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: 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: 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: You find out that being Tony’s assistant comes with some extra perks. Word Count: 2,789 Warnings: Language, angst, brief mention of PTSD, anxiety, night terrors, depression, explicit sexual content, safe sex, oral sex [female receiving], light spanking, some dirty talk Author’s Note: Requested by @lilacprincessofrecovery This is my first time really writing a one shot with Tony Stark as the star. Please be kind.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
Being an assistant to Tony Stark wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Tony wasn’t always the carefree, funny, charismatic guy that everyone wanted him to be. He was broken, barely held together, he suffered from PTSD, had night terrors, depression, anxiety; the list was endless, and you were there to witness it all.
Because they couldn’t be with Tony twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, Happy and Pepper trusted you to keep an eye on him, to make sure he took his medication and made it to all his meetings on time. Since Tony wasn’t one for abiding by the rules, the first few months were hell on earth. He screamed a lot, and threw things, never directly at you, though. He also refused to routinely take his medication. And then one day, you had had enough.
You kicked off your heels, marched over to him, shoved him onto the couch, and sat on his lap, your thick thighs on either side of his. “Stop acting like a goddamn child, and take your medicine,” you snarled, eyebrow arched.
With wide eyes, he did as instructed, even going so far as to lift his tongue for you to see that he had indeed taken his medication.
You huffed and clapped your hand against his chest. “Don’t make me do that again, Mr. Stark,” you said, low in your throat.
There was a spark in his eyes that sent a rush of heat to your core. “Or what, Miss Y/L/N?”
“Or I’ll sit on you again,” you sassed, rolling your eyes and shoving yourself off of your boss.
“That doesn’t sound like much of a threat,” Tony chuckled.
You gnawed on the inside of your cheek as you stepped into your heels. “It only is if I have to take this conversation to human resources,” you shot back.
“You wouldn’t,” he murmured, pushing up from the couch and crossing the room to stand in front of you.
To say that you weren’t attracted to the one and only Tony Stark, would be like saying you hated drinking alcohol when you wanted to get drunk. He was damn attractive, snarky, his wit was unparalleled, but he was also your boss. Exploring anything in the realm of a non-professional relationship was out of the question. Besides, you weren’t what most would consider sexy, especially a playboy like Tony. Along with the rest of the world, you had seen his conquests, and none of them looked like you.
You had curves that most women secretly coveted, but would never say aloud; thick thighs, supple breasts, and a plump ass. Sure, your stomach was softer than most others, you had cellulite and stretch marks, and yeah, you had days where you felt bloated, where all you wanted to do was pull on a pair of sweats and lounge around watching Netflix, but you didn’t hate the way you looked.
Standing there, close enough to smell the remnants of his spicy cologne, to see that his moustache was starting to go grey, you fought the urge to grab his lapels and show him exactly what you wanted to do.
“Don’t test me, Mr. Stark,” was all you said before turning around and strutting out of his office, his rich laugh following you.
It had been six months since the day you forced Tony to take his medication, and every day following, he took it without an issue. The only times he ever really refused was when you weren’t in the room. Pepper had given up on trying, citing, “He’s a grown ass man, he needs to act like one.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that.
You had also noticed a slight shift in the relationship between the two of you. Tony acted a little looser around you, almost as if he were letting his walls down as he grew more comfortable in your presence. You had even caught his eyes lingering a little too long on you than was socially acceptable, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, a glint in his eyes, but you thought nothing of it. Tony was just being Tony; goofing around, flirting with women; that didn’t mean he liked you.
Everyone had left hours ago, it was just Tony and yourself in his office. You were taking notes for an upcoming speech, barely paying attention, your ears and hand working solely on muscle memory. Speaking of muscles, the ones in your neck and shoulders were aching. With your eyes closed, you tilted your head to the side, then all the way back, and finally, the other side. It felt so good that you couldn’t stop the moan of appreciation.
Tony turned from his spot, standing in front of the tinted windows, surveying the bright lights below. You felt him watching you as you did it one more time, but when your eyes fluttered open, Tony was nowhere to be seen. And then, his long fingers were on your neck, squeezing the tense muscles.
“Relax, Miss Y/L/N,” he instructed, his voice rich.
“Mr. Stark,” you whined in protest, but did nothing to move away from his touch. “This is highly inappropriate.”
His chuckle washed over you like silk sheets. “Everything I do is highly inappropriate,” he shot back.
