#real-jane

[navybrat817]

“I can’t not think about money. When you grow up without it, it’s everything.”

This hit very close to home, along with working in environments that brought me down. Steve is so understanding and compassionate. ❤️

an olive branch

[steve rogers x reader]

summary: you’ve reached your breaking point at work and steve wants to help you find a solution. but first… pizza.

words: 2.1k

warnings: none. established relationship, no use of y/n.

a/n: thanks to @mumbles411 for this idea! Here’s the original ask: ‘There's always the old 'comforting someone after a bad day' thing. Especially if they already hate their job. I've been there and would have loved Steve or Bucky to be there for picking me up.’ enjoy! 🥰

—

You’re almost an hour late getting home, and Steve paces the living room with his phone in hand, talking himself out of calling you again. You answered the first time–hi baby, I’m so sorry, I missed my train–and then your call dropped. Likely, you were on the platform and reception was never good down there, but that isn’t much comfort to him considering you sounded so frantic.

When your key slots into the lock, Steve beats you to the punch and rips open the door. You practically fall into his arms. 

“Mmm,” you groan, burying yourself in his chest. “Never been so happy to see you.”

“Bad day?” He draws circles on your lower back.

“Awful. I feel like a broken record, and nobody is listening.” Your sniffle is unmistakable. “How do I keep doing this every day? It’s going to break me.”

“Hmm. Take your shoes off, dove. You hungry?”

“Oh god,” you sigh. Steve steadies you as you toe off your shoes. 

“You forgot to eat, huh.”

“Didn’t have time! Three people called out sick, even Pietro was taking orders. I think I could eat a whole pizza by myself.”

“Your wish is my command.” He eases your bag from your shoulder, takes your coat, and then pats your butt in the direction of the bedroom. “Get cozy, okay?” Steve chuckles as you shuffle away to do as he says, disappearing into the comfy space to find the pajamas he had laid out on the bed after doing laundry.

“How was your day, baby?” you call.

“Boring,” he replies, typing your favorite pizza order into the delivery app. “Missed you. Did laundry. Not much going on (as far as potential fieldwork) so I caught up on some paperwork.” He’s been home for longer stretches, lately, which he has enjoyed immensely, especially because he can do the frankly outrageous amount of paperwork SHIELD sends over from the comfort of your sofa, while letting daytime tv drown the street sounds outside.

“You do a lot of paperwork for being America’s Ass.”

Steve laughs. “Excuse me, this ass belongs to you.”

“Lucky me.” You lean against the doorway. When Steve glances at you, your eyes are shining with unspent tears. He confirms the food order and tosses his phone onto the sofa. He takes his time meeting you at the threshold, but he can’t help brushing his thumbs over your cheeks.

“What’s got you so sad?”

“Steve–will you be brutally honest with me?” your voice breaks, and you curl your fingers into the front of his t-shirt.

“I don’t know about ‘brutal,’ dove, but I’ll give it my best shot.”

“Am I being unreasonable? I feel like the girl who cried wolf. All my coworkers seem to agree with me, but I’m the only person willing to say something–it makes me feel like I’m overreacting, but I can’t get strung along anymore.”

“You’re in the right,” he soothes. “Do you wanna sit on the sofa? You’ve been upright all day.”

“I don’t know if my knees bend.”

“I can help.” Steve loops an arm behind your knees and lifts you. You pretend to be aghast that he would do such a thing, but you kiss his cheek. He sits down, keeping both arms wrapped around your waist. “Let me ask you a question. Yeah?”

You snuggle against his chest and nod. “Shoot.”

“What’s the worst that can happen if you quit?”

“Well… Can’t afford my half of rent, for one thing–”

“Money aside.”

“I can’t not think about money. When you grow up without it, it’s everything.”

Steve nods. He does know a thing or two about that. “Okay. You’re right. You have concerns about paying your bills, it’s a legitimate worry. What else?”

“Who’s gonna speak up if I’m not there?”

“Dove, somebody is gonna have to find their voice. It can’t be up to you to save the place.”

“...says Captain America,” you snort.

“I have a team. It’s not my sole responsibility, and I couldn’t do it if I didn’t surround myself with people who put in equal effort. Right? I’m hard to kill, but I don’t fly. I’m bad with computers, never shot an arrow in my life, and when I get angry, I just get flushed.” You giggle at that. “But you’re carrying the worries of every person you work with. It’s unsustainable. You said it yourself–it’s too much.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But we’ve all gotten so close dealing with this bullshit.”

“Are you worried they won’t talk to you if you leave?”

“I guess I am.”

“Don’t think that’s likely; for one thing, Wanda would kill you if you didn’t go to the farmer’s market with her on Tuesdays.”

You smile. “True.”

“And we can still go there for drinks anytime you want. But not pizza–”

“Because it’s not ‘real New York pie’, yeah yeah,” you parrot the phrase he’s said to you a million times. “Where did you order from, by the way?”

“Sweetheart,” he scoffs, “the only place in the city.”

You snort. “You’re such a snob.”

“What’s the worst that will happen if you stay?”

