#dark steve x ofc

[pencilscratchins]

i have reached the part of the steddie hyperfixation where i make them domesticated men in their 50s. having a blast! (twitter) [ID in ALT text]

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Fiddle ||

Description: Curtis is a soldier from lands far away. Curtis loves to tease you. Curtis is a jerk. Curtis is your husband. You do your best to deny Curtis' existence. Curtis doesn't mind. Because Curtis knows you are a fiddle to his touch, whether you like to admit it or not.  

Pairing: Soft-Dark Army Chief!Curtis Everett | Spoiled Crown Princess!You. 

Disclaimer: I do not own Curtis Everett (sadly). This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact. 

Warning(s): Soft-Dark Curtis, he's kinda crusty dusty, forced/arranged marriage, power imbalance, fluffy smut with dark undertones that gets rough, groping, making out, dumbification, degradation, self degradation, ddlg undertones, he's intimidating, pet names, infantilization, play fighting, m!dom, f!sub, unprotected p-in-v intercourse, cock riding, overstimulation, doggy style fucking, spanking, choking, hair pulling, he's a man. 

Note: Was gonna post a Sy thing tonight but it's not done yet and I am extremely tired so here's a little Curtis piece I did the other day.

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Curtis' eyes are closed as he leans his head against the edge of the tub, his huge body relaxed in the warm water while a content smile tugs at his lips. There is nowhere in this whole wide world that he would rather be than in this moment right here; relaxed after a long day of hard work and in the proximity of his dear lady. The contemptuous voice of said lady, although hostile, is music to his ears as it rings in the distance between them while she begrudgingly rubs away at one of the many dirt spots on his body with the use of a soft sponge. 

"Ugh, what do I, The Crown Princess, get?!" You are muttering to yourself like a typical naggy wife. "A fuckin–" your words lock in your throat automatically when your husband's eyebrows furrow in disapproval. "A frickin' no name foreign soldier!" You hate how he doesn't even have to open his eyes to get you to correct yourself. "While all my stupid friends– stay still!" You reprimand when one of his arms that you had extended in your direction to scrub the grime off of begins to get antsy in your lap for the sole purpose of annoying you.

Curtis chuckles and that irks you even more, as if your tiara placed on the opposite side of the tub on a little stool for whatever reason glinting at you isn't enough. 

Your husband is a jerk and he's probably rubbing your nose in the fact that despite being all-powerful after your father The King, you still have to bathe his stupid dirty body like a common wife. 

Ugh, you hate him.

"I am sorry, my love."

But you can't protest in the way that you want. 

Because your stupid father had issued a decree upon your arranged union to him. That you would only be able to keep your crown if you stayed true to your husband and kept him happy. Otherwise, the Army Chief -a stupid title held by your idiot of a husband- could usurp your future throne and do with the kingdom -and you- as he pleased. 

You hated it. 

But you loved your position more. 

However, your rascal of a husband made it even harder for you to stand him and keep up with the bargain when he asked of you cringy domestic services that made you want to punch him square in the jaw. 

But alas! 

How powerful is a damsel against her knight in shining armor? 

You continue when you have made sure that he won't try and reach for your breasts now. "... While all my stupid friends got to have dukes and nobles and aristocrats, I get a crusty dusty baldy from who knows where!" You hate how your boobs hang from the neck of your dress. 

Your depraved husband had them make a whole new wardrobe for you after your wedding. 

And the fittings and cuts on your home gowns made you want to kick him. 

He further irritates you when he lazily splashes some water on you in a playful fashion. You click your tongue at him and widen your eyes in warning even though he can't see you as you pinch his arm. "Stop it, baldy! Do you even know how long it takes to wash and style hair? Exactly!" You glanced at his buzzed head. "Stop splashing your stupid grimy water on–" you gasp, fully offended now as he remains unbothered with his eyes still comfortably shut. Water drips down your nose due to the hefty handful of the soapy water that he has just hurled right onto your face. 

"You–!" You toss the sponge into the tub angrily as you reach for his face with your claws. "You are DONE! I will end you today– AHH!" You screech when he manhandles you quicker than you can process it. The only thing you see is him opening his intelligent blue eyes before he gathers your offending hands in one of his much bigger, rougher ones and the arm that you had been cleaning wraps around your waist before you are pulled into the water. 

… You are in utter disbelief.

Your mouth falls open in shock as your eyes clench shut to suppress your rage. "How's this?" Your jaw ticks at his cocky tone. Warm water helps itself into your heavy gown and you're getting drenched by the second. You don't even struggle to try and get out because you are all too familiar with the unrelenting quality of the vice grip that he has placed on you. 

You stay quiet for a bit and just let yourself simmer in your rage while you try to think of all the reasons why you shouldn't lose your shit. 

But your husband is insufferable.

"Figured you could use some cleaning up too after a long, hard day of sulking around in luxury and jewels inside the castle" that seems to set you off in an autopilot and you begin to vehemently try and shake him off. But it's impossible to do so in the hold he has you in and that makes you even more passionate towards your resolve.

The bathwater goes splashing all around as you grunt and groan, wheezing a few seconds in by the struggle you have to put forth. Your eyebrows crease together indignantly and you kick your legs hard, pathetically weaseling against his chest with your hands locked above your head.

Curtis is no more than amused while you fume. He wordlessly holds you down with adoration in his pale blue eyes as a soft smile tugging at his bearded lips. He remains quiet and soundless until you open your mouth and then he's laughing at you. 

"Unhand me, fiend!" What? You read that in your literature lessons recently and thought it sounded cool. 

"Oh," your husband begins to shift forwards to press you against the edge of the opposite end of the tub, "but the big bad fiend fancies himself some little princess now" that's another thing you hate. 

He always tells you you're too small for big girl things and that's why you need to be taken care of. That that was also one of the reasons behind your father getting you, his only child, married to a man like him. 

That you needed a firm hand in your life that only he could provide.  

Absolutely absurd, right?! 

"I AM NOT LITT–" you suddenly freeze amid your struggle because your eyes have subconsciously flickered down to his pink chapped lips while his breath fans your mouth. You can't decide whether it's the way Curtis' chest firmly presses against yours or the way he has your arms suspended above your head in such a… big way that you inch your head upwards and mindlessly meet his lips, way too carried away by the memories of how good they feel to be rational.

As always.

The hungry way in which he kisses you back takes your breath away and both of you begin to claw and grope at each other everywhere you can like you are lovers who have met after being parted for years. The brawling couple is nowhere to be found, for a different kind of tussle has been initiated. 

Your access to him is less complicated and more pleasant because he's completely bare. But the way Curtis growls when he's kissing the length of your neck and the lovebites that he likes to leave on your tender skin indicates that he does not appreciate the barrier of your skirts between himself and you. 

"Up" he separates his lips from your jaw that he now nibbles at just enough to husk out his order. You quickly obey as you feel your arousal fill your already drenched undergarments, deciding that fighting could come later. You had the rest of your lives to do that, after all. Not that you liked to admit it when you weren't about to mount his cock. 

Curtis sits back and pulls you on his toned thighs to have no hassle access to you. You whine and grind yourself against his erection as he peels all your clothes off hurriedly, occasionally grunting under his breath when you get too rough because of your need. 

"Come here" he keeps your jewelry on but pulls and tears away everything else. Picking up your extravagant tiara from the stool, he places it on your head and you can't help but clench before rocking your hips harder against his. 

It's a silent assertion. 

An act of dominance. 

A paradox. 

You could wear the crown and have all the power in the Kingdom over every single person but your husband. 

Curtis was your regulator; your owner. 

The real master. 

You were the silly little puppet that he controlled with his cock.  

And while it never fails to offend you later, it always makes you even wetter when your bare body is pressed up against his. 

You whimper to yourself as realization dawns upon you; was this why he had the tiara placed here in his reach when you started? Did he know this was coming? Was this supposed to happen? Had your husband tricked you into becoming the wanton little thing that he always made out of you? 

You whine with a timid shake of your head as you place your hands on his broad shoulders to signal him to not move when he goes to place you under him. "W- Wanna ride…" You mumble like a baby and the tenderness of your tone has him roughly inhaling before he grabs your ass and squeezes it harshly, forcing your straddle to widen against him.

"Sure you can take it on your own, honey?" Even in your submissive state, you roll your eyes before puffing your flushed cheeks and that's how Curtis knows you are the one for him. 

"I think I know how to ride my husband's dick, thank you very much" he snorts.

"Oh, so now I am your husband, huh?" You groan and clamp one of your hands around his teasing grin as you reach into the water to position his tip against yourself. 

"I swear, you're so fuck– ow, Curty!" Your eyebrows rush to meet as you let out a high pitched throaty whine.

"Language" he warns dangerously as he glares up at where you're suddenly hugging his shoulders sensitively so his face is between your boobs. 

The combination of the apex of his dick twitching against you along with a punishing smack resounding against your wet ass had been too much for you to handle. 

You were just a fragile little baby, after all. 

"S- Sorry…" Your knees shake as you remain propped up on the top of his cock, too stuck around his monstrous girth to sink down and too needy to let go. "P- Please help, Curty" he has to raise one of his thick, dark eyebrows at that. 

"But I thought you were a big girl who knew how to ride her man's cock" shame nibbled at your blushing cheeks. 

"N- No… n- not big, Curty. P- Please… n- need you so bad" you uncomfortably shifted on the top of his cock. "P- Please help…" He hummed as he let one of his hands roughly fondle your ass cheeks, his beard feeling the soft cushions of your boobs. 

"Are you saying that you admit that you are my dumb little girl who can't do anything on her own and needs me for everything?" You nod so he moves you down but stops halfway to torture you just that bit more. "Say it" the slap he lands on your butt causes your cheeks to jiggle feverishly and you arch your back at the pain with a loud whine. 

"I- I…" You clench needily around him and feel yourself getting wetter at how great that one thick vein of his cock feels around your walls. "I admit t- that I am a stupid little girl and I can't do a- anything on my own–" you have to pause to recollect your breaking voice, the tension in your band of muscles that his rock hard cock stretches forming knots in the base of your stomach. "A- And that I need m- my hubby for everything" Curtis hums and he finally rests his back against the tub again as his hands aid your movements up and down his cock to get you to adjust to him. 

"Now thank me" you clench and feel your toes curl when he begins to pay attention to your erect boobs and his beard scratches the skin, chapped lips grazing your nubs in a way you can only describe as pleasurable. 

"Thank you!" It is breathless and erotic in tone as your hands curl around his shoulders. "Thank you for h- helping me, hubby" your hips start to work on their own now, the water that is beginning to turn cold splashing down on the floor as you slide yourself up and down his hard cock. 

"Wouldn't have been able to do it on your own, huh baby?" Curtis' teeth are sharp around one particular nipple that he had neglected the last time he was on you -which was a night before the last- and now he began his addictive mix of sucking and biting at the bud so you would be reminded of him every time anything brushed against it. 

"N- No, hubby…" The fact that your nails are digging into his hard pale skin -that doesn't get tanned no matter what, much to your confusion- but it doesn't seem to bother him as he rams up into you each time you land on his balls makes you reach for your pussy only for your hand to be smacked away. 

Uh oh.

It's a rule; your body belongs to Curtis and only he gets to touch it.

"And why is that?" Your vision gets dizzy as his tip begins to collide with your spongy bundle of sensitive nerves now, his girth having finally parted your walls enough. 

You feel yourself in a daze as you gasp down at him, one of your hands mindlessly stroking his sharp features. Curtis' body is the most stunning contrast of light and dark. His skin is white as snow -almost as though he has been carved out of frost itself- and his thick hair is nearly black. He hasn't yet disclosed to you his origins or the backstories of the many scars that litter his body. But the menace with which he wields a weapon -though he prefers not to be a soldier around you, unappreciative of you ever showing up on the field or anywhere near it- and the way your father trusts him with all of your lives sends the faintest chill of realization down your spine. 

Your husband is not as simple as the Kingdom Protector that he makes himself out to be. 

Because the ruthless way in which he shot down the person who tried to abduct you when you tried to flee your wedding makes you wonder if you even want to find out just what you open your legs to everytime you can. 

Or he wants. 

"Hm?" Curtis pulls you out of your fear inducing reverie. "Answer the question and I'll give it to you, baby" you feel your tiara slip to one side and go crooked on your wet hair when he gives you a particularly hard thrust. 

"Ugghhhheeee!" You gurgle as you throw your head back because of how he bites your nipple at the same time. You rake your mind to remember where you were, clenching hard around him when it does come back. "B- Because I am too d- dumb and my l- little pussy is too small to handle you all by myself, hubby" the profane words that would usually sting you tongue and appall you only further add to the pressure building between your hips.

You're so close.

Curtis growls and the way he begins to fuck up your pussy indicates that it's taking all of him not to change position and plunder you into the ground. 

But he never refuses the wishes of his Princess. 

His fingers finally creep to where you need him most. "That's fuckin' right" a loud moan escapes you when his thumb begins to swipe up and down your clit. "So remember that the next time you wanna argue with your man who works hard in the hot dirty field all day long so you can be a pretty little Princess in a protected Kingdom" your whole body is on fire despite the water that surrounds you. You're wet, dirty, desperate and on the very edge, the stimulation on your clit pulling at the knots in your stomach harder and harder. You're incoherent with your pleas and praises but Curtis isn't quite finished with you just yet. A firm tap thumps against the side of your head condescending as he readjusts your tiara. "Tell me you'll remember it" before he wraps his muscular arm around your waist to pull you closer again.

"I'll remember it, hubby!" You throw your head back as pleasure erupts up your womb and everywhere in your body. Your knees give out but you keep slamming yourself up and down his dick animalistically like a cock drunk nymph, placing your hands on the edges of the tub and using the grip to help move yourself. "Thank you so much!" Your ears are numb and hot, vision full of stars and neon shapes as you feel your breasts jiggle in a humiliating manner but you are too far gone to care.  

Your heart is still erratic and your hips haven't completely stopped moving when he decides to take back all the reigns of control. 

Being the simpleton that you are, you fail to realize that your husband didn't come. But that's okay. Curtis understands; little Princesses like you don't know anything but selfishness. 

