#oc x evan

[nobitchs-world]

When y/n gets too annoying to the point you want to stop reading

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Wrong Turn ||

Pairing: Mountain Man Silver Fox Nomad!Steve Rogers | You. 

Trope: Neat and clean ‘civilized’ Princess-like young trophy wife X Filthy beast of a wild and scary man who only got her because he has the power. 

Description: In a desperate attempt to save your life from the wrath of the mountain people that your friends and you stumbled upon and accidentally killed on a hike gone wrong, you had to offer yourself up to their Leader to use as a ‘resource’. But little did your ‘husband’ know, you had been actively getting rid of his seed to avoid actually getting pregnant. Naturally, when he does find out, he is very unhappy… And also very determined to make sure you don't make it out of your punishment without a child, or two.

Warning(s): Dubcon, barbaric!Steve, breeding kink (gone wild), unprotected p-in-v, reverse cowgirl, doggy style, missionary, he has a wife bod kink (but it is inclusive), misogyny, smut with perhaps too much plot, fear kink, size kink, exhibitionism, possessiveness, jealousy, age gap, hair pulling, spanking, biting, allusions to painal and Steve being a teasing sicko about it but he doesn't actually penetrate, overstimulation, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, boob play, squirting, Lloyd makes an appearance with his own young bride, dacryphilia (it's me), self degradation, Stevie is a perverted old meanie, infantilization, mind break.

Disclaimer: Very loosely based off of the movie that I do not own. You don't need to know it to read this piece but do note that it takes place in a fictional setting. Minors do not interact. 

Inspo-ish: This post.

Note: For someone who was on their period, I should not have been this horny. But I need this marriage, now. Ps, though this rotted in my drafts for a long time… in honor of Chris growing out his beard again, ig.

MASTERLIST

. . .

You have no idea how long it has been since that fateful twilight when everything changed in your life, leaving you to a lifestyle you could never have even imagined for yourself.  

“Eat up, woman” but as your barbarian of a husband commands you in his rough and animalistically deep voice, you cannot help but break out of your reverie and shudder at the sight of the barely cooked meat piled high on the platter in front of the two of you. “So you can bear me healthy children” although you're the one who was made to prepare his beastly dinner -that never fails to leave you aghast when it's gorged down- as you're his wife, you cannot help but gag under your breath and feel disgust for the loaves that sit before you in the company of a tall stone carved jug that brims full of the foul smelling mead that your husband is ardently fond of. 

You muster up your best coy smile. Keeping up the appearance of a happily mated pair is important. Or people stare. And then the old man becomes unpleasant. “I had quite a lot while I was cooking, dear” your lies sting your tongue out of the fear you feel of getting caught, but the mere hope of not doing so is better than eating this. “Y- You go ahead” you slowly turn in his muscle hardened lap, that you are always to sit on, to give him a small smile but your expression almost transforms into one of horror because of how wildly your heart jumps at the sight of his stern, predator-like face. You are quick to recover though, as it is a usual occurrence. 

“You need it. You work so hard—” there is just something about his rough looks that never fails to send a chill down your spine. You have never seen anything, let alone an actual human man like him before. 

A beard as thick as the very forest his people populate and as dark as the nights can get here in the absence of lanterns due to the heavy trees, age that streaks some of his gold locks with its silver has not marred the sternness of his jaw that remains firmly set under the heavy mane of his facial hair. His shoulders seem akin to the mountains that surround his village and his piercing dark eyes the mysterious waterfall that flows some way down south from the entrance of the settlement. The frightening mass of his shoulders is so toned that if the barely noticeable wrinkles that sometimes appear under the dark of his eyebrows and next to the crow-feather like lashes that frame his eyes, he can easily be mistaken for a man in his primeful late twenties and no older. His unrelenting strength and wolfish stamina would only further serve to bear testament to the misconception. 

Your strict husband bluntly catches your shaky hand that you extend in his direction to feed him some of the meat, the force that he uses coupled with the coarseness of his skin making you jump. You bite back a yelp and whimper when you look up at his dark blue eyes from where you were watching his bearded mouth to carefully place the food in.

“I don't care” Steve does not care much for being polite -unless it is you who disregards it in your behavior-, especially when it comes to you denying or diverting his ‘care’ for you. “You eat more” you bite back the scowl that threatens to break onto your face from how he turns your hand around in your direction instead. “Wives always need to eat more. They do so much at home for husband and children” he probably feels proud of these ‘values’ that have been transmitted to him by his elders. But all they make you want to do is to crack him across the jaw for being a misogynistic and backward shithead. Especially with you. 

Your ‘husband’ believes that everyone has a role to play; a contribution to make to their people and home. That is how this archaic village of theirs has survived in these mountains hidden away from the rest of the world for so long. 

The greasy piece of a disturbing excuse of a rare steak touches your lips and you've been here long enough to know better than to argue or worse yet, fight. So you smile and lean into his arm that cases your form against his through the embrace he holds you in from behind, his fingers playing with one of the many flowered braids your attending ladies had put in your hair a bit before his arrival at ‘home’. 

“O- Of course” you reluctantly open your open and grip your flowy dressing gown for a semblance of support for your sanity, taking the smallest bite you can -which is still a lot as the man pushes nearly the whole piece into your mouth the moment you open up- as you keep your eyes trained on his to avoid looking down. Your mind always becomes more aware of the taste when you look. “Thank you, dear” you focus on swallowing it without gagging and feel your smile split in places because of how uncomfortable you are.

He probably notices it because he slightly raises one eyebrow and snorts before hugging your smaller form -that is tiny compared to his- closer and puts the rest of the piece in his own mouth. If there is one thing you have learnt in your time with him, it's that you can never fool him. Not really. No matter how well you may think you have lied or pretended, he always sees through it. 

Sometimes you suspect he even enjoys it.

Steve finally begins to eat himself, silently offering you another piece that you politely reject by shaking your head and then quickly pressing an apologetic kiss to his scruffy cheek to lighten the blow. Apparently, a wife can never be polite enough to her husband. And though the change in his expression begins with an unhappy frown, your show of ‘affection’ seems to suffice him and he relaxes in satisfaction, now looking down the long table and at his clansmen and maidens that sit enjoying their dinner, their chatter and laughter a dull roar in the large eating hall of the Leader's dwelling. You pick up the heavy jug of mead with both your hands and obediently hold it to his lips to sip from. Steve looks away from what one of his main men are saying and gulps down a mouthful, rubbing your back as a gesture for thanks before moving his hand quickly down to squeeze your ass to heighten the effect of his expression of gratitude. 

His form shakes in mirth when you yelp and blush. He knows how embarrassing you find being openly ‘affectionate’ in front of people and that is one of the reasons why he enjoys it so much besides showing off that a thing of such beauty and youth like you is all his. You rest the jug between your boobs that he has fucked and squeezed into increasing in size and use your other hand to gently finger and stroke his golden locks that he keeps pushed away from his face outside the bedroom. Though he says nothing, you feel his usually vigilant and always firm stature slowly soften and you cannot help but smile, though what he says next quickly deflates it.

“Do you feel any change in you, wife?” You know what it means and now it's you who becomes tense. He only uses that name for you when he speaks to you as a husband inquiring about your marital matters. “Has my seed attached to your womb yet? Does it grow there?” You gulp and feign shyness, moving closer to his hair and nuzzling yourself in him. “Hm?” He closes his hugging arm around you and reaches for your stomach, fingers groping your covered skin as gently as he can -which isn't much- to feel it. “Answer me” he demands when you refuse to speak. 

“I… I don't know, husband” you always promise yourself that you'll demand more rights for yourself; ask him to treat you like the other husbands treat their wives, only to fail the minute he enters your vicinity. 

“What does that mean?” His tone turns blunt and you whimper at the tightness that snaps back in place between his shoulders. 

You get it.

That was the deal, after all. 

Healthy children in exchange for your life that was required by their judicial laws for bearing false witness to your friend accidentally killing one of their people in mistaken defense. Steve had promised you before accepting you as a citizen that if you failed to fulfill your task you'd walk the darkness in the dungeons. He had shown you how it would be before declaring you a member of their tribe and the sight you had seen was something that had given you nightmares for days. 

But that did not mean you actually wanted to have your old captor's children.

You doubted it would ever be something you'd look forward to.

“I- I mean” regret shoots up your spine in the form of fear and you lose your speech to it momentarily. But then two of your main attending ladies -by that you mean Steve's top agents when it comes to you- enter the horizon of your sight and you hurriedly blubber out the first thing that comes to your mind. “I've n- never been pregnant before, s-o I d- don't know how to…” Your husband turns to look at you, his handsome features twisting into a rogue scowl but before he can scold you, one of the two ladies, Kaira, speaks in their language to Steve. 

Not everyone here can speak English and those who do speak it do so a rather odd version of it. Naturally, you don't speak their language and so they give you the full experience of an outsider when they need to discuss the business they want to keep private from you. The thought makes you want to laugh, like you'd be able to do something with whatever informations they withhold.

But it doesn't really bother you, because you don't care.

You've also learnt that ignorance is bliss here. 

Especially for someone like you.

Better to be the doe eyed trophy wife of an angel who can't tell her head from her ass.

“Is that so?” Your heart jumps when Steve chooses to speak English. That means that this definitely concerns you. You place the mead down and wrap one arm around his broad shoulders before nervously combing his thick beard with your other hand. Since you have no interest in or desire to learn their language, the only word you manage to pick up on when you focus really hard is ‘baby’ and that is solely because of the annoying amount of times it comes up for you. 

“Is not this strange?” He speaks once the women step back after finally ending the nerve wracking conversation that seems to go on forever. “Do you hear what they say about you, little one?” Fuck, you're definitely in trouble. 

He is reminding you of your place. 

You put on your best charming smile but you're painfully aware that your nervousness gives it away. You can feel it. “W- What do they say, dear?” They were such bitches. They knew how to speak English, that's why they were your attendants, but yet they chose not to. And now they were glaring at you like you weren't above them— oh no, not these thoughts again. You will never become like them! No, no! 

Steve pushes his plate away now. Your head spins from the realization. It's only half finished. Your husband never wastes his food. It is a near sin for them to do so. “They tell me the most odd things” oh just fucking tell me! You mentally scream but outwardly tilt your head to the side in confusion, your chest vibrating with the rising beats of your heart. “And now that I think about it myself…” His fingers wrap around the mead before he raises it to his lips. “I see the—”

“What did they say, Steve?” Your mouth works faster than your better sense and he pauses mid sip, dark blue eyes flickering up from the stone jug to look at you. Your face flushes a noticeable hot and your ears get sweaty from the awareness. 

Fuck. 

“They say you've been getting rid of my seed” he feels played and thus angry at the both of you. Perhaps more so towards himself than you; his silly little child-wife. How could he let a thing as tender and small as you fool him so? “... Do you?” It is obvious you are guilty. Besides, he is confident that his people would never lie to him unlike one young and beautiful girl that he had found kneeling in front of him in his court while bawling her eyes out one fateful night, fear stricken as his people surrounded him like a doe trapped. 

And of course, your expressions and reactions don't help your case, as always. “W- What? No…” Your mind becomes erratic.

“No?” He himself knows not what kind of a chance he offers you with that. But typical to your nature, you make it easy for him by refusing it.

“N- No! Of course not! W- Why would I ever do such a thing to m- my husb- hubby and my b- babies?!” Steve has to clench down his scoff. 

“You wouldn't, would you?” Your naivete never fails to amuse him.

“No! I- I don't know why they accuse me so—” you mend your speech from the archaic form that tries to leech to it everyday. “I don't know why they would accuse me of that but they must be mistaken! This is a misunderstanding!” 

He hums. “I see…” His scarred fingers begin to toy with your braids again. “So you remain devoted to me and faithful to our family, don't you?”

“Of course!” You nuzzle closer to him, your heart thundering into his chest. “I don't know why they still treat me like an outsider” you purr as you nervously stroke his hair, playing a card of your own and making an absolute fool of yourself by doing so. “I try my best… like I promised.” 

“Yes, your promise” his distant eyes -they get like that when you disappoint him and you hate the sight because it never fares well for you- travel down to your empty stomach. His gaze makes it wrench. Your fear skyrockets at the same rate as your anger. If only there was a way for you to get back at those bitches without having to give birth!

“I- It takes time sometimes, dear…” You hug his shoulders with one arm. “But it will happen. I know it…” Your other hand reaches for his fingers that rest on your abdomen now. 

“Oh?” Steve raises one dark eyebrow at you. His hair is the most fascinating combination of blonde and dark brown. “Is that what your modern day sciences say?” His people were not always like this, he had told you. They did not originate from here. Rather, some families had abandoned ‘civilization’ when it was going to hell -in his words- by killing each other for meaningless constructs such as caste, creed and color differences and migrated up here to establish a system of their own; one free from such nonsense. 

Apparently.

You take a deep breath. “Stevie—” you only call him that when you find yourself dangerously close to the dungeons.

“If that is what you believe in, wife,” he never cuts you off. Usually, that is. His age that streaks his blonde strands with its silver ones has granted him enough patience. Normally, he waits for the other person -who is most often you- to mess up themselves. But whatever the ladies have told him seems to agitate him into rebelling against his own nature today. “I'll do it your way. After all, happy wife happy life, is that not what you tell me often?” Okay, you might have said that during a particularly cocky moment in bed once. 

But the intention behind that had not been nearly whatever he is moving towards now. 

“Y- You don't have to, l- love…” You nervously giggle. “You're perfect the way you are” you run your nails that he insists you keep trimmed for hygienic -as if- and practical purposes through his silver-blonde hair.

“Oh no…” Now he pushes his food farther away. “I will indulge you, little one” he moves your other leg over his laps so now you face the people down the table with both of your legs on either sides of his, ass to his… fuck. “Time conspires against us, and so we must make haste.”

Your eyes widen and your heart leaps up in your throat. “M- My love?!” 

Steve moves your flowy gown out of his way, keeping a firm hold on one of your thighs even though he doesn't really have to. Your fear of him would never let you attempt an escape. “Yes, my stars” the name is so full of sarcasm it nearly pierces you open. “Let us leave time to its devices, and us ours” your husband is usually a very possessive and private man when it comes to you, but his ire seems to get the better of him today. You hear the buckle of his own clothes come undone. The table goes silent and heads turn in your direction once they realize what's going on. Oh no… Your stomach drops. Not in front of everyone. Not when Steve makes you so vulnerable in that condition. Not in front of these lowlifes!

“Husb—” blood bubbles hot under your cheeks as you feel him align himself against you. 

Holy shit.

You feel one of his coarse hands wrap around your throat and he pulls you closer to his mouth so he can whisper in your ear. “You will contribute, my stubborn little wife,” you whimper from the menace his words hold, your well trained cunt obediently squelching open against his thick hard tip as he lowers you on his cock with the hold he has on your thigh. “Whether you like it, or not” sometimes, deep down, you fear that the dungeons are not an option anymore. 

He keeps you in the horizons of his sight too much for them to be. 

It appears as though the sentence has changed. 

It is now Steve, or Steve.