“I’ll have a mental breakdown. I was… researching outpatient programs the other night when you found me out here super late.”

Steve kisses your forehead like he might soothe all the pain from your mind. “Oh, dove. You can’t live like this.”

“I don’t know how to leave! I have to find something else first, or it doesn’t make sense–and do you know how hard it is to find a job in this fucking economy?” You swipe your hands under your eyes furiously.

“Or–no, listen.” He kisses you, leveling his eyes with yours. You nod, but tears stream down your face. “Or… you put in your two weeks. We take a month to get you rested up. Go to a Yankees game or two. And then you can choose something which isn’t gonna drain the life out of you.”

“I don’t have enough saved up.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got you covered.”

“No, Steven–”

He tips your chin up. “Stop. I’m not keeping score, here. You’re my girl, this is what people do when they have a life together.”

You hug him so tight. “You’re sure.”

He wraps you in his arms. “Yes. And… if you realize what would make you the most happy is to sit on the balcony and paint neon cityscapes, while drinking Celestial Seasonings tea out of business, then I support you.”

“Nooo–I’m not gonna sit around while you have to do the work to pay for our life!”

“You contribute in other ways. I’d kill every plant in this place if it weren’t for you.”

“What would America say if they knew you fell for a plant lady?”

“I am asked about you in every interview, and have been since you came to the Smithsonian opening with me. I think America’s in love with you, too.”

“Awe,” you grin, pressing your fingers into his scalp with a loving scritch. “I don’t think I can make a decision tonight.”

“Perfectly reasonable. No rush. You want a bath?”

You appear genuinely conflicted for choice. “But… pizza.”

“Bath-pizza?”

You narrow your eyes. “I can’t decide if you’re brilliant or not.”

“One way to find out.” He kisses your temple. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“I’m so sorry it’s been bad for this long. It’s terrible, and you don’t deserve it.”

You bite your lip. “Thank you, baby.”

“Why are you thanking me, huh? I’m right.” When he grins, you kiss him in annoyance. He loves when you do that, like you can’t let him get another word out so you seal his mouth with yours. What a punishment.

He carries you into the washroom and sets you on the counter, promptly handing you a sheet mask from your basket, and holding up two different bags of scented bath salts for you to pick between. You point, and he nods approvingly. He starts the bath water, and the buzzer sounds.

“Dinner!” You sprint for the button, but he’s faster; Steve catches your hips and slides between you and the front door.

“Get your butt in the bathtub, ma’am. Or I won’t hand-feed you pepperonis like a princess.”

“I missed the part where that was on offer,” you cackle. “But if I go get it, I’ll be able to eat all the olives off the top by the time I get back, so you won’t be disgusted by my taste in toppings.”

“You don’t know what I ordered. Maybe I got Canadian bacon.”

“I think that’s considered treason.”

“Get!” He spins you around and presses the button beside the door for the intercom. “Hi, if you wait inside I’ll bring you some cash.”

“Cool, thanks man!” The delivery driver is in for a great surprise.

Steve kisses the curve of your neck. “If you’re not up to your eyeballs in bubbles when I get back, I’m gonna eat all your olives myself.”

“Big talk from someone allergic to them.”

“Don’t push me.” He nips your earlobe, making you yelp.

“Fine! Be nice to me! See if I care.” You stick your tongue out at him, and leap away when he attempts to pinch your ass in retaliation. He can’t help the full-hearted laugh when you peek at him around the doorway innocently. “Just checking!” you coo. 

–

If anyone knew Captain America sat on his washroom floor, feeding his girlfriend a pizza he is most definitely allergic to, they’d probably believe it. Steve is nothing if not predictable, but he doesn’t mind being known for something he takes great pride in. A lot of what he does is duty, but bringing a smile to your face and easing your burden is something which brings him inordinate joy. You make all that pressure go away. With you, he is just a native New Yorker with strong opinions about crust style, who kills plants with almost impressive frequency and overtips delivery drivers by hundreds of dollars. So–not ordinary, but he doesn’t have to pretend on days he is down, if he wakes up next to your sweet face. But when you are hurting, he hurts by proxy. 

That night, he makes sure you have all the pizza you want (pepperoni by pepperoni, being very careful to avoid the olives and washing his hands thoroughly), while you slowly turn into a prune. Once you are tucked into bed and softly snoring, he eats his own pie sitting on the floor in the hallway outside your shared bedroom, and he ponders something he hasn’t thought about in a long time:

What if he retires? 

Sometimes when you wake up and can't fall back asleep, he rubs your back and tells you hypotheticals about a little cottage in the woods with a big garden, where you wouldn’t have to do anything but figure out how many carrots to use for dinner and get good at knitting. It always puts you right to sleep with a smile. Why does it have to be a pipe dream?

When he crawls into bed beside you, and your eyes open a bit, he kisses your brow. 

“Hi,” you murmur against his chest.

“Hello. You okay?”

“Mmm.” You loop your arm under his so you can pull him even closer. Steve slips his legs between yours. “You’re very comforting.”

