Winter Soldier Sketches
Listen, I'm of course very happy he got to heal and grow and find himself but... 2014 Bucky was a look.
620 notes · View notes
what if...thor were an only child?
whoo! let's do this!
277 notes · View notes
If there is not a scene in multiverse of madness where someone out of wanda/strange/loki are like "we need a place to lay low" and one of them responds "I think I know a place"
Cuts to sam and bucky opening the door to sam's house with them both immediately closing it
I'll lose my shit
303 notes · View notes
A/N: i will never apologize for being horny on main
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Word Count: 3.4k
Summary: After an entire day of staring at you in that bikini, Loki is left utterly desperate for release. Good thing he sleeps with a lot of pillows.
Tags: masturbation, phone sex, pillow humping, needy!Loki, pining
Loki shifted on the bed, mashing his face roughly into the satin pillow case. It was nearly dawn, and he hadn’t slept. Even the tiniest hint of sleep had evaded him, and he’d tossed and turned enough to make his muscles ache in protest. With a frustrated growl, he rolled onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. This was never going to work.
He had no one to blame but himself for his insomnia. Really, it was pathetic, the way his mind had latched onto one silly little human and made her the object of his obsession. You with your silky hair and soft eyes, keeping him up until the morning hours. Your melodic voice rang in his eardrums, and every time he closed his eyes, he’d see that perfect skin of yours and wish it was pressed up against--
With a gasp, Loki swiftly brought his hands down to grasp the sheets in agony. He wished he could blame it on the fact that he hadn’t bed anyone in at least a decade, but he knew himself. Celibacy had never been an issue for him in the past; he wasn’t a teenage boy, he could control his needs. But you had him feeling like one all over again. The way he gawked at you like it was his first time seeing a pair of breasts nearly spill out of a way-too-tight tank top, it was downright shameful. You were just so innocent, so pure, and he longed to see that smile collapse into a pout as you whimpered against his lips.
Despite his best efforts, Loki could feel his cock throb in renewed need. It had been begging for release nearly all night, and Loki had successfully ignored it so far. He held steady in his determination in not giving in, but his resolve was slipping. Today has been especially tortuous. Tony and his goddamn insistence that Loki participate in team bonding. A day at the beach, one which Loki spent lounging in the hot sand shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. You had splashed around in the waves with Natasha and bounced around in a bikini that seemed specifically designed to torture Loki. The bottoms had shifted themselves to ride up quite a few times, and Loki had taken pleasure in watching you reach back with slippery fingers to pull them out of your ass.
Loki’s cock throbbed again, almost violently this time. He moaned softly into the open air. The sound was pained, and Loki felt his hand begin to drift towards the string of his pajama bottoms. They were silk, and because Loki had chosen to forgo underwear, the soft material felt like heaven against his swollen erection. Before his fingers could slip inside to where he needed them most, Loki ripped them away in defiance and turned onto his side, tangling the blanket between his legs as he rolled. The pressure of the thick comforter into his crotch made Loki suck in a surprised breath. His hips twitched upward of their own accord and Loki’s eyes fluttered in pleasure.
Loki could feel his will dissolving with every jolt of pleasure that swam up his spin. His mind spun with images of you: you curled up against him, reaching back with your dainty hand to pull him closer to you, encouraging him to grind against your backside. As if he was in a daze, Loki grabbed one of the many pillows adorning his bed and shoved it between his legs. The firmness of the pillow was so much more satisfying than the blanket, and Loki groaned.
It was over, he had accepted defeat. Loki was about to hump his pillow like an animal and it was all your fault. He thought of that wet bikini sticking to your skin, your breasts bouncing as you jogged back up the beach to him and breathed out a “what’s up” like he wasn’t about to cum in his swim trunks just from watching you. As the memories danced through his head, Loki’s hips began to roll in more deliberate motions. With every thrust, his cock pressed up against the soft material of his pants. Loki could feel the pre-cum wetting the silk, but it only served to amplify his pleasure as the damp fabric clung to his skin.
The buzzing of his phone startled Loki out of his fantasies, and he nearly wanted to throw the thing against the wall. Tony would get him a new one, as he always did no matter how many times that Loki had insisted they were unnecessary devices. As much as he wanted to let it ring, Loki had learned that calls at this hour usually meant an unexpected mission, and he’d be back on house arrest if he didn’t answer. Loki reluctantly leaned over to his bedside table to grab the vibrating object, keeping the pillow between his legs. His heart came to a near stop as he saw your name illuminated on the screen.
A few moments passed as Loki stared dry-mouthed at the caller ID, wondering when he had fallen asleep. Because the only explanation for you calling him in the middle of the night was that he was dreaming. Sure, you had texted him the occasional internet video that you thought he’d enjoy, but had never called him. And certainly not at five in the morning. With a hard swallow, Loki hit the “accept call” button and waited.
“Hey, Loki?” Came your tired-sounding voice. It wasn’t as gorgeous when muffled by the phone static, but it gave Loki shivers nonetheless.
“What is this about?” Loki tried to sound as irritated as possible, figuring that would be the proper reaction to receiving a call this early. The truth was that he was elated to hear your voice, and was disgusted by himself. A mortal, making him this weak in the knees, it was absolutely pathetic.