It's a good thing he's a taker. 

"My turn" he breathily whispers in your ear when you have somewhat calmed down and now tiredly rest against his chest while lazily moving yourself on his cock. 

"... H- Huh?" 

A loud groan of protest escapes you when he suddenly rotates you on his cock like it's your axis, shifting onto his knees and moving you towards the opposite end of the tub. You open your eyes to see him placing your hands around the edge of the tub to hold on to, the realization of what he is about to do you causing your eyes to nearly fall out of their sockets as you sputter, too confused and fucked out to say anything substantial. 

Not that your husband would listen anyways. 

That is another rule; you are never to deprive him of anything, yourself being the top of the list of said things. 

Curtis adjusts your tiara again as he moves back to wrap his hands around your thighs to both handle you better and keep your legs that are trying to clamp together wide open for him. 

"Oh!" Your pussy clenches in defense when he begins to thrust into you.

And he isn't gentle about it either. 

"Tsk, comparing me, a husband who serves his wife with his blood and sweat to those sissy elites who have never seen a day of hard work in their lives and only know their fancy words" one of his hands pull back to come rapping down on your ass, causing you to jump with a loud whine, the action causing him to groan as well as it sends vibrations up his cock. "Well you know what, my dear?" He pulls you back by your hair to whisper in your ear. "If it comes to it, do you think those dukes and nobles and aristocrats of yours will be able to protect the honor of their ward like I did?" Fuck, another orgasm is about to force itself out of you due to the sensitive condition of your pussy. "Huh?!" Another slap has you yelling out a response as you get rammed like nothing more than a common whore.

"N- No, hubby! I am sorry, hubby!"

"You better fuckin' be" Curtis sounds fatally dangerous as he holds you to him by a new grip he has placed on the curve of your pussy from behind. "No real man ever wants the name of another on his wife's tongue" his balls clap against your ass in the most erotic way you've ever known. "Don't take my affections for granted" he begins to toy with your folds just to torture you that much more. "You're too spoiled and stupid to handle me when I get pissed, honey." 

He is breathless as he empties his load into you, cursing when the hot burst of thick liquid causes you to fall over again and you clench around him due to the sensitivity. "Look at this, baby" one of his rough hands clamp around your throat as he bends over you to fuck you harder, holding one of your thighs over his arm to allow himself deeper access. "You can't even breathe without my permission… how fucking cute" your lungs burn for air and your brain melts.

"Yes, hubby…" Is the only thing you can hear yourself muttering through the numbness as your body rocks back and forth. You can swear you knock out a couple times as your husband thoroughly fucks his orgasm out and into you. 

Then he pulls you in his arms and against his chest when he is done. 

"My hair…" His cock is hot inside your cavern as you cuddle into his chest, having been turned around again as the two of you snuggle now. 

Curtis has always told you that it's very pretty, just like all your other features. "What about it?" Your husband's own breathing is heavy as he reaches to push it out of your face. Your tiara is long gone and forgotten after it went missing during the fuck. 

"The soapy water ruined it…" You softly pout up at him. 

"I mean…" The warm and blissed out expression in his eyes is evidence that he doesn't agree nor care. Your beauty is something he always compliments with no hesitation and complete honesty. You are the prettiest sight my eyes have ever had the pleasure of beholding. It makes you roll your eyes everytime. "We can be the baldies, the two of us, hm?" You huff and glance at the ceiling tiredly. "The… baldy couple…?" He imitates the way you say it in your exact accent and you can't help but push weakly at his chest to express your dislike. "I mean," Curtis is grinning now. Uh oh, that can't be good, it never is. "Bet the tiara would look even cuter on your shiny cueball head–"

"YOU'RE SO OBSCENE, UGH!" He doesn't mind the childish fist that you land on his shoulder only to whine because his skin is too hard for your pampered little hand. 

Curtis snorts as he reaches for your hurting hand and kisses the top of it before slowly standing up with you safely tucked in his huge arms. "Only for you, honey" before he carefully removes you from his cock and hauls you over his shoulder, smacking your ass to make you squeak as he walks to the shower to get the now grimy bathwater off of the two of you. 

Your head maid shakes her head from outside your chambers as she motions for the rest of your helpers to excuse you for the day. It wouldn't be until morning that anyone would be able to get you two off of each other. 

"The Princess pretends like she doesn't know the Chief but he is the only one who has ever made her so… soft" one of the girls that basically grew up with you and was one of your good friends giggled shyly. 

"That's because she's a fiddle for the Chief, whether she wants to admit it or not" the other one rolls her eyes as they walk away from the group. 

"Perhaps that's what a comfortable marriage is" your friend muses aloud as the two girls turn the corner towards their quarters. "Being hopeless fiddles for each other in our own ways."

It was true, for it was not one sided by any means.

.

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [1 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: You learn the hard way what it takes to survive this new life. 

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, More tags to be added

A/N: i had too much fun with this concept so i decided to stretch it out into more than one part! i really hope you guys enjoy.

“You understand what I’m telling you, Sweetmeat?” He says, tapping the underside of your chin with the flat of his blade. His bright blue eyes seem to dance with amusement. “I’m telling you to run.” You jump, gasping as he turns the sword with a flick of his wrist, bringing it down in one smooth motion to cut the thick length of rope between your outstretched hands. It falls to the dry grass between your feet, and he straightens back up in the saddle. The massive Clydesdale paws impatiently at the dirt as he laughs again.

“Run.” 

You do, with the orc-pack’s laughter burning in your ears. The grass crunches beneath your feet as you sprint. You gather your dusty skirts up around your knees as you make for the tree line. The sound of a horn spurs you onward. 

“The river, Sweetmeat!” His voice carries to you from across the hill. “You’ve only to make it to the river!”

Dry branches tear at your face and clothes as you force your way into the brush. The fear disorients you, but only for a moment. They will run you down if you take the path, sure as daylight. Instead, you make the choice to stick to the trees, moving between them as quietly as you can. You’d seen what the blue-eyed-orc had done to the others—one by one offering them the same choices— 

Run and die. Run or die—

No one got to live.  

It made a sick sort of sense, you supposed, if you used Orc-logic. They were weak—unworthy of the water it would take to sustain them, of the burden it would take for a rider to bear them. You had watched as first the baker’s boy, then the cobbler, and then the smithy each followed the blue-eyed-orc’s instruction, stumbling down the mountain path and disappearing into the trees—only to be brought back at dusk, their remains thrown to the wargs.

Your father had been good for little else but finding his next ale, but he’d paid his guild taxes same as everyone. And a fat lot of good it did him. The few soldiers stationed at the outpost nearest your village had been felled laughably easily, almost as easily as your father. And now he was gone, and you were here, a day’s ride south of the charred remains of your village.

The horn blows behind you a second time, and you swallow your terrified sob. No—you mustn’t panic. It is fear and panic that will get you caught. Your mother’s voice rings in your ears. Find green, she whispers as you crawl through the trees. Find green.

And you will find water.

The trees aren’t dead, not really, not at the roots. There’s thick brown moss growing at the roots, between the sparse patches of dry grass. You fall to your knees, ripping at it. The top layer is dry and brown, flaking away easily under your fingernails. But underneath—

Green. 

The sound of hoofbeats approaching on the nearby path quickens your step. North—the river is north. You gather what is left of your torn skirts in your hands, trying to stay low and quiet. You have seen the thick-shafted arrows strapped to the backs of the broad-shouldered orc warriors, and you’ve no desire to feel them bury themselves in your back. 

“Fan out!”

Half-blind you push forward, your own ragged breath deafening in your ears. You’re not going to make it—there is no river, there never was, there’s nothing for you to find out here, nothing—

And then you see it. 

The river is drawn back from the bank, a shrunken skeleton of itself—but it is here. From the width of the bank and the depth of the riverbed, you can tell it was once a mighty thing, now tamed by the unending drought. The red clay is dry and crumbling beneath your bare feet as you stumble toward the water. It is cool on your feet as you splash into it, your feet sinking into the mud. 

There is a sound like a whistle, like a switch splitting the air before it parts skin, and an arrow sinks into the wet clay by your feet. 

“Don’t stop now, Sweetmeat. You’re so close.” The voice is taunting, and hatefully familiar. Slowly you turn, and the blue-eyed-orc is there on the bank. His bow drawn, another arrow already nocked.  You stare at one another, your heart pounding in your chest. You wait for him to draw back the bow, to loose the arrow—he doesn’t. After a moment, he lowers it. 

“Brave little thing, aren’t you?” He asks, cocking his head. “You’re not going to run?” 

“No.” You don’t want to die like your father—cowering, with an axe between his shoulder blades that he never saw coming. “I would see my death.” The blue-eyed-orc grins, one sharp fang hanging over his lip. 

“Oh?” To surprise, he stores the arrow back in its quiver, and takes a step closer. “You’ve no weapon to meet it.” 

“It will come whether I’ve steel or none.” You match his step, taking one further back into the river. The muddy water laps at your calves, soaking into your dress. Over the sound of rushing water and the thunder of your own heartbeat, you hear the horses. The riders approach lazily, slowly, like they know you’re cornered. 

You are. 

The pack doesn’t interfere; don’t come any closer than twenty or thirty paces from the riverbank, content to watch as the blue-eyed one circles you like a wolf. 

“Not going to beg, either, I imagine.” He says, and trembling, you shake your head. You’re up to your knees in water now, your skirts soaked and dragging in the current. You are expecting him to unsheathe the massive, hooked axe on his back, to bring your death down upon you swiftly—but he does not even reach for it. Instead, he reaches for your face, cupping your chin in his huge hand. 

“What are you called?” When you answer, he rolls your name around in his mouth like mead. He turns your head this way and that, like someone inspecting an animal for sale. You know he must feel it, the race of your pulse under his fingertips. After a moment, he pulls back, directing his sharp gaze over his shoulder. 

“Bring a horse for her, Buck.” He says, licking his lips. You watch as a ripple passes through the pack at the impact of his decision.

“What—what are you doing?” You ask hoarsely, your teeth still clenched tight with fear. He grins at you over his shoulder as he makes for the bank.

“A deal’s a deal, Sweetmeat,” he replies, beckoning you to follow. “You get to live.” 

to be continued

next

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖Make it Stick: Pt. 3 The Knight

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 3195

Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers

Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly.

Wait! I haven't read part 1, part 2!

“Nnn, pl-please…”

Her gasp is hardly audible this time, she’s so out of breath.

Panting from the way the second orgasm’s just ripped through her. And she’s crying still, but only just. Not like before. Because now the pleasure’s overtaken most of the anger, all of the fear, and even some of the humiliation. Bucky pulls his hands from her and delicately eases her panties back into place, smooths her little slip of a dress out for her. He looks up from his spot on the floor.

Her chest heaves with her breathing, the underside of her breasts—beautiful and natural under the silk—on full display for Bucky from this angle. And, Christ, her nipples are pebbled up, just begging for attention. Bucky sees Steve refixing his hold on her waist to support her because she’s gone so slack. She’s shaking against him, his body practically the only thing keeping her vertical at this point.

Inside his pants, Bucky is … uncomfortable. He slowly pushes up from where he’s been kneeling in front of her, coming back to stand at his full height and crowd in close again. He cages her between his body and Steve’s, hands landing on her waist right alongside Steve’s own. “Shh sh sh,” he hushes, mockingly tender. “Don’t you want to say thank you for your orgasm?” He leans in so that the words are whispered against the side of her head. He’s staring at Steve as he says it, and when Lena’s mortified, overwhelmed little whimper comes in response, he doesn’t miss how Steve’s mouth twitches at the corner. Steve likes to play the white knight—and maybe he sort of is, compared to Bucky, but even still, he’s no sweetheart. And he’s enjoying the heck out of this. “Are you hard?” Bucky whispers, and he feels his sweet puppy’s body stiffen between them as she figures out who he’s talking to.

“You have to ask?” Steve answers, the rumble of his voice no doubt felt against Polina’s back. She makes another little outraged cry when Steve presses forward, driving his erection against her backside and pushing her more tightly up against Bucky.

Bucky, who helpfully slots his thigh back between her legs. She shivers as her sex is pressed up against him, going stock still to avoid any stimulation. Bucky coos down at her. He lets go of her waist and cups her face with one hand, tucking her hair behind her ear with the other. “Aw, princess,” he murmurs. “You sensitive now? Hm?”

She sniffles and nods her head. She’s been much more forthcoming ever since the suppository and the pill worked their way into her system. Behind the glossy sheen of her tears, her pupils are even wider and darker than Steve’s. It’s hardly taken any work at all to get her to come twice for him, she’s so keyed up.

Bucky tuts lovingly and brings the still buzzing vibrator up in front of her face. He twists the base, turning it off. Lena’s whole body slumps between them with relief, and Bucky chuckles. “Don’t get too excited. This might not be over for you.”

“W-what …” she swallows dryly. “What do you mean?”

“You still have a choice to make.” Bucky taps the little bullet vibrator against her lips. “Open.” She clamps her mouth shut stubbornly, so Bucky shrugs and rubs it over her instead, smearing her own release onto her lips. He leans in and slots his mouth over hers, licking the taste of her right back. “Mmm,” he hums. “Somebody’s been drinking their pineapple juice.”

She’s glowering at him when he pulls back. Bucky licks his lips like he’s savoring the last taste of a fatty meal. He can tell from the look on her face that he’s actually right: she has been drinking it. He feels a rush of fondness mixed with anger come at that—Fond, because it’s proof that she takes even his smallest teachings to heart.

“No, seriously. That’s why I have a glass each morning. It makes cum taste sweeter. … Pussy, too.”

Anger, because it’s not him she’s been drinking it for.

He forces the latter emotion away with a deep breath and a long exhale. He doesn’t have to be angry, because nobody but him is ever going to taste that pussy again. … Well, almost nobody but him. “Okay, little one,” he sighs. “Time to make a choice.” He reaches around her and tucks the vibe back into Steve’s pocket. Then he looks down and meets her gaze.

Her pretty blue eyes are wide but dazed, high from the drugs coursing through her system. Bucky smiles and cups her face with both hands. She’s so fucking beautiful, with her round little face and plush lips, her pretty blue eyes. They’re near arctic in color—closer to Steve’s cornflower blue than Bucky’s own muddled blue-grey. Sharp and clear, like ice underwater, and positively gorgeous when they’re crying.