“Yeah?” He smiles against your hair.

“Yep. Never make me question lovin’ me.”

“Sleep, sweetheart. ‘M not going anywhere.”

You smash your cheek into his skin and you’re quiet for a minute. He almost misses your little declaration. “Gonna quit.”

“When?”

“T’morrow.”

“I’ll pick you up from work on the bike. Go out in style?”

You lift your head up enough to give him a blissful, sleepy smile. “Yes please.”

He presses his lips over yours gently. “I’ll be there.”

“Come in uniform?” 

“You really want them to feel bad,” he chuckles.

“Nah. I just like lookin’ at ya in spandex.”

“You can have that anytime.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Sure. If you want.” 

You return his gentle kiss. “Love you.”

“I love you, too, dove.”

Now, he has to find a cottage for the sweetest woman he’s ever known. Because you only make decisions like this when you’ve weighed all your options, and he wants to give you a more attractive alternative than another dead end job. Something to keep the sunshine in your cheeks, where you don’t spend a portion of your life worrying about him coming home safe.

Sam’s ready for the shield. You’re ready to quit your job. It’s time for Steve to make the call about his future, too… where he can put you in a bubble bath every night, and maybe join you, just because. The best possible life for his dove.

–

thanks for reading!

my masterlist - my marvel masterlist

[leafatlaw]

I love how fully I saw the tv glow leans into the more violent metaphors in transitioning. How you have to kill your past self, how you have to kill the kid you were. How you have to bury them and walk away with bloody hands. And that’s something trans media shys away from because, it isn’t palatable to the cis audience, you also have to appeal to. You have to make sympathize with you. It is difficult to sympathize with a murder.

But that’s why isttg excels in its horror genre. A place where queer people have always been and where blood and gore is commonplace. Where you can stand as bloody as you want and no one bats an eye.

Trans-ness isn’t always pretty or easy or comfortable. It rarely is in my experience. And to see a major movie show that, in all its uncomfortable gross glory is awe inspiring.

It’s never too late, grab a shovel.

[pancakemolybdenum]

happy bday!! suit suit for u on this lovely 413

jake

dirk

roxy

alpha kids

beta kids from last year

[hemlock-dreams]

Companion piece to the theoretical first chapter of Hunting!Spiderverse.

Ft. Depressed!Peter escorting MJ to her place of work- otherwise known as "How Peter Ended up Working at St. Margaret's."

[awnrii]

the 4 genders. or something

[that-butch-archivist]

source: That's Ms. Bulldyke to You, Charlie! by Jane Caminos

[bethanydelleman]

Reminder that Jane Austen's heroines, like all real human women, are occasionally downright mean in their private thoughts. And that's normal.

Elizabeth Bennet (of Anne de Bourgh, a woman she has never met): “I like her appearance,” said Elizabeth, struck with other ideas. “She looks sickly and cross. Yes, she will do for him very well. She will make him a very proper wife.”

Anne Elliot (on why she's better than Henrietta and Louisa): Anne always contemplated them as some of the happiest creatures of her acquaintance; but still, saved as we all are, by some comfortable feeling of superiority from wishing for the possibility of exchange, she would not have given up her own more elegant and cultivated mind for all their enjoyments...

Elinor Dashwood (on women she has known for one evening): This specimen of the Miss Steeles was enough. The vulgar freedom and folly of the eldest left her no recommendation, and as Elinor was not blinded by the beauty, or the shrewd look of the youngest, to her want of real elegance and artlessness, she left the house without any wish of knowing them better.

(Elizabeth's statement is technically out loud, but she says it as an aside and Maria Lucas doesn't respond, indicating that either she didn't hear or was too confused to reply)

[eliseliedl]

S1EP06 "Dalek" S2EP03 "School Reunion"

[dandelionjack]

sarah jane spends the majority of her adult life believing her parents abandoned her as a baby leaving her alone in a pram to be adopted by her auntie but it turns out in the end that she was the one who caused the events that led all of that to happen and essentially dropped her baby self off on the doorstep of a new life. something to think about regarding ruby sunday and figures under a hooded black cape. im on to you rtd. the trickster legit sounds like a member of the pantheon. maybe he’s running the tv show

[magic-number-3]

My Lady Jane text post meme 1/?

1.01 - Who'll Be The Next In Line?

[intrepidacious]

holy shit kate!! i loved this so much <3

new year, new steve

[steve rogers x f!reader]

summary: a stranger kisses steve at a new year's party and it ignites something in him that he never lets himself have.

words: 4.5k

notes/warnings: smut, no use of y/n.

a/n: i'm back, baby! please enjoy one of the most unhinged things i've ever written. written especially for @fandoms-writings for her neon party! <3

***

The door banged against the wall. Steve turned around fast enough to see a panicked woman rush into the room and leap at him–arms akimbo, lips persistent… she kissed him. 

Steve loved kissing. He just didn’t do it very often. Not since his notoriety became a burden, and being attached to Captain America meant more attention than most women were willing to put up with when it came with questions like how’s it feel to suck America’s dick? shouted at you coming out of his apartment building. Natasha Romanov had never once seen an inkling of Steve’s private quarters, but she had come up with a ready answer for nosy paparazzo anyhow–“Patriotic. Now fuck off.” 