You were silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t sleep. I-I’m not really sure why I called you, I’m sorry for waking you up. I’ll just--”
“Wait!” Loki burst out before you could end the call. His loud voice echoed back at him in the silent room and he cringed, hoping that no one had heard him. Loki bit his lip anxiously, uncertain of what to say to keep you on the line. “Um, I was awake. I couldn’t sleep either.”
“Oh, I guess that’s good. Well, not really good that you can’t sleep, I mean good that I didn’t wake you.”
Loki chuckled at your awkward ramblings. Norns, you were so cute. “Don’t worry, pet, I know what you meant.” As the words left his lips, Loki’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just called you. Pet. It had been a slip of the tongue, but it brought forth a whole new round of fantasies. He couldn’t help but imagine about what it would be like to own you, to grab you by your pretty face and push his cock between your lips over and over. Absent-mindedly, Loki began to move his hips against the pillow again. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from gasping. As quietly as he could manage, he put the call on speaker and set the phone down beside him so he could lie back on his side and resume his earlier activities. Loki knew it was so, so wrong to do this while you were none-the-wiser, but he couldn’t help it. He had been so worked up for so long and now it was like his body had taken over, hell bent on getting the relief it needed.
“So, why couldn’t you sleep?”
“Oh, just lost in my thoughts, I suppose,” Loki said as his eyes fell shut. His voice was the slightest bit strained, the soft drag of his pants against his cock making it hard to focus.
“Yeah, same here.” You sighed into the phone, and Loki heard a bit of rustling as you presumably got more comfortable. “I have trouble sleeping a lot, actually. I guess I just get lonely.”
A heavy weight of guilt sank into Loki’s chest. Here you were, opening yourself up to him, and he was trying to get off to the sound of your voice. He was truly depraved, that was for sure. But fuck, the tired rasp to your voice and the small sighs you let out were sending him sky high. His mind was running wild with fantasies of you under him, you in his lap, you up against the wall as he fucked you into it. Loki fought to sound normal as he responded to you. “I understand. Most beings are very social creatures, we need company to--ah!” A particularly rough thrust of his hips had caught Loki off guard as the mind-numbing pleasure rocketed through his body.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, pet,” Loki said, panting as he forced his hips to still. “Just stretching.” It was a lame excuse, but Loki was too far gone to come up with anything better. His body quaked as he tried to keep still, like his own muscles were attempting to disobey his brain. Everything in him was screaming out for more. Cum, you need to cum. Once again, Loki was forced to give in as his hips resumed their grinding. The pillow itself was now damp with how much he was leaking, and it felt amazing.
The phone was quiet, and Loki could almost hear how hard you were thinking on the other end. And then: “Loki, are you...masturbating?” Your voice trailed off as you said that word. The sheer embarrassment was evident in your tone, and Loki was almost astounded at how bold you were. Not many humans had the nerve to just up and ask something like that.
Even through the shock of being caught, Loki could not find it in him to be surprised that you had caught on. You had always come across as intelligent to him, it was foolish to think he could fool you with a half-hearted excuse. Still, it was beyond humiliating to have been called out so brazenly. Loki saw no point in denying it; you would not have asked if you weren't sure. “Yes,” he replied, voice cracking as he froze in place for the second time. Despite the embarrassment, Loki’s erection did not not falter. In fact, it seemed that he only got harder. This mortal would be the death of him.
“O-oh!” You seemed surprised, like you hadn’t expected him to come right out with it. “I’m so sorry, I guess I interrupted you, huh? Shit, I’m sorry.” How absurd. Loki was the one shamelessly rubbing himself against a pillow while talking to you, and you were the one apologizing.
Loki found it intriguing that you hadn’t hung up immediately upon learning of his actions. You hadn’t seemed disgusted at all, just apologetic for interrupting his activities. Loki wasn’t sure if your lack of repulsion was what caused it, or if it was simply his need clouding his judgement, but his mouth began to move before he could stop it. “It’s excellent for sleep. I highly recommend it for nights like these.”
There was no sugar coating it; that was a proposition, no matter how poorly disguised it was as simple advice. “Um,” came your faint reply. Loki’s face burned as he pictured the look of horror you were probably wearing at the moment. And then he nearly swallowed his tongue as you spoke again. “Yeah, I tried earlier. Wasn’t really...working.”
A new gush of blood found its way into Loki’s cock at your admission. He couldn’t help but imagine you writhing on your bed, soaked in sweat and your own slick as you tried desperately to get to that crescendo of pleasure. His blush had somehow grown even stronger, and he couldn’t recall the last time he had even blushed at all. This mortal was killing him, you were his executioner and he was begging for you to pull the trigger.
“That’s quite unfortunate,” Loki managed through his reverie. He was still frozen, almost scared to begin his motions again for fear of cumming on the spot. His cock twitched in time with his racing heart, occasionally dripping precum into his pants. Loki was a mess, but he could not bring himself to care in the slightest. All that mattered was the arousal screaming under his skin and your intoxicating voice in his ears.
“Yeah. Sorry, should I go? And let you, y’know, finish?”
