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#clint x f!reader
iamasaddie · 3 months
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contacts
paring: Clint x f!reader warnings: PWP (literally no plot, AT ALL) ER; age gap (not specified), explicit sexual content word count: 1,3k~ ~a/n: told you I was writing a smutty follow up. u can concider it being in the same universe as CRACKS or read as a stand-alone, really doesn't matter. not beta-ed. masterlist
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The thrusts of his hips were unrelenting, the burning stretch of his cock parting your insides so familiar and yet so exciting every single time. His deep breaths became erratic and labored, and you smiled knowing what’s gonna happen next.
“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, a single droop of sweat traveling from his forehead down the curve of his nose and you lifted you head licking it off. “Fuck, I think my heart is gonna crash.”
Clint was a generous and adventurous lover, your sex drive matched perfectly which meant you both liked to fuck like rabbits, but he was twice your age and even though it wasn’t a problem, sometimes it showed. After a long way of working, or chopping wood and doing shit in the backyard, his want for you would never go away, but his ability to go as hard and long as he usually did would definitely be affected. You never complained because truly you didn’t have a reason to, you still got your fair share of orgasms, be that caged between his massive thighs and strong arms or bouncing on top of him.
Today was one of those days, Clint practically dragged you to the bedroom, giving you only a moment to turn the stove off and ripping both of your clothes on the way up. He was needier than usual but you felt yourself getting wet just from the look of desperation in his face.
Pretty soon he was balls deep inside you, punching the air out of your lungs with every thrust and growling filth in your ear. When his energy started to give out, you felt a ringing slap landing on your thigh as he fell on his back next to you and dragged your buzzing body on top.
“Come one, baby, ride my dick. Show me how much you love me.”
You grinned, lining him up to your sleek entrance and sinking on his shaft in one smooth motion. Clint kept his eyes open, the only indication of his pleasure were his gritted teeth and the hard cock that probed at your cervix with every motion. 
He became unusually quiet, his eyes running from your face, to your tits that bounced more appetizingly than a Sunday roast after years of starvation. Clint kept staring, going lower to where you easily swallowed his girthy shaft, making him grunt and moan as your walls contracted around it.
“Fuck, baby, you look so fucking hot when you ride my dick like that. Prettiest fucking thing,” he squeezed out through tense lips and his hands gripped bruises into your thighs. His strong arms helped you go up and down on his cock, he practically maneuvered you himself, used you like a barely conscious sex toy.
“You should take a picture,” you half whispered, the words interrupted by the sharp intakes of your breath every time the fat head of his cock nudged your g-spot. 
“Good idea,” one of his hands released you and you saw him blindly searching for a phone beneath the pillows. Yours was the first one he found and he spent less than a couple of seconds angling the camera just right to fit you into the frame.
“Gonna be my own fucking porn star, baby.” His eyes jumped from the little screen back to your body, left hand going from gripping your thigh to squeezing your tit. The feeling of his cock becoming even harder inside you, the thrill of being recorded and the clear awe in the eyes of your man made your head dizzy. The intoxicating mix of emotions and feelings guided you to your climax way quicker than you expected, and Clint obviously saw that on your face with the way you felt him thrusting his hips up harder and steadier. 
"Come on, little one, be a good girl, m and cum on my cock.” He brought the camera so close that the only thing it captured was the way his dick, wet from tour juices and his own precum, disappeared in your stretched hole. The quiet grunts and your moans were only interrupted by the filthy squelch of your cunt taking-taking-taking and the depravity of it made you want to ride him even harder. Clint brought his left hand back  to your hip making sure that his hand wasn’t blocking the view of your pussy as he started pressing and circling your aching clit violently dragging the orgasm out of you. “That's my girl, cum on me.  Fucking soak me, baby, want the drops to hit the fucking camera. Cum for me, baby."
Your body shook as your orgasm almost squeezed the life out of your body. Your vision got blurry for a moment and your hands pressed into Clint’s soft stomach to help you remain on top. While your walls continued to contract, his still hard and throbbing cock was still inside you. You took a few deep breaths, steadying yourself and shook your head to come back to your senses. Your hand silently stretched, taking the phone out of Clint’s hand that he gave with no questions. But when you turned the camera on him he was visibly confused.
“What is that about?”
“It’s my turn seeing you turn into a fucked out mess, loverboy,” you started to slowly rotate your hips, overstimulated but too hooked on seeing him come undone, on feeling him full you up. Your movements shut him up quickly, returning his attention to his own pleasure. You loved how his face screwed as if he was in pain when he came. He didn’t control himself in that moment, letting you see the raw emotions elicited by the heights of his pleasure. 
