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lokisgoodgirl · 1 month ago

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Lies Like Liquid [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki's typical antics at a party hit different. (w/c 2.5k) Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Loki x Female reader. Snippy Loki/ enemies to lovers. Mild jealousy. Mild angst.

The crowd blurred as you wobbled on your heels towards the bar, trying to look casual. Rogers, Natasha, Clint—all of them with their heads thrown back at some perfectly timed joke while music thumped in your ears.

Loki leant against the polished marble counter—the soft amber bulbs around the mirror making his watchful eyes shine; immaculately tousled hair drifting down his shoulders.

He lifted a martini to his lips and sipped gently, the smoulder fixed on you.

One elbow rested on the bar, his ankles crossed, his body impossibly long and lean and wrapped in an expensive suit that was just the right side of tight. No tie tonight, just an open collar with a triangle of milky skin that you wanted to graze your teeth against as his eyes rolled back and a gurgle of your name choked from his throat—

Don’t talk to him. Don’t embarrass yourself. Don’t look at him; that’s what he wants. But your heart rattled faster as his cologne prickled deep inside your nostrils: warm, spiced, filthy.

“You look particularly agreeable tonight, Agent,” Loki said as you propped your elbows on the bar, eyeing your cleavage carefully in the mirror. The god’s stare traced your profile as intricately as though it were his fingers. “Did you do something with your hair? Wash it, perhaps?” “You’re one to talk, Agent,” you said, tongue lingering on the T.

Out of the corner of your eye, the god stiffened. He hated all that Agent stuff. Resented it. Except when he was curling the word around his own tongue, ready to spit in your directing with his dumb, mind-numbingly sexy voice—

“Nevertheless,” he said, strained, ‘that colour suits you.” “Black?” “Mmm.” “Everyone suits black.” Loki chuckled softly, sliding the base of his martini glass closer across the bar. His body followed. “Not so, Agent. In fact, my brother looks particularly ghastly. Deceased, in fact. You look rather…” “Yes?” Your breath hitched as Loki bent ever-so-slightly to your ear, heat skating down your cheek. “Hot,” he whispered, making one syllable stretch to two. A tingle rushed over your body. You turned fractionally just as the shit-eating, devastatingly attractive smirk spread across Loki’s lips. The one Stark used in the ad reels. The one that the public loved; and the one that you loathed—even if you did have a screenshot of it on your phone for masturbation purposes. Needs must. He might be a dickhead, but you had eyes.

“What do you want, Loki?”

He pressed a hand to his chest, wounded. “Want? Darling, you came to me.”

“I came for a drink—you were in the way. It’s the only way to numb you out.” His jaw dropped a touch, affronted, but those eyes sparkled. Crystal sang as he swirled the fancy glass against marble and leant back, the buttons of his shirt straining as he let out a small, harassed sigh. “You really must try one of these, they’re quite terrible.” The tightness in your chest loosened. “The Starktini?” “The Starktini,” he confirmed sombrely. “Sherry instead of vermouth, can you believe it? What is he thinking. All the money in the realm, and no class.”

He took another sip, draining the glass, observing you through narrowed eyes. “Another one, Mr Laufeyson?” Fresh lipstick, ruffled hair, apron tied too tight, shirt unbuttoned to the tip of fancy lingerie. You rolled your eyes as Loki swivelled to face the waitress. “Please,” he said, low and unbearably smooth. “And one for my friend here, too. Particularly dirty, if you don’t mind.” “Of course Sir; I know the way you like it,” she said huskily, sliding her eyes to yours. You cocked an eyebrow as she sashayed to the liquor bottles further down the bar. “Particularly dirty?” you hissed. “Are you kidding me?” “Are you jealous?” Anger scorched up your spine. How dare he—standing there with his stupid, devastating cheekbones and muscles shifting beneath his shirt as he plucked the stem of a fresh glass from the waitress’s hand. Your eyes flickered to a small piece of paper stuck to the bottom, several looping numbers visible. Loki winked lightly at her as she moved to a pissed off looking Barton, peeling the paper off. “I’ll leave the two of you to…” You gestured in the air.

Loki straightened, swallowing hastily. He raised a finger, his brows rising. But you were already several steps deep into the crowd, pushing past a tipsy Rogers dancing the Macarena to a Scissor Sisters song. The bodice of your dress felt unbearably tight, party smoke clinging to the back of your throat like ash and making your eyes sting. A hand cupped your bicep. “You alright?” Wanda dipped, catching your eyes. You waved a hand, plastering on a smile. “Fine. I’m fine, just Loki being a—” “A delight, I’m sure,” Loki drawled. Even over the music, his voice was clear as glass. Wanda’s face scrunched, her gaze shifting over your shoulder. You whipped around, hoping your tits hadn’t shifted from the impeccable cleavage you’d assembled earlier. “Let me guess, this is the part of the dancefloor you want? Planning on standing here yourself, glowering at everyone having fun?”

Loki frowned, and for a moment, just one, you felt a sharp stab of guilt. He placed the martini glass on a small, round table to his left.

“Actually,” he said, unbuttoning a cuff and folding it up to the elbow. “I was going to ask if you wanted to dance.” Behind you, Wanda gasped. Loki Laufeyson did not dance. And certainly not with you.

There were many things you could say at this moment, do, in this moment while Loki Laufeyson folded the second sleeve up his muscled forearm up with skilful ease. Tell him to fuck off, give him the middle finger, laugh at him before he could laugh at you. Seconds shifted as you waited for the familiar smirk, but it didn’t come. He extended his hand.

Loki’s chin lowered, his eyes glimmering in light refracted from the disco ball, the hand cupped outward unmoving. And so, you took it. Wanda gasped again.

Loki’s thumb slid up your palm, pressing into the soft skin before guiding you gently across the dancefloor. Bodies moved, the room blurred for the second time that evening, but this time, a flutter rose in your belly as Loki turned and pulled you flush to his chest. Your cheek brushed his, hands knotted at his shoulder as the opening beats of Rosenfeld thumped through the speakers. Eyes sliding to Loki’s, you tried to stifle the urge to suck against his neck; absorb the deep scent of him that wafted from beneath his collar.

He began to sway. And then, his lips brushed your ear. “Move, Agent,” he said, deep and utterly filthy. Loki’s knuckles trailed down your spine, palm settling on your lower back and shifting in time with the grind of your hips. His hair grazed against your cheek as your bodies slid together, the satin of your dress water against his shirt. The world slid beneath you feet as Loki pushed you outwards, spinning on your heels, stars bursting in your mind. He pulled you to his chest with a soft thump and the muscle beneath your breasts shook under his chuckle. “I thought you couldn't dance—” “I can do anything, Agent,” he murmured, hands resting on your hips. His eyes narrowed lightly. “Anything.” You snorted, blowing a strand of his hair with it. It floated back, sticking to your mouth. Loki’s fingers slipped between you, pinching it away. His thumb grazed over the plump of your lower lip. “Do you believe me?” It struck you in this moment how inconceivable it was that Loki was grinding against your stomach; that you were shifting in time with it, your hips swaying against the hard expanse of his hips. That you hadn’t punched him in the face yet.

“I believe that you’re full of shit? Does that count?” You half-hoped he couldn’t hear you, but the twitch of Loki’s lips proved he did. God, you wanted to slam your pussy down on the meat of the thigh sliding against your leg. You wanted to yank his hair down and kiss him right on his poisonous mouth as he pushed his femur against your clit; edging you into a shuddering mess hanging in his arms like a doll. A warm flush slid between your legs.

Loki spun to the side, and the world upended. He’d swept you into a dip, his face inches from yours, and his eyes rising slowly from your lips to your eyes. Somewhere, Rogers whooped.

And there it was…the shit eating smirk.

You snapped to reality, pushing against Loki’s shoulder. He brought you upright with a deep crease slicing through his forehead and mumbled something as you pushed through the crowd, Do It For Me ringing in your ears.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You grabbed a Starktini from the bar, necking it and ignoring Barton’s yelling before making your way to the fire exit. The balcony was too crowded. Cold air hit like a slap, rippling over your bare shoulders and up the flounce of skirt. Your fingers curled against the fire escape, forehead resting against your hands. Fuck. You’d let him get under your skin. You’d promised it wouldn’t happen again.

“I lied.” Your ankle gave way, heel snapping through the grate and sending you wavering to the guard rail. Suddenly Loki’s arms were around you, but you flapped him away. “Piss off, Loki,” you gasped, gripping the rail. “I’m fine. Jesus…you scared the shit out of me.” The angles of Loki’s face were illuminated in moonlight: brows lowered; mouth drawn tight. You sighed. “What do you want?” “I lied,” he said again. Now you remembered. “Well, what’s new? It’s your thing.” He frowned. “Well, it is,” you said, exasperated. “Never with you.” His eyes were a storm of wretched midnights, but his jaw trembled. You noted the strain of his shirt buttons, the creases forming with each deep, measured breath. A tremor passed through his features as he said. “Before, when I said I could do anything—I lied.” “Oh?” “I couldn’t hold on to you.” Your heart dropped somewhere around your knees. “Well, yeah, I guess. It was about more than just the dancing though, you know that, right?” “Mmm.”

In the time it took to look up, Loki was standing in front of you; the heat from his chest radiating the space between your bodies. He licked his lips, and they shaped words you never thought you’d hear. “Is it too late for us?” he asked softly.

“Loki…” “A month is a long time to spend with only one’s thoughts for company.” “Hardly. You were on a mission with Barton and Lang.” “Mentally alone, if not physically. You should hear the things they consider stimulating conversation. Do you know what a blumpkin entails?” He waited, a shadow flitting across his face. “Because I do.” You bit your lip, chest shaking with ill-advised laughter, and when you looked up, Loki’s smile was waiting. The real one. And then, your throat tightened. “You took the waitress’s number.” “Did I?” Loki’s voice went up an octave. “How strange,” he mused as a long finger tapped at his chin. “I distinctly remember not taking her number. In fact, I believe it might still be on the bar. Perhaps Lang will find it—perhaps he’ll finally experience the blumpkin he seeks.” “You winked at her.”

Something shifted inside you as the words shaped your tongue; thin threads of hope winding snug around your insides, the lie of your indifference circling like liquid down a drain. Loki shrugged lightly. “I had to give her something. What was I to do? The woman was clearly smitten—and I’m nothing if not benevolent.”

You rolled your eyes again. “Don’t…” he said, stepping closer.

One arm rose against the wall behind you, his skin silver in moonlight. “You know how that drives me to the brink of sanity.” “Maybe that’s what I want.” “Is it?” His eyes flashed, gaze dropping to your lips. “Well, it’s working.” Your chest ached with the effort of holding in the need to hyperventilate. This was everything you’d wanted as you lay in bed alone, everything you hadn’t dared hope for. That he would fight for you. And yet…With Loki, there was always an ‘And yet’.

But tonight, you didn’t want to think about that. Not yet.

Like a dream, you fingered the open collar of Loki’s shirt, grazing a nail across the exposed skin. He shivered. “Darling,” he whispered, and then, your lips were on his. One kiss slipped into the next like words, the groans deep in his throat and the fingers winding in your hair like blazing starlight. “Up, up,” you gasped between kisses.

Loki obliged, large hands dipping to your thighs and hoisting you against the polished outer walls of Stark Tower with a squeak. He fumbled with the line of your underwear, a mumbled fuck it preceding the warm fizz of his magic against your skin. Your fingers ripped at the buttons of his suit trousers, delving for the unbearably hard cock pressing against your cunt. Every vein, every velvet ridge, every inch that made him whimper when you traced it with your tongue. Loki’s breath was heavy, misting against your cheek as he breached with a broken chant of your name. Your head fell back against the wall, his mouth working down the valley of your throat as his hips rolled, filling you. “Loki, god…yes,” you panted to the darkened sky. He mumbled something unintelligible against your skin as your fingers twisted in his hair and the part of yourself that hoped this could be real burned brighter. There was nothing but here—nothing but the press of his flat stomach, the feel of his fingertips curling into your thighs and the seal of his cock unwinding your doubts with every thrust.

“Gods, I never meant to—” You silenced him with a kiss, delving into him with insatiable hunger. I never meant to push you away. I never meant to break your heart. It could wait. Orgasm sparked deep in your belly, rippling like a lit match from gasoline. Your legs tightened around his hips, forcing his cock deeper with an obscene squelch. “Faen, kvinne,” Loki grunted, one palm flying to the wall behind you and squeaking down metal. He bucked up, bottoming out a final, shattering time. Climax ripped through your body like a knife through leather, arms flying around his neck and pulling him close. His belt buckle was ice against your heated thighs, the grind of his hips flattening you to the wall. The god’s groans grew tight; urgent, something new stringing along his back muscles shifting under the drag of your fingernails. “Forgive me,” he sighed. You wondered if he’d stop himself tumbling over the edge if you didn’t. But the time for lies was over. “I forgive you,” you whispered, sucking his earlobe between your teeth. Loki’s guttural groan as he filled you with his cum was the world sliding beneath your feet, breaking apart and starting anew.

Tags in comments ❤️

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki x reader smut #loki x yn #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki oneshot #loki odinson x reader

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holylulusworld · 6 months ago

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Their girl

Summary: Your boss doesn’t even know your name. This doesn’t keep his guests from finding interest in you.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Shy!Reader x Mobster!Steve Rogers

Warnings: shy reader, tension, awkwardness, fluff, polyamory, love-struck mobsters

A/N: The sequel no one expected to get.

Catch up here: The nameless girl

True to their words, Steve and Bucky stood in front of your apartment the next evening.

They prepared everything for your date while you spent the better part of the day looking for a new job.

This couldn’t be real. And you believed they wanted to make fun of you by inviting you for dinner like one of the beautiful girls from the club.

“Hello doll,” Bucky lazily leaned in your door frame. He offered a bouquet of daisies to you and called you a pretty mouse.

“Sweet mouse,” Steve grinned and offered a single red rose to you, “you look…stunning.” They both looked dashing in their expensive suits, and polished shoes.

“I-sorry. I’m not ready yet and…” you nervously babbled. Still, in your oversized Peanuts shirt and sweatpants, you looked ridiculous next to them. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

“Why?” Bucky furrowed his brows. He looked a little hurt at your words. “Why’d you think we would not keep our word and come here to court you.”

“I,” you dropped your gaze, afraid you angered the two of them. “Men like you don’t usually pay attention to someone like me. I’m shy, meek, and a grey mouse in contrast to the dancers at the club.”

“Doll,” Bucky pushed the flowers in Steve’s hands so he could cup your face with both hands. “If we say we want to take you out,” he leaned closer to look you deep in the eyes. “We mean what we say. We want to take you out. Not one of the girls at the club nor anyone else.”

You sniffled and murmured an apology. It was strange to you that two men tried to get your attention. Life taught you that most men only like a pretty façade.

Many guys you met didn’t care if a girl was selfish, dumb, or had the worst character as long as they were pretty enough to get their attention.

“Y/N don’t apologize. I know we can be a bit overwhelming and intense,” Steve smirked when your eyes darted toward him. “Buck, tell her how much we like her.”

“Very much,” Bucky purred your name. He swiped his thumb over your lower lip only to groan deeply when you licked over his thumb and lightly sucked on it. “Fuck, Stevie. We got a dirty little mouse here.”

“Oh?” Steve watched you look at his friend like you were in a trance. “She’s such a cute surprise. Who would've thought we’d find our queen among all those boring girls.”

Bucky pecked your temple, making you sigh at the slightest touch of his lips. “We got lucky,” he said. “She’s one in a million.”

Steve chuckled at his friend’s eagerness. “How about we invite you for dinner at our home, Y/N. You can wear your cute shirt and sweatpants. We can have a sleepover and have dinner at the restaurant tomorrow.”

“We also got a job offer for you, doll,” Bucky whispered against your temple. “We got a free position in our organization.”

“Buck, that was a surprise!” Steve tutted but smirked when your eyes lit up. Losing your job at Clint’s club got you into trouble. Your landlord wants his money on time, not weeks or months later. “What do you say, doll? Do you want to come with us?”

“No.”

“No?” Bucky backpaddled at your answer. He looked you up and down, wondering if he misheard. “Did you say no?”

You took a deep breath and gathered all the courage you could muster and looked Bucky straight in the eyes.

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful, Mr. Barnes,” you confidentially said, even though, your voice trembled, “but you are still strangers to me. I cannot go with you, to a place I don’t know. I’m shy, not crazy.”

“Aw, she’s even cuter than I thought,” Steve chuckled at your little outburst. “You’re right, Y/N. We will wait outside of your apartment for you to get ready like gentlemen. Please excuse our forwardness.”

“Steve and I will take you out for dinner and drive you back home. We can talk about the job offer on our way to the restaurant. Only if you want to, of course,” Bucky pouted and held out his hand. “Please don’t leave us hanging.”

“I’ll be right back,” you excused yourself and closed the door behind you, exhaling deeply. Your knees shook, but you were also proud of yourself for standing up against Steve and Bucky.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, smirking for a second before they chuckled.

“She’s so cute when mad,” Bucky laughed. “God, it makes me wild imagining her squirming underneath me while I take her apart. She will whimper my name and beg me to fill her up and breed her. But not before I ate her sweet cunt.”

Steve laughed. “You’re a horny dog.”

“Says the man running around with a boner since he laid eyes on our sweet mouse,” Bucky bit back. “I hope you know I’ll have her first. She will melt in my arms.”

“I hope you know Y/N is not like the other girls you easily wrapped around your fingers.”

“I know,” the brunette smirked. “That’s what I like about her, Steve. I knew the moment I laid eyes on her that things would be different with Y/N. It’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“Phew, you got it bad for her,” Steve whistled.

“You are no better,” Bucky snickered. “I know you want to make her ours. Do not deny it. You’re in too deep yourself.”

