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nataliasquote · 1 month

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My Songbird | 1 | n romanoff

Summary: The best days of high school happen in summer and Willow doesn’t want these days to end. Life just feels sweeter this way

Warnings: homophobia (it’s set in the 70s), casual weed consumption, mentions of traditional negative parenting, underage drinking

Pairings: Natasha x Willow (O!C)

wc: 4.7k

note: the first part of the ‘My Songbird’ series! I’m so excited to get this underway just in time for spring. Whilst this does include the secret relationship between Natasha and Willow, this story will also follow Willow’s struggles of not fitting in with society and her parents’ views :)

-⧗-

There was no better feeling than this.

The wind flying through her hair that streamed behind her as she peddled faster down the street and blew the ties that held her top closed at her front. The sun was warm and kissed the skin on her knees through the branches as she cycled beneath them, taking a harsh right down the streets she knew so well.

She waved to her neighbours and poked her tongue out at the kids who yelled out her name, busy playing with the hosepipe to try and cool off from the beating midday sun. Sweat beaded across her cheeks but she didn’t care. It was just as at home there as her freckles were, brought on by weeks of laying out in the sun.

Her bike clattered to the ground and she sprinted off the second her wheels hit the long grass, ignoring the way the blades tickled her bare legs. She heard laughing and shouting and the sound of water.

The sounds of her summer.

“Willow! What took you so long!” A voice yelled from the middle of the river the moment she came into view. The girl grinned and dropped her bag at the base of the large tree they always sat under.

“I’m sorry! Pa wanted my help in the shop!” She untied her white cross-over top and wriggled out of her denim shorts, tossing them messily in a pile on her backpack along with her converse. A floral orange bikini now adorned her body and she took a couple of steps back before running to the riverbank edge and jumping into the water, completely soaking everyone else inside.

Willow broke the surface of the water and slicked her unruly hair back out of her face, basking in how delicious the heat of the sun felt on her wet skin.

Natasha, who was spitting water out of her mouth thanks to her, now watched on with a slack jaw, almost drooling at the way the sunlight caught her girlfriend. These weeks in the sun had done wonders for her complexion and she glowed almost golden, the lighter highlights in her dark hair still catching the light even wet.

“You’re not allowed to do that when everyone is watching,” she hissed, sneaking up behind Willow and wrapping her arms around her waist under the water. The girl blushed and pressed a kiss to Natasha’s lips before looping an arm around her shoulder and turning to the rest of their friends with a grin.

“What did I miss?” She asked, looking at Wanda mostly, who was the biggest gossip in their group. She somehow knew the weirdest secrets about everyone in the town, sometimes even before they knew themselves.

“Bucky managed to break the rope swing and I found out yesterday night that Carol and Valk made out at Tony’s party.”

Willow’s jaw dropped and she turned to Natasha who just nodded in confirmation.

“Remind me to never be late again!”

Wanda chuckled. “You know that never works.”

Willow looked shocked and shoved water her way, accidentally imitating a full blown water fight. It sprayed everywhere, even soaking Steve’s clothes that were folded the closest to the water’s edge. They all panted hard, the laughter breaking out amongst them not helping them to catch their breath. Eventually everyone retired back to the tree, lounging around in the bathing suits in the comfort of the shade.

Natasha leaned up against the bark and stretched her legs out in front of her, to which Willow immediately seized her spot on Natasha’s thighs, resting her head on her plush skin. Her wet hair felt slightly gross but the redhead didn’t mind, only smirking down at her whenever their eyes met. Willow flung one arm over her face to try and shield the sun. What a stupid day to forget sunglasses.

Snacks were shared around; hard candies, chips, cola and several boxes of fruit courtesy of Steve’s mother. Willow sucked on a cherry flavoured lollipop and blinked up at Natasha, her lashes still dark from the water. Natasha gritted her teeth and pulled the red candy out of her girlfriend’s mouth, wiping the smirk clean off her face.

“I know you know what you’re doing,” she said, waving the treat in front of her face. But Willow just raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth, laying her red stained tongue flat against her bottom lip and chin. The others didn’t pay attention to the two girls, very much used to their way of flirting.

“You are unbelievable,” Natasha gave in and pressed the round lollipop against Willow’s tongue, much to the brunette’s delight. She wrapped her lips around it and hollowed her cheeks, never once breaking eye contact. “Stop it.”

Willow shrugged but couldn’t hide her smile so she sat up and settled between Nat’s legs, tugging her arms around her waist so they rested together on her stomach.

“You guys want one?” Wanda reached into the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out three joints, holding them like a winning set of cards in poker. Steve quickly shook his head, never one to dabble in that. Bucky accepted, as did Natasha, classically.

“Thanks Wands,” Natasha said as she accepted the joint, holding it out for the other girl to light. “Wanna shotgun me, baby?”

Willow did not need to be told twice. She placed her lollipop back in the wrapper for safe keeping and straddled Nat’s lap, waiting for her to inhale. She opened her mouth and accepted the smoke that Natasha pushed into it, goosebumps igniting along her damp skin at the hand now placed on the curve of her lower back. She exhaled away from Natasha’s face and tilted her head up to the sky, letting out another breath.

They shotgunned a few more hits before Willow tapped out, the light buzzy feeling in her head enough for now. Her father would go crazy if he knew she was smoking like this so she had to keep it to a minimum when he was home. Plus, her high came from watching Natasha take her own hits, the joint resting casually in her fingers as she rested back against the tree trunk. She was so effortlessly cool that Willow just wanted to kiss her and never stop.

“You’re all going to Tony’s again later, right?” Wands asked, only to be met with a host of nods. Being seventeen and on summer break meant no responsibilities and more parties. And whilst Tony was a stuck up asshole, he did host the best parties, no questions asked.