Unlike him, you made sure the camera got his face, your legs already burning with exertion. You caught the moment when Clint bared his gritted teeth, and your free hand slid up his stomach to punch his nipples that he refused to admit were quite sensitive. Just as you did that your pussy squeezed his cock in a choking hold.
“Please, give me your cum,” you started whispering like a madwoman, it took all of your strength to try and keep the camera upright, “fill me up, please, I wanna feel you in my fucking stomach.”
Clint’s growl was inhumane as his hips punched into yours for the last time, warm ropes of cum painting your insides in fat stripes. For a moment you both were in trance, just looking at each other, you even forgot you were holding the phone in your hand, camera still rolling, until he took it from your hand and pressed stop. 
“Bet we would make a lot of money on OnlyFans.” You giggled, laying on top of him while his cock slowly softened inside you. Your sweaty bodies stuck together, soft stomachs pressing into each other as you found the right temp of breathing. 
“What’s that?” Clint asked, his hand finding your hair and stroking it gently.
“It’s a… you know what, it’s nothing.” You mumbled in his skin. 
You spent a few moments in silence and just as you were about to ask Clint if he actually wanted the video or if he did it for the thrill of the moment, you heard a soft and familiar sound of his snoring. 
Gently kissing his skin above his heart, you climbed off him and settled by his side, fishing the phone from between your pillows and opening the photo app. 
“Finally I have a picture for your contact,” you whispered to yourself, cropping the screenshot you took from the video, a moment when he looked at you with his eyes full of content, settling in the post orgasmic haze.
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musings-of-a-rose · 3 months
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A New Life
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Pairing: Clint “Freaky Tales” x f!readers (there’s 2, both have nicknames)
Word Count: 11,000+ (it's a long one, folks!)
Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!
Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 
Notes: a huge shoutout to @nerdieforpedro for beta reading this and giving me the confidence to actually hit post. And to Mr. Rose for helping me out of a corner.
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**Reader is not described
Main Masterlist
Clint Masterlist
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CLINT
“No! No, please! Tell The Guy I'll step back from his territory!”
Clint stares down at the man who's now covered in his own blood, coughing and spitting up the red liquid onto the floor, splashing a little onto Clint's shoes. He looks at the man and grabs his hair, yanking his head back and staring him in the eyes, seeing fear at the rapidly approaching end of his life. 
“Then you should've stopped when we warned you.”
Clint slides his knife into the man's abdomen, watching as the man coughs and sputters, small gasps all he can manage as the life leeches from his body. When he slumps, Clint knows it's over. He sits back, shaking his head and sighing, looking around at the mess all over the tarp he'd placed on the floor. I'm getting tired of this.
He cleans up and disposes of the body properly, his stomach rumbling by the end of his work. A quick glance at his watch tells him it's nearly 3am. He hopes there's still someplace open where he can at least get a cup of hot coffee. 
He drives in the general direction of his apartment for nearly 15 minutes before he sees the neon OPEN sign on the side of a little corner diner. He parks around the back, adjusting his pants and smoothing down his shirt before heading inside, a little bell ringing as the door swings open. It's quiet, only one other person sitting at a booth in the back corner, a man who doesn't look when the bell dings, too absorbed in his own issues. 
“Hey, hun! Have a seat wherever and I'll be right over!” The waitress calls from somewhere behind the counter. Clint looks around and finally settles on sitting at the counter, spinning to face the counter on the bar stool. 
The waitress suddenly appears, smoothing out her skirt before turning to face him and when she does, Clint momentarily forgets how to breathe. She is the most gorgeous woman he's ever seen and her smile makes him feel warm and safe, things he hasn't felt since he was a child. And even then, that's debatable. 
Her smile is bright and wide. “Sorry to make you wait! That damn sink pipe’s entire purpose is to annoy me, I swear. Want some coffee, hun?” She's already got the pot in her hand, regular, not decaf. He nods and she pours him a mug with a smile, sliding a small bowl with some creamer and sugar packets towards him. 
“You look hungry. You a steak man?”
Clint pours one of the sugar packets into his black coffee. “I like steak.”
“Great! The steak here is-” She leans closer to him “-edible. But it's best in town at 3am!”
Clint chuckles, the sound almost unfamiliar to him. “Sounds perfect.”