When he pushed the pad of his thumbs into the back of your neck, you couldn’t stop the moan that spilled free. Your head lolled forward as his fingers pushed deeper, unravelling the knots one by one, as his hands spread over your shoulders, continuing their ministrations. His hands were warm, and your skin was absorbing that heat and rushing it down to the pit of your stomach where it started to ache. You squeezed your thighs together in a futile attempt to ease it.
“Yes, Tony,” you hissed under your breath, your mind fogged with arousal.
You were in such a haze that when he asked, “Do you like that?” you let out a stuttering sigh.
“It feels so good.” The headache that had been making your brain pulse painfully was almost completely gone, thanks to Tony’s magical fingers.
His mouth was next to your ear when he asked, “Do you want to take a break from this?”
You were shaking your head before he could complete the question. “Hell no,” was your breathy answer.
Before you could blink, Tony spun the chair around and had your face cupped in his hands. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he rasped, and then his lips were on yours.
Your back went ramrod straight for not even three seconds before you sighed and opened your mouth to him. Tony tasted like whiskey, and smelled like faded spice and leather. You gripped the lapels of his lilac shirt and pulled him roughly to you as you stood.
Tony’s hands moved to your hips and he moaned, low and heavy, in the back of his throat. “Jesus. Been wanting to do that for a long time.”
“You don’t say,” you huffed. You could feel the heat of his hands through your clothes, and you found yourself desperately wanting to feel the heavy weight of his hands in other, most definitely inappropriate, places.
He was gnawing on his bottom lip, those large molten chocolate eyes settled on your mouth, and his hips, those narrow hips you had dreamed about many times, were shifting as he moved closer. “What about you?” he asked, a smirk on his lips. “What do you want?”
You draped your arms over his shoulders, thereby pressing your breasts into his chest. “You sure you want to know?”
“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t, sweetheart” Tony chuckled, his fingers drifting closer to your ass.
Humming, you carded your fingers through his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp in a way that made him shudder slightly. There was a second where you felt like you needed to put as much space between you and Tony, that this was all wrong, that maybe what was happening was a cruel joke, but that quickly fell away as he gripped your ass and growled.
With a smirk, you decided to go for it. “I’ve been wondering if you’re as good with your mouth on my pussy as you are at pissing people off with it.”
“Challenge accepted,” he grinned, and then he was kissing you fiercely, fingers digging into your ass, maneuvering you with him as he walked to his desk.
Before you knew it, you were sitting on the edge of his desk, his narrow hips between your thick thighs, and his hands were under the hem of your dress, hitching it higher, exposing the lacy trim of your thigh-high stockings. You dropped your hands behind you, pressing them into the desk as you lifted your ass. Tony’s dark eyes were locked on yours, bottom lip between his teeth, shoving your skirt up and over your hips.
“You sure you can handle all of this?” you rasped. “I’m a lot more woman than you’re used to.”
Tony chuckled, low and dark. “Sweetheart,” he purred. “You have no idea what I’m used to.”
You went to say something about the women you’d seen him with, how everything he did in the public was there, for all to see, but then he was kissing you, fiercer than before, bruising you, swallowing your low moans. His long fingers deftly unbuttoned your shirt and parted it, exposing your lace-covered breasts, the nipples peaked and straining against the fabric. Tony pushed the lace down and moaned heavily into your mouth as the weight of them settled into his palms.
Tony’s goatee bit into your skin as his mouth travelled along your jaw, down your neck, dropping sloppy kisses, tonguing your flushed skin. You watched through hooded lids as he placed numerous kisses over your ample breasts, first one, then the other, until you were shivering with anticipation. And then, his mouth closed over your nipple, his fingers rolling the other one between it, pinching it, sending a jolt down your spine and settling between your legs.
As much as you enjoyed the feeling of his mouth on you breasts, the ache between your legs was getting to be too much, and it was as if Tony could sense it, whether it was because you wrapped a leg around his waist and pulled him into you, or because of the way you were whining, your bottom lip between your teeth, Tony’s mouth ventured down, placing kisses to your belly, sucking red marks into the skin, but when he pressed his nose into your groin and pulled in a deep breath, you just about came undone.
“Damn, darling,” he huffed, fingers brushing against your damp cotton panties. “You smell so good. I can’t wait to taste you.”
“I’m not going to stop you,” you choked.
He shot you a wicked wink before hooking his fingers into your panties and pulling them down your legs, tucking them into his pocket for, “Safekeeping, Y/N.”
The air that was trapped in your lungs came out in a rush when he touched you, parting your slick folds with the back of his two middle fingers, his knuckles exposing your clit, which he then blew on. Your hips shot off the desk of their own accord, which earned you a slap on the back of your thigh.