“I can get my sister to give us lifts home if you need?” Bucky offered, snuffing out his joint and leaning back on his elbows. If Willow ever thought about dating a guy, his physique would have her drooling, but now she just appreciated it like any normal person would.

“Please!” She said. “No one is getting out of drinking tonight. I didn’t steal a bottle of cherry schnapps for nothing.” One bottle from her father’s shelf wouldn’t be missed, right? “Are you selling tonight?” This was directed at Wanda who just shrugged nonchalantly.

“Probably. The crowds are big enough there and they’re all rich enough so I can really overcharge.” The typical hippie, Wanda sold weed at many of the parties, the floral bag tied around her hips far from an innocent coin purse. “If I make big then we are hitting the carnival next week hard!”

“That’s next week?” Willow asked, her eyes widening in surprise. The days all blurred into one during summer and she wasn’t even sure what day it was today. But it didn’t matter to her. “Steve, you are going down at Bucket Ball.” She narrowed her eyes and he did the same

“You’re sure about that?”

“Deathly.” Willow was never serious and her smile broke her focus, making her lose the rather short game of no blinking. Steve just raised his hands in surrender and Willow leaned back against Natasha’s bikini clad chest, muttering to herself about how she was going to beat him.

The group lounged around in the sun until it slowly began to set. Willow slipped her shorts on over her still damp bikini but stuffed her top into her backpack, really not bothered about how little clothing she had on. And Natasha definitely didn’t complain. They all pedalled home to their separate locations except Willow and Natasha, who made a quick pitstop at the Romanoff household so Nat could grab her clothes and everything else she needed to get ready. Willow sat on the curb with her legs outstretched, tapping the toes of her shoes together as she waited for Nat. Her hair had dried a frizzy, curly mess but she really didn’t care.

Natasha came running out five minutes later, her backpack a lot more full than it was before. They hopped on their bikes and raced each other back to Willow’s, Nat winning by a fraction of second. It wasn’t fair really, she was on the closest side of the road.

Their bikes were abandoned on the front lawn before they both raced up the front steps, giggling like children as they crashed into the house. Nat grabbed Willow by the waist and kissed her cheek and nose before darting in the kitchen and leaving behind a blushing mess of a girl.

Mrs Jenkins was hunched over a chair and trying unsuccessfully to get a pouty four year old to each the crackers on his plate. Willow’s little brother was adorable and his eyes lit up as Natasha gave him a small wave as she entered.

“Hi Mrs Jenkins, Hi Elliot,” she said, taking a seat on the bench under the window. “How are you?”

“Oh Natasha, how many times have I told you to call me Nancy! We are far past those formalities.” She always greeted the young girl with a tight hug and it truly was one of Natasha’s favourite greetings. The woman was so soft and warm, so maternal, and she really tried to savour the hugs she received. “I’m good, thank you dear. You’re looking well, such rosy cheeks.”

Natasha smiled and ducked slightly behind her hair, subconsciously hiding behind her hair. “Willow and I had a race back here and it’s already super hot outside, as you know. Elliot’s grown so fast! You’re such a big boy already!”

Nancy smiled fondly at her son and stroked his blonde hair back away from his forehead, having given up on making him eat his snack. He was fixated on Natasha, as usual, so any attempts she made were fruitless.

“He’s growing up too fast, that’s for sure.” Both women laughed. “Can you believe he’ll be five by the end of summer?”

Natasha shook her head and crossed her legs beneath her. “I remember when he was a baby and Willow would always complain about how much he cried.” Nancy looked as if to say ‘that’s about right’. “I’m always available to babysit him if you need me to.”

“Your mother is so lucky to have you, Natasha. I need to know where I went wrong with this one.” She jabbed her thumb over at Willow who had hopped up onto the counter and taken an apple from the fruit bowl beside her. She was oblivious to the fact that she was being talked about and crunched happily before biting a small piece off to pass to her brother in front of her. Typical. Of course he accepted food from her.

“You didn’t go wrong anywhere with her,” Natasha said in a softer tone, enamoured by how gentle Willow was with her baby brother. She was a wild soul but that suddenly switched when she was around him and as much as Natasha loved the thrill of the whirlwind that was her girlfriend, her tender side was so special because it was so rare and real.

Mrs Jenkins glanced over her shoulder towards the living room with a wary look, making sure her husband was out of earshot. “Don’t let James hear me say this, but I’m glad you’re able to tame her. I was worried she’d never settle down but you’ve worked magic with her somehow.”

It was really hard being anything but heterosexual in this day and age, and to most people in the town, including Willow’s father Jameson, Natasha and Willow were nothing more than best friends. Their friendship group really didn’t care who dated who, and Willow’s mom was strangely accepting, but that was about the extent of it. Public displays of affection were certainly limited.

“I am here, you know? I can hear you.” The disgruntled girl spoke up.

“I know,” her mother replied. “And get off my counter, how many times have I told you?”

“But it’s comfy,” Willow muttered to herself as she reluctantly slid off and leaned against the cupboards instead.

“I don’t care. Chairs were invented for that reason. Even Elliot knows that.”

“Sure sure, compare me to the golden child, why don’t you.” She disappeared out of the kitchen and Nancy rolled her eyes lightly. She really could never win with Willow. Her stubborn nature could not be tainted, no matter how hard anyone tried.

“There’s a party later so I should probably go and get ready,” Natasha said, looking for a reason to excuse herself. Nancy waved her on and told her that their dinner would be brought to Willow’s room once it was ready. Always looking after her children, and this extended to Natasha too, whenever she was around.

The crackly sound of Silver Springs rang gently through the record player as Willow dropped the needle and flipped onto her quilt, screwing up her pillow in her arms. Her bikini stuck to her skin uncomfortably but she barely noticed it. The way all the muscles in her back simultaneously relaxed as she lay down felt a lot better and she let out a small groan.