She writes down his order and turns, placing the ticket in a clip and rotating it, dinging another bell so the cook knows he has an order. 
“James? You back there? You have an order!”
There's some sort of affirmative grunted towards her that she accepts with a shake of her head, turning back to face Clint. 
“James is a nice guy. Lost his hearing in one ear in the war. Sometimes you have to be a little louder for him. At his request of course.” 
Clint nods and takes a sip of his coffee, expecting it to taste bitter and cheap, exactly like what you'd expect coffee at a diner open at 3am to taste like. But to his surprise, it doesn't. A pleasant mix of coffee beans washes over his tongue and he can't help a little moan escape him. 
A different smile, this one more sly. “You enjoying your coffee?”
Clint feels the tips of his ears heat up. “Uh, yeah.”
“I'm glad you like it, Mr….” Her eyebrows raised and Clint chokes down his sip. 
“Clint. No need for a Mr., ma'am.”
She waves her hand with another smile. “No ma'am here. I'm not that old!” She chuckles and tells him her name. “But everyone calls me Poppy.”
Poppy. He likes that name. It makes him feel happier somehow, like she's somehow taking care of him, not just because she's a waitress. 
She continues chatting with him while she bustles around, cleaning things and restocking sugar trays, and cleaning menus, Clint chiming in now and again. The man in the back corner eventually leaves and they're alone in the diner together. Aside from James in the back, who had just set his plate down on the back counter. 
“Thanks, James!”
“I'm going out for a smoke, Poppy.” 
She gives him a thumbs up and James takes off his apron, walking out of the side door. Poppy turns and makes a little fanfare of bringing him his diner steak and potatoes, setting it down in front of him and then casually placing the A1 steak sauce next to him. 
“You might need this.” She winks at him and he melts, what can only be described as butterflies in his stomach. 
Get it together, Clint. You don't do this. You don't like people like this. Fall for people. 
But then he's done with his steak, telling her some funny stories from his childhood. She's sitting across the bar from him, leaning on her elbows as she listens, laughing at all the right places. He's trying desperately hard to not be obvious in staring at her boobs, which had been pushed together tighter the more she leans forward. 
“If you don't mind me asking, Poppy. Why are you working this shitty shift?”
She cocks her head to the side slightly, her eyes on his. “Someone has to be here to serve you.”
He nods. “Yes but why you?” 
She waits a moment. “Maybe I'm just waiting for the right man to come on by.”
Shit. He had told himself she wasn't flirting, that she was just being nice to him for a tip. That he could just flirt a little and then be on his way. Normally, he'd take her out back and fuck her in his truck, promises to call again that he knows he'd never fulfill. But none of those women were her. None of them made him feel this way, her laugh and big eyes smiling at him while he sits here with blood on his hands and his past full of monsters.
So instead, he surprises himself. 
“Can I take you to dinner sometime?”
She glances at the clock on the wall. “If you're not too tired, I'm off in an hour and you can take me for breakfast.”
He smiles an actual genuine smile. “Breakfast it is.”
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The conversation flows between them at breakfast, both of them laughing and joking throughout it all. And at the end, he walks her to her car, asking her on another date before they reach it, her enthusiastic “yes” giving him the confidence to kiss her, his hands cupping her face as their lips melt together. He presses her back against the side of her car, his body aching to be with her, inside of her. But not like this. She's different. She's special. He wants to take his time with Poppy. So he pulls back, a promise to pick her up in 2 nights for dinner. 
Clint takes her out on several more dates, falling harder for her each time he sees her, hears her laugh, sees how attentive she is towards him. He doesn't think he deserves her, knows he doesn't, but maybe she's his way out of his world of darkness and bad deeds. The world he's kept hidden from her, whether because he's afraid she'd leave him or he's too afraid to bring his darkness into her light he's not sure. 
But Clint knows he can't leave her. He's gone too far. 
2 weeks in, and his resolve to treat her like a lady, an actual relationship, which is what they'd finally called it, snaps when she opens her door in a black dress that accentuates everything about her that he loves. 
“I know we were supposed to go out tonight Clint, but I thought maybe I could cook for you instead?” She looks nervously up at him and he knows right there, he'd do anything she asked him to.
“If it's not too much trouble.”
She shakes her her, chuckling lightly. “Not at all. Come on in.” 
Clint follows her inside, hearing her lock the door behind him. He kicks his boots off and places them by the door. 
“I thought we could have steak. A real one. Dear James does his best with what he has but…” her voice trails off and Clint chuckles. 