Steve liked women, but by nature of his role in the world, he never got within ten feet of a woman who might really know what the country’s preeminent ass looked like outta spandex or khakis.

But this woman clung to his lapels like his tux was made of crepe paper, and kissed him within an inch of his life, and… despite all his assertions to Nat that he wasn’t interested in dating, he sure slipped his fingers into the velvet of this woman’s dress like it was gonna melt in his palms.

“Shit–sorry, Cap–” a surprised man said behind them.

“We didn’t know!” another man piped up.

The woman pulled away enough that Steve could see her aghast expression, but his body shielded her from the view of the men. He cleared his throat, and nodded at her faintly, as if to say… I’ll take it from here.

“Now you know,” Steve said evenly. Lowly. It was the only way his voice would come out after being kissed like he was a CPR dummy in a high school health class. He turned around. 

“We were just talkin’--”

“I’d say she made it pretty clear she wasn’t interested. Or do you make a habit of ignoring basic social cues, such as–say–actively trying to get away from you? Because where I stand… that kinda behavior is about as low as a guy can get. Wouldn’t you agree?” Steve crossed his arms over his chest to keep his hands from shaking. The fury rising in him seemed to come from another time, another era of his life… when soldiers choked out excuses for pursuing the dancers from his USO act, when the suit he wore was sewn from what fabric could be scrapped together in the middle of a world war and not finely woven wool.

He knew the two men before him, but not well enough to have an established rapport. They were both SHIELD recruits from the Air Force who hadn’t been around long enough for Tony to coach the bravado out of them. 

“You’re still standing here, for what?” Steve asked. Neither men had moved an inch; instead, they were both flushed and at a loss for an explanation. The taller of the two looked angry, but not enough to test Steve’s patience. Which was for the best: when it came to bullies, Steve’s patience had been worn to the bone approximately eighty years prior. 

Steved nodded to the door. “You fellas are going home. Aren’t you?” It wasn’t optional.

The angrier man pressed his lips in a thin line and yanked his buddy out of the room by the elbow.

“Cap’s old lady–Jesus, Benny…” one of the men muttered to the other as they beat a hasty retreat back down the hallway, towards the lively sounds of the SHIELD New Year’s bash. The mahogany door shut forcefully, leaving Steve and his new acquaintance alone.

He turned back to the stranger who had kissed the life out of him, and she stepped back. Her hands rose to cover her mouth, and all the anger and frustration fled from his body.

“Shit–I’m sorry–”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly.

“No, I just… they were bothering me and I couldn’t find my sister, and I didn’t realize this place dead-ended back here… you’re–oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile as she dissolved into embarrassment. “No, don’t be. Not every day a lady kisses me for no reason. Well, I suppose you had one–but it doesn’t happen much. These days. So. Happy New Year to me.” He rocked back on his heels and stuffed his hands in his pockets to pretend nonchalance. The woman wasn’t someone he recognized from the roster of agents he worked with, but… she was beautiful. And so very soft and good at kissing. Too good, maybe. Was he even any good at it anymore? Steve didn’t know. 

“Not every day Captain America comes to my rescue, so.”

“I got carried away,” he cringed.

“Agree to disagree. Should’ve heard the shit they were saying out there.”

Steve thumbed at the door. “I can drag ‘em back here for another round–”

“Don’t waste your time. I think the tall guy pissed himself. I’m satisfied.”

Steve covered a smile with a light cough into his fist. 

“You’re hiding in here,” she said softly, less a judgment than an observation. 

Steve toed the ground. “I’m not a party guy. If this wasn’t the penthouse, I probably would’ve crawled out the window.”

“No… but you’re The Guy–”

“Yeah, well,” he sighed. “Hate being looked at.”

“Hate it,” she echoed with a gentle nod. “Looking at you is torture.”

He chuckled. “Sorry to offend, ma’am. Won’t happen again.”

“Nice lips, though.” 

They smiled at one another as if neither was really sure if the other was serious, or if they ought to play it off as a silly mistake. Instead… Steve spied a sideboard with a carafe of some kind of liquor and a set of crystal tumblers. He nodded to it and raised an eyebrow in silent offering. 

“A double?” she asked.

“How about I pour and you tell me when to stop,” he said, pulling the cork from the bottle. 

“Pour it the length of the kiss.”

He peered at her over his shoulder in surprise and something like… amusement, at her candor. But she was sheepish, and just as uncomfortable with reveling in something done in haste. She twisted her hands. Rather than prolong her torture (or his), he handed her over a glass (with a matching amount of whiskey to his own), and clinked them together.

“Steve.”

“I know.” She sipped the whiskey and studied him over the rim of the glass.

“It is customary to provide your name in exchange, I believe.” He leaned against the large desk which occupied most of the center of the room.

“Everybody knows you.”

“Your sister works for SHIELD?” he pressed.

