#SaiyanPrincessSwanie 500 followers challenge

[nekoannie-chan]

Regretful words

Pairing: 40!Steve Rogers X 40’s!Reader.

Word count: 819 words.

Summary: Steve didn’t wait for you to take you to the dance.

Warnings: Angst, kind of cheating, feelings of regret.

A/N: This is my entry to @jessybarnes’s Jessy Reaches 500 Followers Writing Challenge with the prompt angst #4:

"I don’t forgive you."

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

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The 40's.

The hum of the music echoed, you didn't know where it was coming from, but it wasn't supposed to be loud, so you continued with what you were doing. Steve had his gaze fixed on you.

The tension between you had grown in the last few weeks. Steve was committed to his duties as Captain America often took him away from you. On one such night, he promised you that you would attend the charity ball together, but when the day came, he seemed to change his mind, he didn't even say anything to you, he just left.

You thought maybe he got desperate and went ahead while you finished getting ready, so you arrived at the place alone, but what you saw shocked you. Margaret Carter was holding Steve's arm.

You moved a little closer, and after a few minutes, you found yourself watching from a distance as Steve and Peggy danced, their faces illuminated by the dim light of the room. Tears threatened to blur your eyes.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You left, and when he arrived they would talk, you didn't even know how but throughout your wait, you had a forced smile on your face as you tried to hide the pain.

"Steve," you said in a firm but shaky voice as soon as he arrived, "I never thought you would break a promise."

Steve looked up to meet your eyes full of disappointment.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he muttered, a regretful expression on his face. "There was a change of plans, and I thought you'd understand."

You couldn't bear to look at him. "It's not enough, Steve. You promised we'd be together tonight, but it looks like you had a new dance partner. I don't forgive you." With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Steve behind.

The days that followed were a disaster. The unanswered phone calls and unopened letters continued. Steve would try to apologize, to explain, but you wouldn't listen.

A week later, life took an unexpected turn. News of Steve's disappearance spread like wildfire.

In the solitude of your apartment, you found yourself holding one of Steve's unopened letters. Tears were falling on the paper as you read his words of regret and love.

The nights were long and lonely, all you had now were the memories. The tears were constant as you clung to the hope that Steve would return to your side.

Then, one cold morning, a report came into your hands. News of Steve Rogers' death spread quickly and you didn't know what to do.

The impact of the news was devastating. The tears seemed like they would never stop. Memories of nights shared with Steve became more vivid and painful. Every corner of your apartment seemed to whisper his name, now you didn't know what you would do.

You dove into the unopened letters Steve had sent you before his disappearance. Words of love, of regret, of broken promises. The paper seemed to carry with it the echo of his voice, and each word echoed in your mind as if he were there speaking to you. There were moments when you wished you had not said those last words, you wished you could go back and change the course of history.

You found solace in the photographs you had taken together, which were now displayed in every corner of your home.

One melancholy afternoon, while you were looking at one of those photographs, an unexpected visitor arrived. A military officer knocked on your door, holding a small box in his hands.

"My condolences," he murmured as he handed you the box.

Inside the box were personal effects, and a few more medals for Steve's service. His uniform, and his most treasured belongings, were all carefully stored like a treasure trove.

You sat silently, staring at the box as if it might reveal some secret that would help you understand what had happened. Among his belongings, you found a letter Steve had written shortly before his last mission. Your trembling hands opened the envelope, and his words filled the air.

"Dear Y/N,

If you're reading this, it means things didn't go as we had hoped. I want you to know that every day away from you was a day filled with regret. I made mistakes, and I am deeply sorry. The night of the dance, I didn't mean to hurt you, but I can't change the past. I just want you to remember the good times, and I hope someday you can forgive me. My heart will always belong to you, even beyond this world.

Love, Steve."

The tears came back to your eyes. The regret in his writing was palpable, and you wondered if things might have been different if you had known earlier how he felt.

Now you didn't know how to go on with your life in a world without Steve.

[gogolucky13]

Partition

Summary: Bucky likes to remind you he’s yours.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Word count: 2,049

Warnings: Smut. Oral sex (m/f receiving). A slightly dom Bucky? Underlying fluff. Mild swearing. (18+ only please).

A/N: This is a submission for @saiyanprincessswanie​‘s 500 Followers Writing Challenge (congrats Missy!!). And yes, title and part of the story were inspired by that Beyoncé song. 😏 Hope you like! 😊💜 gif not mine.

You always hated going to these things. Extravagant parties full of pretentious people who care only about the money you have and the money you can make them. There was never a lack of trying on your part to convince Bucky these events were stupid. He mostly agreed, but “we gotta make connections and keep the ones we have happy” would always be his response.

Therefore, you find yourself in yet another expensive dress sitting by the bar and mindlessly sipping at your cocktail. A silky black evening gown covers your body, accented with the finest gold jewelry. Matching earrings and necklace set for your birthday last year, and a diamond bracelet for your fifth wedding anniversary. 

Bucky has been absent for most of the night. Once you make your introductions and the rounds of tedious small talk, you leave him to conduct whatever business he needs to attend to with whoever he needs to. You know he makes dirty money, but that doesn’t mean you like to hear the logistics of it.

At the bar, two women whom you’ve met before stand on either side of you, chatting about whatever new designer purchase they’ve made. You tuned them out not long after they invited you into their conversation. It’s getting a bit late, and you’re always ready to go the second you arrive at these things. 

Eyes full of resolute scan the crowd of people for your mobster husband so you can get the hell out of here already. An area full of high top tables catches your attention, and it’s there you spot him, chatting animatedly with a woman you don’t recognize. Before making your way over to them, you sit and watch the scene, a sly smirk curling the corner of your lips. 

His body language is friendly, but doesn’t give the invitation for any advances; however, it seems the woman either isn’t getting the hint or just doesn’t care. It’s quite obvious when she’s flicking her hair back to give a better view of her cleavage and placing a flirtatious touch to his arm that she’s attempting to sell herself to Bucky.

But still, there’s no pang of jealousy ripping through your chest. No shade of green filtering your vision. On the contrary, you’re finding the whole situation rather arousing.

Watching this woman throw herself at the man who has told you countless times he’s yours and yours alone. Knowing her advances will get her no where is creating a tempting desire to stir your insides, and spurring on the want to interrupt their conversation to take Bucky away from this party and give him a sensual reminder of why he so willingly claims to be yours.

Walking up behind Bucky, you slide a hand up over his shoulder and down his arm as you come to stand beside him. The woman he’s been talking with quickly shifts her gaze from Bucky to you, and there’s a less than an unimpressed look warping her features. And that look quickly turns to one of annoyance when you’re telling Bucky you’re ready to leave and he’s following behind you without giving the woman a second thought.

Once outside, the limo that brought you to the event waits out front for you. Pinching the silk of your long gown, you give the driver a curt nod before slipping into the backseat, Bucky close behind.

The latch of the door echoes in the silent backseat and needy hands begin trailing up the black fabric of Bucky’s thigh.

“What’s this, Doll?” Bucky chuckles, whiskey and temptation lowering the tenor of his voice.

“Mm,” you hum, fingers lightly brushing the tip of his hardening length, “you look so good tonight.”

Red painted lips place featherlight kisses to the skin of Bucky’s neck. The contradicting sensations of tender lips and assertive hands induces a feral growl in his chest.

“Doll…” A husky warning as he glances to the front of the car. 

Silver fingers reflect in the passing streetlights when he gestures for the driver to close the partition, other hand sliding up the bare skin of your thigh where it peeks through the slit of your dress. A gentle squeeze to the flesh and he turns capturing your lips with his. Tongues quickly intertwining, the kiss is becoming heady, and you’re desperate for more.

“Let me taste you,” you whisper, shifting to kneel before him in the backseat.

The clinking of a belt buckle rattles the heated space, and you’re quick to remove Bucky’s thick member from its clothed confines, tip already glistening with arousal. Taking a moment to wet your lips, you look up to him. 

Hooded blue eyes watch you intently as you lick a single strip up his length, tongue running hungrily over the pulsating vein. And then you take him fully into your mouth. Coarse hairs tickling the tip of your nose, and a red ring of lipstick appears at the base of his cock.

A subtle claim to what is yours.

Hitting the back of your throat, an almost pained moan is stifled from above you. A hand is moving to help keep your hair out of the way, and you flit your eyes back to Bucky, who holds his bottom lip harshly between his teeth. He glances to your dress, and you can practically see the desired want reflecting in his darkened eyes.

The thin strap of your dress slips off your shoulder, exposing a breast and Bucky is throbbing in your mouth. Sure to be mindful of every inch of him, you switch between a mix of short and quick, and long and slow movements, and he’s panting above you as he starts to come undone. 

And when gentle fingers massage the soft skin below his cock, Bucky is writhing and thrusting up into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he hisses, the grip on your hair tightening, “I’m gonna…ahh.”

Hot spurts of his seed hits the back of your throat, and you swallow it eagerly. Releasing him from your mouth, a strand of saliva laced with his arousal strings from your swollen lips to the tip of his member.

“Such a good girl,” Bucky muses, leaning forward to swipe a thumb over the mess around your mouth. 

Lipstick smeared, mascara stained cheeks, and eyes glossed over in pure desire, Bucky is ready to be home now. And the carnal look he’s giving you has your thighs clenching together, desperate for any form of release until he can take you to bed.

“Just wait until we get home, Doll,” he says, “By the time I’m done with you, you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

The ride back home is full of impatient touches and heavy pants. Soft moans on heated skin mixing in lust. And then the car is finally pulling into the driveway of your home, Bucky quick to dismiss the driver for the night. 

Before you even make it through the front door, Bucky has a tight hold of your wrists, securing them in place above your head. A thick thigh is pressed between your legs, the wetness of your arousal dampening the fabric of his suit, and his body pushes yours firmly against the wall.

“What has you all hot and bothered tonight, Doll?” Bucky speaks along the shell of your ear, breaths of hot air tickling the skin of your neck. “Or should I say, who’s got you all hot and bothered?”

You attempt to stifle a moan when he begins to trail gentle lips on your skin. And it takes you a moment to respond, voice breathy, almost whiny.

“That woman you were talking to,” you say, attempting to catch his lips when they get close, but he denies you. Instead, humming in affirmation he heard you, lips kissing their way down to your chest. “She just kept throwing herself at you.”

Another hum, the light vibrations reaching straight to your core. 

“You know I’m only yours, Doll,” Bucky replies after he brings his lips back to hover over yours, blue eyes nearly black. “Do I need to remind you?”

A pitiful whine falls from your lips, swallowed up by the kiss Bucky eagerly presses to your mouth. Metal hand takes both wrists in one, while his flesh hand snakes between your legs. Warm fingers slip under the lace fabric of your panties, slick along your wet folds.

“Seems you already know I’m yours.” You feel the pleased smirk through the kiss and are about to quip back with something, but your words and all thoughts are cut off when you feel the first finger slide inside you, then another. “Mm, always so ready for me, aren’t you?”

Languidly, his fingers move in and out of your heat, expertly curling up inside you. 

“Buc—”

But the call of his name dies on your tongue when you feel his body pulling away from you. The pressure of his hard muscles is gone, leaving you feeling slightly weak. The metal hand above you releases your wrists, and before you can comprehend, the feel of Bucky’s slick tongue running along your folds has you almost buckling at the knees.

A tender touch to your outer thigh, and he brings a leg over his shoulder for easier access. Your hands quickly find their way into his hair, an attempt to hold yourself upright. Chest heaving as you feel yourself climbing closer to the apex of pleasure.

“I’m…I’m close…”

And when you feel the soft licks of his tongue on your clit, your vision blurs and you’re crying out in ecstasy. Hands gripping tightly on the hairs at the root, no time to think about how painful it might be for him.

Pulling his fingers out, you’re still in a daze but instantly miss the feeling. Bleary eyes watch as Bucky licks the arousal from them before he’s kissing you again.

“C’mon Doll, I’m not done with you yet,” Bucky says against your lips, guiding you to the kitchen.

Desperate hands are removing the straps of your dress, the silk falling to the tiled floor, and Bucky lets out a hungry growl. Turning you to face the island, a warm hand runs along your spine as he bends you over, the marble cool in contrast to your bare chest.

A kiss to your thigh when he kneels down to take off your panties, and then you hear the sound of his belt buckle jingling behind you. Fingers run along your core before you feel the thickness of his length filling you up.

Leaning over you, the buttons of his shirt indent into the skin of your back, his lips against your ear when he speaks in a gravelly voice.

“Do you believe I’m yours yet?”

 “Yes, Bucky, yes,” you whine. “Please, move.”

“As you wish.”