“Hey birdy,” Natasha said as she sat down on the bed beside her, tracing gentle shapes on the exposed skin of her back. “You’re the golden child to me, you know that, right?”

Wilow scrunched her nose up at the old nickname, having not heard it in years. Natasha started using it after Willow kept wearing tops with large sleeves that closely resembled wings, and it weirdly stuck.

“I don’t need to be the golden child,” she grumbled. “I’m leaving here as soon as I can, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Wherever you go, I go.” Natasha held out her pinky and linked with Willow’s, kissing their interlocked fingers softly. “I’ve always had a soft spot for rebellious girls.”

“Well don’t let my father hear you say that.”

Double checking that the bedroom door was indeed closed, Natasha leaned down and pressed her lips to Willow’s and cupped her jaw, guiding her in a kiss that left them both breathless. It was only quick, that’s all they could do. A heavy make out would be saved for later that evening, in some closed off room in Tony’s house where they could be alone with each other for as long as they wanted. And no interruptions.

“We wouldn’t want him to know how much of a blushing mess I make his daughter.”

Willow smirked and reached her hand up to stroke Natasha’s freckled cheek. “He’d kill you with his bare hands. And then probably send me to a nunnery or boarding school in Switzerland.”

“My birdy, a nun? Pigs will fly before that could ever be a possibility.” Willow opened her mouth to speak and then realised Natasha was indeed right, and she didn’t like that. Hooking her legs around Nat’s hips, their bodies swiftly flipped over so Willow was now on top and she smiled cockily before climbing off her completely and wandering over to her window.

“He probably wishes there’s somewhere that would turn me into a son that he can manipulate into taking over the family business,” she muttered, mainly to herself but Natasha still heard her words over the music. The way Willow was treated by her father was unfair, but unfortunately common. Jameson Jenkins didn’t get a first born son who could help him run the shop, so he resented his daughter from the moment she was born. And her fiery spirit certainly didn’t help her case either.

“If that was the case, then we’d cease to exist. Because as much as I like you, I could not date a guy.” There was an underlying seriousness to Nat’s words and she gently took Willow’s hand, looking over every detail on the face she could draw in her sleep. “I benefit from his loss, really.” There was a sparkle in Natasha’s eyes and Willow couldn’t help but laugh. That girl always knew how to make light of a dire situation.

“Have fun with that thought whilst I go shower.” Natasha dropped her hand and watched her leave before wandering over to the old crate that Willow used to store her records. The more well played ones donned dog eared covers, and Natasha sifted through these to find what she was looking for. Despite her love for Fleetwood Mac, Natasha was forever a Zeppelin and Hendricks girl, and the opening riff of ‘Fool in the Rain’ had her grinning madly as it cracked away on the record player.

Spinning and dancing around the room on her toes, the redhead made her way over to Willow’s closet and sifted through the clothes, deciding that she would be the one to pick what her girl would be wearing to the party. A brown mini skirt caught her eye and she tossed it onto the bed behind her, a few more items following quickly in its wake.

Trusty bell bottoms to match her own, a pair of flared striped pants, a few of the cross over tops that Willow was so obsessed with, and a denim jumpsuit that had Natasha biting her lip. It looked small on the hanger and she knew instantly how good it would hug her curves, and the halter neck and open back still daring enough to suit Willow’s madness.

All the other clothes seemed mediocre in comparison and Natasha quickly placed them back in the closet, leaving her new favourite item of clothing hanging casually on the doorknob. Her own outfit hung opposite to avoid wrinkles and even without seeing them on she knew they’d be looking hot tonight.

The bedroom door opening behind her made her jump and Willow poked her head around it sheepishly, her wet hair falling over her shoulder. “Did I hit you?”

“No, you just scared me.”

Willow hummed and grabbed the comb from her dresser to start painstakingly detangling her curls. Clad in nothing but a faded old oversized surfing tshirt courtesy of Wanda’s many trips around the world, Natasha had a hard time pulling her eyes away from the bare expanse of Willow’s legs. They were still damp from her shower and her skin looked so soft she just-

“Stop staring and go shower. You smell like the river and it’s bad.” Willow smirked at Natasha through the mirror in front of her and the redhead glared but disappeared into the bathroom anyway without another word.

Willow opened the large windows on the far side of her bedroom to allow the evening breeze to flow into her room. Golden hour had begun and it basked her room in a gorgeous orange glow, catching on the coloured glass shards that were strung up around her mirror.

Her mother slipped a tray of pasta and vegetables through her door which Willow gratefully accepted and sat cross legged on her floor to begin eating. Call her weird, but one of the best feelings was the way her hair slowly dried in the warm breeze. It was just so calming, so relaxing.

Natasha returned ten minutes later and they quickly ate, chatting and gossiping between each mouthful. Her father poked his head through the door to grunt a quick hello, but Y/n didn’t entertain that so he swiftly left. Natasha just smiled politely when he acknowledged her presence.

“I see you already picked out my outfit,” Willow said as her fork hovered by her lips. A tomato fell off but she didn’t bother trying to retrieve it so Natasha quickly swiped it up. “I like it.”

“Me too. And I’m not in the mood to watch you try on twenty different outfits, no matter how hot you look in them all.” Willow shot her a look and blew a stray curl out of her face. “Don’t give me that, birdy, you know that’s exactly what would have happened.”

“Maybe I am like my father, because he hates smartasses too!” She jabbed her fork in Natasha’s direction, bearing her teeth at the laughing redhead leaning against the legs of her vanity.

“You won’t hate me when I’m done with you,” Natasha answered, suddenly jumping up and pulling Willow over to the bed. “Lie down, I want to do your makeup.” Natasha pushed her down onto the bed and straddled her lap, grabbing her makeup pouch that had been tossed onto the comforter. Willow didn’t protest, or rather she couldn’t, not with Natasha’s body weight pinning her down.