“Hold still,” he ordered, and boy, did you try.
Tony slid one finger inside you, then another. His strokes were languid and short, inching in and out of you, making you whine for more. He let loose a rich chuckle as he pushed in to his knuckles and curled those talented fingers, scissoring them, stretching you as you climbed higher and higher.
It was when he finally tasted you that you couldn’t help yourself any longer; you grabbed his hair and held him there, shuddering as he sucked on your clit before thrusting his tongue in alongside his fingers. When he moved them in tandem, that was when you came; your head thrown back, your thighs shaking, Tony’s tongue lapping up your juices, your voice a shattered shout of his name.
You whined in protest at the sudden loss of Tony’s fingers, but the sound of his belt and pants coming undone was music to your ears. He stood between your legs, his hair standing on end, a wild look in his eyes, and rolling on a condom onto a cock that made your mouth water.
“There’s plenty of time for that later,” he growled. “Get up, turn around, and bend over.”
You did as instructed, moving to step out of your heels, but stopped when he added, “Leave them on.”
Tony stroked himself as you obeyed him, pushing items off of his desk, putting your ass on display. You hissed at the cool wood against your breasts, but your attention was quickly drawn to the wide head of his cock, and the way it slid through your folds, easing his entrance.
It was intoxicating, the burn as you stretched around his thick cock, the heavy twitch of it when he groaned, inching in until he could go no further. There was a large vein on the underside of his cock that pulsed with every beat of his heart, and it made your pussy clench.
“Yes,” he hissed, grabbing your ass. “Shit, you take my cock so well.”
In a desperate need for friction, you rocked your hips. “Tony, please,” you whined.
“What do you need, baby girl?” he purred, bending over to press a kiss to your shoulder.
You about sobbed when his cock twitched. “I need you.”
“You need me to what?” His cock twitched again, and you knew he was doing it on purpose, driving you mad with desire. Well, two could play at that game.
“I want you,” you arched your back and tightened yourself around him, “to fuck me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tony snarled. He stood tall and did as you requested of him.
With each snap of his hips, your ass slapped against his stomach, echoing each of the gasps you couldn’t help but give at the sensation. Tony was digging bruises into your ass, using it for leverage, pulling you harder into him, the force of it all making him grunt, and he loved every second of it. And then, he did something you never thought he would do; he brought his hand down and slapped your ass.
You hissed at the sting, but in a pleasurable, “Do it again, harder,” kind of way.
Tony did what he did best; he gave the people what they wanted, if only for purely selfish reasons, because when he slapped your ass, your pussy clenched, squeezing his cock, driving him closer to orgasm. He timed each slap, so that when he was buried to the hilt, he’d spank you, and you’d grip him so tight, he would see stars.
Three times he did that, and the third time was when everything unravelled. You gripped onto the edge of the desk – knocking several items off his desk in the process – and came, a sinful sounding moan on your tongue and your eyes rolling back. He was close behind you, thrusting sloppily until he stopped moving altogether, his cock buried in your pussy, pulsing as he came, a snarl on his lips.
Tony peppered kisses to your shoulder as he pulled out, and stopped you from standing with a hand between your shoulder blades. “Catch your breath,” he instructed, his own breath tearing in and out of him.
With your eyes closed and your mind spinning, you heard Tony dispose of the condom and clean himself up. A shiver ran through you at the silky strip of fabric in his hand as he gently cleaned you, murmuring praises and dropping kisses as he went. Next, he was helping you into your panties, securing them around your hips, and adjusting your skirt so that you were covered before you stood. As soon as you were facing him, Tony was kissing you, slowly, gently, fixing your bra, and refastening the buttons on your shirt.
“Never imagined you as the gentle and caring type,” you hummed against his lips.
Tony tucked some hair behind your ear. “I take care of my girl,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Don’t let anyone try and convince you otherwise.”
With a smirk, you readjusted his tie and tucked it into the heather grey vest. “I’m your girl, huh?”
“Nobody else can handle me the way you do,” Tony admitted with a shrug.
“Boy,” you chuckled. “I ain’t even handled you yet.”
He shifted closer, and placed his hands on your hips, and God, it felt so right. “Let’s get started.”
Summary: Steve has been shutting you out for over a month, and you’ve had enough. Word Count: 947 Warnings: Heavy angst, language Author’s Note: For @moonchildcharm Could I request a Steve Rogers piece based on “Seventeen” from Heathers? Maybe how she is in the same situation, and doesn’t age?