He places a tender kiss between your shoulder blades before he’s standing upright and his hips begin thrusting into you. First he takes it slow, giving you the chance to adjust to his size, and when you reach an impatient hand to squeeze his thigh, nails digging harshly into the flesh, he picks up the pace. 

His movements become almost unforgiving, but he knows what you can handle. Rough hands grasp at your hips before one slides up to gently grip the back of your neck, giving way to a new angle. He’s deep inside you, the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting that one spot that has your eyes watering in pained pleasure.

He takes you in the kitchen, finishing with a deep grunt, a heavy body collapsing on top of yours. Soft lips and teeth giving tender bites to your shoulder.

Then he takes you again in the bedroom, slower this time, each thrust and kiss full of loving passion. He knows you never question if he’s yours and yours only, but he never passes up the opportunity to remind you that it’s true.

Pushing inside you for one final time, his face is buried in your neck and you hear the muffled moan as he releases inside you. When he pulls out, he doesn’t give you the chance to move away from him, bringing your body against his. Kissing the top of your head, he speaks softly into your hair.

“I’m yours forever, Doll.”

[navegandoaciegas]

no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: catholic priest!Bucky, virgin!Bucky, desecrating thoughts and actions, explicit language, smut, consensual sexual acts, mentions of loss of virginity, slight innocence and religious kinks (nothing disturbing), oral sex, fingering, masturbation, sex in a public (and sacred) place.

Summary: As punishment for your sinful behavior, your parents send you to your aunt’s house in the middle of nowhere, in hope you’ll redeem yourself. The punishment quickly backfires when you take an interest in the local (and handsome) priest, and you manage to corrupt his pure soul.

A/N: I was in a priest!Bucky mood this morning and I wrote this for @saiyanprincessswanie​ writing challenge. I chose prompt 17 and the ‘opposites attract’ trope. I hope you like this!

Filth and happy ending ‘cause I’m a sap. Take me to church by Hozier inspired this.

This is not a dark story and both reader and Bucky are consenting adults. Fyi, catholic priests can’t marry, and they change their name when they are ordained. We’ll pretend James is the name he took as priest.

You look over your shoulder to check if anyone’s around and knock on the backdoor of the church, waiting for your lover to usher you inside. The sinful secrecy of it all, the rush of excitement, your love for all that’s forbidden: you’ve never felt more alive.

Being forced to spend the summer in the middle of nowhere is not the way you expected your senior year of college to end, but not all evil comes to harm, and in this quiet little town, you’ve become quite interested in the local priest. In your defence, boredom is the root of all evil, and in your case, evil happens to make you horny and prone to making bad decisions, and Father James is young and handsome, so it was only a matter of time before he gave in the temptation of the flesh and you found yourself fucked against the altar. 

Ordained or not, he’s only a man after all.

-

The confessional is dark and suffocating; behind the wooden screen, the priest is all ears.

Muscle memory kicks in when you do the sign of the cross and begin to speak. 

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.” you recite the formula that’s been ingrained in your mind since you were old enough to need it, “My last confession was seven years ago.”

You mentally curse your parents for still having the authority to send you to Bumfuck Nowhere, Alabama, and your aunt for forcing you to attend church and confess your sins. 

It will be good for your soul, they said, New York is corrupting you.

You suppose it’s only fair that your good catholic parents would react so drastically; they wanted to surprise you in your new apartment and drove all the way from Rhode Island to New York, only to find your piano tutor buried balls deep inside of you. Lord knows what they’d do if they knew you’ve lost your purity long before that, with one of the good catholic girls in your private boarding school. Extramarital sex, with a woman at that! They’d probably have a meltdown, drag your to a cloistered convent and lock you there for life.   

You don’t wait for the priest to acknowledge you and start talking.

“You know Father, I found a handy dandy little list of all the sins you’re supposed to confess to and I checked them. I’ll read it to you. Let’s see.” you clear your throat, “So, I use artificial birth control, I broke a couple of promises, including the one to wait for marriage, I can be kind of blasphemous sometimes, but you see, I spent six months abroad in Italy last year and the kids there taught me all sorts of ways to disrespect the Lord, they have so many, and once those things get stuck in your brain... what can you do, they just stick in there, you don’t even want to say them but they become part of your vocabulary.” you continue uninterrupted, “Anyways, my parents caught me in the act with a man, so I guess we have ‘dishonoring family’ too. Underage drinking as a kid, a lot of that. Drugs sometimes, nothing major, ya know, I don’t do coke or nothing. Gossiping, impure thoughts, God-”

He interrupts you clearing his throat.

“Sorry. See? I don’t even do it on purpose. As I was saying, I love those. Lying... not a whole lot to be honest; to my parents, mostly. Haven’t prayed in a good 10 years. Masturbation, did I mention that? Watched porn a couple of times, ‘m not a big fan if I’m being honest, but to each their own. Oh, and premarital sex, a ton of that. Had an orgy once, not too fond of those either. Too many limbs.”

There’s a lot to unpack here, so you give him a moment to ponder his thoughts. He stays silent for a while, and when he speaks his voice is not at all what you expected it to be. He’s soft spoken yet commanding, and sounds surprisingly young.

“Anything else you can remember?”

“Well of course, the cherry on top, my own first class ticket to hell.” you say, not as cheerful as before, repeating the exact words you’ve been taught for years, “God gave me free will and I used it to commit homosexual acts, Father. Multiple times.” 

You let the words hang in the stuffy air of the confessional; you don’t know what to expect from the priest, to be honest. Last time you admitted to thinking of a girl to a religious figure, Sister Theresa told you you’d never have to act on your impulses, or you’d burn in hell for it. You were 12. 

“You think that’s worse than the rest?”

“Not me, no, I don’t.”

He hums thoughtfully. “What makes you do the things you do?” he asks, and you don’t feel any of the judgment you were expecting, only genuine curiosity.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me to repent for my sins?” you reply, equally as curious.

“Is absolution what you’re seeking?”

You snort, shaking your head. “I’m not looking for forgiveness, Father, and I’m way past asking for permission.”

“Then why are you here?”

“My aunt forced me.”

It’s his turn to snort this time. “You don’t seem the type to follow orders blindly.”

You admit the guy’s got a point. “I guess… I don’t know. I felt the need to. It feels nice, talking to someone. I feel lonely a lot, and it’s easier to talk to strangers. And this is cheaper than therapy, so that’s a bonus. Really, I just need to vent.”

“Do you regret any of your choices?” he says, after a while.

“Not the ones I confessed to.” you admit, trying to discern the priest’s figure behind the screen. 

“What is it, then?”

“You know, you’re kinda chill for a priest from Alabama, I gotta give it to you.” you respond, dodging his question.

“Thanks, it’s probably because I’m from Brooklyn.”

“What the hell-” 

“Language.” 

“Sorry. Why would someone move from Brooklyn to this place?”

“Vocation.”

“I see.” 

It’s silent again, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

“You should come to the parish sometimes. We have meetings, we sing, we eat together, the children play football and the young adults talk about what it means to be a Catholic in the modern world. It may ease your mind about a lot of worries and misconceptions you might have.”

You contemplate on his words: it wouldn’t hurt, would it? It’s not like you’ve got a whole lot going on here; and you might as well find yourself a devoted man or woman to pass time. 

“I might.”, you finally respond, not willing to give him the satisfaction, and stand from the chair. “I’ll see you around, Father.”

“May God give you peace, miss.”

“Amen.”

-

“What took you so long?” James asks, grunting when you pull on his hair.

“My aunt asked me to make lunch for her husband, as if he couldn’t do it his damn self.” you respond, and suck on his bottom lip, “Missed me?”

“Always.”

You coo, “My eager boy.”

He’s sitting on his office chair and you’re straddling his lap, grinding your hips on him and feeling his arousal grow. You’re burning up, panties damp and a familiar coil in your core. You don’t know what excites you the most: being responsible for the corruption of such pure soul, the forbidden aspect of fucking a Catholic priest, or the possibility of someone walking in on you. Your walls flutter when you imagine the scandal that this affair would create.

You pull him closer, tugging on his white collar, and he breaks the kiss. His eyes are black and glossed over, lips swollen, cheeks red, but there’s something like worry in eyes.

“Do you love me?” he asks quietly, in the soft voice you adore.

“Of course I do, you know that.”

You fall on your knees and fumble with the zipper of his black pants.

“Would you love me if I didn’t have this collar?” he stops your hands with his, “Would you still love me if I wasn’t this?”, he gestures to his sacred attire.

You pause your actions and search his eyes. Where is this coming from?

“Yes, I’d love you anyways, I’ll always love you.”

A small, shy smile breaks on his face. He lifts you up and makes you sit on his desk.

“I- I w-want to try something,” he begins with a stutter, “I remember hearing some kids back when I was in school talk about it.”

You cock your head to the side, observing carefully as he sits back down on the chair and parts your legs. He lowers his head and begins peppering the inner skin of your thighs with open mouthed kisses. Oh-.

“James, you don’t have to do this.” you try to tell him, but he’s already moving your panties to the side.

He stares entranced between your legs; he’s never been this bold, never watched you there. “You’re so pretty, I want to kiss you here.” 

You feel a finger tease your entrance and dip in. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, and when he licks a strip of your dripping cunt, you feel like you could burst. He delves in your glistening folds, tongue swirling around as if he was kissing your mouth, and your hips jerk forward when he crooks a couple of fingers inside you, hitting that sweet spot that makes the coil in your belly grow tighter. 

You throw your head back and your eyes fall on the cross behind you. You are very much past forgiveness at this point, you muse, and that makes this all the more exciting.

You’re writhing under his touch, completely at his mercy. You grab the back of his neck and bring his face upward so that his mouth comes in contact with your clit.

“Suck there.” you demand in a raspy voice, rocking your hips and fucking yourself on his fingers. “Good boy.” you praise when he closes his mouth around your bud and begins sucking and lapping on it. “Yes, oh my God, fuck, faster.”

James obeys and jerks the fingers inside of you, the vibration and his tongue enough to make the knot in your core unravel and pleasure release in jolts, shooting from your center to the rest of your body; you slap a hand on your mouth to suppress wanton moans as your hips twitch involuntarily and your toes curl. He rides you though your orgasm until you’re too sensitive to handle his face on you.

When you look down, you find him, face wet in your arousal, eyes half lidded.

“Did I do well?” he asks full of hope, still clinging to your legs and nuzzling your thigh.

“You did amazing, sweet boy.”

-

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”

Hearing your sultry voice, he chokes on air behind the screen and clears his throat, trying to keep the same composure he always seems to loose when you’re around. 

“I got friendly with a man, you see, a man of church.” you begin in a teasing tone, “He kissed me, and I didn’t pull back. I let him roam his hands all over my body, Father, and then I corrupted him.”, You lick a couple of fingers and dip them in your mouth, then you release them with a popping sound and slowly slip them in your panties. You push a finger in your already wet core, smearing arousal around and teasing your clit, slow at first. “You should have seen how innocent he looked, Father. He said he’s never been touched like that. A virgin. I’ve never been with a virgin before.” you continue, almost moaning the last part as you slide three fingers in and out of you and tease your bud with your thumb, “He didn’t even know I could please him with my mouth, so I took him in and I sucked him off.” You’re panting, hand furiously circling your clit. You hear Bucky’s ragged breath behind the screen. “He moaned so loud, F-F-Father, he c-came so quick. And I swallowed it all, because you can’t let a single drop of seed g-go to w-waste, can you?” you whimper, feeling an orgasm build up.

You’re fueled by his suppressed grunts and the lewd sounds of him touching himself.

“I don’t come for absolution Father, because I’d do it all again.” you breathe at last, letting pleasure run through your every nerve, setting you ablaze. 

Behind the screen, Father James paints his hand and black shirt in white spurts, shame and pleasure fighting eachother in his mind.

-

You haven’t moved yet, legs parted, trying to catch your breath, and James is still clinging onto you.

You don’t know how it happened. 

It started with boredom, with a wish to fuck the pretty priest, but you’ve caught feelings now, and in three weeks you’ll have to get back to New York, where a job and a new apartment await you.

At least your aunt and your parents are happy about your redemption: you’ve been going to church everyday. They don’t need to know you’ve spent most time on your knees or on your back.  

But you don’t want to think about it now; you can’t let sadness take over and ruin these moments when James is only yours. Your love is on borrowed time, and you intend to make the most out of it.

“Do you want to fuck me, my love? You want me to come all over your pretty cock, yes? You want to fill me up with your cum?” you whisper in his ear, amused at the way he blushes.

“Please.” he whines, palming his cock through his briefs.

“Please what, sweet boy?”

“Please let me-” he interrupts himself.

“Let me what?”

He mumbles something incomprehensible.

“Can’t hear you.” you tease him, grabbing his chin and tilting his face up.

“Let me make love to you.”