Both men waited patiently for you to join them outside of your apartment. They offered their arm to you, acting like gentlemen while guiding you toward their car.

The ride toward the restaurant was both, exciting and a little scary. You got into a car with two strangers promising to make you their queen.

Steve held the door to the restaurant open for you while Bucky guided you inside.

“You’ll love the restaurant,” Bucky said as he pulled the chair for you. “Did I already tell you that you look beautiful tonight, doll?”

“Thank you,” you stammered. You didn’t know if he meant what he said. Your sky-blue mini-dress was far from elegant. While all the other women at the restaurant looked like they came straight out of a fashion magazine, you felt underdressed. “It’s new…”

“I like that color on you,” Steve cupped your chin with one hand to tilt your head. “It’s cute and sweet.” You gasped feeling his lips press against the corner of your mouth. “Just like you.”

Bucky’s features darkened when you leaned into his friend’s touch.

“Shall we eat, doll?” He pulled a chair for you, making your heart flutter. “Steve was right, Y/N. You look beautiful in your dress. Did you buy it only for us?”

You giggled and dropped your gaze. “No,” you lied. “I bought it some weeks ago.”

“Aw, our doll believes she can lie to us, Buck,” Steve flashed you a stunning smile. “We know that you wanted to look pretty for us, Y/N. It’s not a bad thing you want to impress us. We did the same. Bucky spent two hours in his closet to find the perfect suit only to drive to town and buy a new one.”

“Steve did the same,” Bucky grabbed a chair and moved it closer to your seat. “He just likes to make everyone believe he looks good in everything without effort, including a potato sack.”

Steve grinned and ran one hand down his chest. “I’d rock that potato sack, Barnes. You know that.”

“I bet you would,” you murmured while eyeing Steve. He looked damn good in his suit and knew it. Men like him and Bucky always know how handsome they are. “You’re both very handsome.”

“Baby, you don’t have to stroke Steve’s ego,” Bucky moved his hand to your thigh to tickle your skin. “It’s already over the top. How about you stroke mine.”

“I think yours is over the top too,” you replied and gave him a tiny smirk before clearing your throat. “So…can we talk about the job now? You got me fired last night.”

“Straight to the point. I like it,” Steve grabbed the remaining chair and moved closer to yours too. He sat down only to place his hand on your other thigh. “We need someone to take care of our paperwork for our more legal business.”

“We need someone we can trust. Steve and I are rather bored when doing office work. You on the other hand have a lot of experience,” Bucky toyed with the hem of your dress while telling you more about the position you always dreamed of.

“How do you know about my work experience?”

“Baby doll, we are enchanted by you. This doesn’t mean we let a wolf in sheep’s clothing inside the inner circle of our business.” Steve pressed a soft kiss to your neck, making you sigh. “If you want the job, it’s yours.”

Bucky mirrored his partner. He pressed a soft kiss to your neck, lips nipping at the soft skin. “Oh, and the best is. You can bang your bosses…”

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #mafia au #mobster!steve rogers #mobster!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes

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wistfulpoltergeist · 4 months ago

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Amadeo Goldfield

Son of Elon Goldfield (filthy rich real estate developer and investor). A gorgeous young man of high origin trying to cut ties with his influential, oppressive family by setting up his own business. Awfully cheap Victorian house on the hill seems like a good start.

Dr. Mark Stonefall

Professor of Psychology, war veteran and member of the Parapsychological Association, investigates the paranormal with his loyal army pal and assistant, Jason. Author of several works on telepathy and extrasensory perception.

Gloria Heartaway

Mark's ex-girlfriend and therapy couch for a short time after the war. They graduated together from one faculty, yet Gloria is skeptical and finds parapsychology all fake, has strong belief in scientific methods and medicine. Mostly deals with trivia problems of high society wives.

Jason Analu

Former soldier and war veteran, Mark's flatmate and assistant. His family came from a lineage of (Sulani) healers and shamans, making him curious about his friend's research.

Elliot O'Brian

Wonder boy, a young man who beat the telepathy test giving 90% correct answers. While the world admires his abilities, his own family wishes him dead. Simply because you can't hide anything from Elliot. A cook from some small pizzeria who dreams about opening his own restaurant.

Pani Freya Burana

Hereditary witch, Tarot expert and medium who speaks with the dead through automatic writing. She lives in her own world of occult and believes she was born to give the living a well-deserved magic kick (for a small, almost insignificant fee of a few thousand). Author of ten books on how to open a Goddess within you and one on how to buy all your Goddess wants but can't afford.

Mr and Mrs Rogers

Servants in Hillhouse, strange pious, somber siblings who look after the mansion as their parents did before them, and their grandparents before that… They know that the house is haunted and the only way to avoid being cursed is to leave before dark, stay loyal and do their bids solemnly.

Hecate Moreno

15-years old Russell's half-sister, left by their father to Russell's care. Her mother died in a car crash when she was five. After Mr Moreno married a prosperous journalist and TV hostess and had three more kids with her, he lost any interest in his older kids as a painful reminder of his stressful past. Hecate is a grim, angry teen with a heart filled with dark thoughts and an irresistible appeal to horror movies. The only person she truly cares for is her brother. Secretly, she dreams about Russell turning into a vampire and eating up all their happy, successful family. She'd buy popcorn to watch that.

Russell Moreno

The plumber.

#*The Plumber Of Hill House*#*The Plumber Of Hill House* Characters #Story is on 75% written :D #Gods know I'm planning to make it in Sims 4 #But if the new Update kills my babies AGAIN #I'm moving on Blender guys #I mean it T__T #the sims 4 #my sims 4 stories #sims 4 story #my sims #my ocs <3 #sims 4 characters

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heytheredelulu · 7 months ago

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Marvel Fanfiction Masterlist

Imagines

Bucky Barnes x Reader 💙

Little Devil 🌶️

You’re tempting him to sin.

Ruin Me 🌶️

Say less.

Bucky @ Ulta 🌶️✨

You dragged him with you.

Five Senses ❤️‍🩹✨

You walk him through the grounding method.

I Gotta Take This 🌶️

Bucky wants to make an excuse to slip out of the mission briefing.

Simple

Bucky Barnes enjoys the simple things in life.

To Have and to Hold and to Fuck Whenever I Want

You really think a little bit of blood is going to keep your husband from having you?

Steve Rogers x Reader ❤️

Like Sin 🌶️❤️‍🩹

Your possessive boyfriend accuses you of cheating on him with his best friend- and you decide to rile him up.

Loki x Reader 💚

Yearn for You 🌶️✨

You’ve been friends since childhood, after all this time could he truly feel nothing for you?

Winter Rose Drabbles

The Winter Rose, an ex HYDRA assassin trauma bonded with Bucky Barnes in the aftermath of their deconditioning. They’re walking the fine line of love and friendship and both of them are too afraid to cross it.

Bucky Barnes x Winter Rose 🥀

Wounds ❤️‍🩹✨

Wash Over Me ✨

Fuck the Line 🌶️❤️‍🩹

One Shots

Bucky Barnes x Reader 💙

Temptation ❤️‍🔥

You text your boyfriend a nude selfie while he’s working and now he can’t stop thinking about it.

Good Girl ❤️‍🔥

So close you could taste it- but only if you begged him well enough.

Wants and Needs ❤️‍🔥

You come home late from girls night knowing Bucky will still be up. You want need him and you’re finally going to let him know.

Little Bookworm ❤️‍🔥

Your boyfriend can’t think of anything more adorable than watching you read. One night while you’re in the shower he picks up the book you left on the nightstand: “Haunting Adeline by H.D. Carlton” and thumbs through it, very quickly realizing just what kind of books his sweet little bookworm is really into.

Watch Me ❤️‍🔥

Anon request: “could you do something enemies/rivals where bucky accidentally finds out that you have a mirror kink during a training session?”

Unbreakable ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥

You’ve always wanted to be a mother but your husband is too tormented by his past to believe he could ever be a good father. For so long you’ve accepted that it will never be in the cards for you- after all, it’s only a small price to pay to continue to live the life you’ve built with the man you love. But what happens when you finally admit that you want what he refuses to give you? Will you push him away with your confession or will you finally make him realize that he’s not the man he believes himself to be?

Unbreakable- The After Years ✨🌶️

The conclusion to your story.

Stucky x Reader 💙❤️

Untitled - In progress ❤️‍🔥

Multipart fics

Bucky Barnes x Reader 💙

Ready to Comply Part One ❤️‍🔥

Tony Stark's shy, curvy intern finds herself fighting for her life when the quiet and reserved ex-assassin she's been pining after for nearly a year has been activated by HYDRA and given the order to kill her to prevent the completion of the new tech she's been developing alongside Tony Stark and Stark Industries.

Ready to Comply Part Two ❤️‍🔥

The second installment of Ready to Comply.

Ready to Comply Part Three - In progress ❤️‍🔥

Teaser

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bigification · 24 days ago

Text

Avengers Assemble - Halloween TF

"I can't believe Tony rented out the entire fucking penthouse for this shit." Bruce exclaimed as the three men entered the elevator.

"When has he ever spent less than like 100 grand on a party." Jon responded.

"And why did it have to be a Marvel themed Halloween party, I could have been some sexy vampire or something. Now I'm stuck in this tight ass captain america suit." Grant complained.

"At least you didn't have to paint yourself green for your costume."

"Aww, but it was so perfect. Your name is Bruce so you had to be Bruce Banner."

"Then why couldn't I just throw in some glasses and wear some nerdy clothes. I don't know why I should have to paint myself green if all you have to do is throw on a chest plate and buy a cheap hammer off Amazon."

"Hey, I dyed my hair blonde for this costume. And you didn't have to paint yourself green."

The men's bickering was interrupted by the elevator door suddenly opening. It was still one level lower than the penthouse.

"You pressed the wrong fucking floor Grant." Bruce accused.

"I pressed the one that said penthouse." Grant defended.

Their bickering was once again interrupted as a futuristic robot approached the elevator.

"Welcome to Stark Tower, please come in to confirm identity." The robot asked.

The three men stood in confusion for a moment before reluctantly following the robot out of the elevator.

"Tony spent more money on this than I thought."

"His dad must have given him a bigger allowance this month."

"There is no allowance. Mr. Stark built with his own hands."

"Who the fuck are you talking about, Mr. Stark?"

"Dude shut up, it was probably just programmed to along with the theme of the party."

The robot suddenly stopped in the middle of the room and turned towards the men.

"Please reach out your hand so I can confirm your identity." The robot asked facing Bruce.

"Uugh ok. Tony's really commited to this theme." Bruce said while reaching his hand toward the robot. "Ah fuck!" Bruce yelled as a small needle pierced his hand.

"Identity confirmed, welcome Bruce Banner."

"What the hell was that?" Bruce recoiled.

"Please reach out your hand so I can confirm your identity." The robot turned to Grant, ignoring Bruce's reaction.

Jon reluctantly reached out his hand and a similar needle punctured his hand.

"Ow, that hurt more than I thought it would."

"Identity confirmed, welcome Steve Rogers."

"Oh that's sick!" Grant yelled in excitement.

"Please reach out your hand so I can confirm your identity." The robot turned to the last man, Jon.

"Hmmm." Jon mumbled under his breath, trying to hide his pain.

"Identity confirmed, welcome Thor."

The men stood there in silence for a moment, waiting for the robot to give them further instructions.

"Sooo?" Jon asked, getting impatient.

"Waiting for transformation process."

"What?" Grant said in an aggressive tone.

"Guys... What's going on?" Bruce held out his arm, showing his veins turn to a green hue.

"What the fuck is happening to you?" Jon took a few steps away from him.

"I... Don't... Know." Bruce struggled to say as his voice turned into more of a growl. All his muscles tensed up as his body began to grow. His spine stretched, making his height grow higher and higher by the second.

"Oh my god..." Grant's jaw dropped as he watched his friend grow. His head tilted back as he now had to look up at Bruce.

Bruce grunted and growled, it sounded like he was in pain and pleasure. His shoulder nearly doubled in size as his biceps grew to the size of watermelons. His forearms followed suit and his hands became massive, big enough to wrap fully around someone's head.

"What did you do to him!?" Jon yelled at the robot, to no response.

By this point Bruce's skin was completely green, but his body was far from complete. His flat chest surged with muscle, creating two meaty pecs that hung over his stomach. Speaking of his stomach, all the fat he accumulated in his gut from his lavish lifestyle melted away, leaving him with a defined six pack and a V shaped torso.

"Huuu... Uulk." Bruce managed to speak in a deep raspy voice.

His two friends couldn't say a word, they just stood watching him morph into a monster.

The transformation shifted down towards his legs, on the way his flat ass burst outward with fat, creating two perky fat cheeks that threatened to rip through his costumes purple shorts. The bulge in the front of his tight shorts grew exponentially. At first it was barely visible against the taught fabric, but it grew to 8, 10, 12, over 14 inches in moments. It swung out as it finally ripped through his poor pants.

His thighs quickly followed, growing even longer and making Hulk's head hit the ceiling. They grew thicker than tree stumps, making his monstrous dick seem more proportional. And his feet ripped through his tiny shoes in an instant, easily growing 30 sizes in seconds.

"Is it me or is he kinda hot now." Grant said.

"What the hell are you talking about!?" Jon yelled, completely shocked at what he heard.

"I... I don't know why I said that." Grant seemed to snap out of the trance he was in.

Bruce's transformation finally came to an end as his head began to change. His head grew at least twice the size, now being in proportion with the rest of his massive body. His jawline became more square and his jawline became more prominent, giving him a more masculine look to match the huge muscles on his body. His hair shortened to a buzz cut and became a black colour as a black five I clock shadow covered his face. The hair quickly spread across his body, especially covering his chest.

"Hulk... Is... Me." Hulk managed to say between heavy breaths.

"Welcome, Hulk." The robot said as he brought over a rock necklace and a massive towel.

The hulk put on the necklace and covered himself with the towel before taking a seat and waiting for his friends to arrive.

"Is it just me or is it really hot in here, this stupid costume is making me sweat." Grant complained as he tried to readjust the tight suit.

"Yeah it's just you.." Jon paused as he turned to face Grant. "Dude, look at your arms."

Grant stopped pulling at his uniform and looked down at his own body. His arms were almost pulsating, getting bigger and bigger each time.

"Ohhh no, it's happening to you too." Jon backed away from his friends, afraid of what was to come. Grant was completely distracted by his own body, unable to process his friend's reaction.

Grant's arms grew until they threatened to rip through his uniform, showing off his perfect definition through the fabric. His hands followed suit, becoming thick and calloused from whipping that shield around all the time. On that note, he felt the shield on his back become significantly heavier as the once cheap plastic shield became pure Vibranium. His shoulders then broadened, growing until they perfectly fit the straps that held his shield, as if that uniform had been custom fit to him.

"Grant? What the fuck is going on!" Jon yelled, but it was as if Grant couldn't even hear him.

"No Grant. Steve." The hulk replied.

Steve's body started to seize slightly as his chest burst out into two muscly pecs, accented by the silver star that boldly sat on top of them. The skin tight suit had previously shown off his small gut and fluffy love handles, but his gut dramatically swelled and stretched his uniform to its brink before collapsing into itself, leaving a sharp six pack and slutty waist in its place.

"Damn, Rogers. You're gonna need to show me how you abs like that." Jon said in a British accent, which was an odd departure from his American accent. He immediately covered his mouth, in shock of both what he said and the accent he said it in. Though the remark did get a laugh from the Hulk.

Steve leaned forward as his previously unremarkable ass swelled into the 'Americas Ass' that he's well known for. His pant legs looked as if they'd been pumped with air as his thighs thickened and filled his pants to their limit. And the loose pouch covering his crotch came in good use when his dick started to pulsate, similar to how his muscles had before they grew. Pleasure shot all through his body as one of his hands held his crotch and the other cupped his thick pecs. All he could think about was how hot it was that he was the Steve Rogers. And meanwhile his dick grew harder and longer, much larger than it ever had before. It pressed hard against his uniform, pulsating back and forth, begging for release. Well he would have to wait long. He let out a deep moan in an unrecognizable voice while a stain developed in his crotch.

"Ah, fuck not again. I can't keep bringing this suit back to the dry cleaners with cum stains on it."

While he complained, well trimmed hairs sprouted across his face as his jawline sharpened. His face slimmed down and his features became more mature and masculine.

"Ugh, I don't know why but my muscles feel so tight today. I need to get back to the gym."

The robot approached him while he was stretching his muscles.

"Welcome Captain America." The robot said while handing over a small towel for the stain in his pants.

"Thanks buddy."

"You realize it's just a robot, you don't need to be nice to it." Jon replied in a condescending tone, fully letting in to the British accent.

"Thor are you drunk already, we haven't even got to the party yet." Steve laughed.

"I... I'm not Thor." Jon slurred his words, despite not having drank anything yet.

"Sure." Steve replied as he turned towards the Hulk. "What's up." He said as he punched the Hulk on the shoulder.

"Waiting... Thor."

"Me too buddy, he'll be here soon."

Steve sat beside Hulk and the two sat and waited for their friend to arrive.

Jon stumbled around the room trying to find his balance. His mind was a blur as it adjusted to the changes his body was going through. He gritted his teeth as a bushy blonde beard sprouted from his face. It grew down to his chest, unkept and untamed. And his short brown hair started to grow long, becoming a lighter hue in the process.

"I don't remember Thor having a massive beard like that, it kinda suits him." Steve pointed out.

Much like his two friends, Jon's body began to rapidly grow, but it didn't go quite like it had for the others. Sure his arms did grow large with muscle, but they also got covered in a thick layer of fat, making them lose their definition. The same happened to his forearms, and his hands became thick as fat pumped his fingers like sausages.