The record had stopping playing but neither of them moved to flip it over, so the sounds of squeals and laughter drifted in through the open window, families spending their summer evenings in their spacious back yards. Willow closed her eyes as Natasha swiped her brush over her lips, her tongue poking out in concentration.

Nat didn’t add much makeup, not wanting to take away from her sunkissed natural beauty. A small smear of blush, some orange and brown on her lids and a stroke of mascara. Subtle, but just enough to highlight her best features.

The redhead sat back on Willow’s thighs and admired her handiwork, nodding to herself with her lip pulled between her teeth. “Not bad, not bad.”

“Not bad?” Willow exclaimed, her eyebrows shooting to. “Natasha you better not have mucked up my face!”

“Better see for yourself.” She moved to the side so Willow could race over to her mirror, expecting to see an absolute wreckage judging by Natasha’s reaction. But what she found was the simplest yet most effective make up look she’d had in a long time and she closed one eye to examine the soft orange hue.

“Nat, this looks so cool! Don’t scare me like that again.” She turned around with her hands on her hips, head cocked to the side.

“I’m sorry, but your reactions just make it so much fun.” Their relationship was full of jokes and banter, bouncing off each other with smart remarks and quick comebacks. That’s how they managed to pull off the best friend card so well. They really were the best of friends.

Willow flipped the record and they both finished getting ready, wriggling into their outfits and touching up their hair as the cherry print alarm clock on Willow’s bedside table kept reminding them how late they were.

Natasha had blow dried her hair so it now tumbled around her shoulders in voluminous waves, combined with her dark winged eye liner and dark red top to make Willow pause with a hair tie between her teeth.

“Please never stop wearing those jeans,” was all she said before turning back to the mirror to finish pinning up her rather messy half up style. Willow had let them air dry so they were not uniformed at all, but the unruly look suited her far better.

“These?” Natasha turned to the side and smoothed her hands over her butt, frowning at the way the tight back material hugged her figure. “Are you sure it’s not too much?”

“Never.” Willow didn’t even turn around. Asking Nat to wear the jeans was purely a selfish move and she would stand by that until her dying day. “Can you grab my shoes?”

“Sneakers or heels?” Natasha held up a red pair of platform heels that complimented her top nicely but Willow turned her nose up. “Sneakers it is.”

“I pick comfort any day.” Hair done, lips glossed, sneakers laced, they ran down the stairs at the sound of a honk, Willow smuggling the bottle of cherry schnapps inside her jacket that she was going to ditch the moment they got into the car.

Bucky waved from the passenger seat as the girls sprinted across the lawn, leaping over their bikes that they’d thrown down earlier. Willow climbed into the back and Natasha followed, pulling the cab door shut of the red Ford F250.

“You ladies look good,” Bucky’s sister, Becca, called out. She worked in the mechanic shop on the edge of town and was a few years older than the rest of them but still knew how to have a good time. Plus she was the only one with a fully functioning car after Steve totalled his at a stop sign.

“Thanks, Bec. You don’t look so bad yourself Bucky.”

The man in question tugged at the collar of his shirt proudly. “What can I say, decided to make the effort. We won’t be this young forever.”

Willow and Nat shared a look before they started chuckling. “You sound like an old man.”

“Sometimes I think he is,” Becca agreed, smiling at the girls in her mirror.

“Does that mean you need picking up at ten tonight?” Natasha teased, knowing full well that the time was nine pm. She just loved to rile him up.

“Can we kick them out here?” Bucky asked as they pulled up to a stop light. “Just open the door and make them walk the rest of the way?”

“No, but you can walk if you want to.” The downside of having an older sister… she always sided with everyone else. Bucky sank into his seat and muttered under his breath, disgruntled. Or, that was until Willow waved a bottle in front of his face.

“Don’t be sad, it’s party time. You get the first sip.” He craned around to smile at her before untwisting the cap and taking a rather big gulp from the bottle. The taste wasn’t the best but he took another sip before handing it back. Natasha was next, knocking back hers like a true professional. “Ok please leave some for me!”

“Don’t worry birdy, I will.”

Willow seized her bottle from Natasha’s grip and tucked it between the door and her body, away from everyone. “Bec, I would offer you some but I don’t want to be dragged down with you if you get pulled over. I wouldn’t be allowed to see Wanda ever again.” Wanda’s father was a cop, which was ironic considering the illegal activities his daughter was the centre of right under his nose.

“You’re all good, Willow. I don’t know how you kids drink that stuff.”

Willow sank back against her seat, the leather sticking to her exposed back. “It’s definitely a Barnes thing, this ‘old person’ talk,” she muttered to Natasha who snorted. “You’d think I was visiting my grandparents.”

“I can hear you, you know.”

“Good. Glad to see your old age hasn’t affected your hearing.” If Becca wasn’t driving she would have reached behind and slapped Willow, who definitely deserved it. Her cocky smirk in triumph was infuriating to say the least and Natasha was thoroughly entertained.

Luckily for them, the Stark’s long drive came into view and the truck started to crawl up the gravel driveway, bumping over the uneven ground.

Tony Stark lived on the largest estate in the town. His parents were both in business and spent a large part of their year in the city, leaving their house and land to the questionable hands of their twenty year old son. Whether they knew of what went on whilst they were away, nobody knew, but Tony’s parties were unbeatable and unmissable.

The three of them piled out of the truck and waved goodbye to Becca before they assessed the scene in front of them. There were people everywhere; some they recognised, some they didn’t. But the unfamiliar faces didn’t deter them and Willow slipped her fingers into Natasha’s as they walked into the main entrance.