Loki racked his brain for an excuse to get you to stay. It was maddening, how quickly you had ruined him. Seduction was one of his many talents, as was manipulation. In the past, he would have had no trouble at all talking someone into his bed and onto his cock, but you were different. Every flirtation died on his lips the moment he was in your presence, and it was all he could do to form complete sentences as you turned his knees to jelly.
After an excruciating period of silence as Loki thought, he finally spoke. “It would be unfair of me to abandon you in favor of pleasuring myself when you cannot do the same.”
This time it was your turn to stay quiet. Loki waited anxiously, half-expecting you to just leave anyway. He had already come to terms with your disinterest in him, you were probably just being polite. But...you had called him. There must have been at least a slight attraction for Loki to have been on your mind after attempting to get yourself off.
“Maybe we could…” There was a tremble to your voice as you trailed off, and Loki held his breath as he waited for you to finish. Whatever your suggestion ended up being, he was ready to enthusiastically agree. Anything that involved you and pleasure was incredibly enticing. “Maybe we don’t have to hang up, then.”
Loki’s eyes went wide. Did you mean…? An involuntary moan fell from his lips as he shivered at the thought. “I would, mm, not be opposed to that idea.” Loki’s body had won over for the final time that night and his hips began to move again. After restraining himself for so long, feeling that delicious friction once again nearly overwhelmed him.
“I don’t really know how to do this,” you said. “I can’t really believe I actually asked you that.”
“Would you like instruction, pet?”
“That might help, yeah.”
Loki began to wonder if he was dead, and this was his version of Valhalla. Whatever the case, he was going to ride this high for as long as he could. Everything else seemed to fade into the distance: the chirping of birds outside as the sun rose, the hum of the traffic down below, all of it meant nothing. It meant nothing because you were on the other side of the phone asking for Loki to tell you how to touch yourself. Loki took a deep breath and tried to get a hold of himself; he needed to let you catch up before he could allow himself to lose control.
“I want you to get undressed, and get comfortable.” That was a simple enough command, Loki figured. If he started slow, maybe he could reign in his pathetic neediness and focus solely on your pleasure.
“Okay, I can do that.” The speaker went quiet as you presumably settled onto your bed and slipped out of your pajamas. “Now what?”
“Touch your breasts,” Loki said. His breathing was heavy, but even as he settled into the role of your instructor. “Rub your fingers across them, tell me how it feels.”
You sighed happily. “It feels really nice. Can you tell me what you’re doing?”
Loki was a bit ashamed to admit that he was currently grinding into a pillow, but figured there was no point in lying. “I’m, uh, I have a pillow between my legs, and I’m rubbing against it.”
A whimper burst from your lips. “Oh, that’s so hot.”
“Is it?” Loki asked hesitantly. He didn’t feel very attractive; slick trousers and sweat coated skin, fighting hard to hold it together.
“Yeah, fuck. Can I touch myself, please?”
Loki wanted to drag it out a bit longer, to tease you, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say no to that pretty voice. Especially when you asked so nicely. “Go ahead, pet. You’re such a good girl.”
There was a faint slick sound, then a drawn out moan. Loki groaned in response, the sound extracting a full body shiver from the god. He had never heard such alluring sounds of pleasure, you were just so far above any other being he had ever met. “That’s it,” he murmured in encouragement.
“Feels so good,” you said, voice growing high pitched. “Shit, I’m not gonna last too long. Ah, fuck. Been needing this all night.”
Loki sucked in a breath and began to thrust with more fervor. His eyes nearly rolled back at the pressure and his thighs squeezed around the pillow. “That’s okay, darling. I, oh--” Loki cut himself off with a strangled moan as his pleasure mounted. “I need to cum, too.”
For a moment, panting and whimpered moans were the only thing coming through the speaker. Loki prayed that you were as close as he was, because the coil tightening in his stomach threatened to snap at any moment. It was all he could do to keep from allowing his release to overtake him before you got yours. “Please, pet. I want to hear you cum,” he ground out as his eyes fell shut.
“So close,” you whined. “Loki, I’m gonna cum.”
He couldn’t help it. Loki’s control disintegrated as he began rutting into the pillow like a wild animal. His hips moved in sharp, quick thrusts, and quiet moans left his lips with every movement. ‘Cum--fuck, mm--cum for me, love.” He was going to cum, he couldn’t stop. He just needed you to finish first.
The phone crackled as you let out a sharp cry of pleasure. Loki listened in a trance, trying to memorize every noise that left your lips as you climaxed. Your sounds spurred him on, and he found himself tipping over the edge, cumming harder than he had in a long time. Pleasure whited out his vision, and Loki could faintly hear himself whining your name in a broken voice. He didn’t get the chance to be embarrassed about the noise; his cock pulsed in dizzying waves of euphoria, spurting out rope after rope of hot cum. It shot into his pants, soaking them all the way through and seeping into the pillow. It wasn’t until the last drop had left his body that he was finally able to stop the groans that had been bubbling up from his throat.
As the pleasure subsided, Loki sagged against the bed and took in the mess he had made. His pants were ruined, no doubt about that. And the pillow? Well, it would most likely need a few good washes. But he felt sated, too relaxed to even care about the cum drying to his thighs.