You cry out from the strain his log-like girth puts on the narrow band of your entrance. God. You will never get used to his size regardless of how many times and ways he tames your pussy in. Yes, it does not refuse him or rip around him now as it used to in the beginning -and it did that for a long time- but the size to which his cock makes it expand is like a mini-birth. Feels like it, looks like it. Only, it feels way too good. And that's why you don't mind it—

No. You don't know what that was or meant. But you don't take responsibility for that thought!

“Oh!” The balmy velvet of your cavern grazes down the bulging veins and hard skin of the brute's cock until your petals squish against his heavy and very eager balls. Your head spins when you feel his tip tickle your cervix. It never takes his dick long to find it.  

His hands are pushing you back up almost instantly so he can slide you back down. You look anywhere but at the tens of faces in front of you, instead choosing to look at the wall on the opposite side of the table. You never thought these people were capable of being this quiet until now when your pussy makes an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as Steve tugs you back to his leaking tip and then allows gravity to suck you back down. You desperately bite your lips and try to focus on ignoring the way your insides are beginning to thrum with the excitement and stimulation; to show these brutes that you're better than them and aren't some animal of nature. But to no avail. His slimy precum mixes too well with yours, the rough skin of his hands digs into your thighs too well and the manner in which your petals rub against his cock when he lifts you yet again -now forming a momentum- before letting you slide in again is too much for you mask with nonchalance. 

Indifference has never been among your strong suits.

“Tell me, my pretty” Steve begins again, his dark eyes now finding the young and hormonal pack of unsuspecting boys who clearly do not know better. “Have you ever had a cock like mine?” He says it in their own language so the foolish miscreants see, understand and learn the fact that you’re only his. You belong to him and he will go to war for you, not that a pack of rug rats will ever be a cause of worry for him. “Has anyone ever fucked you as good as I do?” He switches back to the language you understand, roughly fumbling for your jaw before he grabs it and bounces his hips into yours at the same time. 

Your traitorous legs have begun to do what they always do; fuck yourself against him -if he hasn’t bound you, which he hasn’t- in whatever position he has you. You only realize that your breathing has become heavier when you open your mouth to answer. “Only you, my husband! Only you!” Your brain is running too fast for reason or reflection to catch up so you leave wondering why you answer him with the only words he has been able to teach you in his language to later. Your words are muffled as his fingers that grip the lower half of your face nearly slip in your mouth from the disordered urgency of the both of your actions. 

“That's right” your mouth falls open and you begin to softly pant in that animalistic way that you detest when he makes you watch yourself in a mirror while fucking you sometimes. In your defense, it is always unintentional on your part; you barely even notice it while taking his fucking. And yet, it is inevitable due to the force he does it with. “Look at you; dutifully fucking yourself up and down your husband's cock like a bitch in heat” a twinge forms in your knuckles from how your fingers hold the edges of the table to aid the gliding of your fuck hole that now slams up and down his cock in a rhythm you're all too familiar with, the smacks of your bare ass slapping against his naked abdomen making appalling noises that you're too worked up to dread over right now. “And you're a bitch in heat for me, aren't you?” His fingers move down from your jaw to your throat. “Wanting to be bred over and over again until you're so full of my children that your little belly is round and heavy to the brim, hm?” In these moments, you tell him anything and everything that he wants to hear.

Steve knows it all too well.

And he loves it.

“Yes!” Your voice disappears midway from how he squeezes your windpipe. His hips meet yours midway now, the wetness of your cunt and the force of his thrusts causing for his balls to try and push past the tight boundary of your sexual cavern. “Yes! Yes! I am! Please!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when his free hand finds your petals to play with. “Ohhh!”

“You want to be bred, don't you?” He rubs your drenched pussy lips while his hard cock pistons in and out of your sopping cunt. “Want to contribute…?” He chokes you once more and this time his fingers pinch one of your pussy lips punishingly at the same time and you cry out. “Provide your husband with a house full of heirs?” The oxygen in your mind depletes and your eyes flutter as a result, cheeks turning red and nerves becoming prominent on your glistening temples. Your horny yet defensive pussy finally relaxes around him a bit so it doesn't hurt his dick and he savours the moment by holding you by the curve between your legs and fucking into your form that gets limp by the moment to push you towards your first orgasm. 

It always gets better after that. 

For him, at least. 

You don't choke him out so much then.

“Y- Yes!” When Steve finally lets go of your throat to let you breathe, you blubber out an an answer obediently once the light returns to your eyes. Your walls stiffen around him once more. But by then he has already worked himself closer to your womb. “Yes! Yes!” It is all your mind can muster.

“Good” he makes a point of taking both of your boobs in his hands and thoroughly massaging them to show off his ownership over you. “Now ask me to breed you” the fence of heat that has formed around your loins becomes tighter when his hands that previously fondled your clothed breasts slip under your gown -for Steve is too possessive to actually expose you to the eyes of others- and he softly rubs your tense sides a couple times before his fingers form pinches around your hard nubs. 

“Please breed me!” Your voice is so loud and strained that its quality is nearly blood curdling. “Please breed me and s- stuff me full your children!” Your hands fly to grip his from over the dress as you throw your head back and slip from the edge of your anticipation, parrotting all the words he has taught you over the course of your marriage. “Oh GOD! Please!” Your back arches from the coming undone of the hot belt of expectation and scorching gratification spills from it, seeping down your legs in the form of a nearly unbearable electric feeling that transforms into a subzero energy when it reaches your toes that curl, causing them to feel as though they are freezing. “I need your b- babies so bad, hubby!” 

Steve's own ears blush from the heat that courses through them in the form of adrenaline as he snorts, some of his blonde strands coming loose from the push and tug that he plays with your cunt. “Tell them” his balls ache from the strength it takes him not to fill you up right then. “Tell everyone that you want me to fill you up with my babies” since your sensitive body tries to curl and move away from the overstimulation, the older man wraps both of his hands around your thighs to keep you going. “Say it!” And he makes you say the words that he desires in the language of your spectators that look embarrassed for the first time since you got here. 

Save for your husband's best men who look equal parts aroused and proud. 

You want to cringe and be disgusted but your sensitive pussy is being pounded too hard for you to attempt a conjuring up of any dignity. 

“Need hubby babies bad!” You cry out again from memory when Steve's thick seed begins to fill you up at last. “Oh, my God!” The feeling of his hot cum filling you up and painting every inch of your sensitive walls penetrates your already hazy mind and the warmth that steams out of the pearly liquid steams its way up to your womb, making you shudder at the feeling. Your opening tightens around him in protest of the overstimulation and it instead causes for a barrage of bitter-sweet electric sparks to explode through your abdomen in the form of a half post-climax orgasm. Your body grows tired.

But your insatiable is far from done.

“Flattering, but no” Steve pushes you against the table before standing up when he is done fucking his orgasm as deep as he can reach into you. “The father of your children will suffice” your eyebrows furrow at his words but the older man does not give you a chance to ponder over them because now he is hooking his hands under your thighs that your rapid and messy fucking has covered in both of your juices. 

“W- What?!” Your vision is hazy and your mind dazed as you incoherently tap about. “What's— oh!” You wince from how much easier it is for him to move inside your worked open and much lubricated but torturously overstimulated walls now. “Oh! Oh…” Your hands blindly feel behind you to try and get him to stop. “Oh, no! No, please!” You cry out weakly, your upper body hanging low in the opposite direction from the exhaustion. 

“No?” The older man darkly chuckles, paying no mind to your flailing. “You think you can say that to me?” One of his hands desert their post on your thighs to roughly grab at your hair. He hasn't forgotten what started all this. “You think you have the same rights as everyone else around here, wife?”

But you're scowling from the burning pain in your walls, mind hazy and unwise. “Stop! Stop!” Your puffy folds ache from how his stiff skin rubs against them as he moves in and out of you at a normal pace… for now. “It hurts, stop!” 

“That is the part and parcel of having children” your body curves outwards as he pulls you further back and closer to himself by your hair. “And is that not why you're here?” His cocky tone along with the hungry and wondering eyes of the wildlings make you angry. “What you were spared for in the first place?” A twinkle in the eye of a man pisses you off and…

“It hurts, you old bastard!” Your young blood gets the better of you and your mouth runs before sense can catch up. “Stop, stop, stop it!” Since your hair holds you closer to him you manage to land a few smacks to his rock hard arms before you try to snake your fingers under his to pry off the hand that he coils around your thigh in a weak attempt to move away. 

Steve only chuckles, clearly unfazed by your fighting as he bounces your smaller form up in the air with each thrust. “Did your mother not teach you anything, wife?” He lets go of your hair only to restrain both your arms on the small of your back. “Good girls never tell their husbands no” your body flops forward again and you've no choice but to face the long table full of people. “They lay down pretty with their legs spread and let their husbands fill them with their children and then they express their gratitude for being granted a family.” Though your mind is confused and rather disoriented from the influx of sensation, you can make out new additions to the crowd of your humiliation from the corners of your vision. 

“Ugh!” You grunt from the rapid jabs he gives to your sore pussy, his firm hold nearly searing into your wrists. “I don't wanna have your stupid blonde babies!” Steve breathlessly lets out a real laugh at that. “Let go!” 

“There” he can swear he will never tired of you breaking the little character of the obedient wife that you so naively think you have mastered only to break it when he has you all riled up like this. “Right there, easy now” his other hand leaves your lap and he pushes your head down and against the table in the most condescending manner imaginable. Steve has got you to expose yourself for the brat you are, no need for play anymore. “Now I make a bunny out of you” his dark eyes now meet with those of the boys sitting at the other end of the table and his use of their language is a silent message. The Leader knows how his wife is desired. And he doesn't appreciate it in the least. The young males all panic and look away, gulping to themselves and praying for their lives. 

You try to struggle again, your lip curling in disdain and protest as you feel him fuck his cum right up your cervix. The bitter pleasure you get from it makes your head spin and your fingers and toes flex defensively. “Ooof!” Your cheek rubs against the table and you puff out your face to express how tense you feel down there. 

“Brat” Steve shakes in silent mirth as he reaches for your ass with the hand that he was holding your face down with. “Don't you move a muscle.” You're too busy rocking over the table and being held down to try. 

“Hubby, please!” You whine when one of his veins twitch deep up your walls and your knees shiver from the sensation. “Please!” Maybe if his cock wasn't so comically huge, it would have been easier to move past the rough friction of your raw, orgasm worn skins. But it is and so you are ready to abandon the dam that begins to form in your abdomen again if it means to avoid this pain. “Owwwiee!”

“Aw” Steve cooes as he now moves to a pace that falters your vision and causes for the great table to shake with each thrust that he gives you. “So small and sore, aren't we?” The spank he lands on your unsuspecting ass right after is the stark opposite of his tone. “Maybe we shouldn't act out so much when we are so weak and pathetic, huh, wife?”

“Oooof!” One of the shyer ladies get up before she carries her young son who stood next to the group of the young ones away and the realization of the fact that your spectators are all real people who see you everyday and will continue to do after this drips down your limbs like ice cold water. Your hips cannot help but clench from the embarrassment that you dully feel in some part of your mind way far at the back. “Hubby, please!” The spanks increase with each snap of his hips and though the turmoil between your legs takes up most of your sensory powers, your cheeks now begin to noticeably sting from the pain that builds from how the swings of his hand against your poor ass increase with each thrust. 

“Please?” Steve muses like he isn't balls deep into you and fucking the literal daylights out of you like a crazed heathen. “Oh, but I thought I was a mean old bastard” of course, your pleas always only mean that you want more, according to the brute you are married to. They cannot mean anything else, apparently. “And you didn't want my stupid blonde babies” you grunt from the frustration and land a helpless fist on the table. You are in an uncomfortable tug of war between the mutilation of your sensory glands and the tall barrage of tight hot anticipation that cannot help but form in the base of your stomach again because of how hard and rough he fucks you. 

Your husband's main man, Lloyd, laughs in a comically daft voice to tease you and be the insufferable asshole that he is. “You've got yourself a feisty little pup there, Steve” he is the only one who can refer to the blonde haired man by his name. Or maybe, he doesn't care to use the honorific and his usefulness backs him up. You wouldn't be surprised if the latter really is the case. “Don't you agree, my sweet?” He side hugs his own young bride who ironically is one of the sweetest and perhaps the only nice person in this entire village and Lloyd grins down at the girl whom you now notice is blushing furiously. 

Before you can let the humiliation swallow you whole, Steve spreads your burning cheeks and chuckles at the sight he finds glistening and blinking up at him, the madenned hammering of his cock unceasing. “Look at this adorable little button of yours, darling” you are not personally familiar with any of the faces that witness you trying to pathetically crawl away when your devil of a husband begins to tickle your pucker so you realize it was actually not quite hitting you as bad as it does now when you become hyperaware of Rainie's gaze. If it weren't for how your eyes roll because of Steve's hot seed shooting deep up your cavern again and nearly searing into your very flesh this time around from the brutality of it all, you reckon you would have tried to hide. But now all you do is let out choked blubbers as your wide eyes sting from tears due to the sensory overload. “I think it's time we deflowered it, what do you think?”  

Oh, no. 

His cock is not something that you can handle in your ass without splitting all over the place!

“No answer? No?” It feels as though you are the one who is cumming and not Steve because of how good he is at wearing the mask of nonchalance. “Hm,” he roughly pulls you backwards by your hair before hooking an arm around your waist to keep you from trying to get away from how he toys with your trembling pucker. “Maybe we should let sweet Rainie decide for you, hm—?”

“OH, GOD!” You cannot help but scream over him. 

He is too much.

Steve ignores your exclamation, thrusts delayed -more jab like- but so strong that his tip spears into your cervix with each thrust, thus causing for your head to spin from how he chooses to fuck out his orgasm. “She's your friend, isn't she?” Steve's beard gently stings the sweaty and teary skin of your jaw from how his mouth presses into your ear. “Aren't you, Rainie dear?” 

Yep, you are never looking her in the eye ever again. 

“Answer him, sunshine” Lloyd eggs his wife on and you notice through your cloudy vision that he is making her palm his own bulge. You nearly cringe back into Steve's chest from the obscenity of it all. 

The girl, a new bride herself, is shy and small next to her own flesh boulder of a husband as she meekly peeks up at you through her lashes. “Y- Yes, sir. We are friends” her voice is barely audible and both your husbands chuckle. 

If it weren't from how a dull orgasm rips itself apart somewhere deep between your loins, you would have felt angry.

It is like the assholes know that you're friends, and they're having their fun with it.

No wonder they are best mates.

“Good, good” you can feel Steve's cum splattering your thighs with each brutal jab, the sound and sprays of his shaft making a mess of your juices underneath your dress ample in its audibility. “So, do you think it's time your girlfriend's dirty little button was opened up, hm?” He keeps one hand on your pucker and reaches for your boob to grope with the other.

Rainie blushes again and furiously lowers her head the moment her eyes connect with yours. Though you don't know it, her own has been deflowered not too long ago and she isn't sure what response would be favourable by you, so that and the embarrassment of the Leader questioning her for something like that about his wife when she is on amiable terms with the girl makes her choose silence for as long as allowed. And her own husband cockily leaning into her and mansplaining into her ear how it would work for you by comparing it with what he did to her pretty ass only makes her curl further. 

