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jamneuromain · 7 months

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Revenge Oh So Sweet

Steve Rogers x You (Agent!Reader)

Warning: Revenge (sort of), dick pics, bad language word, fluff? Clintasha if you squint.

Summary: For once, you decide not to put up with this shit anymore.

A/N: Based on the prompt from the bingo challenge. The inspiration came from @rogerswifesblog / @rogerswifesblog-updates (a big smoochie) and my recent experience, there's another experience under the tag #why I hate men. So ... yeah, you get the gist.

Your life-long happiness seems to have been a mutual concern of every Avenger in the compound.

After two not-so-successful relationships and another couple of failed dates, everyone is eager to share their experience or their suggestions as to what could help you find a partner.

"Be yourself." Tony commented on your love life when he accidentally overheard you girls talking in the kitchen, "Trust me, that's how I got Pepper." He said with a smug smile on his face.

Natasha rolled her eyes as Maria tugged the corner of her lips and made a rude - you considered it not so rude, but Tony jumped and felt offended - face.

"Come on, Stark." Natasha huffed out, "That's because Pepper is loyal and devoted. And you can't live without her."

Wanda stayed quiet but nodded like a chicken pecking the grains right in front of her.

"I can introduce the guy working for the IT, nerd, but... cute." Natasha fished out the Instagram of said guy.

Tony grumbled something under his breath as he headed out.

And it was not long before almost everyone on the Avengers team started to give you advices on how to secure a partner/date.

You were nursing over a bucket of chocolate ice cream, your standard medication for sorrows of "not being able to find a boyfriend" the other day when Thor's voice boomed by your ear, "... I am SURE Asgardian warriors would be kneeling at your feet if you could swing the battle sword during a fight."

He smelt like Asgardian mead.

"Thanks, Thor." You appreciated his effort, nonetheless, raising your ice cream bucket for a gestural toast.

Tony snorted at the end of the coffee table, probably having way too much caffeine than he should, and patted Thor on his bicep, "She needs a boyfriend, Point Break, not becoming Arnold Schwarzenegger."

Clint plopped down next to you on the couch, nudging you with his shoulder, gathering your attention, and asked, "Look, why don't you just kidnap some hot dude? That's what Nat almost- HEY!"

He yelled when Natasha threw a couch pillow in his direction, hitting him square in the chest, succesfully shutting him up.

Clint shrugged and gave you a glimpse of sympathy, which you were 99% sure he meant "Sorry kiddo". He shrunk to the corner of the couch, taking a swing of his beer.

"Why not try meeting someone with mutual interest?" Steve carefully pitches his suggestion, he looks at you with a hint of thought, "Like finding someone who shares the same passion over some exercises in the gym."

"Except I'm not a big fan of gyms." You pouted slightly, "But yeah, I guess book clubs and stuff... could work?"

"Gym." Bucky sniggered without even trying to mask his amusement, "Such a Steve thing." After receiving a warning glare from Steve, Bucky moved slightly away from his best pal, and singsongingly added, "I'm sure a candidate is much closer than you'd think."

Sam shook his head. Leaning on the counter of the kitchen, Sam proposed his idea with much delicacy to you, chuckling, "Steve might have a point. You know, maybe get to know your coworker better." Sam said this almost suggestively, a knowing smirk lingering on his lips, "After all, we never frown upon office romance. Not a bad idea to date your coworker as long as they are nice decent people, while you get to have fun."

"Surely redhead is neither nice nor decent." Bucky pointed his finger towards Nat on the far-end chair, whispering loudly.

"Don't get me breaking all your fingers, Barnes. And I'm not only talking about the ones on your right hand." Natasha retorted back, looking as if she was ready to bicker with Bucky again.

Vision, on the other hand, was not comfortable with processing a large conversation with so many participants even though he was able to identify every one of them. However, it was customary for everyone to join the conversation, no matter how they contributed to it. After doing some research in his head, Vision spoke up with confidence, "May I suggest a less time-consuming approach?"

This certainly drew the attention of most people in the room as Rhodey walked in.

"I have been analyzing the data of Miss Y/L/N, and I have come up with a list of results. It is a list of possible partners of Miss Y/L/N." Vision gave some time for this information to sink in before starting the list, "On top of the list, data run came back with a 99.7% matching rate to a book named-"

"A book?" Tony almost sprang from his seat, "HOLD ON. Hold on, for a minute here." He raised his index finger shushing everyone in the room, "What's the book?"

After hearing his question, the room fell into a unison of grumbles. "Seriously Tony?" "You're interested in that book? There's something wrong with..." "Ask him to take another look at the data for Christ's sake-"

Tony rolled his eyes in the most elegant way, "Fine. Vision, would you please erase all lifeless forms of matching in your database and focus on possible 'human' partners?"

A few seconds gone with Vision processing the data in silence, before speaking up, "I have now entered the condition of 'human partner', and the first person with a 99.4% matching rate is Andy Barber, lawyer-"

Gasps and murmurs swirled over the room again.

"...he lives in Newton, Boston, Massachusetts. According to data, he is married to Laurie Barber. Being the leading character of the crime fiction Defending Jacob-"

You would prefer to be drowned in your chocolate ice cream than to have Vision pairing you with a fictional character - even if it's a fictional character that is played by a very handsome actor in the TV series.

That you probably watched more than a dozen times. But still! Fictional!

Rhodey murmured to Tony: "And that's why we still wouldn't apply AI to our weaponary program..."

You groaned in agony, "Vision, I adore you, really. But I really need you to stop-"

"Ya-Da-Ya-Da-Ya-Da-" Tony cut through your sentence, "Vision, no fictional characters, we need real men-"

"Or woman." Wanda squeaked, clearly more amused than everyone else in this room.

"Or woman. Thank you, ponytail," Tony cleared his throat, "Someone who is actually living on the planet right now-"

"Recalculating. Ari Levinson Kidron, former Mossad agent. He is 99.3% compatible. He was renowned for Israel's Operation Moses and Operation Joshua from 1984 to1985."

"Eighties?" Bucky chimed in with mischief sparkling in his eyes, "How old is he?"

"He is currently 78 years old. A movie based on him was released in 2019, starring an actor named Christopher Robert Evans." Vision replied, "Your Netflix history clearly shows a tendency toward strong powerful men with romantic gestures during dating."

You buried your head as deep as the ice cream bucket allowed, "Please, Vision, I'm begging you. Don't leak anymore of my browsing history before I decide to jump into the Hudson River."

Wanda shook her head lightly at Vision, the latter seemed to gain a hint of realization after a while, "Sorry. I have been intrusive. My deepest apologies, Miss. Y/L/N."

You waved your hand in the air to indicate "all is well", but your eyes were still staring into the brown-ish ice cream, which had started to melt.

Shit.

Wanda scooted closer to you, holding her phone in front of your face, she seemed optimistic about what had just happened (even though you were devastated and actually considering being single for the rest of your life).

"What about dating apps?" She showed you a few, swiping men's profiles for you to see, "It's definitely simpler than asking some random people. You can also tell them at the start that you are looking for serious relationships, rather than sex."

Actually, that sounded...

"Thank you, Wanda." You shot her an appreciatiating look.

That sounded like the most solid suggestion anyone has ever made. Especially with the match-making plan of Natasha and the nerdy guy didn't work out, you were willing to try Tinder. Or something similar.

Wanda gave you an encouraging smile, before hugging you on the shoulder and helping you start your own profile on some app. While Sam half-dragged Steve out of the living room, mumbling something about "bats".

After a couple dozen men who wanted "something casual, sorry" and a disastrous night, you scrolled through your dating app to see if anyone has messaged you last night.

You were on an all-nighter mission with your teammates. Due to an unfortunate incident, you had to chase the criminal for about twelve blocks. On foot.

Just got your phone back from your locker, you sagged down on one of the empty chairs by the mission dispatch center, and scrolled through your dating app.

Daveid757: Hi.

You clicked on his profile picture.

"Daveid" is a decent-looking guy with a thin beard and hazel-brown eyes. Tall and broad-shouldered, he held a few 10-foot-long fish in half of his pictures and his different fishing rods in the rest.

Not bad, at least.

You returned to the chatting screen.

[Daveid757 typing]

You should probably say hi back.

Daveid757 stopped typing.

And the next thing you know, a dick pic that took up almost half of your phone screen attacked you right in the face.

A dick.

A at-first-sight-it-was-five-inch-but-some-skin-and creases-are-repetitive-so-it-was-at-most-a-two-inch dick.

A naked dick and his naked thigh.

A tiny but photoshopped dick.

You began to wonder what should you reply at this point.

You sure it's not two inches? No. Basically harmless to a guy who sends dick pics.

Fuck off you prick. No. That came off too strong.

How about I've seen bigger? That could probably trigger his competitiveness, though. You were hoping for something that could make him as furious as how you felt when you received his dick pic.

The sickness of getting a genitalia photo, the rage of being disrespected by men, the grumpiness from your staying up all night, and the frustration of knowing that the "dating app" method was a bust, all united as one .

Although you knew your blood was boiling from all four emotions, they were helpful too, enlightening you with a brilliant idea.

You should get a Nobel Peace Prize for it.

You searched "dick" and selected a dick pic that looked significantly larger and thicker than the one Daveid sent you.

Your dick pic is smooth and pink, clean-shaven, and with a man's hand gripping the foreskin, revealing the angry red tip.

This one looked much better than his.

You looked at this dick pic fondly.

And sent it to him.

Daveid757: You fucking crazy motherfucker.

Daveid757 has blocked you.

His profile picture turned grey, just like the type of picture people will put in front of his casket during his funeral.

Out of nowhere, a surge of euphoria washed over you. Having you doing your best to maintain a calm presence. You try your best not to smirk or giggle, trying your best to keep your lips between your teeth, biting the inside of your mouth from hollering out laughter.

Yeah, you definitely like "your" dick pic better.

While the two dick pics stayed on your screen.

Peacefully. Paying each other respect.

"Hey Y/N," holding his first cup of coffee in hand, Steve emerged behind you in his full tactical suit. He still had an hour before his mission and he decided not to board the jet without a healthy caffeine dose at 5:32 am. He saw you from the break room across the hall, and he just had to say hello to you.

Professional. This is purely professional courtesy!

You seemed undisturbed, gazing into your phone, with a smile ghosting your lips.

Naturally, Steve trotted near, earning a peek to your phone - he didn't intend to be sneaky about it, he only wanted to know what was mesmerizing you - while sipping down some hot hot burning lava hot coffee and -

You're looking at dicks???

"Oh my - Steve! Are you alright?" Shoving your phone into your pocket, you found some Kleenex in your bag and put it into Steve's hand. He choked and coughed violently, whole face flushed red as he waved his hand, stepping away from you, continuing coughing his lungs out.

You were struggling to understand whether he means "No, I'm not alright" or "No, I don't need the Kleenex" or "No, everything is alright". Though you didn't know how the last one worked the way inside your head.

Steve calmed himself after coughing into his palms some more. Shaking his head but accepting your tissue paper: "Yeah I'm - EHEM - 'm fine." Dabbing his suit which now has coffee splatters over his chest, he muttered an almost inaudible "Thank you".

He didn't look you right in the eyes when he was busy cleaning up his mess, but he felt like he had to when he should talk to you about workplace ethics. He finally looked up from the ground with his baby blue orbs, and tried to sound serious with his ears and cheeks blushing: "Y/N, I'm not ... " he winced, "You know I'm not that type of person who ummm... tries to dictate what others do or don't."

"Like Tony?" You scoffed, but the scoff was more directed to Tony rather than Steve. God, you should know better than to let Tony participate in your love life, giving out advices.

Steve manages a smile witth difficulty, "I'm not, but ... I don't ... I would consider ... I uh - I believe genital photos are not workplace appropriate."

You choked out a laugh, fishing your phone from your pocket and showing him, "What, this?"

"God, please, Y/N." He blocked your screen with his leather-gloved hand, becoming visibly more nervous, blurting out but his tone appears to be more begging than commanding, "Not ... here!"

You giggled. The few hours of sleep you had while you were on the plane back from the mission had led you to an unstable mindset. It would be completely insane for the "normal" you to show Steve Rogers, a work fellow, dick pics. But right now? With all those emotions boiling down your veins, the lack of sleep (and apparently, the lack of clear sense) and the sudden euphoria of making Steve nervous, you were feeling bold. Audacious. Felt like you could conquer the world and slam a monster silicone dildo right onto Daveid's face.

So you apologized, though not with much sincerity, and told Steve why you were "watching dick pics" on your phone in your workplace.

"He started it!" After accusing Daveid of sending you dick pics, you whined like a grumpy child, which you definitely wouldn't, if you were not sleep-deprived, but Steve felt like the most trustworthy male person on the planet at that moment, so you spilt your guts and tried to excuse yourself out of the workplace ethics violation that Steve nearly had you reported to HR.

He almost would never. Report you to the HR. But he kept that to himself.

"And it's not my dick. I suppose it's not entirely my fault?"

Steve chuckled soundlessly. It was in fact, adorable for you trying and whining, "Even if it is your dick, you don't send him that until you're out of the compound, okay?"

"I don't have a dick!" You huffed out in a hush voice. Seeing his typical look, the look with the raising eyebrows that says "yes, and-", you put up your hands in defeat, "Okay-Okay. You have a point. No dick pics."

"More like no dating apps scrolling while you're at workplace, just in case." Steve was amused. He thought for a while before making amends, "Tell you what, there's a nice little place in Brooklyn. You free tonight at 7? I'll wine and dine you, and you can tell me about all the awful macho men you've encountered. Promise, no judging."

He looks at you, almost sympathetically, with his crystal blue eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat.

You lowered your head, pretending you need to find your bag before summoning up the courage and shrugging, playing it cool, "Deal, Captain. Be ready for some of the worst men you've ever heard of."

After some most amazing medium rare steak and two glasses of fine-aged red, you were beyond caring (about your little crush of the handsome blonde sitting across you) and exchanged laughs and giggles that were definitely way too loud for a decent date.

You attracted attention, being the most stunning couple in the restaurant (so the "couple" word maybe a little too "ouchy" for you, since you normally spent time admiring Steve from afar), and some glances from other customers were casually thrown this way.

You had to admit, watching Steve in a brown leather jacket and jeans, triggered something inside you that encouraged you to climb him like a tree and slam your lips over his.

Steve chuckled, covering his lips with his fist, temporarily blocking his seductive (and to you, sinning) grin, "I can't believe Daveid is actually nicer among all the douches you've dated. Being a long-term friend of yours, I'd suggest you not to pick up men from dumpsters."

You cast a sour look in his direction, raising the glass to your lips, taking a small sip from the third cup of wine, "I would if I could." Your glass landed on the table with a bit too much force. Faking annoyance, you groaned at the ceiling, "Men are just ... awful."

"Touche." He murmured over his glass, clicking it with yours before downing a big gulp. Feeling bolder than usual, he looked at you right in the eyes, hoping he would convey a message, a hint, anything, "Surely ... there are a few good men out there. But, 80% of them are plain stupid, you know? You gotta ... I don't know, it's not about trying harder, I guess, but ... open to other ... options?"

You snorted, leaning back onto the comfy chair, teasing him, dipping your toes in the water for a second, "Oh, you're spoiling me and trying to get me zero dates in my future since you raised the bar too high, Captain."

He looked more jumpy and edgy after your "captain" comment. His ears and cheek turned pink under the dim yellow restaurant light, "I'm certain that you can have a boyfriend in the future that would be ... nice, to say the least. Apart from your lapse of judgment on this guy," he couldn't help but let slip of his smile, "you have some good friends and I'm sure you'll go on a date with someone better than him, someone better for your relationship, and more deserving for you."

You feigned a gasp of shock, "Are you calling yourself "better"? So competitive, Captain Rogers."

His fluster-ness drained from his face all of a sudden, slightly narrowing his eyes to focus on someone behind you, "I think - Is that ...?"

"What?" You were bewildered.

"The ass who sent you the dick pic." He shifted his focus back to you, "Your four o'clock. Black suit, Caucasian male, 5'7''. He's not looking this way but I'm positive he's the guy."

You spared a glance at him quickly. He did look like "Daveid757" and his profile pictures.

"Fucking hell." You muttered.

"You know what would make him furious? Letting him see you're having the best time of your life." Steve placed his palm on your wrist, giving you warmth and support, "Letting him know what he has missed out."

"Flip my hair and giggle?"

Your words didn't mean to be sarcastic, but they sure came out this way.

"Or we could return to the compound to suit up." Steve kindly offers, "I'll beat his ass until he learns a lady is supposed to be respected."

You drained your wine, teasing him with a dash of liquid courage, "Revenge doesn't suit you, Cap." And I don't want you to get into trouble, even if it is a tempting gesture. You swallowed the latter half of your sentence.

And of course, you had a much better plan...