His shoulders broadened to fit his costume, but unlike Steve, his uniform remained a cheap knock off. The metal armour was just silver fabric and the cape was just a red blanket. That wouldn't matter for long though as his flat stomach started to bulge outward. Surely this was leading to Thor's chiselled abs being formed under his uniform, but it wasn't. Steve and Hulk watched in horror as a round beer gut slowly grew under the god's costume. The cheap fabric ripped to shreds, releasing his soft belly to hang over his waist band.

"I don't remember that being there." Steve remarked.

"Thor fat?" Hulk asked.

"It looks like it, yeah."

It wasn't over however. If the massive gut wasn't bad enough, his now bare chest began to swell. At first it seemed like they were growing with muscle, but the muscle quickly became engulfed in soft fat. They swelled into man tits, sagging to the sides of his gut. His back didn't fare much better, rolls of fat formed all down his formerly chiselled back and thick love handles filled in his thin waist, rounding out his body shape.

"Oh god it's awful, but I can't take my eyes off of it. Isn't there something hot about the god of thunder letting himself go and becoming... that." Steve pointed out, looking to Hulk for a response. Hulk only gave a shrug in response.

Thor leaned against a wall for support, trying to get used to his changing proportions. Though he was far from over. The sound of fabric ripping once again echoed around the room as Thor's ass grew fat and flabby. His pants finally gave way when his thighs thickened, leaving him in nothing but a tight jockstrap that pressed into his soft legs.

"Ohhh that jock is not big enough for him." Steve chimed in, making sure to keep his eyes on Thor.

Steve was right, that jock was meant to contain Jon, not the god of thunder himself. His dick quickly doubled in length and girth, causing only the tip to be inside the jock, but his expanding fat pad quickly covered up most of his cock. Also the laces on his boots began to snap off when his feet grew 5 sizes, causing his shoes to be on the brink of exploding.

Meanwhile, his head was still undergoing changes. His now blonde hair grew down past his shoulders and matted together. His facial features grew strong and masculine, but also soft as the fat rounded out his face. And a thick double chin formed under his jaw, although it was luckily covered by his massive beard.

As the transformation came to an end, Thor finally took a step away from the wall. He let out a hefty belch while rubbing his stomach.

"Anyone got a beer?" He asked, seemingly annoyed.

The robot approached him.

"Welcome, Thor." It held out a pair of sweatpants and a beer.

Thor snatched the pants and slid them on before grabbing the beer and stumbling over to a nearby chair.

"Damn Thor, what happened to you." Steve commented while trying to contain his laughter.

"What do you mean what happened to me?" Thor played dumb.

"You got fat!" Steve was no longer containing his laughter as he walked across the room toward Thor.

"Well you're the perv with a cum stain." Thor tried laughing between beer fueled burps.

"You're calling me a perv, I remember what you did to me back in New York." Steve leaned in close enough to smell the beer off of Thor breath and ran his finger down Thor's gut towards his crotch.

"Oh so you do like the belly?" Thor flirted back.

"Hulk tired of waiting." Hulk grunted as he grabbed both men by the arms and dragged them towards the elevator. Thor seemingly unaware of the fact that he left his hammer behind. The previously plastic hammer sparkled with blue lightning as it sat behind Thor's chair.

The Hulk squeezed into the elevator, holding the two men on either side of him. The air was awkwardly silent though the short elevator ride while Hulk continued to hold Steve and Thor the entire time. The elevator chimed and the door opened to reveal Tony Stark, welcoming you to his penthouse.

#male tf #masculine #fat tf #male transformation #reality change #hairy #male wg #muscle tf #age progression #superhero tf

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srgntjamesbuckybarnes · 9 months ago

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No More Hiding

Summary: When accused of stealing chickens from Mr. Sherman’s farm, Steve brings Bucky to investigate but ends up learning more about his friend’s private life.

Rating: Everyone

Pairing: Alpha Bucky Barnes x Omega Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 900+

A/N: Not Beta'd. Some fluff to counter the angst I posted earlier.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Rogers, get out here now!”

Steve stalked to the front door, jerking the handle with a huff. This wasn’t the first time someone complained about his pack. Most of the humans were against a pack of wolves living so close to their homes. While the humans bared their guns, Steve opted for peace.

“Mr. Sherman,” Steve greeted. “What can I do for you?”

The old man scowled. “A couple of my chickens are missing. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that now, would you?”

Steve frowned, crossing his arms across his chest. Mr. Sherman was an old farmer who lived a few miles down the road. A few chickens went missing here and there over the last month and each time Mr. Sherman paid Steve a visit.

“You should invest in a better chicken coop. I already told you; my pack has nothing to do with your chickens going missing.”

The old man took a large step in Steve’s direction, his finger crooked. “Don’t lie to me. I have proof. There’s prints the size of a wolf’s paw all over the coop.”

Steve was stunned. The first time Mr. Sherman complained, Steve called a pack meeting to settle the tension between the pack and farmer. Each of them swore up and down that they hadn’t stepped a foot onto Mr. Sherman’s property. Steve believed them. He had no reason not to. They had everything they needed.

“Don’t look so surprised. I’ll show you and that brute who’s always stealing my game. If you don’t punish the thief, then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

Steve nodded. “I didn’t find anything last time I checked. I’ll bring Bucky by the coop. He’s got the best nose in the pack. If anyone can find the culprit, it’s Bucky.”

Mr. Sherman didn’t spare a word as he turned his back on Steve. His footsteps echoed along the rickety porch steps.

It wasn't much later that Steve confirmed Mr. Sherman was right. The prints in the mud belonged to a wolf. The pack leader examined the paw prints as Bucky looked inside of the chicken coop. Every once in a while, Bucky’s nose would twitch but he never said anything.

“Well?” Mr. Sherman snapped with his hand on his hips.

Steve pondered if a neighboring pack crossed into their territory. That would cause bigger issues.

Bucky brushed past Steve and the farmer on his way out of the chicken coop. “You’re wrong. Must have been a dog. Do any of your neighbors have one?” Bucky casually asked, his hands tucked into the pockets in his jeans.

Steve raised an eyebrow in Bucky’s direction.

Before Mr. Sherman could answer, Bucky headed into the woods separating the farmer’s land from the pack’s home. Steve apologized to Mr. Sherman, then chased after his friend.

“You know who it is, don’t you, Buck.” Steve didn’t need a verbal confirmation. The way Bucky’s eyes focused like they did when he hunted, and his nostrils flared told Steve they were tracking someone. Keeping up with Bucky’s large steps, Steve questioned, “Is it one of ours?”

Bucky grunted, occasionally stopping to sniff a leaf or a branch. “Omega.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “How do you know?”

He made a sharp right, plowing branches in his path. “Smaller prints and sweeter scent.”

The prints made sense to Steve, but he hadn’t smelled anything. Steve hung back and observed the way Bucky stormed the woods like a mad man. That's when realization hit him. It was the only explanation for his best friend's behavior. Bucky Barnes found his omega.

When Steve finally caught up to Bucky, he tread carefully. It didn’t matter. Bucky’s scent alone was strong enough to draw the omega’s attention to the pair.

“Alpha?” The omega pushed herself into a sitting position on the porch. The cabin in the woods wasn’t the most luxurious house, but it was theirs.

Bucky dropped to his knees on the steps below his omega to be eye level with her, to be equal. “It’s me ‘mega.” Bucky muttered, his palm enveloping her cheek. Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut as she leaned into his touch. The moment was short lived when Steve cleared his throat. Y/N’s startled eyes locked on Bucky’s. She knew about Bucky’s pack, but he never brought them around. He never brought her to them either. The couple basked in the idea of it being just the two of them for a while.

Bucky asked, “Someone’s been terrorizing poor Mr. Sherman. Stealing his chickens. Do you know anything about that?”

Y/N knew she’d been caught. She also knew which buttons to press to get her way with her alpha. She tucked her chin into her chest and stared back at Bucky with doe eyes. “Of course not, Bucky.” She batted her lashes.

Containing his laughter, Bucky plucked a feather from Y/N’s hair. Pinching the feather between his fingers, he tossed it over his shoulder toward Steve. Bucky cupped Y/N’s cheeks planting a soft kiss to her lips.

Steve frowned, “She can’t keep stealing Mr. Sherman's chickens. You know if he finds out he’ll have the whole town after us.”

Bucky stood, holding his hand out to help Y/N to her feet. Turning his head to Steve he replied, “I’ll take responsibility for her. She’s my omega. I’ll take care of her.” Turning back to Y/N, he squeezed both of her hands. “Come on ‘mega, no more hiding. Time to take you home.”

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brunchable · 3 months ago

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LAZARUS SERUM || Steve Rogers x Enhanced!FReader [18+]

Part II

Part One | Part Three Words: 12.2K Themes: Angst, Drama, Violence (causing 1 death), Action (Fighting Scenes: With Steve and Tony), Hatred, Lovers to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers. Warning: Smut with The Winter Soldier. Choking, Spanking, Mild Degredation? Unprotected piv sex, hair-pulling, dirty-talking. Sneak Peak: “So,” you drawled, breaking the silence with a voice dripping in mockery, “The great Captain America finally graces me with his presence. I must say, I’m flattered. Though, I’m starting to think you only come around when your self-righteousness needs a little top-up.” A/N: The council has spoken and they said include the Bucky seggs scene. If you don't want to read that part, then just skip it? Let me know if you want to be tagged, yes? Thank you.

Tags: @needsleep3000 @vicmc624 @i-can-do-this-all-dayy @mrs-jjmaybank @strepsils123 @nesnejwritings @haruvalentine4321 @feelinthefic @niffala

The bar in Brooklyn was filled with the sounds of celebration. Soldiers clinked their glasses together, sharing stories of their latest victory, their laughter and cheers filling the air. But at a small table in the corner, Steve Rogers sat in silence, a drink in his hand that he hadn’t touched. The noise around him felt distant, muffled by the weight of his thoughts.

Bucky made his way through the crowd, a smile tugging at his lips as he spotted Steve. The relief of seeing his friend safe brought a warmth to his chest. He dropped into the chair beside Steve, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Steve! Man, I can’t wait to see Y/N’s reaction when she finds out we’re back. She’s probably worried sick.”

Steve’s smile faltered, his grip tightening around his glass. He took a deep breath, the words he knew he had to say caught in his throat.

“Yeah… she always did worry,” he replied, his tone withdrawn.

“I can see it now—she’s gonna give us hell, but she’ll be glad to see us, especially you.” Bucky didn’t notice at first, too caught up in the moment.

Steve forced a weak smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The knot in his stomach tightened as Bucky spoke, and he was afraid to confess, afraid of Bucky's reaction. He stared at the drink in his hand, the weight of his guilt growing heavier by the second.

Bucky finally noticed the tension in Steve’s posture, the way he avoided eye contact. His smile faded, replaced by concern. “Steve… What's going on? Something's bothering you.”

Steve exhaled slowly, his lips twitching as he shook his head, “Bucky… something happened before I left for the rescue.”

“Okay?” Bucky furrowed his eyes, a couple of scenarios reeling in his head, “Did you get Y/N pregnant?”

“What? No…” Steve shook his head vigorously, although he'd prefer to be in that situation compared to this.

“Then what happened?” Bucky’s concern deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned in.

Steve hesitated, the shame now joined his emotions list. “Y/N and I… we had a fight. A bad one.”

“A fight?” Bucky echoed, a bit confused since a fight is normal in relationships. “About what?”

Steve struggled to find the words, but there’s no turning back. “I said some things I shouldn’t have. I questioned her loyalty. I… I let jealousy get the better of me. I asked her if she was only with me out of pity, or if… if maybe she had feelings for you instead.”

“Jesus, Steve…” he muttered, blinking his eyes in disappointment and Steve’s head dropped, his shame too heavy to face Bucky directly. Bucky stared at Steve, the shock giving way to a rising tide of anger. “You've got to be out of your mind if you really believe that.”

“I know, but… at the time, I was blinded.”

“Steve, do you remember when you first got that rejection letter from the army, and you were down in the dumps? Y/N was the one who picked you back up. She stayed with you for hours, talking you through it. And when you were sick with pneumonia, she practically moved in with you to help take care of you. She barely slept for days nursing you.” Bucky leaned forward, his voice growing more intense as he fought to control his emotions.

Steve nodded slowly, each memory a painful reminder of how much he had taken for granted, “I know, Bucky. I know she was always there for me.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, figuring out how to spit out what he wanted to say.

“And I’ll admit it okay?” Bucky continued, his eyes looking anywhere but Steve. “I… I love Y/N. But she was too busy to notice because her heart was yours. Devotedly.”

Steve felt a squeeze in his chest by the shock of Bucky’s confession. He stared at Bucky, wide-eyed and stunned, struggling to process the words. He knew Bucky liked you but not love.

Steve’s chest tightened, the weight of Bucky’s words pressing down on him. “I was wrong. But that night… I couldn’t see past my own jealousy and fear.”

“Stop making excuses,” Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, his frustration growing. “So what happened? You just let her walk away?”

Steve’s voice trembled as he admitted the truth. “No. I walked away. I left her alone, and in the morning her mother called me. She disappeared, and it’s because of me.”

Bucky’s world seemed to spin as the full impact of Steve’s words hit him like a truck.

“Gone?” he repeated, allowing the word to sink in. “What do you mean by gone?”

“She's missing, Bucky,” Steve said, his voice thick with regret. “I tried to find her, but… she was just gone. And it’s my fault. I—”

Bucky staggered back, a mixture of emotions crashing over him like a wave. “How could you do that, Steve? After everything… how could you leave her like that? And then, in the midst of all this… how could you even dance with that fucking agent lady?”

Steve’s eyes widened slightly at Bucky’s outburst, the raw anger in his friend’s voice catching him off guard. “Bucky, I—”

But Bucky wasn’t finished. His emotions boiled over, and before Steve could say another word, Bucky slammed his fist down on the table, causing the glasses to rattle. His voice shook with animosity and he leaned in closer, his eyes blazing.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to! But now… now you don’t actually get the chance. Now we both have to live with the fact that she’s missing? maybe dead? And for what?”

Steve flinched at the word, ‘dead’. Steve’s head dropped, his shoulders slumping under the crushing weight of his guilt.

Bucky couldn’t process it, couldn’t reconcile the Steve he knew with the one who had let you slip away. He pushed back from the table, shaking his head in disbelief as the pain and anger twisted inside him.

“Get out of my way.” Bucky pushed a drunkard out of his way and stomped off.

The noise of the bar faded into the background as Bucky walked away, his heart heavy with the knowledge that the one person who had always been there for both of them was now gone. And as Steve sat alone, the victory they had fought so hard for felt hollow, drowned out by the guilt and loss that now ate him from the inside, out.

× × × ×

Steve and Natasha drove through the busy streets, the cityscape bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. The mission had hit a temporary lull. Natasha, ever the observant one, noticed the contemplative look on Steve’s face as he navigated the streets.

Steve had just found out that Bucky is alive and it was a lot for him to take in. Steve's mind was a storm—he was at some point relieved he's alive but at the same time, he wasn’t. How was it possible? His best friend, the man he had mourned for decades, was not only alive but had been turned into a weapon by HYDRA. The thought alone made his stomach churn.

He remembered the nights he and Bucky would wander the streets, talking about their dreams, their future—an uncertain future that had been stolen from them by the war. Now, everything felt different, tainted by the knowledge of what had become of Bucky.

Steve’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as a wave of guilt washed over him. He had failed Bucky—failed to save him, failed to protect him. And now, Bucky was out there, a shadow of the man he once was, driven by forces beyond his control. The weight of that failure pressed down on Steve’s chest like a vice, making it hard to breathe.

"So," Natasha started, her tone light but probing, "anyone special back home? Or are you still dodging those office setups with Agent 13?"

Steve chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "She’s nice, but… I’m not really looking right now."

"Come on, Steve. A guy like you—there’s gotta be someone," Natasha pressed, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Or was there someone? Back in the day."

Steve’s smile faded a bit, and he glanced out the window, his mind clearly elsewhere. Natasha immediately picked up on the change in his demeanor.

"There was someone," he admitted quietly, his tone a mixture of fondness and regret.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Oh? Now, this sounds interesting. Tell me about her."

Steve hesitated, the memories of the past tugging at him. "Her name was Y/N. We were together before the war—before I was Captain."

"Ooh, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. What happened?" Natasha's expression softened.

Steve sighed, his grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel. "I let her go. After I got the serum, I… well, I let it get to my head."

"What do you mean?” Natasha turned slightly in her seat, giving him her full attention.

Steve exhaled slowly, he felt like he's reliving the massive mistake of his life. "I started getting attention from girls—more than I ever had before. And I liked it. I let my brand-new image get to my head, and started to think maybe I deserved it after everything I went through. But it wasn’t real, and I lost sight of what was important. I pushed Y/N away, even though she was the one who had been there for me before everything."

Natasha clicked her tongue in disapproval, but her eyes softened with understanding. "Steve, you were young, and everything changed overnight. That kind of shift… it’s hard not to get swept up in it."

Steve nodded, but the regret in his eyes was unmistakable. "I know, but that’s no excuse. I let her down. By the time I realized what I’d done, it was too late. She was gone, disappeared without a trace."

"Did you try to find her?" Natasha asked, her voice gentle.

"I did," Steve said, his voice thick with emotion, like he was reliving the time where he scoured every nook and cranny of Brooklyn for her. "I tried everything I could, but she was just… gone. Her mother called me, told me Y/N had disappeared the morning after I walked away. I can’t help but think that if I’d done things differently, she’d still be here."

Natasha reached over, placing a hand on his arm in a comforting gesture. "Steve, you can’t carry that guilt forever. You made mistakes, sure, but that doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of forgiveness."