She sat in the chair at his knee, crossing her own, which allowed her hem to creep up her leg. Steve definitely didn’t choke on whiskey over a peek of ink on her thigh. 

“We’re not related. Just—my friend didn’t want to come alone so it was the only way to get me on the list. We don’t even look alike, but it worked.”

“These events are a minefield, especially solo. As our two friends demonstrated.”

“No date?”

Steve shook his head. “Not a lot of women lining up to do the song and dance.”

“Which is…?”

“Shaking hands. Kissing babies.”

“Being good enough for Captain America,” she murmured. Her brow furrowed as she studied him. 

“I’m just a guy,” he chuckled. “Put my pants on one leg at a time.”

“Huh. Who’d have thought? I can’t get a bite on any dating app because I don’t hike or take soul-searching trips for enlightenment, and Steve Rogers can’t get a date because he’s too famous.”

“Pathetic,” he said, but it made her throw her head back and laugh warmly. He felt his cheeks flush.

“I’m hungry,” she said, “want to brave the buffet line for some scraps?”

“There’s a new food truck set to arrive every hour on the hour, so. Probably still more than enough for two.”

“Can you bear being seen with me?” 

His head snapped up again at the thought of making her worry, but her face was sanguine. “Be my date?” He countered.

The pleased moue of her lips said it all. Except— “don’t usually kiss a guy until the third date.”

“All the more reason.”

“And… then what?”

Steve shrugged and cleared his throat. “I don’t know.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“You might want to, um. Adjust yourself. First.”

“I was really hoping you wouldn’t notice,” Steve cringed. His dick was straining in his briefs like he was fresh outta cryosleep seeing a woman for the first time in eighty years.

“I mean. If you wanna walk out into that party like that—“

“No, that’s good, keep it up; the embarrassment will make it go down,” he said, turning his back to her in mortification.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “I’m nervous.”

“You, sweetheart?” Steve huffed, downing the rest of his whiskey. “You got me on the verge of making a fool of myself. I don’t know your name, but my dignity just doesn’t seem to care.”

“You must think I’m desperate,” she said softly. 

Steve shook his head. “Such a thought from me at this moment might be hypocritical.”

Her mouth twisted like she was trying not to laugh, but she looked mortified.

“I’m gonna go. Out there. I’ll meet you. Um. You’re—I haven’t had enough booze to be saying this. You’re uh, a good kisser, Steve Rogers.”

“Love to do it again sometime,” he murmured, once he was alone in the room again. Still didn’t know her name, but he sure as hell was going to follow her to figure it out. Once his trigger-happy awareness cooled down. As long as he didn’t dwell on how good it felt to grasp her waist, to feel her surprised huff of a breath against his mouth when he returned her first kiss, or how good she smelled, or the curve of her calf when she crossed her legs, or… or… or anything. Think of this nameless succubus like an amorphous blob, and not like someone who seemed to map herself to his chest like she was as tailor-made to fit him as his suit.

Which… Steve didn’t remember the last time he let himself indulge in a woman. Maybe he was starved for touch, or some such thing. Regardless, he had to get out of that office, and she was a pretty enticing reason to do so. And everyone at that party had signed an NDA at the door, so he could let himself loose a little. Maybe undo the top button of his shirt. Go wild.

He downed the rest of his drink and hastened out of the haven of Tony’s office.

The hallway was blessedly deserted. Twenty strides to the mouth of the beast, and leaning against the wall on the verge of being swallowed by the throng… a familiar woman waited. He admired her figure, the way she was soft and soft and soft, and–Steve sighed. At that rate, he’d walk into a crowd with dick a-waving, and all for this woman whose name he didn’t know. He calmed his breathing and stepped up beside her. Without peering at her, he brushed his knuckles against the hand which hung at her side. She jumped, and then looped her fingertips with his. Loosely, so he’d have to be diligent about staying beside her if he wanted to keep holding on to her. 

Steve couldn’t think of many things he wanted more than that. 

Someone did catch his eye from across the room, and Steve couldn’t stop what followed. 

“Enjoying the party, Rogers?” Tony patted his shoulder harder than necessary and smiled too brightly at the woman on his arm.

“You know I love your parties.”

“He’s a terrible liar,” Tony mock-whispered to the woman.

“One of his better qualities, I think,” she replied with a tone that made Steve squeeze her fingers to… what, warn her? Stop saying nice things about me, it’s torture! She squeezed back. “I heard talk of a Cubano truck. I hope you aren’t going to let me down, Mr. Stark.”

“Cubanos await you in the front drive, along with just about any cuisine you can think of, other than the pierogis. Gone in ten minutes! I blame Banner. ‘M Tony, by the way,” he said, offering a hand. 

“I know,” she laughed, shaking his hand.

“And you are?”

“You gotta earn it. C’mon, Rogers.” She tugged Steve towards the elevator.

Once they were alone in the lift, Steve wiggled his fingers further into her grasp. She looked up at him. “I haven’t earned it, huh?” he murmured.

“Oh you have. I just like to see you squirm.” Her eyes glinted in amusement. 