You let out a chuckle and shake your head fondly. This man has had you bent over his desk, in the confessional, behind the altar, on the benches where the devoted Catholics of this town attend mass, and yet he can’t bring himself to talk crudely.

You pull on his hair so he stands, and you kiss him ravenously, letting your hands roam over his lean body, the taste of his lips permanently etched in the back of your mind. You don’t want to forget a thing, so you commit to mind each of his little noises, the way his tongue swirls around yours, the soft caresses of his hands.

Clothes discarded in a blur, the room is filled with your moan and his grunts. He pounds into you like a desperate man, clinging onto you with a bruising touch, holding you impossibly close as if you were about to slip through his fingers. And in a way, you are.

When James makes love to you the world disappears and there’s no judgement, no church. He’s not a priest, you’re not a sinner; he’s not pure, you’re not sick.

It’s just you and him, united in one body. Just a man and a woman being one in the flesh.

His thrusts become sloppier, his breathing labored. He brings a hand on your clit and presses on it. He comes inside of you, painting your walls, and the feeling of his swollen cock inside you and his cum filling you up are enough to trigger your release too, your walls clenching on him and milking every last drop.

You’re exhausted, panting in each other’s embrace. 

There’s no sin when you’re like this; you’re no longer the devil to his holy water. 

There’s only love.

-

James’ desk in his office is dark and wide, with mahogany panels on all three sides except the one he sits at. So when Ms. Lee, the adorable elderly lady that organizes the monthly fundraising events for charity, knocks on the door as you’re bouncing on James’ cock, all you have to do is crouch down and disappear under the table.

“Good evening, Father James.” She greets him cheerfully.

You hear the tapping of her heels until she plops down on the guests chair. 

“Good evening, Ms. Lee.” he responds in a strained voice, adjusting himself on the chair.

Ms. Lee speaks a lot. She’s talking James’ ear off, blabbering about the next charity event, and you think what better occasion than this one to be an indecent slut.

You slowly massage his thighs, bringing your hands from his knees to his groin, teasing him when you get close to his crotch and retracting. 

You watch as his cock swells in front of you, and you bite back a giggle. You hear him suck in a breath when you start pumping his length with both your hands.

“Are you alright, James? You’re looking a little worse for wear.” Ms. Lee asks him worriedly when she sees her priest red and sweaty.

James clears his throat and when he’s about to open his mouth, you lick a strip from base to his leaking tip, and the noise that escapes him is between a moan and a grunt.

“Y-yes, Ms. Lee, I’m fine. Just some food poisoning I think.” he manages to answer, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.  

“Poor thing.” she coos, and you take his cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue around, sucking on the frail skin of under the tip, “Anyways-” she begins again.

James tries to keep his composure, but you sense his distress, and you imagine it must be written all over his face. One hand massages his balls, the other aids your movements as you bob your head up and down, careful not to make a noise. His legs twitch under the table when you push his cock all the way down to your throat, and he makes a strangled noise.

“Sweetie, are you sure you’re fine? You really don’t look like it.” Ms. Lee interjects again, interrupting her story.

“I’m fine ma’am, don’t worry about me.”, he says through gritted teeth, jaw clenched shut so hard he might break his teeth.

You give it all you’ve got until your jaw is aching and your knees are killing you. Your effort pays off when, with one last motion on your hands, James grunts and cums in your throat, hips jerking forward and legs shaking.

He comes so hard that you choke on his release.

“Did you hear it too?” she asks in alert.

“He-hear wh-what?” he stutters, pretending to cough to hide your noises.

“A choking sound?”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about that, just my cough.” he answers, red faced and spent.

“I guess…” she doesn’t sound convinced but lets it go anyways. She could never imagine her sweet priest is getting blown by a city whore under his desk, “I’ll get going then, but please get some rest Father, your holy duties can wait.”

They can indeed, you think, as James yanks you from underneath the table and bends you over the desk, fucking you until you’re crying.

-

“What makes you do the things you do?” he’s playing with your hair as he asks the question that’s been plaguing him for months, since that first time in the confessional.

You’re in a motel somewhere, two hours away from your town, laying on a bed like two lovers. In this room, you’re not a dirty little secret.

What excited you before, suffocates you now.

You thought you may only like the forbidden, but you find yourself at peace in his arms, that peace you’ve yearned for for 22 years, that peace you could never find, because people like you are born sick, that’s what you’ve been told your whole life.

“If I tell you, will you absolve me?” you ask, basking in his affection. 

James is so sweet, so caring. You wish this moment could last forever.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, my love. I’ve sinned too much myself.”

“My bad.” you giggle.

Silence falls on you, and you hum in though, pondering your next words very carefully.

“I don’t do them for any reasons, other than they feel good. It feels good to drink, to smoke, to fuck you, to suck your cock.”, you say, and he blushes in embarrassment, “Or maybe I never got over my teenage phase and I just like doing all the things my parents always told me not to do, who knows. Trauma? Maybe. Spite? Quite possibly. I don’t even know at this point.”

He nods slowly. 

He wishes you could see yourself through his eyes, see how perfect you are. In his heart, there’s only love for you, in his mind, no more conflict.

“I do them for you.” he answers, and you smile at him, “And for myself, I guess. I thought I had found my way, but maybe I was wrong.”

You turn to look at him, and bop his nose.

“I’ll always love you, no matter what choice you make. I’ll wait for you if you ask me to.”

But his choice has been made already. 

He doesn’t deserve his collar, but hopefully he deserves you.

-

I’m curious to hear your thoughts. Please, reblog if you liked it and leave a comment. Feedback is always appreciated. 🤍

Priest bucky masterlist

[threeminutesoflife]

Prison Letters Are Profitable

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x Reader Summary: Ransom lost it all, but was slowly gaining it back- thanks to his admirers and reconnecting with you... Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: ***Knives Out SPOILERS- story starts after the movie’s ending, 18+ smut- various mentions, manhandling, office sex, rough/hate sex

Prompt: “Sass me one more time and you will regret it.” a/n: challenge piece for @saiyanprincessswanie​ - Congratulations on your milestone!❣️🌻

Here’s to the rich and connected, those babies lucky enough to pop out of old money vaginas. No, no that’s fair. You reprimanded yourself and twisted the chain of your long necklace. The heavy stone pendant tapped along the waistband of your dress before settling.

Truthfully, anyone could say a similar snide comment about you. You might not have been born extremely wealthy, but you managed a lucky break at the current publishing house through connections of a wealthy acquaintance. It was the usual friend of a friend narrative that paved your way towards a coveted interview, eventually allowing you to secure an office with a view.

Unfortunately for you, your on-again / off-again college bedmate, Ransom Drysdale, was the one who initially greased your career wheel. He introduced you to several high-profiled publishing players when you accompanied him to grandfather's New Year’s celebration. However, after interning at his grandfather’s company, you accepted a job offer with a different publishing house.

Your decision led to several arguments with Ransom. He didn’t understand why you’d turn down a position at Blood Like Wine, especially when his grandfather owned it. But you knew if you stayed on, Ransom would intentionally and unintentionally remind you how he opened the door for you.

So you worked, hard. You learned quickly and excelled, drowning yourself in projects. And over time, you both stopped noticing how the other one didn’t call.

On bad days, you remembered Ransom and doubted your capabilities by thinking you wouldn’t have this career without him or his connections. On good days, you popped a cork and celebrated the achievements you conquered on your own.

And on days when you had too much time to think, you wondered how the man you once knew, who liked receiving blowjobs under blanket forts, turned into a brutal centerfold for Tiger Beat’s attractive killers' edition.

When news broke about Ransom’s homicidal frolicking through the deadly tulips, you tried to recall if there were any giveaways to what really lay beneath his surface. You’d tease him on how he unconsciously ate his sandwiches into squares, rotating the bread between bites. But you doubted there was a checkbox for that on a psych eval.

Sure, the roots of his family tree were tangled, but who’s weren't? But for him to hack away at his own foundation, to do those crimes he was being accused of...? You had trouble understanding.

Maybe it was because of your biased history with Ransom, because unclear thoughts always fogged your mind where he was concerned. Questions tumbled and pulled at you on how he could possibly do the things he was accused of.

You never had a clear answer but his defense did, and the jury agreed with them. He didn’t commit the crimes fully aware.

Popularity was a gift bestowed upon Ransom, and he used it well. His lawyers were especially pleased with how photogenic he was- once they persuaded him to curb the smirking. They easily planted seeds of doubt about Ransom’s awareness of how the real world worked. They said, he didn’t know right from wrong because he wasn’t taught actions held consequences. For a man who was never denied anything, he wouldn’t be able to understand the degree of his actions. Especially when he was never disciplined.

They blamed his overindulged upbringing. How could such an exotic plant possibly survive harsh winters on unknown streets, instead of the only known environment of a palatial greenhouse?

They argued how his views and actions were different from ordinary citizens because he was plagued by a wealthy upbringing. Ransom was the victim, clearly suffering from affluenza. He grew up too rich, too well-connected, too far away from the reality of the daily grind. And now he was under duress of losing his privileged livelihood. 

The soil surrounding his roots was simply too nourishing for him to be pulled out so harshly, so cruelly. He couldn’t be transplanted in harsher conditions, in less hospitable grounds. The shock of losing all possessions and to be abandoned caused him to take abnormal actions.

He did not understand the harm he was inflicting. He was simply someone who was acting out, too spoiled to adapt to the thought of living in mediocre conditions.

Ransom never asked to be born in a family, who’s moral compass was broken. Nor did he ask to be born wealthy and have a silver spoon shoved down his throat. He was a victim of circumstance- and copious amounts of money were all he knew.

His lawyers were adamant in their defense and it worked. Their claims helped achieve a deal and reduce Ransom’s sentencing.

You still couldn’t believe the closing arguments and the small sprinkle of time he was sentenced for. It was like a fucking garnish on a plate instead of it being the main course. The disbelief of hearing his judgment still stained your carpet from when you spat your glass of red wine out.

Some nights, you secretly realized, you were more upset about his lack of sentencing than the crimes he committed.

Despite knowing the best kind of climate to plant your own career in and how to prune accordingly, Ransom somehow managed to burrow his way back into your life. Because he was here now- in your office. 

The current weed in your garden- the heinous, tacky, garden gnome of humanity- Ransom Drysdale, was currently strangling your ears and sanity. The parolee wilted your patience by explicitly detailing all his expectations for book two and his plans for book three. That rich, well-connected planting soil you potted yourself in came at the cost of a double-edged spade named Drysdale.

Ransom requested you. He told your boss he’d feel more comfortable working with someone he’d known prior. And because Ransom was Ransom, when he retold you about the request, he added with a devilish grin how he wanted someone he could trust with shared history.

When you asked if he actually said it that way to your boss, he replied with a leering half-smile and a shrug before dumping a box of papers down on your desk. He slipped his hand under his breast coat and pulled out a flask.

Twisting the cap off, he pointed at you before tasting, “To us. Let history repeat itself.”

You hoped he was referring to your occasional college hookups and not his talent for creating a fatal shit storm.

Crunching on the half-melted ice cubes from the bourbon-laced iced tea, you wished you had a pair of shears to separate his immoral head from his stalk. The way he felt the need to keep retelling you the story of how he requested you still made your itch skin with annoyance.

Was he truthful about the conversation with your boss? You’d never know. You wouldn’t put it past Ransom to exaggerate, but there was also no way in hell you’d ask your boss to confirm that suspicion. And for a moment, you tried recalling if Harlan Thrombey wrote an agriculture homicide tale, one you could take tips from. Surely he must have known which type of cornfields were best to dump a body in.

For the last year and a half, you have been Ransom's agent. The second book would compliment the first, another assignment with him that you never wanted. The false promise from your boss, ‘this will be a one-book deal,’ now bled out to a four-book series. A continuation to the nod of hormonal stupidity. There was a toothache of a thought festering- with the growing popularity of his first publication, he might have enough material to stretch for a fifth book.

Taking another sip of your liquored refreshment, you thanked Ransom for sharing the booze he routinely carried, even if his toasts were always oddly worded. He knew you were more willing to humor his long office visits and sharp demands after topping off your beverages.

You watched as your unwanted responsibility sprawled himself over the office couch; one foot on the leather cushions, his other on top of the once organized files that were now smeared across the glass coffee table. Sucking back a stream of aggravation at his disregard, you adjusted your long necklace and refocused on the letters.

Once again, Ransom would be sponging off the words of another. After leeching off his grandfather’s works, he now graduated to feasting upon fanmail.

His first book, a collection of love letters from admirers he received while in prison, helped land him back into the social pools that easily forgot about his homicidal history when his book sales rose in popularity. People were quick to forget Ransom’s murderous report card, especially when they favored bank accounts to morals.