With the warm summer night air, the sound of good music and dancing, and Natasha right by her side, Willow felt on top of the world. She hated the small town life but wouldn’t trade this summer for the world.

#my songbird au #natasha romanoff #fanfic #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x o!c #wanda maximoff #bucky barnes #steve rogers #70s #70s aesthetic

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buckybarnesisjewish · 7 months

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The Winifred Barnes-Sarah Rogers immigrant mother solidarity of just picking the last name of a random U.S. president to be the Anglicized middle name of their respective sons Ya’akov and Stiofán.

YES!!! I have long cherished the headcanon of bucky being named after the president bc his parents thought it was a good "american name" and i love the idea of sarah doing that as well. imagine Winifred and Sarah meeting for the first time at Ellis Island with their babies in their arms...

#headcanons #mod c #jewish bucky barnes #jewish bucky #bucky barnes #irish steve rogers #irish steve #steve rogers #stucky #winifred barnes #sarah rogers

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squids-comics · 1 month

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The A on Cap's helmet is only a sticker. This feels like cursed knowledge.

Also, he has an anti hypnosis circuit (?) under the A. Magneto doesn't have his anti-telepathy helmet yet, making Cap the most defended from mental attacks by his choice of headwear (except maybe Juggernaut, I can't remember if his helmet is telepathy proof yet).

From: Tales of Suspense #79

#comics #comic books #dc comics #web comics #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #c #comic panels #marvel comics #captain america #steve rogers #tony stark #iron man #magneto #juggernaut

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nakurumok · 1 year

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Hurt and comfort

#Marvel #Stony #Avengers Academy #Steve Rogers #Tony Stark #Captain America #Ironman #AvAc #Hurt/Comfort #H/C #I tried sewing something and I nearly sew my fingers on the cloth #sighs #I need some confort #Really #Marvel Fanart #Stony Fanart #Fanart #Doodle

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prmssm · 2 years

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Like a year ago, someone left tags on one of my multiverse meeting posts that went something like: "AA Steve and Tony are like two dogs scratching at the door wanting to get out to see each other." Ever since then, the concept of them having to be physically separated to attend meetings has lived rent-free in my head.

#i didn't stage this well and everyone looks wonky but i rarely get doodling energy lately so i just ran #doodlies #c: tony stark #c: steve rogers #s: stevetony #e: trn562 #e: 8096 #e: 199999 #e: 616 #e: 12041

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myst1calx · 6 months

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morning domesticity. 🌄 ❤️💙

this is the AA universe!! please don't repost my work without proper credit and linkage. Thank you! :]

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cherryqueen28 · 6 months

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~Chris Evans Master List~

click here for Main Master List

~Chris Evans Tumblr~

~SERIES~

✨Just a Fling Chris Evans x Reader @whatstruthgottodowithit

✨The Boston Brute NHL!Chris Evans x Athletic Trainer!Reader @time-for-a-lullaby

✨Arranged Mafia Boss!Chris Evans x Reader @time-for-a-lullaby

✨Im Just an Assistant Chris Evans x Reader @time-for-a-library

✨Set up Chris Evans x Reader @time-for-a-lullaby

✨Out of Left Field MLB!Chris Evans x Reader @time-for-a-library

~ONE SHOTS~

✨Age is Just a Number Chris Evans x Reader @whatstruthgottodowithit

✨The Cutest Customer Chris Evans x Reader @whatstruthgottodowithit

No title Chris Evans x Reader @theawkwardundercoverwriter

~Chris Evans Wattpad~

✨Yes, Captain by notoriousbee (also on AO3)

✨Cheek to Cheek by Kirstie-Lotr

✨The Coffee Shop by lediggrdulce

✨Professor by peaceandpout (can't be linked so I linked the author)

✨The Girl Next Door by Kirstie-Lotr

~Chris Evans AO3~

✨Boston, Bars, and Beards by LadyNovaJade

✨So. Cal, Sand, and Secrets by LadyNovaJade (part two of Boston, Bars, and Beards)

✨The Boy Next Door by emb617

#chris evans masterlist #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #Chris Evans #ao3 fanfic #chris evans x y/n #captain america #steve rogers #c evans #boston #wattpad

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a-moment-captured · 1 year

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Chris Evans + tattoo details (close ups)

#Chris evans #people magazine #sexiest man alive #christopher robert evans #Chris #evans #christopher jamal evans #cevans #c evans #steve Rogers #Andy barber #lloyd hansen #marvel #defending jacob #style #fashion #men fashion #the gray man

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fandomfluffandfuck · 6 months

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Oh, and my love

Did I mistake you for a sign from God?

I couldn't get blasphemy/religious kink out of my silly little head. It was haunting me, and so... have a little stucky drabble with Father Barnes and churchgoer Steve 😮‍💨 (the drabble that will absolutely have me going to hell if I weren't already destined, lmao)

A soft, breathy moan falls helplessly from Steve's parted lips. Ohhh. Pleasure curls in his gut, tight and hot--burning hot. Guilt simmers in his thick, hot blood. He shouldn't--

But, oh, fuck, how can something feel so good and be wrong? Steve isn't convinced heaven exists because, shit, something better than this? How? That doesn't sound possible.

Faith wavering, Steve swallows another obscene, much-too-loud-for-being-home-in-his-Ma's-apartment sound. His mouth is watering. He's trembling. His hands are trembling, and he can hardly keep a steady rhythm going, his fist slick and tight around the throbbing shaft of his cock. He can't even look at it--at what he's doing. He burns with embarrassment. He knows what it would look like. He's done this before. He can't resist. He can't stay away. It feels so good! The pleasure. The thick, long shape of his penis engorged with feverish blood. Even in his lust addled, instinctual brain, he knows it's unholy. It's obscene. Liquid weeps from the flushed, fat head, collecting around his circumcision scar before dripping down his shaft, getting caught on the plump veins, on the way down to his swollen balls.