"Is he looking this way now?" You moved to the seat by Steve's side, making sure Daveid could turn his head and see you with little effort. "Accidentally" having your wine class clatter with your ceramic plate, you made a loud noise for the entire restaurant to hear.

"Yeah but-"

The rest of his words fell on deaf ears, as you cupped his chin and kissed him.

His lips were soft. Grape-flavored with a bitter taste of alcohol. The kiss was sweet, tender, careful even, as he reciprocated your small nibbling, threading his fingers with the base of your hair.

Your liquid courage burnt down faster than you had imagined. Burying your face into his chest, you were rid of all the strength you had to check Daveid - or Steve, for that matter, because on second thought, using Steve to get back at Daveid wasn't such a good idea if Steve misunderstood your feelings as a method to get even with the dick pic dude -

"I hope you haven't fallen asleep, because that guy looked like he could swallow his wine glass. And he broke his plate, dragging his date to leave but - oh ho, now the waiter is asking him to pay for the plate and the wine -" Steve sounded normal, unaffected, calm. On the contrary, you wanted to jump into the Hudson River right this second for kissing Steve and wash off all the embarrassment and nervousness.

"I suppose you need to get some air and not suffocate yourself in my jacket?" He joked, patting on your back almost in a comforting way, while you were still buried into his chest, "Don't worry, the Daveid guy made a bigger scene and now he got kicked out of this place."

Your hair must be awful. The move messed up your hair, and your lipstick no doubt. And ruining your make-up. And you couldn't face Steve knowing that you kissed him and this - you are going to be a joke to the whole compound within 48 hours.

"But if you don't say another word for five seconds, I'm going to presume that you are losing consciousness and perform CPR in front of the whole restaurant."

You sat up reluctantly, wiping the outline of your lips and possible lipstick smudge without a mirror. Pouting.

"Or how about being my fake girlfriend for five minutes and we will show Daveid that we are a happy couple?" Steve observed your expression, making yet another proposal.

He was sweet. He was really sweet offering all these choices for you and your pathetic dating app experience but all you wanted was - "How about being real girlfriend." You grumbled under your breath.

"Sorry?"

"Never mind." You shook your head and decided to put this delightful dinner time behind you, "Let's -"

"You mean it?"

"Huh?"

His crystal blue eyes searched your features, searching for signs that you wanted him, wanted this, wanted you two to be a thing. It was cliche and a chance in a million, having his friend -you falling in love with him, but so were myths and superheroes. He liked his odds.

"Would you," He spoke, painfully slow, "like to be my girlfriend? Not because of revenging. But because I want it to work. Because I love you and I want to kiss you. Because you feel the same way, and finally, you can help put my misery of seeing you dating other people to a stop. I want to date you," he thought for a small while before adding, "exclusively."

The sun must be rising from the west, or the sea must be pouring back into rivers, or the dead must be alive from their graves.

A most-amazing miracle was happening.

Because the next thing you knew, you nodded and he pulled you into his warm hug.

And offered you one of his many sweet, sweet kisses.

Bonus:

You sneaked back to the compound, holding hands, grinning like fools, feeling like the first day of being in love.

You walked past the living room with Vision in the corner still knee-deep in his thoughts, calculating, or searching.

"It seemed the most fitting human candidate is Captain Steve Rogers, with a 99.2% match." The sudden voice startled you both, but Vision raised his head and greeted you, "Ah. I see that my data is no longer needed. Congratulations on finding a perfect partner, and good night, to you both."

You whispered a "Night" as Vision drifted towards his chamber.

Turning around when you noticed Steve went silent, you saw him scratching the back of his head, just a little bit annoyed.

"I rank behind a book and two fictional characters?"

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fluff #captain america fanfiction #agent!reader

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babyjackdaniels · 2 months

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bloodyknucklesforme · 1 year

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consider this- reader is pregnant and hasn’t told ghost out of fear, but tells price because she doesn’t know where else to go. task 141 shows up at a safe house together and reader is stressed enough to have a miscarriage and price knows immediately and ghost can tell.

A/N: So I changed the plot a little and I tried to do my best to portray what miscarrying is like. I've never been pregnant or had a miscarriage but I wanted to do my best. I also tried to leave it a little open-ended on whether or not the reader wants kids. I don't want kids and I live in America which is very scary right now. Full fic below the read more.

CW: Depictions of Miscarriage

Words: 1.5k

“Something is off about you,” Price said, having called you back to talk to him. He was right, you weren’t on top of things and it was getting dangerous. Covert operations in the Balkans. It was your first time back in the field after a little over a year. The scar on your abdomen still stung when you stretched too hard.

“Out of practice, Sir. I apologize.”

“If you were out of practice he wouldn’t have requested you as an asset.”

He…Ghost. Your not boyfriend.The man who used you as a human stress ball. It was non-committal, casual, physically intimate but emotionally detached. He came by when he could to fuck your brains out and then leave till next time. It wasn’t anything and right now that’s why it scared you.

“He requested me?” The last time you were in the field together he had to stop you from bleeding out. Then there was everything else that followed.

“If something happened between the two of you, I need to know.” Price held your arm to stop you walking away. Price had always been an ally. Tough but fair was him to a t. He wouldn’t rat you out, he wouldn’t betray your trust.

“uhmm..I… I’m pregnant.” It was weird to say, the words stuck in your throat like molasses.

“Why are you here, then? There are rules about this,” He whispered angrily. “Who’s the..? Bloody hell, tell me he isn’t. ”

“He is.” He didn’t even know it yet. You hadn’t actually had time alone with him since finding out. You knew you had to say something, you couldn’t hide it for long. You’d be taken out of the field again and if any superior found out you might lose your whole career.

“Since when?”

“First time was about a week after we first met, it’s been going on since then.”

“Never pictured him the domestic type.”

“He’s not.” you knew he wasn’t, you’d always known. Didn’t make it hurt less. You hadn’t decided what to do yet, hoping that maybe if you ignored it enough it just wouldn’t exist anymore.

“He doesn’t know,” Price sighed. You shook your head.

“You need to tell him. It’s your choice what you want to do and if he gives you shit either way, you tell me, but you need to choose. This was stupid of you to come out here like this.” Price’s disappointment only made your body heavier. He’d been the one who requested you the first time around. He was the reason you met Ghost and now you’ve gone and fucked that up too.

That conversation was almost a week ago and you still hadn’t told him. He’d been professional the whole time. Ignoring you mostly. He was your overwatch currently. This was almost over, you just had to make the exchange with the Russians.

It was right there, the package was in your hands. The pain started, blooming up from the bottom of your torso. It was a deep ache that made it hard to breathe. You were sweating, unable to focus. Maybe it was always going to go down this way, maybe they already knew, maybe you just looked too nervous.

Two shots, they were both dead. You barely blinked as the blood splattered across your face. There was shouting, you got up and ran. Price was barking orders. He had a car a couple blocks away. You just had to get there.

You could see it but the pain had doubled. You felt wet.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” An arm wrapped around your middle, almost lifting you over your feet. You were in the back of the car, unable to hold back whimpers.

“Is she injured?” Price asked slamming on the gas.

“I can’t find a wound.” Ghost’s hands ran over your body, lifting up clothes desperately trying to find the source of your pain.

“Fuck.” You heard Price’s hand slam on the wheel. You never told Ghost. You stuck a hand down your pants and it came back bloody. Fuck.

Ghost pulled you into his lap, wiping sweat from your brow. Stoic and silent as always. Maybe you could lie? Just a bad period, sorry lads. It wouldn’t work on Price, you knew but it would spare you from any emotion from Ghost.

“Get her in the tub!” Price yelled as Ghost carried you into the safehouse. Always the dutiful soldier, you were laid in the yellowing fiberglass. He shut the bathroom door behind you.

“What is this?” He asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to help me get my pants off.” You choked out. The two of you were in your own world now and you felt safe enough to cry. He undid everything and helped pull your jeans off, a deep red stain in the crotch. He took off a glove to stroke your hair back.

“Are you pregnant?”

“I don’t think I am anymore.” You pressed your hand against your aching muscles, begging for the pressure to stop the pain. You grabbed his arm with the other. “Simon, I’m scared.”

It was rare for you to use his name. It was a special treat for when he spent extra time between your legs. He was taking his gear off as quickly as he could. His vest falling to the floor next to your jeans. He leaned into the tub to take off your underwear. The blood was bright red. Blood didn’t bother you but you couldn’t help but look away.

You knew you were miscarrying. Your job was research and that’s what you did the moment you saw that little plus sign. You knew that 15% of pregnancies ended this way. That because it was so early that it was probably just an abnormality rather than anything you could have done. It’s just something that happens.

He climbed into the tub behind you. He bent his knees, trapping you between them. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against his chest. A wet cloth was against your forehead.

“We need to get you to hospital.” His voice wasn’t its usal cold coolness, he sounded scared too. He wasn’t supposed to be scared, he wasn’t supposed to care.

“No, I should be okay… as long as everything comes out.” You were shaking in his arms. You never told him and here he was holding you through this. You never talked. You didn’t know if he wanted kids, it had never come up. You didn’t even know.

You cried out as a contraction worked it’s way through you. His hand was rubbing a circle between your shoulder blades. Sweat, snot and drool poured from your face as you sobbed in pain.

Price came in, leaving water, painkillers and towels. He avoided looking at the two of you, just leaving everything on the counter. You would go to hospital once you were home. They’d make sure you were okay and you could pretend like this never happened.

Like the most intimate you’d ever been with him hadn’t been this moment, you miscarrying your child while he held you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your ear. “I’m so sorry.”

You weren’t sure how much time had passed. He turned on the water at one point. Lifted you out of the tub and cleaned you up. Gave you water and made sure you drank it all. He called for Price to get you clothes.

You were asleep on a cot with one arm around your waist and another under your head. The three of you were exfiled the next morning. They both lied for you, said you had bad food poisioning. He drove you home in the dead of night.

“Was it mine?” He asked, once the two of you were in the safety of your own bed. He hadn’t left your side the entire time.

“Yeah.” Here came the talk. The thing you dreaded most. The emotionally intimacy, the walls between the two of you were crumbling under the weight of what ifs.

“Were you going to tell me?” He had his cool back. That deep manchester accent that reminded you of menthols.

“I was. I just wasn’t sure when.”

“When you called me to sign the birth certificate?” He was making jokes, that was a good sign.

“I hadn’t decided if I was keeping it yet.”

“I’m sorry, love.” He had pulled up his mask to press a kiss to the back of your head.

“It’s not your fault.” Your hands rubbed over his.

“I would have been a shit dad. I woulda paid you and all that but I don’t think I could be there. I’d just fuck the little bugger up.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was just.. I don’t know.”

“Afraid?”

“Maybe.”

“I knew this was a possibility. I don’t pull out.” You breathed out a shaky laugh. “I wouldn’t have just left you. It’s your choice but I’m responsible for it.”

“I didn’t want you to be angry.”

“At you? For this? Never.”

You settled into bed, leaning your head back into his chest.

“Will you still be here tomorrow?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will be. Get some sleep.” He kissed the back of your head again. He was the big scary man in the mask, the one whose face you didn't know but whose body you did. The one you'd resisted admitting you cared about. Here he was, holding you at your weakest, kissing your hair.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #agent!reader #cod mwii #cod mw22 #call of duty fanfic #miscarriage

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slutforsilverfoxes · 6 months

Text

A Man After Midnight

[A/N: Uh… I’m just gonna leave this one here 🧍🏽‍♀️ ok thx bye 🏃🏽‍♀️]

🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤

Pairing: James Bond x female reader (gun play)

Shooting up in bed in your nearly pitch black room, you grab the closest item on your bedside table and hurl it at the doorway leading to the hall. You’re rewarded with a familiar low chuckle, one that sends your nerves alight and blood rushing through your veins.

“Attempted death by-” Bond pauses, and you hear him inhale deeply before concluding, “-vibrator. What would M have to say about that?”

“She’d thank me for getting you out of her rapidly graying hair,” you retort easily. “Now are you going to turn the lights on, or do you prefer to skulk about in the dark?”

“I most certainly do not skulk, darling,” he responds, voice sounding closer now and somewhat miffed. You track the way the shadows dance along the wall from the street lamp filtering in through the curtains on your window before hooking your ankle around what you presume to be Bond’s knee and giving a harsh tug. Your aim proves true, his weight falling onto the mattress by the foot of your bed with a quiet grunt.

Taking advantage of the position, you toss the covers aside and move to straddle his lap, suddenly grateful that you elected to wear only a short silk sleeping gown to bed tonight. The grin is evident in your voice when you ask, “Is that your weapon, 007, or are you just that excited to see me?”

“Yes and yes,” he responds smoothly, and you can’t help the shiver that races down your spine. “Why,” he intuits in that infuriating manner of his, “does that excite you?”

“It most certainly does not, darling.”

“Clever,” he murmurs. Then, in a flash, he’s above you, and you can feel the cold bite of metal pressed to your cheek. You suppress another shiver, and Bond lets out an appreciative laugh. “A clever lie, it seems.” He nuzzles the spot where your pulse thrums just below your ear and you moan a weak and whiny, “James.”

“No clip, no bullet in the chamber, just like we talked about,” he assures you quietly, and you hum your approval. “Now, where were we?”

Reaching up in the dark, your fingers find the sharp plane of his jaw and you run your nails lightly over the stubble growing there. “I believe you had me at your mercy? In the dark with a gun, no less?” The playful bite to your words morphs into a sharp intake of breath through your nose when the muzzle of the Walther presses into the pillowy flesh of your inner thigh.

“That’s more like it,” Bond hums, clearly pleased with himself as the metal leaves a cold trail in its wake, creeping higher and higher along your thigh until reaching its intended target. “Mouth closed, legs open. You’ll cooperate for me, won’t you?”

Obeying his mouth closed edict, you simply nod in response, and Bond takes the slight rustling of the sheets as your confirmation.

“It’s so much better for both of us when you listen to me,” he continues softly, the Walther just barely sliding back and forth against the growing wet spot in your panties. You can’t help the choked moan that escapes the back of your throat, and Bond tuts before covering your mouth with his free hand. The intoxicating scent of worn leather floods your senses and your eyes nearly roll back in your head- he’s literally dressed to kill.

“You really must stay quiet,” he says, a hint of disapproval twisting around his words. The barrel of the gun presses more forcefully against your clothed pussy and you grind down in search of friction, your desperate whimpers muffled by his gloved fingers clamping harshly over your mouth. Biting back a grin, Bond leans down by your ear and teases your aching core with the gun before whispering, “I wouldn’t want to have to use this on you, love.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #sf2 takes on kinktober #james bond #james bond x reader #james bond x female reader #james bond imagine #james bond fic #james bond smut #james bond x you #james bond x y/n #agent!reader #james bond x agent!reader #agent 007 #gun k!nk

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thelvrsera · 3 months

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Also you know how in the show Lauren goes undercover as James' gf to get info? Since I'm guessing that'll be the OC (I forgot it's an OC now not reader my bad sorry) and yk how the meetings are all in the same time? Like all the convicts are sat in the room talking to their ppl, and Jimmy's meeting happens to match Larry's. He sees James and the OC and asks him about her later on and he gets a bit protective yk. Like he tries to shoot Larry's questions down as best as he can but maybe ends up telling him a story from their past to not seem suspicious and mess everything up

I’m so indecisive over it at this point , I’m keeping it as an x reader until I get my shit together 😭😭

BUT! THIS IS GOLDEN!

they would both be leaving the visiting room together , Larry following close behind Jimmy before he spoke to him .

"James?"

"What is it , Larry?" Jimmy was starting to get sick and tired of being asked questions about his life every single day.

"How do you know that woman? It seems like you guys have a history?"

James was tense when he asked the question, partially because it was about Y/n , but also because he was scared it would blow his cover.

"I don't wanna talk about that right now Larry , what about uhm- that gir-"

Larry interupped his sentence .

"Was she one of the women ? Yknow , one of the 80?" Larry asked , remembering when he had asked James his body count one of the first days he met him .

James sighed softly , still tense from the questions .

"No , she wasn't" the man stated , his shoulders finally relaxing as he turned to face the corrupted man behind him . "She was the first woman I actually had a relationship with , since high school . She used to be apart of some stupid yearbook committee , we became friends and then one thing led to another." James stated , wanting to keep it short , simple and to the point without blowing his or her cover.

"there , ya happy ?" Keene had stated before walking off and not letting Larry have a last word.

but James knew he would be back to ask more questions , he always did .