And now, the soon-to-be second book looked as though it would re-pad Ransom’s silver-threaded slippers. You were still deciding if his third book would showcase a small amount of the hate letters he also received. But you knew those letters could only be chosen if they painted their writers in worse light than Ransom, an actual murderer.

Gossip was always in demand- and it was requested more than freshly churned butter at a baked potato festival. But you still needed Ransom to have a favorable place in the readers’ minds (and pockets) before an unflattering spotlight hit him again.

Your rubber-gloved fingers flicked over the corners of the name-changed admirers’ pages. It was always one endless compliment after another in these letters; one poorly executed sexual offer or boastful promise given to Ransom.

You learned while reviewing them for his first book, it was safer to don disposable gloves. Some fans wrote Ransom with a little too much fervor, believing their cheap Tinkerbell perfume and glitter-covered bodily fluids splashed across the pages would catch his interest. But all it really did was make you break out in hives, and you definitely didn't want to remember what some of his more colorful hate mail was coated with.

“If I see any more letters dotted with a heart, I might puke,” you said before snapping the gloves off and falling back against the chair.

“Then stop drinking. That bourbon’s too good for you to waste… or mix,” Ransom added with a grimace.

“I only mix your expensive hooch because it annoys you. Just like you know that your shoes on the furniture annoy me.”

With a smirk, Ransom locked eyes with you and roughly dragged the heel of his shoe across the leather cushion.

“God, you’re a shit person. You always carry the old, expensive stuff in a flask?”

“I wouldn’t have to bootleg if you were a better hostess,” Ransom countered before theatrically stretching and dragging his heel along the cushion again. “How come you never offer me refreshments?”

“Because I don’t want you here any longer than necessary. I always hope dehydration will run you off quicker.”

Ransom laughed dryly at your honesty, “Yet, you have no problem accepting mine.”

“Wanted to see what it’s like to suck other people dry.”

“Oh, kitten,” Ransom propped himself on his elbows and arched his eyebrow. “No need to wonder, we both know you’re great at sucking.”

“Get fucked,” you mumbled, turning back to the layout boards to compare the best cover photo.

“Why do you think I came here today? We could have just handled this over the phone.”

You ignored his taunts as you crossed and uncrossed your ankles, trying not to think about the previous run-ins you suffered by his talented hands. You had always been the definition of professionalism until he reemerged in your life. Now, he was the splinter under a nail if you ever felt one.

And unfortunately for your resistance, he was extremely blessed in delivering sarcasm and orgasms. Two of your favorite things. Despite the years apart, you two easily fell back into your old college bed-sharing ways. The muscle memory of you squeezing around his length was too tempting to ignore.

Ransom’s eyes rested on you as he reclined across the couch again. It wasn’t the best piece of furniture, but it was beyond better than his bed at the minimum security prison. He tried to remind himself of the time he spent there, whenever his old prince and the pea side threatened to resurface.

Knocking back the last of his glass, Ransom nodded for you, “Come here.”

You scoffed at his attempt to order you around, “Not yet, still trying to decide which cover looks better for the series.”

“I look better- Come. Here.”

“Not. Yet.”

You kept your eyes trained on your papers when you heard him huff and walk towards you.

Ransom swiveled your chair away from the desk and leaned over to crowd your vision, “I’ve been looking forward to us. It’s been too long since our last meeting.”

“Us?”

“This,” he corrected quickly.

His grip tightened around your desk chair. The veins along his forearms became even more visible when he squeezed the armrests. Ransom’s rich cologne saturated the air between you and caused your fingers to curl around the hem of your dress.

Ransom’s eyes ran over you, slowly taking you in. He paid attention to how your breath sped up slightly when he focused on your neck and the low collar of your dress. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip when the skirt of your dress ruffled when you squeezed your thighs.

He pushed himself off your chair and moved behind you. Cool air hit you, breaking you out of your Ransom-induced haze as you fell backwards with your chair.

Opening your eyes, Ransom towered over you after swiftly tilting your office chair as far back as it would go, and grinned down at you, “I can smell how much you missed me.”

You scoffed at him and tried regaining as much of the upper hand as possible, while your feet stuck out in the air, “Save the poetry and tell me you locked the door.”

“When I entered...” Ransom slowly pulled the words into a double meaning. No doubt referencing the last meeting you had with him, when your back was pressed against the office door and your legs were wrapped around him. He refused to flip the lock until he was buried deep inside you.

Ransom rounded the side of your chair, while keeping it slightly tilted back with one arm. He moved his free hand over your thigh and flipped the bottom of your dress up. It didn’t take much teasing for your thighs to part for his long fingers.

You rested your head back, the feel of his smooth palm circling along your inner thighs caused your panties to dampen.

“You look so fucking pretty,” Ransom bent over you, his breath tickling the side of your face. “Biting your lip like that, giving me access like this.”

You hummed under his touch, his fingers graced over the wet spot on your lace panties. You closed your eyes tighter as he circled your covered nub, sparks flying up your belly.

“As soon as I entered your office,” Ransom sucked in his breath when he felt you press your core against his palm. “Seeing you behind that desk, I couldn’t wait to also ent-”

You opened one eye, taking in how Ransom licked his lips as you rubbed yourself down along his hand, “Don’t ruin this by saying some stupid comment of entering me like you did this office-”

Rolling his eyes, he cut you off with a hard kiss. Against your better judgement, your hands reached out and tugged him down to you. The warmth of his chest blanketed you again as you tilted back further.

Ransom licked the shell of your ear, “Why do you always try to ruin the mood?”

His question caught you off guard for a moment, the truth rushing to the forefront of your brain. Because I don’t want to grow real feelings for you again.

“Don’t act like you were saying anything good,” you pushed him back as you rose from the chair. “Get on the desk.”

Ransom narrowed his eyes at your short command, he was about to point out how you dodged his question until he saw your panties drop from under your dress. Lace pooled around your ankles before kicking them away with your heels. When he looked back up, he saw you waiting on him to do as he was told.

Unzipping, he pushed his slacks past his thighs and sat on the edge of your desk with his boxers still on.

“Move back further, Ransom. If I’m going to ride you, I don’t want to fall.”

Leaning further back on the desk, he groaned at your words as old images played in his head. You saw his dick twitch at your words, the cotton material tenting and bunching. The thought of you straddling him made his breath hitch. You didn’t make him wait long as your thighs trapped him under you. Your necklace hit his torso, causing him to inhale sharply.

Pulling the bottom of your dress behind you, you gave your next orders to Ransom, “Take yourself out.”

He obeyed, quickly freeing his erection from his boxers.

“Good. Now, stroke yourself.”

Ransom’s hand froze, fingers stiffened at your words before he regained control and tightened his fist around the base of his cock. He wept with precum as you watched him run his grip up and down his hard length. You hummed in appreciation and slowly covered your hand over his, helping to move him along his shaft.

“Hold still,” you ordered before rising on your knees to slide yourself down onto him.

Ransom’s loud groans filled the office as your muscles squeezed around him.

You loosely rested your hand over his mouth, “Door’s locked, but you still have to be quiet, Ransom.”

“You can’t expect me to not appreciate you, kitten,” his words licked your fingers.

“Appreciate quietly,” you hissed, dropping yourself harder down onto him.

Ransom purposely moaned louder as he grabbed your ass and pulled you closer. He palmed you greedily and bucked himself up into you, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Dragging your hands down his buttoned chest, your nails dug into the high thread count of his shirt as you ground your hips harshly onto him, “Shut up and fuck me. Quietly-”

SMACK

Holding back your gasp, you bit your cheek from the slap Ransom just gifted your ass cheek. Snapping your head down, he smirked up at you. 

He massaged the sting away as his fingers dipped between your cheeks. His fingertips traced your hole as he palmed your ass again. This time you did gasp loudly.

“What?” He asked too innocently, grabbing your thighs.

Falling forward, you pressed your weight down on Ransom’s chest and earned a surprised grunt out of him, “Stop playing around. I’m too close.”

Ransom glared at your tone. There was an odd feeling stirring in his stomach. Then it plummeted. His eyes widened at the realization, he didn’t like the idea of you actually being annoyed with him.

He hissed your name while squeezing your hips, “Kiss me.”

His demand surprised you both, your hips faltering for a moment before you regained your rhythm. Ransom shook away the shock of his own request after you moaned yourself into another delicious grind.

“Don’t go sweet on me now,” you joked, your back arched away from him. Your mouth fell open when he slowly dragged his cock and snapped himself back up into you. “Fuck... just like that, Ransom. Just... a little more.”

Your heavy necklace swayed back and forth between your bodies, a pendulum moving with each dip and hip roll. It pulled the collar of your dress down lower, teasing Ransom with more views of your chest.

He drank in the sight of you. Pulling the bottom of your dress up, his gaze rolled down your torso and settled to where you were both connected. Your silky thighs over his, squeezing him like a vice as you slid up and down. The sounds escaped you as you rode him, making him ache with unfamiliar need. There was a pull in his chest as he saw his cock disappear in you.

“I said,” Ransom moved his hand up along your dress and over your breast. His thumb rubbed your nipple before pinching, “kiss me.”

Ignoring him, you rocked fast. You could feel the slick running down your thighs, no doubt rolling off Ransom and onto your desk. You bounced faster, disregarding his requests for a kiss as you chased your release.

Tired of being ignored, Ransom reached over your desk and grabbed a container of pens. Not heeding your warning to remain silent, he chucked the container across the room.

Your eyes jerked open at the sound of the crash. You latched onto Ransom’s forearms and he steadied your hips to keep you from falling off him and the desk.

“You are an asshole, Drysdale,” you seethed under your breath. “If someone checks on that noise, this is over.”

You clenched your muscles around his length for emphasis. Fuck him for trying to take away an orgasm that was so near. You doubled down and tried refocusing your attention back on your needs.

Ransom couldn’t believe you. He couldn't believe you’d threaten to take this away from him. Always so damn difficult, why wouldn’t you just fucking kiss him? More importantly, why was it so damn important to him that you did?

“Accident,” he challenged coolly.

Your mouth thinned at his lame excuse, “Don’t pull that affluenza crap with me. You knew what you were doing.”

Annoyed with himself and you, he sat up abruptly. Pulling you closer, he sneered at your shock.

Alarmed by his sudden movements, you adjusted yourself quickly, “What are you-”

“Sass me one more time and you will regret it,” Ransom was done being ignored. He stilled your hips, his hold tightening and causing you to whine when you couldn't create any friction. You were sure there’d be fingerprinted bruises on your skin tomorrow.

A dry chuckle of irritation sprang out of yourself, you were done being denied an orgasm. Your annoyance boiled over, promising yourself you’d get the release you were owed.

Grabbing his shirt collar, you knocked your nose against his, “What do you want?!”

“Fucking kiss me already!” Ransom boomed- angry at himself for wanting such a stupid connection, angry at you for being a bitch about it.

Shooting your hand across your desk, you snatched a fan’s crumpled love letter. Without another thought, you smashed the admirer’s note into Ransom’s face and pushed it past between his lips.

Shoving him back down on your desk with one hand, your fingers curled around the paper and the inside of his jaw with your other.

The letter grew wet under your fingertips and began tearing in his mouth. Stale perfume hit his tongue as you greedily rocked into him.

You rode yourself up and down his length as your grip tightened around his jaw, “Just focus on the fucking, Ransom.”

[kitkatd7]

Somethin New

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: You and Steve were no strangers to trying new things in the bedroom, but when he suggested something a little... different you were nervous- and excited. 

Warnings: Spelling/grammar issues, cursing, NSFW, smut, sort of public? Public teasing/fingering (m/f receiving) 

Word Count: 742

A/N: So I randomly thought of this yesterday, I don't know if it's good because I never write smut. This is for @saiyanprincessswanie 500 followers writing challenge! Congratulations hun you deserve them all and more!!!

-------------------------------------------------------

Sitting down next to Steve at the Avengers dinner table, you glance around at your adopted family as you all prepare to eat. You shift uncomfortably in your seat. As everyone begins eating their steak you jolt slightly next to Steve, the remote-controlled vibrator on your clit jumping to life. He smirks at you knowingly, the controller concealed in his jean pocket. You ignore the sensation and the rapidly growing wetness in your panties, instead starting to eat your salad. You stifle a moan, instead biting down on your cheek when Steve turns it to a higher level. Several minutes later you're completely soaked, the vibrations driving you crazy as you silently beg Steve with your eyes. 

"So when's the next mission?" He asks Tony, ignoring you. His Captain's voice turns you on even more. 

You whimper, biting your lip as he turns it up again, still talking to Tony and not even looking at you. 

You were so focused on the maddening but too light pleasure between your thighs that you jump slightly when you hear Natasha's voice, "Are you okay? You look a little pale," She says, giving you a confused look. 

