at the most.”
Your stomach was flipping nervously, you always hated when he went on a mission, you never knew what shape he was going to be coming back in, or coming back at all. As if he could hear the way your heart was pounding, Steve dipped his head and caught your lips in a lazy kiss.
“I’m coming back, sweetheart,” he vowed, his nose brushing against yours.
With your hand on the back of his neck, you pressed your forehead to his and sighed. “You better.”
Steve huffed out a breath through his nose, gave you a chaste kiss, and opened the door. He didn’t say anything before walking out. You stood in the doorway and watched as he strode down the hall. You didn’t move until he was out of sight, even then, you lingered there for a moment, running your hands through your hair and trying not to blush and giggle like a schoolgirl at the realization of what had just happened.
Summary: You thought you had left the mean girl clique in high school. Turns out, they’re not the only one whose attention you hold. Word Count: 1,750 Warnings: Language, angst, skinny bitches bringing down your self-esteem, Tony’s kind of a dick, but then he makes up for it. Author’s Note: @xgminigypsy requested a Bucky x plus size reader where the reader is an intern for Tony and Bucky’s a little bit obsessed with her but doesn’t know how to start up a conversation with someone as modern as her? And she ends up asking him out instead?
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
“Talking to her would probably help,” Steve teased his best friend.
Bucky was standing at the railing, forearms pressed into it, one foot kicked over the other, looking at the team of people below, a flurry of activity as deadlines were approaching, as some had already passed, leaving a handful of people frazzled and literally pulling at their hair, but that wasn’t what… who held the super soldier’s attention. It was the one person that remained calm amidst the chaos.
You had become an intern at the Avengers compound – okay, you were Tony Stark’s intern – a year ago, and Bucky hadn’t been able to look away since. You weren’t like other women; you weren’t superficial, didn’t obsess about the way you looked or wear an obscene amount of makeup, you cared about your job, making Tony happy.
So why hadn’t Bucky said more than ten words to you in that time?
“A little young for you,” Steve continued to tease. “Come on, man. You like her.”
Bucky let out a huff through his nose. “I don’t even know her.”
“And yet,” Steve sighed, hand on Bucky’s shoulder, “you can’t take your eyes off her.”
“Yeah,” was all he said, and Steve left it at that.
You weren’t blind, you knew why they brought you on as Tony’s intern; you didn’t look like the rest of the women employed by S.H.I.E.L.D., and you were okay with that. You were what many called plus size, big boned, full figured; you had so many curves that if you were a road, you’d be considered dangerous to drive on, but you had long ago accepted the body you had been given. That didn’t mean you were oblivious to the way people talked about you, their words still stung, breathed life into the self-deprecating voice in the back of your mind.
God, you were bored. You had thought that being Tony’s intern would be exciting, adventurous, thrilling; but it was anything but that. You spent most of your days sitting at the desk outside his office, working on endless documents that varied from attending a ‘coming out party’ for the latest up-and-coming technological superstar, to a birthday party invitation from the President’s daughter.
With a groan, you pushed away from your desk and went for a walk through the compound, you could only deal with the mind-numbing drivel for so long. Your ID card was equipped with top level clearance – just one of the may perks working for Tony Stark came with – and it got you into areas that most people would kill for.
You were rubbing your eyes as you rounded a corner, so you didn’t see who it was that you barrelled into. Strong arms were around your waist, preventing you from falling to your ass. Your head jerked back and you grabbed onto a wide set of shoulders.
“Shit, doll,” he ground out, his breath hot on your face. “You alright?”
You knew that voice, it was Bucky, the man that you had been secretly lusting over since your first day in Mr. Stark’s employ. You opened your eyes and it was as if the air was sucked from your lungs. Icy orbs flitted over your features, reading each micro-expression as they formed, determining if you were hurt in any way.
“I, uh, yeah,” you finally managed to utter.
His brows pulled together as he stood tall and loosened his grip. “You sure?”
You didn’t notice that your hands were shaking as they fell to your side. “Honestly? I’m more embarrassed than anything. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“Then we’re both equally at fault,” he mused, and for a moment, you thought that maybe he’d stay and talk to you, but that moment was shattered when the phone in your pocket buzzed.
With your jaw clenched, you dislodged the phone and raised it to your ear. “Where are the files I asked for?”
“They’re on your desk, Mr. Stark,” you said through grinding teeth.
“I’ve looked on my desk, Miss Y/L/N,” Tony snapped. “I suggest you stop flirting and get your ass down here.”