Steve straightened so he loomed over her, but she lifted her chin defiantly. And then she leaned against the corner of the lift, and pulled his hand until he shadowed her from the ambient elevator lighting. But it was Steve who felt cornered. By the sweet smile on her lips, and the tug of the plush pink softness between her teeth as she watched the wheels turn in his head, and by his own desperate desire to hold a woman again, to be touched and teased–they were sharing air when he came to, a breath passing between them like it was the last air on earth, and he studied her irises… how her pupils dilated, and slyness dropped from her expression to reveal something like curiosity. She tilted her head as if to say ‘what’s wrong?’ Steve shook his head on floor fifteen, and leaned in on fourteen, and kissed her on thirteen. And twelve. And on down, but never once letting his hands do more than squeeze hers. She was peachy, and sweet like the whiskey they had shared.

She gasped when he ground himself against her, and raised their joined hands to her sides. She arched into the warmth of his fingers. Nipples pebbled. Steve couldn’t decide whether to map her body with his hands or his lips, so he chose both–nipping at the soft skin of her neck and teasing one strap of her dress over the curve of her shoulder until it slid of its own volition. God love a woman, he thought. This one, with her breast exposed to the chilled air and heat of his breath. He wouldn’t let goosebumps go unkissed, or nipples for that matter. The moan at the back of her throat when he fastened his lips around her nipple was his triumph. How much more could he find victory in her pleasure? Was there a limit to such things?

“Kiss me again?” she pleaded. Steve cupped her cheeks like an apology. The drag of her tongue against the seam of his mouth had him cursing inwardly, in language he’d never let himself utter out loud. He wanted to fuck her, but if all he could do for her was kiss her sweet mouth, that might be enough. He’d wrap a hand around his dick driving home, he could take care of himself and not put that pressure on her. She didn’t have to do a thing more than kiss him, but he wanted her to. If she wanted to. If she wanted him, too.

She smiled against his lips when the elevator dinged at their destination. Steve groaned. 

“I–there’s no excuse, I’m so sorry,” he began, but she stopped his words with gentle fingers over his lips.

“Please tell me you’re not drunk,” she whispered, straightening her dress to conceal her body, much to his chagrin.

He chuckled. “Only drink I've had tonight I shared with you, sweetheart.”

“Not one woman in your life?”

Steve shook his head. His answer seemed to satisfy her greatly, if her grin was any indication. She pulled him through the lobby, but on the front drive (despite the fact that the sidewalk was choc-full of agents and party-goers making food selections from a cadre of trucks and mingling), Steve looped her hand through his arm and made a choice. 

She kept stride with him. Away from the party, through the lot, to the over-fancy car Natasha had talked him into buying. She leaned against the passenger door, preventing him from opening it. 

“What do you want?” she whispered. “Hm?” Steve looked down at his shoes sheepishly, but she touched his cheek. “You don’t need to be embarrassed, I–I hope it’s obvious that I want you, Steve. We could go to mine. Nobody even has to know, honestly. I won’t tell. I mean, I’ll tell myself sometimes, but I won’t believe me.”

He chuckled, and then shook his head. “We’ll go to my place.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Yeah?”

“Yes. What about your friend?”

“I’ll text her.” She whipped a phone from god-knows-where and shot off a quick text. When she looked up at him again, she was flushed. “I don’t do this–”

“Me neither.”

“You don’t even know my name.”

“About that…” Steve levels his eyes with hers. “I gotta know what name I’m supposed to use.”

“Oh? You a talker?”

“A woman gives me the honor of touching her, I’ve got an obligation to a little veneration.”

“Fuck–”

“Only if you give me your name,” Steve murmured against her neck, making her shiver. 

“Then you’ll fuck me?”

“I’ll fuck you.” 

“Cap’s got a dirty mouth, huh?”

Steve cringed. “Please–if you wanna fuck Captain America, then I can’t do this–”

“No, no.” She grasped his lapels so he wouldn’t step away. “It’s not like that. You’re Steve to me. Okay? I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m–shit, sweetheart. People are going to give you so much guff.”

“Who’s ‘people’?”

“Anybody who knows. I don’t wanna hide you, but you gotta know that. There’s usually a paparazzo outside my apartment, and we’re just asking for a billion stories about ‘Cap’s New Girlfriend’, blah blah blah. You’ll have people dogging you about it–”

“Okay.” 

Steve blinked. She smiled at him softly.

“You done thinking of reasons why I shouldn’t want you? Because I’m feeling a little jerked around, here–”

“‘M done,” he said. “I just. Want you to know.” She sought the buttons of his coat and undid them so she could snake her hands inside. Steve stepped into the embrace. 

“I’ve seen what you do to bullies, Rogers. I’m not afraid.”

Steve opened the back passenger door and kept eye contact with her as he slid inside. It took her a split second to follow. The moment the door shut behind her, he hit the lock and tossed the keys somewhere and pulled her to straddle him. She nipped his ear lobe and then whispered her name in his ear. Steve rolled the letters around on his tongue and found it most satisfying to see the way her eyes fluttered as he repeated it back to her. And again when he pressed her hips to his.