You force yourself to take a deep breath as you try to focus on something other than your throbbing clit. "I don't feel very well," you tell her honestly, your attempt to shift your focus failing as the vibration becomes unbearable- And Steve's large, warm hand creeping up your thigh definitely wasn't helping. 

"Should you go lay down?" She asks, sounding very much like a mother hen. 

You shake your head meekly. "I'll be okay." Trying to convince her or yourself it's impossible to say. 

Natasha gives you a 'you don't look okay' look but shifts her attention and starts talking to Clint. Steve leans in next to your ear, his beard brushing your neck deliciously as you clench your thighs together hopelessly. "Do you need to cum, baby girl?" He whispers, low enough that no one would hear. The thought that only you two know what's happening further soaks you. 

You let out a small whimper that he feels more than hears and he feels himself grow hard in his jeans.

His fingers creep under your skirt beneath the table, moving your panties to the side and grazing your folds insanely gently, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the wetness gathered there. You bite your lip harshly, trying to keep from moaning obscenely. You're so close. You groan in frustration when he pulls his hand away. "Don't you dare cum," he growls in the back of his throat. "If you cum now it'll be the last time for a month," he threatens, his words making you shudder as his fingers return.

You drop your fork, face reddening at the intense pleasure he's now providing you.  

A new light dances in your eyes as an idea washes over you. 

As everyone remains caught up talking amongst themselves, you run your finger over Steve's thigh seductively before receiving a warning glare. 

Ignoring his expression, you run your fingertips over his strained length, smirking slightly when he muffles a groan.  

You palm him teasingly as he scowls at you, his hand circling your wrist and stopping your movements. "Stop being such a fucking tease," he growls, eyes storm grey. 

"You're the tease," you retort, eyes defiant.

“Then tell me what you want. I’m not a mind reader, babygirl.”

"I want you to take me back to our room and fuck me til I can't walk," you say through gritted teeth, trying to keep your face neutral.

His body tenses at your words and it takes all his willpower not to bend you over the table and take you right there. In retaliation to your words, he turns up the vibrator again, the sensation becoming unbearable to the point that you dig your fingernails into his thickly corded thighs.

"Don't say anything you'll regret, darling.' His Brooklyn accent becoming stronger. 

"I said fuck me, Captain." 

"Be careful what you wish for." You hear an underlying current of warning in his voice and lust glinting in his dark eyes at the use of his title. You gasp in surprise as he jerks you both to your feet, his hand still locked around your wrist tightly as he drags you down the hallway and into the elevator as everyone's shocked gaze follows you.  

You're going to get exactly what you wished for. 

-------------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!

[saiyanprincessswanie]

500 Follower Writing Challenge

2500 Follower Writing Challenge

3500 Follower Writing Challenge

A/N: Do NOT read if you are under 18 years old.

Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. 😊💜

I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps or third party sites. If you see my work anywhere other than MY Tumblr or AO3 then it was stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission as this is MY work. 🚫🚫

Moodboard by @fictional-affairs

[captainchrisstan]

My Leather Guy

Summary: Bucky has to make things right, even if it means losing you.

words: 1935

Warnings: none... a little bit of Smut... (but if you find any please let me know)

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader.

A/N: This was made with love for @saiyanprincessswanie​ !!! My prompt was “Nice ass” / “it´s all yours”

Hey guys! <3 my mother language is not English, so if there is any mistake please help me to improve. Also, my work is not allowed to be on other platforms. Just comment, like and reblog <3

Bucky kisses your lips for the last time to see you leave for the club stairs that lead straight to the rooms upstairs, with a sigh he turns around to see his best friend Steve and almost friend Tony at a table watching him expectantly.

Bucky knows their faces too well to know what they want answers to their questions, today would be the sixth time you've stayed with them in less than two weeks. The problem wasn't that you stayed, they loved you, the real problem was that you lied to your father who was also the leader of one of the New York City motorcycle clubs.

"I hope you got it right this time Bucky," Tony says as he brings his beer to his lips but stops halfway through. "That you stood in his driveway like a decent man" as the silence drags on Steve lets out a big sigh.

"He escaped out the window again?" Steve asks what Bucky nods to. "Bucky... I understand that you love her I went through the same thing with Natasha... the thing is we can't get into trouble now that they've agreed to ally themselves with us to corner the Hydra club"

"If it were up to me, I would have told his father by now." Bucky interrupts.

"Does her father beat her?" Tony asks, and the blonde looks at him expectantly.

"No! It's just that she doesn't want to disappoint him."

"Bucky, you're the best man in the club-"

"Steve I'm not saying that... It's because of his mother... since his mother died his dad has made sure he doesn't follow in his footsteps" Tony and Steve look expectantly at Bucky, waiting for answers. "That doesn't end up with a biker.”

"Oh God too late!" Tony says quickly as he grabs his leather jacket on the back of his chair and stands up. "Looks like the conversation is going to get sentimental so I'll see you tomorrow" and without further ado, Tony walks away from the door.

"Look Buck... if you want some advice... You'd better go to his father and tell him" Bucky opens his mouth to say something but Steve raises a hand "Let me finish please, Hydra has been up to our asses since they got to town, they have been trying to wipe out our business and theirs. If he finds out you're sneaking around with her daughter and goes crazy and finishes the deal; we'll be in danger, not just us as a club, but our partners as well"

A few minutes later Bucky thoughtfully climbs the stairs, what Steve was saying was true, he was putting the whole group, no, his family in danger with his selfishness and that could not continue to happen. When he got to the door of his room a soft humming could be heard through it, when he opened the door he found himself with y/n with his headphones lying on her stomach in bed with his back to the door, his pajama shorts barely covering his ass and he was wearing one of Bucky's t-shirts to sleep, closing the door to lean on it, Bucky simply watched his girlfriend and how much he was going to miss being with her once they told your father.

Feeling a change in the air y/n realizes that she is not alone, turning quickly in bed she sees her boyfriend leaning on the door, she smiles but her smile does not last long because of the look in Bucky's eyes. y/n knows that something is wrong.

"What's wrong, love?" she quickly gets out of bed to go to her boyfriend.

"We have to tell your father"  I knew that this day would come, I knew that the moment those words came out of Bucky's mouth their lives would have to go their separate ways forever. 

"Tomorrow we'll both go together, I promise," hugging Bucky around the neck and he's hugging her around the waist. "Would you kiss me?" one last time she thought 

Bucky's lips feel like feathers on the skin, they both know this could be goodbye and they would both make the most of it. Without rushing, they take off their clothes and throw them away so who knows which part of the room, when y/n's legs touch the bed he gently pushes it. Skin on skin meet and fireworks explode as the moaning fills every corner of the room.

In the large double bed, they try to calm their breaths, both have their heads full of possible scenarios of what could happen tomorrow, but in Bucky's head are the most tragic.

Little whispers of 'I love you' and 'I'll always be with you' fill the room until y/n's voice is interrupted by a yawn from her, Bucky puts one arm around her shoulders and draws her as close to his body as he can.

Bucky goes down the stairs with the little courage he has left in his body, when he sees the time on the wall clock he deduces that his father-in-law could be in the club's bar, without wasting any more time he goes to Steve to communicate his decision. This one is on the same table where he left it a few hours ago.

"Steve, I'm gonna go tell y/n's dad" Steve looks up from the documents to focus on Bucky.

"Give me 5 minutes and I can join you" with one hand on his shoulder Bucky stops his best friend.

"I don't think you understand me, Steve... I'll go alone," Steve looks at him not knowing what to do. It wasn't that they were afraid of Y/N's father, only that he was a man respected by many, almost a legend. "If I'm not back in three hours... you know what to do." Without saying anything else, Bucky hands Steve a sealed envelope with Y/N's name on it. Bucky always so dramatic thought Steve as he saw Bucky's figure coming out of the bar.

The road to the other side of New York was long and tense for Bucky, his Harley stopped just outside the Death and Co Bar as he took off his helmet hesitantly for a couple of seconds before grabbing what's left of his confidence and going in.

The place reeked of alcohol and cheap cigarettes, and the place was barely visible in the dim light of the tavern. In the distance, he could see a group of men in leather jackets with the symbol of the American flag on their backs. 

As he approached the group of men he could quickly make out the father of Y/n, with a soft cough by Bucky the men at the table stood still and quickly looked in Bucky's direction.

"But look who we have in this fucking place... Nothing more or less than the right hand of the famous captain", your father was looking bucky in the eye who wished he was 3 miles away from that place.

"I've come to talk to you, sir," Bucky mentally kicks himself, his voice must sound firm. "Alone." Without further ado, Jim "The King" stands up from the table with a head taller than Bucky. 

“Follow me”

As he leaves the bar Jim leans against the wall and pulls out a cigarette, Bucky is nervous, his hands are sweating and his breathing is labored.

"It's about my daughter, right?" Stunned Bucky doesn't know what to do or say so he just nods. "I've known all along," Bucky's soul leaves his body. "Ever since my Betty died and left me with the task of raising our daughter I always knew this day would come... I always knew you guys had something because Y/N is the spitting image of her mother, and she's not too quiet when she escapes out the window either" the latter brings a smile to Bucky's face. Jim takes his last breaths into the cigarette and drops it, putting it out with the sole of his shoes. "Your mother and I were doing the same thing you do... We were running away and lying to our parents... Come on son, let's go have some beers", without further ado Jim opens the door of the bar, Bucky perplexed, expecting everything but that, so he just follows him inside the establishment.

Two hours later Bucky finds himself saying goodbye to all the club members and heading for his bike, Jim is waiting for him at the door.

"Hey, son," unprepared Bucky feels like the right side of his face is hit with something, "This is just a precaution, okay?. If I see my daughter crying over you, the beating will be much bigger." When Bucky comes out of his trance he just nods and pats his shoulder. "Perfect!, have a good trip boy" the door of the place closes and Bucky throws a spit to throw the blood in his mouth, touching his jaw he realizes that Jim didn't manage to break anything, fortunately, but he won't be able to put the helmet on because of the swelling that is forming on his face. Was too good to be true

Upon entering the bar Bucky can see that the place is almost dead without counting Natasha who is cleaning the bar and Steve leaning on this flirting with her. 

"Shit Bucky I think you lost the fight man!" Natasha tries to hold back the laughter, but she can't and Steve just shakes his head.

"Yeah, anyway... I'll see you guys in a little bit" walking up the stairs to Bucky's rooms doesn't stop thinking about how well the situation turned out, about Jim's reaction that he didn't grow up and that now they practically had a free hand so they wouldn't be hiding like two teenagers.

"What the fuck happened to your face, Bucky?!" Bucky had unwittingly entered the room and found y/n at the edge of the bed, wiping her eyes.

"I've gone to talk to your dad" without more y/n gets out of bed and throws Bucky by his wrist to the bathroom of the room, when Bucky enters he can see his reflection in the mirror, his cheekbone was already taking a purple color and his eye was swelling more and more without counting with the little cut under his eye, with a pressure in the chest y/n makes Bucky sit in the toilet while she takes out the first aid kit. 

A few seconds later she finds herself delicately touching her boyfriend's face with a wet cotton ball to get the dried blood out. A little sobbing gets Bucky out of his trance and he realizes that he's screwed up, with his hands he touches his girlfriend's naked legs to somehow comfort her.

"I didn't want the three of us to talk in case it got too big, I just wanted to protect you." He whispers

"Bucky, he's my dad, he wouldn't hurt me and you know it.

"The situation could have gotten dangerous and you know it," bucky sighs, "I just want to make things right... besides, your dad already knew about us."

"What?!" y/n stops wiping Bucky's face and waits expectantly for an answer.

"He said you weren't very quiet going out the window.”

"Oh, God... What a shame" they both laugh and the atmosphere relaxes a bit.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"I'd have to think about it a little bit more" playing bucky up his hands and grabbing his girlfriend's ass through his pajama shorts.

“Nice ass”

“It’s all yours, baby”

[nekoannie-chan]

The best mission

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word count: 1096 words.

Summary: You were trapped in a security house…wait…what plot? Doesn’t matter.

Warnings: Smut…plot? What plot? This fic is +18

A/N: This is my entry to the @saiyanprincessswanie ‘s 500 Follower Writing Challenge with the quote #11:

“What are you doing? We could get caught!”

“Isn’t that part of the excitement?”

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog. 

The mission had been a success, however, the problems began when you were in a safe house because of the snow and it was night, any form of communication to the base failed, it was not feasible for them to leave in the vehicle either, the amount of snow was too much, walking was not an option either, the best thing was to wait until it was the day to see how you solved the problem.

"It's not that cold," said Steve.

You and Natasha looked down at him with an annoyed look.