Oh, fuck.

He thought he was over this!

Shit.

Fuck.

Steve burns hotter, pleasure and embarrassment curling tighter. Twinned. He can't help the thoughts. The swears. He can't help this--

He thought he was over the unstoppable, overwhelming, plaguing thoughts of Father Barnes. He thought it was a teenage awakening that would pass. Something to do with his hot, young blood. He thought--

God.

Steve hisses but can't do anything else. He doesn't mean to take the Lord's name in vein. He just, he just--

Fuck.

His thoughts got him into all this trouble. Why can't he resist his thoughts!? Overcome the struggle. He wanted. No. He didn't--he didn't want--

He didn't want--

He shouldn't've gone to church with his Ma on his break home from college. He really fucking shouldn't have. He shouldn't've known better. Temptation. He didn't need to. He could've claimed he attended worship before he left campus; he could've played hooky. But he didn't. Instead, he walked right up to the tree and took a bite of the first luscious piece of fruit he could find and sunk his teeth in, the sticky, sweet juice flowing in rivers down his chin. There was no need to wait a luring, tricking serpent, Steve did it all to himself.

Shit.

He's so weak. So, so weak.

Fuck it.

Steve gives in. He moans. Loud. All he can do is send a fleeting prayer to God that his Ma is still out and that he hasn't lost so much time in his indulgence that she's returned. He needs to be alone. He's sinking into his imagination. His filthy imagination is dripping so thick with sin that he can taste it in the back of his throat. It tastes like cinnamon and pure, flickering flames.

Using the arm that isn't engaged in shamefully pleasuring himself--he can't use that arm! He can't stop!--Steve throws it over his eyes, his nose nestled in the crook of his elbow. And again, he can't help but moan. With his eyes shut, images just as vivid in the beautiful stained glass windows of the church flash beneath his lids.

Father Barnes is towering over him after communion. The crowds of believers are gone. The congregation has disappeared entirely, so it is just them alone in the nave. Father Barnes' cassock is tight around his thick throat but flows over his broad shoulders and down his solid chest. Steve wants to touch him. His palms are sweaty, pressed together, and his fingers curl together. Hands resting in his lap. He can't touch.

He wouldn't dare.

Steve is kneeling at the steps to the stage, before the pulpit, as if he's eagerly awaiting the next sermon.

He's kneeling, hands folded for prayer. And Father Barnes is standing above him. The excess wine from communion sloshes in a goblet in one of his large hands. Rich. Dark. Sweet. Father blesses him, and one of his hands, large and square with blunt nails, tangle in Steve's golden hair, using it like a handle to pull his head back, commanding him to open his mouth.

Steve obeys. He is nothing if not a willing servant of the Lord. He will serve Father Barnes.

Father pours and pours and pours.

In his imagination, the taste of wine explodes over Steve's tastebuds, filling his throat and making his head spin. Intoxicating. He will not choke. He swallows and swallows and gurgles his thanks to Father--to the Lord.

He could weep in pleasure. Steve squeezes himself unforgivingly hard. Gasping.

Ah!

Wine overflows thickly, sweetly out of his gaped mouth, over his lips, down his chin, off his jaw, and spills onto his bare chest. His nipples are hard. Tight. His chest heaves, fighting to breath--fighting to accept it and not choke. Still, the stream of communion wine does not stop. Steve drinks all of it. All the blood. He is blessed. Eager to be blessed. He will take it all inside of him, and he will be blessed.

Please.

Father Barnes holds tightly to his golden hair, forcing him to take the last drops of wine--staining his pale, freckled flesh like blood. The only thing Steve has seen Father Barnes cling to so tightly is his rosary or his beloved annotated copy of the Bible. He is clinging to Steve tightly. Holding him in place. Steve feels holy. He glows from the inside out with the light of Heaven.

Swallowing.

Steve shivers so hard, picturing himself kneeling at the mercy of Father Barnes, that he shakes himself from the first fantasy and into the next, jerking himself hard, tight, rough, moaning louder still.

Fuck.

Shit.

He jerks himself wildly. Hard. Rough. The sounds are wet and filthy and unmistakable. Obviously sinful. Erotic.

Fuuuuck.

Fuck.

Steve's no longer kneeling. Instead, he has been thrown over one of the pews. He is still bared before Father Barnes. Father Barnes stands behind him, his hands hot, like brands, over his shoulders and back and hips. Steve's cock twitches. He feels the closest to God that he ever has.

The wet fap fap fap of his fist around his cock becomes something even more shameful and deviant in his fantasies--his eyes shut tighter--

Oh, oh!

Father Barnes' thick, long fingers are delving deep into him, wet and stretching him out, forcing his way into his body. No one else has. Steve doesn't--he doesn't really know. But. It, it's all he wanted since all of this sin first awoke in him. He knows--he might not know, but he knows it would be good.

So good.

Father Barnes would take care of him.

Steve knows it would be so good that he can't stop making sounds. In his room and in his fantasy. Breathing heavily. Moaning. Groaning. Gasping. Whimpering. White-knuckling the pew, pressing back to the intimate press of his fingers. Crying. He doesn't know what he's feeling. He just knows that it is not of Earth. It is Heavenly. It is bright white. Brilliant. Fire is inside him. Heaven and the flames of Hell warring.

Oh!

Ah!

Fuck!

The sounds Steve can't help but make are so, so, soooh loud that he can picture the beautiful, elegant, stained glass windows shattering. He burns in shame, knowing that this is the worst thing these ancient, sacred walls have heard. He is mortified, but it feels too good to plead for it to stop. The lush sin is too tempting. He's too weak. He's--he's soft. He's soft-willed. He's not soft.

Fuuck.