Steve’s expression remained pained, his eyes filled with regret. "I wish I could go back and make it right, Nat. She deserved better than what I gave her."

Natasha gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "You can’t change the past, Steve, but you can learn from it. If she’s still alive, you owe it to both of you to try and make things right."

Steve looked at Natasha, his gratitude clear, but the weight of his past still heavy on his shoulders. "If she is, I just don’t know if she’d ever forgive me. Or if I even deserve it."

Natasha offered a small, understanding smile. "Forgiveness is a two-way street, Steve. You’ll never know unless you try."

Steve just nodded.

As they continued driving, the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence, but Steve’s thoughts remained on Y/N. The memories, the regrets—they all mingled together, creating a complex web of emotions he couldn’t easily untangle.

Finally, Natasha broke the silence with a teasing jab. "So, if she’s alive? Are you going to apologize first or let her throw the first punch?"

Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Knowing her, even with old age, she’d probably punch me first."

Natasha grinned, glad to see a bit of the tension lift. "Well, just remember—if you need a wingman, I’m here. But you’re on your own with the punching part."

× × × ×

The atmosphere was thick with tension as Alexander Pierce, the Secretary of HYDRA, stood before the Winter Soldier, his expression a mask of cold displeasure. Bucky stood at attention, his face impassive.

Pierce’s voice was low, laced with barely concealed anger. “I asked you for a report, Soldier. Why didn’t you eliminate the target?”

Bucky remained silent, his gaze unfocused, as though he were looking through Pierce rather than at him. This slight defiance, whether intentional or not, only served to infuriate Pierce further. He raised his hand, intending to deliver a harsh blow to snap the Winter Soldier back into obedience.

But before his hand could connect, it was caught mid-air, gripped tightly by another—your hand. Your fingers squeezed Pierce’s wrist with a force that made him wince, the sound of bones grinding beneath your grip.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you said, your voice dangerously calm. The room seemed to grow colder as you stepped closer, your presence commanding the attention of everyone around you.

Pierce’s eyes flickered from stunned to anger as he looked down at the woman who dared to intervene. “You dare—”

“I dare,” you interrupted, your smirk widening as you tighten your grip, watching with satisfaction as Pierce’s face contorted in pain. “Remember who you’re dealing with, Pierce. The Winter Soldier is valuable, yes, but don’t forget who has the real power here.”

The room held its breath as Pierce glared at you, his anger simmering. His attempt to maintain control was slipping, and you could see it in his eyes—the fear, the uncertainty. But it wasn't enough. You wanted to remind him, and everyone else in the room, who actually had the power.

You pretended to release his wrist only to grab him by the throat, lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing. Pierce gasped, his hands instinctively reaching up to claw at your grip, but it was futile. You held him there, suspended in the air, your eyes cold as you watched the panic rise in his eyes.

Around you, HYDRA operatives tensed, their hands moving toward their weapons. The sound of guns being cocked filled the air, and your ears caught it immediately. Instead of flinching or backing down, a low, rumbling chuckle escaped your lips, starting deep in your chest. Your laugh began to rise. It was a sound that started soft, almost like a private joke shared with yourself, but it quickly grew louder, filling the room with a sinister, echoing resonance.

It wasn’t just a laugh; it was a declaration. A reminder of just how dangerous you were. The agents hesitated, their fingers hovering uncertainty over the triggers. They knew what that laugh meant. That you're a woman not to be trifled with—this was a predator, toying with her prey.

As your laughter crescendoed, it took on a twisted, almost gleeful quality, as though you were genuinely delighted by the absurdity of the moment.

“Guns? Really?” you said, your voice dripping with mockery. “Go ahead, pull the trigger. Let’s see who’s faster.”

There was a pause, a moment where time seemed to stand still as the agents exchanged nervous glances. None of them dared to act, not with the lethal reputation you had earned within HYDRA.

Just as the tension reached its peak, your hand moved in a blur. Before anyone could react, you drew a dagger from your side and hurled it with deadly precision. The blade found its mark, embedding itself deep into the skull of one of the agents who had been foolish enough to aim his gun at you. The agent crumpled to the ground, dead before he hit the floor.

The remaining operatives stared in shock, their fingers frozen on the triggers, the reality of the situation crashing down on them like a ton of bricks. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by your voice, now cold and taunting.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, your tone mocking as you glanced at the other agents. “I thought you were going to shoot me?”

No one moved. The fear in the room was heavy, each agent knowing that a single wrong move would mean their death. They were outmatched, outclassed, and they knew it.

You turned your attention back to Pierce, who was still struggling in your grip. His face had gone red, his eyes wide with fear as he realized the precariousness of his situation.

"You think you're in control here, Pierce?" you asked, your voice low and menacing. "You think you can order us around like one of your lackeys? Let me make this clear—I'm not just a weapon you can point and shoot. I'm the one who decides where the bullets land."

With a flick of your wrist, you threw him across the room, watching as he crashed into a table, sending papers and files scattering to the floor. Pierce groaned in pain, clutching his throat as he struggled to regain his breath and composure. But the fear in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Pierce’s expression darkened, but he knew when to back down. He rubbed his neck with a grimace. “You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, he's still actually talking?

“I don’t think, Pierce. I know.”

For a brief moment, your eyes locked, a silent battle of wills. But in the end, it was Pierce who looked away. He knew better than to push you further.

You turned your attention back to Bucky, your expression softening ever so slightly as you reached out and gently caressed his face. The touch was light, almost tender, and as you did so, a name slipped from your lips in a whisper, one that seemed to stir something deep within Bucky.

“Bucky…”

For a moment, Bucky’s eyes focused, the faintest glimmer of recognition flashing across his face. But it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had appeared, and his expression returned to the blank slate that HYDRA had molded him into.

You let your hand fall away, a hint of sadness in your eyes before you masked it with your usual cold demeanor. You turned back to Pierce, your smirk returning.

“Remember your place, Mr. Secretary. For someone using us as a tool to make ends meet, I expect a little more. . . respect.”

With that, you turned on your heel, motioning for Bucky to follow you. He did so without hesitation, leaving Pierce and the operatives standing in stunned silence.

You and Bucky reached the door, then you paused, turning back to Pierce with a final, icy smile. “And as for Rogers… I’ll deal with him personally.”

Pierce’s eyes narrowed, his anger barely contained, but he said nothing as you and the Winter Soldier disappeared through the door.

When the door closed behind you, Pierce’s anger boiled over, but he knew he had to tread carefully. You were not someone to be crossed lightly, and if he wanted to keep control of HYDRA’s greatest assets, he would need to play his cards right.

But the look in your eyes, the way you had protected the Winter Soldier—it left him with an uneasy feeling. There was more to you than met the eye, and Pierce couldn’t shake the feeling that you were a force that even HYDRA might not be able to contain.

× × × ×

The sound of his powerful thrusts filled the room, each one accompanied by a wet, sensual sound as your pussy eagerly welcomed him inside. With every thrust his grip on your hip tightens, his metallic hand will leave a bruise but you don’t care.

His other hand closed around your throat too roughly, pressing the hardened ridges of the larynx against the epiglottis. A spasm in his fingers was all the warning you received before they clamped down, forcing more pressure.

“Yes, just like that.” you moaned wantonly, you whimpered as everything tightened, the sweet tension built from the deep rhythmic strokes. You were gasping and frantic, pumping your hips. Reaching between your legs, you rubbed your clit with the pads of your fingers, trying to hasten your climax.

“Not so tough now, huh?” The winter soldier growls, his voice filled with desire and urgency. His thrusts grew more intense, his voice becoming more primal. "You want it harder?" he asked, his voice dripping with seduction.

You could only manage a desperate nod as the pleasure intensified. The wet, rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding filled the room, mixing with your moans of pleasure.

Bucky's grip on your neck loosened, allowing a cold rush of air to fill your burning lungs. But there was no time to recover—before you could catch your breath, he swiftly flipped you over, his arm coiling around your waist as he hauled you up on your knees.

SMACK!

He slapped your ass so hard you had a hard time suppressing a shriek. Bucky's hand tangled in your hair once more, yanking your head back until it was level with his. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he hovered menacingly behind you.

"Don't you feel like a slut, in here with me, getting fucked, while those morons think you’re indestructible?”

SMACK!

"Answer me!" he growls, smacking you more in between, his grip on your hair tightened, it's beginning to hurt your scalp.

"Yes," you moaned, so turned on that you could have come at any moment.

"Yes what?” he says through his gritted teeth, smacking you harder that it echoes in the room.

“Yes I feel like a slut.” you choked out with a smile on your lips.

“Good. You're going to come all over this dick, saying my name, yes?” he said, slapping your clit with his cock. With your thighs spread wide, the tip of his cock presses your entrance. The smooth head slides between your folds and rubs against your clit, intensifying your arousal.

“Yes.” You moan, your head arching back, and he slowly enters you, penetrating you inch by slow inch.

You gasp as he goes deeper, filling you again with his thickness. It feels good, so unbelievably good, and you moan again, tightening your inner muscles around his shaft. He groans, closing his eyes, and you do it again, wanting more of the sensation.

He begins to rock back and forth, causing his shaft to move within you ever so slightly, sending waves of heat throughout your body. However, each movement also serves as a reminder of the earlier beating, and a pained moan escapes your throat as your sore buttocks rub against his hard thighs.

He devours you with his kiss, swallowing your whimpers, his mouth now consuming yours with unrestrained hunger.

His hips rocking harder, adding to the pressure building within your core, "You like that, don't you?" he growled.

"Mmmm." you could only moan in response, lost in the pleasure that consumed you. Your own fingers assaulting your clit trying to match his rhythm.

Yanking your hips to meet his powerful thrusts, Bucky battered your tender sex with that brutally thick column of rigid flesh, his gaze dark and possessive, his breath leaving him in primitive grunts every time he hit your cervix. A trembling moan left you, the friction of his drives stirring your never-sated need to be fucked senseless by him.

Long strokes. Pounding, pile driving impacts. Your pussy was so wet there was hardly any friction in or out, just the brutal slapping as he jackhammered you pussy remorselessly. Not fucking. Mating. Breeding.

His other hand moves down your body, his hand spreading your wetness through your stretched slit before pressing his fingers moving small circular motions to gripping your clit between his thumb and index finger.

“J-James—O-h-h, F-u-c-k” you muttered in a broken moan as you flew apart.

Your orgasm is so strong, you can’t even make a sound. For a few blissful seconds, you're completely swamped by pleasure, by ecstasy so intense that it’s almost agonizing. Your body shudders uncontrollably under his body, your muscles clamping down his cock tightly, while your hips gyrate as his cock continues to pound you. Your movements trigger his own release.

“I'm damn close—fuck, I'm coming.” The sensation of you milking his cock is indescribable, the pleasure sharp and electric. It zings through him, hurling him in to reach his peak. Groaning harshly, he grinds his pelvis against you, “Oh I'm coming.”

“Yes! Fill me up—give it to me inside.”

Muscles rippled and bulged along his shoulders and quads as he leaned forward, grinding every millimeter of thickness and length into you. A rough, guttural growl rumbled through your bones. Jet after jet of hot, potent cum deluged your ravaged, desperately spasming walls.

“Ready for more?” he whispers in your ear, his cock barely softening within you. He kisses your earlobe, and the tender gesture is such a contrast to what he’d just done that you feel disoriented. That wasn't normal winter soldier behavior.

× × × ×

You sat straddling Bucky on the leather couch, your breathing still heavy from fucking three times in a row. You began to move away, Bucky’s hands, which had been resting on your hips, suddenly tightened their grip.

You felt the change before you saw it—It was subtle at first, the flicker in his eyes, the way his breath hitched as his gaze became focused, sharp. But there was something else too, something far away in his stare, as if he were trying to grasp onto a memory just out of reach.

"The man at the bridge, who was he?" Bucky's voice was low, but it carried a weight that made you pause.

You had seen these moments of clarity before, rare glimpses of the man he used to be before HYDRA twisted his mind. They never lasted long, a fleeting reminder of the person buried beneath the Winter Soldier’s conditioning. You knew what HYDRA expected of you—what Pierce demanded—but as you looked into Bucky’s eyes, your best friend from a time long past, so lost and vulnerable, you hesitated.

“You met him this week on another assignment.” you replied, trying to keep your voice detached.

“I knew him.” His voice was stronger this time, he was certain.

“Look, Pierce is gonna want us to push it tomorrow—” You shifted slightly, trying to pull away from him, but Bucky’s forced you down on his lap, keeping you in place.

“But I knew him.”

You sighed deeply, frustrated. Grabbing his face roughly, you forced him to look at you, your fingers digging into his skin. "Listen to me, whatever is going on in your head, I need you to put it aside. If Pierce finds out about this, he's going to put you through electroshock to reset you, and I can’t let that happen.”

Bucky’s eyes bore into yours, searching for something, anything, that made sense. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You released your grip on his face, your fingers trailing through his hair as you brushed his brown locks out of the way. "Old sentiments," you muttered, the words bitter on your tongue.

But even as you said it, you knew it was a lie, a half-truth.

It wasn’t just sentiment, though, was it? It was the guilt, the buried rage at everything HYDRA had turned you into. You hated Pierce, despised SHIELD, and the mere thought of Steve brought a twisted knot of anger and betrayal to your chest. But Bucky—Bucky didn’t deserve this. Not after everything he’d been through, not after being twisted into something unrecognizable by the same people who had destroyed your life.

You weren’t doing this because you were good. You weren’t a hero. You were still the same girl driven by anger and resentment toward the world. But Bucky, he was the only piece of your past that still mattered, the only thing left that was worth saving.

And so, as you looked into his confused, lost eyes, you made a silent promise. You would free him from this nightmare, only because he was your friend.

“Just trust me,” you whispered, your voice softer now. “In due time, you will get the answers you want to hear.”

Bucky’s eyes searched yours, as if trying to gauge the sincerity in your words. Slowly, he nodded, though the uncertainty still lingered in his gaze, “I trust you.”

The fragments of his past flickered like dying embers in the recesses of his mind. He couldn't fully grasp who he was before HYDRA, couldn't make sense of the flashes of memory that haunted him in the rare moments of clarity. But there was something about you—something that tugged at his very soul, making him feel connected in a way that defied explanation.

He was a weapon, a tool shaped and controlled by forces he barely understood, yet whenever he looked at you, something within him stirred. It wasn’t just the physical attraction—though that was undeniable—but something deeper, something that made him feel almost human again. His heart remembered you, even when his mind could not.

Why did he feel so drawn to you, so protective, so...fond? It didn’t make sense. He didn’t have memories of you, no context for these emotions, yet they were there, strong and insistent. He was the Winter Soldier—cold, detached, and efficient—but around you, those walls seemed to crack, letting in warmth he didn’t understand.

His hands trailed up the small of your back and he found himself leaning in, compelled by a force he couldn’t resist. His lips found yours, and the kiss that followed was as much a search for answers as it was an expression of the remnants of love he has for you. He felt the warmth of your skin, the softness of your lips, and momentarily, it all made sense.

× × × ×

The streets were slick with rain, the neon lights of the city reflected off the wet pavement as Steve, Natasha, and Sam moved through the shadows. The mission was simple—take down the HYDRA operatives before they could unleash chaos. But nothing about this night was going according to plan.

A sudden blur of movement caught Steve’s attention, and he spun around just in time to raise his shield, blocking a powerful kick aimed at his head. The impact reverberated through the vibranium, the sheer force behind the blow surprising him. Whoever this was, they were no ordinary agent.

His attacker wore black from head to toe, a tactical mask obscuring your face, a hood pulled low over your eyes. Steve couldn’t see your face, but he could tell from the fluidity of their movements that you were highly trained—possibly even on par with him.

Without giving him a moment’s rest, you launched into a series of rapid strikes. Steve’s body reacted on instinct, parrying and blocking with precision honed from years of combat. But the ferocity and speed of the attacks were relentless, forcing him back step by step.

The fight was a brutal dance of skill and power. You used every inch of the narrow alley to your advantage, bouncing off walls, using the slippery ground to slide under Steve’s defenses, and striking at vulnerable points with deadly accuracy. Steve swung his shield in a wide arc, aiming to knock his opponent off balance, but then you ducked under it effortlessly, coming up with a knee strike that connected solidly with his midsection.

Steve grunted, the air forced from his lungs as he staggered back, but he quickly recovered, slamming his shield forward to create some distance between you. You leaped back with cat-like agility, landing silently several feet away. For a brief moment, you paused, tilting your head as if assessing him, before darting forward again with even more speed.

“Who the hell are you?” Steve growled, his voice low and filled with frustration as he swung his shield to intercept the incoming attack.

You didn’t respond, merely twisting your body mid-air, narrowly avoiding the shield before delivering a roundhouse kick aimed at Steve’s head. He barely had time to duck, feeling the rush of air as the boot sailed over his head.

In response, Steve drove his shoulder into your midsection, attempting to drive you into the wall, but you twisted your body, using the momentum to flip over him and deliver a brutal elbow strike to the back of his head. Steve stumbled forward, momentarily disoriented, but he quickly spun around, his shield raised defensively.

You advanced again, this time producing a pair of combat knives from your belt. The glint of the blades under the streetlights was enough to make Steve’s grip on his shield tighten.

“Knives, really?” Steve muttered, more to himself than to his opponent. He had faced down armies with just his fists, but this fight felt different—more personal, more dangerous.

You didn’t waste time with a response, instead rushing forward with both blades aimed at his vital points. Steve deflected the first strike with his shield, twisting his body to avoid the second, but you were relentless. You pressed the attack, slashing and stabbing with surgical precision, each strike aimed to cripple or kill.

Steve retaliated with a powerful swing of his shield, the force behind it enough to send most opponents flying, but you anticipated the move. You ducked low, sweeping your legs out to knock Steve off his feet. Steve managed to stay upright, but the move forced him to lose his balance, and you took advantage, driving one of the knives toward his chest.