“Steak sounds delicious.”
“Great! Would you like a quick drink before I start cooking? Or are you too hungry?”
“A drink sounds great, thanks.”
He takes a beer from her and she leads him to the couch. They both sit, taking sips from their drinks before setting them on the coffee table. He's nervous, his palms a little sweaty. Why is he so nervous? Clint looks at Poppy and he can see the way she's shifting around slightly, obviously nervous herself, which somehow gives him the confidence he needs. Confidence that he's never had a problem with before. 
When he touches his lips to hers, he knows he belongs to her forever. 
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POPPY
I knew what I was doing, inviting Clint in for dinner instead of going to a restaurant as we had planned. But I wanted to take care of him, try and help quell that sadness and regret hidden just behind his eyes, the darkness he swallows and blinks away when our eyes meet, for the sake of me. 
We settle on the couch, each taking a sip of our respective drinks before setting them on the coffee table. I see him wipe his palms across his jeans, a sweet, nervous gesture and I smile shyly, turning my head to the side to tuck some hair behind my ear. I look back up at him and find him looking at me already, his deep brown eyes seeing into me and I feel myself stepping off the cliff, diving headfirst into love. Could it be love this early? I’d felt it before once, in my youth. But I had been burned and so kept my heart behind a lock but somehow, Clint already had the key. 
He keeps his eyes on mine when he slides closer to me, hesitating briefly before placing his hand on my bare thigh, my skin tingling where he touches me. I angle my body towards him a little more, feeling his large hand cup my cheek, a soft smile on his lips before he leans in, pressing his lips to mine. We’ve kissed plenty, made out in the back of his truck for hours and hours, but this is different. The energy has shifted, our paths fully converging to become one. 
He slides his hand on my thigh up higher and I spread my legs for him, opening more than just my body to him. His fingertips brush against my panties and I inhale sharply against his lips, his hand stalling. 
“Is..is this ok?” He asks, a nervous tremble in his voice.
“Please,” I whisper, begging him to touch me again. “Please touch me.”
He kisses me again, pushing his tongue into my eager mouth and I feel him between my legs again, gently stroking up and down, up and down, feeling how wet my underwear has become. He pushes aside my panties, slowly swirling one thick finger around me before pushing in, my whine breaking our kiss before he grunts out, mumbling something about how tight I feel. 
He deepens the kiss, his finger gently stroking inside of me, brushing against me and I moan into his mouth, my legs twitching. When he stops, pulling away from me, I think I’ve done something wrong. But then he slides from the couch, getting on his knees, kissing my thighs as he hooks his fingers in my underwear, sliding them off and tossing them over his shoulder. He pushes my legs open wide, putting them over his shoulders as he stares between my legs, eyes dark and admiring. 
He looks up at me and I nod, knowing what he wants even though I’m not really experienced with it. He places soft kisses on my inner thighs, slowly moving to where his hand had been moments before. When his tongue touches me, I gasp, a breathy “oh” escaping me while my thighs try to slam against his head of their own volition. He chuckles against me and I moan at the vibration, feeling him wrap his hands around my legs to push me open wider. His tongue is relentless, swirling around, tapping, and I reach for him, tangling my fingers into his hair and tugging on it when he lightly sucks on me.
“Oh…oh, I-” I break open, cry out as I come, Clint’s tongue guiding me through my release. I release his hair, my legs falling open as he sits back, wiping his face with the back of his hand. 
He stands, offering me his hand and I take it, allowing him to pull me up against his body. He smells like cedar, a hint of cigarette smoke, and me, my head swimming with the scent of it all. 
“Bedroom?” He asks, his eyebrows raised.
I nod, almost too much in my enthusiasm. “This way.”
I take his hand and lead him on wobbly legs down the small hallway to my bedroom, grateful that I had made the bed this morning. Clint closes the door behind himself and turns to look at me. Several long moments pass where we just look at each other, the energy in the air electric, as if he didn’t have his head between my legs just moments ago. He closes the distance between us in a step or 2, stopping just short of me.
“Turn.”
I do as he says, feeling his large hand work my zipper down, his fingers brushing against my skin as he pulls the dress down and off, coming back to do the same to my bra. He moves my hair off my neck, placing soft kisses there as one hand wraps around my boob and the other dips a finger between my thighs. My head lolls back and I moan, feeling him pinch and tug at my nipple as I get wetter and wetter. I can feel him nearly bulging out of his jeans, the denim pressed against my ass, so I gently grab his wrists and turn around. 