“Are you still there?”
Fuck, he had almost forgotten that you were still on the phone. “Yes,” he croaked out. “That was…”
“Amazing,” you finished for him. Though you couldn’t see him, Loki nodded in agreement.
The bed suddenly felt very large and very empty after the daze of Loki’s orgasm faded. He found himself wishing that you were here, so he could wrap his arms around that perfect waist and bury his nose in your hair. It was an incredibly foreign feeling; Loki had never been one to cuddle after sex. But then again, everything about you was different. You were special. Loki opened his mouth, ready to invite you to his room, but something stopped him. What if this had been just a spur of the moment thing for you? What if you only saw him as a tool to get yourself off?
“Would it be weird if I came down there?” You asked, startling Loki out of his thoughts. There you went again, calming his anxieties before he even had the chance to feel them.
A relieved grin broke out on his face, and his heart sped up again in excitement. “No, I would very much enjoy that.” And for the first time in a very long time, Loki felt wanted.
247 notes · View notes
Pietro: Awkward sibling hug?
Wanda: Awkward sibling hug.
[Pietro and Wanda hug]
Pietro and Wanda: Pat. Pat.
197 notes · View notes
Yelena: You’re not going to win this time!
Natasha: Interesting theory. Let me propose an alternative one: I am going to win this time.
Natasha: And this is a theory I have built up from the following facts;
Natasha: One- I win every time.
Natasha: Two- This is a time.
Natasha: Three- I will win.
196 notes · View notes
what if...thor were an only child?
he’s a lughead, sure, and far from the brightest crayon in the box.
157 notes · View notes
marvel's what if episode about what if the mcu took place in medieval times, and iron man is just a knight in plate armour
132 notes · View notes
bucky waits for steve after baseball practice and they walk home together💞
162 notes · View notes
i know darcy and howard the duck was a joke but they really gave a human/duck wedding before a gay relationship i hate marvel
the way I actually have no words
75 notes · View notes
Y/n: Baby, have I ever told you that you cook well?
Natasha: Aw, no you haven't!
Y/n: So why do you keep cooking
215 notes · View notes
Tony: Y/N, for the hundredth time, you are not Morgan's Godparent.
Y/N: Yes, I am, for the hundred and first time.
134 notes · View notes
He said: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
120 notes · View notes
Perhaps this is jester-like behavior, but I noticed during the coffee date scene in ep 2, Mobius’ cup is orange, which draws the eye over to the orange printed logo on Loki’s jacket. Whereas Loki’s cup looks to be gray, drawing the eye to Mobius’ hair. Do you think this could be an intentional detail meant to subconsciously connect the two characters or am I over analyzing? (Sorry I just love little prop details like this)
I think — since there’re a lot of connections/parallels between Mobius and Loki — the cups one may actually be done on purpose, too.
I mean… I would’ve thought this was just some coincidence, obviously they were just cups, hadn’t we been shown all these little details/parallels throughout the show:
Loki said, “love is a dagger,”
Mobius was the one who gave Loki daggers.
And here we have these cuties wearing matching outfits. Of course these were TVA uniforms, so maybe it meant nothing. But notice Loki’s tie was a darker shade of brown which matched Mobius’s jacket while Mobius’s tie is a lighter shade, which matched Loki’s jacket?
Maybe it was just another coincidence, but maybe it wasn’t.
Let’s move on to “I’m gonna burn this place to the ground” parallels. I am 100% sure Mobius’s line when he told Loki he was gonna “burn it to the ground” after Loki asked him what he was gonna do with the TVA is definitely a connection to the line where Loki told him he was gonna burn the TVA to the ground.
Then, last but not least, this one is probably my favorite but also it’s probably the most painful one; Loki asked Mobius “Who are you?” When they first met. That’s the beginning of their relationship. Then it ended in Mobius asking Loki the exact same question.
I’m living for these little details. Though there are probably more I failed to mention or haven’t noticed yet. If you have anything more, feel free to add to the list!
94 notes · View notes
Spinning my head around
Previously: Oh, what a night, ‘Cause I remember, Never gonna be the same, Like a rolling bolt of thunder, Seemed so wrong, I got a funny feeling
Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; drugging, fingering, loss of virginity, creampie, blood, blowjob, violence/torture, oral, just Brock being overall awful, object insertion, cumplay, humiliation.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. It features Brock Rumlow. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Synopsis: Just when you think things can’t get worse, they do.
Note: I have attached relevant warnings and I wan’t to reiterate to those who have complained to please heed them. I know this is on the darker end of the spectrum.
Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya.
The job hunt is never easy but knowing that the years you spent flitting around the city from one resident home to the next came to nothing makes it harder. Freida wouldn't give you a reference although you manage to get one out of the admin at Mornington. Still, it isn’t good to not have a good word from a place you spent almost three years with.
It makes Brock's visits no less stressful. The hours hunched over scrolling through postings and sending out resumes puts a crick in your neck that adds to the tension already wracking your body. The first week and a half passes and it's all rejections or no response at all. Even from your sister who is now MIA since you asked for the 200 you lent her last month.