Lena sniffles and Bucky’s heart twinges with affection. He leans in and kisses her cheeks, cleaning up her tears. “You need to listen to me now, Polina,” he murmurs, feeling her shudder underneath his touch. “Are you listening?”

She whines a little, not able to give up completely on her stubbornness, even now. Bucky loves her so goddamn much. She tries to squirm in their hold again, but as soon as her over sensitized clit bumps Bucky’s thigh, she’s calming back down. “What?” she asks quietly, sniffling and trying to put on a stiff upper lip. It’s cute.

“It’s up to you, how this goes,” Bucky tells her. He looks over to his right and catches the eye of one of the widows. It’s Belova. He jerks his head for her to go and get the supplies that are waiting in the wings. She disappears and reappears with a rolling tray table of tattoo supplies. “This,” he says to Lena, “is what’s happening.”

She squints in confusion at it for a second or two—the tray of gauze and ointment, inks and gloves and gun—before her eyes register the stencil and read it … and go wide in realization. She jerks in their hold, thrashing, tossing her head back against Steve’s chest in another vain attempt to hurt him. “No!” she huffs, the sound breaking into a pitiful whimper at the end, despite her bravery. “No, you can’t!”

Bucky waits her out, and sure enough, her little tantrum dies down. She cries, and he wipes those tears away, too. “Shh,” he soothes. “It’s not so bad.”

“It is!” she cries. “I hate you. I hate you!”

“You’re a smart girl, Lena. You can’t tell me you didn’t always know you’d wind up here.” He tilts her chin up when she refuses to look at him. Her tearful, angry eyes meet his, and he offers her a tender smile. He gives her another kiss, just a peck on the lips, this time. “I always get what I want, sora mica,” he murmurs, right against her lips.

Little sister.

She shudders underneath his touch but doesn’t shirk away, and Bucky preens because he knows the war that’s going on in her head right now, even if she’ll never admit to it. Revulsion, mixed with lust, and darkness, and something too close for comfort to love. It’s what he used to feel, back before he decided to give up on conventional morality altogether. Poor little Lena, though, he thinks sadly. She hasn’t gotten there yet. Oh well, she’s young, she’ll learn.

“Now,” he tells her, thumbing over the familial cleft in her chin. “You have two choices, sweet pea. You ready to listen to ‘em?”

She grits her teeth and purses her lips in an angry little moue, stubborn thing, though she capitulates when Bucky tightens his grip on her chin. “Yes,” she whispers tightly.

Bucky smiles. “Okay. Now, two things are happening, no matter what,” he says, raising a warning eyebrow at her. “You’re getting this tattooed on your body … and Gleb back there is going for a long swim in the Hudson.” He waits her out while she throws another hissy fit over that, tears leaking and eyes burning up at him. Bucky sighs and looks off to the side until it’s over. Then, when she’s slumped back against Steve again, all tuckered out, he continues, “If you hold still like a good girl, I won’t take your dress off in front of all these people, won’t force any more orgasms outta you down here where everyone can see. And Gleb’ll get wheeled off to his morphine and an easy death. No torture, just the widow’s bite—lickety-split, no fuss-no muss.”

He watches as her eyes flare and her face crumples with suppressed emotion. She composes herself faster this time, though, and he continues softly, drawing her lip down with his thumb. “But, if you make things difficult? I’ll have you squirting all over this floor before I knock you out and ink you while you’re unconscious. And Gleb will have …” he looks off to the side, as if trying to parse out his words, “... mmm, he’ll have a very stressful weekend.” He tilts his head and narrows his eyes, squeezing her chin sternly enough that it smooshes her cheeks the barest bit. “Are you gonna be good?”

She looks torn for a second or two, but then her eyes slip closed in defeat. In Bucky’s hand, she gives the tiniest of nods.

Bucky’s pleased, but he wants more from her. “Tell me,” he commands. “You’re gonna hold nice and still?”

She sniffles and nods again. “Yes,” she breathes. “I’ll hold s-still. I’ll … I’ll be good.”

Her meek response satisfies him. Feeling a sudden wash of tenderness towards her, he leans down and presses their foreheads together and whispers, “Thank you, little one. You know how I hate to see you struggle.”

She shivers against him but doesn’t throw out any bratty quip. She keeps her eyes down, avoidant. Sighing, Bucky pulls back and steps aside to have a word with Belova. He tells her his plans for Gleb, and she gives a sharp nod and heads off to handle it. Bucky knows then that he can put the idiot man from his mind for good. The widows will more than take care of him.

Bucky returns to Steve and Lena, ready to get to work. Really, he’d prefer Natasha to be the one doing this. Bucky’s no amateur with the gun, but he’s not as good as she is. Oh well. He has a steady hand, and the design is extremely simple. Just that one phrase, in cyrillic:

собственность дракона.

Translated roughly, it means: Property of the Dragon.

“Steve,” Bucky says. “Sit with her on the bench. It’ll help keep her calm.”

Along with the cart of tattoo supplies, a rolling stool, a bench, and a padded armrest have been brought over from the Red Room. Steve all but lifts Lena and brings her over there, straddling the bench first before pulling her to straddle it in front of him. Bucky goes about setting up, snapping on a pair of black vinyl gloves while Steve wraps his arms around Lena’s waist and murmurs quietly into her ear. Bucky smiles at the pair of them. Steve cares about Polina, too, has known her for almost a decade, and he’s always had a knack for calming her down. A good thing, since Bucky’s so naturally gifted at riling her up.

He sits on the stool and scoots over to them. Lena watches him warily. Steve’s used both his and Bucky’s discarded ties to bind her arm down at the wrist and at the bend of her elbow, in case she gets second thoughts about her promise of good behavior. Bucky’s mouth quirks at the ingenuity, and his dick twitches at the optics. He’ll have to take a picture, one he’s got the ink in. A shot of her arm; reddened and bleeding with his mark, and his and Steve’s neckties framing it. Fuck, he might jerk off to it sometime.

He spends a minute getting the ink prepared, and then he carefully cleans her inner forearm and applies the stencil. It’s small but long, stretching almost the full length between the ties. It’ll take a good hour or more in its entirety, but Bucky isn’t a sadist: His little one has been through a lot, and they’ve got a long night ahead of them once they take her upstairs. Bucky wants that time to be spent mostly in pleasure, not pain. They’ll just do the outline, for now.

Lena whimpers when the paper peels back from her skin, revealing the design left behind. “Bucky,” she pleads, though one look up at him and her begging stalls. Bucky gives her a grim, apologetic look, and she knows. She knows she’s not getting out of this. She whines lowly and turns her face into Steve’s shoulder.

“Shhh,” he soothes her, his big arms wrapped tightly around her waist, comforting and restraining all at once. “You’ll be fine, hon. This is how it has to be.”

Bucky settles himself and the gun, then turns it on. Soon, the buzzing fills the small space between the three of them. In the background there’s still the noise of the club: music, chatter, bodies moving around. But in their little corner in the back, it almost feels private now that they’re centered around what Bucky’s about to do to her. “Okay, malyshka,” he murmurs, waiting until he’s got her full attention. “Watch the gun. Don’t want you jerking around in surprise.”

He’s a little taken aback by the emotions that hit, as he brings the needle down and starts inking her for the first time. He’s marking her permanently, branding her as his in a way that will never wash off, and from which she can never escape. And despite her tears and the ties binding her arm down, she is sitting there for him, allowing it. That goes straight to Bucky’s cock as sure as anything else he’s ever done to her, and he spends the rest of the session focusing on each line and curve, putting the red ink underneath her skin and trying to work out what it is that’s twisting up in his gut so bad. There’s lust and possessiveness, that much he expected, but there’s also a certain amount of … melancholy? Maybe. Whatever it is, it’s there too. A feeling of resolution, of an era coming to an end. Arousing and yet oddly bittersweet.

Lena’s fist is already clenched when he starts, but he can see her body stiffening further as the burn of the needle really sets in. Her arm flexes and her fingers curl harder into her palm, the veins popping against the strained lock of her inner elbow. Steve keeps up a gentle litany of praise and reassurance in her ear, half of which Bucky hears and half of which he misses due to his own focus on the gun. He’d love to take Steve’s place, be the one to hold her and comfort her through this, but that’s just not possible because he simply doesn’t trust anyone else to do the work.

He’s even glad that Natasha refused to do it, at this point. Because this isn’t just any tattoo. It’s personal and intimate. A promise as good as any wedding ring. Probably better-than, in the fidelity it’ll enforce. Not on Lena’s part, poor thing, but on the part of any man who might dare to entertain the idea of an affair with her. One look at her arm, and that idea would go straight up in smoke. These red words are branding her for life, in more ways than one. It’s only right that Bucky be the one to do it.

“Almost done,” he murmurs when he’s finishing up at her wrist. It’s the most painful area, and he regrets saving it for last. But his girl does beautifully and keeps relatively still, sometimes hissing or whining in pain but never asking for a break, and never twitching enough to throw Bucky off course. He finishes the outline and sits back, setting the gun aide on the cart and reaching for the salve. He smiles at his little one, who by now has stopped crying. “Good job, sweet pea,” he praises softly.

Her defenses are down from having all of her focus on something other than him for so long. She only blushes a little when he uses the nickname, and says nothing snarky back. Bucky’s heart pulls with it. In Steve’s lap, she watches as Bucky uses a tongue depressor to apply the salve in long, smooth strokes over the raw areas. She blinks at her arm like she’s fully waking from a dream. “... That’s it?” she asks, sounding surprised, maybe even disappointed—though that’s probably just Bucky’s wishful thinking.

“For now,” he tells her, bringing out the non-stick pads and adhesive wrap. He’s giving her all the aftercare that he’s neglected on himself—already the back of his neck and shoulders feels tight and unpleasant, and he doesn’t want the same for her. Steve pulls the ties loose to release her arm, and Bucky explains, “You have delicate skin, sweetheart. We’ll let this heal, fill it in another time. Add some other design elements, if you want.” He catches her look of surprise and smiles, then looks away before her expression can shutter on him. He gently applies the pads along her skin, wrapping her up in an opera glove’s length worth of neon pink animal print bandaging, nice and tight. “There you go.”

“Cheetah print, really?”

“Just special for you, my little hellcat. Don’t worry, you can take it off tomorrow.” He rolls out on the stool and goes around to stand just in front of the bench. Briefly, he meets Steve’s eyes, and they have a short, non-verbal conversation, at the end of which Steve nods smally in agreement. “Okay,” Bucky says, reaching out to palm Lena’s face.

She automatically goes to shirk away from it, but Steve whispers something in her ear—Bucky doesn’t hear what—and it makes her settle. She bites her lip and peeks up at Bucky through her lashes and ruined makeup. “I was good,” she whispers, like she’s half-sure Bucky’s going to revoke his end of the deal.

He tries not to let it show on his face, how that hurts him. “Yeah, sweetheart. You were very good.” He bends over to kiss the top of her head, then turns and searches out Belova. She’s standing next to Maximoff now, over at the bar. Bucky goes over and holds out his hand. Pietro shakes first, Yelena second. “Thank you,” he tells them. “For bringing her back safely.”

“Again,” Yelena says with a smirk and a semi-suppressed eyeroll.

“You should get a leash,” Pietro jokes.

“Or a homing beacon.”

Bucky waves them off (though the homing beacon idea has occurred before), telling them to go back to their drinks and enjoy their evening. He doesn’t bother asking if the Gleb issue’s been dealt with—he knows from the look on Belova’s face that it has.

Part four

Masterlist

If you like what you read and feel so inclined, please consider dropping a tip in the Kofi🍵 cup!

Commissions: contact via Tumblr messenger or here

[myinconnelly1]

Hard at Work - A Small Trip

Summary: Katie Thompson is good at solving problems, so naturally when an offer for a work study at Stark Tower arrives, she signs up. Will her Omega designation help or hinder the training of the new superheroes.

Word Count: 956

Masterlist

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, Masturbation (Male), Dark thoughts, Possessiveness, corny flirting

Katie had grabbed her bag quickly and rushed away from Tony’s office a little faster than she would have been proud to admit.  She was so absorbed in her on thoughts that she didn’t even notice when she walked past Steve Rogers, and Katie would never let that meeting slide past her otherwise.

Steve on the other hand knew everything about Katie from the single waft of her scent as she rushed by.  He had marched straight to his room and locked himself in.  He had never been this intoxicated by an omega’s scent before.  He had been locked in for two hours now and was currently stroking himself slowly for the third time as the spicy scent that Katie had left him with wound itself into his mind.  The first time he had cum he had barely touched himself before popping his knot.  But even that didn’t stop him from jerking himself to a fast and breathless second release.

Steve could tell from the brunt spiciness of the omega, that she was coy little brat.  She probably knew exactly what she was doing with that little skirt that she had worn into Stark Tower.  He knew that she was playing hard to get with the way that she held her binder in front of her breasts.  He bet they were firm, as he squeezed his cock and groaned.  He wanted to spill him cum all over her breasts.

He had been a sweet boy from Brooklyn before he went into the ice seventy years ago.  He had not been kissed until Peggy, but when they thawed him he refused to live his second life as a virgin.  What was the point in being a famous superhero if you didn’t get the pretty girls that you rescued.

Steve choked slightly as he came again thinking about Katie.  Breathless and with a small amount of blood on her, she thanked him.  In his fantasy, he had just rescued her from a small army, and she knew of a way to thank Captain America for saving her.  In fact, she had been saving herself for him.

Katie had rushed back to her apartment, packed her small little bags and rushed down to hail a taxi in the rush hour of New York.  She turned the street corner to get a better spot to hail the cab and walked straight into someone.

“Crap!”  She yelped helplessly as she started to fall backwards reaching out for anything to grab onto.  The sleek material in front of her was the only thing she managed to grab as she went downward and back, realizing too late that she was bringing whatever she had grabbed with her.

“Shit, are you okay?”  The solid form of the man who had landed on top of her asked.  Katie had grabbed him by the tie and after bumping into him.  He had managed to get his hands behind her head and protected her from concrete when she thumped to the ground with a small ‘oof’.