I say nothing as I start to unbutton his flannel, sliding it down and off his broad shoulders, noting the appearance of a new scratch on his chest since the last time he’d taken his shirt off around me. I keep my eyes on his face as my hands unlatch his belt, popping open the button on his pants before carefully sliding down his zipper. I push his jeans down, getting on my knees to help slide them off of his legs. I look up at him as I pull down his underwear, a small grunt from him as he springs free. I want to return the favor, take him in my mouth but then his hand grips my chin, pulling me back to standing. 
“I’d love to feel your mouth on me, but Poppy, I want to make love to you.”
He helps me lay back on the bed, his eyes roaming over my naked body, more dark loving than I’ve ever seen them.
“You’re so beautiful, Poppy.”
I spread my legs, allowing him to settle between them. He kisses me, soft at first, his mustache tickling my upper lip, his hands sliding across my body, goosebumps following in his wake. His lips travel down my neck, finding a spot just below the side of my jaw that has me squirming, my fingers burying themselves in his hair. 
But then he pushes in and the world stops, nothing else in the world exists but us. We meld together, our bodies moving as one, slotting together like we were made for each other. I writhe under him, his hips breaking me open out of my cocoon, showing me what pleasure really is, what love really is. His hips thrust a little harder and I come, his name tumbling from my lips like a chant, praising him as my nails dig into his back. I feel his hips sputter, soft grunts and pants in my ear as he comes with me, his forehead coming to rest against mine. 
“Holy shit,” he says, his breath puffing out against my face. “That was..”
“It was.”
He lifts his head and looks at me, kissing me softly before pulling out, and getting a washcloth to clean me up. 
A steak dinner never tasted so good.
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CLINT
He was the happiest he’d ever been. Poppy was a beacon of light in the darkness that was his life, always there to welcome him with open arms. It had only been a few weeks, but he loved her. He knew deep down that he never wanted to be without her. 
He just felt so fucking guilty about it. 
He was torn on telling her about his job, his real job, not the one he told her he did. He wasn’t a delivery man, although he did deliver whatever terrible fate that The Guy bestowed upon those who crossed him in business. He’d been a little too preoccupied tonight and his mark managed to slice his cheek with a knife before Clint snuffed the life from him.
But Poppy doesn’t even question it, just takes him into the bathroom and gently cleans his cut, dabbing some alcohol on it that burns, but not enough to distract him from the guilt he feels. He knows he has to get out. 
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A few months go by and he couldn’t be happier with Poppy. They had been dating for about 8 months and he wanted desperately to ask her to move in with him, but first he had to leave The Guy. He couldn’t have him showing up whenever he felt like it. No matter what, he would protect Poppy from that side of his life. 
After he kills his next mark, he heads back to The Guy to give him his confirmation of delivery, so-to-speak. 
“What would I do without you, Clint?”
Clint shifts his weight to his back leg, hands on his hips. “Actually, I need to talk to you about that.”
The Guy sits back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. “Oh?”
Clint clears his throat. “Yeah. I uh, I need to retire.”
The Guy raises an eyebrow. “Retire?”
“Yeah. My body isn’t what it used to be. My knees almost gave out tonight. I can’t continue like this.”
The guy sits there, his fingers still laced together as he studies Clint. “You have served me well, Clint. I’ll let you out, holding onto that evidence in case you try to cross me-”
“I would never. I’m not a snitch.”
The Guy holds up a hand. “I know. One can never be too careful these days. I think you get that?” Clint nods. “Good. I’ll let you out but I have one more delivery for you to make first. You’re the only one I can trust with it. What do you say?”
Clint stands there for a moment, thinking about his options. He only has one. “Deal.”
They shake on it, The Guy gives him the details, and Clint is out the door, feeling a little lighter now that he can see the light at the end of the tunnel. He’s finally getting out, starting a new life free of bloodshed with the love of his life.
He killed that last mark in near record time, The Guy shaking his hand and thanking him for all of his hard work. 
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He knows she’s on the late shift again tonight, so after he cleans up, Clint heads over to the diner, their diner, watching Poppy move about through the dusty window. She smiles at a customer, but when Clint walks in and she sees him, her entire faces lights up, her eyes beaming as she crosses the room, pressing her lips to his and forgetting herself for a few seconds before pulling back, her face hot.
“Clint! To what do I owe this surprise?”
“Move in with me.”