There's one invitation at the start of your third week of unemployment. You have a virtual interview for noon. It's short notice but you put on some makeup and nice clothes. Your nose is pretty much healed so you feel decent.
You sit in front of your old laptop and pray it doesn't overheat. You sign on and the window buffers. The call begins and you do your best to hold a smile. It's a data entry job, you're sure you can get it. You're also sure you'll hate it.
"So, your job before, you worked as a recreational aide, why the sudden change?" The man, Caleb, asks.
"I really enjoyed it but I'm looking for something for the long term. Moving around the city was hard so staying in one place--"
There's a sudden hammering at the door and you freeze, stalk straight in your chair. You laugh nervously.
The banging comes again and Brock calls through, "sweetheart, open up!"
"I'm sorry, just excuse me a second," you mute the computer and get up to answer the door.
Brock pushes through as you turn the handle and you hit the wall with your back. You grab his arm and he spins at you in angry shock.
"What are you doing?" He snaps.
"I have an interview right now," you hiss, “please, just let me finish it. I need this job--"
"Shut up," he shoves you so your head hits the doorframe of the kitchen.
"Please, just wait for me in the bedroom, I'm almost done," you beg.
"Do you think you tell me what to do?" he snarls and slams the door.
"No, no, I'm not--" he backhands you and you stumble away.
He marches in and drops the duffle in his other hand on the chair. He looks around and goes to the folding table where you've set up your computer. He flips a bird to the camera and snaps the laptop in half, tossing it on the floor.
"No!" You rush forward, "what the-- that's-- I need that. I needed that job."
"You shut the fuck up before I mess up your face again," he growls, "not that I mind fucking you from behind."
You sniff and try not to blubber as you bend to examine your destroyed computer. You had that since uni and it was more resilient than all the cheap phones you'd cracked over the years. You fall into the chair and cradle your head.
"Don't you understand?" You babble, "I'm gonna lose my apartment and everything I have. I know you don't care but I'm going to be on the street by next month."
"Well shit," he chuckles, "don't be so dramatic."
"You just broke my computer. That means I can't apply to job, I can't do interviews, I can't--"
"Calm down, sweetheart, you're getting on my nerves," he kicks the chair so you look up at him. He crosses his arms as he watches you, "fine, crash on my couch."
"What?" You frown.
"Yeah, why not? Won't have to hang around here. That bed's tiny anyway," he bites his thumb and pivots on his heel as he thinks, "you can bring one bag. I don't like clutter."
"Wh-- I don't wanna live with you," you pout.
"Well that's too fucking bad, isnt it?" He drops his arms and rubs the front of his pants, "but by all means, go live on the curb."
You frown and say nothing. He pushes down his zipper and pushes it apart.
"Sweetheart, that's a pretty nice offer," he says, "so why don't you say thank you?"
You realise he really doesn't care. He only knows it'll be easier to get to you if you're not living on the street. He just wants to get off and it doesn't matter how.
You get up and near him. He grabs your head and frames your chin as he tilts your head up and pulls you against him.
"Look at you all dolled up," he smears your lipstick with his thumb, "but you talk to me like that again and I'll break your fucking jaw." You bat your eyes and he lets you go roughly, "go on."
You close your eyes and get down on your knees. Your lashes flutter and you grab the front of his pants and watch your hands as you pull them down with his boxers. When did you become so numb? Not long ago, you would hardly be able to look at a naked man, now it was second nature.
You wrap your fingers around him and stroke him as you press your lips to his tip. You take him in your mouth an inch at a time. Halfway down his shaft, he grumples and shoves all the way down your throat as your hand slaps against his pelvis.
"Don't fuck around," he warns as he grips your head between his large hands, threatening to crush your skull as he moves you along his length.
Spit bubbles around your lips and your lipstick stains his flesh as the mascara stings your runny eyes. He ignores all struggles as he fucks your throat ragged. You feel his muscles tauten as you gag and he pulls out in a single motion.
He holds the back of your head and presses his tip to your cheek as he strokes himself with wild moans. His cum ribbons across your face hotly and he coaxes himself through his climax. He lets go and you fall back on the heels of your hand.
You reach up to wipe away the slimy mess and he snaps his fingers, "no." He points at you, "I'm going to cum over every inch of you and you're going to wear it proudly." He swipes his shirt off, "get those tits out. Now."
It was one thing to be at Brock's for the fleeting if torturous visits, it was another altogether to be stuck there. Your single bag of possessions reminded you of all you left behind. Sure, the furniture was used and much of your things were mindless clutter but it was something.
He was never very talkative and his directive was all of one sentence telling you to stay out of his room when he was gone. Then he handed you a list in his cramped writing, all caps, of chores to be done. He didn't have to explain, you knew.
You begin with the dishes. There are few and you don't mind having something to keep you busy. You hear Brock in the next room, the metallic click and slide as he cleans several guns with careful attention.
You wipe the counters and rinse your hands. You take out the mop and start on the floor and as you care it back to the closet, Brock snaps his fingers. You look over at him as you close the door and step into the dining room. His apartment is big even if unwelcoming.
"My favourite," he holds up a long barrel handgun.