“I am so sorry; I need to do a better job of paying attention.  I was just looking for a ride.”  She stilled once the words were all out of her mouth, and she realized he had landed between her legs.  Their position could not have been more intimate if they had planned it.  He chuckled quietly before reaching for something beside her side.

“I could give you one, but I don’t think that you would get very far,” He teased as he moved to kneel.  It was then that Katie realized he had grabbed a red tipped white cane.

“Oh my God, I took down a blind person.  I’m the worst,” She groaned, and he laughed.  “I’m Katie by the way, in case you want to press charges or something.”  She had given up on trying to think her way into a good line with the handsome stranger. 

“Negligent clumsiness is the next big threat to New York.  Twenty percent of people claim to have been victims from nervous pretty girls walking into them,” He was still grinning as he stood up and offered a hand out to help her up.  “I’m Matt by the way.”

“That’s a good one,” She giggled and stood up.  “Can I pay for your cab ride?”

“Will you share it with me?”  He asked.  Katie blushed.  She had never talked with anyone so direct.  She knew alphas could be abrupt like this, but Matt’s scent marked him as a beta.  “I’m making you uncomfortable, sorry,” He said as he tilted his head to listen to something.

“No, I was just surprised.  Where are you heading to?”  She asked putting her arm up and out to flag a taxicab.

“I’d rather not say it out loud on the street.  It might draw the wrong kind of attention,” he whispered conspiratorially.  Katie laughed at this.

“Fine, Mr. secretive.  You can tell it to the cab driver and if it’s in the right direction, I’ll ride with you.” 

“Deal,”  He jumped on it.  “You’re bleeding.”

“What?”  She asked looking at him quizzically.

“On your back, I think you scraped yourself when you fell.”  He gestured behind her as she felt her back.  There was a small scrape, but it would be fine she decided.

“It’s okay, thanks.  How did you do that?”  She asked as the taxi pulled up to the curb.  She opened the door, and Matt grabbed her elbow gently.  She was surprised at first but realized it was probably to guide himself into the vehicle.

“Where too?”  the cabbie asked.

“The Stark Campus,” Matt said as he adjusted to make himself comfortable on the far side of the car.  “Is it on your way?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Boy that was some conflicting thoughts. Cute flirting and dark possessiveness in the same fic!

What do you think? Are you ready for classes to start?

[stellar-solar-flare]

🍂 leaves: what does your editing process look like? how does your wip typically change as you work on it?

👻 ghost: can you tease some wip ideas that have been haunting you/something you want to write in the future?

💜💜

This ask is in response to October Themed Writeblr Ask Game. I apologize for taking forever to answer, and thank you for sending an ask!

Answers as well as a 1k sneak peek to a werewolf Bucky x Reader, Steve x OFC fic I'm very excited about is under the cut!

🍂 leaves: what does your editing process look like? how does your wip typically change as you work on it?

Depends on the fic, really. I don't outline or do a first draft in the very pure sense of the world - I aim to write pretty finished text since my way of writing is mostly about telling myself a story. My editing usually only involves making sure things make sense and elaborating where I need to, such as adding descriptions in between dialogue to make the scene more vivid, or changing sentence structure so that it flows better.

I usually finish an entire scene or even a short chapter before editing, but especially with longer chapters, I often edit in between writing new text since it's a good way for me to get in the flow and do something creative during the days when I don't feel super creative and bright. Most stuff that I publish goes through four phases: 1) writing, 2) general editing, 3) quick once-over, and finally 4) fixes and polishing once it's back from my beta reader (who is a precious angel with the patience of a saint and who always makes my chapters better).

I would say time-wise, writing takes about 70 percent of the time a chapter takes and the rest is editing, unless I end up doing a huge overhaul to a chapter, which happens pretty rarely.

👻 ghost: can you tease some wip ideas that have been haunting you/something you want to write in the future?

Sure! This one is something that right now has a working title Under a Violent Moon. A slow burn romantasy would be how I'd describe it, with some horror and action elements. It'll be an EXPLICIT fic when out but this sneak peek doesn't involve anything beyond a T rating.

CW: kidnapping, mentioned violence, mentioned mob life

The basic premise is that there exists a werewolf underground society that has a lot of mob elements to it - everyone sort of knows about it but it's not something that anyone would want to associate with unless you're looking to do bad stuff. Reader sees Bucky do something that she (or any outsider) should not see, and he panics and forcefully (but not violently) brings her with her to the magically protected place of residence of the pack and in front of Steve, who is the alpha of the pack.

🌙.

There was no sound – at least one you would’ve been able to hear – but regardless, both Bucky and Steve quieted down in the middle of their argument, as if someone had severed their conversation with a sharp knife. Your gaze followed theirs as they turned their heads towards the entrance of the hall and the short woman that had entered.

Save for Steve in his three-piece suit, all the members of the pack that had gathered in the hall favored a mixture of military and hiking clothing. The woman who was now making her way to you was the other exception to the rule; she was clad in a floor-length, flowing white silk dress that would’ve been suitable for a bride at a relaxed beach wedding. Its boat neckline would’ve left her shoulders and arms bare, but her almost white platinum hair spilled down her upper body in a luxurious cascade. Despite it, you could see the scars on her collarbones and arms, and she had brushed her hair away from the left side of the her neck to wear the bite there like a badge of honor.

You did not know which honor, and yet, she carried herself with pride that would’ve hinted at someone important even if every head in the hall hadn’t gently bowed down as she passed. Her eyes, burning bright yellow that shone its own light, locked onto you, and her lips curved up to a smile you didn’t know how to decipher. There was something deeply unsettling abut her, as if the ethereal beauty was simply a skin she wore to get close enough to her prey. She stood against the practical impression you had gotten of everyone else – she was a seeress from a myth, somehow present here and yet truly a citizen of entirely another world.

She was loaded with jewelry; it sparkled on her hair and neck and wrists and even the dress was belted with more platinum and pearls and colorless and yellow diamonds. On her left ring finger sat a giant round diamond flanked by two crescent moons, all set in platinum. Her gaze left you and found another target, her expression melting into a smile. Again, you turned your head to follow the direction of her eyes.

You had thought that getting kidnapped by a werewolf mob would’ve rendered anything else that happened today as entirely unsurprising, and yet, you were struck with shock as you saw Steve, who held the otherworldly woman’s gaze.

The change on him was almost laughable and yet, it made your throat feel tight. He was looking at her with bright, glowing eyes that shone with love and affection, with the kind of smile on his face that would’ve made you believe that she’d personally reached up into the skies and pushed aside the clouds of eternal night to reveal the full moon for him. You hade never seen such warmth and devotion on anyone’s face, and to see it on the face of a werewolf alpha was such a strange thought that it took you a moment to recognize the emotion lingering in your chest as jealousy. Not for Steve but for the love that she had.

You had hear many tales of werewolves – how they were cruel, brutal creatures, more animals than humans and thus unable to process higher emotions than those that followed directly from their animalistic needs. The unconcealable beacon of affection that shone on Steve’s face was the complete antithesis to those claims. No one in the world would have been able to look at him and consider it anything but love stemming from the depths of one’s very soul.

The woman stopped in front of you, turning so that you were standing face to face. Her wolf-eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you felt fear beyond anything you had yet experienced. Whatever power she carried, so plain to see and yet so hidden, was one thing – every hair on your body stood up in her presence as some long-forgotten instinct attempted to define a threat it had could not classify.

The way Steve had been looking at her was another. It was obvious that if anyone would do as much as look at her the wrong way, he would tear them into pieces with his bare hands. They had not spoken, and yet Steve stepped behind her and wrapped his giant arms around her midriff, engulfing her in an embrace and a measure of protection at the same time. She melted back against him, and in the flickering candlelight of the hall, it was almost impossible to say where one of them ended and the other began.

“What brought you here, little human?” she asked, and while the words could’ve been an insult – especially from someone who seemed like she was in her thirties herself, not much older than you if at all – they were too gentle to be that. “It is not often that any eyes that aren’t of the pack see what lies behind our gates.”

You swallowed past your dry throat. The cadence of her speech, as well as the old-fashioned words, reminded you of how different this world was to the one you’d known. Did that mean they would never let you go? But she didn’t seem to be accusing you of anything; she was waiting for your answer patiently, her pale fingers brushing over Steve’s forearm in a caress. The rings that were there somehow made the giant rock of the wedding band look even more enormous.

“I wasn’t given a choice,” you said carefully, deciding that the truth was the best option here.

She smiled. Her hand smoothed another touch over Steve’s forearm, and then she turned her arm so that she could entwine her fingers with his – as your gaze was drawn there, you saw a simple gold wedding band on Steve’s left hand, too. He made a humming sound against her temple as the rings clinked against each other, and her expression turned even softer.

“Fate rarely gives us a choice,” she said gently to you before turning to Bucky, who was standing frozen next to you. “You have brought a human here. You know our ways; you know our law. You know what follows.”  

🌙.

[springlibrary]

Fic & Author Recommendations Wrapped 2022

This is a first I am doing this but I felt that I want to share what I’ve been reading for the past couple of months. 

Some authors you may already know and some, maybe not yet. But what they all have in common is that they make really amazing stories which I believe should be shared to everyone.

The categories will simply be separated by Dark and Non-Dark. I think it’s easier that way, but I will mention either way if they (the non-dark ones) are fluff, angst or simply smut. 

Dark

Unsolicited (Lloyd Hansen x Reader) by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Summary: You run into a rude stranger at the mall, but this won’t be just another chance encounter.

All in the Family (Silverfox!Loki x Reader) by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ Summary: Your new boyfriend invites you to meet his parents for the holidays.

Wallflower (Silverfox!Thor x Reader) by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​​ Summary: Your mother meets a new man, but he doesn’t seem very interested in her.

High Value Hero (Steve Rogers x Reader) by @rustytricycle Summary: America’s golden boy, Steve Rogers, doesn’t have the most modern view of women behind closed doors. And the podcasts his buddy Sam has introduced him to don’t help the situation. Unfortunately for you, you catch his eye when you become his next door neighbor.

The Fall of Aphrodite (ThorKi x Reader) by @cherienymphe Summary: You have the hearts of both of the princes, but nothing good lasts forever.

If I can’t have you (Andy Barber x Reader) by @cockslutpadalecki​ Summary: After your professor calls off your affair, you won’t take no for an answer. Andy loves you and you love him— you’re meant to be.​

Fixer-Upper (Lumberjack!Steve x Reader) by @straywords​ Summary: You move to the countryside but life isn’t the cottage daydream you hoped for.

Grey

Put You In Your Place (Stepdad!Andy Barber x Stepdaughter!Reader) by @cockslutpadalecki Summary: Andy is sick of his stepdaughter continuously stepping out of line, and when he catches her spiking the punch at Jacob’s sixteenth birthday party, he’s had enough. It’s time he teaches her a lesson.

Show Some Respect (James Conrad x OFC) by @ladycamillewrites Summary: Louise, the adventurous daughter of a Marine General was assigned Capt. Conrad’s expedition troop. Soon tempers clash and Conrad has to make his position clear.

Non-Dark

Legend: 💚 - Smut / 💙 - Fluff / 💔 - Angst

Poker Face (Loki x Reader) by @mochie85​​ 💚 ​ Summary: Will you win a game of strip poker against the god of mischief?

It’s Always Been You (Loki x Reader) by @sarahscribbles​​ 💙 ​ Summary: Loki follows you from the Yule celebration with one question on his mind.

Come Around Sundown (Tattooed!DBF!Steve Rogers x Reader) by @cockslutpadalecki​ 💚 ​ Summary: What happens at Christmas is never just a one time thing, and when summer break rolls around, you find yourself repeating past mistakes. Or is it a mistake?

Chocolate and Promises (Loki x F!Reader) by @michelleleewise​ 💔💙 Summary: You have been friends with Loki awhile, so when he locks himself away you make it your mission to get to the bottom of it.​

Give these writers some lovin’ and don’t forget to reblog if you liked their fics. Likes are nothing but reblogs are everything. Also, feedback is key! Enjoy! 💖

p.s. you can also send me some of your recommendations. Just slide in my ask or my DMs.

[awesomerextyphoon]

Realm Discoveries While Hangry

Summary: Ife's not herself while hangry, especially on a mission. Luckily, this one worked out for the best.

Pairing: Slight Steve Rogers x Black!Alien Warrior Princess OFC Ifekerenma aka Ife

Characters: Natasha, Steve, Ifekerenma, Nick Fury, OFCs, mentions of Tony Stark and Bruce Banner

Rating: 18 + / Mature

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: Dark Comedy Bordering on Absurdity, Ife being a Badass Glutton, Some Violence, Some Fluff

A/N: This is the start of something a little different. I want to make some short stories that will tie back into the main series whenever I'm between chapters. I'm still working on the main series and the next chapter will be published before the end of 2023. Thanks to @firefly-graphics for the dividers!

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

What was with these supposed 'geniuses' always wanting to rule the world?

The amount of hubris one needed to go through with it never ceased to amaze Natasha. This week's version wanted revenge on the science community for calling him 'stupid' and 'crazy' over his theories on creating titan fauna and megaflora.

Someone, please shoot me.

If Nat had a dollar each time she heard some version of the 'Why I must hold the world hostage' speech, she'd be able to bribe Tony to let her control the music for mission trips.

Steve wished they would drop the speeches already. He just hoped Ife was almost done with the power cells so they could drop the charade and go home.

"Now! Watch as I claim what's rightfully mine!" the mad scientist finally finished his speech by pressing the detonation button, but nothing happened.

" What's happening? Why isn't working?!"He pressed the button another three times to no effect, "Why aren't the missiles firing?!"

The mad scientist was about to radio his henchmen outside of the main chamber when he heard bullets pouring like rain outside the hangar followed by frantic shouts from his men.

"SOMEONE STOP HER!!"

"NOTHING'S WORKING!!"

"GET THE TANKS!!"

"FIRE AT WILL!!"

"WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE?!!"

"SHE'S AN ABOMINATION!!"