You whirled around to find Tony standing by your desk, dark eyes drilling through you, and his finger urging you get down there as soon as possible. “On my way,” you mumbled.
“Sorry to bump into you and run,” you started to say as you turned, but there was nobody there. It was as if Bucky vanished into thin air. With a resigned sigh, you trudged back the way you had come, ignoring the stares and whispers of the people you passed.
Bucky was driving his fists deep into the punching bag, over and over again, imagining it was himself that he was punching. He felt so stupid for running away like a child, scared to talk to the girl he had a crush on, but that was exactly what he did. As soon as Y/N turned to lay eyes on her boss, Bucky seized the opportunity to get away without that moment of an awkward goodbye.
“Yeah, right,” he snarled, sweat dripping down his face. “Like it’s not fuckin’ awkward.”
“You talkin’ to yourself, old timer?” Steve joked as he came into the gym.
“Sometimes I need expert advice,” Bucky scoffed.
Steve watched his best friend pound away for several moments before asking, “How’s that working out for ya?”
With a grunt, Bucky sent his fist into the bag. “Fuckin’ fantastic.”
“You never could lie to me,” Steve noted, tossing a towel at his friend. “Does it have anything to do with Y/N?”
Bucky caught it in one hand and wiped it over his face and the back of his neck. “I ran into her today, literally,” he admitted with a roll of his eyes. “Managed to catch her before she landed on her ass, but…” his voice trailed off as he shrugged his shoulders.
“Did you at least talk to her?”
“She’s too modern for me, Steve,” Bucky shot back. “There’s no chance in hell for me.”
“You don’t know that,” Steve insisted.
Bucky didn’t say anything more, he just grabbed his bottle of water and stormed out, leaving Steve to clean up.
“Did you see the way she plowed into him?” Staci asked her best friend, her voice shrill.
“Thank goodness he’s a super soldier,” Theresa gasped. “She could have killed him.”
Yeah, they were talking about you, again. The two women reminded you of what it was like in high school, the skinny and popular girls talking viciously about those that were softer, near the bottom of the food chain. You held your breath and prayed that your body didn’t betray you by making a noise as you sat on the toilet, farthest stall down, the one meant for handicapped people because let’s face it, you couldn’t turn around in the narrow ones.
“Poor Bucky,” Staci cackled. “I’m surprised he was able to keep her from falling.”
Tears streamed down your face and you wiped at them furiously, hating the way a few simple words made you feel.
Theresa had to grab the sink to keep from falling as she laughed. “Jesus Christ, stop it. I can’t breathe.”
“Just imagine it,” Staci wheezed.
“But did you see his face when he ran away?” Traci barked. “He looked so fucking scared.”
It was becoming painfully clear that the two women you hated weren’t going to be leaving anytime soon. You pulled in one ragged breath, and another before finishing your business. You heard them clear their throats as the toilet flushed. They were staring at their perfect reflections, both applying a fresh coat of lip gloss as you approached the sink.
“Staci, Theresa,” you greeted with a forced smile as you washed your hands.
The two women both murmured your name before turning on their heels and strutting out of the bathroom. You turned off the water and dried your hands on a paper towel as you followed them, the door almost hitting you in the face. Staci and Theresa stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of Bucky, his arms crossed, sitting on the edge of your desk, a scowl on his brow.
You just rolled your eyes at the women as you rounded them. “Some of us have work to do,” you muttered as you sat down.
Before Staci and Theresa could turn on the charm and start flirting with the super soldier, Bucky shook his head. “I wonder,” he mused, “if Tony knows exactly what kind of people he employs.”
Staci’s eyes went wide. “We were just joking around,” she tried to explain.
“Because I happen to know that bullying -”
“That’s not what happened,” Theresa interrupted.
Bucky glared at her as he continued, “Bullying is a one way ticket out the front door. Isn’t that right, Tony?”
You whirled around to see Tony standing there, back against the wall. “It sure is, Sergeant,” he answered coolly. “Ladies, do come in.” He gestured for them to enter his office.
They tried to argue, to say that they hadn’t meant for your feelings to get hurt, that they didn’t know you were in there, that it was all harmless fun, but Tony wasn’t having it. His eyes flashed in anger and he ordered them to go into his office. Once they slinked past, Tony dropped a hand to your shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
You waited until the door was closed before facing Bucky. “Is he really going to fire them?”
“Fuck, I hope so,” Bucky snarled.
“They don’t…” guilt made your heart catch. “They were just words,” you sighed heavily.