In a split-second reaction, Steve angled his shield to deflect the blade, but the impact sent vibrations up his arm, nearly causing him to drop it. You didn’t let up, following up with a swift knee strike to his ribs, the force of it knocking the wind out of him.

Breathing heavily, Steve tried to reassess the situation. This was no ordinary operative—this was someone who had been trained specifically to counter him. And you were good. Too good.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Steve growled, pushing forward with renewed determination.

He swung his shield with all his might, aiming to knock you off balance, but you were ready. You caught the edge of the shield with both hands, the impact skidding you back several feet, your boots screeching against the wet pavement. With a grunt, you twirled in the air, using the momentum to hurl the shield back at Steve.

Steve barely had time to react, catching the shield just before it collided with his face. But the force behind it was immense, pushing him back a few steps.

Before he could press his advantage, you were on him again, this time using a combination of grappling techniques and martial arts to try and subdue him. You were quick, switching between jabs, hooks, and submission holds with fluid precision. At one point, you managed to lock Steve’s arm behind his back, twisting it at a painful angle as you tried to force him to the ground.

Steve gritted his teeth against the pain, refusing to go down. He planted his feet firmly and used his strength to break the hold, swinging his elbow back to catch the figure in the side. The blow connected, but you barely flinched, countering with a vicious headbutt that left Steve momentarily dazed.

You went for another knife strike, this time aiming for his throat. Steve caught your wrist mid-strike, twisting it with enough force to make you drop the knife. But instead of recoiling in pain, you used the momentum to flip Steve over your shoulder, slamming him into the ground with a force that left him gasping.

He struggled to get up, his vision swimming from the impact. You stood over him, a boot pressing down on his chest, pinning him in place. In a move born of desperation, Steve reached up, grabbing the edge of your mask and tearing it off.

Time seemed to slow as the mask came away, revealing the face beneath. Steve’s breath caught in his throat.

It was you, all along.

The world came to a stop as he stared up at you, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. You—alive, but different. Your eyes, once filled with warmth and love, were now cold and distant, filled with a darkness he had never seen before.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice was barely a whisper, shock and disbelief flooding his features.

For a split second, your cold facade cracked, a flash of recognition and pain crossing your features. But it was gone as quickly as it came, your expression hardening once more. You took advantage of Steve’s shock, delivering a swift punch to his jaw that sent him reeling.

Before Steve could fully recover, you turned and sprinted toward the nearest exit, moving with a speed that left Steve struggling to keep up. He scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding as he chased after you, but by the time he reached the door, you were already gone, disappearing into the night like a ghost.

Steve stood in the doorway, his heart heavy with the realization that the woman he had once loved was now his enemy. The Y/N he knew was gone, replaced by someone hardened by pain and anger.

× × × ×

Steve stood frozen in the doorway, trying to make sense of what had just happened. You're alive—and he let you disappear into the night, leaving him with more questions than answers. Before he could fully process what he had seen, a familiar voice crackled through his earpiece.

“Cap, we’ve got a situation here,” Tony’s voice was tense, though laced with his usual sarcasm. “I’ve got a guest who’s a little too enthusiastic for my taste. Could use some backup.”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “Tony, who is it?”

“Not sure, but she’s got one hell of a right hook and a serious attitude problem,” Tony replied, the sound of metal clashing and blasts firing in the background. “And oh, did I mention she can jump like the Hulk?”

Steve’s eyes widened. He had a sinking feeling he knew exactly who Tony was dealing with. Without wasting another second, he took off in the direction of the commotion, his heart pounding in his chest.

Tony, clad in his Iron Man suit, was locked in a fierce aerial battle with you, who was now maskless and fully visible. Your face was set in grim determination as you leapt into the air, your powerful legs propelling you high enough to meet Tony’s flight path. Each of your strikes was calculated, aimed at the joints and weaker points of the suit.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy there, Wonder Woman!” Tony said, dodging a particularly brutal punch that nearly dented his chest plate. “I’m not a piñata, you know!”

Your expression remained cold as you twisted in midair, avoiding a repulsor blast and landing a solid kick against Tony’s side, sending him spiraling briefly before he regained control.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that!” Tony called out as he righted himself, flying in a tight circle around you before firing off another series of repulsor blasts. You dodged most of them with ease, but one caught you in the shoulder, causing you to grimace slightly. You recovered quickly, though, using the momentum to propel your back into the air, your fist aimed directly at Tony’s faceplate.

Tony barely had time to dodge, the blow glancing off his helmet with enough force to crack the HUD display.

“Okay, now you’re just being rude!” he said sarcastically, as he adjusted his flight path to put some distance between you.

You didn’t give him much room to breathe, though. With a powerful leap, you closed the gap between you, grabbing onto Tony’s arm and using your weight to pull him down. Both of you crashed into the ground with a thunderous impact, the pavement cracking beneath you. Tony groaned as he struggled to push you off, but your strength was overwhelming, even for the suit’s enhanced capabilities.

“Ever heard of personal space?” Tony grunted as he activated the suit’s thrusters, attempting to blast them both back into the air. You held on tightly, twisting his arm at an awkward angle that caused the servos in the suit to whine in protest.

“You talk too much,” You finally replied, your voice flat and cold as you released your grip on his arm and delivered a sharp kick to his midsection, sending him flying backward.

Tony recovered mid-flight, his repulsors flaring as he hovered a few feet off the ground, rubbing at the dent you'd left in his side.

“Yeah, well, it’s part of my charm,” he shot back, firing off another barrage of missiles in your direction.

You dodged with an almost effortless grace, leaping into the air once more and landing on top of a nearby building. You crouched low, your eyes locked on Tony as you prepared for the next move.

Tony hovered in place, watching you closely. “Seriously, what’s your deal? We just met, and you’re already throwing me around like a rag doll.”

Your expression didn’t change as you suddenly launched yourself off the building, your fist aimed directly at Tony’s chest. This time, though, you didn’t hold back. The impact was tremendous, sending Tony crashing through a parked car and skidding across the pavement.

Groaning, Tony pushed himself up, his HUD flickering from the damage. “Okay, that’s it. Playtime’s over.”

He activated the suit’s full power, repulsors blazing as he rocketed back toward you. The two of you clashed mid-air, exchanging blows at a speed and intensity that would have shattered ordinary opponents. But through it all, Tony couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren't giving it your all. There was a calculated precision in your strikes, as if you were testing him rather than trying to finish him off.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of trading hits, Tony managed to grab hold of your wrists, locking them in place with the suit’s enhanced grip. He lifted you off the ground, his repulsors ready to fire point-blank, “End of the line, lady. Let’s talk.”

You didn’t resist. Instead, you looked up at him with an unreadable expression, your body suddenly going limp.

“Fine,” you said, your voice eerily calm. “You win.”

Tony blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. “Wait, seriously? That’s it?”

You simply nodded, allowing yourself to be restrained by the suit’s mechanisms.

“Take me in,” you said, your voice devoid of emotion. “I’m not going to fight anymore.”

Tony frowned, his instincts telling him something wasn’t right, but he didn’t press the issue. “Alright, let’s get you somewhere safe and figure out what the hell is going on.”

As Tony started to descend, Steve finally arrived on the scene, his shield at the ready. He took in the sight of Tony holding you, your face calm despite the situation, and his heart sank.

Tony looked at Steve and couldn’t help but say, “Well, look who decided to show up. Don’t worry, I had everything under control—just took a brief break to contemplate my life choices while getting pummeled.”

Your lips twitched a small smile at his comment.

Steve caught his breath as he assessed the situation. “Better late than never, right?”

“Next time, maybe give me a heads-up when you’re gonna leave me to play the lone hero. Could’ve at least brought popcorn to watch the show.” Tony shook his head.

Steve stared at your face, his eyes taking in every detail, even rubbing his eyes to make sure this was real. Tony furrowed his brows at Steve and exchanged glances between the two of you.

“So,” Tony finally broke the silence, his tone shifting to something more serious, “are we bringing her in, or are we just gonna stand here and play the ‘who blinks first’?”

× × × ×

The soft hum of the Helicarrier's engines was the only sound as the team gathered around the large, circular table. A few faces were still unfamiliar with each other—Natasha, Clint, and Sam exchanged glances as they settled into their seats. Tony, leaning back casually, eyed Steve, who stood apart from the group, a heavy tension radiating from him. It was clear that something weighed heavily on the Captain’s mind, something that no one had dared to address yet.

In the center of the table, a holographic screen flickered to life, casting an eerie blue glow over the faces of the Avengers. Fury stood at the head of the table, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Listen up," Fury began, his voice commanding everyone's attention. "We've got a new player on the board, and she’s every bit as dangerous as the Winter Soldier."

With a tap of his finger, Fury brought up a series of video feeds on the screen, all showing various skirmishes involving HYDRA forces. But the common thread through each of these battles was a single figure: you.

The hologram shifted, showing footage of you in action, moving through a battlefield. Bullets ricocheted off you, seemingly ineffective as you advanced on your targets with single-minded precision. The final clip showed you taking down an entire squadron of soldiers without breaking a sweat, your movements efficient and deadly.

"Meet HYDRA's new secret weapon," Fury continued, his tone grim. "We don’t have a lot of intel on her, but what we do know isn’t good. She’s been operating under the radar, but make no mistake—she’s a force to be reckoned with. No hesitation, no mercy."

The profile flashed on the screen, sparse and incomplete:

Name: Unknown Age: Unknown Origin: Siberia

The room was silent as the team absorbed the information. Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she studied the footage, while Clint leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, deep in thought. Tony looked intrigued, his mind already racing with calculations and possibilities.

“She looks like she’s trained well. This isn’t someone who just stumbled into HYDRA’s ranks. She’s had years of experience.” Natasha commented before shifting her gaze to Fury.

“Years of brainwashing, you mean,” Tony added, his tone filled with dry sarcasm. “Another weaponized human for us to deal with. Just what we needed.”

Clint leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied your image. "She doesn’t look like she’s been held against her will. If anything, she seems... committed.”

Fury nodded, his expression steely. “Our priority is figuring out her next move, because that,” he pointed at your live footage in the cell sitting calmly, “is not the type to surrender easily.”

Steve remained silent throughout the briefing, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared at the image of you on the screen. Fury’s words were sinking in, each one a painful reminder of how far you had fallen.

"We’ve already got her in a secure cell," Fury continued, his tone brokering no argument. "But I don’t think she’s going to stay quiet for long. Our best bet is to find out everything we can about her—where she’s been, what HYDRA’s done to her—and see if we can get ahead of this. We’re playing catch-up, and we can’t afford to stay behind for long.”

“How do you know if she’s going to cooperate?” Clint asked.

"We don’t," Fury admitted, his tone grim. "But that’s why we’re not taking any chances. She's locked down tighter than Fort Knox, and we're monitoring her every move.”

Fury’s gaze shifted to Steve, who had remained silent, staring intently at the image of you in the cell. The tension in the room was palpable as everyone waited to see if Steve would speak.

Finally, Fury broke the silence, addressing the room at large. "We don’t know what HYDRA’s endgame is here, but we do know they’ve put a lot of resources into this. We can’t underestimate her, and we can’t assume she’s alone. There’s more going on here, and we need to be prepared for anything.”

The team just nodded in unison.

Fury’s gaze swept across the team before he asked the question that was on everyone’s mind. "So, who wants the privilege of talking to her?"

The room fell silent as everyone considered the gravity of the situation. Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly, her instincts telling her that this conversation would be more dangerous than any fight. Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the challenge, but before anyone could volunteer, Steve finally spoke up, his voice steady but laced with emotion.

"I’ll do it," Steve said, his gaze never leaving the screen.

Tony glanced at Steve, then back at the image on the screen, and with a smirk, he added, "Well, she made Cap make friends with the floor, so I’ll come with. Can’t let him have all the fun, right?”

Steve shot Tony a look, but there was a hint of gratitude in his eyes. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, and having Tony there might just make it a bit more bearable.

× × × ×

The interrogation room was cold, the walls made of reinforced steel, with a single table and three chairs bolted to the floor. The whole room was lit up, leaving no shadows around the room. You sat in one of the chairs, your hands cuffed securely in front of you, though the cuffs seemed more like a formality than a real deterrent.

Steve and Tony stood outside the observation window, looking in at you. Steve’s expression was tense, his eyes fixed on you, while Tony had a thoughtful look on his face, his usual humor subdued.

"You ready for this?" Tony asked, his voice unusually serious as he glanced at Steve.

Steve nodded, but there was a storm of emotions churning beneath his calm exterior. "Let’s get it over with."

They stepped into the room, the door closing behind them with a heavy thud. You didn’t look up as they entered, your gaze fixed on the table in front of you, as if you were lost in thought. But as they took their seats across from you, you slowly lifted your eyes, a faint, unreadable smile playing on your lips.

"Captain," you said, your voice cool and calm. "Mr. Stark."

“Hello Unknown—”

"Y/N," Steve replied, his tone heavy with the weight of your shared history.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up slightly at Steve’s use of your name, but he didn’t comment. Instead, his eyes flicked over to Steve with a look of mild surprise.

There was a moment of silence as the three of you sized each other up, the tension in the room palpable. Finally, Tony broke the silence, leaning back in his chair with a casual air that didn’t quite match the situation.

"So, Y/N," Tony began, quoting your name with his fingers, his tone conversational, almost friendly. "You know, I’m usually the one asking the questions, but let’s mix it up a bit. Why don’t you tell us why you decided to let us catch you?"

You raised an eyebrow at Tony’s question, your smile widening just a fraction. "Did I let you catch me? Or did you just get lucky?"

Tony smirked, twirling a fork he had slipped from the dining area between his fingers. "Oh, I don’t believe in luck. You’re too good to get caught by accident. So, what’s the plan? What’s HYDRA up to this time?"

"Wouldn’t you like to know?” You tilted your head slightly, considering your response.

Steve’s jaw clenched at your evasiveness, but he kept his voice steady as he spoke. "Y/N, we need to know what HYDRA’s planning. You can stop this. Whatever they’ve done to you, we can help."

Tony’s eyes shifted between you and Steve, the curiosity deepening. He still didn’t say anything about Steve using your name, but it was clear he had taken note of it.

You turned your gaze to Steve, staring daggers into him. "Help? Like you helped Bucky?" The question was pointed, sharp enough to draw blood.

Steve flinched, but he didn’t back down. “We’re trying to save you.”

“Save me?” You let out a small, bitter laugh. “You can’t even save yourselves.”

Tony cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. “Speaking of saving, I’ve been wondering about something.” He held up the fork, “Let’s try a little experiment.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in your eyes. "A fork? How quaint."

Tony grinned, twirling the fork between his fingers. "Well, I figured we’d see just how indestructible you really are."

Before Steve could protest, Tony reached across the table and pressed the fork against your forearm, applying pressure as if to test your skin. You didn’t flinch or move, simply watching him with an amused expression.

The fork bent under the pressure, the metal warping against your skin as if it were nothing more than a cheap plastic utensil. Tony released it, letting the mangled fork drop to the table with a clatter.

"Well, that’s definitely not normal.” Tony glanced at the bent fork, then back at you, his surprise quickly masked by his usual bravado.

"Satisfied?” You looked down at the fork, then back up at Tony, your eyebrows raised in a silent, almost mocking challenge.

Tony leaned back in his chair, clearly impressed, though he tried to hide it. "Well, I’ve seen weirder, but that’s up there."

Steve, who had been watching the exchange with frustration, finally spoke up. "Y/N, you don’t have to do this. Whatever HYDRA’s done to you, whatever they’ve made you believe, it doesn’t have to be this way."

You leaned forward slightly, your expression hardening. "Steve, you’re still so naive. This world doesn’t care about heroes or villains. It’s about power, control. And HYDRA... they understand that better than anyone."

Tony frowned, leaning forward as well. "So what’s your endgame? What do you get out of all this?"

You looked between the two of them, your smile fading as you considered the question. "Endgame? You really think it’s that simple? I’m just a piece on the board, Stark. The difference is, I know it."

Tony shook his head with a smirk. "You know, it’s a real shame you’re a total piece of shit because we would have made great friends. No offense, Cap." Tony lightly patted Steve on the shoulder.

You chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, trust me, Stark, it wouldn’t have worked out. I don’t play well with others."

“Yeah, I'm getting that vibe,” Tony chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “But let’s get back to you, I will ask again and you answer. What’s your deal? Why’d you let us catch you? Was it my charm? Steve’s good looks? Or were you just bored of winning?"

You leaned back in your chair, considering his words. "Let’s just say I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. You know, see if the Avengers are really as impressive as they say."

Tony leaned in, his grin widening. "And? What’s the verdict?"

You shrugged, your tone nonchalant. "You’re not bad. But I was expecting more... fireworks."

"Fireworks, huh?" Tony glanced at Steve with a smirk. "See, Cap? She’s got a sense of humor. Maybe we can work something out. Maybe you and I can grab a drink later, talk about how we both have a thing for breaking stuff.”

You shrugged, your expression indifferent. “Maybe in another life, Stark. But this one? Not a chance.”

“You’re more than just a piece on the board, Y/N. You always have been.” Steve’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his voice gentle but firm.

For the first time since the interrogation began, you seemed to hesitate, something flickering in your eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold, detached mask you had worn since they had captured you.

"Believe what you want, Steve," you said quietly, leaning back in your chair. "But that doesn’t change anything."

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, this is getting us nowhere. We’ll be back, Y/N. And next time, maybe you’ll be in a more talkative mood."

You didn’t respond, simply watching as Tony and Steve stood up, the door to the interrogation room sliding open with a soft hiss. A small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Just as they reached the door, you spoke up, your voice smooth and casual, but with an undercurrent of something darker.