"Sure, you're a super-soldier," Nat and you said in unison.

Steve sighed as he kept trying to light the wood in the fireplace, it was better to keep quiet, he didn't want you to take him out into the snow either. No one was wearing a jacket because it wasn't supposed to snow and the mission wouldn't take that long.

Natasha, Bruce, and Clint went to sleep in different rooms of the house.

"Doll, sleep, it was been a difficult day," Steve told you, kissing your forehead.

Steve was supposed to have stood guard in case the conditions get worse, you lay down on the bed, however, you couldn't fall asleep, Bruce's snoring was heard, you got up and carefully stepped out into the hallway, Nat was asleep as well as Clint, Bruce too, so you went down to where Steve was.

"Is something wrong?" He asked when he saw you.

"No, nothing, I just couldn't sleep," you replied, trying to sound innocent.

You hugged him from behind, while you were lying down you had an idea, you ran your tongue over his neck and his hands over his chest.

“What are you doing? We could get caught!”

“Isn’t that part of the excitement?”

"Stop, if we continue we will wake them up," Steve said a little upset.

"You just have to be quiet," you whispered with a smile.

You sat on his lap and lick on his lobe while you continued stroking his chest, he was going to say something again, but you interrupted him.

"If someone sees us and asks, I can say that I am looking for a transmitter hidden in your body," you said.

He laughed softly, he just couldn't refuse, he took your face with one of his big hands and kissed you, now you changed position on his thighs, he loved that you were up.

With a quick movement, you took off the top of the suit, captured your lips with his, and bit the bottom so he could introduce his tongue.

He easily unbuttoned your bra and took it off, still kissing you, then he took her head in his hands, slid them up to your breasts, first with cupped hands he stroked them and then pinched your nipples, kissed them over and over again; he closed his mouth around your nipple and sucked on it fiercely.

You arched your back and began to move even without removing the rest of the clothes. You managed to put your hand in his pants and began to caress his member.

He kept kissing you to suppress the moan, he began to despair, he needed more, and his clothes began to squeeze too much. Desperately he removed the bottom, you had wet sex, he began to caress your clitoris and then he inserted his fingers into your vagina.

He could no longer contain himself so he took out his cock, settled you back on top, and penetrated you. You felt like he did, it felt so good that you couldn't suppress the moan that caused his actions.

"Shh, don't make so much noise or you will discover us," he said

In response, you kissed him and he kept ramming you, again and again, holding your butt with his strong arms and sometimes your thighs, you wrapped his torso with your legs so that it was deeper and you moved your hips, each time it seemed more difficult not to emit any sound not even being too effusive so that the chair won't move or it will make some noise and wake up others, but you also didn't want others to listen to them because you knew you would bother them for a long time and worst of all, you would tell Tony and that it would mean you would be the taunt for the rest of the year.

A few minutes later the orgasm came, you dropped down on top of him trying to catch your breath.

"I have to admit it was the best sex of my life," you whispered still on top of him, resting your head on his shoulder.

"We have more sofas at the compound... just a suggestion," Steve muttered.

"We'll have to prove it when we get back ... I just hope Stark doesn't have cameras everywhere."

"First we checked and then we decided."

You laughed, then you saw the time on the clock on the wall.

"Maybe I should go try to sleep, before ...”

"Before someone wakes up and discovers us," Steve finished the sentence.

He helped you get dressed and you went to sleep, you breathed easy when no one came out of any of the rooms to ask questions, you probably hadn't even realized what had happened a few minutes earlier in the room.

Steve remained on guard, he saw through the window that the snow had stopped falling, perhaps the next day you would have no problem leaving.

The next morning after you woke up you noticed the bruises Steve had left on your thighs, you smiled, and they had been worth it.

"Good morning," you greeted when you saw the others in the kitchen.

Clint had prepared breakfast with some of the things that were in the house, you knew that you were not expired because periodically the Organization was in charge of supplying and ordering everything necessary for when one of its agents needed it on missions.

"You know, last night I thought I heard some... weird sounds," Natasha said suddenly.

You and Steve avoided seeing each other so as not to appear guilty in any way.

"Surely it was the snow, it looks like it was a big snowfall," Bruce replied.

"No, I'm not sure it was Banner's snoring," Clint said.

“Hey!”

You all laughed.

“Speaking of snow… we won't have any trouble leaving, will we?” You questioned trying to change the subject.

"No, none, I took it all out of the way before you woke up," Steve replied.

The two gave each other a knowing look. 

[donutloverxo]

Sugary 4k challenge

Banner is from Lover's album cover

I haven't hit 4k followers yet but I was just too excited for this! Hopefully it's okay.

I love reading stories about sugar baby/daddy relationship so I thought why not a challenge with that theme! What constitutes as a sugar relationship is totally up to you. The sugar aspect of it can be subtle or overt. It doesn't have to include a daddy kink if that's not your thing.

Some rules -

Smut writers and characters must be 18+. No incest, toilet stuff, bestiality, etc. Noncon and dubcon are welcome but please use proper warnings.

All fics must be reader inserts/oc. Your reader/oc can be paired with Chris Evans or any of his characters. RPF is welcome.

Minimum of 400 words. Original works only please! If you decide to make it a series make sure to tag me in all the parts.

You do not have to be following me. Tag me in your post and use the tag #sugary4kchallenge. If your fic doesn't get a reblog in 2 days please dm me.

Deadline is 30th April '21. Let me know if you need an extension.

Please add a ‘keep reading’ after the first 300 words or so if your fic is more than 500 words.

I reserve the right to not reblog a fic.

Maximum of 5 stories per writer.

Tagging some writer under the cut. No pressure ❤

@nekoannie-chan @navybrat817 @anika-ann @andybarberslxt @angrybirdcr @angrythingstarlight @avintagekiss24 @awhitewolfandhisvibraniumshield @queennatbat @quietmyfearswith @whohaveibeenletting @worksby-d @whateveriwant @river-soul @the-soot-sprite @the-soulofdevil @uncafeavecbarnes @iwantutobehapppier @ozarkthedog @our-marvel-universe @speechlessxx @drabblewithfrannybarnes @firefly-in-darkness @geniedetails @holylulusworld @honeyloverogers @holy-stevie @holacia2 @hevans-angel @kellyn1604 @kaminorogers @kidney9-9 @xbuchananbarnes

@capsameriicanass @bucky-the-thigh-slayer @buckyownsmylife @bluemusickid @blackmissfrizzle @mianorth @syntheticavenger @nakedrogers @sunstalgia @suntrastar @sunflowercaptian @brooklyns-boys @the-iceni-bitch @sultrygoblin @slothspaghettiwrites @afriendlyblackhottie @sweeterthanthis @kleohoneyao3 @saiyanprincessswanie @starlightcrystalline​ @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @awesomerextyphoon @ironlady1993​ @steebsbabygirl​  @sweeterthanthis​ @selfcarecap​ @malloryharris​ @americasass91​ @smediumsmeatbae​ @cloudystevie​ @fangirlovestuff​ @just-one-ordinary-fangirl​ @chrissquares​@honeygingergemini​ @smutsonian​ @justagirlinafandomworld​

[kitkatd7]

Broken Hearts and Whiskey

Summary: Bucky’s not the same anymore. He doesn’t spend time with you at all, or keep his promises. And your done with it.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, lots of angst, drinking, my grammar errors because I didn’t fully edit

Dialogue Prompt #19. “Please! You have to let me make this right.” 

Dialogue Prompt #7: "I can't keep being your second choice, not when you're my first." 

(Prompts will be in bold)

Word Count: 1,654

A/N: This is for @imma-new-soul‘s 550 Follower Writing Challenge and @buckys-other-punk 500 Writing Challenge!! I hope y’all like it! Sorry it’s pretty sad and the ending isn’t as good as it could be :( Also this was inspired by the songs ‘Die From a Broken Heart by Maddie & Tae and Different For Girls by Dierks Bentley' Also there are a few Criminal Minds references in here😂

Masterlinst of Masterlists || Marvel Masterist || Series Masterist || part 2 

------------------

“See you later!” You call over your shoulder at Natasha and Wanda as you unlock the door to your apartment, coming home from a very successful shopping spree. Walking into your home you toe-off your shoes at the door, setting down your keys and purse. “Babe, I’m home!” You sing, excited to finally get some time with Bucky after him being gone on a mission for three weeks. “Babe?” You ask, walking into the kitchen, setting down your multiple shopping bags and taking in the empty space. Where the hell is he? After searching the bedroom, living room, even the bathroom and still coming up empty, you look to see if you missed any calls. Nope. He was supposed to be here you fume inwardly as you press the speed dial photo; both of you together at a carnival, you smiling brightly as he places a kiss on your cheek sweetly.

It goes straight to voicemail. 5 times. Now you're not even mad… just disappointed in him. He promised. On try number 6 you’re just done. “Hey, it’s me. Listen, so I don’t know where you are but- just don’t bother coming home tonight, okay? I had plans but- never mind, it doesn’t matter that much. I’ll see you later.”  Pressing the red button you throw your phone on the couch before changing into something more comfortable. It wouldn’t be so frustrating that he wasn’t here if it was a one time thing- But this is the fifth time he hasn’t come home to spend time with you after a mission.

Plopping on the couch, you press start on something mindless that you aren’t going to watch anyway before checking your phone for- well. really anything.

1 new message

Unlocking your phone quickly, you open it in high hopes, only to see Sam’s name appear and your face falls. 

Sam: Bucky said you tried to call. Is it important?

You: No… just we had plans.

You confide, knowing Sam will understand.

Sam: Oh shit. Okay, want me to tell him to come home?

You: No. It’s fine.

Sighing, you toss your phone on the other end of the couch, throwing your head back in newfound anger. Asshole. He saw your calls and didn’t even pick up the damn phone. After a year of dating, you at least deserved that. 

------------

“Hey this is y/n, I can’t come to the phone right now cuz I’m out livin’ my life! Leave it at the beep.” He hears your all too familiar voicemail through the speaker. He had helped you come up with it, you hadn’t known what to put on it. He kicks himself, knowing you weren’t actually out living your life, just dodging his calls. Not that he blamed you- He deserved it and he knew it. Calling again, he’s not surprised when he hears your voicemail again.

“Hey… Um, listen, I know I was supposed to be at your place after the mission… I just wanted to unwind with the guys and- Shit. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think you would mind that much, I’ll be over in a bit to make it up to you, okay?” He leaves the message and ends the call before starting his car and driving towards your apartment, guilt heavy in his stomach.

You listen to his voicemail over and over, a strange mix of rage and sorrow weighing on your heart.

Tears roll slowly down your cheeks silently as you lay curled up in a defensive ball on your bed, trying to block out the unmistakable sound of Bucky begging you to open the front door; “Babe, please open the door,” He says, fist resting gently against the frame. “I’m sorry- really, really sorry. Please let me in and we can talk about it,” He sighs, resting his head against the door in defeat. He could break the lock and go in. You both know that. But he wouldn’t do that to you- All that would do is make you fear him and that’s the last thing he wants. He slides his back down the wall til he’s sitting on the floor next to your door, his elbows on his knees and his hands in his hair; Tears gathering in his lashes. He really messed up this time.

----------

The next day you drag yourself out of bed, trying to forget last night and all the tears you shed. After a shower and breakfast, you head out the door for a coffee run before work. You stop in your tracks when you see Bucky still sitting there, eyes red from lack of sleep and regret written all over his face. He jumps up when you walk out, keys in hand, the door closing behind you. “What are you doing here?” 

“I- I came to apologize,” he murmurs, looking in your eyes.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you bite, moving to step around him but stopping when he steps to block your path.

“Bucky, I’m going to be late for work,” you say coldly, glaring at him. “Move out of the way.”

“Please doll, just let me expla-”

Huffing, you roll your eyes. “I understand perfectly, James.” You watch as he flinches a little at the use of his first name. You only use it when your really mad or really happy, and it isn’t the latter right now. “You were too busy with your beer buddies to come see your girlfriend after being gone for three weeks, but what’s new? It’s been like this for months. I guess it was naive of me to expect something else this time.” You shoulder past him as he stares at you; dumbfounded. Tears gather in your eyes as you make your way to your car in the rain. Your almost there when you feel a large hand on your arm and hear your name being whispered. You turn around and look up into his stormy eyes. You always loved his eyes- They’re always so bright and big and- Now is not the time to be thinking about his stupidly gorgeous eyes.

“Please! You have to let me make this right,” he whispers, tears forming in his eyes as well, mixing with the raindrops rolling down his face and dampening is hair. 