"What on Earth is going on out there?" He wondered as he carefully made his way to the entrance, only for a downright beastly roar frightening nearly everyone into silence.

"What the" A soft knock at the hangar doors broke his concentration.

Ife was pissed.

She FINALLY had some decent food after not getting a chance to refuel after expending her energy reserves from her last mission, but it was barely a morsel. It took no time to devour all of the titan fauna the henchmen unleashed on her, unaware those were inferior albeit still tasty versions of food from her homeworld. She even found some yummy megaflora.

It was a bummer Ife was famished. She would've prepared them better to bring out their flavors.

Another tank shell bounced off of her.

When will these fools learn that this is pointless? Conventional Earth weapons are nothing to her. Well, at least the energy from their artillery aided with digestion. Also, the power cells were tasty; they had a refreshing tropical fruity taste with notes of mint.

Now the scientist refused to open up, even after she knocked, "Guess I'll have to let myself in."

The scientist tried his best to steel himself, only for the two-meter thick air hangar doors and part of the solid stone walls to rip off like cheap wrapping paper.

His eyes almost bugged out of their sockets at the intruder — a tall woman — casually lifting both doors in one hand and a 250-ton tank in the other. The woman turned to two tied-up Avengers, smiled, and threw both items 1500 meters away with a flick of her wrists.

"Hi, Captain, Black Widow. How's it going?"

"Can't complain," Steve answered.

"Why haven't you escaped yet? It would've taken you two seconds to get out," Ife queried rubbing her growling tummy. Her telltale sign of hunger.

"We were waiting for you," Nat retorted while raising an eyebrow.

This will be fun.

"What happened to your comms link?"

"Well…I was preoccupied."

"With what?"

The woman's eyes brightened, "I found some yummy food not unlike Avlenia, but they barely did anything for me. I ate everything the goons unleashed and then some, but I'm still hungry! Which sucks cuz I wasn't able to properly prepare them-"

That can't be right.

That chamber housed hundreds of exotic beasts and flora with a combined weight of 312.5 THOUSAND TONS!! There was no way a single person could eat one of those behemoths, let alone all of them.

"MONSTER!!"

"Huh?" Ife finally noticed the scientist and his remaining goons.

"Do you have any more? I'm STARVING!"

"No one should eat one of those beasts, let alone all of them!"

Ife raised an annoyed eyebrow. "Maybe not possible for humans, but, "she strolled towards the scientist and started unzipping her combat suit, "that was only a snack for me, and it left me hungry for more."

The scientist cried out in horror when a belly 3x the size of an exercise ball surged forth.

How is she moving?! His eyes darted over to her comrades but found them lightly chuckling with the spy sporting a smirk.

"So, do you have any more food? Don't leave me in suspense."

The monster rolled her eyes at the rude man's silence, "So you still don't believe me. Okay. Let's see. One of the beasts was this large six-legged alligator…"

She started listing the various beasts and megaflora that were now digesting in her rapidly shrinking belly.

Galala Gator: 90 tons each, Ox Chicken: 15 tons each, Giant Turkey: 75 tons each, Volcano Weathercock: 10 tons each, Five-Tailed Giant Eagle: 45 tons each, Demon Devil Serpent:100 tons each, Elephantsaurus: 125 tons each, and so on.

Every 'food item' this monster blithely listed horrified everyone besides her teammates who were trying not to laugh. Each of these specimens took elite teams to capture; several men died in the process.

Yet this Eldritch Being glutted all of their hard-won gains as a 'pitiful snack'!

"How? How is this possible?" The devastated scientist barely choked out a whisper as her enormous belly was nearly flat.

Unfortunately, the monster's sharp ears heard the whisper, "All of those delicious beasts, flora, and the energy from the power cells barely made a dent! Tell me where you got this bounty! I'm Starving!"

As if to make her point, the monster turned her head towards the hole she made and let out a near-deafening roar of a belch demolishing what was left of the wall and pushing back all of the remaining men and tanks outside.

What is this monstrosity?!

"Shit!" Not only did the wimp not answer Ife's question, but now he's slumped on the floor.

"He's out cold, Ife."

"I can see that, Nat. All I wanted was some more food!"

"Some?"

"Fine. But you know he didn't make them from scratch. He had to have gotten from somewhere."

Some of the stronger-nerved goons were able to recover from Ife's Roar, "Damn, that woman's scary!"

"Nah, man. She's a monster in human skin."

"Which is a shame, too. She's fucking hot!"

"I know, right?! Wouldn't mind going a few rounds with her."

Steve scowled as he marched up to six of the trash-talking goons inside one of the still intact tanks, ripped off the tank's hatch, and yanked four of them by their collars."I'm only gonna say this once. Never, and I mean never, say that crap about my team. Especially the 'abomination', got it?" his voice never rising above a calm, measured tone.

"Yes!"

Steve felt he needed to drive this home, "Yes, what?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Good."

Nat rolled her eyes at Ife's bashful body posture at Steve defending her. They weren't fooling anyone.

Ife was able to pick up the scent of more delectable beasts and flew off to satisfy her voracious appetite. The scent came from a fortified bunker not far from the main base. She ripped off the building by the foundation in her haste to fill her hunger void.

It led her to a heavily fortified manmade cavern with a huge portal at the opposite end of the entrance and containment units housing even more of the delectable beasts lining the sides.

She licked her lips in excitement but stopped when she got a good look at the animals. That craven of a scientist is lucky she's too hungry to revisit him.

"I should probably tell Nat and Steve."

Nat peered into the last unlocked containment unit. She found a giant garden snake-like creature that seemed to take a liking to her. Its scales were the color of twilight at its height. She wondered if-

"You should name her."

Nat nearly swiveled her head, "What?"

"She likes you. You should name her."

"How can you tell?"

"I just know," Ife shrugged.

"Hmm. How about сумерки (Sumerki: twilight)?"

The snake affectionately rubbed her head against the reinforced glass containment wall.

"See? She loves it!"

Sumerki was the last beast on this side of the portal and was about to pass through but turned and playfully poked Ife's midsection.

"You want me to come with you?" The snake nodded.

Ife turned back to Steve and Nat, "Umm, can I-" her stomach roared asking the question for her.

"It's alright, Ife. You can go, but don't be long." Steve rubbed his hand behind his head. Neither of them wanted to deal with a hangry Ife.

Ife flew into his warm embrace, "Thank you so much!" She kissed both his cheeks, "I promise to document everything I see!"

When will those lovable dorks admit they love each other?

It wasn't long before Ife and Sumerki came back smiling and sporting enormous food bellies. Ife sped off before she could say anything. The next thing they heard was a five-minute sonic roar of a belch causing mini-tremors and cracks forming on the ground.

Sounds of her epic belch were heard 15km away.

They were glad that the scientist was stationed in the middle of nowhere.

Ife flew back into Steve's arms, "Thanks again!" Ife smiled as Steve returned the hug.

Both Natasha and Sumerki shook their heads wearing the same expression.

Ife pulled out her tablet and personal interface, "Okay, so my hunch was right and this place is incredibly vast. I was only able to explore .25% of the place."

Even Natasha was taken aback by the amount of information Ife had, "Just how big is this place?"

"So this new 'realm' is called Guloxity?"

Fury turned the last page of Ife's extensive report. He had a laugh at her devouring over 300K tons of food and was still famished.

The whole team had a laugh riot. Tony even joked about how much he'd save on grocery bills—even though she provides most of her food. It's the least he could do since he blackmailed her into joining the team.

Thanks to her, SHIELD has access to a new realm. Plus the snake she and Natasha befriended has been a delight. However, he did wonder how Ife and her friends were able to create a habitat and a size modulator so quickly.

"Do you find the terms agreeable?" Aliza looked back at Fury's desk. The deal stipulates that any findings and all findings SHIELD makes involving the new realm must be free and open to the public. This means that all patents and research can not be owned by any single nation or corporation including Stark Industries.

Banner had consoled Stark when he read out the terms.

No matter. Fury had his best people on this new venture. Even managed to rope in Banner and Dr. Cho. Ife was able to recreate the unique energy signature from the mad scientist's power cells as a source of renewable energy.

In the end, he was glad it worked out.

Now what's this about Ife showcasing new dishes based on what she found in Guloxity?

Taglist: @jobean12-blog @lookiamtrying @angrythingstarlight @gotnofucks @saiyanprincessswanie @navybrat817 @plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms @idorkish @sgt-seabass

[marvelvillian23]

Does anyone know any Basement Wife fics. Multi chapter preferably but any fic will do.

[lulu-reads]

Need to catch up with this masterlist too.

Masterlist

Updated 9/26/24

What’s New?

Mine - Part 4 - (7/21/24)

Need You Now - (8/15/24)

Mine to Ruin - (8/23/24)

Rightfully His - (9/4/24)

Lovestruck - (9/13/24)

Weekend Loving - (9/26/24)

Coming Soon

What Do You Desire?

Mine - Part 5

Love of my Life - Autumn writing challenge 2

Chrome & Leather - Chapter 19

Civil War Brooklyn - Chapter 18

Marvel Series

Smut & Fluff

Dark Fics

Challenges

Taglists are open! Please let me know if you want to be added to a series taglist or permanent taglist. See link in bio.

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. 🚫🚫

Marvel Series, Smut & Fluff, Dark Series and Challenge Moodboard by @fictional-affairs

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [4 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: You earn your water for the journey to Tarrath—and more importantly, a place in the pack. 

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse

“You know what this is?” Carol’s displeasure with your distinct lack of tracking skill is evident as she squats down, poking a finger hard into the dust. You squint as you reach for an answer, knowing you won’t find one. She sighs heavily. 

“This is deer-sign,” she says, motioning for you to squat down like her. You do, the ragged remains of your skirt pooling around you. It’s riddled with holes now, long tears spreading up from the filthy hem that go almost to your knees. The pack isn’t scandalized by the sight of your ankles, however, and your concern for modesty in the face of your very survival is surprisingly low, so you haven’t bothered trying to repair them.

Carol fingers the snapped shafts of grass, their feathered tips bowed low. “You see the way it’s broken? With the prints, you can tell it’s gone this way. If you can’t smell it.” She adds, and you sigh. 

“You know I cannot.”  She shakes her head at your unsatisfactory response, furrowing her brows. 

“How do your people even hunt?” She complains exasperatedly, standing up to her full height.

“Skill.” You answer dryly. “And no small amount of luck, in my case,” you mutter, wiping your hands on your skirts as you stand. “This way?”

“Yes.” 

You’re practically swallowed by the grass, barely able to see over the top of it standing on your toes—so it takes you longer to see it than Carol. Her eyes narrow, ivory white fangs hanging down over her lips as she scents the air and  grins. 

“We’re close.” You can’t smell anything but the dry, hot wind pushing your sweat-laden hair back from your face. What you see, though, are the three-pronged hoof prints in the dirt that tell of the animal that came this way, the tufts of downy coat left snagged on the brush. You pinch the soft hair between your fingers, and sniff it as Carol nods encouragingly. It’s musky, with a distinct animal smell that makes you grimace. 

“Get your bow ready.” You do, pulling it from the strap on your back. It’s heavy; the buckle is almost as big as your head, but Carol had cut the leather down to size for you, slicing off a piece almost the length of your arm with the hunting knife at her side. 

“Show me how you draw. No, not like that. Here.” You feel like a child, the way she scolds the position of your hands when you draw back the string. “Were you an orc wean, you’d have been born with a bow in hand. But I suppose it isn’t abysmal for someone who first held one a day ago.” 

She leads you through the shifting grass-sea, crawling through the dust towards a stunted copse of dry trees. You stay low, mirroring Carol’s low-squat as she makes her way through. She is careful not to break any branches, taking her time to pick her way through the brush as quietly as possible. And therefore, so are you. There is water here—a little. You can taste the way it saturates the air, and a thrill passes through you. Water, here, means prey. 

The two of you stay low, approaching the muddy little pool with baited breath. The air is still, liable to shift at any moment, but Carol doesn’t seem nervous. You are, though, your palms moist and your heart beating so hard you fear everything within a mile can hear it. 

There, on the other side of the pool, is the deer. It’s a fully grown stag, his long, spiraling horns at least twice the length of your arms. There is nothing soft in the grasslands, your father had said, the words scented sour with ale. Everything eats, and is eaten. The stag has short, thick, wiry fur, with a tail that was long, like a lizard’s. You watch as it leans down toward the muddy puddle, snuffling through it with a long, pointed snout.

You draw back on the string as he stands up, nostrils flaring. It digs into the meat of your fingers as you pull back with all your strength and let go, the arrow whistling through the air to strike the stag through the fore-shank. It’s mouth opens too wide as it shrieks, the sound echoing out into the wilderness. 

“Move!” Carol yells as the stag paws the ground with its good leg, bloody foam frothing around its nostrils. It charges only a moment later, turning the dry, hollowed out trees you’d been using for cover into splinters and kindling. You roll away, the metallic stench of its blood strong in your nostrils and your own heart thundering in you ears. You push yourself up to your feet, your hand going to the quiver at your back. 

The stag’s tail whips excitedly behind it as it snaps its jaws, circling you.  You can smell it, the hot copper of its blood, the sweat gleaming on its flanks and the sour tang of your own fear. The stag lowers its head, its horns pointed straight at your chest as it charges. You barely have time to aim, bringing the bow up and loosing the arrow. 

It thuds wetly into the stag’s chest, and with another horrible scream it collapses into the dust, skidding to a stop just inches from you. Your own chest is heaving as you stare at its body, wide eyed. It feels like you aren’t getting any air as you gulp down breaths that taste of hot dust and fresh blood. You watch as the stag twitches in the dust, its chest heaving once, twice, before its amber eyes go dark. Your legs give out, dropping you to your knees in the dirt. 

Carol emerges from the brush on the other side of the stag’s body, but you do not see her, not really, your eyes locked on the thick arrows protruding from its hide like misbegotten horns. She smooths a hand over its eyes, closing them, before she squats over the carcass. Silently, she jabs a thumb into one of its sluggishly bleeding wounds, before crouching in front of you. She grabs your chin, before swiping her bloody fingers down over your cheeks.

She gives you a pleased look as she stands away, and you lightly touch the streaky marks of sticky red she’s left on your skin, your brows furrowing with confusion. 