#the script 🎀#the good the bad and the chosen #x reader #black bird #jimmy keene x reader #taron egerton x reader #fanfic #jimmy keene x fem!reader #taron egerton #x female y/n #x female reader #agent!reader

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giggly-squiggily · 2 months

Note

Hi! Forgetful anon here again!! I would like to retract my previous statement. I read a few of the drabbles and.... I cave,, your writing is just too delightful! (ノ´∀｀*) Ive never requested anything ever in my life from anywhere and im just going off what ive seen other people say terminology-wise... buuut for the candy hearts event, could you do sxf ler!franky/lee!reader? With ❤️Be Mine and 🩵Smile!! -💫 ♪ヽ(´▽｀)/

{Candy Heart Prompts: OFFICIALLY CLOSED!}

Heyo friend! :D Aww, you're so sweet! Thank you! No worries, you did great on the terminology! I haven't written for Franky in so long? Holy canoli he is a joy to write for! I hope you like it friend :3

CW: Possible drinking

Be Mine: "Oh that is IT! Come here!" + Smile: "I didn't know you were ticklish here."

“Heeeeey~” Franky slid up to you with an easy grin, two glasses and your favorite beverage in hand. “Doing anything in the next few hours?”

“Yes. Drinking that.” You grinned as he poured you a glass, sliding it over with surprising grace. “Wow, you’re good at that- if the informant business doesn’t work out, you could be a bartender.”

“Haha, very funny.” Franky took a seat beside you, watching you as you took a happy sip. “Though if you were my regular, I’d take up the job.”

“Charmed.” You grinned, making him snort mid sip. Laughing as he sputtered, you clink your glass to his. “Careful not to do that too often- won’t be impressing many people if you can’t hold your liquor.”

“We-ehehe! We’re not even drihinking that!” He wheezed through coughs.

“Hmm- even worse. At least the liquor you’d have an excuse.”

“Oh that is IT! Come here!” Recovering quickly, Franky put his drink down and tackled you into the couch. With one final gulp, you threw your glass to safety as his fingers dug into your ribs. “AH! Frahahhanky!”

“Whoa, that worked? I didn’t even know you were ticklish here!” He laughed, dancing his fingers against your sides as you laughed and squirmed beneath him. “Wow, an agent who’s ticklish! And here I thought Twilight was the only one!”

“Twihihiihihlihihihight’s tiihihihihiklish?”

“Shit- didn’t mean to let that one slip.” He winced, realizing he dug his own grave.

“Oohohohohoho, I’m tehheehhehehelling!” You teased through your giggles, arching with a squeal when he dug harshly into your lowest set of ribs. “AHhehahhahahaha, Frhahahahanky!”

“You absolutely are NOT telling! If I find out you snitched on me, I’m gonna make your life even harder than it is!” Despite the threat, he was grinning at you, eyes twinkling with mirth as you giggled and tittered on. “Prepare yourself for Franky’s ultimate tickle technique!”

#Candy Heart Valentine Event #chve2k24 #tickle #tickle dabble #sxf #franky franklin #reader #franky x reader #I wrote this fairly vague so platonic or romantic take your pick :D #agent!reader

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russosafehaven · 1 year

Text

Monochromatic Prisms: Part One

A/N: I’ve never done an ‘x reader’ or even a fanfiction before so hopefully this isn’t too bad?? I’m much used to writing my own stories!! Anyways hope anyone who finds this enjoys it.

Series Title: Monochromatic Prisms

Chapter: Part One - Every Story Starts Somewhere

Song: You’re own your own kid

Pairings: Matt Murdock x Reader (Platonic), Foggy Nelson x Reader (Platonic), Karen Page x Reader (Platonic), Daisy Johnson x Reader (Platonic), Yelena Belova x Reader (Platonic), Danny Rand x Reader (Platonic), Wanda Maximoff x Reader (Platonic), Pietro Maximoff x Reader (Platonic). Some of these are only mentioned!!

Word Count: 2094

The stairway was dark, as it usually was when stumbling home at 3am. Living on the top floor was a burden in this moments. Muttering to yourself as you continued the hike up the stairs, cursing yourself for being sloppy and getting shot.

Upon reaching the top floor, hands fumbled in your pockets for the keys to your apartment. In the dark, it was hard to identify the keys but eventually you found the right one. As always the door was a bitch to open. Jerking the key trying to turn the lock until finally it opened. The door swinging wildly as if it was out of control. Your hand shot out, feeling around for the light switch so that the room wasn’t so dark.

Heavy footsteps pounded in your ears as you made your way through the living room. As you found your way to the kitchen, you leaned on the bench for support. On the countertop there was a small white tin. A first aid kit. On the lid there was a range of stickers. It was decorated by Danny, a vigilante and CEO in his mid twenties. It was his gift to you when you had saved his life.

Pulling the tin over and ripping your shirt off, you found the suture kit as well as some tweezers. Not bothering to clean the tweezers you shoved them in and started to fish around for the bullet. As contact was made you began to pull it out. A harsh scream threatened to leave your throat. With a ugly squelch the bullet and tweezers left your body, replaced with a spurt of ruby liquid. Your hand slammed on the bench feeling around for a rag of some sorts. It was then you realised you didn’t have one near. Hesitantly you reached for the tea towel instead holding it over the wound on your stomach. The bullet had missed anything vital but regardless had hurt like a bitch. It was moments like these you regret giving your powers up, missed your team. Unfortunately you thought it was for the greater good, take a drug to suppress your powers and live your team until you could bring Frank Castle in.

Once the bullet hole was closed up neatly, you wandered over to your couch. Collapsing on the soft cushioning and reaching for the TV remote. As you flicked it on you searched for Netflix and tiredly typed in Brooklyn 99. Your favourite show at the moment next to various other sit coms. Lazily you drifted off to sleep not quite caring about the episode.

The next morning there was a burning pain in your stomach. It shot you up and your eyes didn’t get a chance to adjust to the light. You rushed over to the sink holding your head over it as the contents of your stomach poured out. As tears welled in your eyes from the stinging acid a knock at your door pulled your thoughts away. Grabbing the dish cloth you wiped your face opting to clean the mess later.

The walk to the door was short but taxing on your body. You opened the door and were greeted by a pair of red glasses. A grin was donned as the man made his way into your apartment.

“You’re worse than me, it’s nearly 1pm- is that blood? There’s copper in the air”

You silently damned yourself for forgetting your best friends “powers”. Instead of lying you laid out the truth.

“Patrol was rough last night, got shot and passed out after stitching myself up”

The man shook is head as he walked over to you. Gently throwing his white cane onto the small side table by the couch. Gently, he placed a hand around the wound site. Feeling the warmth rising to the area.

“You need to be more careful, especially without your powers I- I don’t know what’d happen if I lost you. Again”

Silently your mind reminded you of what happened just over 12 years ago. You were 16 and he was 18. He had received a scholarship into Columbia Law and left you. Despite his promises to stay in contact he never did. That same year, the other member of your trio had ran away from Saint Agnes. Leaving you to fend for yourself.

“You did fine the first time Matthew”

It came out harsher than you had meant it to, venom dripping as you said his name. His hand that was placed around the wound left tentatively. As if he didn’t quite want to let you go.

“That’s not fair, you know it’s not fair”

Like yours was, Matthews voice is also harsh. To an extent it was understandable. He had gone off for college and left his time at the orphanage behind. It wasn’t his fault he and the other had left the same year. Exhaling, you walked over to Matt, wrapping your arms around his waist. As you nestled into his chest he returned the gesture.

“I’m sorry for leaving you Dragon”

A smile formed on your lips at the mention of your childhood nickname. When you first met Matt at Saint Agnes he was 9 and you were 7. You had been wandering the halls late and night when you bumped into him. In your hands there was a purple dragon with blue accents, back then it was your life line. You had let him feel it to work out what it was. Since then the name Dragon had stuck. When you were 16 and wishing him off to college, you had snuck the plush animal in. A good luck charm of sorts.

“You’re here now Matthew, that’s all that matters to me”

A chuckle released from the two of you. For a moment, the world was just the two of you. Childhood best friends relishing in one another’s touch. That was until the door flung open revealing a distressed Foggy Nelson.

“Matt you went to check on them hours ag- oh hello you two, now can you bring your asses to the office! We’ve still got a case yknow?!”

The case in question was the Frank Castle case. You had left your old team when the murderous vigilante first started terrorising the city. In fact you had done your best research right down to finding his old home. To your knowledge he had a partner, a Billy Russo who hadn’t been caught yet. Yet Frank was caught and Matt being the idiot he was convinced Foggy to take on the case. You shudder at the memory of when you first saw Frank in hospital. You had a photo of him and his family that you had slipped into his hand when the rest of Nelson and Murdock’s employees turned around to discuss something. Your first impression of the vigilante was odd to say the least. He wasn’t quite the monster he was described as but you also didn’t need telepathy to see he had been hurt, deeply.

“Yeah sorry Foggy, I uh, got mugged and shot last night. Lucky me right?”

Foggy’s eyes flicked down to your waist. You only had a pair of sweatpants and a “cropped” tank top on. The pants hanging low enough to reveal the messily stitched wound that was above your adonis belt.

“Holy shit, are you sure you don’t need a hospital?“

His voice was laced with concern. Despite being aware of Matt’s “extracurriculars” you had decided against telling him you were an Ex-SHIELD Agent who currently operated as a vigilante. Matt, who had made his way to the kitchen to grab some water let out a chuckle.

“This isn’t funny Matt, they could be seriously hurt”

As Matt removed his glasses, placing them on the bench as he knelt down to find a glass, he started to respond to Foggy. Since you were kids, you had always hated the hospital after your year in the group home, you had come back to Saint Agnes different and both your friends could tell.

“Good luck getting them to a hospital Foggy”

Foggy huffed and you wandered off to your room. Peeling the sweat pants off and replacing it with more business casual attire. You hadn’t bothered closing the door, allowing the conversation to continue.

“Please don’t tell me you have an alter ego too”

The blonde exclaimed as you walked out of your bedroom. The button up shirt fit snugly, as did the black dress pants. The top few buttons of your shirt were left open, as they always were when it was just another day in the office.

“Foggy-“

You hesitated for a moment, taking a breath in. You battled internally whether to tell him the truth or not. Your eyes darted over to Matt who had picked up on your racing heart.

“Foggy I think it’s best you sit down. Matt can you call Karen, you all deserve to hear this”

Matt picked up his phone, calling Karen. Foggy’s brows burrowed in confusion. Despite Matt knowing about your past, you made the executive decision of acting as if he didn’t. You had left your team to bring Frank Castle in, you had given up your powers for this mission. It was time to tell your now closest friends the truth. At first, hunting down Matt and joining his firm was means to an end. Over the past few months they had became great friends. Foggy was always in awe of your baking, you and Matt loved reconnecting and Karen became your favourite drinking buddy.

“Hey what’s going on? What aren’t you telling us?”

You sighed, telling Foggy you wanted to tell all three of them together. It was only twenty minutes until Karen came knocking on your door. Matt had let her in, walking her over to the couch.

“What’s happened?”

Her voice was delicate yet firm, something you admired in the woman. As you started to think about how you wanted to phrase this, you started fiddling with your hands. Gently cracking your bones. A common nervous stim.

“I’m going to say something and it’s going to make me sound like a horrible person. You may hate me, you might shun me and honestly I get it, but I need you to know that it wasn’t my intention for this to go this far”

Karen have you a confused look, just as Foggy had done. Matt adjusted himself on the couch, trying to get comfortable as he prepared himself for less than savoury reactions.

“I am a former SHIELD Agent. I was hired when I was 22 years old, at the time I was on the streets. I had these powers I didn’t understand, I had always just seen myself as some sad mutant orphan. At first, I was scared around SHIELD. Until that is I was reconnected with Skye Johnson”

The name elicited a reaction from Matt, he wasn’t aware you had found Daisy again. She had ran away from Saint Agnes a day before he left for college which had left both of you distressed.

“Skye was my other best friend from Saint Agnes. At the time, we hadn’t seen each other for what… 6 years? Except she had changed, her hair was shorter, she had powers and she had discovered her parents wanted to name her Daisy. When we were 23, I met the twins Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, they were 21 years old. Mutants, an evolution to the human. Another year passed and now there’s Danny Rand, a 20 year old with these magic powers. A glowing fist that granted him super strength or some shit like that. I took him under my wing, just like I took the twins. Then when I’m 25, there’s Yelena Belova. A former Red Room assassin who, at the time, was 23. When I started to train with her, I started to form my team. The Outcasted. You had me, Prism. Daisy - Quake, Wanda - Scarlet Witch, Pietro - Quicksilver, Danny - Iron Fist and finally Yelena - the White Widow. We were good, it was an adjustment but we get along well. We were family. When I was 26 I discovered I was initially born in another reality, all of this. This world was fiction to me. It fucked with my head for a while. According to Strange, I tried to kill myself when I was 16 in my old world. Instead of dying, the multiverse put me here. Restarted my clock or some shit, and the infinity stones of this world? They were absorbed into my skin. Now they just sit in a cuff around my arm, but they gave me my powers. The following year I was caught in the carousel shooting, the one that killed the Castles. I only survived because the stones let me. Anyways, it hit me that Frank survived. When the Punisher made his first kill. I felt responsible, I mean fuck I could’ve done something that day you know? Fought to protect everyone, but I was weak. I didn’t fight. So I took this stash of drugs a friend of mine was working in. If I inject one vial a day it suppresses my powers, renders me unable to use them. So I stole them all, it’s lasted me this long. I made myself a whole new identity just so I could hunt Murdock down, fight in the streets of New York at night just for one fucking lead. Get a job with him, because maybe it would give me a fighting chance to help Castle. I know Matt, know him well. Catholic guilt makes him love helping strays”

As you trailed off, all three of them stayed silent. Foggy stood up making his way to the kitchen, more than likely to calm himself down. Another twenty minutes passed before someone spoke up and the silence made your skin itch.

“What made you decide to tell us now?”

It was Karen, you could hear betrayal in her voice yet also sympathy. You placed your hands down on your thighs, throwing yourself back in my chair. Staying quiet for a few moments, you answered her question.

“I couldn’t hide this shit from you guys any longer. It was meant to be a simple mission, joining Nelson and Murdock was just means to an end. I wasn’t meant to form attachments, but being around you guys… I had a family again. I couldn’t keep lying anymore. Plus Foggy found out I got shot so that was another reason”

At the sound of his name, Foggy looked over at you. His eyes staying still on your form. A sharp sting came from your stomach. You tried to ignore it but couldn’t avoid a grimace forming on your face. Karen let out a hum, mulling over what had just happened. It was a lot to take in, it always was.

“Promise me one thing, just one thing”

You looked back at Foggy who was still standing in the kitchen. His face was unreadable yet you can’t imagine it was pleasant. You nodded at him no verbally telling him to continue his sentence.

“Tell us when you need help?”

Your mouth opened to respond but closed almost immediately. The thumping in your chest felt like it was going faster and you felt everyone’s attention on you.

“Of course Foggy, I give you my word”

After a year of working alone, you found your faith in a team again. You knew Foggy wasn’t fond of helping Castle, but hopefully you could convince him otherwise. Karen got up from her sit, making her way over to yours as she sat down.

“I can’t say I approve of what you’re doing, but you do have experience. Just don’t get killed okay?”

You let out a small chuckle which made the other three let out small chuckles as well. Another team, another family. Maybe this trust thing was worth it. Matt shot a smirk your way, surprised that neither of them reacted in distaste, although you spoke up about it upfront. Matt left Foggy to find him half dead.

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lokiswifeduh · 2 years

Text

Forever and Eternity

Pairings: Natasha x fem!mutant!agent!reader, Bucky x reader(platonic), dark!Wanda x reader(platonic), dark!Wanda x Vision.

Word count: 2347

Summary: After the final fight against Thanos, you get a surprise call from Monica Rambeau, calling you in on a case. But who knew accepting it would lead you to see the love of your life, who had sacrificed herself for you only months before.

Warnings: Mind control, mentions of death, reader has powers, language, mentions of endgame(yes, this is a warning), manipulation, angst, some fluff, I think that's it, if not, let me know.

A/N: Hi! This is my first fic on here so please don't judge if it's bad. This idea came to my mind after watching Wandavision for the millionth time.

"Where are you going?" Bucky questioned, seeing you dressed in your uniform for the first time in almost six years. You sighed, "I got a call. Monica needed me to come in, it's apparently urgent."

Bucky nodded, listening as he slowly got up from the couch in your apartment. "And you are all good? Your okay to do this?" You bobbed your head up and down, confirming you were. "I need to get out at some point and..." You took a deep breath, taking a minute from gathering your gear. "If I don't do this now then I'll be sulking the rest of my life."

He seemed to understand, silently walking over and giving you a hug. Bucky had been living with you ever since the battle with Thanos ended. Of course, you had known him far before that but you two were the only ones still living in New York. You handn't gotten blipped, meaning you got to spend the six years, not in complete agony, Nat was there.

But Bucky hadn't been, and when he came to see you completely in despair over Natasha's sacrifice, he vowed to stay by your side.