“You might want to keep your friends close,” you murmured, your words barely louder than a whisper but sharp enough to cut through the air, “and your enemies... even closer. Not everyone at the top plays the game fairly.”

Steve paused, his hand on the door, glancing back at you.

Tony turned slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony asked, frowning.

You just shrugged, your smile widening as if you were in on a joke they hadn’t figured out yet. “Just a piece of friendly advice. Sometimes the rot starts from within, and by the time you notice, it’s already spread too deep. But hey, what do I know?”

Steve exchanged a quick glance with Tony, the unspoken concern evident between them. But they knew better than to press you further—this was exactly the kind of mind game HYDRA would want you to play.

“Come on, let’s go,” Steve said, his voice tight as he opened the door.

Without another word, Steve turned and exited the room, Tony following close behind.

As the door shut behind them, you could still hear Tony muttering to Steve, “You think she’s just messing with us, or should we actually be worried?”

Steve’s silence was telling—whatever you meant, it had left him unsettled, and the cryptic warning echoed in his mind, feeding a growing sense of unease.

× × × ×

Flashback: Brooklyn, 1941

The night air was crisp, the sky above a sprawling canvas of twinkling stars that seemed to stretch on forever. You and Steve lay side by side on a worn-out blanket, nestled together on the rooftop of your apartment in Brooklyn. The city’s usual noise felt distant, like a faint echo, leaving only the serene hush of the night and the rhythmic beating of your hearts.

Steve’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he gazed up at the stars. “You ever think about what’s out there?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “What does it all mean?”

You turned your head to look at him, your face illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. “Sometimes,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. “But mostly, I think about what’s right here. Right now.”

“Well, if you’re not thinking about aliens or flying cars, I guess you’ve got your priorities straight.” Steve chuckled, the sound low and warm, and you felt it reverberate through the quiet night.

You nudged him playfully with your shoulder. “And what about you, Rogers? Are you spending all your time up here daydreaming about little green men?”

Steve grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Maybe,” he teased. “Or maybe I’m just trying to figure out how I ended up here with the prettiest girl in Brooklyn.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest at his words. “Flattery will get you everywhere, soldier.”

“I’m counting on it,” Steve said with a wink, and you both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the rustling of the breeze.

After a moment, the laughter faded, replaced by a comfortable silence. Steve turned onto his side so he could face you fully, his expression softening as he reached out to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering as he tucked it behind your ear.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice suddenly more serious. “I know I’m not the strongest or the fastest... and I know I don’t have much to offer, but... I want you to know something.”

You squeezed his hand gently, encouraging him to continue. “What is it, Steve?”

He took a deep breath, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as he spoke. “I care about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And I promise you, no matter what happens... I’ll protect you. I’ll stand by you. I’ll take care of you, always.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest as you looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his sincerity.

“Steve,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “You don’t have to be anything more than who you are. That’s more than enough for me.”

Steve smiled, a mixture of relief and affection in his eyes. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, squeezing his hand again. “But just so you know, I’m pretty good at taking care of myself too. So maybe we can take care of each other?”

Steve’s smile widened, and he nodded. “Deal.”

With a playful grin, you held up your pinky finger. “Pinky promise?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, amused. “Pinky promise? Are we twelve?”

You smirked, undeterred. “Just humor me, Rogers.”

Steve chuckled and linked his pinky with yours. “Alright, pinky promise.”

You both shook on it, the moment feeling almost sacred in its simplicity. When your hands released, you shifted closer, resting your head on Steve’s chest as his arm wrapped securely around you. The warmth of his embrace made you feel safe, as if nothing in the world could touch you as long as you were together.

“You know,” Steve said after a few moments of comfortable silence, “I’m pretty sure pinky promises are unbreakable.”

You grinned, your eyes still fixed on the stars above. “That’s the idea.”

Steve pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his voice barely more than a breath. “I’ll never break it. I promise.”

For a while, neither of you spoke, the only sound was the soft rustling of the night breeze and the steady beat of Steve’s heart beneath your ear. The world below faded into nothingness, leaving just the two of you under the vast expanse of the starry sky, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence.

In that moment, everything felt right. The future, with all its uncertainties, seemed far away. All that mattered was the here and now, and the love you shared under the Brooklyn sky.

Present Day

Steve stood alone in the observation room, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. His thoughts were consumed by the memory you shared together, of the promises he had made and the promises he had failed to keep.

With a heavy sigh, he reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out a small, worn photograph. The edges were frayed from years of handling, and the image itself had started to fade, but it was still clear enough to see your smiling face. It was a picture taken long ago, back when things were simpler, back when the world hadn’t yet taken its toll on either of you.

In the photograph, you were laughing, your eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that had always made his heart skip a beat. You were leaning into him, and he had his arm around your shoulders, both of you looking so carefree, so happy. It was a moment frozen in time, a snapshot of a life that felt like it belonged to someone else now.

Steve’s thumb brushed over the image of your face, and he felt a lump rise in his throat. This photo had been his lifeline during the war, and later, in the years after he was thawed out, it had been his constant reminder of what he had lost.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at the picture. He couldn’t reconcile the person in this photograph with the one he had fought against. It was like looking at two different people—one filled with love and warmth, and the other filled with anger and pain.

He clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself from breaking down. He couldn’t afford to lose control, not now, not when everything was on the line. But the pain was too much, the guilt too overwhelming. He had kept this photo with him through everything, as a reminder of what he was fighting for, of the life he wanted to get back to. But now, it only served as a cruel reminder of what he had failed to protect.

Steve sank into a nearby chair, his head bowed as he continued to stare at the photograph. The tears he had tried to hold back slipped down his cheeks, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away. All he could do was sit there, lost in his grief, mourning the girl he had loved and the girl he had lost, even though you were still alive.

The photograph trembled in his hands as he struggled to hold onto it, to hold onto the memory of who you had been. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of what you had become. It haunted him, tearing at his heart, filling him with a despair so deep he wasn’t sure he could ever claw his way out.

× × × ×

0145 HRS

Steve walked back into the cell, the harsh fluorescent lights now turned on, casting cold, unyielding shadows on the walls. You were exactly where he and Tony had left you, your posture calm, almost unnervingly so. Your cuffed wrist rested on the table, fingers lightly drumming a rhythm that matched the distant hum of the Helicarrier’s engines.

Steve sat across from you, the silence between you stretching out like a chasm. The harsh fluorescent lights above cast unforgiving shadows on your face, but your expression remained indifferent, almost bored. You leaned back in the metal chair and watched Steve with a look that could only be described as disdainful amusement.

“So,” you drawled, breaking the silence with a voice dripping in mockery, “The great Captain America finally graces me with his presence. I must say, I’m flattered. Though, I’m starting to think you only come around when your self-righteousness needs a little top-up.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. He simply stared at you, his blue eyes searching for something—anything—familiar in your expression. But the person he had known, the person he had loved, was buried deep beneath the venom you now spewed.

“You’ve changed,” Steve said quietly.

You laughed, a cold, bitter sound that echoed in the small room. “Changed? Oh, you have no idea, Rogers. But then again, you were never very good at noticing the little details, were you? Too busy playing the hero, too busy saving the world to see the knife twisting in my back. Or was it your shield?”

“Y/N…” Steve began, his tone pleading, but you cut him off with a sharp, derisive laugh.

“Save it,” you snapped, your eyes narrowing with malice. “You’re not here to save me, Steve. You’re here to soothe your guilty conscience. But don’t worry, I’ll make this easy for you—there’s nothing left to save. I’m not your little damsel in distress, waiting for her knight in shining spandex to swoop in and make everything better.”

Steve flinched at your words, the pain in his chest growing sharper with every vile sentence that left your lips. "I never saw you as someone who needed saving," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You were always strong, Y/N. You didn’t need me to be a hero for you."

"Spare me the heartfelt bullshit, Steve," you sneered, leaning forward in your chair, your eyes blazing with animosity. "You wanted to be the hero because it made you feel good, made you feel important. But where were you when I needed you? Off playing soldier, marching to the beat of your outdated ideals while I was left to rot in the dirt."

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t give him the chance. You leaned back, your gaze cold and calculating, a twisted smile curling on your lips.

"You know," you continued, your tone almost conversational, "there’s something deeply satisfying about watching someone like you squirm. All that virtue, all that righteousness—it’s like watching a statue crumble. Beautiful, in a way. Don’t you think?"

Steve swallowed hard, his heart breaking as he listened to you tear into him with every word. But he didn’t waver. He couldn’t. "Y/N, whatever HYDRA did to you, we can fix it. We can help you."

"Help?" you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "The only thing you can do for me now is get out of my way. Or better yet, go crawl back into whatever hole you came out of and stay there. You’ve done enough damage as it is."

"HYDRA twisted you, made you into something you’re not," Steve insisted, his voice growing firmer. "This isn’t who you are."

Suddenly, your eyes flashed with a fierce intensity as you leaned forward, your voice rising, "You think you know me? You think you understand what I’ve been through !? What you put me through!?" Your hands clenched into fists as you stood up and with a surge of strength, the metal cuffs binding your wrists snapped in half, the sound echoing through the cell.

Steve instinctively went on the defensive, his hand hovering over the duress button. The sudden shift in his posture—the instinct to guard himself against you—didn’t go unnoticed.

For a moment, the room was filled with a tense silence, your breaths heavy, your eyes locked on Steve. Then, slowly, a dark, humorless laugh bubbled up from your throat, filling the space between you.

"See?" you said, your voice laced with bitterness and scorn. "You’re no different from the rest of them. The moment I show you my true strength, you recoil like I’m some kind of beast. Because that’s all you see, isn’t it? A serum-made monster.”

You plopped yourself back into the chair, pulling the metal cuffs off of your wrist like it was a piece of paper and tossed them on the table with a clatter.

Steve’s eyes widened, shocked when you mentioned serum. "Y/N, don’t do this. You don’t have to be this person."

You stared at him for a long moment, your expression hardening. “You’re right,” you said, nodding, “I don’t have to be this person. But I choose to be. Because this world doesn’t deserve anything better.”

Steve’s heart sank as he realized just how far you had fallen, how deep the hatred and anger ran in your veins. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Sorry?” you echoed, your tone mocking. “Sorry doesn’t fix anything, Steve. Sorry doesn’t undo the years of pain, the betrayal, the lies. Sorry is just a word, a meaningless sound that people like you throw around to make themselves feel better.”

Steve stood up slowly, his movements heavy with the weight of your words. “I promised I’d always protect you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not giving up on that promise.”

You rolled your eyes, a look of pure contempt on your face. “How noble. But I’m not the girl you promised to protect, Steve. She’s dead. And the person sitting in front of you doesn’t need your protection.”

Steve sat there, unable to move, as the weight of your words settled heavily on his shoulders. He had lost you, not just to HYDRA, but to the darkness that had taken root in your heart—a darkness that he had played a part in fostering.

“What do you want then?”

Your smile turned cold again, more sinister than before. "I want to watch this world burn. I want to see the so-called heroes fall, one by one. Starting with you."

With a heavy heart, Steve got up, seeing as there was no getting through to you. Steve’s expression hardened slightly, and as he turned to leave, he paused at the door, his hand resting on the cold metal handle.

Without looking back, he spoke, his voice steady, “A serum, huh? Thanks for the information.” with that the door closed behind Steve with a final, echoing thud.

The smile that had been twisted in mockery only moments before now faltered, the edges softening into something more conflicted.

You had let it slip.

You had revealed more than you intended—an error that was unlike you, and that fact alone gnawed at the edges of your mind. You had given Steve a piece of the puzzle, and that meant the game had changed.

Your lips curled back into a smirk, but it lacked the malice it once had. If Steve wanted to play the hero, to dig into the truth of what had happened to you, then let him try. Let him chase the shadows and secrets you had buried. But even as you tried to convince yourself that you still held the upper hand, the nagging doubt remained and it won't be leaving your head soon.

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zombie-eats-world · 1 year ago

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Crocodad Theory: The not-so-Crack-pot Theory.

Making this post in order to replace my old Crocodad thesis since I think I can do better now. Plus I was still using the old theory name then and I dislike seeing it pinned on my tumblr now. You can find that older post HERE if you desire to!

Crocodad theory, chances are you have heard about this theory if you are even slightly invested in the One Piece fandom. But despite its infamy, and outside its stanch believers like myself, it's mostly considered a crack theory and used for a laugh.

Now let's be clear, Crocodad theory is not a crack theory. A crack or crack-pot theory is more of a headcanon built on vibes, it's a fun idea made up out of thin air and isn't really serious. If the Crocodad theory was a crack theory it would have evaporated into the nether by now. It's over a decade old, after all, and yet it persists to this day! That is because the Crocodad theory has real evidence from the canon, the One Piece offshoots, and maybe even Oda himself.

If you weren't aware of the Crocodad theory, sometimes lovingly called Dadodile, let me summarize it very succinctly. The theory is that Crocodile is a transgender man and gave birth to Luffy. Crocodile is Luffy's other father and his birthing parent. If you think that sounds ridiculous or even hilarious, let me walk you through it because I assure you- that is intentional.

Let us begin where the theory began... Impel Down.

The possibility for this theory was born in 2009 with these panels:

The simple fact that Ivankov exists and that he knows Crocodile, from "when he was just starting out" mind you, makes this not only possible but probable.

What other "secret" could Ivakov be speaking of here? It's definitely not his weakness to water, that would just be bad storytelling. It could be that Crocodile is the child of Rocks which is possible considering we now know Ivankov was at the Gods Valley incident. But if I could speak as a writer for a moment, it would really be a waste for an author to introduce a character that can change genders and then bring back one of the first big villains like Crocodile, AND THEN connect the two with the mention of weakness but not make that secret that Crocodile had once been a woman. Or even at least a part of the reason.

But if that reasoning falls through for you, here is some in-canon evidence for the idea that Crocodile is transgender:

First of all, the agents' code names are so gendered: Every single digit agent is Mr with a Mrs, or Ms partner.

Crocodile’s name. His moniker is different from almost every other powerful pirate the story introduces to us. He isn’t just Desert King Crocodile, he is Desert King Sir Crocodile. Again it is oddly pronoun-centered. As if he is trying to remind people that he’s a guy.

The introduction of Bon Clay. Bon Clay is our first canon queer character in One Piece. He makes mention of being a girl many times and feels like a joke character when we first meet him. But as we know in One Piece, a pirate crew is a reflection of the Captain. Crocodile isn’t prejudiced to queer people like Bon Clay alludes to others being a few times. Crocodile even allowed Bon Clay to be both the male and female of his team!

Next up was the reveal of Baby Crocodile and how it’s deliberating ambiguous what gender Crocodile is. In every other Warlord's childhood look reveal, their gender is obvious, so why was Crocodile left out of that?

Then of course we have Gold Roger's execution, and how almost everyone got a reaction panel. But not Crocodile. No, we only see the back of his head. Oda has shown that he loves to get every single character's reaction to major events, sometimes to a fault. So why is he trying so hard to hide Crocodile from us? It just isn’t Oda’s style to leave someone out unless there is some kind of secret he wants to build up too. Now be sure to keep this in mind for later.

Last but certainly not least is just how much of an absolute troll Oda is. This will not be the last time I bring this up, Oda is a HUGE troll. He loves to play to his favorite fan theories and he decides most everything on how funny it is. And wouldn't it be funny if the first antagonist in the Grandline was secretly the birth parent of Luffy?

I mean just look at this! Oda, you absolute troll.

Bottom line: Trans Crocodile is more likely than not.

But this is where a lot of people decide the rest of this theory is crack, they take Trans!Crocodile and leave Crocodad out for reasons I honestly can't understand. Despite that, Cracodad has just as much if not more evidence than the Transgender part of this theory.

Before I begin I would like everyone reading to keep a few things in mind. All throughout the Impel down arc and the journey to Marineford, and even the first few chapters into Marineford, Crocodile could not have given a shit about Luffy, Ace, or the war at all. He did not care who won the war or if everyone involved died. He came to the battlefield for the sole purpose of killing Whitebeard. PERIOD. He was never once shown reacting with any concern when Luffy began facing down anyone strong. Not even Magellan. Crocodile had been around Luffy, seeing him do inspiring things for a massive amount of chapters by the time we get to Marineford, and yet Crocodile literally didn't care if Luffy lived or died, he just wanted to fight Whitebeard.

With that clear let's move on to what happened after Luffy's father was revealed to the world in Marineford. This moment is where the most obvious evidence first came about:

When Sengoku announces Luffy's father to the world we get many reaction shots, but once again Crocodile is conveniently missing from the lineup. He even disappears for a whole chapter! The young man who took down his decade-long plan to take over Alabasta just got announced to be the most wanted man in the world son, and we get no reaction from Crocodile... its suspicious.

Crocodile stopped Ace’s execution: Now Crocodile explains this by saying he ‘didn’t want to let Sengoku have the pleasure of victory’ but seriously? What kind of petty ass BS reasoning is that?! Crocodile has dreams and ambitions, and yet he gives up trying to be the one to take down Whitebeard to randomly save someone he canonly mocks in Impel Down? Someone he doesn’t care about. Some people will tell you it’s because Luffy inspired him like Luffy does many others, but what exactly is Luffy doing in Marineford that he didn’t in Impel Down or even Alabasta? Nothing. That means Crocodile has an entire about-face for no believable reason while completely off-screen. Which we've already said isn't Oda's style.