“Bucky…” You sigh, pulling your arm out of his grasp gently. “I don’t think you can fix this. I can't keep being your second choice, not when you're my first." You climb into your car as he stares at you as you pull out of the parking lot. He sinks to the ground on his knees, not caring that his clothes are practically soaked, or that someone might think he looks crazy. None of that matters- because your gone. His girl. Gone. He can’t breathe. The pressure weighs heavy in lungs as all the air is pushed from them and his heart shatters. It’s all he can do to draw a ragged breathe between sobs.

---------------------

You manage to hold yourself together until you pull into the starbucks parking lot. And then you totally loose it; Tears and mascara mix together and run down your cheeks as you sob into your steering wheel. It feels like your heart is being torn out of your chest. Bucky was the best thing that ever happened to you… and deep down you had feared something like this would happen, but you didn’t think it actually would. You loved him- And now he was gone. 

You trek into Walmart, heading straight for the junk food isle, not caring that you look like an absolute mess. Grabbing some much needed chocolate, chips, cookies and other coping foods, you check out, starting to cry again when the cashier gives you a pitiful look on your way out. 

Stumbling into your apartment, you throw your bags on the kitchen counter before grabbing your desired snacks and tossing them on your bed. You pull on sweatpants and one of Bucky’s hoodies, sending an ache of longing through your chest. Even changing clothes feels like more effort than you could possibly muster but you somehow manage before crawling into bed and turning on reruns of Friends before you start crying again. After 2 bags of chocolate, a bag of Doritos, a burger and french fries you grabbed on the way home, you still feel like absolute shit. Maybe this is just how it will be- Unable to get over him, unable to move on. Eventually you fall asleep from exhaustion, tear stains and left-over makeup on your face and Bucky’s pillow clutched against your chest. 

------------

Bucky ambles into the bar, sliding onto a stool with sullen eyes, ordering a shot of vodka before mumbling “Keep em coming.” 

Throwing his head back, he grimaces as the bitter liquid burns its way down his throat. He knows he can’t get drunk but he’s willing to try. Anything to stop feeling like this.

The old barkeep leans on the bar behind him, looking at Bucky with an evaluating stare. 

“What was her name?” He questions gently after a moment of silence.

“Wha- How did you know?” Bucky looks up in surprise and pain, his forearms resting on the bar, holding another shot.

“Son, you can’t hide the look of love gone wrong.”

Tossing back another, Bucky looks in the shot glass like it holds all the answers before whispering your name, his voice breaking. “Did you ever love someone?” He asks brokenly.

The older man chuckles lightly at this. “I did, still do.” He holds up his left hand as proof.  “Do you wanna know the secret to love?” He asks, stepping closer.

“Why not, it’s not like I could lose anything else,” Bucky says dryly, taking yet another shot.

“Sometimes love doesn’t last and you have to let it go… but sometimes you have to fight for it. And it’s up to you to decide which you’re gonna do. So which is it?”

-----------------------

I hope you liked it! please let me know what you think!! 

Send an ask if you would like to be added to a taglist!

Permanent tag list: (OPEN)

@lovesmesomehiddles @saiyanprincessswanie @kind-sober-fullydressed @remibarnes22 @starspangledseb @angelinathebook @star-spangled-beard-burn @itsunclebucky @teenagereadersciencenerd @chaotic-fae-queen @bugsbucky @cap-n-stuff

Crackheads:

@buckys-other-punk @hermionesalvatore84 @chaoticpete @cheeky-foxx @babygurlbarnes @msgreenverse @maddeningmentalmess @mmm-tatre-tots @js3639 @peterpanfromlemonland @bonky-and-steeb @c-emma098 @bonky-and-steeb @imaspecialpersonwhoneedshelp 

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Ooh, ooh. Can I join your challenge??? I’m late I know. But Bucky with the prompt ‘After all this time? Always’ 💕💕💕💕

Absolutely 💜💜 it’s yours. I can’t wait to read it

[nekoannie-chan]

La mejor misión

Pareja: Steve Rogers X Lectora.                

Palabras: 1042 palabras.

Sinopsis: Estabas atrapado en una casa de seguridad... Espera... ¿qué trama? No importa.

Advertencias: Smut… ¿trama? ¿Qué trama? Este fic es +18

N/A: Esta es mi entrada para SaiyanPrincessSwanie 500 Follower Writing Challenge con el diálogo #11:

“¿Qué estás haciendo? ¡Podrían atraparnos!”

“¿No es parte de la emoción?”

No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien. DISCLAIMER:Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.

Otros lugares donde publico: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

Si te gusto por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.

La misión había sido un éxito sin embargo los problemas comenzaron cuando se quedaron varados en la casa de seguridad por culpa de la nieve y era de noche, cualquier forma de comunicación hacia la base fallaba, tampoco era viable que salieran en el vehículo, la cantidad de nieve era demasiada, caminar tampoco era una opción, lo mejor era que esperaran a que fuera de día para ver como solucionaban el problema.

—No hace tanto frío —comentó Steve.

Natasha y tú bajaron la vista hacia él para dirigirle una mirada molesta.

—Claro, eres un súper-soldado —dijeron al unísono Nat y tú.

Steve suspiró mientras seguía intentando prender la leña de la chimenea, era mejor que se quedara callado, no quería tampoco que ustedes lo sacaran a la nieve. Nadie llevaba chamarra porque se suponía que no debía de nevar y la misión no les llevaría tanto tiempo.

Natasha, Bruce y Clint se fueron a dormir en diferentes habitaciones de la casa.

—Duerme muñeca, ha sido un día difícil —te dijo Steve dándote un beso en la frente.

Se suponía que Steve se había quedado haciendo guardia por si las condiciones empeoraban, te acostaste en la cama, sin embargo no te podías dormir, se escuchaba los ronquidos de bruce, te levantaste y con cuidado te asomaste al pasillo, Nat estaba dormida así como Clint, bruce obviamente también así que bajaste hasta donde estaba Steve.

— ¿Pasa algo? —te preguntó al verte.

—No, nada, sólo no podía dormir —respondiste tratando de sonar inocente.

Lo abrazaste por la espalda, mientras estabas acostaba se te había ocurrido una idea, pasaste tu lengua por su cuello y las manos por su pecho.

— ¿Qué estás haciendo? ¡Podrían atraparnos!

— ¿No es parte de la emoción?

—Stop, si continuamos vamos a despertarlos —dijo Steve un poco alterado.

—Sólo hay que ser silenciosos —susurraste con una sonrisa.

Te sentaste en su regazo y mordisqueaste su lóbulo mientras seguías acariciando su pecho, él iba a decir algo de nuevo, pero lo interrumpiste.

—Si alguien nos ve y pregunta, puedo decir que estoy buscando un trasmisor escondido en tu cuerpo —dijiste.

Rio bajito, simplemente no podía negarse, tomó tu rostro con una de sus grandes manos y te besó, ahora cambiaste de posición y te pusiste a horcadas sobre sus muslos, a él le encantaba que tú estuvieras arriba.

Con un movimiento rápido te quitaste la parte superior del traje, capturó tus labios con los de él y mordió el inferior para poder introducir su lengua.

Con facilidad desabrochó tu sostén y te lo quitó, sin dejar de besarte, luego tomo la cabeza entre sus manos, las deslizó hasta tus pechos, primero con las manos ahuecadas los acarició y después pellizcó tus pezones, los besó una y otra vez; cerró la boca en torno a tu pezón y lo chupó con ferocidad.

Arqueaste la espalda y comenzaste a moverte aún sin quitarse el resto de la ropa. Te las ingeniaste para meter tu mano en su pantalón y comenzaste a acariciarle el miembro.

Él te siguió besando para reprimir el gemido, se comenzaba a desesperar, necesitaba más, la ropa comenzaba a apretarle demasiado. Con desesperación te quitó la parte inferior, tenías el sexo húmedo, te comenzó a acariciar el clítoris y luego introdujo los dedos en tu vagina.

Ya no podía contenerse así que sacó su polla, te acomodó de nuevo encima y te penetró. Sentiste como lo hacía, se sentía tan bien que no pudiste reprimir el gemido que te provocó sus acciones.

—Shh no hagas tanto ruido o nos van a descubrir —te dijo

Como respuesta lo besaste y él siguió embistiéndote una y otra vez sujetando tu trasero con sus fuertes brazos y en algunos momentos tus muslos, envolviste su torso con tus piernas para que fuera más profunda y moviste tus caderas, cada vez parecía más difícil no emitir ningún sonido ni siquiera ser demasiado efusivos para que el sillón no se moviera o causará algún ruido y despertarán a los demás, pero tampoco querían que los demás los escucharan porque sabrían que los  molestarían por un largo tiempo y lo peor, le contarían a Tony y eso significaría que serían la burla durante el resto del año.

Unos minutos después el orgasmo llegó, te dejaste caer encima de él tratando de recuperar el aliento.

—Debo admitir que ha sido el mejor sexo de mi vida —susurraste aún encima de él con la cabeza recargada en su hombro.

—En la base tenemos más sillones…sólo es un sugerencia —murmuró Steve.

—Tendremos que probarlo en cuanto regresemos…sólo espero que Stark no tenga cámaras por doquier.

—Primero checamos y luego decidimos.

Reíste, luego viste la hora en el reloj de la pared.

—Quizás debería ir a intentar dormir, antes de que…

—Antes de que alguien se despierte y nos descubra —terminó la frase Steve.

Él te ayudo a vestirte y te fuiste a dormir, respiraste tranquila cuando nadie salió de ninguno de las habitaciones a hacer preguntas, probablemente ni siquiera se habían dado cuenta de lo que había ocurrido unos minutos antes en la sala.

Steve siguió de guardia, vio por la ventana que la nieve había dejado de caer, quizás al día siguiente no tendrían problema alguno para poder irse.

A la mañana siguiente después de que te despertaste notaste los moretones que Steve había dejado en tus muslos, sonreíste, habían valido la pena.

—Buenos días —saludaste al ver a los demás en la cocina.

Clint había preparado el desayuno con algunas de las cosas que había en la casa, sabían que no estaban caducas porque periódicamente la Organización se encargaba de surtir y ordenar todo lo que fuera necesario para cuando alguno de sus agentes lo necesitara en las misiones.

—Saben, anoche me pareció escuchar unos ruidos un poco…raros —comentó de pronto Natasha.

Steve y tú evitaron verse para no parecer culpables de ninguna manera.

—Seguramente fue la nieve, parece que fue una gran nevada —respondió Bruce.

—No, no estoy seguro que fueron los ronquidos de Banner —dijo Clint.

— ¡Oye!

Todos rieron.

—Hablando de nieve…no tendremos ningún problema para irnos, ¿verdad? —cuestionaste tratando de cambiar el tema.

—No, ninguno, me encargué de quitar toda la del camino antes de que despertaran —contestó Steve.

Los dos se dieron una mirada de complicidad.

[captain-kelli]

Captain Kelli’s 500 Fam Writing Challenge

What is UP, fam? Somehow, I have managed to hit a milestone of 500 followers in 41 days and I am in utter and total shock. I could think of no better way to celebrate than by reading works by all of you.

The master list of works submitted

The details:

The theme: strong women (because I’m a sucker for them)

Due date: March 8, 2020 (International Women’s Day!!)

The tag: #captainkelli500fam

The rules:

You don’t have to be following me, but I’d love to have ya

Send me an ask with the prompt and character. Only two entries per prompt, first come first served. If we run out of prompts (which I doubt will happen), I’ll add more.

You are free to write for any Marvel character with a reader-insert, OC or just canon characters

Tag me when you’re done and use the challenge tag 

It can be a one-shot or a series, but it has to be the first chapter in the series.

Minimum of 500 words.

For the love of all that is holy, use the “Keep Reading” feature

Song and quote prompts don’t have to be written into the story, but the dialogue prompts (obviously) do

Please use warnings as they apply. If there are any triggers that are not in the warnings, I will not reblog, or include in the master list.

No underage/non-con. Everything else is fine.

Strikeout means it’s no longer available

Have fun! Share each other’s work! Be kind to one another!!

Prompts below the cut!