“Shy little thing, isn't she, my precious?” So your husband turns his unwelcome attention back to you, bending the both of your bodies forwards so he can smack your asshole with the back of his hand easier, the impact making you rock violently forward. “Maybe you should learn some manners from her, huh?” The howls you let out from getting your pucker pinched and hit is something you would rather not narrate. All you choose to disclose of that ordeal is that sobs echo in the hall, another orgasm rips out of you and you are sure your body releases more liquid than normal for an average orgasm. “Look at how polite and nice she is, hm? While all you want to do is to curse your husband and be an ungrateful little sloth” it sounds as though a newfound annoyance causes him to grit his teeth towards the end and the tip of his fingers finds recourse in seeking for itself a passage past the tight barrier of your unwilling button as a result. 

And so your mouth begins to run in the desperate way he loves. “N- No, no, no hubby! No!” You vehemently shake your head as you feel your knees start to buckle from the exhaustion. “I- I didn't mean it!” The bearded corners of his mouth pull into a deep smirk. He knows its coming, and he loves it. 

“You didn't?” How can he not when he is the one who trained you to it and taught you the words to say during. 

“No! No!” Your voice comes out child-like from your mind's succumbing to its defeat. For the day, at least. “I d- didn't!” 

Steve is a jackhammer in how he fucks his children into you and works towards giving you more. “Oh, I see” now he speaks to you like an elder speaking to a young one, like you are no older than five winters. “Then, will you tell me why you said such naughty words to your husband who does so much for you?” He knows you're small now and so he chooses his words accordingly.

After all, it is Steve's meticulous tailoring of your mind and body which brings you to act out this specific sequence. 

Nothing less, nothing more.

Just this. 

A shrew tamed into a compliant wife equipped with the mind of a babe. 

He may never admit it outright simply because it goes against his very code of life but Steve knows in his heart of hearts that it is this very push and pull you put up in your own passive little way that keeps him alert and your marriage interesting. 

Addictive.

“Is ’cause— hnnng, cause—!” He pulls both of your bodies back up with the intention of turning you to face him but he chooses not to do it just yet. He wants you, those silly boys and everyone else who suspects that his judgement grows soft because of his fancy for your youthful beauty and adorable personality, to hear it. Steve can always pull you right back down if wants. Your reins will always be in a hand's reach to him. Just because he lets you sneak in your foolish ways sometimes doesn't mean you've conquered his nature-gifted better sense.

“Because, what?” Everything in life calls for balance and so each time your misbehavior that you think you hide so well from him begins to rise above a level he deems no longer amusing, he is there to hammer it down. 

Quite literally. 

“Because I am j- just an i- impudent,” Steve grunts and moans, feeling his cock twitch from how you always mispronounce imprudent when you are in this state. He taught you that word and true to your little baby self and mind, you can never get yourself to say it right. “Little wife and I am a d- dumby—”

“Fuck…” Steve feels a drop of cold sweat trickle down his back from your little vocabulary. He feels himself pant from how hard he fucks you, his windpipe alight from the friction caused by the air he heaves in with each desperate inhale.

You are a proper trouble; something he has never had before, and he loves it.

“— D- Dumby sloth who dunno any real worries besides e- eating and b- being spoilt b- by my lovu hubbsy—” your tongue is kinetic jelly between your teeth and Steve has begun to moan from how fucked stupid you sound. “So I get shtoopid and u- ungateful” Steve cannot contain it anymore. In a fevered and desperate confusion of how to express the thunderstorm you cause in his head, he slaps your hair away, causing for some of the flowers to go flying about, and sinks his teeth into your flesh, growling so deep into your skin that you feel the vibrations cause ripples in your blood. Perhaps that is what Steve yearns to taste. “B- But husby always fixes” your head goes limp against his as he sucks your skin like a crazed animal for you lose a track of how long. Your vision and hearing bolts away from your comprehensive faculties like a bullet train and your body gets sucked into the vacuum of your husband's beastly grip. You are just a lifeless doll rocking in whichever direction and manner he pleases.

Next time your brain catches on with your reality, your body has been placed under his with your back against the table. You faintly notice when your dress begins to get wet that splashes of mead cover it due to your brutish husband's depraved madness. 

“Look at me, hey” he pats your incoherent face until your wandering gaze settles on him, teary eyes distant. “This is the face that you will see in those of your children, and children you shall have until this residence cannot contain any more” his promise echoes in your buzzing ears like the bestowing of an ultimate truth upon you by some powerful deity. “This is the face you will look up at as you spread your legs,” his tip is so swollen, raw and hot against your worn skin that you can feel it even in this state. Your features scrunch from the discomfort. “This is the face you will kiss and cherish” his fingers find your throat again and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he puts pressure on your windpipe. “And this is the face that you will look at until you breathe your last” he holds you until you are on the verge of losing consciousness, though letting go only to stifle the gasp you let out to resume your breathing with a hot sealing kiss.

Your muscles twitch and your body spasms in the position he has you in. Laxness washes over your limbs and you begin to violently shake from the dull and yet stinging quakes of sensation that bloom through your whole form. 

For some dark, twisted and depraved reason, you cum from the helplessness of your situation and it is present in Steve's amused and proud smirk that the knowledge is not lost on him. Swiping an arm around you from behind with an air of satisfaction, he collects your limp body closer to his and walks off to your chambers with your drenched sexes still connected, leaving a crowd of embarrassed, curious, satisfied as well as tamed spectators in his wake. 

You surrender yourself to him and close your eyes as your body collapses on top of his. Your mind barely works but you know one thing— fact as clear as day; you are not making it out of this without at least one child on the way. 

And there isn't a single thing you can do about it.

. . .

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Husband + Monster Reader

[18+, Talk of Nsfw but no outright smut, Spit Kink, Oral, Light Body Horror, Mentions of past Cannibalism, Reader is implied to be taller than Yan]

There are three things your husband would never ask for. Divorce. A homemade birthday cake. And, lastly, anything that would jeopardize his or your health. The rearmost point had its grey areas what with him sacrificing pieces of himself to accommodate your limited palate.

For him to request something from you loosely implies his assurance of its safety for you both-

"I've been thinking lately... It's actually been on my mind since the first time we did... things with each other."

Your husband bites at his lower lip, the thick panels of his glasses failing to hide his shame at even suggesting his mind's tempations to you.

"If it's not too trouble... Would it be out of the realm of possibility for you to... spit on it tonight?"

"Evan-"

Your husband is quick to cut you off, physically shrinking as he interrupts you. Your voice is the last he'd ever want to silence, but he needed to get through to you before the obvious concerns did.

"Hun, I know you're worried. No telling where I'd be now if I didn't have you to keep me safe. And that care you have for me is exactly why I want this."

He couldn't say he needed it. This had to be your choice above anything. Telling you the truth would only persuade you one way or another, and it'd kill him to be that selfish.

"I want you, Honey. All of you." A rising hand encourages you to accommodate your husband's smaller stature, leaning forward as he strokes a thumb over the barely visible line across your neck - the tongue that bleeds everything it touches of its essence hiding just beyond that slit.

Your throat bulges as it stirs, signifying your unease. Evan swiftly averts his eyes, clutching his this thighs together.

"If..." He chokes out, thoughts dwelling on that dense, inciting saliva of yours dripping off his most imitate areas. "If I wear a condom, it should be okay- It's just like when I used to wear gloves while I helped you brush your teeth."

He has a point- Far as either of you are aware, your saliva can only break down organic materials. That doesn't put him in the clear yet.

"What if it tears?"

"If I feel anything out of the ordinary I'll tell you immediately, and we stop to cuddle and watch tv."

"And how much spit do you want from me?"

Evan feigns a coughing fit. He was all for indulging in his twisted fantasies if you were on board with him, but saying them aloud is where things became tricky. "I was thinking you could to lay it on as thick as you can. Make sure I can feel the warmth and the... wetness through the protection. It'd be great if you could use your t-tongue a little too. I've always dreamt of what it'd feel like to have it wrapped around me."

"....You are a perverted man, Evan."

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he utters a small. "I know, but it's why you love me, right?"

Hope beaming from his lovestruck eyes, you squeeze his shoulder as you pass by. "I'll be upstairs when you're ready."

[whore-ibly-hot]

Post-Gym Shower

Yandere!Athlete Evan Reed x reader x Yandere!Gym coach Anatoli Sidorov

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Multiple yanderes, non-con touching, dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, general perversion, dry-humping, voyeurism, controlling behaviors, power dynamics, panty stealing, typical yandere behavior.

(A/N: Another duo fic, giving some juice to the Evan girlies out there. Plus some attention for Coach Sidorov, I feel i haven't fleshed him out enough. It's not very long but...)

"Cmon, there's plenty of room," Through the steam of the bathroom and the 'woosh' of the shower sprayer, Evan's voice cuts through the locker room as he watches the warm stream of water dripping down in beads from your body.

"There's tons of other showers, Evan!" You squeak, grabbing the shower a bit to cover yourself with the flimsy plastic shower covering. "You don't need to come into this one..."

He scoffs and runs a hand over his curly mullet before he tosses his towel off, prompting you to look away with a squeak. "I'm not going to freeze my dick off waiting for one of these other showers to warm up, just slide over." He explains, face contorting to a grin when he sees you looking away. "What, cmon, I'm not that bad looking, baby." Pushing the shower curtain aside, he steps onto the slick tile of the shower floor, sighing as the warm water washes the post-practice sweat and excessive body spray from him.

"This is weird!" You exclaim, covering yourself up. "I'm trying to shower, and you're all gross and sweaty-"

"Oh my god, stupid, that's the point of a fucking shower, to get clean. Stop bitchin-" he gives you one of those hard looks you often see him cast at the poor victims of his bullying. It makes you swallow harshly. "-and hand me the soap."

With shaky hands, you pass the bar of soap and try to avoid gawking as he runs it over his pecs, groaning as he rubs some spots that obviously have some sore muscle lying below. "Coach has been running us like crazy for the swim meet coming up," he mumbles as he keeps cleaning. "Swear I hear the starting whistle when I'm fucking sleeping." He notices you're not saying much, and set away the soap before turning to you. "But... I heard Coach has been giving you some 'extra-lessons' too, huh?" He coos, and the insinuation makes you flush.

Smacking at his chest and watching the water on his skin react and fly off, you look aghast. "Don't make it sound weird, Evan!" You exclaim, voice squeaking with embarrassment. "I'm- He's not doing anything like that, I just joined P.E. late, I'm behind. He helps with stretch and stuff." You explain, and Evan leans in, grabbing your hips and grinding his limp but still impressive length against your front playfully.

"Stretching, huh? Yeah, I bet he's stretching you out." He chuckles. "So what's the play, you doing it for a grade? Can't imagine coach's limp old man dick is giving you what you need."

"No!" You squirm a bit, the way he's naked crotch is resting against your thighs send both a spike of arousal and fear to your core. "He's not doing anything like that, don't be weird. And let me go!" You exclaim. Evan ignores your pleas, hands moving from your hips to your arms, then chest.

"Well, whether or not Coach is dicking you down on the side, whatever he's doing is working." He mumbles, calloused fingers making you shake as little goosebumps start littering your skin. "You're getting some muscle, baby. Looking toned, I mean, you're not me, but you know..." A large hands fondles over your ass, groping as it's owner revels in how you squirm. "Real fucking fit, if Coach isn't actually giving you what you need after class, I'm always avaliable. Take you back to my dorm, and work that pretty-"

"Evan!" The metallic sound of the locker room door swinging open and Coach Sidorov's voice gives you a moment of hope.

Evan groans, "Cmon, let's stay quiet and split outta here once he leaves-" You cut him off with a surprisingly bold sudden shove, and you both just stare at each other for a moment, shocked at your resistance. Before his glare forms, you call out.

"In here, coach!" Coach Sidorov approaches the shower, and feels his blood boiling when he sees two pairs of feet stuck out below the shower curtain, and the voice of his poor little star calling out. "Reed. Out of the shower, now."

Evan groans and glares at you as he pulls aside the shower curtain. You know you'll be facing his wrath and frustration for this later, but you choose to just appreciate the moment you have now. Trying to shield his half-hard dick, Evan huffs as the bright locker room lights hit his eyes.

"Cmon, coach. I already know you're gonna try to make a big fucking deal of this- we were playing around-" He yips as he feels a sudden, sharp pain on his thigh and ass. Coach Sidorov is holding a wrapped up towel, which he smacked at the cocky star player. "What the fuck coach!?"

"Go, thirty laps in the pool, now. I'll see you after I deal vith your friend in the shower." He growls, and Evan blinks away. "And I'll be looking into changing your gym schedule!" He yells after him, rubbing at his forehead and brow with a frustrated sigh. "Dat boy..." He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself as to not scare you.

"Little star?" He calls out tentatively, turning so his back is against the curtain but he's faced away from you. "I'm not mad at you, okay?"

"I-I'm sorry sir, I tried to tell him there were other showers-" you start, leaning slightly around the curtain with a shameful tone to your voice. He cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

"No, no. Dat boy is a menace, is not your fault." He assures, trying to resist his own urge to meet your gaze, st the risk of catching a sight of your exposed cleavage and shoulders behind the curtain. "Are you clean?" He asks.

"Yes sir." You affirm, and he steps away to grab your clothes on the nearby bench, handing them to you and not letting his hands linger to long on the soft fabric.

"Dress. I von't look." He assures, and you nod. You begin with your top as he keeps talking. "I'll have a talk with him, I'll get your schedule shifted around to. I won't tolerate him dragging you off somewhere and trying to get you to... allow him to have his way with you." He hisses, fists curling as bit. "I'll try to get you your own shower stall, da?"

"That would be great, sir." You squeak, zipping up your tracksuit top. "I appreciate you being worried about me. He can be a lot..." you pause as you go to dress your lower half. "U-um, coach?"

He hums affirmatively. "My... my underwear is gone." You whimper out, horrified and scandalized. You seem Coach Sidorov visibly tense up, and raise his fist to his mouth to clear his throat.

"Ah, vell... Its possible he may have grabbed dem on the vay out. I'll give you a pass to get out of your next class, run back to your dorm and grab another pair, okay?" He offers, and you slip on your pants with a nod. He turns around once your dressed, and he smiles softly at the sweet of your dripping hair and awkward form. "I'll see you tomorrow for class, da?"

You nod, and in a bold move lunge to hug him, shaking a bit against his broad chest. "Thank you, for... for looking out for me."

He's shocked, eyes widen as he feels his heart melting at your affection. He wraps his arms firmly around your shoulders, keeping you flush to his chest. "Of course. You're my little star, no one is going to hurt you while I'm around. Now go on back to your dorm." He's reluctant to send you away, but he's still dealing with boiling anger towards Evan, and he's got a growing problem down below he'd rather not have you see.

He waves goodbye as he watches you depart, and once you're out the door his hand slips into the pocket of his tracksuit. He ignores his raging erection in favor of grabbing something from the pocket, a thin fabric garment, yours. He feels a little bad, snatching your underwear and sending you off, but... surely it's safer with him?