“You earned them.” She says proudly, painting another few stripes on your forehead for good measure. Carol helps you drag your kill back to camp, a murmur passing through the pack at the sight of you. Steve es sat by the water, his broadsword laid across his thighs as he cleans it. He stands as you approach, and you duck your head as he inspects the stag. Your breath hitches in your throat as he reaches for you, one massive finger sliding beneath your chin as he tilts it up. 

“Let them see your honor, little hunter,” he says, smoothing his thumb gently over one of Carol’s marks. “Let them see.” 

to be continued…

next

[sarahowritesostucky]

Ignore it if you're uncomfortable💕

Reader catching Steve eating um... "meat" or put suspicion on foods he cook cuz it's a little different from usual meat😔

Idk choose one or maybe both or maybe none

ANYTHING FOR STEVE KAMP I'M EVAPORATING RN

This will be a story told in infrequent, anachronistic snippets, as I love the story idea but don't really want to commit to another WIP. I hope you enjoy!

📖"Amuse Bouche"

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Steve Kemp x Reader

Tags: cannibalism, held hostage, basement wife, captor/captive, dark Steve

Summary: Amuse-Bouche (/əˌmuːzˈbuːʃ/; French; N.) : to delight the mouth.

You feel your ears buzzing as you sit across the island, frozen in place. The soft sounds of Steve's knife against the cutting board drumming in your ears inordinately loud, warring with the drum of your own thundering pulse. You lick your lips nervously, biting your tongue to keep from saying anything.

"Everything okay, Hon?"

You blink, startled out of your thoughts and surprised to find Steve staring at you from where he's working, his eyes boring into you, rather than the raw meat under his hand, the chef's knife in the other. Your heart pounds hard in your chest, and you're sure he can hear it, can tell exactly what you're thinking.

What are you thinking?

"Y-yeah," you stammer, forcing a smile. Oh god, he can tell. He knows what you're -

"Good." His smile is sweet and honest, unsuspecting, and he goes back to his work on the cutting board. You swallow, your mouth horribly dry. "Just hungry, huh?" Steve smirks down at his bloodied hands. "Really worked up an appetite this afternoon."

You chuckle nervously, shifting in place on the barstool. "Haha, yep. Yeah."

"Mm. Well I know how to fix that," he says. Eyes still on the meat.

You look down nervously to it again, and away again before he can catch you looking and see the thoughts going through your head. You avert your gaze around the kitchen. - the beautiful kitchen.

It'd seemed like such an easy mark. Middle of nowhere, no visible security. Single occupant who went away for hours at a time. It'd been easy to case. You'd thought you'd make out good on this one. Just one more job. A little more money to get you in a good spot. Then you'd go straight.

It hadn't worked out that way.

The links on your cuff make a quiet sound as you shift. You reach for your wine glass and take a big sip. It slides over your tongue in a burst of flavors: fruity and lush, decadent yet light. It's red wine, a Beaujolais, your favorite. Steve always pours it for you before dinner, and you always drink it as you watch him cook.

Lately you've been drinking it faster.

Your eyes are back on the bloody cutting board when Steve's amused voice jars you back to attention,

"Need another pour already?"

Your eyes jerk up to him in fright, and it must show on your face, because he sobers. "Hon? What is it?"

You fake another smile - something you've gotten quite good at, ever since you woke up one day in a carpeted cell. "Nothing," you assure him, batting your eyelashes and drinking the last few sips from your glass. You set it back down on the counter. "I think I would like some more, please."

Steve squints at you briefly, concerned, or maybe suspicious, but your smile seems to do the trick and he sighs good naturedly. "Okay, why not?" He sets the knife down on the cutting board and turns his back to you, going to the sink to rinse his hands. "I'm chilling a white for the main, and I thought we could have that honey wine with dessert."

"Oh." You can't keep your eyes off the cutting board - on the carefully trimmed hunks of meat that don't taste like anything you've ever had before ... and on the knife. "That sounds nice."

Steve chuckles. "My little woman loves her dessert wines."

You could reach it. It's within reach. If you just leant across the counter, you'd be able to -

Steve 's hand appears in your field of vision and you flinch. He's reaching to take your empty glass. He eyes you knowingly as he pours from the bottle of Beaujolais. You expect him to say something, but he just finishes pouring and slides the glass back across the countertop to you. "There you go," he says, staring at you.

You lick your lips and swallow heavily, feeling caught. He knows. "Thank you, Steve," you whisper.

The edge of his mouth twitches up. "You're welcome, Little thief."

Your guts churn at the words he's somehow turned into a term of endearment. Steve's no fool. He knew you'd look. He put the knife within reach to test you, and you've failed the test. Internally you sigh, and you meekly sip your wine. You've got a long time to go before you'll be able to get the better of him.

"What's for dinner?" you ask, resigned, eyes back on the mystery meat.

"Rosemary."

"What?" You look up at him, catching the tail end of something indecipherable in his eyes. "Rosemary?" you ask, heart beating faster.

"Mm." He nods and goes to pull something out of the fridge. He returns with a bundle of green herbs. Your shoulders slump. Oh. rosemary. Right. "I'm cooking it sous vide with herbs," he says, and starts plucking the needles off the stalk. "Rosemary, Thyme, bit of sage."

You nod vacantly, thinking of the Francisco Goya that Steve has hanging in the hallway: Saturn Devouring His Son. You used to appreciate his quirky taste in art, had planned to get rich off it. But now you're starting to suspect there's something else to it.

Still, you know it'll infuriate Steve if you refuse to eat the food he's prepared for you, so you focus on sipping your wine steadily, hoping to maybe get another pour in before the meal.

You don't ask what it is that he's cooking sous vide. But deep down, you think you know.

This has been a fill for: @badthingshappenbingo

Card: sarah-writes-stucky / sarahyellow

Square O4: Kidnapping

Masterlist

[myinconnelly1]

Hard at Work - The Interview

Summary: Katie Thompson is good at solving problems, so naturally when an offer for a work study at Stark Tower arrives, she signs up. Will her Omega designation help or hinder the training of the new superheroes.

Word Count: 812

Masterlist

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, heat mentioned

Katie shouldn’t feel this hot.  She knew that heats got worse as you got older, but she had only had two others in her life.  Hell, she wasn’t even old enough to drink her problems.  She huffed as she let her hands run over her breasts slowly, in the way that she wanted to be touched but hadn’t.

In the silence of the library, she let her eyes drift closed.  She had let the air conditioning invite her into the forest of fantasies, away from the humid heat of the late evening.  The whole building would be empty at this time of night, and she should have been in her room for sleep but the need to move had brought her out sneaking around the campus.  She only hoped that wasn’t caught by any of the Avenger’s.  She didn’t want to be kicked out of her work study. 

A sigh left her parted lips as she touched herself slowly letting her feeling build as the heat started to take over her senses.  She thought about the alpha she wished was touching her right now.  How soft his hair would feel as she ran her fingers through it.  She wondered how he would sound as he touched her and felt her. 

3 Weeks earlier

“Ms. Thompson?  The boss will see you now.”  Katie startled as she heard the sultry tone of the AI in Stark tower.  “Just go through the second door.”  It was impressive to her that Tony Stark had managed to program a computer with the idiosyncrasies of an accent.

“Thanks,” Katie said nervously, then went through the indicated door.  “Good afternoon, Mr. Stark”

“Katherine Thompson, Boss,” Friday introduced her to the superhero fidgeting with a design.

“Thanks, Friday.  I kinda hate small talk, so let’s cut right to it.  I saw from the questionnaire that you filled out you’re fairly new to your designation, and that your teachers mostly give you good grades.  How do you feel about cameras?”  Tony just jumped into his questions with no time for Katie to prepare for the abruptness of his questions.

“Well, I flunked Drama class in high school and never went back,” She laughed nervously.  “But in general, I don’t have a problem with them.”

“Good, I have them all over the campus.  Is there any special reason I should bring you on board for this work study?”  He asked.  Tony still hadn’t looked at her he was working some kind of 3D puzzle design.  Katie hated that question in interviews though.  She was smart enough to get by but some of her decisions got her in trouble.  And no matter how hard she tried she hadn’t learned from those mistakes.

She walked up to Tony’s right-hand side and flicked four pieces into place in quick succession.  The rest of the design fell into place as the computer finished the logical conclusion to what she had set in motion, and Tony quirked his head to the side as he took in both the design and the young woman that was standing next to him.

“I’m pretty good at puzzles,” Katie offered with a useless shrug.  “What is it that you are trying to get out of this work study?”

“My goal is to get a new team prepared ready for fighting for the world.”   He said as he put the design away and took his seat, motioning for her to sit as well.

“Why do you need Betas and Omegas?  Aren’t all superheroes Alphas?”  Katie asked, realizing for the first time since being in the room that Tony’s scent wasn’t all that strong or offensive.  Sure, he lived here so it smelled of him, but it wasn’t overpowering like most Alphas.

“No there are some that are Beta’s, but it’s a fair question.  A lot of our Superhero’s struggle with their image of being impulsive and rough.  It’s not really their fault, a lot of the “powers” they have are hampered when suppressants are introduced.”  Tony’s shrugged as if everything was simple.

“So, this is like a chance for prospective superheroes to learn how to live in society?”  Katie was obviously skeptical.

“Actually, you’re not far from the goal.  Think of this work study as school on how to behave and get some training for both to be superheroes as well other extraordinary people.”  Tony stood up extending his hand.  “You are the first person I have interviewed that figured out what were trying to do here without being told.  I think you are the right kind of person for us.”

Katie shook his hand, slightly stunned.

“If you are inclined to accept my offer, just bring your things here to stark tower.  We will get you set up in your dormitory.  Food and lodging will be provided for you as long as you chose to stay.  Classes start Monday,” Tony joked.

Part 2

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Are there Avengers or Hell's Kitchen People that you would like to see in this fic? It's been so long since I've written anything!

[eccentricallygothic]

pt ii after i complete the steve piece i am currently working on

|| Take Me To Church ||

Pairing: Skinny Choirboy!Steve Rogers | Dark!Reader.

Description: You're the giggle at a funeral; everybody's disapproval, and yet, all Steve wants to do is to give you his life. 

Disclaimer: This is a dark AU. It will contain dark and mature content. Browse at your own discretion. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): None in this chapter. But they will contain noncon/dubcon and the like. Reader intimidates Steve but that is what he subconsciously likes so much. 

Note: No physical descriptors will be used for the reader but she has a gothic fashion style because of the plot. I humbly request your feedback as it motivates me. And I appreciate reblogs because they help circulate my work, thank you!

MASTERLIST

I

Mass was almost over. And as Steve watched the preacher with a content and almost proud smile -for the man at the dais was no other than his own paternal uncle, the whispered chatter that was followed by the brief opening of the church doors made him turn his golden head in the direction of the ‘suppressed’ commotion. 

The minute Steve's eyes found the source of the little disturbance, his blue eyes narrowed at the scene that Mrs. Y/L/N did her best to cover up with a much too enthusiastic smile coupled with the directing of a laser beam hyperfocus upon his uncle the minute she sat back down in her seat. When the brooding figure next to her did not budge and continued to loom over her in the same spot it had been dragged inside to stand in, the woman roughly pulled it down beside her without averting her gaze. 

And just like that, regardless of how obscene you looked in your smeared violet lipstick that your mother had tried to wipe off before hauling you back into mass when she realized you had snuck off while she was busy making small talk with your neighbors, Steve's heart fluttered. Oblivious to his tender gaze watching you in the most profoundly wholesome way one could muster, -as he had liked you his whole life but to think immorally of you without the sanctity of marriage safeguarding your dignity and consent was a sin he could never even imagine to commit- you curled your lip in disdain and pretended as though you were very happy to be there. The jab of your mother's elbow that had caused you to do so both made Steve snort before he caught himself in time and worry if the older woman had hurt you too badly. 

Heat began to creep up his ears and cheeks and Steve knew it was his cue to look away. He didn't want to, but he had to. You were too dangerous and he was too vulnerable to you. Immoral thoughts always began to cloud and pollute his mind if he stared at you for too long. And that, he could not have. Both for your sake and his own. 

A labored sigh of longing left his pink mouth as he quickly averted his eyes when he caught himself staring at you again. You were picking at your fingers now. He could literally visualize you counting the seconds before you could leave. Steve's stomach did that thing where his affection for you made him want to pull at your cheeks to express the adoration that he felt for you. 

Preferably after he cleaned off some of your… fashionable makeup choices, of course.

. . .

“Dude, you're really serious about the Y/L/N psycho from up the road, aren't you?” Steve frowned at his best friend's back whilst the taller, broader and healthier boy crouched in front of his Harley Davidson.

“Buck,” Steve sighed in frustration. All he had wanted to talk about was how cute you looked with the messy remnants of your lipstick in the most respectful way he could. But Bucky just had to be like this. “I told you not to call her that” his eyes watched his friend's muscles flex under the thin material of his tank top and though the golden haired boy knew that envy was one of the seven deadly sins, he couldn't help but wonder if he would be more noticeable to you if his physique bore more likeness to his friend's. “You know what Father Jameson says…”

The scoff Bucky let out at that ended in a laugh as his long fingers spread over the rim strokes that he was taking his time cleaning with much care. “Yeah, right” Steve sighed again as he leaned against the brick wall behind him, crossing his humble arms over his small chest. “Fix the creepy satanist by turning the other cheek, because that would work out so well” Bucky was not as enthusiastic about religion as his best friend, but he was not on the heresy spectrum either. 

“Dude,” Steve found the town rumour about you being a satanist both outlandish and absolutely ridiculous. “That is a stretch and you know it” but he could not help but mutter afterwards, mostly to himself. “Besides, no one is beyond saving or redemption.” 

. . . 

The little bell at the top of the coffee shop entrance dinged another arrival in but Steve, who was busy taking a rather complex order, didn't look up. He had worked after school part-time long enough at this place to both get used to and grow almost ignorant of the signal during busy hours. 

But when the line moved to the point where a similar scent and shadowy figure appeared at the horizons of his senses, Steve's busy hand froze and his much practiced, nearly mechanical greeting died on his tongue at the rather shocking sight that welcomed him. 