"It's nice," you say as you near the table.
"Oh, you know a lot about guns?" He scoffs.
"No," you admit.
He chuckles and taps the table with the muzzle, "bend over, sweetheart."
You don't hesitate even as your nerves flutter. Outwardly you obey but on the inside you feel as if you're spinning. He stands as you fold your arms under your chest and hang your head.
He presses his crotch to your ass as he reaches to unbutton your fly and pushes the fly open. He parts and grips the back of your pants, his fingers curling around your panties. He tugs them to your ankles as you wince.
His hand spreads across your neck and he leans his weight on you until you pull your arms out from beneath you and your chest is pressed to the table. He pins you there, the wood cool against your cheek as you shiver.
The metal nose of the gun pokes between your thighs and he urges your legs apart as far as they can go. You suck in your breath as he traces a line up one thigh and down the other. You tense as he brings the barrel against your cunt and rubs it between your folds.
"Mmm," he purrs as his hand slips back and he kneels behind you, his grasp at the small of your back, "a nice gun, huh?"
"Yes," you answer as you close your eyes, humiliation searing your skin.
"That's what you said, 'it's nice'," he mocks, "you know so much, don't you?"
You don't argue, you know that only makes it worse. You already said too much. "Yes," the singular symbol is the only answer he accepts.
"Hmmm," he wiggles the gun against your clit and you bite your lip, "I'm not disagreeing, it's very…" he pauses as he pulls the gun back and presses the barrel against your cunt, "nice."
He pushes until you stretch around the muzzle and he slips it into you decisively. He bottoms out at the grip. You clench around it and whimper. For as much as he's done, you've never felt so rotten and used.
He eases it out and shoves it back in. He fucks you with it as he gropes your ass with his free hand. You shudder and hide your face in your hands. He has you wet and wanting and your body's response makes you want to cry. You didn't want any of it yet your core lights at his touch.
"Taking it like a good girl," he takes the gun out as stands, "but you made fucking mess of my gun."
You shake your head as he places the gun down on the table and holds your hips as he pulls you back. You keep yourself up on your elbows. He fumbles behind you and you flinch as he presses against your cunt, filling you quickly as his pelvis hits your ass.
"Cleaning up like a good girl," he snarls as his zipper bites into you with each thrust, "sweet thing, taking your orders so good."
You huff and ball your hands as you stare at the rippled wood of the table as it knocks against the wall with each tilt of his hips. The rhythmic thump fills the air with his groans and your pained murmurs.
"Fuck," he growls and rams into as deep as he can.
He quakes as he cums and you feel the warm flow inside of you. He sighs and stays inside of you a moment as your walls twitch. He slaps your ass and slides out as his cum spills down your thighs.
You hear his zipper and as you stand, he grabs your jeans and panties and tears the back up your legs. He nearly takes you off your feet and as he lets go, you turn to him as you feel the dampness pool in the cotton.
"Back to work," he snaps his fingers and points you away from him.
You turn without argument and go back to the kitchen. It gives you a moment to catch your breath, a moment for reality to sink in. This is your existence now, nothing more. It definitely isn't living.
You lay alone on the stiff leather couch. Your blanket and pillow do little against the cold that clings to the cushions. You can't get comfortable even with Brock gone, called away on another cryptic phone call.
It takes some time to get in a good position but after a day of cleaning and wired nerves, you're exhausted enough to fall asleep. You doze heavily and make it through the night floating in the last dregs of sleep as the click of the door awakens you.
You hear footsteps in the entryway, more than one pair, and the voices answer your drowsy questions.
"Got pretty fuckin' close," Brock snarls, he's not happy, but when is he ever?
"Don't worry, I can handle Sam," Steve repliez, you don't expect him to be around.
Your lashes bat away as you yawn and listen paralysed to the conversation. The two don't seem to get along, more reluctant allies. You grasp the blanket and blink at the ceiling as you hear them come into the front room.
"He's stubborn but I can flip him," Steve insists.
Brock grumbles unconvinced.
"Don't," Steve warns, "he's better to us alive."
You hear footsteps approach and look up at Brock as he lurks behind the couch. He glares at you and snaps his fingers, "coffee."
Your eyes round and you hesitate a moment before your body reconnects to your mind. You kick away the blanket and sit up, suddenly aware how your shorts have ridden up in your sleep. You pull them straight and stand to quickly fold the quilt over the back of the couch.
"Morning, sunshine," Steve says with a smile.
"Coffee," Brock repeats impatiently.
"Yes," you croak through your gristly throat.
You pass Steve as he allows little room for it and you sense his gaze as it scours you. Your tee shirt hangs loosely but cannot hide that you have no bra. You feel like an utter disaster. A pathetic creature scurrying at her master's demands.
"You mind if I have some too?" Steve asks, "since I'll be here a while."
"I don't care," Brock says and you hear his boots scrape the ground as the boxy leather chair squeaks under his weight.
Lighter footsteps move around and load up the coffee maker. It's nicer than your old one and Brock buys a dark gourmet blend. His tastes surprise you sometimes as his attention to detail is concealed by his outward shows of apathy.
"So, living together?" Steve prompts.