[hoaxriot]

CAUSE YOU WEREN’T MINE TO LOSE

pairings. james potter x fem!reader.

summary. every year james went away to hogwarts while you went to a different wizard school, but every summer it was you two. until he brought home a girl.

summer was finally here, you were back home and the air was crisp, the warmth was just right. one thing was different but you didn’t know it yet. your mother yelled for you to remember dinner with the potter’s, which of course you already knew.

getting in the shower washing off the smell of your school and getting ready quickly since you arrived home later than usually. your mom yelled for you from downstairs, you groaned as you looked for clothes in your closet since, most were still in your bags.

once you did, you quickly changed and made your way downstairs.

“took you long.” your father said in a joking tone, you smiled at him following your mom out the door and across the street. since the two of your families knew each other since before you were born, your mother walked into the house without knocking. she held a bouquet of flowers as she yelled for euphemia making her yell back where she was in the living room. there was more commotion then usual making you confused.

the three of you made your way into the room where many people were sitted, you noticed sirius, remus, and peter sitting on the floor. then you noticed james sitting beside a red head, very close causing a pit in your stomach to form. more girls sitting around the floor.

usually, when sirius saw you he would hug you but he didn’t which made you even more nervous.

“i’ve met these boy’s but whose this lovely girl?” your mom questions looking at the girl, at her words you look towards james who was now avoiding looking into your eyes, usually when you walked into the door he jumped right up and hugged you.

your eyes snapped away when the redhead began to speak, “i’m lily, lovely to meet you!” she looked at all of you, you tried your best to smile but it wasn’t true. sirius was staring at you, the two of you became very close so you told him about you and james, he now regrets not sending you a letter at the true heartbreak on your face. he knew he should’ve but he was so torn between the two of you.

euphemia always went all out with the get togethers, but today was different. all of james’ friends were here, even lily’s since this year they had become a full group now that the two groups had come together because lily and james were dating.

she called everyone to follow her into the backyard where a long table was sitting in the grass, decorations all over the table. you follow your parents, usually sitting by james and the others but it was different. you watched as all of his friends fell into a group sitting by each other, even sitting far away from one another they were still having conversations.

this was the first time you felt out of place at the potters.

lunch went by slow for you, it felt like hours had passed but only one had. finally, everyone dispersed, your mother and father kissed your head as they followed the other parents, you quickly walked away towards the field in their backyard full of flowers where you and james had spent times together.

your throat had suddenly felt tight and an all too well feeling in your eyes, luckily everyone was too focused on whatever to come to you so letting the tears fall you took a deep breath with your eyes closed, head tilting back just a little to feel the summer breeze hit your rosy cheeks.

too focused on your thoughts, you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching. you quietly gasped seeing someone from the corner of your eye, scared that it was james but relieved to see sirius. he sadly smiled at you.

“when?” you simply questioned, he knew. “beginning of this year, she started to like him after years of him chasing after her.” he explained, your eyebrows furrowed as he spoke.

you let out a scoff with a little laugh, “chasing after her?” sirius winced, he was so beyond fucked, james never spoke about lily when he was on break because he was so focused on you.

feeling the sun peak through your curtains you opened your eyes fully opened, you smiled seeing james sleeping, he was snoring softly. he was beyond beautiful at any time of the day. you brought a hand to his face softly brushing the curls off of his face. he hummed in content at the feeling of your hands.

“morning,” he groggily spoke, you absolutely melted at his morning voice. “morning.” you replied. the sheets were tangled in between you as he tightened his hands around your waist bringing you closer to him, in-fact bringing you to lay on top of him. you lightly laughed as he kissed your neck.

“all these years he came home on break, sneaking out of his own house to come into my room. he went back to school and chased her?” gods, you wanted to hate her but she was everything, she was sweet and beautiful. he wanted to hug you hearing your voice crack as you spoke.

you laughed at yourself, cancelling so many plans your friends had invited to you over breaks for him, stupid james potter.

letting out a breath as you wiped the tears off your cheeks, “i’m so stupid.” you muttered, sirius heard you making him sigh. you turned around and began to walk away. he called your name as he followed you around the house, you did not want to face your parents or his. sirius calling your name caught everyone’s attention. they all watched as sirius followed you, disappearing around the house. james quickly followed leaving everyone making lily confused, leaving everyone confused on what happened.

sirius heard james so he stopped and let him follow you out of the yard.

he continued to call your name but you continued to walk away from him, he finally caught up to you grabbing your wrist.

“baby—“

“do not call me that!” you yelled at him yanking your wrist from his grip, “you do not get to call me that anymore.” the tears kept falling, there was no stopping that. james had tears in his eyes, it was a mess.

“please, just listen to me.” he begged, you scoffed. “no you listen to me, you chased after her for years!” realization struck him, sirius slipped and told you.

“you- what the hell was i too you, james?” desperation filled your voice, “i love you! an— and. god!” you groaned turning your head away. “i was never yours, but you were mine. all the time. while i was away, i was yours— writing to you, thinking about you, calling you, everything! while you were chasing her!” your voice rose in anger.

james had finally let the tears fall, he never knew it would ever come to this. you guys had been best friends since birth, literally. two weeks after you were born, he was. sharing birthdays growing up because the two of you wanted to share it. then he fell in love with you, and you fell in love with him.

now everything was crushed, your friendship and your relationship, he was losing you— he could see it in your eyes.

“i am so stupid.” whispering to yourself, again. luckily he didn’t hear you.

“just, enjoy your friends, james.” you spoke quietly as you turned away and james was so heartbroken he let you walk away, he watched you walk up the stairs to your porch and disappear into your home.

you immediately walked up your stairs and fell onto your bed, sobbing. not even ten minutes had passed when your mother realized you were gone, and she went back home to find you. she walked up the stairs quickly seeing your door open and the sounds of your sobs, her shoulders sunk seeing her daughter like this.

“sweetie.” she whispered sitting on your bed putting her hand on your shoulder.

“i thought he loved me back.” you spoke between sobs, you knew she knew because she was your mom. even though you didn’t tell her this one thing, she knew. the nights he snuck into your room or watching the two of you from the potters kitchen window.

“oh, my sweet girl.” she slid her shoes off and wrapped her arms around you letting you cry. soon enough, your father came home sensing something was wrong when his wife didn’t come home, he saw the two of you but let you be.

almost an hour had pass when the tears stopped, your mom wiped your cheeks and kissed it. “go take a warm bath and i’ll cook your favorite dinner.” she smiled as her hands were on your face, nodding softly the two of you got off of your bed.

later that night, you laid in your bed thinking.

james was never yours to lose.

[buckxtommy]

bucktommy as teachers!! ☆ this was a prompt fill for @911actions requested by @daddykinkkinard –thank you so much for donating! 🍉

today is the last day you can send in prompts! so please check out gotcha 4 gaza carrd & consider donating $5+ or an e-sim and getting some cool fanworks in return!

[imthebadguyyy]

Iron Hearts

With the same fire and charm that runs in the Stark bloodline, you’ve never been one to fade into the background.

pairing : steve rogers x reader fandom : mcu synopsis : As Tony Stark’s younger sister, you’ve always shared his brilliance and bold personality. Outgoing, witty, and never afraid to speak your mind, you’re just as comfortable stealing the spotlight as your brother is. But when Tony ropes you into joining the Avengers' operations after the Chitauri invasion, the last thing you expect is to clash with Captain America, Steve Rogers—a man so different from the fast-paced world you’re used to. Steve’s stoic, old-fashioned values collide with your free-spirited nature, sparking a connection that’s as electric as it is infuriating. As the Avengers face new threats, you and Steve find yourselves drawn together in unexpected ways, each challenge bringing you closer. The world is always in need of saving—but will the Iron legacy and a shielded heart leave room for something more?

EPISODE 1 : COLLIDE

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The low hum of machinery filled your private lab, a familiar and soothing backdrop to the glow of various monitors and the holographic interface suspended above your desk. You were in your element here—surrounded by sleek gadgets, circuits, and blueprints only you understood. The soft, sterile light of the fluorescent bulbs bathed everything in a cool hue, making the outside world feel distant, almost irrelevant. Your hands moved with practiced precision, making the final tweaks to your latest invention—something sleek, cutting-edge, and powerful. It was not for public eyes, least of all Tony’s. Let him bask in the glory of his Iron Man suits and his public heroism. You preferred working in the shadows, away from the spotlight. After all, the real power came from the things people didn’t see.

Just as you were about to run another test, FRIDAY’s calm, computerized voice broke the silence. “Incoming call—Tony Stark.”

You let out a small, exasperated sigh, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Of course Tony would interrupt now, just when you were getting into the groove. Without breaking your stride, you gestured toward the nearest screen, signaling FRIDAY to patch the call through.

Tony’s face flickered to life on the screen, his usual cocky grin already plastered across his face. He looked annoyingly well-rested for someone who constantly threw himself into world-saving chaos.

“Hey, sis. Got a minute?” His tone was casual, but you could see the mischievous glint in his eyes. Tony always had an ulterior motive.

“Not for you,” you shot back, though your lips twitched with a slight smile. You’d perfected the art of giving Tony a hard time over the years. “What do you need, Tony?”

“Can’t a brother call to check on his favorite sibling?” He leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. “We both know I’m your only sibling.”

“Touché,” he admitted, chuckling softly. "But seriously, I need you."

You froze momentarily, your hand hovering over the interface. Tony rarely outright asked for help, and when he did, you knew it was big. Slowly, you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest as you gave him your full attention.

“I need my secret weapon,” Tony added, his voice dropping to that tone he used when he really wanted something.

You blinked at him, skeptical. “Secret weapon? Tony, I’m not about to be your backup tech support.”

Tony grinned, undeterred by your resistance. "This isn’t just tech support. It’s big. New team, new mission, bigger stakes. And who better to help me keep this bunch in line than you?"

You hesitated, glancing at the half-finished prototype on your desk. For years, you’d operated under the radar, happy to let Tony soak up the limelight. Being his sister came with a certain level of scrutiny you’d avoided like the plague. You preferred the quiet. The idea of stepping into the Avengers' world—especially now��seemed chaotic at best.

“I’m not suiting up, if that’s what you’re thinking,” you finally said, narrowing your eyes at him. The last thing you needed was to get dragged into one of his world-saving escapades in some shiny new armor.

“Of course not,” Tony grinned, though there was a playful glimmer in his eyes that told you he wasn’t ruling anything out entirely. “Just come to the Tower, meet the team. If you hate it, you can go back to hiding in your lab and pretending you’re not a genius like me.”

You rolled your eyes, though the thought lingered. A new team? A new mission? Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check it out. If things went south, you could always disappear back into the shadows. But something in Tony’s tone hinted at urgency, something serious brewing on the horizon. He wasn’t just calling for fun. He needed you.

With a resigned sigh, you pushed off from the desk. “Fine. But this better not be some ploy to get me into an Iron suit.”

Tony’s smirk widened. “No promises.”

The call ended with a flicker of the screen, and you were left standing in the soft hum of your lab, the weight of Tony’s request hanging in the air. You glanced at your half-finished prototype one last time before grabbing your jacket, muttering under your breath, “What have I gotten myself into?”

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Later, at Avengers Tower, you stepped into the grand lobby, the space sprawling before you like something out of a futuristic movie. Towering glass walls reflected the sunlight, creating a dazzling effect that made the entire room shimmer. High-tech displays blinked with data and notifications, while sleek metallic accents added to the modernity. It was a world apart from your cozy lab, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how Tony had truly outdone himself with this place. The grandeur was impressive, but you felt a knot tightening in your stomach, a sense of unease settling in as you stepped further inside.

Just as you took another step, a voice sliced through the air behind you, cool and assessing. “So you’re the sister Tony doesn’t like to talk about.”

You turned to face him, your heart pounding slightly at the sight of Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, his muscular frame radiating authority. His expression was carefully neutral, but there was an edge to it—a mix of skepticism and something akin to wariness. He looked you up and down, his gaze critical, and you could already sense the judgment simmering beneath the surface. He thought you were just another Stark, another piece in Tony’s ego-driven game.

“And you’re the soldier out of time,” you replied, matching his coolness with your own. The words felt sharper than you intended, a defensive instinct kicking in. “Nice to meet you.”

Steve offered a tight nod, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t smile. “Tony’s told me a lot about you.”

“All bad, I hope,” you shot back, a hint of a smirk dancing on your lips. But Steve’s expression remained unyielding, the weight of his gaze unwavering.

“I’m not here to judge,” he stated, but his eyes bore into you, steady and measuring, as if he were trying to peel back layers of your identity with sheer will alone. “Just here to see if you’re serious.”

“Serious?” You scoffed, your heart racing with indignation. “About what?”

“About helping, about doing what’s right. We’ve got enough egos on this team.”

Your smirk faded, replaced by a flash of frustration. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know your brother.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Tony,” you retorted, your voice sharper than you intended. The tension between you crackled in the air, palpable and thick. You hated the feeling of being judged before someone even bothered to know you, and clearly, Steve didn’t like the idea of another Stark stepping into the fold.

For a moment, silence engulfed you, and you could almost hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. The intensity of Steve’s gaze felt like a spotlight, and you wondered if he could see through your facade, exposing the vulnerabilities you kept hidden. You could sense his protective instincts flaring, the weight of responsibility resting on his shoulders, and somehow, you felt like an outsider even though you were family.

Just as the tension threatened to spiral further, Tony strolled into the room, an air of nonchalance enveloping him. “Hey, you two! Getting along already?” His grin was impossibly wide, brightening the atmosphere even as it made the air around you feel heavier with unresolved tension.

You shot Tony a glare that could’ve cut through steel. This was not the time for his usual bravado. Steve merely shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching in an attempt to contain a smile. “We’ll see,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes still fixed on you, as if he were weighing the likelihood of your success in this new venture. Then, with a final, assessing glance, he turned and walked off, leaving you standing there, frustration simmering just below the surface.

“Great. This is off to a fantastic start,” you muttered under your breath, a mixture of annoyance and apprehension churning inside you. The day had barely begun, and already you could feel the weight of expectation bearing down on you. As the lobby buzzed with the energy of heroes and high-tech innovation, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a tightrope, teetering between proving yourself and succumbing to the shadows that felt all too familiar.

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself, reminding yourself that you were here to help. No matter what Steve Rogers thought, you had your own strengths, your own path to carve in this world. You just had to figure out how to make them see that.

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The air in the war room was thick with tension as Tony briefed you on the mission, his voice crisp and urgent. “So here’s the deal: leftover Chitauri tech has been activated by HYDRA operatives in the city. It’s supposed to be a routine clean-up mission, but we know better than to underestimate anything HYDRA gets their hands on.” His brow furrowed, the usual playful glint in his eyes replaced by a seriousness that made your stomach knot.

You listened intently, nodding as he laid out the plan. But as he insisted you tag along—even if just to observe and assess—you felt a mix of excitement and dread. You weren’t officially part of the team, yet here you were, being dragged into the chaos by your brother’s unwavering belief in your abilities.