“N-nice car.”

“I just bought it,” he muttered.

“Happy to help you christen it.”

“Panties off.”

He regretted that it was too dark to see the color of the panties that she shimmied to the floor, but he had every intention of offering her his laundry if they ever made it to his place, so he was confident he’d get to enjoy them on and off her body more than once, god willing. Steve forgot what it was like to slip his fingers between a woman’s thighs and find her wet, and warm–he cursed himself for depriving himself of such things as this beautiful woman shuddered at his touch. Her bundle of nerves swelled as he worried it with gentle circles, and he was in heaven.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. So wet–I’d have no problem working my dick into you and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Kissing–god, kissing makes me so fucking wet,” she breathed. “And you did suck on my nipple in the elevator. You an exhibitionist, Rogers?”

“Maybe I am. Should I roll down the windows so everybody can see you come?”

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“I want your fingers. Finger me.”

“I don’t know, you didn’t answer my question.”

“Ugh–crack the windows.”

“You want them to see you.”

“I want you to make me come so hard that I might give us away.”

“Fucking hell, woman.” Steve unzipped his pants in haste. “Roll them down how much you want them, then I’ll make you come.”

As she leaned over to the passenger side window, Steve rucked her skirt up over her hips and moved behind her so her face was inches from the glass. “What’s wrong?” he asked, but his hands made quick work of touching her exactly how he had been dying to since she first kissed him. He sank one finger into her heat as she depressed the window a few inches. 

“Someone might see,” she moaned breathlessly, sitting back to fuck herself on his meaty finger. 

“I hope they do. You’re a goddess.” He stroked her until she was turned on enough to take a second finger, and then he poised her to take them–but only if she sat on them. She worked herself down slowly, head thrown back. Her mouth was open but all coherent words fled from her tongue. Steve yanked her straps off and exposed her breasts. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

“Fuck me, please, please–”

“Soak my hand, sweetheart.” He pushed her shoulders so she had to brace herself on the door. He thrust his fingers into her pussy, taking great care not to touch her clit to prolong her climax. She whined.

“Ruin my suit. Come on. You’re squeezing me like a vice, I know you wanna come.”

“Can’t, can’t.”

“Listen to me. You can.”

“Touch my clit.”

“What do you say?”

“Please?” she breathed.

Steve crowded behind her, pushing his hips against his hand to fuck her harder into his fingers, and then he found the swollen clit again, begging to be touched. Her orgasm hit like a wave; her head fell back against his shoulder, and she keened. Loud enough to be heard from outside, and like it came from guttural pleasure. Steve reveled in the rush of cum which flooded his hand and soaked his cuff. He pressed the window button down again, releasing the glass a few more inches. Their position was shielded by a cadre of SUV’s, but if someone came for the black car beside them, they’d see her tits flushed with a sheen of sweat while she heaved with breaths of relief. Steve flicked her nipple with his free hand and she jolted, but she grinned up at him. 

“Too tired to take my dick?” he growled in her ear. She shook her head.

“Wanna see you,” she said. 

Steve helped her turn to face him, not bothering to wipe his hand or bother with any such thing. How could he think of such things when her soft hands had crept inside his waistband to cup him through his briefs? He rolled his hips as she stroked him through the fabric.

“You’re beautiful.” She bit her lip. “I need you.” She pushed him until he sat back against the seat, and tapped his hip so he’d lift up enough to let her strip his pants down to his ankles. For just a moment, Steve floated out of his body to watch from above as the gorgeous woman who had just come all over his fingers released his dick from his underwear and rubbed his tip between her folds. How lucky–the thought dissipated. She sank down, taking him slowly to savor the stretch. 

Steve blanched. “Fuck–condom–”

“Don’t need it. Birth control.” She rolled her hips and Steve saw stars. It occurred to him how long it had been since he’d felt a woman’s warmth around his dick, but this one was velvet and he didn’t care if he never fucked another woman again. But maybe he could fuck this woman a few more times. Or a lot more. 

“Oh my god, don’t… I’ll come too fast–”

“My bad,” she giggled. She fully seated herself over him and clasped her hands behind his neck with an innocent smile. “Wouldn’t want you to come, would we?” Steve glared at her.

“You think you’re so cute,” he grumbled, nipping her bottom lip.

“Big talk, I can feel you twitching inside me like you wanna come right this second.”

“Keep it up and I might not let you outta my bed for a week.”

“Promise?” 

She contracted her inner muscles and Steve bit his lip. “You asked for it. Gonna have to fuck that sass right out of you.”

“You can try, big guy.” She rolled her hips and impaled herself on him, riding him hard. She didn’t seem to care if all the world heard them, or saw her, or if he came in three seconds–and for his part, Steve didn’t see a downside. He curled his fingers into her hips and gave her back as good as she gave him. It was fucking, most certainly, but it also felt like time had ceased to tick since he felt her lips touch his for the first time. Maybe the new year wouldn’t come until he did, he thought, but boy if he wasn’t on the verge.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, slowly canting her hips. “You’re allowed to give in.”