“Y/n~!” You looked up from your phone out of concern for how breathless the cashier sounded. “W- What… what can I… I…” You narrowed your eyes from under the dark brown hood that was pulled over your head, wondering if the blonde boy at the other side of the counter was having some kind of a fit. “I…” It was not that you cared whether the little dude died or whatever, but rather you preferred he did so after taking your order so you could be on your way. 

“Coffee, black” and so you hurriedly uttered out your order in a near panic. The boy seemed like he didn't understand you at first. As if you were speaking a language alien to his very red ears. But then he did a weird double take and nodded quickly before looking down and punching your order in the machine with such force that it appeared as though he was trying to crush the buttons with his skinny little fingers. 

You raised an eyebrow, not out of concern but more at the comical absurdity of this queer little boy that you felt like you had seen somewhere before but could not pinpoint where. You dug inside the pockets of your black skinny jeans and took the money out to pay because you knew the rate and he was malfunctioning way too much for your patience.  

“That’ll be—” you slid the exact amount on the counter before he could finish his sentence. “Oh, thank you…” You rolled your eyes to yourself. It was bad enough that your usual cafe was closed today and now you had to deal with an overly nice, glitching twink. “N- Nice day out… huh?” 

The way your eyes moved from your phone to his face and then down to his nametag caused the thick black false eyelashes you wore over the smoky eyeshadow to move rather dramatically. 

Steve decided he liked it.

“Uh…?” You squinted as you made out his name from under the frilly church badge that he wore in honor of something you couldn't care less about. “... Steve…?

“Yes!?!” Steve's bright blue eyes were wide as he gripped the edge of the counter as if he was on the verge of exploding. “Something you wanted?!”

You leaned in, tilting your phone to the side to look at him properly. “The receipt…” His flashing blush was so deep in shade that it seemed for a second as though the heat would start to steam out of his ears next. 

“R- Right, right!” Steve's voice was embarrassingly loud as he snatched the token-bill out of the machine before holding it out to you with too much force than he intended, not that it was much coming from someone like him. 

You just gave him a weirded out look before accepting the paper by pinching at one of its edges and taking it from him and moving out of the way. You were not sure if Steve noticed it or not, but the people behind you were groaning out of frustration because of his little display that had made you hold the line up for way longer than was needed. You rolled your eyes again, both at him and the people. 

What an inconvenience.

But Steve's mind was way too occupied with something else to notice the unhappy customers. As he tried to go back to his work with no awareness of how the elderly lady in front of him frowned at him, he felt his heart leap up from how you paused and half-turned. He could not decide why you tilted your head the way one did when they were considering something the person next to them was saying. Because there was no such person with you. You slowly further craned your neck to look behind you before your eyes found him again. You narrowed your dark eyes on him as if… perhaps… you could hear someone saying something about him. There was literally no one there but Steve subconsciously focused on you, unsure of what outcome he expected to achieve by doing so. 

But the shrill voice of Mrs. Jackson nearly gave him a heart attack as it brought him out of his little bubble and he blinked to recalibrate before shaking his head at the absurdity of his thoughts and then willing his hands to return to their work. 

. . .

“Ma…” Steve muttered under his breath as he closed his eyes in frustration, sighing into his orange juice. “It was one time” he put emphasis on the quantitative adjective before crossly shooting his best friend a sharp look. 

Bucky was not bothered in the least as he scarfed down Mrs. Rogers' morn cooking with full satisfaction after ratting her son out to him. 

“It's not about that!” She put both his and Bucky's lunches -who was basically her unofficial son and Steve's unproclaimed sibling at this point- with a force not violent or traumatizing on their still young minds but harsh enough to add effect to her words. “It's about you not even mentioning it to me!”

“Mom…” Steve's ears were red. “You're embarrassing me…” He felt like kicking his friend's happy form.

“I am embarrassing you?! Me?!” Bucky chuckled in a manner aimed at further encouraging his mother before shaking his head at his best friend. “You're the one keeping secrets from me!” 

“You tell him, Sarah!” Bucky smirked when Steve glared at him. As if adding fuel to the fire wasn't enough, he was calling the woman by her name. Mrs. Rogers didn't mind because it made her feel young but her son didn't like it when his best friend did it with that cocky playboy expression of his. 

Steve knew Bucky too well. 

And the plethora of information was a rather mortifying one. 

“Dramatic much?” Steve chose to say instead, shaking his head at the both of them.

“Steven!” And he stood up at that, swiping his mini-package from the table as he did so. 

“Ma, it was one time and only because her usual coffee shop was closed. She usually doesn't come by the place at all…” As he stuffed his lunch in his bag before zipping it, he added for good measure, “I promise.” 

“Notice how he knows that?” Bucky swung his bag over his shoulder after doing the same thing and laughing as he ran by Steve to avoid being hit.

“Mom—” the golden haired boy began after glaring at the way his best friend had left but the older woman cut him off.

“Just… be careful and stay away from that girl, okay?” Mrs. Rogers took his soft face in her hands and looked into his eyes. Steve's heart melted from the affectionate gesture right away and all ire transformed into guilt for feeling annoyed simply because his mother was looking out for him. “Because Mrs. Johnson told me the most horrific thing! Her younger daughter goes to school with her and—” Mrs. Rogers treated you like you were one-who-must-not-be-named and whilst it was funny to an extent, it never failed to drag Steve's spirit down. “She told Mrs. Johnson that that devilish girl said the most heretical—”

“I will, mom. Don't worry. Gotta run now, bye” Steve did not like it when anyone spoke ill of you or mistreated you. Even if the person was his own dear mother. “I love you!” The short boy rushed out. 

Only, he was met with a very angry Bucky who was cussing out an anonymous offender because the tires of his motorbike that the brunette had parked in front of Steve's house had been very intentionally slashed while he was inside. Usually, the two friends rode to school together even though it wasn't considered very cool by their peers but they didn't care. The blonde bent to pick up the brunette's backpack that he had angrily hurled on the pavement before beginning to push his vehicle down the road and to the nearest garage without another word. Steve sighed as he jogged back up to his front door since Bucky lived in the opposite direction of school and the golden haired boy was already short on time. So he dropped Bucky's bag on his mother's rocking chair that was adjacent to the door before beginning his hopefully short walk. 

Although Bucky was popular both around the neighborhood and at school, the same could not be said about Steve despite his good grades. So as he made his way down the sidewalk, hands gripping the straps of his backpack with his head down and eyes mindlessly watching how his feet moved, he did not expect to hear his name being called until the class attendance. Consequently, he missed the whistle that prompted his attention. 

When he did not pick up on it and walked on, the person grunted before speaking up. “Hey, you!” He still didn't stop or raise his blonde head, so the husky voice hailed again. “Rogers!” He froze. 

Was he hearing correctly?

No…

This couldn't be…

“What, you deaf too?” Steve's eyes widened and his head whipped to seek you out, too shocked to notice your jab at his physical ailments. The bright blue of his orbs excitedly twinkled in reaction to his rising adrenaline. 

“Y- Y/n…” He breathed out when he found you at last, turning in your direction to look at you properly. 

“So he hears! Praise the Lord!” You sarcastically teased from where you were leaning against the narrow alley wall next to the local grocers. 

Steve flushed, both shocked and mildly offended. He had never seen you speak to or approach anyone before let alone him. Especially after the scene he had made during your last meeting. 

He raked his mind for words but none came to him. All he could do was blink at you with his pretty pink lips agape, cheekbones red. 

“They're playing A Nightmare on Elm Street at the local theater tonight…” You tilted your head to the side with a ‘friendly’ smile, waiting for him to catch on.

Steve vigorously nodded like an eager little puppy, shooting you a big smile like you had just imparted some great universal truth upon him. You raised an eyebrow at him as you tapped your crossed arm with your index finger, feeling your lips break into an amused smirk at how he malfunctioned. 

His eyebrows eventually furrowed when he slowly realized your expression and let his mind replay what you had said. 

“H- Huh?!” Was all he could let out once he did so. “Uh… okay…?”

Of course. You thought to yourself before sighing and rolling your eyes. 

“The cashier didn't have change so he ended up giving me two tickets” you dangled them between your fingers after fishing them out of your jeans, the hood you wore on your head casting a shadow over your dark makeup. “And who would be better company than the nice barista who lives down the street, right?”

Steve's throat felt as though a hundred thorns had coiled around it. “N- Not a… barista…” He did not have to, but he felt the need to do so for the sake of being honest with much difficulty, blushing up a storm. “Just… the cashier…” You snorted as you let your shoulders push you off the wall. “A- And down the road… not s- street…”

You gave him a considering nod. “Tomato, to-mah-to” now you walked closer to him, unknowingly pulling the very air from his lungs as a result. “7pm, sharp. Don't be late.” And you walked off with your characteristic coolness, not looking back and leaving Steve to his disbelief and eventual nervous breakdown due to the shocking turn of events. 

. . .

Everything Tag <3: @rosecentury

[innorogers]

Lull

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: So this is when you understood the difference between making love and banging, or, in this case, fucking.

Warning: Fluff / SMUT / MINORS DNI / 18+ / Unprotected Sex /

Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Sharon Carter, Natasha Romanoff

Also: Thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️ Let me know if you want to be included in the taglist (DM, comment, repost and tag, whatever works)❤️ You don't need to read the previous chapters but it will definitely enhance the experience if you do.

1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare | 5: Awakening | 6: Dusk | 7: Hypnagogia

You slipped through the streets like shadows, holding hands, hearts racing, eyes darting over your shoulders, every sound amplified by the silence of the night. The Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder – or ‘Magic Stark-Potter Thing’ as Steve was calling it – had granted you some safe time. But time was fragile, and you both knew it.

Your powers pulsed beneath your skin, guiding Steve with quiet certainty. You could feel the city’s pulse, see through the walls, and peer into the hidden corners of every alley. You led him down paths that no one else knew, invisible threads pulling you toward safety. The streets, immersed in late hours after midnight, stretched before you like the remnants of some secret map.

When you reached a narrow street swallowed by the night, you knelt down and moved a pile of old garbage cans aside, revealing a small, grimy basement window. You glanced back at Steve, and gestured for him to follow you down.

Turned out to be an underground club, and the party was just getting good.

The air was thick with the smell of alcohol, sweat, and smoke. Neon lights painted the walls in erratic colors—electric blues and deep reds—while people shouted over the pounding music, their laughter swallowed by the deafening noise.

You exchanged a look with Steve as you pushed through the crowd. His usual composed demeanor flickered, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene while staying close behind you. You weaved through the press of bodies, brushing against strangers lost in their own worlds, music vibrating through your bones as you both made your way to the other side. It felt like a different universe—one that was wild, loud, and completely unaware of the chaos lurking outside its walls.

“I need a computer!” You raised your voice so he could hear.

“I really don’t think you’ll find one here.” He almost laughed, holding your waist and waving through the people around you as you moved forward.

“I know.” You tilted your jaw. “But that’s perfect, look.” You pointed to the computer they used as a register to take orders. “An older one, probably. I need to enter an untraceable code; our network is probably compromised, so I need to notify the only being who can’t be hacked or corrupted.”

“Really?” Now he was intrigued. “Who?”

“Vision.” You continued to scan the place as you moved through the dancing crowd. “These machines won’t work, they’re plugged into their private network. I’ll need something connected to the outside. C'mon… let’s go to another floor.” It was a huge underground bar, so you held Steve’s hand and moved to the stairs.

“I think we’ve got company.” Steve tightened his grip as he noticed some guys entering the floor. They looked like military—tense poses and sharp, alert eyes scanning the place. He looked up and saw more of them on the floor above, near the exits and moving through the whole place.

“Let’s go, we don’t have much time. I think there’s some gear on me that’s making us trackable.” You hurried with him to go down, but stopped when those military men started coming from downstairs. You pulled him aside, hiding in a dark corner, but they weren’t leaving. Steve’s figure—tall, handsome, blonde—was too easy to recognize. A lot of women (and men) were looking at him with flirtatious eyes, intrigued.

You passed by corridors and stairs full of people, using your powers and his sensitive perception to navigate the space. The men didn’t notice you were there, but their eyes were everywhere.

You felt Steve’s body tense beside you, ready to attack at any moment, and the place would turn into hell if that happened. You cupped his face, pulling him closer to the wall, your eyes scanning behind him.

“I’ve always wanted to do this with you…” You smirked as the men passed by, and with your hand on his neck, you kissed him deeply.

Shit. Steve’s body went rigid.

This was the worst place and the worst time, but somehow, it felt so right. He’d almost forgotten how much he needed this. The moment your lips met his, your body pressed against his, the scent of smoke and debris clinging to you from the chase. But your kiss, it grounded him—reminded him why every risk was worth it.

He kissed you in the flicker of shadows, under the flashing lights, in a dark corner of an underground club. Drunk, dancing strangers moved in their own ecstasy, oblivious to the danger. It wasn’t something he ever imagined doing, but then again, you always brought the unexpected. And again...How could you ever think he’d choose anyone else over you? Over this?

He deepened the kiss, pinning you to the wall, his tongue brushing yours, and it felt so right… you tasted like sweetness, laced with something wild, like sin and salvation entwined.

“Steve…” You broke away, eyes still on the men as they passed, and he lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist. You grinned. “I really don’t think this is the time…”

“Well…” He chuckled, voice rough. “I think it’s the perfect time for this.”

“Come on. Let’s move now that we have the chance.” You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before starting to move.

Taking advantage of the lack of enemies in sight, you made it to the last floor through doors and hidden passageways and arrived at what seemed to be a VIP room.

“There we go.” Your eyes locked onto a computer next to a more sophisticated bar. “That’ll do.” But as you approached, Steve’s senses sharpened, picking up the tension of a threat.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw a group of men—tall, armed, and bearing the unmistakable faces of movie villains. Why do they always look like the bad guys? He sighed, slowly rolling up his sleeves. Well, it was about damn time. He had been holding back this feeling of wanting to punch someone ever since a bomb exploded near your car.

“Mmm?” You turned back and noticed the surroundings. The only guy who had been on a date at a corner table rushed out with his partner as soon as the room filled with the approaching men, circling both of you. He was even polite enough to close the door behind him.