And while he and Sam were so-called "co-workers"; Sam needed to spend some time with his sister and get to know his nephews. So you took Bucky in, allowing him a place to stay while he attended his court-mandated therapy. Plus, it wasn't bad having someone around since Natasha had passed. You didn't mind.

"She'd be proud of you," Bucky murmured into your hair, making you burrow your head into his chest even more. "Really?"

You could feel him nod, "You're getting back out there. Of course, she would be." You pulled away, wiping the stray tears that had fallen. "Okay.." Picking up your bag, you slung it over your shoulder and walked to the door. "Oh and doll?" You looked back to Bucky, "Hmm?"

"Call me to let me know you got there safe." You laughed under your breath, "If you ever figure out how to pick up with that ancient thing you call a phone."

Bucky fake gasped, "Cold Doll. That was just cold."

You walked out the door, hearing him plop back down on the couch. You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.

The chanting rang through your head. A silent pep talk. After making it down from the elevator, you were met with a man meeting you at the front door of your apartment.

"Miss Y/l/n?" "Yes?" You answered, "May I help you?" "We were sent by Miss Rambeau," He stepped aside, pulling the car door open for you, "As an escort."

Shaking your head, you pulled out your keys, "Nice gesture boys but.." You walked over to your bike that was parked by the front step, "I got my own ride."

"Ma'am I insist-" He tried to reason before you cut him off.

"Tell Monica I'll be there an hour sooner now that I'm not being escorted by her goon squad." You could see the way his eyes squinted but only cared for half a second before you turned the ignition and sped off into the streets of New York... Headed for a town called Westview.

One hour later

"And here I thought you would be late." Monica smiled, bringing you in for a hug. You laughed, reciprocating, "Me? Never."

She pulled back, "It's good to see you." You smiled, stuffing your hands in your pockets, "it's good to see you too."

"Come on.." She gestured to the town you were standing a little ways from.

"So what's the assignment?" You questioned, your hand resting on the gun in your holster. A habit.

"A town apparently gone missing." You let a laugh slip, "What?"

"This town." Monica pointed to the sign in front of you, "This place apparently doesn't exist."

You squinted at the sign, reading it clearly.

Welcome to Westview

"You do know we're standing right here." She nodded. "In front of it.." Monica nodded again, making you rub your head in confusion. "Are you on something because I think they drug test every agent-"

"I'm not on something." Monica shook her head, "look."

You watched her pull a pen from her pocket, walking a little further down the road, and throw it.

Wait. That was weird. It never...dropped.

"Okay..that's weird." You mumbled, walking up next to Monica. She hummed, agreeing. "We've talked to locals and nobody even has a recollection of a town named Westview." You looked over to her, attempting to come up with some reason for why this was happening.

"And what about government papers? Maps? Information." She shook her head, "This town has never existed anywhere in history."

You scoffed, walking up a little more. "Be careful Y/n." You waved her off, "I'm just looking."

Suddenly you started to feel a buzzing sensation as pain spread throughout your head. The once clear view of the road turned distorted. You could hear Monica screaming behind you but a tempting force was pulling you in. You lifted your hand, reaching, and reaching.

If you could just get a little bit-

"Ahhh!" You screamed, feeling your body passing through the barrier as your vision went dark. And you were left unconscious.

A distant chirping of birds caused you to wake, making you stuff your face further into the pillow. You could hear the familiar sound of a lawnmower and an occasional car horn honking outside your window.

Hold on.

When did you get home? The last thing you could remember was...Your eyes shot open, your body jumping off the comfortable bed. Where the hell were you?

The room was a pale blue, accented by wooden furniture. The bed was made, you had been sleeping on the covers. There was even a picture frame on the nightstand. You and...you and Natasha the night Bucky had joined the Avengers. You rounded the bed, picking up the frame. She looked so happy, holding onto your torso as she attempted not to fall. The one time she let her hard exterior fall down and she was genuinely open and fun.

You felt a tear slip down your cheek as you gazed at her wide smile. It was so real..so..Nat.

"Wakey wakey! Eggs and Bakey!!" Suddenly the door swung open, revealing...Wanda?

Her smile was wide and she looked...different. Her hair was crimped and she wore a pair of whitewashed jeans and a flannel. That's when it all came back to you.

Getting called in for a case. Meeting Monica at the edge of Westview. Being sucked in by an invisible barrier.

"Wanda?" You questioned lowly, watching her pour you a glass of orange juice from a pitcher. "Yes?" She answered, shaking some pepper onto freshly scrambled eggs.

"What's going on?" You watched her lift her eyes, her grin turning downwards before casting a fake smile once again. "Whatever do you mean, dear?" She walked around the bed and towards you, making your hand shoot down to where your gun should be.

And that's when you noticed your clothes had been changed. The once thin stealth uniform was now a pair of black corduroy pants and a white t-shirt. "What the..." You whispered, eyes shooting back up to the redhead before you.

"Wanda..." You gulped, "What's happening."

The sokovian laughed, "Come downstairs, dear. Say Good Morning to the boys."

"The boys?" Mumbling under your breath, you followed her from the room, making sure to take everything into account. Your training coming in handy.

"Boys!!" Wanda shouted, stopping at the end of the steps, making you stand beside her. "Come say Good Morning!"

You could hear sudden running from the other side of the house as two kids ran up in front of you. "Goodmorning Auntie Y/n!!"

You stayed silent, watching the two unknown boys grin up at you.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Wanda looked over at you, "Auntie Y/n?"

You let out a laugh, "Okay this is probably some sick fucking joke right?" The boy with longer hair gasped, "You said a bad word!!"

"Y/n! You know not to cuss in front of ears this young!" Wanda scolded, instantly smiling as she playfully covered the boys' ears and walked them over to the couch.

"Wanda, what the hell is going on?!" You shouted, fed up. "I won't ask again!"

Her smile faded, turning to a glare. "You just had to be the only one." She stalked toward you, however, you stood your ground, not backing down.

"You had to be the one to ruin this." Wanda's hand came up, two of her fingers pressing on your temple. Suddenly you were standing in a forest. If you could even call it that. Dead trees surrounded you. The sky was a dark maroon and the ground was black dirt.

Looking down, you were in your stealth uniform once again. "Wanda, please just tell me what's-" Your eyes went to her, standing there in a dark red suit. Her eyes that looked happy only moments ago now had dark bags under them. She looked tired. Her cheekbones were sunk in, and her fingers looked like they had been dipped in black powder.

"Wands?" "Don't call me that." She shook her head, walking around you like a predator stalking its prey. "I want to know how."

"How what?" "How you saw through it." Wanda gestured to the sky, "How you saw through the illusion."

You took a deep breath, "We both know why." Your eyes met hers as she stopped in front of you. "Because I'm not susceptible to your powers. I never have been."

She laughed darkly, "Yes, I know. That's why I could never read your mind in those godawful Avengers meetings."

You nodded, "You're keeping an entire town under mind control." Wanda smirked, "I thought that was obvious."

You looked around, not seeing a way out. Only dead trees for miles and miles.

"If your looking for an escape you won't find one." You turned back, Wanda suddenly standing much closer than before. "But why would you want to leave?"

"What?" Your brows furrowed, "What are you talking about?"

She stepped back, holding her hands out as crimson energy spread through her fingers. "I can give you everything you ever wanted."

"And what would that be?" You asked, a loud doorbell going off as you both were suddenly back in the house. Each of your outfits fitting the certain look Wanda had set.

"I wanna get it!!" One of the boys screamed, trying to run before the other one tripped him, "No! I want to!" "Boys," Wanda softly called, shaking her head. "Let's allow Auntie Y/n to." I looked over at her, seeing the way she smirked evilly. "Go on. Answer the door." Wanda walked closer, whispering, "It's for you."

You gulped, making your way over to the door as you shakily placed your hand on the knob. Turning it ever so slightly, you pulled it open, your heart shattering into a million pieces.

A gasp left your throat before you could contain it. "Oh my god.." You mumbled, clutching your hand to your chest as if that would help your breathing.

"Natasha..." You choked out, seeing her smiling at you with such a pure look.

"Well hello, detka." (baby)

Nat wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you in as her lips connected with yours. You stilled for a moment, then melted into her embrace. This couldn't be happening. You thought, however, your arms snaked around her waist. Pulling both of you impossibly closer. Her tongue moved with yours, both of you hungrily searching for more.

You reluctantly pulled apart, still holding onto her arms as if she would disappear..again.

But suddenly Nat stopped moving, her smile frozen as everything else seemed to still.

"What?" You mumbled, attempting to figure out what the hell just happened.

"So?" Wanda spoke from behind you, making you turn to look at her. "Choose." "Choose what?" "Her," She gestured to Nat still paralyzed behind you, "Or reality." You kept her gaze as she continued, "Live here. Have a house. A family." That hit a certain part of your heart. Having a family with Natasha, something you had both wanted, yet it felt like so long ago.

"Or go back. Live in the truth. That you're only an agent that lost her girlfriend." You thought about it as she rambled on, "Go back and you'll always be the Y/n that people give pity looks to because she jumped to save you both...when you were only two seconds behind her."

Gulping, you looked back to Natasha, seeing the genuine smile on her face as she gazed into your eyes.

Could you stay here? In this fake world, Wanda had created. Could you pretend like nothing on the outside had happened? That Natasha was dead.

You had tried to cope in the past few months but..not eating for days and staring at pictures while you drank yourself to sleep suddenly felt too far away.

Meeting Wanda's gaze you nodded. "I want to stay. I want her back." Wanda's smirk turned into a grin as time seemed to go again.

"Ahh, we have company!" Vision walked in behind Natasha. The redhead sloppily fell into your embrace as she walked you two over to an armchair to sit.

You tuned out the Maximoff family behind you, looking to your girlfriend that sat snug into your side. "Natasha?" "Hmm?" Her head turned, seeing the look in your eyes. "What's wrong?" Nat wiped a stray tear from your cheek, "Tell me what happened." You shook your head, stopping her worries, "It's nothing. I just.." She waited, her hand coming up to cup your cheek as you nuzzled into her palm. "I just love you, so much Romanoff." Natasha let a breathy laugh slip, holding your face in her hands, "And I love you, Y/l/n." She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, mumbling against them, "Forever and eternity."

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terrence-silver · 1 year

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Some of your latest asks have me inspired lol. What if beloved was a deep undercover agent and Terry wasn't aware? Like they met and Terry thought their paths crossing was just random but it was secretly completely intentional on beloved's part to gain Terry's interest. Years pass, they get married at some point, maybe have a kid or two, and Terry one day eventually discovers that beloved is a undercover agent that was just there to be able to gather information on Terry's dealings in other countries. How would Terry react?

Betrayal.

Wrath.

Hate.

Imagine opening up to someone, showing them every weakness, every exploitable corner, every soft spot, every everything and they --- they've been double crossing you the whole time!? Been leaking every conversation, piece of intel, document, every secret, every confession, every everything like some sort of rat and yet he's the bad guy here!? Bullshit! --- No matter, once Terry Silver's done smashing up his mansion and bleeding up his fists with the type of wrath that would put a tsunami to shame, he becomes eerily calm. He usually always does and that's when he's scariest. Beloved belongs to him. Now, pretty up much out of sheer, cocksure spite and revenge, because cutting them off from their freedom is just about the only bit of control he can grip unto at this point, like a life-raft, so he doesn't lose his sanity even more. He won't let them go, no. That would be too easy and too merciful. He doesn't do mercy. And no agency, organization, or syndicate can have them, because they're his. His children are his as well. Beloved is retired. They're retired because he's retiring them right now and they'll go no contact from their little colleague lackeys forever seeing as how their actions have spoken louder then words, and the way he sees it, someone who can backstab their owns spouse would backstab anyone and in a morbid sense, he almost admires beloved's Machiavellian tendencies. He yearns to hatefuck it out of them. Terry wanted to play nice. Terry gave them the world. But, they want him when he's mad, don't they? He's just as content letting them live out the remainder of their life with him locked in the dungeons below his mansion --- which, no way Terry doesn't have one of those. Trust and believe, he does, and if he doesn't, he's building one now. In a way, he feels beloved very much deserved what's coming to because they're just as bad as they think he is. They're worse, actually.

As for Dynatox?

He might just expand his operations to several other countries just because.

Just because beloved, bless their bleeding heart, seems to care so very much what happens in (throws dart) the islands of Micronesia, what happens to the indigenous tribes of Oceania and what happens to Honduras as a whole, for all we know. Everything can sink beneath the toxicity-ridden, pesticide-polluted, oil-leaking sea-waves for all he cares. The agencies after him want something to spy on? Okay, spy on this and all the other ecological disasters that might just skyrocket in quantity in the years of come.

Terry Silver's family house already metaphorically burned down from the inside.

Now, the rest of the world will burn for real.

#terry silver #dynatox #kk3 #cobra kai #agent!reader #agent!beloved #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #angst #tw; ecological terrorism

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jamneuromain · 1 year

Text

When Pigs Fly

Steve Rogers x You (Reader)

Warning: Swearing, a lil humor, a lil fluff, agent!reader

W/C: 1.7K

Summary: Is there a chance for Captain America, to be your friend?

A/N: Big smooch to @rogerswifesblog, who forms this idea with me together.

Steve is using his serious face again.

He crosses his arms, standing upright, looking down at you with a stern look.

“You were reckless in the field, Agent.” He addresses you coldly, “I will not tolerate that sort of behavior.”

This isn’t the first time when you argue with Steve Rogers because of the way you behave in the field. If you are being honest, Captain Rogers himself is also behaving recklessly, doing stupid shit all day, with no one up on his ass.

“And I saved the team. You’re welcome.” You retort back, fiddling with your tactical suit and the stains of dirt.

“Nearly killing yourse-” Anger bubbles in his stomach. Steve takes a deep breath, calming himself, “until further evaluation, you’re on desk duty.”

You don’t care about desk duty. You could fool those tests easily and get back into the field in no time. But you can’t help but tease him, wiggling your eyebrows, “killing myself? Care so much about me, Capitaine? What, you have a crush on me or something?”

You swear, some newbie gasps in the background.

Utter silence.

You witness Steve’s ears flush red, while his jaw clenches.

Quinjet is so quiet that you could drop a needle on the ground, and the whole team can hear it.

“Landing in five.” A pilot speaks through the broadcasting system.

“NO.” He pushes the words out of his tight lips, “no, Agent, I do not have a crush on you. Now sit back and report to the mission center after landing. You are off the team for a month. End of discussion.”

Wow, I wonder if someone takes the wrong medicine this morning.

They would’ve taken you off the team completely if you weren’t one of the best field agents.

They still need you.

But you’ve poked the Captain enough for today.

“Aye aye, Captain.” You buckle yourself into the uncomfortable seat, patting the dust on your sleeves.

“Damn, desk duty again?” Sam, who’s around the mission center when you submit your evaluation form, asks you in surprise, “what did you do this time?”

You press your lips into a flat line and shrug, “reckless. Guilty as charged.” You eye your paperwork while mouthing “Captain America”.

Sam huffs out a laugh, “c’mon, it’s been what, two weeks? Since you have been back on the field? You really pissed him off, huh?”

You nod to the mission dispatch lady at the front desk, swinging your backpack over your shoulder. You can’t tell if you pissed off THE Steve Rogers. However, you know, deep down, that if he is angry, you will face something much worse. You don’t know how you will face an angrier version of him, which makes you slightly uncomfortable.

You choose to steer away from the topic, “I’m heading to the weapon room to return my stuff, you coming?”

“Uh-huh, I’m picking up my gears there.” Sam smiles, gesturing to the special elevator five feet away, “might as well use the shortcut.”

The weapon room is a few floors below. Instead of taking the staff elevator, which is three hundred feet away, Sam is kind enough to let you ride the “Avengers only” elevator with him, leading to the conference hall floors below.

You can hear two voices before you even reach the conference hall.

“…can’t do this, Buck.”

“…then what?”

Sam murmurs quietly: “Speak of the devil.”

“…risking her LIFE! I can’t exactly watch…”

The conference hall is empty. The only possibility is that Steve and Bucky are talking in one of the conference rooms down the hall.

The voices getting clearer as you approach one of the rooms, the glass door of which clearly leaves on open by accident.

“Geez, calm down, punk.” You hear Bucky speaks in a low voice, “you like her or something?”

Awkward silence.

Sam spares a glance at you briefly.

You keep your face strict. Even the world’s most impressive interrogator couldn’t read anything from your expression right now.

“…I don’t like her.”

You hear Steve say.

Cold. Distant. Indifferent.

It will be lying to admit if his words didn’t just hurt you.

All this time, you thought at least, you and Steve could reach the bar of “barely-friends”.

Hearing he doesn’t like you is like a bucket of ice water dropped from your head, helping you realize that work buddies don’t socialize. Colleagues will never be true friends.