“Am I?” His eyes searched her soft gaze, and she nodded. “I don’t get these things, sweetheart.”

“Says who? Who’s been lying to you? You don’t get to be fucked silly in the back of a car like a teenager?” She smiled. “You of all people.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Steve touched her cheek, almost like he didn’t mean to, but he felt suddenly bashful.

“I’m gonna fuck every doubt outta your head.”

She made good on that promise. When he came, he saw pure light behind his eyelids, like heat through his eyelids on a sunny morning. With every contraction of her inner muscles, he thrust up into her, even though he had nothing left to give. Her second orgasm was his final triumph. Her nails clasped his shoulders, and she moaned into his mouth, and Steve rubbed her clit until she couldn’t take any more. When her fingers found his wrist to pull his hand away, she linked their fingers. They breathed the same air again, foreheads pressed together, and both of them smiled.

“What am I going to tell the dry cleaner?” he murmured.

She laughed, head thrown back in delight. She rolled the window back up and kissed him sweetly. Nobody saw them, that they knew of, and nobody could hear them over the countdown to the New Year, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t the sexiest moment of his very long life.

Some days or weeks later, when time began to tick again, Steve emerged from his apartment one morning with a woman on his arm. They both wore sunglasses, and they didn’t shy away from smiling at one another like they shared a secret. As promised, there was a paparazzo waiting with indiscreet flashes and even raunchier questions for the woman, but she paused to pose with Steve so the man could get a good photo of them. Then, she dragged her glasses down her nose.

“America can fight me for his dick,” she said brightly to the reporter. Steve shook his head, but he laughed and followed his girlfriend to the car. Try as he might, he just couldn’t fuck the sass out of her.

Sure was fun trying, though.

***

thanks for reading!

my masterlist - my marvel masterlist

[michelle-jacksons-art-blog]

The rumors are true: Peter B. Parker has TWO hands

[cat-brrr]

Puppies

[nukednick]

tired

[hemlock-dreams]

I love MJ. Peter must have really been devastated by her being affected when he was outed as Spider-Man. I have a few questions! You mentioned in the original universe she had a relapse — was it just the same universe changes that made Peter a criminal that caused there to be an MJ that was an addict? Would the venom have caused her to die in a while like most people, or no because Peter became her supplier and had presumably good control? Wouldn’t she have known the reasons he had hesitated to kiss long eventually, since he had to tell her everything to help with the venom thing? And does his venom just… come out automatically after a bit with anything, or is it possible for him to have situations where it’s not involved at all for a time? I’m sure he misses her and usually MJ and Peter are friends before they get together in many canons, so I’m really happy that he’s able to be her friend in the new universe and didn’t lose her entirely 🥺 even if he basically had to reform the relationship from scratch. (Also if Peter and Marko were such good friends, why was he willing to put him and his loved ones in danger by telling everyone?) all of this is very cool and fun ty for sharing.

So OG-MJ was an addict before she ever knew Peter(and before everything with the knock off venom.) She had been sober for two years at that point, and continued to stay sober for a few years after she and Peter officially got together.

However, Peter was always gone, flaking on all their special dates/anniversaries etc. He'd make plans and then never show up, or cancel at the last minute. And despite being super affectionate with his words, was always really physically distant. All of this left MJ feeling really alone and angry, as she was dealing with her own abandonment issues (foster care).

Eventually, everything was just a perfect storm of frustration (struggling with her boss, Peter flaking on another date, a new job opportunity not coming through) that she ended up reconnecting with some old friends who convinced her to try 'this sick new upper'.

The issue with manufactured venom (gonna call it Aurora) is that in it's impurity, it had extremely degenerative effects at lower doses. Peter's venom, while just as bad, was 'cleaner'. He can secrete it at will, but his body starts automatically pumping it when he gets excited (not to mention his fangs do not retract!!!) (They are very sharp!!!)

As for Marko, he'd been Sandman for a while before he revealed Spiderman's identity. Not only was he mentally very unstable, but he'd been very bitter over Peter going 'straight'. They were supposed to be ride or die, but Peter kept drifting away and eventually cut ties with him when it was obvious that Marko was never going to leave the lifestyle.

Then one day, during a fight with Spiderman Marko just...recognized the body language, the words, just...something clicked, then broke. Because not only did Peter leave Marko, the guy who had his back all those years in prison, his supposed 'ride or die' was also fucking Spiderman. The guy who had been actively fucking up Marko's life for years. The enemy.

Payback was an easy decision for a guy who held tight to grudges.

And for the kicker, he didn't even sell the information, just gave it to JJ for free-- that's how much he wanted to hurt Peter. Later, he would really regret it, but it would be too late at that point.

After Marko threw Peter's life into the fire, he and MJ had a blowout fight. At the height of it, MJ told Peter to 'prove he loved her' and used her own addiction as a way to control his time and attention after being starved for so long (kind of holding herself hostage).

Yeah...it all kind of went to real shit after Lmaoo

Once again, thank you SO much for the support and all these amazing asks!! <3 <3