“Oh.” You blinked at the 1, 2, 3… 15 men surrounding you.

“Gentlemen, there’s really no need for this to escalate…” You advised as the tension thickened, movements slowing to a crawl before the inevitable first strike.

“Shut up, doll. We’ll take care of you later.” Said the man who seemed to be their leader, smirking at you. “And believe me, you’ll be well attended.”

“Oh … you really shouldn’t have said that.” You shook your head, already sensing Steve’s fists clenching in response.

“Sir, you’re about to get the smash of your life…” You spun just in time to grab the bartender’s hand as he reached for a weapon beneath the desk, a fight breaking out behind you. “Please don’t do that.” You blinked at him. “I just need to borrow your computer, okay?”

“Um…” The bartender, startled by your strong grip, noticed the Avengers logo on your gear and quickly reconsidered. “Um… this thing runs on Windows Millennium. Like…Yikes.” He gestured at the ancient machine. “Don’t you need something, I don’t know, more modern?”

“It’ll do, thanks.” You hopped over the bar counter and began typing. “If it doesn’t send Vision a signal, it’ll at least ping him with a virus warning.”

The moment Steve moved, the air shifted.

The first punch landed with the force of a freight train, sending one of the goons crashing into a table, shattering glass and upending chairs. Chaos erupted in the room as fists and bodies collided. Steve ducked under a wild swing, his movements sharp and precise, retaliating with a brutal uppercut that left another attacker sprawled on the floor. Damn, this is so boring. A punching bag in the training room felt even heavier.

One of the armed men lunged at him with a knife, but Steve twisted to the side, catching the man’s wrist and flipping him over with ease. The crack of bones echoed as the thug hit the ground hard, and Steve was already turning, launching a swift kick into another man’s chest, sending him crashing through the VIP room’s thin partition wall.

“Babe, you got that?” He moved his head, avoiding a knife—or whatever sharp thing was coming from the back—grabbed the guy by his arm, and twisted it like a towel.

“Just a sec.” You were typing the commands as bottles clinked and tables flew across the room, the thumping bass from the club floor below barely audible over the grunts and crashes of the fight. 

“Just… okay, there.” You turned to the bartender: “Do you want me to upgrade this system for you?”

The bartender wanted to answer, but suddenly bent over as a guy was thrown and hit against the wine cellar. He covered his head and screamed, so you raised your eyebrows and took that as a no.

With only three men left standing, they hesitated for a moment, locking eyes with each other as if silently deciding who would make the first move. But that took forever, and Steve was getting bored. He lunged forward, grabbing the nearest man by the collar, lifting him effortlessly before slamming him down onto the tables, the impact scattering bottles and glasses across the floor.

Before the next guy could even react, Steve spun, delivering a swift elbow to the second man’s jaw, sending him reeling backward into a bookshelf, knocking it over with a deafening crash.

The last man, clearly outmatched, pulled out a gun in a desperate attempt to regain control. But Steve was faster. In one fluid motion, he ducked low, dodging the shot, and surged forward, ripping the gun from the man’s hand and delivering a bone-crushing punch to his gut. The man doubled over in pain, gasping for breath, before Steve finished him off with a knee to the face, leaving him crumpled on the ground.

The room was now littered with unconscious bodies, shattered glass, and overturned furniture.

“Wow…” You said in awe. “You didn’t even sweat.” You were thinking that he sweats more when he’s in bed with you.

And he laughed, thinking the same: “I’m saving that for later.”

Just as the dust was settling and Steve was wiping his hands clean, the door burst open, and Tony sauntered in, his suit gleaming in the dim light.

"Everybody freeze!" Iron man said in a mechanical voice behind his helmet, raising his hand and pointing at… nothing. Then he lowered it, noticing the room was still, filled only with men groaning in pain on the floor, while you and Steve rolled your eyes at him.

"What? I was already nearby when Vis delivered the message just three seconds ago. It's not like I'm late..." He raised an eyebrow at the sight of unconscious bodies and broken furniture, clearly unfazed by the chaos, as the team led by Maria and Sam entered the room with their weapons raised.

"Get 'em all; we need intel," Steve sighed as he walked over to you. "There’s a lot of interrogation to do." He pulled you close. "C'mon, let's go home."

It was almost sunrise when you arrived at the compound. You slept a bit in the car, and when the heroes started debating in the command room about the next steps and strategies, you stretched your body and headed to the dressing room yawning.

You needed a cold water shower to clear your mind before helping Tony and Bruce decipher all the information. Plus, you had to get out of this suit that smelled like grilled cement, ashes, and burnt fabric.

Ugh, you were a mess. You opened the locker and started unzipping the gear when you suddenly heard footsteps behind you.

Steve’s arms locked around you before you could turn. He restrained your wrists as a frenzied kiss landed on your lips, fingers laced with yours, pinning you against the wall. While holding you captive with one hand, he explored your wrists with the other.

He was burning.

The kiss deepened, and all the feelings he had been holding back since the car chase, was poured into the embrace. 

He was so turned on by everything that had happened—the adrenaline, the action, the danger, and the risks. He was impressed, and aroused, so fucking aroused.

He knew you were special, but you didn’t even blink during the chaos. 

There were explosives, drones, and the entire freaking Iron Army chasing you in a car, and you didn’t step back an inch.

This unyielding, unwavering, fierce-as-fuck version of you was driving him insane.

“Steve…?” You broke the kiss because you needed air, though you were enjoying it. “Are you okay?” Didn’t you just kind of… escape from death?

“Better than ever.” He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. “I need you.” He said this while lowering your gear’s zipper, inhaling as your breasts sprang free from your clothes. He groaned, kneading them with desperate need.

Oh, okay… You moaned, tilting your head back when he sucked and lapped at them. Your gear was only half off as he pulled down your pants, kicked them aside, lifted your leg around his waist, and plunged into your already soaked folds.

Oh, wow. You gasped in awe as your inner walls stretched wide, completely filled by him, and your bodies slamming against the lockers.

And that’s when you understood the difference between making love and banging, or, in this case, fucking. 

Yup, what you’d been doing every night was making love. But this… 

This was Steve fucking you. And fucking you hard.

The pace was brutal, pounding with relentless intensity. He held your leg and gripped your ass to keep you in position. With one hand on your neck, forcing eye contact, he fucked you harder and harder.

His voice was hoarse and raw, groaning with lust. When he saw you bite your lip to stay quiet, he smiled and quickened his pace.

“I’ve wanted to do this since you kissed me in the nightclub…” He said, his body slamming into yours, locking you against the lockers.

“Keeping you like this in a dark corner, making love to you in the middle of the crowd…” With those images in mind, he murmured in your ear, his thrusts becoming stronger, admiring how waves of pleasure overtook you, making you pressed your leg tighter to his waist, your breath coming in silent gasps, pleading for more.

“Steve…” You could barely whisper. You couldn’t catch your breath as he pounded into you, shaking your body with the force of his thrusts. Your nails dug into his back, trying to hold back your voice, biting your lower lip so the moans wouldn’t escape. You didn’t even know if he had locked the door—someone could walk in at any moment.

But he was so hard, his pace so fast and relentless, completely out of control.

Steve never came before you did. He always made sure you were satisfied first. But this time, he cums when you finally gave in and moaned his name, his release hot and thick inside you.

Before you could even process it, he pulled out and turned you around.

Your breasts hit the lockers as his hands gripped your waist. He positioned you, and just when you were about to inhale, he was inside you again.

Fuck! This felt so good…! Steve never felt this urge, never wanted this so bad, his eyes darkening with further lust and desire, his hands pressing your waist and squeezing your bouncing ass cheek as he sees how he thrusts inside out of you. 

You are so tight, so wet, so fucking perfect for his cock, as you were tailored made for him. He was probably hard since you commanded him in the car, with that badass attitude and fierce determination, and now you were leaning there, with your elbows against the locker, your tits bouncing as he strokes, your ass cheeks marked as he squeezes and rubs them, and your folds still dripping remains of his last cum. Totally at his mercy. 

Fuck, this is hot.

He was going wild. Seeing you trying to mute what at home would be the sweetest or wildest moan, only spur him on, driving him to fuck you with greater velocity, snapping forward with greater intensity. 

“Let go, babe…” He said, snapping his hips forward. Each thrust hit that perfect spot deep inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through both of your bodies. “Let it go… Cum for me honey… Come on… I know you’re about to…”

He leaned forward, grabbed your face, and kissed you fiercely, his tongue claiming yours. His hand found your breasts, tweaking and tugging at your nipples until they stiffened, begging for attention.

“Fuck, baby… You feel so good…” His voice was a ragged, hot breath near your ear. His fingers found your clit, rubbing fast circles as he continued to fuck you. 

Your moans were loader, and your clit was so sensitive, it couldn’t take more contact, Steve’s thumbs rubbed faster and stronger, and as he continues to fuck you in your spot, when he feels your walls about to clamp, he just whispers in a determined tone in your ear. “Cum, now.”

It was like he had a switch that controlled your body. Your inner walls clenched at his command, and you gave in, cumming long and hard around his cock, your body trembling. All you were making was lust sounds, mumbling his name, trying to breathe and to recover to the ecstasy that went from your clit to your mind. 

“That’s it, my love…” He smiled with satisfaction, hissing through clenched teeth, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you into another fervent kiss.

When his lips sealed yours, the thrusts became faster and rougher, uncontrollable moans escaping as his hands roamed over your breasts. His movements were frenetic, chasing his own orgasm.

You moved with him, drunk on lust, oblivious to everything else. You felt his hands squeezing harder, his gasps becoming heavier, his cock growing bigger and stronger. Finally, he buried himself inside you, erupting and flooding your depths with a hot load of cum. His hips jerked involuntarily as the last drops spilled inside you, and he was finally satisfied.

“Oh…god… fuck, babe…” He had one hand still rubbing your tits, another pressing your clit and feeling his cum overload your folds, and his body resting in yours, covered with sweat, gear at his feet, when the extreme edge washed over him. “That…was…amazing.”

"Steve..." You panted as he pulled out and turned you around, instantly leaning into him. "I need to sit..." Your knees were weak, and your thighs hurt a little, but in a good way, a very good way.

He let out a soft laugh. "I’m so sorry..." He kissed your forehead as he lifted you onto the bench and covered you with his shirt. "Did I hurt you? Oh..." He winced at the marks on your waist and thighs, nearly bruised from his hands.

"Shit, babe... I’m sorry I got carried away." His voice softened, apologetic. "Does it hurt?" He pressed a kiss on your wrists, where he had also been holding on so tight. "Fuck... I’m sorry."

"No." You grinned and kissed him back. "It was amazing..." You leaned toward him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "I loved it. We should have more missions like this."

"As much as I’d love to..." He smiled and brushed a strand of hair out of your face, holding you close. "I hate the danger around you. But hey..." He hesitated for a moment. "About what I said earlier..."

"'Cum, now'?" You imitated his voice, and he let out a loud laugh.

"No, earlier..."

"Mmm..." You recalled your eidetic memory. "'Keeping you like this in a dark corner, making love to you in the middle of the crowd'?"

Your eyes brightened. "You wanna go back to the nightclub so we can make out?"

Steve actually considered it for a second. "We’ll talk about that later... but no, I meant what I said in the car before the Iron Army attacked us like Ultron’s possessed children."

"Yeah..." You didn’t remember. Well, no, you weren’t listening. "I was distracted by the giant bomb headed toward us, babe... I’m sorry I didn’t hear."

He leaned back, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Okay, what I was saying..." Now he was looking right at you. He cupped your face, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. "I think it’s just been proven how deeply, madly, utterly in love I am with you. I don’t have eyes for anyone else..."

"Ohhh!" Now you connected the dots. "So we’re talking about my insecurities because you hung out with your gorgeous ex-girlfriend all day?"

"She’s not..." Steve sighed, then softened his voice. "Well, there. There’s nothing for you to be insecure about. I love you. Only you. And I think I’ve proven my desire to be with you forever with the ring..."

"What?" Now you were shocked. "Wait, what?" You sat up straight. "Was the ring really... really... a ring?"

"Of course it is. What else would it be?"

"Um... you said it was a tracking device."

"It is." Steve sighed. "But eventually, when all this is over, it will be just a ring that means: you’re the love of my life, and I want to be with you forever." He smiles at your incredulous face, and holds you in his embrace, placing a kiss on your forehead: "In this life, and all the lifetimes to come. I want only you."

You stared at him, speechless, feeling the warmth of his arms around you and the weight of his words settling in. His gaze was so full of love, it made your heart race. For a moment, you couldn’t find the words, but then you leaned into him, resting your forehead against his.

"Steve..." You whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I don’t know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything." He replied softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "Just... stay with me. That’s all I need."

You smiled, your heart overflowing. "Yes." You kissed him back. "Now. Always. Forever."

"Okay, now that we’re good..." He lifted you up in his arms. "C’mon princess, let’s take a bath, we are a mess here."

Oh. You raised your eyebrows. You don’t know who he’s kidding; you both know how this was going to end.

The End but TBD :)

Continue to:

9: Vigil |

10: Eclipse |

Divider Credits: to the wonderful @cafekitsune

And that's a wrap for chapter 8! Wohoo, I'm so glad I've made it to write a complete smut!! xD I really suck at writing it in english :D So with so many wonderful writers out there, thank you for reading up to here, hope you enjoyed it :D And thanks everyone for participating in the poll last post xD Can't believe fluff won, come on some angst and then a fluff and happy ending won't hurt, right? xD

I'll see you next friday for chapter 9! Wow 9 chapters!! <3

Tag list: @vioplay19 / @jamneuromain / @steviebbboi / @heletsmelovehim / @otterlycanadian / hisredheadedgoddess28

*can you let me know if I've missed anyone in the taglist? thanks <3

[literatureatthebowofnails]

Went back and read Kiss Me in the Dark and this one from the beginning. Gives a while different perspective on the characters, especially Steve and Bucky

summertime sadness Masterlist

Status: Finished

You stay in the city for a summer job but can’t escape trouble.

Sequel to kiss me in the d-a-r-k

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9