Not in your line of work.

Well, it’s his loss. You scoff, walking further away from the room they are in, nearly stomping your boots off.

Bucky catches a glimpse of Sam passing from the door. He lowers his voice even more: “I’m on your side, punk. I can tell-”

Steve shakes his head, carrying the shield on his back, clearly doesn’t want to continue this conversation,“see you in the training room in twenty.”

Steve pushes through the door.

He does not have you in sight, but his super hearing captures Sam and you.

“I’m sure Steve means it in a good way.”

“Yeah, when pigs fly.”

It is two weeks later when Steve sees you in such a big compound again.

He is supposed to deliver his mission report to the mission center when he runs into you, knocking over the box of files in your hands.

You look surprised, but only a little, crouching to pick up the files. “Hello, Captain.”

“Hello Agent.” He feels sorry, helping you to put the files back into the box, “how’s desk duty? No hard feelings, right?”

You don’t know whether he’s mocking or just caring.

“Not as exciting as in the field, but I’ll manage.” You cover the box with a lid, avoiding his gaze, “not my first time anyway.”

You speak with a careless tone, as if nothing truly frustrates you.

Steve has checked your evaluation progress. There is only one assessment left. His own.

He has been pending the result for three days, yet he still could not determine whether or not to let you back in the field.

On the one hand, you are one of the best agents he knows. You are loyal, decisive, and above all, capable.

On the other hand, you are truly reckless. Some might even say cold blood when you are evaluating your life against others.

You tend to choose others over your own.

Two weeks ago, if it hadn’t been you taking out the last bomb on the very last second of the countdown, it could have been one-half of the team that was buried under the building, him included.

You also could have died because you try to disarm it even if he told you to retreat to rendezvous.

“Do you need anything else, Captain Rogers?”

You ask him with the heavy box under your arm.

He feels sorry for you, somehow. Steve wants to make it up to you.

“We’re having pizza night, tonight, in the compound. Sam, Bucky, Nat…a small group of people, basically everyone you know. We thought it’d be nice if you could join us.”

They didn’t.

They don’t know about this.

It is purely his idea to have you join them. To get to know you better.

It’s not even pizza night tonight. He said so because he figured you would be more comfortable with familiars around.

“Raincheck.” A polite smile hanging on your lips, “schedule’s full tonight. Sorry.”

Your heartbeat perks up, because you are lying, and he hears it.

“…OK. Maybe sometime next week?” He asks hopefully.

You love pizza. But he made it clear to you, socializing with heroes is dangerous. And he might not want you there. He doesn’t even like you. He probably asks you out of politeness.

Why would you embarrass yourself when you don’t know all of them that well?

You come so close to smiling at his attempt, “Captain Rogers, we’re not the same kind of person. I get it. You don’t have to do this. We don’t have to be friends.”

He sighs, putting up his hands as a sign of giving up, “not the slightest of chance?”

“When pigs fly.” You joke, “seriously, though, have a good night, Captain Rogers.”

Steve goes to bed that night, can’t stop thinking about you.

He mutters God knows how many times “I don’t have a crush on her” before he could go to sleep.

Two more weeks flew by when you receive an anonymous note.

Two simple words.

“Look outside.”

There’s swooshing sound outside. Your colleagues are rushing out of the compound in laughter. Some open the window, also laughing.

You wonder if there is a gas leak.

However, you follow them out of the building for your own sanity, looking up as most of them point their phones to the sky.

Swooshing sound grows louder.

You crane your neck and see the most unbelievable thing in your life - and you are saying this when you can see Hulk’s transformation and Ironman’s suit on a weekly basis.

Ironman’s suit - no, a small Ironsuit with a pig in it, is flying across the compound in low air.

The Ironsuit literally has four legs.

The pig is squeaking, thrusters are booming, ridiculous and laughable at the same time.

Never in one day of your life have you ever thought of the proverb “pigs fly” would come true.

“We’re doing pizza night, wanna come?” A familiar voice stands on your left. You know who spoke before you turn your head and look.

“Pigs fly. Steve. Wow.” You exclaim, “how did you get it done?”

Steve Rogers beams, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He is only wearing a simple shirt and jeans, his hands in his pockets, giving off a relaxing vibe.

“Well, Tony helped. Clint too, he offered a piglet.”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head in amusement.

“So, pizza night…?”

“If pigs can fly,” you point to the sky, a genuine smile on your lips, “why not?”

Bonus:

You meet Tony on your way back to the building.

Tony pointed at Steve with his index finger, “you, Mister Rogers, owe me. Big time.”

Steve and you exchange a knowing look. Steve grins, “thank you, Tony. The plan worked.”

“Oh no. That’s not what I’m talking about.” Tony grinds his teeth, “Nobody told me that pigs could shit their pants ... shit their suit.”

You smother your laugh with your palm, shaking like a leaf in the autumn air.

The billionaire let out a shriek, “now that lump of meatloaf has ruined my million-dollar custom-made suit. Shit. Shitted - HOW AM I GOING TO EXPLAIN THIS TO PEPPER???"

#steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #agent!reader #captain america fluff

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bloodyknucklesforme · 6 months

Text

I want to write at least 2 more Ghostx Agent!Reader fics before the end of the year so if anyone has requests for any genre of those please send them in because I have been stuck but I miss them

#simon ghost riley #agent!reader #ghost x agent!reader

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slutforsilverfoxes · 2 years

Note

OH MY GOD can you please write sierra six smut i will literally pay you

Here at the house of slutforsilverfoxes, your pleasure is our payment 🫡

A/N: I am so sorry this took 84 years to write but I hope it lives up to expectations. I rewatched the movie for the third (!) time last night and this man makes me absolutely feral. I hope y'all enjoy 🥰

Tags: @buckysboobs

___

You strolled rather leisurely down the streets of Prague, admiring the orange hues painting the sky from the setting sun, the slight spice of smoke and cannabis pervading your senses and reminding you of home. Or rather, what you once considered home. Did people in your field really have a place they called home?

Shaking yourself out of your reverie, you deftly hopped over the wrought iron fence of your target's overly expensive mansion, making quick work of the hedge maze you had memorized the night before courtesy of aerial recon. You watched from the shadows at the entrance to the maze as, like clockwork, the evening protective detail swooped in to replace the day team. You had told Denny you'd take this op under one condition: the target's wife and child had to be out of the country. Less guards, less collateral. You may have given up your life and body to the CIA, but you would cling to your own perverse sense of morality until your dying breath.

Even if you were still tying up loose ends from the shitstorm Denny and Suzanne had let wreak havoc across Europe over a year ago.

Approaching the measly crew guarding the maze under the cloak of falling night, you slipped your trusty weapon from its holster, screwed on the silencer, and fired two shots within the span of mere seconds, the sound of thudding bodies overlapping as the guards dropped lifelessly to the pristinely trimmed grass. Confident that the coast was clear and the rest of the protective detail were at their stations inside the mansion, you glided across the expansive yard, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at the cursive letter mowed into the lawn. You would never grow used to the hubris of men like this target, who wanted to remain quiet oligarchs but lived in the biggest houses with the most ostentatious gardens and obnoxious (read: ugly) artwork and enough money to brand their grass with the first letter of their last names.

Perhaps you were bitter, or perhaps they were compensating. Creeping along the exterior of the house, you decided both scenarios were equally likely.

A curse fell from your lips as the lights went out, cloaking you in complete darkness. Snagging the windowsill above you, you pulled yourself up to see that the interior lights were out as well, save for a measly glow in the nearby hallway presumably powered by a generator. You could hear shouting in the distance, your target’s security detail assessing the impending threat and gathering to protect the man who signed their paychecks.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end alerting you to a presence at your six. Either this person was shit at their job or they were a friendly. Letting your body drop to the ground as you whipped around, you hissed out, "Who are you?," gun trained on the spot dead center between a pair of striking eyes that, had you not been working an op, would’ve stolen the very breath from your lungs.

"That’s a loaded question. Who are any of us real-"

The man merely blinked as a bullet whizzed by his ear. Glancing at the chunk of wall gouged out inches from his face and then back at you, the ghost of a smirk flitted past his features. "So I should change our relationship status to It’s Complicated I take it."

"It’s only fair for me to inform you that I don’t give second chances. Who are you?"

"Consider me the cavalry. I support you on this op, you get the collar, take the credit, we never see each other again. Job well done by all parties considered."

You cocked your head to one side, your gun mimicking the angle. "You’re Sierra." It was a statement, not a question.

"Once upon a time," he conceded nonchalantly. Realization dawned on you and your eyes flashed with recognition. Sierra Six. The silent assassin. The Gray Man. Every agent had heard whispers of his infamy despite the fact that the Sierra program, let alone the man standing before you in the flesh, simply did not exist.

"They let you back in this city after the international stunt you pulled last time?" you asked wryly, one eyebrow raised.

"You think they know I’m here? You wound me." He had an easy way about him that was equal parts unsettling, given your shared line of work and his supposed nonexistence, and incredibly attractive. "So now that we've been acquainted-"

"Hardly," you interjected with a slight smirk of your own.

"-what's your plan to breach, Agent Y/L/N?"

"You’ve done your homework," you nodded appreciatively, your playful banter coming to a dead halt as his words soberly reminded you of the task at hand: assassinate the target, collect the drive, and eliminate anyone standing in the way of priorities one and two.

You explained the layout of the mansion to him, detailing the number of entries and exits, hidden corridors, and possible ambush sites. Deciding that you would begin in the east wing and gradually make your way across the mansion, Six eased his magazine into his semi-automatic with a satisfying click as you slid your knife out to play.

The two of you approached the nearest entryway, your back to his as he expertly picked the lock. The door swung open with a soft creak and you tapped his shoulder twice to signal you were ready to breach. "I’ve got your six," you muttered, trying and failing to hide your cheeky tone.

He threw a look over his shoulder and you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face at his silent confirmation of your earlier deduction before you followed him down the hall, light on your feet.

You moved in a silent dance, perfectly choreographed without having to so much as make eye contact, his movements sharp, yours fluid, his bullets flying, your knife singing. It was complementary and harmonious and downright beautiful how your bodies morphed into a single killing machine. Within minutes, you had reached the opposite end of the villa and effectively incapacitated the entire peripheral security detail. Crossing back into the heart of the building, you flanked the large wooden doors leading to the massive study, your target’s home headquarters and his current hiding spot from the mayhem.

Swiping the flat of your blade across your thigh to remove the evidence of your previous triumphs, you smiled at your impromptu partner. "Ready for round two?"

He shot you a wink in response. "Let’s get loud."

The doors simultaneously flew open with a bang as your feet made contact with the heavy oak. A series of shouts, muzzle flashes, and expertly placed cuts later, your first task was complete.

Nonchalantly stepping over the bodies littering the floor, you asked, "So what inspired you to leave the glorious Cunt Incapacitators Anonymous?" You snapped a picture of your recently departed target for your employers’ confirmation, thumbs flying across the screen to encrypt the image.

Six quirked an eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth imperceptibly matching its angle in amusement. "You’ve gotta workshop that one, kid."

"You understood what I meant so it’s not that bad," you rolled your eyes. "And don’t dodge the question."

"Palm trees," he answered simply, rifling through paperwork scattered across the desk before you.

You huffed in annoyance at his measured response. "Seriously? Clearly you haven’t retired."

"What is this, Y/L/N, twenty questions?" The rebuke was enough to have your mouth sheepishly snapping shut. "I’ll check his body while you scan the furniture."

"Hey," you grabbed his wrist as he reached for the breast pocket of the target’s suit, the juxtaposition of the rough fabric of his glove and his surprisingly soft skin sending a jolt of electricity through your body, "don’t forget this is my op. You’re the self-proclaimed cavalry."

He stepped away from the body with his arms out in front of him, "We’ll switch then, Your Highness."

You offered a satisfied nod before beginning your thorough search, unfurling pockets, checking for custom made hiding spots, patting down to feel for items tucked away from plain sight and prying eyes.

"Unremarkable on my end," you called out. "Got a fancy pen that’s probably worth more than I have in savings, some mints, and a family picture," you dumped the items on the desk in front of you as you listed them.

"Didn’t peg him for the sentimental type," Six shrugged, popping up from his evidently uneventful search of the drawers. "No false bottoms here, either. Where next, my liege?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up," your eyes rolled on instinct to join your biting comeback, missing the way his jaw ticked in response to your bratty display. Following the deceased’s line of sight to a painting on the wall opposite his desk, a catlike grin spread across your face as you stalked towards the art. "Only one painting in this big ass room? Rookie mistake." You turned back to Six and dramatically swiped at the frame behind you. "Is there a safe? There’s a safe, isn’t there?"

The sliver of moonlight streaming through the window offered you a glimpse of what you presumed to be a visage of respect.

"Don’t be too impressed, I do have three years of this under my belt," you teased, attaching a device to the electronic lock that offered hassle free entry.

"Three years? You’re like, twelve."

"I know you’ve read my dossier," you retorted as you triumphantly pulled the drive from the safe and placed it in a special containment setup with a faraday cage, "and I know you know I’m twenty-five."

"That’s quite the talent, managing to make me feel old in a mere four syllables."

You turned to answer him and felt your breath catch in your throat as you looked up to find his sharp gaze trained on you. With the small bit of light the moon was offering, you could see now that he had several fresh cuts and scrapes dotting his cheeks and chin, a deeper gash on his forehead. Had he come straight from another op to help you? Swoon. Physically shaking your head to keep that train of thought at the station, you let the playful lilt return to your voice, coming off much more grounded than you felt at present. "Well it’s nice to see you can still move, old timer."

You both turned to the floor-to-ceiling windows of your target’s study at the sound of approaching sirens interrupting your banter, faint blue lights dancing across the floor. "I’m guessing getting arrested by the Czech police isn’t covered in your exfil, Y/L/N."

"How astute of you, Six," you snorted, moving to the adjacent bookcase and running your fingers along its shelving for a hidden latch. "Come to think of it, should I still call you that?"

"You get us out of here without the Hansen special of blowing up half the city, you can call me anything you like."

Smiling triumphantly, you tugged on the bookcase and revealed a hidden hallway. "Anything?"

Your eyes widened as a glint of metal whistled past your face into the dark hallway behind you, just shy of the apple of your cheek. Turning, you found your knife- when had he taken it from the strap on your thigh?- embedded in the forehead of the last guard standing whose hands were still raised in a width that you suspected matched that of your neck. "Nearly gave me a haircut there," you joked, bending down to wrench your blade out before returning it to its rightful sheath on your dominant leg.

"Nah," he gently tugged at a strand framing your face, "it’s nice at this length."

A faint blush dusted your cheeks at the unexpected compliment and you were suddenly very grateful that Six had cut the power earlier.

You cleared your throat and stepped into the cramped tunnel, "So revisiting this whole ‘Anything’ concept before we were so rudely interrupted…"

He shrugged easily in response, following you into the dark space before swinging the fake door closed behind you, the inky black darkness swallowing you both immediately and blocking out the heavy footfalls infiltrating the mansion. "What can I say," his smooth voice oozed over your skin like warm honey, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine, "I like a bit of adventure in my life. Don’t you?"

"Six," his pseudonym tumbled from your lips in a whisper. You couldn’t see a thing in the pitch black tunnel, but your every sense was heightened to his presence. His smell. His stature. The power radiating off of him that had the air positively crackling with charged energy, a current flowing between your bodies just daring one of you to act on it.

So you did.

Down there in the dark, the full force of the Czech police mere feet away from you cordoning off the crime scene, you kissed the Sierra Six like you were drowning in an endless ocean and he was beckoning you up to the surface, up to the light. Your hands snaked their way into his blonde locks as his fingers pressed into your hips, backing you up, deftly stepping over the guard’s limbs until you crashed against the crude tunnel wall, his mouth greedily swallowing down your moans.

Feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen and his heady kiss, you reluctantly pulled back to suck some air into your lungs. His forehead pressed against yours, warm breath fanning over your face, arms protectively locked around you. "Can we- Should we- ugh," you groaned softly at your own hesitation. Your body count was more along the lines of murder than sex, and a sudden bout of nerves trapped the words in your mouth until you felt gentle pressure against your hips, spurring you on. "Can we spend the night somewhere, pretend to be normal people for once?"

"Like we didn’t just commit multiple counts of homicide?"

You merely grunted in response, taking his remark to be a rebuff of your offer.

"Hey," he laughed softly, gently removing your dominant hand from his hair and shaking it in his own. "I’m Court." His voice had a harshness to it as he said his name- his real name- aloud for quite possibly the first time in years.

You pressed your lips back against his, your mouths curving upward in twin smiles. Barely pulling away from him, you offered in kind, "Y/N."