“I heard them, Y/N,” he murmured. “Those two are cruel and need to know that what they did, how they treated you, how they treat you everyday, is not okay.”
There was such kindness in his eyes that when you looked up at him it became difficult to breathe. “Why do you care so much?” The words were out of your mouth before your brain could tell you to stop, that it was a question that shouldn’t be asked.
Bucky smiled gently and it made butterflies form in your stomach. “Because I like you, Y/N. I like you a lot.”
Since you had already verbal vomited once, your brain decided to keep going. “Do you wanna go out with me?”
Summary: Steve Rogers is the CEO of his own company, and he’s a man that has never heard the word no from anyone. He goes after what he wants and he gets it, no matter the cost. You’re doing your best; sharing an apartment with your best friend, struggling through college, trying to make your own imprint on this world. The two of you cross paths when, as a favor to your friend, you interview him for a magazine. Without meaning to, you catch the attention of the insanely wealthy and intense bachelor. Word Count: 3,446 Warnings for Series: Angst, fluff, explicit rough & consensual sexual content, dub-con, dom!Steve, sub!reader, talk of past abusive dom / dub relationship, mentions of cheating, animal cruelty [no details], possibly more to come. Author’s Note: Yes. There are going to be similarities to 50 Shades of Grey. This isn’t exactly a rewrite, this is my take on how it should have been. This fic wouldn’t be possible without @captain-rogers-beard and @climbthatmooselikeatree, their support and assistance has been invaluable.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
Monday seemed to rush at you like a freight train. It was the first day of your new job, and you were a bundle of nerves. It didn’t help that Steve was hell bent on Bucky joining you.
“It’s my first day, Steve,” you basically whined as you pulled on a black sweater. “Mr. Zemo was already uncomfortable about Bucky being there, and it was only the interview.”
“He’s going, Y/N,” Steve ordered, his eyes dark and a finger pointed at you. “And that’s final.”
Bucky was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll be out of the way,” he added. “They won’t notice me.”
You turned to look at him, your brow arched, eyes dragging heavily over him. “You’re not exactly the blend-into-the-background type of guy, Buck.”
He barely hid a snort of amusement at your comment. “Nobody is going to trip over me, okay?”
“Fine,” you huffed dramatically. “But if anyone says anything about it -”
“They can talk to me,” Steve interrupted, his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. “Take care of my girl,” he ordered Bucky.
“You got it, punk,” Bucky sassed with a mock salute.
Baron kept glancing over your shoulder. “Is this going to be an every day sort of thing?”
“About that,” you hummed. “It’s personal, and I’m not really comfortable talking about it. It won’t interrupt my work or my ability to work well, I swear.”
“It better not,” he warned, his eyebrow arched.
You swallowed thickly before nodding. “Understood, Mr. Zemo.”
With a nod, Baron rested his hand on a stack of manuscripts. “You’re going to hit the ground running, Miss Y/L/N. I need these proofed by Friday.”
“Oh, okay, ye- yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll do my best.”
“No, you won’t,” Baron argued. “You will have them done.”
Your lips pulled into a tight smile as you confirmed that, “Yes, I will have them done by Friday.”
“Alright, then,” he huffed. “I’ll leave you to it.” Baron gave you a curt nod before turning away and striding purposefully to his office.
You sat down and made quick work of arranging things the way you wanted them. There were things from the previous employee that you didn’t see a need for, so you shoved them into a box to worry about later. You started the computer and logged in using the generic password that was provided, only to change it immediately. There was a basic Welcome to the company email that you quickly skimmed over before grabbing a red pen and the first manuscript.
“So, you’re the new hire.” You looked up to see an honest-to-goodness kid standing by your desk. “I’m Peter Parker,” he smiled, his hand extended.
You gave it a solid shake in greeting. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N, it’s nice to meet you.”
Peter chuckled at the way you were staring at him. “I’m eighteen, out of high school, I swear it.”
“I”m sorry,” you laughed. “You just look so young.”
“It’s no problem. I get it all the time,” he assured you.
You dropped the capped pen onto the manuscript and leaned back in your chair. “What do you do here, Peter?”
“Right now, I’m a gopher,” Peter deadpanned, his eyes rolling back. “But it means I’ve got my foot in the door.”
“You want to be an editor, too?”
Peter’s eyebrow bobbed playfully. “Are we going to be competing against one another?”
You couldn’t help the snort that escaped. “You’re a self-proclaimed gopher, and I’m already proofing manuscripts. I think I’ve got a leg up on you.”