Dialogue Prompts:

“I could do it better! And in heels!” // @sebbbystaaan (Bucky Barnes) + @justlexia (Steve Rogers)

“I do not need a damn man by my side to do this.” // @stuckonjbbarnes (Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x OC) + @rogrsnbarnes

“If there’s one thing I’m willing to bet on, it’s myself.” // @brooklynbarrnes (Bucky Barnes) + @danijimenezv

“Oh, screw beautiful. I’m brilliant. If you want to appease me, compliment my brain.” // @xetoilerouge + @moonstruckbucky

"I think you can't wait for someone to fly underneath you and save your life. I think you have to save yourself." // @valkyriesryde (Steve Rogers) + @whistlingwillows​

“I’m a woman with a brain and reasonable ability.” // @heartopen-testify​ (Bucky Barnes) + @sunlightdances​ (Bucky Barnes)

"Who asked you to intervene? You think you have to rescue me? You think I can’t take care of myself?” // @tarithenurse​ (Thor) + @avintagekiss24​ (Stucky)

“I’m very prepared to live with the consequences of my actions. What I couldn’t live with were the consequences of my inactions.” // @justkending​ (Steve Rogers) + @redfoxwritesstuff​ (Loki)

“I am not the girl the guy gets at the end of the movie. I am not a fantasy. If you want me, earn me! Until then, we are done." // @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​ (Steve Rogers) + @saiyanprincessswanie​ (Bucky Barnes)

“When the door you have been knocking at finally swings open, you don’t ask why. You run through.” // @livyourextralife​ + @socie 

Quote Prompts:

She who is brave is free. // @capsized-heart​ + @crushedbyhyperbole​ (Thor)

She has been through hell. So believe me when I say, fear her when she looks into a fire and smiles. // @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ + @captain-rogers-beard​ (Wanda Maximoff)

Empowered women empower women. // @heli0s-writes​ + @the-unspoken-rule​

A well-read woman is a dangerous creature // @sugarfreecapsicle​ + @eyesfixedonthesun22​

There is no limit to what we, as women, can accomplish. // @panicfob​ (Bucky Barnes) + @maladaptive-ninja-returns​

Song Prompts:

You Don’t Own Me (Lesley Gore / SAYGRACE) // @softhairbarnes + @stopitchris

Formation (Beyoncé) // @allaboardthereadingrailroad

Girl on Fire (Alicia Keys) // @marquiswrites (Peter Parker) + @trashmenofmarvel (OC x Bucky Barnes)

Salute (Little Mix) // @avengerskeeper + @queens-n-roses (Bucky Barnes)

Truth Hurts (Lizzo) // @fic-for-fic-sake + @ussgallifreyfics (Steve Rogers)

Nightmare (Halsey) // @jbbarnesnnoble + @jbbuckybarnes​

Fighter (Christina Aguilera) // @sirenaurelix​ (Stucky) + @lesqui​ (Bucky Barnes)

So What (Pink) // @bitchassbucky (OC x platonic!Avengers) + @samsgoddess (OC x BFF!Natasha)

Woman (Ke$ha) // @blueberrybuchanan (Thor) + @kellyn1604

You Should See Me in a Crown (Billie Eilish) // @nacho-bucky + @perpetually-tuned-out

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Oh sweet baby Jeebus. 😳😍 This was absolutely hot. Love that asshole Lance. I would love to be his Omega 🥵 Thank you for participating in my writing challenge. You did amazing. 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻💜💜💜

Tuck and Roll, Omega

A fresh-out-of-college aspiring young gymnast asked specifically not to be trained under Lance Tucker. Apparently, the world is not a wish-granting factory. Will she be able to hide her status as an Omega long enough to go to the Olympics? Takes place pre-The Bronze

Written for @saiyanprincesswanie’s Chris Evans/Sebastian Stan character challenge. Go check it out on Tumblr if you’re interested in writing for it!

“Take these, now.” Marian, standing over you like a hawk, handed you scent suppressant pills. “Who knows what will happen to you if they figure out you’re not a Beta? You could be fired and taken off the ranks for good.”

“I know,” you snapped, snatching the bottle out of her hand. “I’ll take them.” You tipped a couple into your hand and popped them into your mouth. Leaning down to the bathroom sink, you took a few gulps of water and swallowed the pills. “Thank you.”

Keep reading

[ao3feed-buckybarnes]

Kudzu

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2KnOCvz

by StarryNighty

This is my entry for @saiyanprincessswanie 500 followers challenge! Congrats! Woohoo! Prompt: “I hope you’re not tired yet, because we have the whole night ahead of us.” AU Paring: dark!Bucky Barnes x fem reader Summary: Bachorlette party in the middle of nowhere, Florida.

Warnings: 18+, smut, dark themes, non-con, dubious consent, alcohol use, please read with caution.

A/N: Thank you @titty-teetee for beta’ing this smutty story lol I love ya <3

Words: 2092, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Categories: F/M

Characters: Bucky Barnes, James "Bucky" Barnes

Relationships: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Additional Tags: Rape/Non-con Elements, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Alcohol, Anxiety

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2KnOCvz

[kitkatd7]

Christmas Party

Summary: You’re having a great Christmas eve… until you aren’t. You’re being bullied and Loki isn’t having any of it.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Angst! self-consciousness, bullying/belittling, cursing, fluff ending

Requests: 

Requested by @myraiswack: Hello love, congrats again on 500!!! Could I request a prompt thing for Loki with 4. “Leave me alone” angst prompt but then a fluffy end with 9. “Hold me” (so kinda a hurt & comfort thing? Idk you can do whatever😁💕) Thank you so much 😘

Requested by @cap-n-stuff: Hi! Can I get an angst to fluff with Loki?? Thanks! 

Prompts: “You have to kiss me if we’re under the mistletoe.” (Season of Fiction Writing Challenge)

Word Count: 1482

A/N: This is for @star-spangled-beard-burn Season of Fiction Writing Challenge!! Congratulations again, and I hope you enjoy it! Beta read by the beautiful @rhemasky and the ever wonderful @cap-n-stuff thanks lovelies <3

Prompts will be in bold (Poem is not mine and I take no credit for it, I’m borrowing it from google) 

----------------------

You’re at Tony’s Christmas party with your boyfriend, Loki, and everything is perfect. The food is amazing, all of your friends are present, and you’re all watching Tony, who’s drunk, and singing Deck the Halls with the wrong lyrics. And to top it all off- You feel beautiful for the first time in a long time. Not that Loki didn’t tell you every chance he had how gorgeous you were- but having someone tell you and feeling it are two very different things. But tonight- Tonight is different. You look gorgeous; you feel gorgeous. A dark green dress hugs your skin delicately, accenting your curves. The golden sparkles that start at the top gently cascade down the strapless dress, thinning out until they disappear just before the hem of your skirt. Your hair twisted back into soft waves, held by golden pins. The necklace you never take off you rests at the hollow of your throat; An elegant gold star with small white gems. It was a present from Loki, gifted along with a poem: 

I want to invite you for a walk

To a quiet place; in the moor. 

When the breeze sings serenades, 

One of those nights-

The moon is full.

A restless pounding invades my heart

When I think of my confidants-

The stars.

If only they could speak,

What would they say?

If you could hear them speak,

For they know my fondness for you

And that in my thoughts,

There is no other one.

If only the stars could speak

They will tell you that I love you.

They would ask you, 

To love me back.

That was how he told you he loved you. The memory wraps around you in a warm haze as you smile up at Loki. His grip tightens around your waist as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you sigh contentedly. 

“Do you want champagne, love?”

You hum a yes, watching as his dark, deliciously clad form disappears into the crowd.

You roll your eyes upon hearing a high pitched voice call your name. You turn, coming face to face with one of Tony’s countless guests. Lord knows how she got an invite. 

“Aren’t you Loki’s ex-girlfriend?” She asks, not waiting for a reply as her friends shoot you a pitiful look. “That is so sad! I can’t believe it. Everyone thought you guys would work out- But can you really blame him for breaking up with you?” She snarks, tone shifting as she eyes you demeaningly. 

“What? No, we didn’t break-”

“I mean, sure, you’re sort of cute, in your own way. But honestly, you're not good enough for him anyway. It’s probably for the best. You’ve got too many… How can I put this lightly?” She pauses thoughtfully, her hand under her chin in fake contemplation. “...Imperfections.” She finally says maliciously as her friends nod in faux sympathy. 

“Also, you’re obviously way too clingy- Guys don’t like that.” She hums, shaking her head disapprovingly. “Loki needs a more confident girl. Prettier. Thinner. Someone like- well, someone like me, I suppose,” she says casually, eyes glinting assertively. 

All the air is pushed from your lungs as you choke back sobs.

Loki’s eyebrows furrow as he watches you whirl away from a group of women and push your way aimlessly through the crowd. He grabs your arm lightly as you turn to face him, looking up at him with tears in your eyes.

“My love, what’s wrong?” He asks, cupping your face gently when you shake your head and try to step away. He whispers your name, his eyes clouding in confusion. “Tell me what they said,” he prompts you gently. Blinking back fresh tears, you pull away. “Leave me alone,” you whisper hoarsely before rushing out, vanishing in the mass of bodies.

He looks around for the source of your pain, his eyes scanning the crowd so intently he doesn’t notice Thor come up beside him. “Are you alright, brother? You look tense.”

“I’m fine. It’s Y/N. Someone upset her greatly, and I think it only fair I return the favor,” Loki growled, striding across the floor with purpose, his eyes glinting. 

Stalking up to her, Loki glares daggers, his words dripping with venom. “I don’t know what exactly you said to Y/N, but I know the general context- If you think for even a moment that you are worth more than she is, you are desperately wrong. She’s the most beautiful, intelligent, gentle person I’ve ever met, and to call her anything less than that is simply your resentment overtaking the little sense you have. She is worth more than you could possibly imagine, and she deserves for you to treat her with more respect than anyone here. The only reason you aren’t begging for your life right now is because of her and the restraint she taught me. Consider yourselves lucky we didn’t meet a year ago. Now. Get. Out,” Loki snarls, eyes flashing with barely contained rage. 

----------------------------

Some minutes later, Loki opens the door to your room softly, slipping inside to find you perched on the edge of the bed, smudged mascara and drying tears mixing on your cheeks. Your dress in a forgotten heap on the floor, replaced with sweatpants and a hoodie that you never gave back to him. He crouches in between your thighs, his hands resting gently on your legs. All his quick wit evades him, and he finds himself unable to conjure the perfect words to ease your pain. “I’m sorry.” 

You burst into fresh tears, burying your head into his shoulder, and all he can do is hold you as you try to find the words. “She’s right, you know?” You murmur, sitting up as a mirthless laugh passing through your lips as Loki looks at you in confusion.

“What was she right about, darling?”

“That I’m not like her. I can never be like her- I’ll never look like her, or sound like her, or act like her. I can never be that perfect. She was right about everything. She was right that I’ll never be good enough for anyone. But I’ll especially never be good enough for you-”

Your sentence cuts off as Loki’s lips capture yours, his hands cup your face as he kisses you with such a confident passion that it leaves you breathless when he pulls away. Resting his forehead against yours, he stares deeply into your eyes. “Don’t ever say that you aren’t good enough for me again. It is I who isn’t worthy of you, my love.  But she’s right-” He starts as you look at him in shock. “-That you aren’t like her... And that’s why I love you.” He huffs lightly to himself, brushing the back of his hand against the soft skin of your cheek while gazing at you like you hung the moon in the sky. “I don’t want you to be like her. I don’t want you to try to look or sound or act any differently than you are- Because as soon as you try to be someone else, you lose yourself. Darling, perfect is not a real thing. Perfect is a mask, an image of what someone else wants you to be. To be perfect is to be fake and to let go of every ounce of life in your being. I love you exactly the way you are, and always will.”

You stare at Loki in complete surprise, your lips parted slightly, at a loss for words.

He kisses you again with a dominating sweetness that you’ve never felt before. His lips are fierce and compelling against your own as you lean into him, all of the pain you felt slipping away into memory at the caring touch and soothing presence of your lover. 

“Hold me.” It comes out a breathless plea against his lips as he gathers you in his arms and moves you both to the headboard. 

You snuggle into him, your head on his chest and his arms securely around you. Anchoring you. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined us spending Christmas.” You hum tiredly against his skin in agreement. 

Before you can slip into sleep, you hear him murmur your name. Your eyebrows furrow at the soft expression on his face and the light dancing in his eyes. “You have to kiss me if we’re under the mistletoe,” he whispers. 

“Loki, there isn’t any-” You huff before following his gaze to the ceiling where there is, in fact, mistletoe. “That’s cheating.” you chuckle, leaning closer instinctively, eyes flicking between his and his lips. 

“Mm, perhaps. But if I get a kiss from you then it’s worth it.” He charms, lips curving into a warm smile. 

You sigh, into the kiss in pleasure and exhaustion before nestling back into his side. Maybe this isn’t a terrible way to spend Christmas.

-----------------------------

What did you think? Please feel free to let me know! 

Drop an ask, dm, comment (anything really) If you would like to be added (or removed) from a taglist! 

Permanent tag list: @lovesmesomehiddles @saiyanprincessswanie @kind-sober-fullydressed @remibarnes22 @romainniesweetheart @angelinathebook @star-spangled-beard-burn @itsunclebucky @teenagereadersciencenerd @chaotic-fae-queen @bugsbucky @cap-n-stuff @imma-new-soul @wonderlandfandomkingdom @fablesrose @coffeebooksandfandom