———

You leaned leisurely against the doorway of the small hotel bathroom, arms crossed as you drank in the sight of Six-no, Court- shirtless, scrubbing the blood of the day from his palms and underneath his fingernails. You could think of no better word to describe him than beautiful, his blonde locks catching the light just so, his big, broad, purely masculine shoulders tensed with the weight of the day, the muscles in his arms rippling with the repetitive movements, the artwork adorning his upper body, the light smattering of hair along his abs that teased you with the promise of more beauty to unearth just below. He was a brute, an expert killing machine, a wall of pure muscle, yet goosebumps erupted over your skin at the memory of his gentle hands caressing your curves in the darkness during your hidden tryst.

His gaze met yours through the mirror and heat bloomed across your cheeks knowing that you had been caught blatantly ogling his body. But then his eyes scanned from head to toe and back again, systematically assessing your figure, clad in only shorts and a sports bra after your post-mission shower, in the dim hotel light. His lips, still a shade darker than their normal tint from your earlier assault, quirked upwards in a smile- you were even now.

You watched as he plucked his previously discarded shirt from the countertop and ran it under the faucet before wringing it out and bringing it to his face to address his most recent wounds. Pushing yourself off the doorframe, you ran your fingers along the mottled pink flesh on his shoulder, following in their wake with butterfly kisses. Wrapping your arms around his torso, you reached into the shelf beneath the sink and pulled out a fresh towel. His eyes tracked your every move as you draped the fabric over his hand and instructed, "Use this like a civilized human being."

"What part of this," his eyes flitted down to his body decorated with scars and a rainbow of bruises, "says civilized?"

You merely chuckled in response, relenting and tossing the towel aside before hopping up to perch on the sink counter. You slipped his black tee from between his fingers and delicately touched the cloth to the inch-long gash on his forehead as he smiled down at you, amused. "What?" you mumbled, tongue peeking out between your lips as you concentrated intently on cleaning the wound without applying too much pressure.

"I can’t remember the last time someone took care of me like this." His voice was low, almost haunted, and you found yourself wondering which tragic backstory the CIA had plucked him from. Collecting kids from broken homes or prison seemed to be their preferred modus operandi.

"When’s the last time you let them?" you challenged softly, daring to sneak a peek at his stormy grey-blue eyes and finding them already trained on you.

His nimble fingers, roughened by callouses from years of grueling combat, gently wrapped around your wrist, dwarfing your hand in his. He moved your arm from its spot between the two of you, then released your wrist and let his thumb come up to rub over your bottom lip as you splayed your hands across the taut muscles of his back, closing your eyes and trying to memorize the hard planes of his body.

"Court," you breathed out, feeling a shiver run down his spine at the sound of his name falling from your lips like a prayer. Not Six, not Agent, not You’ll Kill Who I Tell You To Kill Because That’s All You’re Good For, but Court. No one had ever said his name like that before.

Your nails gently scraped down the stubble dotting his cheeks and his eyes flew open. "You still with me?"

He nodded almost imperceptibly before surging forward to capture your lips in a heated kiss, his teeth tugging harshly along your bottom lip and eliciting a wanton moan from the very depths of your soul. For the second time that night, your arms wound around his neck to pull him closer to your body, fisting your hands in his hair as you shamelessly rutted against his quickly hardening length. His hands slipped under the curves of your ass, lifting you off the countertop and massaging your flesh through the thin fabric of your shorts as he walked you to the bed before gently laying you across the mattress. He stood at the edge of the bed, his glistening chest rising and falling as he watched your mirrored breaths almost reverently. You beckoned him down to you and he kneeled in the space between your legs, ever so slowly lowering his head to press kisses along your stomach. Gradually moving upward, he paused at your sports bra, tucking his fingers into the elastic band. "Can I-"

"Please," you cut him off with a whine, desperate to feel the roughness of his beard against your sensitive skin. The fabric was up and over your head within seconds, his mouth working on one breast while his hand massaged the other before the soft thud could even alert you that your clothing had landed on the other side of the room. The feeling of his lips and teeth and tongue and beard was absolutely sinful, causing you to involuntarily arch up into him and gasp at the size of him.

"Now I see why you’re so casual with big guns," you mused with a grin, your comment causing him to pause in his ministrations and smirk up at you.

"You handle them pretty well yourself," he countered, thumb lazily brushing over your nipple.

"Yeah but," you pushed at his shoulders until he fell onto his back beside you, offering you leverage above him, "I like my knife," you flicked open the button of his pants, "because it offers," you pulled the zipper down, slipping your hand inside to stroke his cock, "close contact."

"Fuck," he hissed out between gritted teeth, the single syllable causing liquid heat to pool between your thighs. You slid back off the bed and tugged his pants and boxers down with you, sitting up on your knees to press kisses against his thighs. Leaning up on his elbows, he drew his bottom lip between his teeth and shook his head. "You don’t have to-"

With a quick swipe of your tongue, you stole the words from his mouth. "Consider it a thank you," you muttered between kisses along his length before taking him fully in your mouth.

The strangled groan that left his lips was raw and guttural and quite possibly the most incredible sound you had ever heard. You wanted to hear it over and over again, so you hollowed your cheeks and took him even deeper until the tip of his cock was pressing against the back of your throat. He growled out your name as you eased back up, gentle and torturous, heaven and hell. You gradually worked your way up to a steady pace, one hand coming up to stroke the base of his cock, the other scratching lines into his thighs as he shivered under your touch. You could easily overpower a man twice your weight and a foot taller than your small stature, but nothing would ever make you feel as powerful as reducing this archetype of masculinity to putty in your hands.

You felt his fingers work their way into your hair, gently tugging you off of his cock. You sat back with a whine and he simply winked in response, moving to switch spots with you. He slid your shorts and panties off your legs before gently taking one foot in his hands to kiss your ankle, his beard deliciously scraping against your skin as he worked his way up your calf until your knee was hooked over his shoulder. You arched your hips upward, hoping to entice him to put his mouth where you so desperately needed his attention, but he placed one firm hand against your stomach, holding you down, taking his own sweet time working his way towards your core, your eyes fluttering shut at the onslaught of sensation.

"Y/N," he growled softly, deep voice bringing you out of your reverie. You picked your head up to find his gaze locked on yours, the sight of his lust blown pupils and reddened lips causing your breath to come out in sharp pants. "Eyes on me."

Your mouth fell open emitting a high pitched keen at the command seconds before his tongue slipped past your folds, forcing you to bite your lip to stay alert and obey him. "Fuck, Court," you moaned unabashedly, fisting your hand in his hair and trying to bring him impossibly closer.

"That’s my good girl," he praised softly as his fingers replaced his tongue and his lips moved to suck on your clit, the heady combination of his words and the way he was expertly working your body causing you to clench around him. The pads of his fingers gently massaged your walls as his tongue swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves, your fingers sharply tugging at his short strands of hair in response to his assault of your senses. You called out his name in a whine as the familiar promise of ecstasy bloomed in your lower stomach, your legs beginning to shake with the pressure of trying to hold back your impending orgasm.

"Stop fighting it," he mumbled against your clit, the rumbling vibration of his voice sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. "You’re safe with me, you can let go." A single tear trickled out of the corner of your eye at the intensity of it all and the force of his words; you couldn’t remember the last time you had let your body relax, let your muscles unwind, let yourself simply feel.

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, and Court allowed his thumb to take over for his mouth so he could kiss you freely. Maintaining a steady pace with his fingers as his thumb languidly circled your button, he brought his other hand up to grip your chin, swallowing down your moans as you scraped your nails along his back and finally gave yourself permission to let go.

Stars exploded behind your eyes and you pulled back to catch your breath as Court gradually slowed his movements, drawing out your orgasm. Cupping his cheeks between your hands, you pulled him down so you could trail your teeth up his throat and along his jaw, ending with a searing kiss.

Letting your leg slide off his shoulder, you patted the space next to you to indicate he should lie down. The head of his cock brushed against your still sensitive pussy as he shifted his weight back and you whimpered at the contact. Unwilling to wait any longer, you straddled his lap and ground your hips down against his as soon as he was settled, his thick cock easily sliding through your slick folds. "Y/N," he gritted out, curling his fingers around your throat and squeezing ever so lightly causing your eyelids to flutter shut, "don’t tease."

You lifted your hips just enough to guide the head of his cock to your entrance, then lowered yourself inch by inch, allowing your body to adjust to his size. Your head fell back, mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut at the exquisite stretch, just on the border between pain and pleasure. You rested your palms against Court’s pecs, grounding yourself in reality and feeling his hands come up to cover your own. He squeezed your hands gently and you opened your eyes to find his locked on yours, his cheeks flushed, lips parted letting out soft pants of air. Beautiful.

The blush decorating his cheeks darkened and he mumbled, “You think so?”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled in response, the vibration rumbling from his chest through his body to where you were intimately connected, forcing you to suck in a sharp breath at the sensation.

You leaned down to kiss each of his tattoos, then his burn marks, then his scars, and finally his lips as you lifted your hips before dropping back down, slipping your tongue into his mouth as he moaned.

His lips curved upward in a smile at your little power play which ended as soon as his fingers worked their way around your throat once more. He swallowed your high pitched whine as he won the battle for dominance, mapping out the sensitive areas of your mouth as he planted his feet on the bed and rocked his hips up against you. His grunts and your mewling blanketed the sound of skin slapping skin as you met him beat for beat, his heart steadily thrumming under your fingertips as you clawed at his chest.

His pace became almost brutal as he fucked up into you, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. For once, you welcomed the bruises that you would no doubt wake up to tomorrow.

"Court," you panted, feeling him twitch inside you and sensing that he was close, "I want you to cum inside me."

"Y/N-" he began protesting, ever the gentleman despite the way he was absolutely ravaging your body.

"Please," your voice caught as his head brushed against your cervix, stealing the very breath from your lungs. "Remind me that we’re still human, that we still have feelings," you begged, leaning down to mark his neck so that he, too, would have a reminder of you in the days to come.

Your teeth grazed against his pulse point, causing his hips to stutter and pushing him over the edge as he called out your name, his hand splaying across your belly so that his thumb could rub your clit and send you hurtling into oblivion right behind him.

You kept your hips moving as you kissed him again, neither of you wanting or willing to move.

He brushed your hair back from your sweaty forehead, smiling at you as you tucked your face into the crook of his neck. "Was that enough feeling or do you need more? Cause we’ve got all night."

You snorted out a laugh against his skin, his fingers trailing along your spine and his warm chuckle like a blanket on a cold winter’s night.

Not one to back down from banter you countered, "Give me some more feeling and I’ll make a shirt- I survived sex with Sierra Six!"

"Smartass."

"I win," you hummed contentedly, running your nails along his beard as you pressed gentle kisses to his jaw.

Your phone buzzed nearby followed by a string of incessant notifications on his own device, effectively breaking your spell. With his lips against your forehead he mumbled sadly, "Duty calls."

You checked your new assignments and dressed in silence, the two of you slinging your go bags over your shoulders before walking to the door. He stopped with his fingers on the handle, catching you by surprise with one last sweet kiss. You let your thumb trace along his lips, committing them to memory before you both crossed the threshold of your sanctuary, returning to the real world.

After parting ways at the end of the hall, you abruptly turned on your heel and called out, "Court?"

He looked over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, eyebrow raised in question.

"What if I need my cavalry again?"

His eyes lit up and his mouth morphed into a familiar smirk. "I’ll find you."

"I could be halfway across the world tomorrow, how will you even know where to look?"

"Trust me, I’ll find you."

Satisfied with his response, you indulged in a smile. "Be careful out there, old timer."

He winked at you in return. "Make sure to watch your Six."

#sierra six #sierra six smut #sierra six x reader #sierra six x y/n #sierra six x you #court gentry #courtland gentry #court gentry x reader #court gentry x y/n #court gentry x you #courtland gentry x reader #courtland gentry x y/n #the gray man #court gentry smut #court gentry x female reader #Sierra six x female reader #assassin!reader #agent!reader

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forhappysake · 3 months

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We're Okay

A/N - Guys idk where this came from. I guess I'm just feeling emotional and inspired.

Content - After JJ admits her decade-long love for Spencer, you and your boyfriend have to have a conversation to calm both of your doubts and fears.

Warnings: spencer reid x fem!reader, season 14 spoilers, anxiety, mentions of typical BAU-level crime stuff, fluff at the end

You walked in the door slowly, cautionary even; afraid the smallest noise would bring reality crashing down on you. The car ride home had been completely silent, as neither of you bothered to turn on the radio. Spencer shuffled in behind you, the click of the lock making you wince as you did your best to avoid his gaze. You stripped off your coat, throwing it over the couch before walking straight into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind you.

As you started the shower and stripped off your clothes, the evening’s events rushed back into your mind. Being involved in a hostage situation with an unstable unsub was one thing. JJ being held at gunpoint was worse. However, as if all that wasn’t enough, JJ admitting her decade-long hidden love for Spencer was the final nail in the coffin. As you climbed into the shower, you did your best to let the water wash away the thoughts running through your head.

Unfortunately, your attempt was unsuccessful. As you dried off and wrapped yourself in a towel, your mind raced. You’d been dating Spencer for nearly a year and a half. The two of you had just recently moved in together. Having known him and JJ for at least half a decade, you knew they were close, but you never would have guessed this was coming. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way she did. If so, what did this mean for your relationship?

After stalling in the bathroom for so long that goosebumps dotted your freshly dried body, you mustered up the courage to slip out of the bathroom and into the bedroom that you shared with Spencer. As you walked across the hallway, you could see his silhouette sitting on the living room couch, head bent forward. You couldn’t tell if he was reading or in deep thought, but you decided that either option was better than the alternative: trying to have a conversation.

You snuck into the bedroom, gently turning on the bedroom light and letting your eyes adjust to the warm glow of your room. You meandered to the closet, pulling out a simple t-shirt and shorts to sleep in. Slipping into your pajamas and stealing a glance at yourself in the vanity mirror, you noticed one of the many images covering the tabletop.

A framed photograph from less than a year ago of JJ, Will, Spencer, and yourself with the boys on a weekend hiking trip. You felt a pang of guilt in your chest and wondered if Will had any idea what was going on in JJ’s head. You shook the thought away, reminding yourself that you had bigger problems of your own to deal with. You turned back to the bed, sliding under the covers and turning off the light. Despite your distress, you were exhausted and you found yourself losing track of time and drifting off to sleep in mere minutes.

* * *

You awoke to the sound of the bedroom door latching shut. You rolled over, blinking your eyes open in an attempt to sneak a peak at your bedside alarm clock. You’d already been asleep for three hours and Spencer was just now coming to bed. It was well after midnight, and you knew that meant he had been up thinking about something. You figured it would be best not to push the subject after everything that had happened.

With your eyes shut, you waited to feel the familiar sensation of Spencer climbing into bed. Instead, you felt his weight at the foot of the bed, as if he had perched himself on the end. You tried not to think much of this and did your best to fake sleep. However, it soon became apparent that Spencer was on to you.

“I know you’re awake,” he said gently. His voice was gruff from the hours he’d spent in silence. Spencer waited before speaking again, “I think we should talk about what happened.”

There it is, you thought. Your stomach sank as your eyes fluttered open. You rolled over to face him, leaning up on your arms. It was then you noticed that he was still in his suit. His unkempt hair fell over his eyes and you couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the disheveled man in front of you. “Alright,” you relented, still refusing to meet his eyes, “what do you want to talk about?”

Spencer rolled his neck, tension evident in his movements. “I want to know how you feel about what was said earlier,” he said. For the first time in hours, you met his eyes, trying to gauge his sincerity. You found no signs of dishonesty, so you fell back on the bed, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“I don’t know, Spencer,” you groaned. “I definitely was surprised. I definitely wasn’t thrilled.” Spencer nodded, moving some hair away from his eyes as you spoke. “But,” you started again, “it’s not like we can go back and change it now.”

He reached an arm out, putting a hand over the covers on top of your knee. “I know,” he whispered, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You scoffed a bit at his sincerity and his innocence, meeting his eyes once more. “And how do you feel about it?” you asked.

Spencer bit his lip in thought. You could tell you had caught him off guard with the question, and he seemed to be calculating his response. “Can I be honest with you?” he said.

You raised your eyebrows, the nervous feeling in your stomach intensifying. Is this where he tells you he feels the same way and leaves for good? You pushed your thoughts to the side. “Always,” you whispered.

He sighed, laying back on the bed so he was next to you. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and you wanted nothing more than to curl into his warmth. You knew this wasn’t the time, so you held yourself back and held your breath, awaiting his response.

“First, I was confused,” Spencer explained, eyes locked on the ceiling. “I haven’t thought about JJ like that in over ten years. Frankly, I never knew she thought of me that way, so I was caught off-guard.”

So he did have a crush on her at one time, you thought. You were ready to close your eyes in defeat, to slip off the bed and out of the apartment and never come back when he cleared his throat.