When you arrived at the scene, the streets were already in chaos. The sounds of sirens blared, drowning out the shouts of frantic civilians being evacuated. Smoke billowed into the air, curling around toppled cars and shattered glass. You felt a chill run down your spine as you surveyed the destruction.

Amid the chaos, Steve barked orders at the rest of the team, his authoritative voice cutting through the noise like a beacon of hope. You hung back, monitoring the situation from a mobile unit that Tony had rigged up for you—a lifeline of information in a storm of uncertainty.

“Stay behind the lines!” Steve called out to you over his shoulder, his tone firm as he and Natasha led the charge into the fray.

You rolled your eyes, a mixture of annoyance and determination bubbling inside you. "I know what I’m doing, Captain," you shot back, trying to sound more confident than you felt. The last thing you wanted was to be coddled like a helpless child.

Just as the fight erupted, the atmosphere shifted. A crackling energy surged through the air, and before you could process the threat, one of the HYDRA operatives unleashed a pulse from the Chitauri device. The wave of electricity shot toward you, a blinding flash of danger that sent adrenaline coursing through your veins.

In that split second, everything shifted. Time seemed to slow as you braced for impact, your instincts screaming at you to move, to do something—anything. But before you could react, Steve surged forward like a force of nature. He slammed his shield into the ground with a resounding thud, creating a barrier that absorbed the surge of energy before it could reach you.

You stumbled back, wide-eyed, the reality of what had just happened crashing over you like a tidal wave. Steve turned to you, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. “I said stay behind,” he said, his voice clipped, but there was a hint of protectiveness that made your heart race.

“I had it under control,” you snapped back, though deep down, you knew that wasn’t entirely true. You felt a surge of embarrassment rising within you, the remnants of the adrenaline making you defensive.

Steve didn’t argue further, but his gaze lingered on you, his eyes searching yours as if he were trying to gauge the depths of your resolve. The moment stretched out, thick with unspoken tension, and you could sense a silent acknowledgment between you—this was new territory for both of you, a fragile thread connecting your destinies.

But as quickly as it had come, the moment shattered. With a final look that communicated both concern and determination, Steve charged back into the fray, his shield raised high as he fought against the chaos. You stood there, heart racing, grappling with a whirlwind of emotions—frustration, admiration, and a flicker of fear for what lay ahead.

With a deep breath, you refocused on the task at hand. You weren’t going to let this moment define you. You had to prove to yourself, and to Steve, that you belonged here—among heroes and legends. The fight was just beginning, and you were ready to carve your place in it.

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The mission concluded in a flurry of activity and relief, but the tension between you and Steve lingered in the air like an unresolved chord. Back at the Tower, you settled in front of the computer, the glow of the screen casting an almost ethereal light across your face as you replayed footage of the battle. Each frame brought back the chaos—the electricity crackling, the screams of civilians, and Steve’s shield slamming into the ground just in time to save you. The rush of adrenaline from earlier mixed with a more unsettling feeling as you examined the moment you almost lost everything.

As you scrolled through the footage, you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Steve; the weight of his gaze felt palpable, a steady warmth that contrasted sharply with the intensity of the battle you had just fought. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his silhouette framed by the soft light of the hallway, watching you with a quiet intensity.

“You handled yourself well out there,” he finally said, his voice low and sincere, cutting through the silence that surrounded you.

Surprised, you glanced up at him, momentarily meeting his gaze. “Thanks,” you replied, your voice a mix of pride and humility.

“But next time,” he continued, the firmness returning to his tone, “don’t make me have to save you.”

A small, teasing smile tugged at your lips, a spark of your trademark confidence flaring up in response. “Don’t worry, Captain. I won’t,” you shot back, your tone light, though beneath it was a current of seriousness.

Steve didn’t respond immediately, his expression shifting as he studied you. In his blue eyes, you caught a flicker of something deeper—perhaps a grudging respect, maybe even a hint of admiration. It made your heart flutter unexpectedly, a rush of warmth that was both thrilling and confusing. The Captain of America saw you, and for a moment, the weight of expectations from being Tony Stark's sister lifted, replaced by a connection that felt genuine.

He nodded once, a subtle acknowledgment of the moment shared between you, before turning to leave. As he walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just another fleeting exchange. You were carving out your own space in this team, proving that you were more than just Tony’s sister—you were a force to be reckoned with in your own right.

Left alone in the dim light of the lab, you turned back to the screen, but your thoughts were no longer on the footage. Instead, your mind lingered on Steve’s quiet strength, his unwavering resolve. You were beginning to understand that there was more to him than just the Captain—the man behind the shield had his own battles, his own vulnerabilities.

And you felt an undeniable pull towards him, a sense of camaraderie that was slowly transforming into something deeper. The mission had ended, but the journey was just beginning, and you were more determined than ever to prove yourself—not just to Steve, but to the entire team.

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The mission had been a success, but the moment Steve saw you—Tony’s sister—standing there, he felt the weight of responsibility tugging at his heart. He knew you had potential; he’d seen you handle yourself with surprising skill, but he wasn’t prepared for how much the little spark in your eyes got under his skin.

Leaning against the doorway, he watched you replay the footage of the battle. You were focused, your brow furrowed in concentration, and it captivated him. You radiated a unique blend of confidence and determination, much like your brother, yet with a warmth that was distinctly your own.

When he finally spoke, telling you that you handled yourself well out there, he truly meant it. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he felt a mix of admiration and wariness wash over him. You were Tony’s sister—his little sister. He recalled the stories Tony had told him about your childhood, the sibling rivalry, and how fiercely protective Tony had always been of you. That instinct felt like a wall between them, even as he felt drawn to you.

“Don’t make me have to save you,” he warned, hoping to impress upon you the importance of caution. He had seen too many people underestimate their enemies, and he didn’t want you to be another victim of that recklessness.

Your response—light and teasing—pulled a small smile from him, but it was quickly overshadowed by concern. “Don’t worry, Captain. I won’t.” It was infuriating how effortlessly you seemed to deflect his concern. You had a spark that reminded him of Tony, but there was something more disarming about you. Something that made it hard for him to maintain his composure.

He nodded, more to himself than to you, before he turned to leave. He didn’t want to admit how much your presence affected him, how he found you attractive in a way that made him question everything he knew about focusing on the mission. But he also understood that getting involved with Tony’s sister could complicate things—complicate his already tangled life.

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As the days turned into weeks, you became a more permanent fixture in the Tower, and Steve couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly you blended into their chaotic team dynamic. Watching you interact with the others was eye-opening. You had Tony’s quick wit, but there was a warmth in your approach that brought out the best in everyone.

He remembered a moment during a team meeting when Clint made a joke at your expense. Without missing a beat, you shot back, “If you’re going to insult me, at least make it clever.” The room erupted in laughter, and Steve found himself chuckling along, secretly impressed by your tenacity.

But the more time he spent with you, the more he struggled with his feelings. You were intelligent, fiercely capable, and incredibly brave—qualities he admired. Yet every time he looked at you, he felt the ghost of Tony’s protective nature hovering over them. He could practically hear Tony warning him to keep his distance, reminding him that you were off-limits. It was a mental tug-of-war, and every glance between them only heightened his awareness of how close they were getting.

One evening, you both worked late in the lab. He caught you watching him as he threw punches at a training dummy, a curious smile dancing on your lips. It was a moment of connection, but it also made his heart race in a way that both thrilled and terrified him. He knew you were trouble, yet there was something about you that drew him in, like a moth to a flame.

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a/n : so this is new series im experimenting with!! not proofread. any comments tips suggestions you have would be highly appreciated. happy reading!!

TAGS

all writing - @roslastyles420 @hopefulinlove@bluesongbird-blog

marvel -

to be added to the taglist send me an ask or a dm specifying which fandom 🩷

[ravishinglavishingluvr]

loving is easy | poly!rosekiller x Black!oc

pairing: poly!rosekiller x black!oc, regulus’ twin warnings: fluff, gn!oc, not edited wc: 427

“finally! you’re back!” barty had announced with a smirk as evan entered the dungeons, his feet dragging along the cold stone floors. the slytherin common room was characteristically cold, the only warmth came from the fire in front of the you. as the night wore on, the number of occupants dwindled, yet the fire remained steadfast. all that remained were you, barty and regulus as you waited for evan to return from the library.

you and your twin turned to face the blond when the only reply he could muster was a heavy sigh. catching evan’s eye as he approached, you exchanged a small smile, though it seemed to take some effort from him.

“come sit, evan,” you gestured to the armchair opposite the three of you. “you look exhausted, my love.” evan only hummed in response. he slowly made his way towards the couch where his two lovers and friend sat, briefly caressing barty’s neck before stopping in front of regulus.

“shift it,” he murmurs to your twin.

“evan, there’s an empty chair right behind you,” regulus argues.

“reg,” evan sighs, “now if you’d please.” his tone left little room for argument.

regulus grumbles about his audacity now that he’s dating his sibling, but reluctantly moves anyway. evan slumps into the space next to you, arm resting on the back of the couch and legs spread in front of him. regulus and barty ease back into their conversation before evan’s arrival. you watch his face closely. feeling your gaze, evan tilts his head and offers another small smile that reaches his eyes, looking a little more relieved now. you return his smile with a wink and run your hand through the hair at the nape of his neck, his eyes couldn't help but close at the feeling.

as evan relaxed into the couch, he eased into the animated conversation. His arm slid from the back of the couch to around your shoulder. The comfort of your presence and the brush of barty’s arm against his fingertips gave him the solace he had being craving for the whole day. he sighed once again, shoulders drooping.

your eyes start to ache and grow heavy as it gets later, it takes all your effort to remain upright and attentive as the three boys converse spiritedly. you quiet down, and opt to listen to them talk in front of the crackling fire. but your head seems to grow more and more heavy as the late night turns to early morning. your head drops to rest on barty’s shoulder. noticing this, evan pulls your legs over his lap, guiding you into a lying position where you rested your head onto barty’s bouncing leg that stills almost immediately.

that’s how the rest of your night passed, your head in barty’s lap and evan gently caressing your ankles as the three of them talk and you offer a remark or a laugh at their bickering. eventually the conversation drowns out and your eyes begin to drift closed, and the only thing you can hear is the muffled conversation and the roaring fire. the only thing you can feel is the scratch and tug of barty's fingers at the hair near the nape of your neck, and the worshipping, barely-there drag of evan's palms against your ankles.

across from you, regulus watches evan pause the delicate attention on your ankles to pull the blanket draped over the back of the couch over your unmoving figure, and barty pulls the blanket to cover your shoulders that shiver underneath your thin pyjamas. the moment lasted only seconds, before his sister’s lovers return their gaze to him to quietly continue their playful banter in the glow of the fire.

[rei-comfort-zone]

Today is February 17th ! ! ! 💌 ‼️ 🫀

(Ironjaw's and Ash's 3 year anniversary lololol, I don't have new doodles of them but I wanna rant about him)

LIKE LIKE, HE IS SO SILLY I LOVE HIM SM, I feel that I'll never love another character like I do with him specially since it all started in 2023 ! ! (3 years omg-..)

No one can love him like I do💔 (I literally own him my art skills that I develop so far😭😭😭 I'm not kidding)

He is literally the reason why my artstyle glow up so quickly from one month to another and I learned to appreciate it... 2023, 2024 and now 2025 omggg

And I love the impact I made in my moots😋

He is one of those characters that clearly not a lot of people in the fandom wanted back in 2023 but I saw in him (idk what I even saw in him) but it was love at first sight ! Like I'm so sorry I never cared too much about Bill, Pete, Jerry nor Josh I just wanted Ironjaw💔😭😭Made me feel special to have him as my special silly guy even if he looks like this pic:

He heals my heart sm and IS JUST RAAAAH💥💥💥

Love the fact that people starts to appreciate him sm

My top 3 favorite Ironjaw x Ash drawings of 2024 ! + a extra that I want to re-draw so bad💔💔💔💔

I wanna re-draw so bad the Scott Pilgrim reference💭

That one is pretty old but Evan liked it so I still like it💔 (Is close to going to my "old drawings" archive-)

[nobitchs-world]

Me: I love horror movie slashers

My scary ass if I ever saw them:

[eccentricallygothic]

Psycho Husband!Steve Rogers who is a crazed coercive bastard.

Warning(s): Noncon, misogyny/sexism, depraved housewife kink, head shaving/hair cutting, he's a mental mf who thinks he is only doing what's best for you; cruel punishments are care and better sense according to him, age gap, fear kink, infantilization, humiliation, size kink. MDNI. 

. . .

You meekly sit atop your husband, Steve Rogers' lap as he feeds himself and you the dinner you meticulously prepared for him as he cares greatly for detail and perfection. 

The older man hums with each bite, one large paw caressing your back from over the thin -nearly sheer- material of one of the many dresses that make up the entirety of your wardrobe. 

“Absolutely delicious, baby, good job” he has been praising you with each bite and so you cannot help but smile at the compliments, your smaller body resting against his as you gently comb his hair with your fingers.

This is good.

Him being pleased is good.

“Thank you, my heart” you kiss his cheek that he had shaved just this morning when you were on your knees getting rid of his morning wood. He usually does that at night but you chose to wear a certain dress yesterday that caused for you to remain trapped in bed from the moment he got home till the both of you woke up tangled and sticky.

“See?” Now his fingers silkily glide up the length of your spine, past its dents that appear on your nape and towards your scalp that holds no barriers between your skins. “Wasn't I right?” Steve's fingertips flex all over your shiny head that he keeps empty from any hurdle between yourself and him. “Didn't it make things all better for us, hm?” Your tongue grows heavy and you feel it beginning to swell.

But you must not speak your mind.

For you are not allowed to have one.

“Yes, hubby, you were” you feel him stroke the bald crown of your head and the feeling of his coarse skin rubbing your soft and moisturized one sends shivers down your spine. 

His dark but relaxed blue eyes watch you, outwardly friendly but secretly inspecting you closely for the tiniest slip up. “Just too stupid to see it back then, weren't you?”

You nod nervously, offering him a smile as you avert your gaze from his, choosing to awkwardly play with his dress shirt instead. “Yes, hubby, I was.” Before you look up momentarily. He hates it when you don't look at him while speaking. “Thank you for teaching me better.” 

“And what did I teach you?” You bite your tongue, his words scalding your ears. 

Of course, he wants you to say it.

It is a routine that he likes to do every night. 

“That you are always right because you know better.” You resist the urge to cringe from how he suddenly gives you a burst of praise head rubs. 

It is a trap, meant to set you off.

He knows you don't like his hand rubbing your bald head like you're some kind of an animal and he still does it.

You've made the mistake of fighting back one too many times in the past.

But now you know it never fares well for you.

So better to just obey.

“Yeah?” His eyes begin to dance all over your form in that lewd fashion of theirs. “And how did I teach you that?” This is nothing new, and yet your heart drops.

“You taught me by…” Your face becomes hot from the embarrassment and humiliation. “B- By…” Fuck.

Even after all this time, it's no easier to do it. 