Steve twists his wrist and fucks his hips up into his fist. It feels incredible. He squeezes. He rocks his hips. He rolls his throbbing balls in his hand.

He's so hard.

He can't imagine the pressure, the pleasure of his swollen, engorged dick against the cold, polished line of the wooden pew. He can't imagine the untamed, unholy pleasure of Father Barnes' fingers working inside him. Cooing at him, voice smooth and low, to be patient and take what he is given and no more, whenever he presses his ass back. Needing more.

More.

With the heightening pleasure, the image shifts, melting into something new. Something hotter. If possible.

Father Barnes' voice is the first thing to come to Steve. He purrs to Steve that he is a lamb, his plush, shapely lips brushing the shell of Steve's ear. Goosebumps appear all over Steve's flesh.

He shudders. He nods.

Father is right.

He is but one sheep in the flock, needing direction, foolish, and in need of a protector. A sweet, little lamb. A lost lamb. Father will show him the way. He will show him suffering and prevailing. He will show him faith.

Steve believes in him.

He believes desperately, and he opens his eyes in the fantasy, suddenly finding himself in the church, at the center of the stage. He is the sermon. The center of attention. He is displayed. Arms spread apart. Legs hanging long and tied together at the ankle.

Oh.

Steve moans raggedly, the sound grating against his throat. Eager and perverse.

Fuck.

He is--

He is displayed, strung up on the cross. Bared head to toe. No way to hide. Shame burns through him like hell. How is it so sweet, then?

Father Barnes has made him into the next sacrifice. A lamb on the alter. A body on the cross. The taste of wine is thick in his mouth. It drips from his lips. His fingertips are stained. His head is lulled back. He can not see straight. All he can feel is Heaven. Pleasure.

Pleasure.

He has never felt anything so divine.

Steve convulses as if possessed on his squeaky, twin bed from his childhood. Fantasizing about sinful, horrible things that pollute his mind. He can't. He can't!

He's so, so close that it's painful.

Father's hands caress him. Dragging boldly down shoulders, over his expanding and contracting ribs, onto his abs, past his hips, and to his lega--bypassing his mortifyingly hard penis without comment. It throbs so hard that jerks.

Steve squirms and writhes and shakes into the next perverse imagine to overtake him like a demon crawling into his body.

This time, it's not rich, sweet wine in his mouth, dancing on his tongue. It's metallic, it's, it's--

Steve's teeth rattle, choking, clenching down on the taste of Father Barnes' rosary, stuffed into his mouth to muffle his cries while his thick, hot, throbbing cock shoves itself into his hole. Using him.

Oh, oh, oh.

Steve can't catch his breath. He has never been so full in his life. He has never felt more purpose. This is what he is for. Serving his purpose. Worship has never been so good.

Sweet, little lamb, Father purrs. A sign from God, you are. An offering. Precious. Lamb. Meant to follow. Meant to serve, weren't you?

Steve whines through his nose, gnawing at his bottom lip until the taste of copper floods his mouth. He moans openly then. Shaking. Trembling as if the Holy Spirit has taken him, moving through him.

The filth takes more shape, he isn't kneeling to pray, he isn't bent over a pew, he isn't displayed as a sacrifice on the cross, he is braced shakily against the wooden pulpit, facing out to where the pews would fill with the members of the congregation. Father is behind him. Thrusting into him like he wants to break him. Like he wants to tear him apart.

My boyyy, Father Barnes' lips and teeth graze his throat, so close to his wildly thundering pulse.

The rosary slips from Steve's mouth, just a bit, only for Father to correct his mistake. Forgiving. Groaning and stuffing it back where it belongs in his mouth. Steve is drooling. He's whimpering. He's gasping. He's aching. So hard. His cock keeps hitting the pulpit with how forcefully he's being fucked.

He moans, and the rosary and all its beautiful, delicate beads tumble out from his swollen mouth, covered in saliva and ruining the pages of the open Bible. The ink runs and spreads. Father! Steve cries. Father Barnes, Father, oh, oh--

OH, GOD!

Steve takes the Lord's name in vain and spirals with hot, thick shame at the same time that he is taken by pleasure. White, hot pleasure. Swelling inside him, violent and holy and impossible. An orgasm. A sinful, brilliant orgasm with the taste of metal and wine and flesh on his tongue.

Father growls over his shoulder, shoving into him once last time as he presses his face unkindly against the wet rosary and ruined Bible and spills into him. Steve silently pants, pages of the Bible sticking to his cheek. The wet ink is going to leave scripture printed across his pale, flushed skin.

Jesus Christ.

Back in his body, lying in his bed in a pool of sweat, Steve murmurs a prayer reflexively. Psalm 32:1. Forgiveness. Guilt swirls inside him. It burns as he catches his breath. The mess of his sin is sticky and getting tacky on his skin. There's a wine stain on his cheeks. Blushing. He needs to clean up before Ma gets home. He needs to clean up before his imagination swallows him again with Devilish ideas, and he's sucked back in. He wants to sob in sweet pleasure and awful humiliation at the thought of confessing to anyone what he's done. He pictures the open shock on Father Barnes' face if he did confess and...

Oh, God.

Steve almost orgasms again.

#fandomfluffandfuck #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #uhhhhhhh #I'm sorry and not sorry for this lol #Spotify #ALSO #the song JESUSCHRIST SUPERSTAR by Black Swan F U C K S with blasphemy kink

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marvelsmusings · 7 months

Note

"Steve? Can I have a hug?"

"What's going on? You don't ever have to ask.... come here," he breathed, brows furrowed. He hated seeing her upset.

@ghostofwinter

#c; steve rogers

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c-nstantine · 10 months

Text

note: all of these will be written with a black!reader in mind

#x black!reader #black!reader #x black reader #bruce wayne x black!reader #black reader #bruce wayne x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x black!reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black reader #talia al ghul x reader #c-nstantine

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the-yoru-whoru · 7 months

Text

One of his favourite things to do was to make you sit on the ground.