My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.
Back at the compound, you stormed away from the quinjet, away from everyone, but mainly, away from Steve. He’d been blatantly ignoring you for over a month, since the night you told him how you really felt about him, that you had broken the cardinal rule by falling in love.
If that weren’t bad enough, the mission was a goddamn shit show. While Steve was too busy to listen to anything you had to say, the group was overrun and Wanda got hurt, badly. To say that you were seething was putting it lightly.
You were on your second glass of wine when Steve found you. At the sight of him, your vision went red. You spun around to leave the room, but he was behind you, hand on your elbow, whipping you around in the blink of an eye.
“What do you want?” you sneered, ripping your arm away from him.
“We need to talk,” he ground out.
You were shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for a fucking month, Steve.”
He crossed his arms and the sight of his chest and shoulders flexing under the grey shirt he was now wearing made your mouth go dry. “I’m ready now.”
“Fuck that,” you scoffed. “Find someone who actually gives a shit about what you have to say.”
Steve grabbed your arm again and he stared at you with icy eyes. “You surprised me before.”
“You mean when I said that was in love with you?” Rolling your eyes again, you yanked free from his hold. “How the hell does that warrant being completely shut out, huh?”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Newsflash,” you shouted. “It fucking did! I’m not perfect, Steve. I’m not you! I actually listen to my feelings.”
Steve ran a hand through his dark hair. “I’m far from perfect. I’m damaged, Y/N.”
“Oh, for fuck sake,” you grumbled. “You’re damaged, I’m damaged, we’re all damaged, Steve. Like, really fucking damaged. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be happy.”
“That’s exactly what it means,” he insisted, voice low, eyes dark.
Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to let Steve see them. “We’re not special, Steve. We’re not different.”
Steve scoffed loudly. “We have both been experimented on, Y/N. If we’re not different, I don’t know what the fuck different is.”
“So that’s it? The almighty Steven Rogers has spoken, and his word is the law. Fuck, you,” you snarled.
“Goddamn, Y/N,” he groaned. “You’re like a damn child. We don’t get to have a normal life. We choose who lives and who dies. We don’t get to go out and drink beer, see bad movies, or go bowling. We’re not seventeen, so stop acting like it.”
With your hands balled into fists at your side, you growled. “I’m not asking for that!”
“Then what the fuck do you want?” he demanded to know even though he already knew the answer.
“For Christ sake,” you snarled. “I want you, I want a life with you, that’s all. Don’t you want a life with me?”
Steve was shaking his head, an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint flashing in his eyes. “No,” was all he said.
“That’s bullshit, and you fucking know it. If you could just let me in, we would be so good together,” you insisted, your voice softer than before, but he was refusing to listen.
“I get it, Steve. People hurt us all the time, they vanish, they lie, they cheat, and it really blows, but we can’t hold onto that. We have to let go, take a deep breath, and move on.” You were standing in front of him, staying just out reach, watching his face start to crumble.
“We can’t,” he repeated his earlier protest, his voice thin, weak, almost to the point of shattering.
You knew it was a risk, but you grabbed his hands. “We can. We can do stupid shit like camping, playing strip poker, maybe even go dancing. Just… let me in, Steve. Is that so hard to do?”
Steve’s eyes were swimming in tears as he kissed you, catching you by surprise. You gasped into his mouth and hooked your arms around his neck, arching your body into his. His hands were on your ass and your back, pulling you impossibly closer, his kisses greedy and searing.
You didn’t care that you couldn’t breathe, you wanted to spend the rest of your life right there, pressed against every hard line of Steve Rogers, but he tore his mouth from yours and wrenched free from your hold.
“Steve?” you rasped, working hard to get him to look at you.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he murmured, disappointment heavy on his tongue, his fingers moving over his lips, smearing away your kisses.
It was like a punch to the gut, but you couldn’t give up, not yet. “What’s it gonna be? Because, I choose you. I’ll always choose you.”
Steve shook his head and started backing away. “No.”
“I’ll stay if I’m what you choose,” you hated yourself for how desperate you sounded.
He looked at you, his eyes cold. “Goodbye, Y/N.”
“But, I love you, Steve. You’re the one I choose,” you insisted.
With a sad smile, Steve turned around and quickly walked from the room, and you, well, you went up to your room and packed a bag. There was no way you could stay there, work side-by-side with Steve.
Fifteen minutes later, you were handing in your resignation to Maria – whether she wanted to accept it or not, and getting onto a motorcycle. You didn’t start crying until you crossed the state line.
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