“You only think that because we’ve just met,” he laughed. “Give it time.”
“Since you’re a gopher,” you started, leaning forward to drop your elbows onto the desk. “What is it that you go… for?”
“Coffee, mainly,” was his answer. “Oh, and lunches. I’ll also run to the store if anyone needs anything.”
You looked at him with narrowed eyes. “So… you’re our bitch?” you asked cautiously, adding a wink just to make sure he knew you were joking around, though, you had no doubt he knew.
“Pretty much, yeah,” Peter laughed, earning several scowls from your coworkers. “You got your own entourage?”
With a glance over your shoulder, you gave Bucky a wave, which he dipped his head in response. “Sort of, I guess.”
Peter must have noticed the sad tone to your voice, because he was apologizing quickly. “I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just -”
“It’s okay, Peter,” you assured him. “I have a crazy ex, that’s all.”
He gave you a tight-lipped smile. “God, that sucks. Did he… I mean, are you okay?”
“Honestly?” you huffed. “I don’t know. The whole thing is fucked up and intense and I just want it to be over with.”
“My aunt… I live with her, long story, my parents died and… anyway, my aunt had a boyfriend once that smacked her a couple times,” he admitted sadly. “But May’s a strong woman, she stood up to him and ended up literally kicking his ass out of the apartment. I can see that in you, that fight, that will to survive. You’ll get through it, Y/N.”
You covered his hand in yours and smiled. “Thank you, Peter.”
“Besides,” he rasped, leaning close, “I know jiu jitsu. You say the word, and his ass… is grass.”
You couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of you, and before you could say anything, Baron was in his doorway, calling for you.
Peter scurried away with a harsh, “Shit, I’m sorry,” as you stood. You felt Bucky’s eyes on you as you walked into Baron’s office.
“I’m sorry about that, Mr. Zemo,” you said nervously, your hands wringing together behind your back.
“I get it,” Baron muttered, irritation thick on his tongue. “It’s your first day, there’s people to get to know.”
You looked down at your feet and pulled in a shaky breath as he continued. “You just have to understand that there are other people that are working here, and distractions,” he cleared his throat so you could see him point to Bucky, “are frowned upon.”
“I need Mr. Barnes here,” you said in a rush. “It’s… it’s for my own safety.”
Steve had told you that if anyone gave you a hard time over Bucky, that they should talk to him. You didn’t want to do that, tell your manager to call your boyfriend. It made you feel like you were a child, unable to handle the situation by yourself.
After several long moments, Baron pulled in a deep breath. “I’ll allow it for this week. Anything beyond that is not permissible. Back to work, Miss Y/L/N.”
When you got back to your desk, Bucky was sitting in the chair that Peter had been in. “What was that about?” he asked, his eyebrow arched.
“Apparently, having a good time is frowned upon in this establishment,” you answered. “Also… Zemo says you’re only allowed to be here for this week.”
“Well, he’s a fucking idiot,” Bucky huffed. He reached into his pocket to grab his phone, but you were shaking your head.
“I’ll let him know.”
Steve was rolling his eyes and laughing incredulously. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I know,” you said for at least the fifth time. “But I can see his point, Steve. Bucky is a distraction.”
“Oh, please,” he scoffed. “He’s a goddamn bodyguard, not some monkey at the zoo that flings their shit at people.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle at the mental image. “Not yet, at least.”
Steve’s eyes pierced into yours. “I’m being serious, Y/N.”
“So am I,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and middle finger. “Five women and two men came up to me today, asking if Bucky was single; they couldn’t stop staring at him long enough to do their jobs.”
After taking a long drink of whiskey, Steve sighed. “I don’t like you being there with no one to keep you safe. I’ll call Zemo in the mor-”
“God, no,” you gasped. “Please don’t do that. It’s like… it’s like having your dad call the principal because you don’t like the teacher I have. Please, Steve. Don’t… don’t call him, don’t do anything.”
“What’s your solution?” he asked, standing in front of you, close enough that you could hear the air fill his lungs with every breath he took.
With your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you started to tug the crisp blue shirt from his pants. “What if we listened to Zemo,” you started, shaking your head as soon as Steve’s mouth opened to protest.