He would push you down gently, patting your head reassuringly as he did so.

You didn’t fully understand why Steve liked this position so much, didn’t understand why he loved to tower over you and look down at your small figure on the ground, caressing and petting the hair he could reach.

It’s not like you ever minded; it was somehow comforting, and you liked being able to nuzzle and hug into his legs as he told you how much of a good girl you were.

You never really replied to what he said, you didn’t like to speak and sometimes you thought Steve liked it this way.

People were always arguing with him, protesting and complaining about whatever he ordered.

Being a leader was a hard job, and you relished in being able to take away at least some of that burden, even if it meant you had to sit on the ground below him.

It wouldn’t take long for him to start getting hard though, his bulge growing larger and larger from your perspective, his jeans eventually straining taut from the hardening member inside.

Then things would usually grow more intense.

You don’t really have a choice when he pulls your face into his crotch, grinding and groaning as he lightly ruts against your soft face.

He loves hearing your muffled whimpers from below, seeing you struggle to breath as he smothers you into his clothes cock.

The smell of his cock is strong even through his pants. The musky scent is reminiscent of sweat and salt, and it fogs up your head even more than it already was, making you more compliant to his wants.

Steve doesn’t dirty talk much, his noises more of a series of breathless groans and grunts as he messes up your hair and rubs your face red, as if even if he did talk you wouldn’t fully understand him.

When he’s gotten too hard that it’s painful, he’ll finally pull out his cock altogether, hastily unzipping his jeans and freeing his dick directly onto your waiting face.

It’s hard to see his dick properly from this angle, and you struggle to even keep your eyes open as he begins to rub his thick cock all over your face.

It’s slightly sticky and warm to the touch, and you only sit there obediently, whimpering every once in a while as he smears his precum onto your checks, poking and prodding at your soft skin with his heavy member.

The smell is even stronger now, and you feel as if you’re growing dizzy from the overwhelming musk that overtakes you.

It’s only then that the soldier will really start talking, low voice raspy with lust.

“This is exactly where you belong,” Steve’ll groan out, moving his dick over your eyes to block your vision, “Underneath my dirty cock, all smothered in it. I love seeing your pretty face become nothing but a place for me to rest my dick; such a lovely, lovely little slut.”

You can’t even reply as he begins to nudge the flushed tip of his cock into your mouth, the sudden invasion making you recoil slightly at the salty taste.

You look up at him pitifully, and you swear his dick only grows harder in your mouth, his breathing growing ragged as he brings his hands down to grab both sides of your head crudely.

He loves inching his dick into your mouth slowly, watching your discomfort grow more and more as you struggle to fit the whole thing.

Steve adored the control he had over you, the total submission and lack of pride you held to yourself to be handled so degradingly, to let him dirty your sweet image with his unrelenting dirty wants and pleasure.

It was a sweet release from how he usually acted, how everyone seemed to see him.

“That’s right,” He would breath out, seeing tears well up in your eyes as you began to struggle and gag on his cock, the thick member filling your throat and tiny mouth, “Don’t you dare fucking move. Let me enjoy this.”

Even with his cock fully submerged in your wet mouth, his voice was still soft and gentle, almost condescending as he didn’t let you breath, only pulling you closer and closer in using your hair as his handles.

Soon your face would be pressed up against his crotch completely, vision blurred and nose nestled in the thick blond pubes.

Although you would do anything Steve asked, you always hated this part.

It felt like hours that he would keep his dick nestled in the warm comfort your mouth, forgetting your need to breath and ignoring your discomfort at having his warm fat cock invading every one of your senses.

Your jaw would ache and your knees would grow sore from sitting on the ground for so long, but still you waited, letting him use your mouth as nothing but a fleshlight for him to stick his cock into, a warm hole to be filled by him for his pleasure.

Finally, finally, he would begin to slowly thrust in and out, the lewd squelching sounds of the accumulated drool filling the room.

You can only gag and cry as he would fuck into your face earnestly, balls slapping your chin and hands still gripping tightly onto your head as he pounded your abused mouth and spread your own spit all over your face.

If you tried to get up he would shove you down easily, groans becoming full on growls as he lost himself in the pleasure.

He usually lost control of any sense of respect and modesty at this point, the things he would say being absolutely vile and unacceptable had you not been choking on his cock.

“God, you are so fucking dumb. Do you really have nothing in this little head?” He would knock your head with a knuckle condescendingly, “No self-respect? No pride? You’re okay with letting me use your face for my dirty fat cock? Letting me fuck your mouth until you can’t breath anymore?”

You can’t nod or disagree, can only squeeze your eyes shut and wait for him to cum.

“You don’t need to talk or eat or breath or see, right? You only exist to take my fucking cock, right? Don’t bother answering—that slutty little face says it all.”

It’s not long before you feel his cock swell up in your mouth, and he’s finally pulling his dick out of your abused lips, aiming his twitching cock at your face.

You don’t close your eyes when he cums on you, watching his body tense up as he covers you in his hot cum, the thick liquid spurting out in pumps all over your face.

It lands on your cheeks, nose, lips, and eyes, but you ignore the stinging, only staring up at Steve as he groans at the sight of you covered in his seed.

Still, even then you don’t dare move.

You let him grab your face roughly in his fingers, let him drag his cock across your face one last time to rub his own cum into your skin crudely.

You don’t bother wiping any of the mess off, or even waiting for him to let you stand.

He just stares at you, with an strange expression even now you can’t fully comprehend.

And you don’t say anything.

#degrading k1nk #reader #imagine #writing #reader insert #marvel #marvel imagine #Steve Rogers #steve x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #rough #n*fw #c*m #ownership #mute reader

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