"Don't you worry about her," Brock warns.
"I know you're not much for small talk but come on," Steve chides.
"I don't ask about who you're fucking," Brock rebuffs, "so why are you so concerned with her?"
"Concerned?" Steve laughs, "you seem more concerned than me."
"She's… crashing for a while," Brock says as you strain to hear past the grind, "nothing serious like all that."
You don't expect anything more than that and somehow the fact that he speaks of you as a burden makes you frown. You lose track of their conversation, more pointed words, double-edged but short.
You pour two mugs as the coffee finishes brewing and take them out to the men. You offer milk and sugar, only Steve accepts. You cross your arms and hover at the edge of the room as they drink.
"So," Steve looks over at you as he sits in the middle of the couch, "how are you? How's work been?"
"Don't talk to her," Brock snaps, "you're not here to socialize. Let's get this shit over with."
Brock puts down his mug and takes out his phone. He puts it on the table and snaps his fingers.
"Get my bag," he orders.
You grab his leather bag and bring it to him. He smacks your ass before you can retreat and your eyes meet Steve's as you sidle away. His gaze wanders down your body and he lifts his brows before looking at Brock.
Brock takes out a tablet and unlocks it with his fingerprint. You see a green on black floorplan on the screen as you glance over.
"Go to the room," Brock says without taking his eyes from the tablet, "this is business."
"Yes," you say and skirt around the back of the couch.
"Good seeing ya," Steve calls after you but you don't reply. "She's… quiet. Good listener."
"What's with you and the girl? You don't have enough sluts wanting to get up on you, Cap?" Brock snarls.
"I'm being nice," Steve says, "you could try it some time."
"I'm plenty nice to her," Brock snickers, "trust me, she doesn't mind what I do to her."
"Mmm," Steve hums uneasily, "thought you didn't wanna talk about her?"
"But you do, huh?" Brock challenges him as you hide behind the door but keep it from closing as you listen. "Are we here to work or did you want me to describe how tight her cunt is?"
"Jesus," Steve blew out a sigh, "you don't have to be so crude."
"Listen, Rogers, the golden boy act doesn't work on me, I'm the only one who knows what lies beneath that bullshit," Brock growls, "I saw you looking at her."
"Am I supposed to stare at the wall?" Steve snaps.
"Better than her ass," Brocks chirps, "now stop wasting my time."
Steve grumbles and you close the door, careful not to make a noise. You don't want to push it. You've heard enough to leave you restless.
You wonder what Brock means about Steve. Maybe nothing at all but you just can't shake the prickly feeling along your neck.
Brock is terrible but he is honest about it, yet Steve, there's something off about him, something you just can't place. All you know is that whatever business he's here to chat about with Brock is less than savoury and you're already in too deep. Better to not think, easier too.
90 notes · View notes
once again thinking about how x men future past served so fucking hard and managed to handle not only killer robots but also time travel better in one movie than the mcu could in two
64 notes · View notes
hold me while we wait
Summary: Y/N just went through a break-up and has been locked in her bedroom in her shared apartment with Yelena Belova. But Lena has let her be alone for two days now and decided it was time for her to comfort her friend in her own way.
Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader
Theme: Fluff / Moderate Angst
Word Count: 1.5k
Warning(s): Mentions of break-up | Hurt
Author's Note: Had this kind of planned/drafted for awhile, decided to finish it tonight cause I couldn't look at it any longer.
It was a universal thing to grieve after going through a break-up, the five stages of grief were inevitable. Everyone went through it, some worse than others, and you were certainly on the latter end of that. After your fight with Wanda, resulting in substantially one of the worst break-ups you’ve had, you’d locked the door to your bedroom and threw yourself on the bed. Yelena had tried to pull you aside, being a worried best friend above a roommate, but you only shrugged her off and told her you need some time alone.
A few hours locked away turned into a full night, then into a day, and another. Every so often Yelena would saunter past your door, glancing at the doorknob and hesitating to push it open. A flaw or not, she wasn’t generally one to knock, but she knew how upset you were and didn’t want to probe you past your breaking point- as if you hadn’t already hit it.
But her patience had quickly worn thin when the third day of you hurting in silence had begun. She’d left food outside your door occasionally, even bringing home leftovers when Natasha dragged her out of the apartment instead of letting her worry about you. You were thankful for that, not wanting your best friend to be standing around waiting for you to come out of your hovel. Yelena had done her best to respect that, waiting for you to come to her, but tonight she’d had enough. She wanted to make sure you were okay, alive at that, but above all she missed you.
“Come on, Y/N, open the door,” her knuckles wrapped against the wooden door, inciting a groan from you at the interruption of your pity party. Her accent was thick, and you knew by her tone that she wasn’t exactly leaving you room to argue. When the knock didn’t bring her the answer she wanted you were greeted to your door swinging open and an impatient blonde standing in the doorframe, arms folded firm to her chest.
Your head tilted, pressing your cheek against the pillow as your eyes tracked over her figure, tearing your vision away from staring longingly at the ceiling. Her brows were furrowed momentarily before one of them arched in silent question. She wasn't necessarily acting cold, but she also wasn’t going to baby you, especially due to the fact you probably had not left your bed within the last 48 hours. You lifted a hand, gesturing over her appearance, “Do you ever take that thing off?”