Daz and Crocodile face Mihawk to help Luffy: When Daz blocks Mihawk’s strike, Luffy questions it. Daz answers: It’s an order from above! That means Crocodile ordered Daz to specifically protect Luffy. Again, why? What reason did he have to do that? If this was some latent Crocodile has been inspired™️ moment, why wouldn’t Oda show it? Oda loves to hype up those moments, and loves to detail it all to the smallest piece. But Crocodile just randomly decided to have his main man Daz look out for this person that he COULDN’T HAVE GIVEN A CRAP ABOUT JUST TEN EPISODES BEFORE does not fit within the story. Then, right after Daz blocks Mihawk, Crocodile appears out of the woodwork to block another attack.

When Mihawk questions why he’d protect Luffy, Crocodile’s only response is “I’m not in the best mood now, Mihawk, you better watch yourself.” It’s interesting that he has no reason, none, he just comments that he’s in a shit mood. Maybe because he just found out he once stabbed his own child in the gut and left him to die?!

Crocodile vs Akainu: The brother killing Lava Man™️ is probably the most dangerous person in the war. He has no mercy, no morals, no restraint. So the fact that as Luffy is lying comatose and weak, with Jimbe slumped over him, Akainu about to deliver the final blow, Crocodile coming out of nowhere once again is so telling.

The fact is: Crocodile went above and beyond to save Luffy. That final stand against Akainu is so powerful. Crocodile doesn’t just save Luffy, he rushes to Luffy's aid, slicing through Akainu and reassembles to stand protectively between them. He did not need to do this at all. Oda didn’t need to have him do this either!

There were plenty of other characters that could have essentially done the same exact thing, but Oda chose to have Crocodile, someone who shouldn’t have been on Luffy’s side at all, save his life in the final moment.

Lastly, without a word, Crocodile uses Sables to get Luffy to Law’s ship. He risked his life, faced down the one person who could kill him without a second thought, and sweeps Luffy away to safety without any stated reason at all. In fact, everything he says is deliberately vague. Crocodile doesn’t believe in loyalty, he dumps people if they are weak (see; Alabasta Crocodile vs Luffy desert fight) so his line of “you gotta protect the one you wanna protect! Don’t let them have their way!” Feels so out of character. Crocodile has to have a reason for this odd behavior. And no, it doesn’t end there! In the defense of Luffy, Crocodile has an awesome and powerful moment where he stands in unity with all the Whitebeard commanders. HIS ENEMIES. Crocodile stands in unity with the people, he himself stated he hated more than anything, for Luffy!

These are the moments that alerted people to what would soon be called the Crocomom theory, now called Crocodad. But just because it began there doesn't mean there wasn't foreshadowing from before Marineford.

Let's go over all of that now:

First to talk about is once again Crocodile's crew. Miss Father's Day debuted in episode 124 of the anime and chapter 205 of the manga. She has a green amphibian theme to her, which is interesting because she is a woman with the moniker Father's Day while also having a theme of an animal that is famous for being able to change its gender. Her debut episode even has her introduced along with the reveal that Luffy's using his blood to fight Crocodile.

The next point is something Oda has never explained. Crocodile has strange relationships with children. From hiring a sixteen-year-old Miss Goldenweek, leaving her out of the Mr. 3 assassination order, and her history of actually sinking Crocodile's ships before getting hired, all the way to how Crocodile lectured Luffy in their fight. It just had the cadence of a parent. Not even Luffy's parent, just a parent. He lectures like someone who has experience with children.

Next, Luffy does not look like Dragon. That is a direct quote from Luffy in the manga. But you know who he does look like?

That's right! Luffy looks a lot like Crocodile. If you need more convincing on this, there is a great post by Dashevacotton that puts together many of the best canon pictures of Luffy dressed up like Crocodile. That post is here!

Crocodile and Luffy are incredibly similar. Not just in looks, but in personality, and in their general life.

These two have so much in common. From having a way with animals, to the amount of unadulterated loyalty they've inspired in their crews, all the way to the cadence of their speech.

Crocodile and Luffy even have a similarly goofy reaction to seeing the underground passage to the Alabasta Poneglyph.

Episode 123, episode time 13:16 Crocodile spots the entrance and laughs, "Ha, now I see secret stairs." Also in episode 123, episode time 20:47 Luffy looks around and spots the secret stairs. "That hole... it looks gator-ish."

Even what we know of Crocodile's backstory is that he had a rapid rise to fame just like Luffy by being a rookie who came in and beat down non-canon characters like Douglas Bullet to the shock of the world.

Next, let's bring up an earlier point: Oda-sensei is a mega troll.

This isn't exactly new information, Oda once deflected to bringing up a dick fight instead of answering if Zoro or Sanji was stronger. He is a Troll. He loves wordplay, and he likes to hint hint nudge nudge us all day long. Just look at Oda having Sanji call himself a prince in Alabasta as a joke, only to realize years later that he actually was a prince.

It's because of Oda's tendency to play around and make knowing jokes we've gotten some pretty compelling evidence for the Crocodad theory.

First would be the wordplay!

-Crocodile is closely linked to a Bananawani-> Monkeys like Banana -> Monkey D. Dragon is a reptilian Monkey attracted to Banana reptile. Fight me - A 'crocodile smile' is a term most often used to mean a fake or ingenuine smile. Crocodile's scar has been liked to look like a 'crocodile smile', which would mean Crocodile is the only character that always has a smile on his face. What a fun bit of wordplay to foreshadow the birth parent of Joyboy!

Then there is this SBS alongside the One Piece School spin-off manga by Sohei Koj.

What a great way to get out of revealing Luffy's parentage without actually revealing it!

And of course, we have the One Piece Mafia Theatre episode of the anime.

Oda would certainly make this canon just because of his troll tendencies. This is a hilarious theory because the story supports it yet only a fringe group believes in it. It's hilarious and therefore it's probably true.

Lastly, the symbolism makes this theory truly great.

I've already mentioned how Crocodile's scar being a 'crocodile smile' and thus giving him a permanent smile on his face would make him the most meaningful candidate for Luffy's birth parent. Joyboy, our Sun God Nika, was born from a man with a permanent fake smile; who is also named after an animal with the world's biggest smile.

It's just such a perfect setup, it makes my writer's heart swell.

Since Oda has stated a mother in One Piece would stop the adventure, it would fit that the first major villain in the Grandline to try and stop Luffy's adventure ended up being the man who gave birth to Luffy.

If we are going to speak of symbolism, I'd be remiss not to mention what a crocodile spiritually symbolizes. I really don't think I need to explain why adaptability, creation, ambiguity, and duality mean so much to this theory.

This theory could die or be confirmed any day now that we've entered a God's Valley flashback. I will love it either way but truly, honestly, I believe this. I hope I convinced a few of you to. If you are interested in the succinct list of Crocodad evidence that post is Here!

So in conclusion...

Crocodad is canon!

#one piece fandom #one piece #sir crocodile #anime #dadodile #monkey d luffy #fan theory #until the oda plops luffys mom in front of me i will believe this theory #theories #there is literally no other explanation for marineford without dadodile #luffy literally looks like crocodile #not a crack theory #long reads #long post

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

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Code of Conduct 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss has a difficult time keeping his personal life from bleeding into his work.

Characters: Steve Rogers, this reader is known as Rosie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

As you finish your salad, your mind is already back in the office. Mr. Rogers has a meeting at one with Mr. Stark and he can’t be late for his afternoon conference with a new client. You think to make a note for yourself but are interrupted by a sudden eruption.

You look up as Mrs. Rogers grabs your plate and flings it onto your lap. The vinaigrette oozes onto your dress before you can catch it.

“I knew it--”

“Honey,” Mr. Rogers blinks up as he sets down the crust of his roast beef sandwich, “you said you were busy.”

“Oh, busy!” She blusters and grips the edge of the table, shaking it, “I should’ve known--”

“Huh?” You pick the plate up off your lap and set it flat.

“You!” She jabs her index nail at you, the dangerous sharp point coming close to your nose, “I should’ve known it was you.” She snarls and hits the table with her fist. “How could you, Steve?”

“Honey? We’re just... having a business lunch--”

“Don’t honey me. Don’t lie. I’m done with it,” she snarls. “Why? Who on earth brings their assistant to a place like this for business? Her business is picking up your dry cleaning and bringing you coffee.”

“Mrs. Rogers--” You begin.

“If I were you,” she growls and pinches your ear, “I would be quiet.” You wince and pull away, rubbing your lobe as she retracts and put her wrath back to her husband. “I’m not stupid, late nights, always busy, too tired... I can’t believe I’ve wasted so much time.”

She flips his plate so it hits his chest and slides into his lap. He sits back, stunned, and doesn’t react. His wife stomps out as the other diners stare after the scene. You shrink down in mortification. You can’t believe that just happened. What must people think?

Rogers looks down, his blue eyes distance and grim, pointed at the table cloth. You swallow and grab your napkin to sop up the oily dressing from your clothing. It won’t do much. You stand and near your boss as he shakes his hand, his lips moving in silence.

“Mr. Rogers,” you coax, “are you okay?”

His eyes dart up and he blinks, “I... why would she think that?”

“Sir, things are tense. I’m sure it’ll be okay. She’s just... upset. You can talk it through.”

You take the plate out of his lap and he clears his throat, gathering up the bits of lettuce and crust and dropping them onto the porcelain. You offer him a napkin of his own and pick of a piece of romaine from his shirt. He sighs as he futilely mops up the caesar dressing.

“I don’t know what I did or what to do. Every night I get home and she accuses me,” he crumples up the napkin and his blue eyes meet yours, slowly drifting down to the oil stains on your dress. “I’m sorry she did that to you.”

“It’s just a dress,” you shrug.

“Hmm, how... how do you see the best in everything? In everyone?” He mopes.

“Sir, I don’t necessarily... I just... we’re all human and we’re doing our best. A little time and space and you both will be calmer.”

You hand him another napkin and you step back to deal with the mess on the table. The waitress returns and Steve quietly asks for the bill. You’re aware of the stares but do your best to ignore them.

“I don’t even know why she would assume... you and me,” he rambles as he digs out his wallet. “I... I only wish she could be as optimistic and kind.”

“Mr. Rogers, it’s a misunderstanding,” you assure him gently.

“Is it?” He puts his chin down and frown.

You pick up your purse as he pays. The waitress pretends there isn’t an elephant blowing its trunk right over her as the other tables chitter around you. You leave quickly, hoping to detach Rogers from the emotion and realign.

“Mr. Rogers, we’ll go back to the office and cool down. I’m sure by the time you finish work, she’ll be ready--”

“She hits me,” he says abruptly then chokes audibly. He puts his hand over his mouth and shakes his head. He huffs and drops his arm, “sorry, I shouldn’t tell you.”

You don’t know how to respond. It surprises you as much as it scares you, yet the tenderness in your ear convinces you. Peggy hasn’t shown anything but anger.

“That’s awful, I’m sorry--”

“I... she’s so small compared to me, I never really... I don’t know, it doesn’t really hurt, not on the outside but...” his voice trails off. “I’m so embarrassed that she did that. To you, of all people. Rosie, you’re like the nicest person I’ve ever known. Maybe that’s why I’m saying this to you. Maybe it’s why I’m finally seeing it...” he hangs his head as you walk down the pavement. “Next to you, most people can’t compare, but Peggy, my own wife...”

“Oh, sir, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“You can’t-- you don’t--” He sniffs and pushes his blond hair back. “Can I ask you for a favour?”

You stop and look at him as he slows. You face him as he does the same, “sure.”

“A hug?” He suggests, “I know it’s not... appropriate but I’m a little rattled.”

“Oh, sir,” you melt a little bit, “of course. I’m so sorry.”

You coo and open your arms. He embraces you without hesitation, squeezing you tighter than you expect as you run your hand across his broad back. You’re trapped in his arms, crushed by his intensity. He keeps hold of you even as you wriggle.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “I can’t remember the last time anyone’s hugged me.”

Your heart cracks just a little. You know it might be overly familiar but he can’t help what Peggy did. She quite literally dumped her marital woes in your lap. Well, she’ll have to clean it up. For the time being, you can only keep more from spilling over.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #au #bad bosses #code of conduct #drabble #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

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chaos0pikachu · 11 months ago

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okay so like be real the most evil and hilarious shit korn did was also one of the best cliffhangers of the show like

porsche is out here trying to find out what happened to his parents leaving his big dick man behind while Kinn and Pete watch Porsche's peach ass drive off with Vegas and Kinn is hearing Olivia Rodrigo's Traitor in his head while Pete is internally going "man I let the worst men taze my balls and eat my ass out" then like Porsche's uncle gets shot in the head john wick style or whatever and other plot stuff happens then porsche shows up at Mr Rogers house like "I know your a fake ass bitch fess up" and Korn is like haha what if I pull a Darth Vader instead and is like "Porsche, I am your Uncle" and Porsche is like FUCKING WHAT??? and the audience is like FUCKING QUEEEE??? and THAT'S HOW THE EPISODE ENDED for a whole ass week everyone was like lol they wouldn't....right? and they didn't but Korn really let Porsche believe he was fucking his own cousin all over the twunk mafia mansion making the cleaning staff work overtime every god damn day for months for an entire ass minute only to go "LOL JK she was my foster sister" and then the following week you find out he kept her ass in the attic for two decades flowers in the attic style

top-fucking-tier show

#kinnporsche #kinnporche the series #kpts #chaos pikachu speaks #pikachu's chaotic recaps

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holylulusworld · 2 months ago

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In time

Summary: He wants you to take another day off.

Pairing: Mafia!Steve Rogers x Librarian!Reader

Warnings: short reader, mafia au, size kink (Steve), fluff, implied/hinted future smut (oral fem rec)

Catch up here: Overdue

“Young lady, you won’t leave this room,” his stern voice booms through the room. You bet everyone in the house can hear him. “I’m warning you. Not a step closer to the door or I’ll have to punish you.”

You huff. “We have talked about this,” you stand your ground. “You cannot stop me from leaving. I must go to work.”

“No, you won’t!” He steps closer, his shadow looming over your smaller frame. He looks down at you, a smirk on his kissable lips. “It’s Friday, and you’ll take the day off.”

“They will fire me if I take another day off,” you sigh and shake your head. “You must accept that I’m an independent woman making her own money.”

He sighs too and cups your face. Steve dips his head to press a kiss to your temple.

“I know, and I love you for being a stubborn and cute librarian, doll. It’s just that I have a surprise for you, and I cannot wait until you come home from work.”

“Steve.” You’re close to giving in once again. “I can’t, you know that. My boss will fire me, I swear. Last time you made me close the library earlier, she threw a tantrum.”

“That old hag better shut her mouth,” Steve hisses. He doesn’t like the way your boss talks to you sometimes. “Let me talk to her. I bet I can convince her to let you take as many days off as you want to.”

“Steve, threatening to cut her tongue out is not the way to convince her,” you sass, knowing about Steve’s antipathy towards your boss. “Let me go to work, and I promise to be home on time.”

“Hmmm…” Steve thinks about your offer. He steps back, and you believe he’ll let you go. You are about to walk toward the walk-in wardrobe when he grabs you by the waist and easily lifts you. He throws you, once again, over his shoulder to carry you inside the bedroom.

“Steve, Stevie,” you giggle and laugh. “Steve, that’s not funny. You must let me down. Please, I can’t miss another day at work.”

“No can do, doll,” he chuckles darkly. “I have plans for today. Plans involving you and your cute ass. I cannot let you walk out of this house today.”

“Stevie!” You slap his ass. “I’m dead serious! Let me down. I mean it. Steve!”

“It’s so cute when you believe you are in charge.” He unceremoniously drops you onto the bed, laughing when you bounce off the mattress. “How about we play a game? If you win, I’ll let you go to work. If I win, you will stay at home.”

You kneel on the bed, watching Steve circle you like prey. “No cheating?”

“No cheating, doll.” He assures you. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes. Go ahead.” You can’t wait to hear what Steve came up with this time. “What kind of game are we going to play?”

He smirks, like the devil himself. Steve darts his tongue out to wet his lips.

“I thought of hiding my face between those legs. And if you cum before I tell you so, you’ll lose. If you’re good, and wait, you'll win.”

You smirk as you stare at his thick beard. Because, either way, you’ll win. “Deal, Mr. Rogers.”

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #mafia au #librarian reader #female reader #mobster!steve rogers

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antiquitea · 1 month ago

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I AM THREE DAYS OUT FROM THESE PHOTOS BEING TAKEN AND I STILL CAN'T QUITE BELIEVE THIS NIGHT HAPPENED.

(please do not repost my photos)

so!! i had the pleasure of seeing atta boy in toronto on october 22 and it was amazing in every conceivable way. they opened for richy mitch & the coal miners.

as i was waiting outside, i was mostly texting mr. megan; his work day had just ended so he was catching me up. i was first in the outside line (the venue is also a bar so there was a small inside line as well), so i was a couple of feet away from the security guard. i saw this guy walk up to them in the peripheral of my vision, but didn't think anything of it. just someone asking if it was the line for the gig or saying that they just wanted to get a beer.

the blue carhartt pants should've given it away.

i was so close to lewis that i could've reached out and touched him. and i definitely stood there for a moment just like 😲 as i watched him go inside the bar. he was wearing a blue cap, a red shirt, and of course those blue carhartt pants.

when i got into the horseshoe tavern i did the usual wandering i do at a gig. grabbed a beer, scoped out the stage, and checked out the merch table. atta boy merch wasn't being sold yet, so i was just having my beer and walking around.

and then ... i saw lewis sitting at the back of the venue in a booth by himself, having a beer and on his phone (like texting or something). there was a part of me that said "megan, don't bother him. he goes on in an hour and probably just wants to chill." but another part of me thought "if he doesn't want to be bothered or if the vibes are off you can just fuck off. no big. no hard feelings."

well!

i wandered over, and was midway through saying, "excuse me, lewis? could i bother you for a moment?" and he was already looking up at me and gesturing to the chair next to him. "yes, of course you can bother me!" he said.