“But then,” he started once more, “I had a quick epiphany of all the moments she’d gone out of her way for me, and I could understand where she was coming from.” You turned to look at him, watching his eyes scan the ceiling as he tried to come up with his next statements.

“And?” you asked, prompting him to continue.

“And then,” he continued your previous statement, “I was terribly appalled.”

Your head, which had turned to the ceiling, snapped back in his direction. You felt your eyebrows raise and your jaw drop open a bit in surprise. “Appalled?” you asked, confusion evident in your expression.

“Appalled,” Spencer echoed, sitting up on the edge of the bed once more and looking back at you.

“Why?” you asked.

Spencer shook his head, looking around the room. “I’ve been thinking about that for the last couple hours, and I’ve come up with a lot of reasons,” he mused. “I know she was in a tight place, but Will deserves better than that. The boys deserve better than that. But aside from them,” he leaned over on the bed, intertwining his fingers with yours, “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you must have thought. I was so afraid of your reaction and of losing you.”

Despite your evident emotional state as tears pooled in your eyes, you tried to play it off. “Spencer, this isn’t about me,” you reminded him.

“Yes,” he said, lying next to you, “it is.” Spencer ran a hand through his hair, pulling some curls out of his eyes. “Everyone knows how much I love you. I know how scary something like this can be. But you have to know that I have no idea where this came from and that anything JJ and I had died, on my end, long before I ever met you.”

You glanced over at him, the sincerity in his voice had moved you to believe him. For a moment, you forgot about JJ and Will, the boys, and the implications of her words. You offered his fingers a small squeeze. “So we’re okay?” you asked in a tiny voice.

“More than,” Spencer whispered.

He rolled on his side to face you and you mirrored his actions. He wrapped his arms tight around your body, the textured material of his suit jacket pressed against your cheek. A gentle kiss was pressed to your forehead and you found yourself falling back into sleep. After several minutes passed, you felt Spencer’s voice rumble through his chest for a final time before he succumbed to sleep: “Ever since I met you,” he mumbled, smoothing some stray hairs away from your face, “it’s always been you.”

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thelvrsera · 3 months

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HEADCANNONS + DRABBLES♟️

remember to use ♟️to send a request for The Good, The Bad, and The Chosen

the agent shutting down Jimmy ♟️

larry questioning jimmy about his history w/ the agent ♟️

james being moody after only being referred to as "Keene"♟️

#the good the bad and the chosen #x reader #black bird #jimmy keene x reader #taron egerton x reader #fanfic #jimmy keene x fem!reader #taron egerton #x female reader #x fem!reader #x female y/n #agent!reader

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notafunkiller · 2 months

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she chose me

Summary: Steve's hopes get crushed when he wrongly assumes you'd choose him over Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x agent!female reader

Warnings: 18+, no condom (but f is on birth control), teasing, pet names, jealousy, sergeant + sir + daddy kìnk, vibranium arm kìnk, language, degrading, praising, no mention of y/n etc.

Word Count: 6.9K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you’ll enjoy it! This was inspired by the "She chose me." TikTok trend.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

You’re all quiet, watching the back and forth between Cap and Bucky. Not even Sam intervenes.

“You didn’t-”

“This is just not gonna work, Buck.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, with an expression you like to describe as bitchy. He’s so sassy without even intending to, and you wonder how bitchier he’d be if this wasn’t his best friend talking.

“Let’s see if people agree.”

He looks around waving at you and the rest of the team while Sam just snorts, covering his mouth with his hand.

But you’re not amused because you have no idea how to handle this diplomatically.

“Whose side are you on?” Steve’s tone is deep and authoritative, making you feel a little uneasy.

You don’t know how to talk to Avengers sometimes. You are on friendly terms, even when you train. Sam always cracks jokes, Steve shares stories and gives advice, and Bucky is Bucky. Nat and Sam call him The Machine for a reason. But he’s a really good professor and an even better observer. He pays attention to every recruit and remembers what they need to work on. You find him extra intimidating because he’s also the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. No exaggeration. And it’s not in the usual clean and golden boy way you are used to, anyway. He’s been through shit and it’s showing in the way he carries himself and doesn’t talk much when it’s not needed.

But you pay attention too, and this is why you think you were chosen to lead the recruits for this mission. You are on good terms with the Avengers, and Bucky probably approved the idea of working with you because you didn’t piss him off like most do. You know he hates chit chat, you learned how to read most of his stares and to not take it personally when he makes remarks about your fighting skills. They’re not your strongest asset, but you have a flair and you come up with the best solutions under pressure. You managed to pin him down once for a few seconds, and that is probably your greatest achievement.

But in moments like this, you don’t know how to say things without upsetting one side.

“You won’t get in trouble, don’t worry,” Bucky adds confidently. You’re not surprised when four out of your six colleagues agree with Bucky. They explain quickly why, emphasizing how much faster and efficient it would be if you followed that route, but their voices are still trembling. And you get it. Telling Captain America to his face you prefer his best friend’s plan over his will always be a risk. But if he gets mad, that says more about him as a leader than about anyone else.

Sam raises his hands in the air defensively, probably enjoying this as a show, but based on the looks he shares with Bucky, it seems like he agrees with him too.

You try to find your words, knowing you’re the last one from your team to speak, but before you can even open your mouth, Steve already smiles, pointing at you with his index finger. “Look at this, though! She agrees with me… She chose me.”

His grin is cold and a little arrogant. What you don’t notice, though, is the intention Steve had when he decided to use those exact words, but Bucky does. And he clenches his jaw at the same time his vibranium hand curls into a fist; a silent response to the not-so-innocent assumption that Steve made.

After a few seconds, Bucky leans in, his gaze steady and confident. “Did she?”

There is no way you would pick Steve’s plan. You are too smart and you have too much integrity to pick his side just to kiss his ass. He raises an eyebrow at you this time, a confident smirk forming on his lips. “Did you really choose him? You really think his plan would work better, doll?”

You feel surrounded by Bucky… attacked even. Your cheeks are getting hotter, too, and you know there is nothing you can do to hide your redness. Doll… He called you that when he turned you again on your back the day you managed to pin him down. It’s something about the way he says it that makes it absolutely deadly. Your first instinct was to be offended, but you reminded yourself he is a man born in 1917. He lived his twenties in the 40s, and doll was used as slang for sweetheart.

Taking a deep breath, you tilt your head slightly, directing your response to Steve. “It’s not about choosing sides, but considering all perspectives for the best outcome. And your plan, Captain, has its strengths, but I’m inclined to agree with Sergeant Bucky.” You bite your lip. “It’s about finding the most effective strategy for the mission, not a personal preference of any kind.”

Steve’s smile falls off, but your attention shifts back to Bucky’s grin that lightens up his face.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Well, then,” Steve sighs. “Can I have a word with you in private?”

You don’t realize he’s speaking to you until he says your name.

Surprised, you jump. “Yes, of course.”

Steve leans back in his chair, a slight smile playing on his lips as you write down the last details. “You know, I value your insights on the mission.”

You look surprised because how can he value your opinion when this is your second mission only? He’s Captain America!

“Oh?”

“I trust your judgment, and your training is going great. If you and the team chose Bucky’s plan, then we do it.” You see his jaw clench, though, so you know it’s not easy for him to say it. Even if it’s his friend… interesting. “Maybe, when all is over, we could grab a cup of coffee and talk about other things. What do you think?”

You’re silent for a couple of seconds, trying to realize if he means it in the way you think he is. There is no way, right?

Just in case, you offer him a friendly smile, “Thanks, Cap! I value our teamwork too. Coffee sounds great after. It could be a good way for all of us to unwind as a team.”

He nods, sighing. “I’m glad you’re on board. I’m looking forward to that coffee, even if it’s with the whole team. And please, call me Steve.”

So he was flirting…

“Thank you,” you pause as you stand up. “I’m gonna talk with Sergeant Barnes so we can get things ready for tomorrow. Have a good night, Steve!”

You knock only three times before the door opens and a Bucky dressed in shorts and a white tank top lets you in with a smirk.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you nod as you take a step inside his bedroom. He only stays here before and after missions when he is too tired to go to his apartment, so you don’t expect to see any personal objects there except for a few clothes.

“What happened to Bucky?”

You look at him surprised, tightening your hold on the tablet you are holding.

What?

“Sir?”

Bucky closes his eyes for a second. “Earlier, during the meeting, you called me Sergeant Bucky.”

Shit!

Maybe you should start calling him Sergeant Barnes in your head as well to avoid these fucks up. You feel so embarrassed that you want to disappear. You don’t want him to think you disrespect him in any way. His rank carries a lot of weight and trauma.

You clear your throat, slightly flustered. “My apologies, Sergeant Barnes. It won’t happen again, sir.” You offer him an apologetic smile while trying very hard to maintain a professional tone.

Bucky’s smirk softens as he places his flesh hand on your shoulder. You feel your legs transforming into jelly.

“My point was, doll, there is no need to be so formal. We’re off-duty here, and titles aren’t necessary. Just call me Bucky.”

“Alright, Bucky,” you smile. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but I came to discuss the plan for tomorrow. I talked to Steve and we agreed it would be wise for you to lead the way as Mr. Wilson-”

“Steve?” Bucky interrupts before you can finish your sentence. He doesn’t even bother to look at your tablet, either.

“Yes, we talked in the office.”

“No, I get that. But you call him Steve? What happened to Cap?” Bucky knows that might sound really childish, but he can’t help it. What is Steve trying to do?

Was it some kind of test? Did you misunderstand everything with Steve?

“Oh, Cap allowed me to call him Steve earlier. I am sorry if it sounded disrespectful.”

He squeezes your shoulder even before moving his hand to your chin, raising your face, and you feel yourself blushing again.

The blue of his eyes is so intense that you can’t see how anyone would be able to survive it.

“You apologize too much, doll. I don’t like it.”

You can’t breathe. “Sor-” You pause, realizing he is right. Apologizing is second nature to you. It feels wrong when you don’t, and you do it without even thinking about it. “I guess I do that a lot. I’ll work on it, Bucky.”

“I’m not your teacher right now, doll.” He smiles, letting go of your chin. “Just remember, we’re not all about formalities here. Relax a bit.”

Easier said than done. But you need to keep it together and ignore the urge to grab his face and finally kiss him. So you focus on talking about the mission and the members of the team. You talk about all of your colleagues, and Bucky helps you take notes. He switched so easily from friendly to the sergeant mode, which is fascinating.

He explains step by step your positions, the way things are gonna happen and even two back up plans. Two!

You’re not overwhelmed by the amount of information, but you’re quite surprised by how much he talks and how well he answers every possible question any of you could have. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak for more than a few seconds continuously so you try to focus on every word.

Only when he finishes and you close your tablet after sending everyone the plan, do you see him relaxing again.

With a smirk, he asks you, “How did Steve take it?”

“He was fine with the plan, even suggested if we feel like doing it, to get one or two more members. But based on what you said, we won’t need it.”

“He has a point, of course, but if you said you don’t think you need it, good.” You try not to stare at his lips as he speaks, but it’s so hard. “And I meant how he took that you chose my plan. That you chose me.”

You meet Bucky’s gaze, trying to keep your composure, “Steve seemed more than okay with it from what I saw. He values the team’s decision. Plus, it’s not about choosing sides, and-”

“And not a personal preference of any kind,” he interrupts just to quote you, and you don’t know if you should feel flattered he remembers word by word or to prepare yourself for a negative reaction. To be honest, your head is spinning and him being so close makes it worse. “I heard you very well, but I’m curious…”

He extends his hand and carefully tucks your hair behind your ears. You swear you can hear your own heartbeat going crazy. And if you do, so does he.

“About what?”

“Would the answer be different if it was about personal preferences, doll? Would you choose him?”

You freeze. You are simply in shock because this cannot happen to you. From Steve asking you out earlier to your crush basically doing this. You’re confused and a little tired, but you didn’t imagine all of this. Does Bucky want you? Is that it?

You take a deep breath praying you won’t choke on the words. “In a hypothetical scenario based on personal preferences, Bucky, I would still not pick him.”

Your voice is trembling, but you maintain eye contact even after admitting it. You didn’t choose Bucky’s plan because of your crush, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or exposed. He’s the one who let you call him Bucky, who touched you and asked you that. You don’t know if he counts romance as a personal preference, but there is an urge inside you to find out. You wonder how he’d taste, if he’d kiss you back if you kissed him first, how your mission would be if you crossed the line. Your thoughts are foggy.

“So you’d choose me.”

You clear your throat. “Yes.”

“Over Captain America.” His grin is so boyish and cute that it makes you smile. He looks younger and less… burdened when he gets like this. Bucky chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Well, well, well. Looks like I got someone not kissing Captain America’s ass for a change. That’s really rare. You’re a naughty one, aren’t you?”

You mask your gasp with a cough, deciding to play along, a sly grin forming on your face. “Maybe I just have a thing for underdogs.”

Bucky’s eyes light up with amusement to your annoyance but also excitement, and he leans in, taking the tablet from your hand and placing it on the floor without a care. “Underdogs, huh? Ouch, that hurt a little. I thought I was your favorite super-soldier.”

You can’t help but giggle, feeling enough encouragement from his reaction to touch his vibranium arm just to feel it. You got the chance to do it only for a couple of seconds and it always fascinated you, especially the golden pattern. The fact he can feel everything because it’s connected to his nerves is insane to you. It probably is to him too. “Oh, you are. And my favorite teacher too. But a little competition never hurts, Sergeant Barnes.”

You can see he feigns offense. “Competition, huh?” Bucky’s playfulness turns into a serious tone as he adds, “Well, let me show you why I’m the only choice.”

And without warning, he closes the distance between you and kisses you.

You gasp, taken aback, but you bring your hands to his face and hip before you deepen the kiss. He’s not as gentle as you expected, his left arm flying to your ass and bringing your hips closer to his immediately.

You moan when you feel his hard on so close to your pussy, and tug on his hair a little.

“Aren’t you a naughty girl?” He lowers his lips to your jaw. “I could basically smell how wet you got earlier as soon as I called you doll. And so did Steve.”

You want to open your eyes and tell him to stop talking about his friend. You don’t want to be turned off, but he already continues.

“He thought he stood a chance with my girl.”

“Your girl?” You whimper when his teeth graze your neck before his tongue licks on the spot. He intends to leave a mark, you have no doubt, and you absolutely love it.

“Mine.” His whisper makes you shiver. “I want to mark you. The thought of having you covered in hickeys during the mission makes me so hard it almost hurts. Gonna show everyone you belong to me.”

“Do I belong to you, Sergeant Barnes?” You take a step back but let your hand linger on his chest teasingly. “Because I don’t remember you asking me to dinner.”

Bucky grins. “Dinner is a classic move, and I adapted very well to the present. But of course I can stop with the kisses right now, and we can have some late dinner.”

You roll your eyes at his unbelievably good answer. Fucker!

“This is not what I meant, Barnes, and you know it.”

“I don’t know it. But I want to know something else.”

You don’t even doubt he means something dirty because it’s too obvious.

“Like what?”

“Like how your pretty pussy tastes while you come all over my face.”

You gasp at the no-filter words. You’re so used to Steve’s warning you to use proper language, that you did not expect it.

“I thought men your age were all about being proper and refined… Don’t they teach subtlety in the 40s etiquette class or did you skip it?”

You tease him on purpose, and he knows it. You are well aware what a nerd he was in school. Such a nerd that it was displayed in the museum. You snort. You were a nerd too, so you love it.

Bucky chuckles, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he brings his hands to your pants, unzipping them without warning. Holy. Shit. The way you love this. He reads your body language very well and he has his super soldier senses.

“Well, doll, proper and refined went out the window with the 40s, right? Because otherwise you’d not be standing here letting me undress you.”

You raise your eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement on your face. His energy is so light, and he looks like a man without a worry in moments like this.

“You’re the one who offered to show me what the little upgraded version of you can do, after all.” You take off your shoes before pulling down your pants as soon as he drags them to your ankles. You can’t believe you’re about to fuck James Bucky Barnes! “Why would I say no?”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride, doll. Gonna make sure you have the time of your life.”

You snort, amused by his eagerness, and decide to take off your shirt yourself to see his reaction. And he doesn’t disappoint.

He grins like a child, his hands flying straight to your back without taking his eyes off your chest. And before you know it, your bra is on the floor and Bucky cups your breasts, bringing your left tit to his mouth.

If you gasped when you felt the cold touch of the vibranium, now you moan loudly, enjoying the way he licks around your skin. He avoids your nipple on purpose, so you decide to take matters into your own hands quite literally and get a grab of the top of his hair, forcing him to suck on your nipple.

“Fuck! I didn’t expect you to be so whorish,” you say without realizing, and you feel his snort and breath on the wet patch he left with his tongue.

Bucky’s grin turns into a sly smirk. “This is what you call whorish? I guess I’ll give you an experience you won’t ever forget.”