Yelena tucked her chin, looking down with a hidden pout as her eyes scanned over the army green vest. This time her brows furrowed, leaving to admire the frustrated crease as she huffed out in frustration. “I like it okay,” she muttered, her fingers playing across the zippers, “it has a lot of pockets.”
You rose both of your brows simultaneously, a half strewn smile breaking across your lips for the first time in days. A breath of a laugh fell softly from your nose as your head turned to avert your gaze back up to the ceiling. The silence that overtook the room brought you a sense of comfort as you felt the blonde’s eyes scanning over you vicariously. She was obviously concerned for your well-being and you appreciated that, but you wanted nothing more than to continue to mope in your own company.
“Lena, why are you in here?” a sigh fell from your chest, still keeping your eyes focused to the fan spinning slowly above you. When you didn’t receive an answer, you turned your glance away from the fan and back to your best friend. You pulled a noticeably confused expression as she approached you, watching her climb onto the opposite side of the bed from you and throw her legs atop the mattress. She was rather silent about it, resting her hands on her abdomen as her breathing leveled laying beside you. “Lena-”
“If you’re not leaving this room still, I’m staying here with you,” the words came out slowly, almost drowsy as she settled into her spot beside you. A hint of a smirk grew at the corner of her lips when she felt your hardened glare land on her. If there was only one thing that frustrated you about Yelena Belova it was her pure stubbornness, but most of the time the care she held for those around her was a consolation for that.
“Lena-” you sighed out, her name barely audible as your eyes studied over her features. The smirk once there now ebbing away as she tilted her cheek to meet your stare with an arched brow, strands of stray blonde sticking out across her forehead. Her eyes were soft, much softer than they had been when she’d just confronted you a moment ago, specks of blue still visible in the dark lighting of your room. “You don’t have to do this.”
Yelena matched your sigh, pulling one of her hands away from her abdomen, taking you by surprise when her fingers laced through your hair. The touch made the emotion you’d swallowed, bubble back up into your chest. You never were generally one to be so taken aback or infatuated with touch, but right now you were deprived. Her contact was minimal, but enough for you to finally shut your eyes in an attempt to dissuade any tears. The sensation of her playing through the y/h/c strands, her fingernails scratching gently against your scalp, made you gradually untense. A shaky breath expelled from between your lips before you spoke, “I cared about her, Lena…”
The blonde’s resolve softened further, the fingers she had previously entangled into your hair abandoning their task. You couldn’t deny the whimper that escaped her throat, making your roommate laugh sheepishly. Before you could cast her a glance of disapproval, you felt that same arm wrapping around your far shoulder, immediately feeling yourself being pulled flush against her side. You wanted to shrug back, knowing that this was only going to compel the emotions you were concealing to come loose, but you didn’t. Instead, you fell into her hold, clamping your eyes shut as a mix of her sweat and perfume ran past your nose. “You could’ve at least showered after training,” you muttered, burying your face into the soft muscle of her shoulder.
A throaty laugh played out of Yelena’s throat, her other hand reaching over to pinch your hip playfully. You yelped at the faint tickle that ran up your side, immediately firing back a jab into Yelena’s rib cage that made her laughter only grow. The laughter coming from both of you only increased, still keeping yourself flush against your best friend, until you started to come apart like every cliche film. Your breathless laps turned into sharp sobs, and the tears caused from laughter turned into those of hurt.
She caught wind of the change, bringing you impossibly close against her as gentle sounds of ‘sh’ left her lips. Your chin tilted, burying your face back into the pit of her shoulder. At first you thought about pulling back, not subjecting Yelena to this, until her thumb began to rub your shoulder reassuringly, and her cheek pressed against your forehead. “I got you,” she muttered, her breath washing across your ear as she spoke, making you cling to her further. You craved touch far more than ever before, and to have it for someone that cared for you the way she did set your skin on fire.
The weight of her cheek shifted against your forehead, moving to rest it on the crown of your head. You heard her draw in a breath, feeling the coolness of the inhale against your scalp, bringing you another unknown sense of comfort. Her thumb continued its soft motion along your shoulder, closing her eyes along with you as you both laid in the silence of the room. Over time your breathing slowly began to settle, your other arm at some point having moved to drape across Yelena’s stomach and tugging her closer along with you. She didn’t object, or pull back, at any point in time, keeping her body positioned in whichever way brought you comfort.
“I got you,” the softness in her accent made any hurt seem to dissipate, in the comfort of your best friend’s arms you felt at peace. Even if it was only going to last for a few hours, you let yourself fall into it. Within another few minutes you were falling asleep against her, Yelena looking down past her cheeks to watch your eyes twitch underneath your eyelids in a deep sleep. But she didn’t dare to move.
She said she had you, and she did, and she stayed with you like that for the rest of the night. No prying, no talking, nothing more than physical comfort from someone you trusted.
142 notes · View notes
Bucky: *Complaining about not being allowed to wear jeans to a party*
Bucky: That guy right there is in jeans!
Sam: Bucky, that is a child.
177 notes · View notes