You unbuttoned his shirt, taking your time with each white button. “Bucky finishes out the week,” you scraped your nails over his stomach and onto his sides as you opened the shirt. “And next Monday…” your hands skimmed up his chest, the dark hair tickling your palms on their journey, “he drives me to work…”
Steve set the glass onto the counter and watched you with dark eyes. “He waits in the car while I work…” with your hands on his shoulders, you rid him of the shirt, giggling when the fabric got stuck on his watch, “and then he brings me home…” you tangled your fingers in his hair and pushed up to your toes, “safe and sound,” you muttered, your lips brushing his. “What do you say?”
“I say…” Steve reached back and pulled your hand from his hair, “that I want to see…” the sound of his belt coming undone echoed in your ears, “that mouth of yours…” he shoved his pants and boxer briefs down, “wrapped around my cock.”
Lust surged through you and sweat started to bead on your forehead. You licked your suddenly dry lips and said two words, “Yes, sir,” before dropping to your knees.
You took his half-hard cock in your hand and stroked him before you licked a broad stripe on the underside of his cock from bottom to top, relishing in the pulse of the vein against your tongue. Steve sucked in a hiss as you sucked him between your berry-stained lips.
Steve swelled in your mouth, against your tongue and the insides of your cheeks, and it pulled an obscene moan from the man above you. “Shit, doll,” he snarled in approval as you sucked him, working your hands in tandem with your mouth.
With a low hum, you took him deep into your throat until your nose was buried in the short ginger curls. You pulled in a deep breath through your nose and bobbed your head, your throat working against his cock in shallow strokes. Steve’s thighs were shaking and he had a hand in your hair as tears streaked down the sides of your face.
“Fuck,” he choked. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, suckin’ my cock like a good girl.” His praises shot through you like electricity, soaking your panties further.
You wanted to touch yourself, to ease the ache between your legs, to feel yourself come undone, but while Steve hadn’t told you not to, he didn’t exactly give his permission either. As a deterrent, you gripped onto Steve’s hips as he plunged his cock in and out of your mouth, deep into your throat as you gagged on him.
Steve pulled back with a wicked sneer. “Not yet,” he chastised himself, his cock painfully hard and red. He kicked out of the pants and boxers that were pooled around his feet, pulling you off of the floor a moment later.
His mouth was on yours, his tongue was in your mouth, demanding your attention, possessing every inch he could taste. Without notice, he ripped himself away and gave a command.
“Get upstairs and get naked.” His voice was dripping with dominance and you about came right then.
Without further prompting, you jogged your way out of the room, up the stairs, and into the bedroom where you stripped the clothes from your body in record time. You knew he liked it when your hair was down, so you tugged it down from the knot on your crown and quickly ran a brush through it.
Steve strode past the door, completely naked, his cock bobbing with each determined step, pre-cum glistening from the hair on his stomach. He crooked his fingers at you as he went, not even stopping to see if you followed. With your heart pounding, you hurried out of the room and caught up with your dominant.
The door to the room was open and he was waiting for you, a predatory gleam in his eye and a smirk on his mouth. “Close the door and lock it,” he ordered.
With the door closed and the lock thrown, you faced Steve, your hands flat against your thighs, your face as neutral as you could manage. “What next, sir?”
“The bed,” his voice was low and thick, heavy with need. “Lie down on your back.”
Nodding, you did as instructed and situated yourself on the luxuriously soft bedding.
“That’s a good girl,” Steve praised as he strolled over as if he had all the time in the world. “Open your legs, let me see your pussy.”
Electricity sparked along every inch of your skin at his command. It was at that moment you realized just how badly you had missed having a dominant, and one that knew what he was doing. You pulled your legs up and opened them, putting yourself on display for him. Steve pulled in a shuddering breath at the sight and his hands balled into fists as he fought to keep his control in check.
“What now, sir?” you asked, your voice shaking with lust.
Steve’s tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. “Touch yourself, Y/N.”
Your hands were shaking as they hovered over your stomach. “I uh, wh- where?”
“Wherever… however you get yourself to cum. I want to see it all.” His voice was dark, dangerous, arousing.
One hand slid down your belly and between your legs, the other drifted up to your breasts, where you massaged one, the hard peak of your nipple rolling against your palm. You bit your bottom lip as your fingers slid between your damp folds, how you teased yourself by using only the tip of your middle finger inside your pussy.
Steve’s rumbling moan was felt in the pit of your stomach, and it only served as fuel for the fire. Pinching a nipple hard, you pushed in your middle finger to the third knuckle and started fucking yourself; slow at first, only it wasn’t enough. You need more girth, more speed, more.