(some paraphrasing is ultimately imminent)

i sat down next to him and said something along the lines of how i really loved and appreciated all of his art - his acting, his music - and thanked him so much for sharing that with us. i told him that i wasn't going to get into the details, but that the last year was really shitty for me and that his art helped me a lot, and brought me a lot of comfort. his face lit up and he said, "oh my god, that's so sweet. that's so kind. that's why i do this! thank you!"

then he asked me my name, and proceeded to keep saying it throughout our conversation (at one point i said "okay, you need to stop saying my name so much because you're giving me butterflies" and he laughed). he then asked if i "lived around here" and i told him that no, i lived in halifax.

"halifax? that's far!"

i told him that yes it was 😂 but that i really wanted to see his band, so i'd flown in earlier in the day, and that it was totally worth the trip! "it means so so much to me that you would travel all that way to come see us! really, that's so sweet! thank you!"

i asked if he would be cool taking a couple of selfies and he was already taking his cap off, and he said that it was absolutely cool! he mentioned that it was kinda dark so we might have to use flash. i told him that flash and i weren't great friends (i blink a lot and get pretty shiny), and he laughed. we got a couple of really good photos! (the first one up above).

i told him about my bestie @wildbornsiren, who wanted to be there so badly and couldn't make it, and asked if he would be cool saying hi to her? lewis said he was down with that, and we recorded a sweet little video for her where he said hi to her.

lewis then said to me, "you know, when i think of halifax i think of stan rogers." rogers was a popular folk artist from the area, and while he's a big name, i was kinda surprised that lewis knew who he was! not to flex, but based on his spotify playlists we have similar tastes in music so i shouldn't have been that shocked.

i said that i "fuckin' love stan rogers!" and we talked about him and his music for a little bit. after gushing over our mutual love of stan rogers, i said, "if you like stan rogers and his type of music, you should really check out joel plaskett. he's from the area too, plays music in a similar style as stan, super prolific - highly recommend!"

i had to spell joel's last name a couple of times for him (the bar was kinda loud), but he may or may not be a joel plaskett fan now, who's to say!

i thanked him again for taking the time to chat with me, and he shook my hand and said, "hey, if the selfies didn't turn out come find me after the show and we can take some more." to which i replied, "i will!"

then lewis added, "i really hope i can see you after the show!"

we parted ways, and i found my place in front of the stage, a little off to the side. the place was packed! i'd actually never heard of richy mitch & the coal miners until atta boy announced that they were touring with them, and i had no idea they were kind of a big name because the place was filling up fast!

atta boy's set was amazing! of course i wish it had been longer, but they played a bunch of my faves so i was absolutely thrilled by that. poor eden was just getting over a cold, so her voice was a little strained at times, but she still did fantastic! the rest of the crowd was absolutely in love with them. if they weren't fans before the gig, i'm pretty sure they left as such.

(i posted some photos of lewis specifically here)

after their set i went to the merch table that dashel was working and bought a hoodie. we chatted for a little bit, i told them that the set was fantastic and thanked them so much. they thanked me for coming and said that they hoped i had a great rest of my night. 😊

during richy mitch & the coal miners' set, i went up to the bar to get another drink, only to see the bartender already heineken for me haha! it's so nice to be seen. lewis was also at the bar, but like three or four people away from me. but he glanced over, saw me, came over, and said "hey megan!"

i am dying from glee. "hey lewis!"

he propped his arm against the bar and leaned against it, and asked, with this big fuckin' grin on his face, "what did you think of the set? was it worth coming out to toronto for?"

i am flabbergasted that a) this was happening, and b) that he genuinely seemed interested. i said, "oh my god it was so good. i enjoyed it so much. it was such an honour to see y'all live."

he told me that i was so sweet, and then asked, "how did the selfies turn out?"

i replied, "pretty good! i have t-rex kinda arms, so sometimes it's difficult for me to get people who are taller than me in frame. but they're great!"

lewis laughed and then looked at his own arms. "i have t-rex arms too."

i laughed and said, "oh, no you don't!" NOT EVEN THINKING i reached out and touched his arm. MEGAN. DO NOT FLIRT WITH LEWIS PULLMAN. YOU ARE IN DANGER, GIRL.

he was laughing and said, "well, i'll take them!" he grabbed my phone, and asked "do we want flash or do we not want flash?"

"no flash. it's kind of my enemy because i get really shiny."

he took a couple of pictures and there was flash, and was like "wait ... we didn't want flash." so together, while he was holding my phone, we were pressing my screen together trying to figure out how to turn it off. our hands kept touching and i was... really trying not to spontaneously combust.

(hiding my face in this one because i'm not a fan of it, but his is darling)

after he handed my phone back to me, he said, "let's see how they turned out!"

i was scrolling through them and he leaned over and said, "oh these are really good!" i landed on the one above and he chuckled and said, "i really like that one!"

i don't like my face in it, but i'm laughing and clearly so so happy, and said, "you know what? i like that one too."

i asked if he would mind signing something for me, and he said that he didn't mind at all, that he'd love to sign something for me. he was putting his ballcap on (because he's such a gentleman who took his hat off for our pictures), and it was a little askew when he asked "do you have a pen?"

gonna need this dude to stop being so darling.

i did, and pulled out some bar napkins i'd stuffed in my purse earlier and asked if this was good. lewis laughed a little and nodded saying that a napkin was great.

i was just expecting a signature, so as he's writing this little novella above it, i'm like "oh my god, you don't have to do this." and he kinda giggled like it was some kind of big secret. "what are you writing, you sweet man?" i asked, and he giggled again!!

lewis handed me the bar napkin and i gave it a quick read and said, "thank you so much. this is so sweet!"

he leaned against the bar again for a moment and said, "it so means the world to me that you travelled all that way to come see us, and that you had a good time."

and then, before i'm truly aware of what's happening, he leaned in (and crouched because i'm a full foot shorter than he is), and wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me so close to him and squeezed, rubbed my back. and again thanked me so much for coming out, meant the world, made his night.

y'all. getting a hug from lewis pullman may have cured my depression. like it was an actual hug.

i, on the verge of flying into space from joy, thanked him again for everything that night, and he said, "you are so welcome! i hope i can see you again!"

LEWIS WHAT ARE WE.

i, very drunk on elation and a little drunk on beer, blew him a kiss, and he smiled and put his hands over his heart. i floated away back into the crowd, and tried to not just scream with happiness.

and that, my friends, is how lewis pullman damn near killed me.

#lewis pullman #pullman the younger #atta boy #antiquitea.txt #antiquitea.png

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dc418writes · 1 month ago

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talk so sweet when you’re doing bad things

✨Pairing✨: inmate!softdark!Steve Rogersxpsychiatrist!black!reader

Summary🪄: Your pining isn’t in vain

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!, oral (m!receiving), unprotected happy adult times (please be safe out there guys and girls!), language, obsessive like behavior, implied stalking, mention of masturbation (f!receiving)

A/N🎤: ✨HAPPY SPOOKY SEASON🎃!!✨ this is my submission to the Horny Hoes Hootenanny hosted by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @yenzys-lucky-charm and I hope you guys like what I came up with☺️! Also please support the other works for this event and even submit your own if you feel inclined💕!

Fic inspo:

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were found on Pinterest*

Dialogue Prompt: “Don’t act all innocent when we both know where your mouth just was”

Tropes/Situational Prompt: the villain/monster has feelings (or thots) for you

You didn’t have to hear a name to know which escaped inmate the news anchors were currently talking about.

“Blonde white male, blue eyes, 6’3, considered highly dangerous.”

You knew him very well having had him as a patient for about a year now. Pretty much the same amount of time his hulking body - yet soft features - has plagued your dreams and hidden fantasies. That first night it happened, your imagination vividly playing in your resting mind how his thick fingers would touch you just right to have you writhing and moaning for more, you were…flustered.

It wasn’t the first time - and probably wouldn’t be the last - that a patient made a surprise appearance in one of your dreams. Details and analysis from earlier sessions still fresh in your subconscious and lingering into your resting state. It was how you felt afterwards though, that told you this instance was far different. You desperately - and a little shamefully - wished you could sink back into that erotic dreamland when you awoke throbbing and needy from the scenes now branded in your memory. Sometimes you even found yourself daydreaming about his muscular, tattooed arms wrapped tightly around you. His soft lips gently pecking along your face before journeying down your heated body to where you wanted him most. That dark beard scratching and tickling your inner thighs until it ultimately became soaked.

Although that hidden primal urge wanted differently, every day after you expertly maintained your professionalism during your sessions with him. Carefully dissecting his words and explanations to make sure he wasn’t a danger to himself or others - well, no more than what other people already believed that is.

However one day, something shifted.

Gone was his reserved attitude - clearly deciding whether to fully trust you - and instead, a man who seemed…one step ahead. Dare you say a little smug. Admittedly, this new aura had a familiar warmth spreading along your lower abdomen causing your thighs to squeeze together as you slightly shifted in your seat.

“So, how are you today Mr. Rogers?,” you asked turning to a fresh sheet of paper in your spiral notebook.

He sighs, briefly widening his thick legs as he gets comfortable. His tattooed hand scratching along his bearded jaw. “Good as I can be. And I think we’ve known each other long enough that you can call me Steve.”

“Is that what you would prefer?”

For the first time, a hint of a smirk paints his pink lips thinking of a few names he’d prefer you call him. It’s unknown to you though as your hand moves along the page scribbling notes. “Makes things more comfortable right?”

Finally you look up from your writing to meet an intensity in his sea like eyes you’ve never experienced. You can’t look away though as you feel yourself slowly become flustered. “Are you not comfortable during our sessions..Steve?”

He pauses for a moment simply letting his eyes roam along your features - as if analyzing you for a change - before leaning forward with elbows on his knees. “What’re you writing?”

“Just observations. Notes for your file.”

“We can’t make our own notes?”

“Um..of course. I would actually suggest journaling as a way to manage your emotions; your thoughts. Keeping up with other suggestions from our sessions you might find helpful.”

“And my own observations,” he adds leaning back in his chair. “Like you.”

“What exactly do you mean ‘like me’?”

“Like how you seem…different. Bothered maybe.” You subtly try to calm your increasing pulse as he crosses his arms across his chest. His muscles straining against the white tee that have you near dripping already. Swirls of black ink forming various pictures and cursive words on his arms teasingly persuading you to kiss each one.

There’s no way he could tell was there?

“Thank you for inquiring, but this session is about you Steve,” you answer closing the notebook in your lap. “And as a warning, that question is ina-,”

“Must be tiring though. Always doing for others, yet no one there for you.” Steve’s tongue peeks out ever so gently wetting his lips. “No one to take care of you.”

“I’m an adult. I care for myself.”

“My point exactly.” Steve’s head just barely tilts while his vice drops an octave lower. “We both know everyone shouldn’t do everything alone.”

“I think we’re done here,” you quickly respond so he couldn’t go farther and crumble your resolve. “Have a good day Mr. Rogers.”

There’s a slight mischievous tilt to his lips as he stands. Cords of muscles moving under his shirt with such a subtle movement. His hands clasp in front of him turning to walk towards the door where a guard always waited to escort him back to his cell, and you can’t help but silently admire the expanse of his backside. From his broad shoulders to his thick thighs, the sight causes that pulse between your legs to start again.

“You too” is all he says once he’s near the door, but his earlier words leave a lasting impression throughout your day. You can’t seem to focus on your other clients constantly thinking of his deep voice, his pink lips, the intense way he looked at you that wasn’t uncomfortable but made you feel seen.

That night was the fastest you’ve ever came - squeezing and clutching around the rubber toy inside you so hard you genuinely thought there’d be an indentation when you finally pulled it from your messy core.

Something also snapped in you, wanting - needing - to know if Steve was just as good as you fantasized. That’s admittedly how your arrangement began, first sweet talking the guard into taking his lunch earlier after overhearing his child was sick. “He hasn’t had any violent acts in a little over a year. His file can attest that he’s currently not a danger. I’ll be fine, your kid needs you.” Reluctantly, he followed your suggestion but would of course try to be back in time for transport.

“You call if anything goes left, alright? Remember your panic button,” the man, maybe 10 years older, states peering dead center into your pupils so you’d know he was serious and he’d know you were listening. A quick nod sends him on his way to retrieve Steve; leaving you to mentally prepare yourself for what was to come.

A smirk tugs on his lips once the door closes behind him. His deep blue eyes raking up and down your seated body; appreciating the black, knee-length pencil skirt you chose to wear rather than your typical slacks. “Good afternoon Steve.”

“Afternoon,” he replies slightly tilting his head forward in greeting. “Since we’re still meeting, I take it what I said wasn’t all that bad. That you might’ve even agreed with me..”

Fast forward, your secret rendezvouses were still going strong. You on your knees for him just as you were that first day gladly bobbing up and down his throbbing length. Your hand not clutching his thigh twisting and rubbing what you couldn’t reach.

“This is how you act a week without me huh?,” he smirks with his larger hand clutching the back of your neck. When you peer up at him through wet lashes - moaning as you nod your head - he nearly comes undone cursing under his breath as the veins in his neck distend in that way you love so much.

Just as you feel him twitch in your mouth, he’s quick to pull you off causing you to gasp for breath as he maneuvers you to your feet. Turning you so your back would hit the wall as he hurriedly pushes your dress up over your hips. As usual, he’s met with your bare center glistening and ready for him.

“Fuck..need to be inside you,” Steve whispers against your lips before claiming your mouth as he’s done plenty times before. His tongue easily dominating yours only makes you wetter and thighs feel sticky.

“Steve please,” you pout. “Fill me up.” His hand grips under your knee simultaneously lifting and spreading you so he could slide in. His member thick, red, and leaking when he pulls down his orange pants. Luckily Steve wasn’t in the teasing mood, roughly entering your needy hole and making you loudly moan before his mouth was covering yours again.

“You’re gonna get us caught sweetheart,” he chuckles kissing along your jaw and neck. “Then again, maybe that’s what you want.” His pace begins to quicken as your hands clutch his shoulders and fingernails dig into his skin causing him to groan. “Want someone to see how good I make you feel? How deep you take me?”

“Steve,” you whine letting your head fall back against the wall. The slapping of his hips against yours nearly drowning out your panting and whimpers. “S’close.”

“I know, I know. God you’re so pretty like this, all blissed out and dumb.” He practically growls into your chest trying to hold on for longer, but he knows he’ll be gone soon the way you squeeze around him so tight. Even after all these months of meetings.

His free hand moves between you to circle your nearly raw nub as he switches between kisses and nips along your breast making you arch and tears prick the corners of your eyes feeling that addicting wave overtake you. “Ste-..I-…plea-,”

“Give it to me, cmon.” It wasn’t long after your release crashed into you that Steve was following, burying his face in your neck as he kept his moans and whimpers low. His hand massages your achy thigh while he pecks along the column of your throat in an effort to calm you down.

“My pretty girl. Did so good for me.” You couldn’t help but giggle feeling your cheeks heat at his words.

“T-Thank you Steve.”

How so much can change in the matter of hours.

Sat on your couch, knees pressed against your chest, all you can do is listen as the man rummages in your fridge and pantry trying to find whatever it was he wanted. The television playing a game show you’d usually be interested in, but now can’t even hear it with the pounding in your ears. Your heart still thudding since first leaving your bedroom to investigate the noise you heard and finding him in your living room.

“Figured you’d want some,” he states placing the cup of peppermint tea on the table in front of you. How he knew, you didn’t have the stomach to think about let alone how he knew where you lived in the first place.

“Y-You shouldn’t be here,” you whisper as he sits on the opposite end of the couch. Your first words to him tonight.

Steve just lowly chuckles. “Don’t act all innocent when we both know where your mouth just was.”

“That still doesn’t give-,”

“Then why leave your key?,” he counters. “Of all our sessions I didn’t even know you had them. Yet today there it was.”

You didn’t purposely leave your key. Already in a rush when you arrived that morning, you just left it out rather than placing it in your wallet like usual. It wasn’t until you were in your car on the way home that you remembered it shining against the hardwood off to the side. According to protocol, you should’ve notified someone but you figured you could just get it the next morning and use your spare in the meantime.

In retrospect, you realize Steve must’ve seen and swiped it when you weren’t looking. Probably when you were cleaning yourself up and righting your dress.

“The key was just out Steve,” you carefully try to explain seeing the confusion in his features. “I didn’t leave it on purpose.”

“So now this is all my fault?”

“No it’s no one’s fault-,”

His sudden movement - standing to pace along the expanse of your bay window - startles you to stand yourself and ready to run if needed. “Can’t you see I did this for us?!”

“I-I know Steve, but-,”

“No,” he darkly chuckles shaking his head as he steps closer. “No don’t even try. This is real and we both know it!”

You quickly wipe away the tear falling from your eye trying to stay calm; hoping you could turn the situation around. That feeling entirely fleets watching him pull out his notebook and flip through the dated pages smudged with something…shiny.

“I saved these just in case you tried to deny it. Make it seem like I was the crazy one.”

Cautiously, you close the gap between you. Luckily he lets you hold his hand when you reach out towards him. “Y-You’re not crazy and I’m not denying anything Steve.” His frustration shifts to a soft smile gazing into your brown eyes. “We need to get you back to your cell though. You don’t wanna ruin all your progress right?”

Somehow you steady yourself not to flinch when his hand rises to caress your soft cheek. His thumb lowering to trace your plump lips he loved so much.

Love. He loved you. And if his mother taught him anything, you do any and everything for those you love.

“I can’t do that. You need someone to take care of you like only I can. You didn’t even check your windows before you went to bed sweetheart.” You can’t fight the tears now fully letting them flow as your future vanishes before your eyes.

“Hey it’s okay, I’m here now,” he coos. Those arms you once fantasized about now burning against your skin for a different reason. “No one’s separating us again.”

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