“By?” You can feel his sick arousal poke into the back of your thigh. He shifts to readjust himself. “Know what, honey?” He actually has the gall to sound friendly like he's doing you a favor out of the goodness of his heart. “I'll help your little mind out by giving you a hint.” You cannot hold his gaze anymore. So you drop your eyes and train them on his collars as you whimper into his cheek from how he hugs you closer with the arm he has draped around you. He loves proximity. “It had something to do with a machine and a cute head” his long fingers caress your scalp in circular motions.

Your heart is erratic against his chest. “H–” the whimper you let out is shaky and pathetic. Your expression falters into one of pain but you recover just as fast. At least on the outside. “T- Taught me by shaving my head.”

Steve's smirk is one of pride. “Oh? And what setting did I shave it on? Did I leave anything behind or did you become a complete cueball?” 

Tears sting your eyes from the sensitivity and helplessness as you feel your throat tighten even more. “N- No, hubby. Nothing was left. You shaved it all off…” Closing your eyes momentarily is the only way you can let out your next words. “Until I was a cueball.”

“And why was that, huh, baby?” Now he speaks to you like you're a child. 

He does that when he is horny. 

The realization makes your stomach twist.

“B- Because you warned me many times but—” your voice breaks and you softly sob into his cheek all of a sudden because the memories overwhelm you. “I didn't l- listen and my hair kept getting in the food I would prepare for you.” He somberly cooes and lowers your head forwards in a submissive position to caress the links of your spine.

“Oh, honey. Is that what happened?” Though Steve rests his cheek atop your bald head that he keeps shiny with scented oils and feigns sadness his bulge is too stiff against your tender skin for his little act to hold any weight. 

“Yes, hubby.” Your tears fall on your lap. 

“And how did it happen, huh, darling?” He loves the helplessness of your situation. That has got to be it. “Can you tell me?”

You nod and swallow the bile in your throat. Denial is not an option. “The scary razor went all over my head, hubby” you make yourself sound like a baby because that's what he likes. “Like buzz buzz buzz~” you try to mimic the sound and gesture as you run a pretend trimmer over your naked scalp. 

“Aw, it was scary for your little baby self, was it?” You timidly nod, pouting a little. “That's because you're so small and easily scared, aren't you?” He presses kisses all over your head and pinches your cheek. 

“Yes, hubby.”��

“Aw, my poor girl” he cups your face and lets his thumb trace the shape of your mouth. “I get it, you’re just a baby” he cannot but kiss you deeply before speaking again. 

“But it was necessary, wasn't it? And it worked” it is typical of him to seek validation for his unhinged actions from you, probably helps him sleep easier and pumps his pompousness further. “No more hair in the food.” He smiles and forces you to look at him by tipping your head back.

“No more hair in the food.” You echo him like the hollow doll he has made of you.

“Awww” he chuckles at the dejection in your voice. “Cheer up, silly. You look just as perfect as the first moment I laid my eyes on you” his lips repeatedly peck yours for a few moments. Then he continues. “I am the only one whose opinion matters for you and I think you're the most gorgeous thing alive” he scoops you up in his arms before standing up and you give him a smile like you're supposed to. He leans in to capture it in his own. “The cueball only makes you sexier and more nude for me. So it's a win all around” you whimper into the words he utters against your mouth. “C'mon, hubby will make you feel all better.” He whispers before carrying you to the bedroom. It is impossible not to be aware of your devastation and that is why he offers compensation the way he does. “Yeah?”

All you can do is nod defeatedly.

. . .

If you made it down here, hi you're cool. 

[moonysloveee]

The First Fall of Snow

James Potter x fem!reader

Content: pure fluff , sirius sister

Authors note: hi!!! First one shot on this account I really hope you enjoy also if you have requests or suggestions on how to make my writing better please comment. reblog this or i will find you.

Anyways enjoy!

word count: 1.1k+

The weather outside was perfect. Especially for you. It was the first snow of winter. Once you had looked outside your dormitory you immediately got dressed and made your way out of the door.

The marauders sat in the common room, Peter was trying to beat Remus at exploding snap which wasn’t going too well for him. Sirius and James sat back watching in pure boredom knowing that Remus was going to win anyway.

You were walking down the steps while putting on your coat before making your way through the common room and through the portrait.

“Where’s she off to?” Sirius questioned looking around at his mates.

The boys shrugged which caused Sirius to roll his eyes.

“Well, wherever she is going I’ll follow her. It has to be more entertaining than watching Moony beat Peter again.” Sirius said standing up.

James stood up as well “I’m going to.”

Sirius nodded at both the boys and exited the common room. They had to catch up with you because you were a good distance ahead of them.

“Ah, following me like a bunch of lost puppies, I see.” You remarked seeing your brother and James follow behind you but nonetheless continued to walk.

James laughed “Anything is better than watching Remus beat Peter for the hundredth time. You know that love.” He said now matching your pace.

You rolled your eyes shaking your head before Sirius spoke up.

“What are you doing anyways?” Sirius inquired putting his hands in his pockets

You smile shrugging your shoulders “Just taking a stroll, it’s the first snow of winter.”

Sirius clicked his tongue “There it is. You and your hyper fixation with snow.”

James grinned “You have a hyper fixation with snow?” He stated curiously.

“Oh yes, she does, since I can remember.” Sirius spoke for you before sighing dramatically.

“Well, I’m going to go back into the common room before I freeze my balls off I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” Sirius warned before turning around and going back towards the direction of the common room.

Silence fell on the pair as you made your way towards the courtyard. Once you had finally reached the courtyard, you walked out and oddly lifted your hands to try and catch the snow. You grinned feeling the cold flakes brush your cheeks.

James leaned on one of the pillars observing you. He knew you were gorgeous. I think everyone in Gryffindor Tower knew but seeing the way your eyes lit up upon seeing the snow and the way your usual sarcastic smile turned into one of absolute joy was something James never knew he wanted to see.

He watched your cheeks and your nose began to turn a shade of red due to the cold outside but it honestly looked like you were immune to the temperature. He felt a grin begin to make its way onto his face.

‘You were absolutely angelic’ James thought to himself. This caused James to quickly shake his head. No, he couldn’t think about you in that way. Sirius would never allow that.

You found your gaze landing on James who stood leaning against a pillar with his hands in his pockets. The way he was staring at you made your heart speed up a little. You walked towards him and stood in front of him before grabbing his hand.

“C’mon don’t be a bugger. Enjoy the snow with me.” You said with a smile before pulling him along into the snow.

James followed you like always. ‘Merlin he really was a lost puppy’ he thought to himself. You finally stopped pulling him and you quickly ran backwards.

“Okay Black, what are you doing?” James asked with a confused grin.

Meanwhile, you smiled mischievously as you began to pile snow in your hands.

“Oh, you wanna play that game with me? James said tilting his head challengingly only making you nod your head

“Bring it on Potter.” You taunted before lobbing a snowball right at him.

He licked his lips shaking his head before reaching down and tossing one right back at you. You grinned getting closer to him and slinging one right at his groin. He tilted his head and instead of picking up a snowball, he ran towards you.

You ran as fast as you could while trying not to slip on the wet snow. It didn’t take long for James to catch up with you. He grabbed you by the waist lifted you off the ground and put you in a position where you hung off his back.

“Put me down, you buffoon!” You shouted with a mix of laughter seeping into your speech.

“No can do love!” He shouted before spinning you around a little to make you dizzy.

You laughed before he set you back on your feet. You looked up at him grinning like a child and he looked back at you with a grin you couldn’t quite put a finger on.

James stared at you with nothing but admiration in his eyes. Even with your hair now messy from hanging upside down and your cheeks bright red. He still thought you were gorgeous. Without even thinking he walked closer reaching out and tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

You felt your smile fade as you watched him look at you. The way he was looking at you right now made butterflies erupt in your stomach. You licked your lips staring right up at him.

“James, watch it.” You spoke softly and he tilted his head.

“I don’t think I want to though.” He said taking a step closer.

“James, what if Sirius sees you or one of the other Marauders.” You stated in a warning tone which only made James smile even wider.

“So what? You know I have no problem taking on Sirius.” James replied letting his hand rest on your practically frozen cheek.

You stood in place looking up James. You always thought James was attractive. There was no denying that but the way he was looking at you now was a dangerous game.

James leaned in slightly brushing his lips over yours “Tell me not to and I will never speak of this.” He vowed.

You couldn’t even say anything. You wanted this just as much as him. He grinned and leaned in pressing his lips against yours with a sense of purpose.

You felt his other hand find your waist as his other hand never left your cheek. You smiled into the kiss letting your hands find the hair on the back of his neck. He pulled you impossibly closer before he pulled his lips away while kepping you close.

You felt a massive smile form on your face without even realizing it.

“Merlin you’re stunning.”

Just a small reminder to please reblog and comment!!! It gives me so much motivation!

my masterlist

my best friends i love you <3 - @lydiasfalling @laufeysvalentine

[whore-ibly-hot]

Hello!! Ive been a fan of your yandere boarding school since the first part! And i was just wondering if you could maybe wrote about something like what are their favourite like positions? Like maybe how Carter's is like reader is on their knees and positions wheres hes most likely in power? im so sorry if it doesnt make sense (,,•﹏•,,)

Love this, that's very Carter.

Harrison: He wants typical missionary, or even getting your legs on his shoulders, but he has to see your face. He knows something like Doggy would maybe make you feel better, but he wants to see how pretty you look with him on top. He doesn't want you over-exerting yourself, he's your man, an athlete! Its his job to use that stamina to please you. No need for cowgirl or anything like that. Just let him take care of you.

Pez: Doesn't necessarily have a favorite position, but he's very into risky public sex. Sex under the bleachers at an event, sneaking away to do it in one of the locker rooms, that's what he wants. He likes teasing you about keeping it down while simultaneously trying to up how loud he makes you moan each time. Let him bend you up over the sink counter and go to town, he'll take the fall if you're caught.

Tyler: Giving and receiving oral is actually his favorite. He's a chef, everything he's good at comes from his tongue and sense to taste. Believe me, he's good with his mouth. He likes how intimate it is. In his head, people hook up all the time, rutting away, but he thinks it takes a little more intimacy to do oral. And he loves giving praise, he wants to make sure you know how good your doing. That's easy when he's able to brace himself against a chair or couch while you go to town.

Evan: Doggy for sure. He likes how dominant it makes him feel, how animalistic it is. He also likes that he can kind of pin you down, keeping you there. Feeling you squirm while he has easy access to grope the rest of you whole pounding away is perfect for him. Besides, he spends most of his time in the locker room, and there's plenty spots to get you bent over in there.

Joseph: Whatever position you want, he wants, but he's also a fan of missionary. It lets him go slow, and his body pressed flush to yours feels about as intimate as it can get. With missionary, it gives him enough control with speed and depth to take suggestions from you, he's very eager for feedback. His dirty secret is he wants to film it sometime, video himself in a p.o.v. type shot going at it with you. He's far too scared to ask you for it, but after you seem him glance at his camera enough during, you get the idea.

Carter: Like anon said, he prefers to feel he's in charge. However, as much as he likes you on your knees, under a desk or in his dorm servicing him, he likes having you on his lap. He gets easy access to any part of you'd he'd like, you have to bare it all but he doesn't even have to undress for it. He can make you rut against his thigh, or touch yourself, and he doesn't have to do a thing. He's big into making you work for his cock. It's only fair, all the time he spends looking after you.

[juiles]

Horror Movie Queen

Requested: yes

Summary: a teen reader whos done a bunch of horror movies is filming a scene where she has to scream, freaks everyone out in the cast. Italics is the filmed scene.

Tags: really just fluff except one mention of torture and hitting

Masterlist here.

Request form here.

Taglist here:

A/N: Its short but its something new. i think im getting back to writing again so thats exciting!!

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Y/n sat staring at the star studded cast in front of her at the reading table. Scarlett Johansson, Robert Downey Jr., Tom Holland, Elizabeth Olsen. It was wild all the people she had spent her whole life looking up to, and here she was, about to film a whole Marvel movie with them.

This was new territory for her too. A whole new genre of movie, different from the horror movies she was known for. The rest of the cast didn’t watch her movies so they didn’t know how she worked.

“Y/n? You okay?” Chris Evans asked waving his hand around in front of her face. “You zoned out there.” He added softly to the teen who flushed slightly and nodded looking down at her hands. “Have you done enough reading now? Are you ready to get into costume and makeup?”

Y/n paused for a moment picking at her fingers before she looked up and nodded. “Yeah. Ill go get ready. I’ll see you guys tomorrow?” She took a quick glance around at everyone who shot her small nods before she disappeared. When she finally came to set, fully ready for her scene, her manager waved her over.

“Okay… lets get this over with guys.” She said, her manager chuckling at the bored look on the teenagers face that was currently covered in bruises and blood, her clothes hanging off of the girls frail body, a gash across her face where a scar usually sat on her characters face.

She was filming her background scene, how her character, Maddison, got where she was, fighting with the Avengers. The torture and pain the character had gone through obvious with the way she was dressed. “Alright you, are you ready to scream?” Thomas asked the girl with a grimace, knowing what he had to pretend to do to the girl. She nodded and stepped on to the set, a cold damp cell that had red splatter all over one wall, showing what she was supposed to have gone through. Thomas stepped forward, the director getting ready for filming, unknown to the teen, the rest of her cast mates stepped in to the studio, hiding in the shadows.

Scarlett elbowed a nervous looking Lizzie who motioned to the makeup on the girls face, the blonde shook her head slightly motioning to be quiet with a finger to her lips. Evans eyes widened as he studied the gash on the girls face. They all knew it was makeup, but as they had grown protective of the young girl, it scared them all. The all focused in on the girl when the director called action.

--Filming scene--

Maddison, a 13 year old girl who had been kidnapped by Baron Strucker at the age of 5, sat huddled against the bloody wall, her whole body shaking as she slowly lifted her head, a giant gash across her face, towards the man standing in front of her. The man merely raised his hand that held a ragged, rusty dagger and slashed down at the girl, her face getting slashed.

The girl let out a blood curdling scream, a scream so loud it even made Strucker take a step back out of shock. The man then turned on his heel and slammed the cell door closed whispering to the girl. “No one will ever want someone as disgusting as you.”

--Scene over--

The director called cut and y/n stood up and with a lack of emotion on her face and grabbed her water bottle. She had barely gotten a sip of it when she was collided with, a pair of arms wrapping around her, gripping her tightly. The teen squeaked as she tried to move the blonde hair to see the horrified look of all her adult castmates standing around her. She patted the back of what she assumed to be Scarlett with a look of confusion running across her face.

“What was that?” Mark asked as he nervously twisted his hands. “How did you bring that up? That was so real…”

“What do you mean?” Y/n asked as Scarlett finally pulled back. “I’m confused?”

“It was very convincing sounding darling.” The actress said, one hand not leaving the teens arm. “Are you okay?”

“Oh. I’m fine?” She responded. “I did- have you guys never seen any of my movies?”

RDJ looked at the girl sheepishly. “Your movies are intense kid… theyre a little scary for most of us.” The teen barked out a laugh shaking her head.

“My whole career I’ve only done horror movies, that scream just is what it is at this point. Nothing behind it, just 5 years of perfecting it.” She said with a small shrug and a small smirk on her face.