Using your feet for leverage, your hips rose off the bed as you pushed in another finger, as the heel of your hand worked against your clit, that aching bundle of nerves that felt as if it was going to explode when you crooked your fingers just like tha-
“Stop,” Steve commanded, a growl in his throat.
The breath left your lungs as if you had been punched in the stomach. Every inch of you was teetering on the edge, ready to let go, but you did your dominant’s bidding and removed your fingers from your fluttering pussy.
You met his gaze and sucked in a breath at the dark gleam in his eyes, at the way his hands were flexing at his sides, at the way his cock was throbbing against his stomach. Steve smirked wickedly before kneeling on the edge of the bed. You moved to sit up, to latch onto the back of his neck and kiss the breath from his lungs, but he shook his head; not much, just a twitch, really.
Steve’s hands were on the insides of your thighs, spreading them wide, wider than before, enough to fit the width of his shoulders between them. Goosebumps rippled along your spine, sending heat straight to your core. With his hands digging into your skin, you rolled your hips as his hot breath blew against your sex.
He moaned your name obscenely at the brush of curls and damp heat against his nose, lips, and the back of his knuckles. Steve might have been a businessman, but there were calluses from years of boating and camping and backpacking through the country. Those calluses bit into your sensitive lips, working back and forth to spread your slick along his fingers and into his palm.
One long digit entered you, all the way to the third knuckle, pulling a long moan from deep within you. You grabbed his wrist as he stroked you languidly, his wide thumb circling the knot of nerves. He blew out a shuddering breath and slid another finger in, crooking them to find your g-spot.
You perched your feet on his shoulders before he buried his face in your pussy, his fingers driving in and out, scissoring back and forth before finding the rough patch of skin that would send you into oblivion. Just as he found it, he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, scraping his teeth over the over sensitive knot. You were a panting and whining mess as your body clamped onto Steve’s digits, and as soon as your orgasm began to crest, Steve pulled back.
“Not yet,” he ground out, pushing himself off the bed. He grabbed a condom and rolled it on, hissing at the contact. Your mouth watered and your pussy clenched at the sight.
You maneuvered yourself so you were kneeling in front of him, your hands on his shoulders as you kissed him. “I need you, sir,” you purred between kisses. The bittersweet tang of your cum was thick on his lips and tongue, dripping off his beard and onto your breasts as he gripped your hips.
Steve had you off the bed, your legs around his waist as he sat down, his feet spread wide, planted on the carpeted floor. You gripped his cock and pushed it between your silken folds, spreading your slick before guiding him into your tight pussy one inch at a time. When he was completely seated, you gripped his shoulders, your nails biting his skin.
Rough hands drug along your back before resting on your hips. A foul sounding moan spilled between you, blowing hot air onto your sweat-slicked skin. “Fuck, baby girl. So fuckin’ tight.”
The bite of pain ebbed, quickly replaced by a wave of pleasure as the head of his thick cock twitched against your g-spot. You rocked your hips and watched as his eyes rolled back, as he bit his bottom lip when his head fell back, exposing the long line of his neck. The harder you snapped your hips, the louder he grunted your name. Every couple of thrusts, his hand would smack your ass, echoing the wet sounds of sex. Your back arched as the coil in your belly wound tighter, a wide hand on the small of your back supporting you.
“Hold on, doll. Not yet,” Steve instructed, his mouth on your breasts, biting and sucking your nipples almost raw, his beard biting into the sensitive skin, marking you as his.
“I… I ca- can’t,” you whimpered, doing everything in your power not to give into the pleasure that was raging through you.
Steve snarled as he fucked up into you, as he dug bruises into your skin, as he continued to mark you as his. “Come on, doll. Let me hear you scream.”
You grabbed his hair as you came, shuddering and clamping down on him like a vice, a shattered scream of his name falling from your lips. His hips stuttered as you washed over him, and it only took a handful of thrusts before he followed, your spasming walls milking every last drop from him.
With his arms around your waist, Steve fell to his back, his crystal eyes fluttering closed at the feel of your nails dragging along his scalp as his own fingers carded through your hair, twirling the ends around the tips. He sighed low in his throat as you kissed him. This kiss wasn’t like the others, it wasn’t rushed or frantic. This kiss was slow and deliberate, sending a different kind of shudder down your spine.
You managed to sneak out of his grip without too much protest. “Where are you going?” he hummed.
“To clean up,” you answered cheekily. “You’re welcome to join me.”
In the blink of an eye, Steve was off the bed and you were pressed against the granite walls of the shower, Steve between your legs, water cascading down, drowning out your cries of pleasure.
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