“Talk less, do more.”

You want to enjoy more of this. You have a mission in a few hours, and it might be just a one time thing anyway since he is Bucky Barnes. You don’t want to get your hopes high.

Bucky lets go of your breast with a pop and moves up, raising your head so he can kiss you.

It’s electrifying, and desperate, and not enough. You move your hands to the bottom hem of his tank top and lift it, interrupting the kiss so you can take it off completely. You just want to feel him, all of him.

You step back for a second, wanting to look at him properly, but you notice a change in his eyes that he, of course, tries to mask.

“Why are you nervous? You look like a fucking god! I should be nervous here.”

Bucky’s eyes flicker with vulnerability.

“I guess I’m not used to someone seeing my scars or my,” he waves toward his vibranium arm, and you frown.

“I will sound totally weird, but they all make you really cool, Serge.” You trace down a few scars when you see he is completely relaxed and continue. “Do I have to lick them all to make you believe me?”

You move your hands under his shorts before he can answer, though, finally touching his cock. You both moan at the feeling. He’s hard and thick, and the head is wet. You bring your fingers to his lips, smearing some of the precome before leaning in to suck it off.

You’re not prepared for his moan or for the way he attacks your mouth, and definitely not for him to snap your underwear using his flesh hand. Not even his vibranium one!

You moan into his mouth. He makes you feel like you’re floating and you need to fuck him right then.

“You’re not just whorish, you’re a whore!” You pause when you feel his fingers close to your entrance. “No wonder why you didn’t belong in the 40s.” Then you move, allowing him to touch you. You don’t realize what you said, and when you do, in the middle of dragging his shorts down, you curse yourself in your mind. It sounds like the most disrespectful thing ever. This man’s fate was changed by monsters who cryogenically freezing him and brainwashing him, and you are selfishly talking as if he belonged to you. “I’m sorry that was awful of-” But he interrupts you before you can get a chance to properly apologize.

“You like that, don’t you?”

A wave of shame surges through your body. Your cheeks are burning.

“I’m really sorry,” you take your hands off his shorts and look away, not even peaking at his cock. You ruined it, didn’t you? “I will just go.”

Bucky shakes his head, puffing. “For such an amazing agent, you’re not a good room reader, are you?”

Your eyes finally drop to his cock, which you’ve been trying to avoid in the last minute out of shame, but there’s no need anymore since he’s teasing you. He’s just a bit longer than average, and he’s really thick, and the veins do not make it ugly at all. You are curious how it’d feel in your hand, how much it’d twitch, how Bucky would moan.

“You aren’t a good room reader, either then, Barnes, since I’m not getting dicked down and my hair pulled, am I?”

Something snaps in him, and it’s visible in his eyes. You don’t know what to expect so you just watch him. But you can’t. He is so quick that, despite your crazy training, you don’t anticipate his move. His hand wraps around the hair from your nape and fists it hard enough for you to move along with him.

“Wanna be dicked down? Fine by me, get on your hands and knees.”

You’re surprised, of course you are, but his tone is firm and you find yourself nodding and doing what he told you. You know you can say no; there is nothing in Bucky’s energy that makes you feel unsafe or as if you have no choice.

At the same time, he lets go of your hair just so he can take off his shorts completely.

“Are you not gonna make sure I’m wet enough for you?” You ask when you see him getting closer to you again, even though you are very wet. You just want to push his buttons.

“I can smell you if I focus on it, let me remind you.” He smiles. “I know you’re soaked, and you wanna be dicked down. Or are you backing off?”

Challenging prick!

You roll your eyes. “I’m not scared of your dick.”

“Good, because he wants to be friends with you.”

You close your eyes, cringing. “God, you were this close to turning me off.” You raise your hand in the air, putting your weight on the left one as you bring your thumb and index finger close to each other to show him exactly what a thin line this was.

Bucky laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you forget it in a second.”

Your first instinct is to want to tease him about the second remark, to ask him if this is how long he can last, but you’re too horny now. And you also need rest for the mission tomorrow.

“How, uh…” You pause not knowing how to ask this properly. “Can you, uh, make babies?” You cringe at your words. “I mean, widows can’t… and I just wanted to know if we need a condom to be extra careful since you might be extra fertile because I am on the pill and I have no idea how sex with a super sold-”

Bucky’s lips press against yours suddenly, making you stop talking.

“Breathe.”

“I’m breathing,” you whisper and he cups your face.

“Not enough. We can use a condom if you want, but I’ll need to check where I can find one. Or we can go bare if you trust me… I can pull out and you are already protected, so there shouldn’t be a problem, I think.” He pauses to kiss your lips again. “But we can still use a condom anyway to be extra careful as you said.”

You frown at that, suddenly more desperate to feel him bare than ever before.

“No, I trust you. I have never done it without a condom before, and I assume you didn’t have much time to uh… have sex.”

Bucky snorts amused. “Now why do you assume that?”

“You look like you haven’t been fucked since 1945.”

The fact he doesn’t even deny it makes you feel even bolder, so you reach for his cock and place your thumb on his wet head while wrapping the rest of your hand around the length. “Are you gonna even last for a second once you’re inside me, Sergeant Barnes?” You snort when you see him trying to hold back his moan by biting his lip. It makes you feel happy. “Or do you even manage to get inside me before- ahh!” He is predictable this time as he pulls your hair, so you laugh.

“Are you familiar with this whole red, yellow, green color code?”

You gasp. “Yes, read about it, never needed it. But how do you know that?”

“I read about it, too.” His grin is so wide and beautiful that you melt again.

“Quite naughty of you, Serge. Reading dirty books. Needed some ideas?”

Bucky smirks, kissing you again and again. “Gonna need a review after I finish with you.”

“You finishing with me?” You smile. “Big words, Barnes, but no action.”

He knows you challenge him, and you don’t try to hide it. Do you have to beg for his cock for him to finally fuck you? He is edging you on purpose at this point.

You let out a whimper in anticipation when he moves behind you.

“Are you sure you’re fine with no condom?”

“Ihm, I’m not ovulating anyway,” you whisper, trying not to sound too eager. But you are. You want to get dicked down, indeed. And you wanted it for months.

His silence makes you a bit nervous, but the sounds of him dropping to his knees behind you, followed by his hand grabbing his cock and positioning it at your entrance while squeezing your hip with the metal arm.

You love the sensation of the coldness, but you love even more when he leans in to kiss your back before he pushes inside you.

It takes two tries, though, for him to be able to push halfway inside you because you kept pushing his dick out of you instantly. You managed to take him only when he brought his fingers to your clit and rubbed a bit.

You still laughed though because the sounds were too funny and his little frustrated whimpers were hilarious. The amusement turns quickly into more horniness when you feel him stretching you without even being fully inside you. You dreamed and daydreamed about it… fantasized about it, but it still wasn’t even close to how it actually feels. How full it feels. It’s like you cannot even think, your body is weak.

“Fuck,” your voice is cracking. “Deeper.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” he whispers.

“So?” You bring your hand to his ass, trying to show him you really need it deeper. “Why do you make it sound like a bad thing? Or are you trying not to come, Mr. Super Soldier?”

“You have quite a mouth on you, I think you need it-”

“You talk way too much. Are you nervous or-” It’s his turn to interrupt you with a thrust. Such a deep thrust your head is spinning. He’s not fully inside you, you realize, but he doesn’t try to, instead, he starts to fuck you, taking your breath away. His fingers leave your clit, grabbing your hips with both hands.

There is no question anymore, just fucking as you wanted.

And it feels like heaven. You try to keep your eyes open just so you look at him over your shoulder, but it’s impossible.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You groan. “No, you did, n-now fuck me harder.”

“Well, well,” he slows down and you almost wanna die. “This is not how you talk to your Sergeant, is it?”

He can’t do this!

“Fuck you!”

“What does my baby want?” His thrusts are too slow and teasing, just like his voice. “Use your words, beg for it.”

You’re not turned off, surprisingly. Not at all, on the contrary, the firm tone he uses, the words… you’re getting hornier, if that is even possible.

“I love your cock, Sergeant, so please give it to me. Fuck me harder and faster. Need you to pull my hair, and choke me, and… be rough.” You would be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate. You know he wouldn’t make fun of you for this, so you trust him.

“Only mine.” You take a deep breath relieved when you feel his right hand wrap around your hair. “Do you hear me? Answer me.”

You nod, unable to say anything because he starts to thrust hard and fast, just like he did before he stopped. Your tits are jumping at the impact, and you have to dig your toes into the floor.

“Use your words. If you want my,” he moans. “If you want my cock and my hand wrapped around your neck, you have to use your big girl words. Tell me you’re only mine.”

You can’t hold back your tears this time. You love it so much, you can’t believe you waited so long to have him.

“Only yours.”

“No Steve.”

He lets go of your hair, wrapping his hand around your neck. No pressure, not moving it, he’s just holding it there.

“There’s n-no Steve, Sergeant. Only you. My pussy belongs to you. I o-only want to get filled by you.”

You know he’s smiling without needing to look at him.

“You love your Sergeant’s cock, don’t you?” You have no idea how he’s able to speak while thrusting so hard. He’s a fucking robot, indeed. “No one else could give you this, no matter how much they tried.”

You feel the building in your core. You’re so, so close already, so you try to place your weight on only one hand and bring the other to cover his, and before he can say something, you encourage him to choke you by pressing his fingers on the sides of your neck.

You moan so loudly you surprise even yourself. You sound like a cat.

“Please, sergeant, please, choke me.” You repeat your move and you close your eyes. “Please, daddy, I’m so c-close.”

He pauses for a second, and you don’t know why.

Before you can ask what’s wrong, he doesn’t just start to thrust inside you again, he dicks you down just the way you wanted. It’s as if he fucks the air out of your lungs every time you exhale. You’re crying and screaming at this point, so loud the whole floor must hear you. But you’re not ashamed. You feel so close you can almost taste it.

You barely hear his whimpers, but they’re there and they’re so beautiful.

You get no warning when he decides to squeeze the sides of your neck: gently at first, but then? Perfect. So perfect you come without warning, not being able to even say his name. You just scream some nonsense, your hand dropping from his to the floor so you can ground yourself properly. Your whole body is burning, and burning, and burning, coming alive for what feels like an eternity.

He doesn’t wait even for a second after you come down from your orgasm. Instead, he gets his dick out of you, grabbing you by your ass and raising you in his arms. Still weak, you barely have the strength to wrap your legs around his waist and your hands around his neck. He’s sweaty but not that hot. His metal arm is making you cool down.

“Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.” His lips find your forehead and you fight the urge to kiss his neck. You feel so small in his arms… and as if no one can hurt you.

You’re smiling like a fool when your back hits his bed, and so is he. Such a beautiful, blinding smile.

You let him spread your legs before you drag his face down so you can kiss him. You bite his lip hard until he opens his mouth, moaning when you feel him entering you again. This time, you’re relaxed so he thrusts inside you so much easier.

“Gonna make you come again around your daddy’s cock..”

His hands wrap your legs around his ass when he starts to thrust again.

“You’re quite… into it, Sergeant Barnes. So dirty!”

He gently grabs your jaw. “Tongue out.”

You do it, opening your mouth and waiting, and waiting until you finally understand what he’s about to do.

Instead of being grossed out, as you expected, you eagerly swallow the saliva that he lets drip from his mouth, which lands on your tongue.

You bat your eyes as you start to move your hips to meet his thrusts halfway, and that sends him into a frenzy.

“Fucking hell, you don’t want to sleep tonight, do you?” He asks sarcastically, but you don’t have enough air to tease him with a stamina comment. “You want me to make you scream and swallow my spit and come till we have to go to that fucking mission. Till your beloved Steve needs to come to us himself and hear us covered in come but still fucking.” You moan at the idea of your teammates finding out about this. You get awful comments anyway; at least you can get him for real and rub it in their faces. “You would like that, wouldn’t ya? Having all my undivided attention on you, not caring that my best friend is mad…” The thrusts are so deep that your head falls on the pillow instantly. You cannot keep your eyes open for even a second and you’re crying again. “Not caring my pal wanted you so badly he even tried to take you out tonight.”

“Sergeant-”

Thrust after thrust. You grab his forearm as tightly as you can so you can have something to hold onto.

“He thought he could have you, that you’d choose him. Come on, love. Come on, scream my name, let them hear. Let them all hear whose cock you cry for. Who is the one you belong to.” His balls slap against your skin so hard they tickle you. But not even that can distract you from almost reaching your orgasm. His words, his cock, his possessiveness…

“Sergeant, please. No one but you, can I… c-can I touch my clit? I’m so, so close.”

You don’t have to, though, because he is quick enough to bring his flesh hand between your bodies and rub your clit just the way you need it.

“F-fuck, coming,” you manage to warn him before the pleasure hits you. It’s so overwhelming you see white, digging your nails into his forearm.

You don’t know what you call him… daddy, Bucky or sergeant, but it doesn’t matter. You hear his praise, how you’re his good girl, and his words encouraging you to come for him.

When you can focus again, you kiss him with everything you have.

“Need you to come for me, Sergeant Barnes,” you whisper between kisses. “Need you to come inside me, need you to fill me up with your come, sir.”

He hisses loudly, his eyes being more grey than blue.

“Don’t tease me.”

“I mean it,” you make eye contact, wrapping your legs tighter around him. “Not the heat of the moment. I need your come, daddy. I’m on birth-”

He kisses you so hard your teeth end up hitting, but you don’t care. This is everything.

“Gonna come, gonna give you what you want. Gonna make you my come s-slut. Is that what you needed?”

“Yes, yes.” You’re so excited to watch him finish you don’t even realize how much you like being called his come slut until he says it again. “Come on, Sergeant, come for me.”

After you say that, it only takes him two more thrusts to finish, moaning your name.

His eyes close, and you notice how pretty his eyelashes are. And the little moles on his face… his mouth semi-open and his hair in all directions.

You want to witness this every day.

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in to kiss his nose and cheeks, letting your hips move at the same time.

“C-can’t… doesn’t stop,” he manages to groan, and you bring your hand to his nape, caressing his hair as he rides out his orgasm.

When he finally finishes, though, his head falls on top of your breasts, his mouth finding your nipple and playing with it before sucking it fully into his mouth.

“Easy, Bucky,” you moan, but he keeps going, though.

You have to pull his hair, to make him stop.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but I need to uh… I’m tired.”

You’re back to your shy self. But his smile still makes you feel so relaxed.

“Got you tired, huh?” He winks, giving your breasts a kiss before pressing his lips against yours. “Fuck, I’ve never been so aroused in my entire life. Won’t even mention how happy I am.”

“Me neither,” you whisper.

“Well, we need to get used to it.”

You laugh so happily that you think your chest will explode. It’s surreal.

“You owe me that dinner after all.”

“A million dinners.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Trying to charm me?”

He pecks you one more time before getting out of you with a whimper.

“I’ve already done it.”

It’s weird to be empty like this again, but seeing your come and wetness on his pubic hair or dripping out of your pussy just to soak the sheets beneath you distracts you. You made a mess.

“We need to clean this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says distractedly as he uses his index finger to push some come back inside you. Jesus! “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You smile. “You’re a whore.”

“Your whore.” He slowly gets out of bed, grabbing his shorts from the floor.

“Want me to go?” You ask all of a sudden, gaining a confused look from him.

“Why would I want that? Unless you do, of course…” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to fix it a little. “But I want you to stay.”

“Saw you dressing.” You bring your knees up just to put your chin on top of them. You feel extra shy.

He smiles. “Just gonna get you some water. I don’t want you dehydrated.”

Bucky knew Steve was in the kitchen as soon as he went down the stairs. He smiles casually, not giving him a second look as he goes straight to the fridge. It’s not like he hasn’t seen him in shorts or shirtless before, and Bucky knows he knew exactly what happened upstairs.

“Can’t sleep?” Steve’s tone is so obvious Bucky almost laughs.

“Not sleepy yet. What about you? You’re alright, punk?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking a sip from his own glass of water; his hands tightly wrapped around the glass.

“Still mad about earlier? You know I’m right.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s all good.”

Bucky sighs dramatically. He loves Steve, he is his brother, but sometimes he is so annoying.

“Well, try to get some sleep. I suggest you wear some earplugs or something, though,” Bucky suggests casually, taking a whole bottle of water. “We wouldn’t want you too sleepy tomorrow. And the night is young.” He even winks at Steve, making him clear his throat.

“Buck…”

“Not a super soldier perk, I know, but you understand, right?” The smirk he suddenly gives Steve is almost sinister. “She chose me after all, and I gotta let her test-drive me. Have a good night!”

Even though he turns around, Bucky doesn’t miss the way Steve’s hold gets so tight that his glass almost breaks.

Bucky doesn’t regret it. He had it coming when he thought you’d choose him.

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