“Jesus kid, you gave us a heart attack as a whole.” Hemsworth chuckled as he ruffled the girls hair making the teen roll her eyes with a small smile as she was called back to the set.

Taglist: @mythixmagic @boredandneedfanfics @natashamaximoff-69 @asiangmrchk13

[reginawhorge01]

ATTENTION ALL “x black reader/black OC” writers!!🚨🚨

STOP using black tags and your face claim or OC is Hispanic/white/etc. yall are using a tag to get ppl to read your works. All we want is a book where it is shown or written that the reader is black. Stop lying and just start writing books with more black girls. Thank you!!

[innorogers]

Heliophilia

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: Why are you always hiding from him?!

Warning: Fluff / Fluff / Very Fluff / Comfort / Very Comfort / Sooth?

Characters: OC, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Natasha Romanoff

Also: This a new series ❤️ It's called: Burning Sun ✨

As far as Steve Rogers had been led to believe, the world adored Captain America—the symbol, the shield, the unwavering ideal. And not just the world—his teammates, the Avengers, and everyone he led—they liked him too. Sure, he was serious, but he was also kind, funny, and always a gentleman. He combined the decisiveness of a commander with the empathy of a brother-in-arms, leading not from arrogance but from an innate understanding of his soldiers’ hearts.

But beneath the weight of the shield and the praise, there was always one person whose gaze seemed to cut through the surface, treating him with an odd distance. It wasn’t disdain, though sometimes it felt close, nor was it indifference. It was something more elusive, more personal—a quiet tension that stirred between them.

Yeah that was the polite Jane Austen version.

In reality…

"What is wrong with her?" Steve exhaled after you’d given a laser-focused, perfect-in-every-way mission report, nodded politely, and walked away. Turning to Natasha, he finally voiced the question that had been nagging him for what felt like a million years: "Am I some kind of monster?"

"Who? Oh, her Captain...?" Natasha replied with your last name after the title, barely glanced up from the game on her phone, one she’d started five minutes after the briefing meeting started. "Why would you say that? Why are you picking on her… ?" Again.

"It’s just…" Steve ran his hand through his hair, a little more frustrated than he cared to admit. "She’s so… polite."

"Last time I checked, that was a good thing."

"And she’s always so… distant. If I’m standing here, she’s in the opposite corner, or hiding behind the curtains." That last part was an exaggeration, of course. You never actually hid from anything, but it felt like a metaphor for the way you always seemed far away from him.

Natasha didn’t blink. "I’ll tell her to sit on your lap next time."

"I’m nice." Steve said, walking by her side, nodding and smiling at everyone who greeted him with a courteous "Captain."

"Yup, you are."

"And respectful."

"No one like you, Cap."

"So why is she so strange to me?" Steve couldn’t understand. You’d been working together for almost two years, and still, your answers to him were: "Yes, Sir." "No, Sir." "Yes, Captain." "No, Captain."

Sometimes he ran into you in the halls or elevators. He tried making small talk—"Had a fun weekend?" "Yes, Captain." "Nice weather." "It is, Captain." But he quickly realized it was better to smile and endure the awkward silence.

You never looked him in the eye. You always looked at the floor. Sure, the Carrera marble on Level 2 was impressive, but it wasn’t that fascinating.

"So, is this a ME problem?" Steve resigned. He constantly reflected on himself, but this time, he couldn’t figure it out.

Of course it’s a YOU problem, Natasha thought, rolling her eyes. She had lost that level of her game anyway, so she pocketed her phone and shook her head. 

"Look, she’s just a tough player, alright? She likes to keep people at a distance. You can’t blame her for not being a social butterfly. And she’s like that with everyone."

"No, she’s not. She’s relaxed around Clint, Vision, and Bruce," Steve argued, he knows that because you typically confined your hair in a sleek ponytail, but when you are at ease, you start arranging it by letting it cascade, and he seems you do that sometimes when you talk with these folks. Those lucky bastards.

"She has casual conversations with Tony, talks about pilates with Maria, and she’s practically friends with Sam."

"Everyone’s friends with Sam," Natasha gave him a 'duh' look. Then, resigned, she said, "Look, just talk to her."

"Talk to her?"

"Yeah, like normal people do." Natasha gestured between the two of them. "Tell her how you feel about the way she acts and maybe that you’d like to… be closer."

"I…" Steve wanted to say he tried so many times, but then he asked himself: why his immediate response wasn’t ‘I don’t wanna be closer I wanna know what’s going on’? Maybe it is because being closer is what he really wants.

"And maybe then you’d know why…" Natasha added, shaking her head. Everyone knows why, Rogers. The girl had been in love with you since day one.

“And Steve…” Black Widow opened her mouth but then decided to shut up. She glared at him and just said it in her mind: maybe you don’t want to smile like that when you are thinking about her? It’s a little creepy. 

But she just smiled: “Talk to her tomorrow, you know, in a casual…encounter? So it doesn't sound like you are giving professional feedback about her behavior.” She waves her head in a suggestion: “You know, tomorrow's Family Day, I think it's a great chance to chat…”

“Hmm…” Steve nodded, hesitant. Good idea. 

Miss Heleana Christensen from the Data Department was a girl everyone loved. 

Silky skin, a petite figure, wavy brown hair, and dimples that appeared when she smiled. She wore large, round glasses that constantly slid down her nose, which she’d push back up with a finger now and then. When she was deep in thought, her lips would purse tightly, making the dimples on her cheeks flicker in and out of view—she was that kind of girl-next-door everyone adored, not just for her looks but because she was so damn cute.

Her job wasn’t fun—in fact, data analysis? Thank god there were professionals handling those never-ending Excel sheets and querying big data in the infinite Stark Industries database. 

But she worked hard, striving to perfect every task, because she wanted the ‘mightiest heroes, the best team in the universe’ (her words) to receive only the most accurate and flawless reports. She put all her effort into making sure everything was right. 

She actually believed she was saving lives, not excels.

Who wouldn’t like such a hardworking sweetheart?

So when Helaena asked Captain America if he wanted a coffee at Stark Industries’ Easter Charity Event, aka Family Day, with her sparkling eyes and cute dimples peeking from her smile, even Steve Rogers—who was always careful not to give any colleagues the wrong idea—found it hard to say no.

Family Day was held the Saturday before Easter every year. On that day, employees brought their families to the outdoors (the massive private Stark Industries compound) for games, picnics, barbecues, and maybe a picture with the Avengers for their kids to show off at school. 

It was a huge thing, and almost everyone attended. Though family members were encouraged to come, most attendees were single, turning the event into something of a casual dating scene.

“I would be honored.” Steve smiled, accepting her offer, and of course, he wasn’t about to let her pay for the coffee. Ever the gentleman, he bought the coffee and cake himself, but when he went to pick them up, he noticed you behind the counter.

Fuck, you didn’t have the chance to hide.

“Hey.” Steve smiled at you. A little surprised. He actually was looking for you everywhere.

“Captain.” You glanced at him once before quickly lowering your eyes, instinctively taking a small step back. Ugh…look at you: white t-shirt, jeans, and a ridiculous pink apron with a coffee stain you poured on yourself two minutes ago. You really wished you were wearing your blood-stained, sand-covered badass gear instead, but no, you had to be like a first day in work barista.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, glancing up at the booth sign. “I thought this was the data team’s booth?”

The charity event was set up like a kermesse, with each department having its own booth, and all the proceeds going to Stark’s foundation. As if that would add any zeros to its wealth.

“Um… I’m just helping out a friend,” you replied softly, forcing the least awkward smile you could. “What can I get’ya?”

“Oh, um… two cappuccinos. And… I don’t know…cake?” He blinked a few times as he scanned the menu.

“The apple pie just came out hot.” You brushed a strand of hair covering your face, feeling yourself blush. “And I think it’s low-calorie?” You say that, but what the fuck would you know? You rolled your eyes at yourself in silence.

“Sounds great.” Steve smiled warmly. “I’ll take two, thanks for the calories heads up.” 

He handed over the cash, but in an awkward moment, you missed grabbing it. The bill slipped onto the counter, and as you both reached down to pick it up, the moment your fingers brushed his skin, you recoiled like you’d touched a live wire.

“I am so sorry.” That was dumb as fuck. And you called yourself an elite soldier with these reflexes? God help this planet because you surely couldn’t.

“No, my bad.” Steve chuckled, shaking his head, and wondered—why are you acting like this, AGAIN? Was he really that intimidating? 

Just as you turned to get his change, a voice called out from behind the booth, “Yo, I’m back! Thanks for covering.” Your coworker returned with a big smile. “Hey, Cap! What can I get ya?”

“Hey, George. Got everything I needed already, thanks.” Steve greeted him with a smile and handed over the order. You were already stepping away, untying that ridiculous stupid stupid! apron.

Steve wanted to say something, but then a voice called from behind.

“Cap!” Sam appeared, clapping Steve on the back. When he spotted you, his grin widened graciously. “Oh man, did you finally make a move? Did you ask her out?”

That made you freeze. Your hands paused, still hanging up that pink thing. You held your breath, not daring to look back. Or to breathe. Damn it, Sam.

Steve exhaled in exasperation at Sam’s not-so-subtle comment. “I gotta go.” He muttered, giving Sam a warning glare. “Knock it off.”

“Oh shit.” Sam whispered, watching Steve hand the coffee to Helaena as they walked off together. Clicking his tongue, Sam shook his head. “That was awkward.” 

Then when noticed you trying to walk away unnoticed, he approached with a sigh.

“You know…” Sam leaned in a little with a knowing smirk, “You should tell him something if you want anything to happen.” He tilted his head toward Steve, who had walked off with Haelena but still glanced back at you once more.

“I’m not…” You rubbed your forehead. “Is it that obvious?”

“I mean, no… not to everyone. But I’m The Falcon, ya know? Top-tier observation skills. So yeah, I noticed.” He grinned brightly. 

“And so have Natasha, Tony, Wanda, Vision, Bruce, Maria, Clint, the Parker kid, Thor, the cleaning lady, your crew, my crew, even the bald guy with only one eye… you get the idea.”

“Great.” You were mortified. Maybe asking for a mission to Saudi Arabia tomorrow would be a great idea so you can get the hell outta here.

“Well, since we’re on the subject,” Sam added casually, “I think he knows, too.”

“What?” Nope, Saudi is not gonna do. Asgard now, sounds quite far enough.

“And I think he likes you, too.” Sam continued. “So maybe stop acting like a teenage girl, and be the badass sniper you are? Ask him out for a drink or something, I’ll bet first rounds he’d say yes.”

“I…” You didn’t know what to say. “I… I’m not…” 

And your gaze wandered back to Steve, who was walking with Helaena, his smile as gentle and radiant as ever.

That smile.

It was like sunshine cutting through clouds, golden rain filtering through the mist at dawn. Warmth that chased away the darkness, scattering any lingering shadows.

You sighed, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m not…that.” you finally said, looking at Haelena. 

Look at her: she’s cuteness in person. The kind of girl who could open her heart and arms, ask for hugs and kisses with a bright smile, make people feel lucky to have met her, bringing sunshine, and stirring feelings of tenderness or protection.

You lacked many virtues, but self-awareness wasn’t one of them. You knew exactly what you were: ashes of war, bullets cracking in helmets, blood and sweat, sleepless nights, anxiety, stubbornness, and severe insomnia.

“Exactly.” Sam smiled at you, his tone encouraging. “You’re just the most badass woman I’ve met…”

He paused.

“...after Nat, Wanda, Pepper, Maria… but you know…”

“Nope.” You laughed softly, voice barely a whisper. “I don’t think I am.” At all. 

So Family Day hadn’t gone as expected. Steve had done plenty of talking, just not with you.

He hadn’t seen where you’d been all day, so his last chance was on the bus taking everyone back to the facility. He noticed you slipping into the last row. As the door closed behind him, the bus started moving, and he caught glimpses of you in the front-row mirrors.

You sat alone at the back, no one nearby. Should he move closer? This might be his chance—maybe his last one—before you returned to your usual role as the distant, official soldier, always holding up an invisible shield against him. 

Steve sighed, watching you. The sunset cast a glow on your silhouette, drawing a golden line in your contour, you looked like an ancient Greek statue, frozen in time and in eternal beauty, taking his breath away.

Then, without warning, you stood up, and Steve frowned. 

What's wrong?

The attack hit before he could even turn around. 

A missile struck from the right side of the bridge, blowing half of it apart. Fortunately, the traffic was sparse, but the explosion left a massive hole, and several cars couldn’t stop in time, plunging into the gap.

The air filled with the acrid scent of burning debris as the bus windows shattered. The bus collided with other vehicles that had braked suddenly, crashing several times before finally stopping. Instinctively, Steve threw out his arm, shielding those around him from the impact.

"Is everyone alright?" He called out, standing up and scanning the bus. His eyes anxiously searched for you among the dazed passengers. Natasha and Sam had already jumped out of the broken windows, moving into action.

"Open the door!" Maria, blood trickling down her forehead, kicked open the rear exit, supporting a nearby passenger. "Everyone out!" she urged.

"Three V65 drones." You muttered, pressing your hand to a cut near your eye as you struggled to your feet. The ringing in your ears from the explosion made it hard to focus. 

"Northwest direction... G9 missile. Fires every minute and a half, maybe two." You reported aloud while helping Maria guide people off the bus.

"Evacuate everyone," Steve sighed in relief after finally seeing you. "Everyone." He repeated, his eyes locked on you.

But, of course, you didn’t consider yourself as "everyone." You were already off the bus before he could called you out. After helping Maria get the rest of the passengers out, you returned to the back, retrieved the gear, and took cover behind an overturned car.

“I’m a minute away,” Tony’s voice buzzed through your comms, accompanied by the hum of his suit. “I’m with Sam in the air. We’ll get the people near the river out first.”

“Make it quick!” Maria ordered, firing behind the defense line Steve had set up amidst the chaos. “Who the hell are these guys?” A second missile whooshed through the air just as she finished.

Iron Man deflected it with a repulsor blast, but much of the enemy fire began targeting him in midair. He barely managed to destroy the missile that posed the biggest threat before getting hit by another shot, almost knocking him out of the sky.

The missile struck the riverbed, shattering the bridge’s support. The ground beneath you began to tilt as cars slid down into the chaos, dust and debris swirling around. But the enemy fire didn’t stop.

"Sam, break through their front line!" Steve commanded, dodging falling cars as he raced up the slanted bridge, pulling Maria with him.

“Watch out with the cars rain!” Natasha called out with a hint of amusement, also making her way upward, dodging vehicles sliding into the water. "Feels like Washington all over again."

“Washington wasn’t that fun, we weren’t even there…” Tony quipped from above, just before stopping mid-sentence. "Cap, behind you...!"

Steve spun around, but he was too late. Two gunshots echoed, and a figure appeared in front of him, taking the hits meant for him.

You hit the ground hard but got up quickly, clutching your wounded shoulder, your fingers digging into the wound to staunch the bleeding.

Before Steve could react, you had already raised your gun, aiming past him. He hesitated, stunned, but two more shots rang out, passing a hair's breadth from his skin, followed by the grunts of fallen enemies behind him. 

He couldn’t even process, and you were an all blur of motion, storming past him like a whirlwind.

You kneed the first attacker in the jaw, grabbed the second by the elbow, twisted his arm until you heard a ‘crack’, and used his own knife to dispatch him quickly. Then turned his weapon on the third, shot him down before he could even trigger the damn thing.

"Damn!" Sam muttered, watching in awe as you moved swiftly, fiercely.

Two bullets weren’t enough to slow you down. Pain was good. It kept you sharp, focused.

You surged forward like an arrow, calculating distances, the wind, mapping enemies at your sight. 

You were pissed. 

No, pissed was not even close to describing it.

You were furious. 

The thought of anyone attacking him like that, of him being hurt, filled you with a fire that made you faster, deadlier.

This was the kind of soldier you were—driven by adrenaline, pain sharpening your senses, your fury igniting your determination, making you more dangerous with every wound. And that anger... oh that was just the cherry on top.

"Enemies at my 12." You reported, spotting the last of them. But before you could act, the ground beneath you cracked, and you slid down as the bridge crumbled.

Massive chunks of concrete tumbled into the water below, the steel and iron reinforcements snapping like fragile threads. You fell along with the debris.

“Get her!” Steve’s voice broke, filled with panic. "Now, Sam!!"

"On it!" Falcon swooped down, grabbing you just in time, lifting you across the collapsing bridge. As soon as you landed, you were already moving, sprinting ahead.

"Where are you going?" Sam shouted.

"The sniper’s that way!" You yelled back, leaping over overturned cars. "VG5 ammo—they’re likely still in the same spot. South of where I was."

You were fast, crouching down, and aiming. "Wind at 30 km/h, bullet speed at 400 km/h..."

"Distance: 200 meters..." You steadied your breathing, focusing. "This shouldn’t be a problem.." you muttered, despite the pain throbbing in your shoulder. Your left arm was nearly useless, but you gritted your teeth and kept your eye on the target.

You just needed to focus. 

You’ve done this shit a hundred times and in worse conditions. 

So, focus.

Two shots, and one of the snipers fell. The others scattered, but your bullets found them quickly.

"Wow..." Sam whistled in disbelief. "Girl…I didn’t mean this when I said ‘go back into badass mode’."

He reached to pat your shoulder, then noticed the blood soaking through your uniform. "Shit, you’re hit."

"You're hurt," Steve arrived seconds later. "Let me see—how bad is it?" His voice cracked with concern. “What were you thinking?! I could’ve blocked those shots with my shield…Why..." The thought of what could’ve gone wrong—the bullet straying, Sam not reaching you in time—tightened a knot of fear in his chest.

Before he could inspect your wound, you collapsed from blood loss.

Steve caught you just in time, lifting you gently as a groan escaped your lips.

"Nice catch, Cap," Sam quipped, still finding time to joke.

"Shut up!" Steve snapped, uncharacteristically irritated, as he cradled you in his arms. The scent of blood filled his senses as he looked down at your pale face. You hadn’t completely passed out, but you were clearly in pain, biting your lip to stay silent.

As he carried you, you curled away from him, avoiding contact. 

Damn, why are you doing this again? Steve almost grunted in frustration, but then he saw your pale face and his heart just clenched.

"You’re making this hard for me." Steve sigh as giving up, he spoke as softly as he could. 

"Here, let’s..." He gently moved your arm around his neck, tucking it in place. "There, better?"

"I... I don’t want to stain your clothes with blood," you muttered weakly.

Steve couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He stared at you, trying to not lose his temper in your stubbornness, frowning slightly. "You saved my life. And you’re hurt."

Quickening his pace toward the medics, he added. "You could burn all my clothes and I wouldn’t give a damn."

Of course nothing happened between the two of you after that attack, Steve was too busy getting his hands on whoever the fuck that was behind the attack, he was outraged. 

Well, not only him, the whole Level 1 and above were in the same state, like…who the fuck would dare to attack the Avengers so publicly? They felt invaded and insulted, even if the whole enemy team was captured or eliminated, that didn’t take away the fact that everyone went through danger. On family day!

Steve was pissed. Not only because all the investigation took 90% of his time, but also because he didn’t even get the chance to see you while you were lying in the hospital. All that stuff he was planning to tell you in a private and emotional state? Didn’t happen, at all. 

“What do you mean she’s been discharged?” Steve demanded, after reviewing your health report on the tablet. He set it down sharply on the desk and looked at Maria, his tone serious. “It’s been three days. She took two shots to the shoulder. How could she be discharged so soon?”

Commander Hill received the “I told you to go easy on this topic” look from Sam, and scowled to Steve: “I…don’t make the rules? She is level 1, Cap, I don’t think she received the same treatment as in a regular hospital…I bet this is where Stark’s healing magic tech kicks in.”

“Shit.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Alright... fine. Do we know where she is?”

How in the world would I know? Maria thought but offered, “We could track her mobile. It’s probably on 24/7.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Steve didn’t want to do that, to intrude your privacy, but he was worried. He didn’t even know why, or…as whom was he worried, as your supervisor, your team mate, your fellow work pal? Like, you weren’t even that close. 

“Yes. Do it. Send her location to my phone.” Grabbing his jacket, he added, “I’ll be back in a few.”

“…” Commander Hill opened her mouth to say something like ‘I gotta more important shit than crashing to your crush’s mobile’, but Steve already left the room, she looked at the completely silenced room full of all the Avengers, and just did a ‘what just happened’ face. 

“Five bucks says he doesn’t get the girl today.” Tony broke the silence.

“Yeah, I’m in.” Clint was the first to respond, followed by Nat and Rhodey.

While the others were placing bets on your so-called romance, Steve was already tracking your phone. At first, he thought the GPS was glitching because it was leading him to the MET.

Actually, it was working perfectly (Tony would later smugly confirm that). You were at the Captain America exhibition, which had been relocated from Washington to New York after the Smithsonian became a crater, courtesy of a Helicarrier.

Steve slowed down when he found you in the exhibition hall, his steps halting completely when he saw you.

It was a weekday, during work hours, so the place was nearly empty. 

The natural light streamed in from the ceiling, casting large patches of sunlight that quietly illuminated your silhouette as you sat on a long bench, bathed in a soft, glowing light.

Your gaze floated, like a gentle river, to the black-and-white photograph on the wall in front of you.

It was one of the few preserved images of Steve before the serum. Back when he was a slender, delicate young man with refined features, frail and thin.

Steve barely remembered looking like that. These days, all he saw in the mirror was his current self—tall, strong, healthy. Now, standing in front of that photo, he found it almost unfamiliar, though he could still faintly recognize the determination in those unchanged, resolute eyes.

But you—he was looking at you. Your gaze was so tender, your head tilted slightly upward, a faint smile playing at your lips. The soft curve of your mouth radiated quiet contentment, and in your eyes, there was nothing but the reflection of that photograph.

Nothing but him.

That’s when Steve knew.

There was nothing else, in your eyes, but him.

All his nervousness and uncertainty melted away, replaced by a sudden warmth and joy.

Leaning against the wall, Steve realized he had the same look on his face. You were gazing at a photo of him, and he...was gazing at you.

And in his eyes, there was nothing else, but you.

You heard the soft echo of footsteps behind you and turned slightly, freezing in place when your gaze met his.

He was standing in front of you, every inch of his silhouette outlined by the backlight. Just his presence, just being in his shadow, made you feel incredibly safe. For a moment, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. But instinctively, you lowered your gaze, flustered.

You wanted to hide. You felt like a mess—a bandaged shoulder, probably some ash still in your hair, and the faint smell of the hospital clinging to your skin. But he was already sitting beside you.

“I used to get sick a lot back in those days.” Steve said, his eyes on the picture of his younger self. “Whenever the seasons changed, I’d get fevers and runny noses.. Spring was a little better, but the pollen made my asthma unbearable. And summers...” He sighed. “Brooklyn was a nightmare. Hot and humid. My joints ached constantly. Joining the army was probably the worst idea I had, but I was stubborn.”

He laughed softly. “Stubborn as hell. When it comes to what I want, the goals I’ve set... and the people I care about.” 

His eyes never left yours, and you could see your own bewilderment reflected in his steady gaze.

“I don’t buy it for a second... that you don’t know.” He said softly, pausing for a moment before you lowered your eyes again.

You wanted to hide, but under his gaze, there was nowhere to escape.

“If you were so afraid... why did you take all those risks for me?” Steve asked, his voice quiet. Why were you so fearless on the battlefield but treated him like something to fear in everyday life?

“I remember everything, you know?” His voice softened, distant as he recalled the past. “All the risks you’ve taken. Sometimes... reckless, bold...”

He shook his head, a mix of frustration and admiration in his voice. “God, I remember our first fight, you broke enemies lines, just to get my shield back…I was desperate, and then you come back with that…impeccable yet stubborn as fuck attitude ‘I’m sorry Sir but I had to do it’ shit, drove me crazy. I didn’t know what to do. You wouldn’t step back, and I knew, even if I suspended you, you’ll just go and do the same stupid and impulssive thing next time.”

You smiled faintly, looking down. Of course, you remembered. You had a scar on your back from that mission. One you wore with pride.

“So why?” Steve whispered, searching your face. “Why would you risk everything... and then hide?”

“What about you?” You asked, finally looking up at him. “On that plane, at the end of the war, why did you stay until the last moment? You could’ve escaped before it crashed into the frozen sea. I’ve seen the reports. You could’ve swam away. Why did you stay until the explosion?”

“I couldn’t,” Steve answered without hesitation. “The stakes were too high. If it didn’t explode in the sea, it would’ve been New York. I couldn’t let that happen, not even a small chance. I’d rather die than…” He stopped, getting your point.

“Right?” You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “…than having that risk?”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. Your sincerity, your determination—it made his heart ache.

Goddamn it…Why do you have to be so obstinate, inflexible, reckless…loyal, brave and fierce? He would spend the rest of his life worrying as fuck, fearing for this willingness to sacrifice attitude of yours.

Almost instinctively, he reached out and covered your hand with his. His voice barely above a whisper.

“What are you afraid of?”

Your lips move, you want to pull your hand away from his grasp, but you find yourself without the strength. 

Because you wanted him. 

As a leaf growing from a seed breaking out from the ground and reaching out to embrace sunlight and warmth. To embrace life.

You want to hold his hand back, feel his palm against yours. You know that feeling him, would be enough to know that all is well in the world, that there’s nothing left to fear. You could exist freely and quietly behind him, fearless. 

This wish. So strong yet so powerless, makes you so vulnerable, you could barely exist in his presence. 

You hesitated for a long time, trying to put the words together, trying to tell him the truth yet not burden him, and finally, you speak in a low voice.

“If the ending is something you can’t bear... isn’t it better to avoid it?”

Steve stood silent for what felt like an eternity. 

“I promise you.” 

He brushed a stray lock of hair from your cheek and lifted your chin so your eyes met his.

“There will be no ending.”

You could barely breathe at these words. Yet your heart was beating so strong, so fast, so loud, you felt it was going to explode.

“I'm scared too.” He sees your expressions, your broken soul, your fear of heartbreak and the endless uncertainty to lose something you longed for a lifetime. 

“But…” He cupped your face in his hands as if you were something precious, something he had been waiting for his whole life. 

“Being with you…it’s worth it, I’d rather have you and risk heartbreak than not have you at all.” 

The sunlight bathed you both, it was so bright and dazzling that it brought your eyes with tears.

“And I know I can’t change you,” Steve continued, his voice filled with quiet resignation. “You will continue to be this… badass goddess of war, in the first row of any fight, any battle to come. But I’ll try my best to shield you, from any danger, any suffering, or any pain. I’ll do my best. With all I have.” 

“No.”

Your expression shifted, and after a few heartbeats, you slowly smiled up at him.

“There’s no such thing… as suffering, pain, or danger…” You whisper, finally turning your head to meet his gaze. Your eyes seem to shimmer with unshed tears. “Not as long as it is with you. I’ll take it all, I’ll walk on fire and…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, his lips claim yours.

That kiss… wasn’t gentle as you imagined. Instead, it’s forceful, filled with a possessive intensity. Maybe it’s because Steve has been holding back for so long, and now, that surge of determination finally breaks free.

His urgent need to have you, the longing that had kept him restless for so long, felt like a crashing wave, carrying with it all the emotions he had hidden away. Steve’s hand cradled the back of your neck while the other wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

It was like every first kiss in the world, filled with breathless exhilaration and the glorious wonder of a starry night. 

His lips claimed yours with an intensity that took you by surprise, yet it felt natural, inevitable, as though this moment had been written in the stars long before either of you existed.

You didn’t realize it at the time, but something in Steve shifted. It was as if he’d made a silent vow in that kiss—one you couldn’t hear but could feel in the way he held you, how he kissed you like the world was ending.

In the quiet of the exhibition hall, surrounded by photographs and memories of his past, none of that mattered to him. Not the image of Captain America, not the accolades, not the expectations.

In that moment, it was just Steve, kissing the woman he loved. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t care who saw. He didn’t care if the whole world was watching.

Every poster, every photo hanging on the walls was of him, of the man everyone else expected him to be. But right now, none of that mattered. He was making a choice, and it wasn’t for show, wasn’t for the sake of his legacy. It was for you, and only you.

The world beyond the walls blurred. There were no battles, no looming responsibilities, no enemies lurking in the shadows. Just the two of you, as though time itself had slowed to witness this one fragile moment.

As your lips parted, both of you breathless, your foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, feeling the shared pulse of your heartbeats.

There was so much you wanted to say, to ask, but the words wouldn’t come. You were there, in wonderstruck, as standing in the middle of a vivid dream.

Steve spoke first, his voice hushed but filled with a resolve you’d rarely heard before. 

“I’m not going to let you run away again,” He whispered, his hand still gently cupping your face. “Not from this. Not from us.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze—those same resolute eyes that had stared back at you from that black-and-white photograph, unchanged by time or transformation. You knew then, with the same certainty as his, that there was no running away.

You won’t run. Or hide.

Not anymore.

End, but probably will continue ;)

Oh yeah, I love this fierce yet fragile OC. This is actually the translation of an original piece I wrote back in 2021? Originally in chinese so I'm SO SORRY if it's weird reading it in english cause...well, struggling with the words, hehe. But I loved this piece so much I wanted to share it with you, cause damn, I loved him so much in that part of my life :3 (I do love him still.)

And for my babes that are waiting on Miracle Nr. 12! I'm so sorry not posting about it this week cause I'm still trying to figure out whether continue with the angst plot, or the original angst and dark as f... plot that's leading the story to a very very sad and dark twist. Still has an happy ending, I promise. It will be there on next Friday!

Oh I'm sorry I got carried away writing so much hehe, hope you enjoyed it!!

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

let me know if you want to be added! 🥰

✨ Miracle Nr. 12 ✨ Series:

1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare | 5: Awakening | 6: Dusk | 7: Hypnagogia | 8: Lull | 9: Vigil | 10: Eclipse | 11: Veil