He hadn’t meant to ask it like that, so blunt and harsh. But he couldn’t wait anymore and it sort of just came out when he opened his mouth. Surprise on her face, her eyes widening for a moment before that smile splits her face again, the one she has only for him.
“When can I get my things?”
They get married exactly 1 year from the day they met.
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“Poppy! What are you doing?” Clint rushes into the kitchen, quickly snatching the knife Poppy was using to spread peanut butter on her sandwich. 
“Clint, I’m pregnant, not sick. I can do it myself.”
“The doctor said to rest.”
She smiled, a soft smile and squeezed his bicep. “The doctor said for me to relax the last 2 months. Not stay in bed entirely.”
Clint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just..let me do things for you, ok? Have a seat on the couch and I’ll bring your food.”
Poppy looks like she wants to argue for a moment, but then gives in, tossing her hands in the air before heading into the living room. 
“And don’t forget the-”
“Apples. I got it, Poppy.”
Clint arranges 2 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and some apple slices on a plate, also grabbing a glass of water to set on the coffee table in front of her. She reaches for the plate with grabby hands, smiling and shifting her weight as she settles in, making light work of the food before downing half the glass of water. 
“Thanks, babe.”
Clint puts his arm around her shoulders and kisses her head. “Anything for you.” He shifts a little. “You need a foot massage?”
“The day I turn down a foot massage, just know I’m a clone.”
Clint chuckles as he helps Poppy turn, laying back on the couch, her head on the arm. He takes one of her feet in his hands and starts to work them, spending extra time on the knots and sore spots. The sounds Poppy makes has him shifting in his seat, his hands starting to work up her legs. He gets to her upper thighs, leaning down to press kisses along her inner thigh before she gently grabs his wrist. 
“Hey now, that’s what put this here,” she gestures to her belly. 
Clint presses another kiss to her inner thigh, higher up this time, listening as her breath hitches. “Well then, let me help you relax.”
Clint spends the next hour buried between her legs, Poppy’s fingers twisting in his hair, his fingers digging into her legs as she chants his name over and over and he thinks this would be the perfect way to go: smothered between his wife’s thighs.
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“And that makes the last payment! Will you be taking home the crib today, sir?”
Clint puts his wallet in his pocket, nodding to the cashier. “I’ve got my truck out front.”
“Let me call for some help.” The cashier leans over her mic and asks for someone named John to come to the front for customer assistance. She makes idle chit chat with Clint, asking how his wife is doing so close to her due date.
“She’s stubborn and better be sitting her ass down and letting me take care of her,” Clint chuckles along with the cashier. 
“Don’t be too hard on her. She is fighting that nesting urge. It’s hard to resist, trust me!”
John comes up and takes the other end of the large box that contains a beautiful wooden crib that Poppy had laid eyes on months ago, determined to have that exact one for their baby. Clint had put it on layaway that same day, making sure he’d pay it off in time to assemble it before the baby’s arrival. He thanks John and takes off, glancing in the back at the box and smiling a little, already envisioning Poppy’s ecstatic face when she sees what he’s brought home. He turns onto their gravel drive, pulling into his parking spot and shifting the truck to park. He glances up at the house before reaching for the handle and freezes.
The door is cracked open. 
It’s very unlike Poppy to leave the door open, even when bringing in groceries. Clint’s eyes remain glued to the door, but he leans over to open the glovebox, carefully extracting the handgun he had stashed there. He checks the make sure it’s loaded before getting out of the truck, cautiously moving towards the front door, his stomach twisting tighter and tighter the closer he got. 
There were wood chips on the front step, an indication that this was not simply a case of forgetting to close the door. Someone had broken in. Gently, he pushes the door open, waiting a moment and hears nothing. He steps inside, gun raised and ears on high alert for anything, any sound. The main hall and living room are empty, aside from furniture tossed about, some of it destroyed. But as he cuts through the dining room just about to reach the kitchen, his boot slips and he looks down, choking back the fear and panic that immediately threatened to take him over.
Blood. 
He pushes into the kitchen, eyes roaming around at the mess and then he steps around the island, dropping to the floor and tossing the gun aside. 
“Poppy? Oh God Poppy? Can you hear me?” He cradles her head in his lap, tears flowing down his cheeks. Her color is pale and he can’t tell where the blood is coming from exactly. But then she blinks and he lets out a choking cry as she looks at him.
“Hey baby! Don’t move. I’m gonna call someone.”
“C…Cl…Clint…” Her words are choked and he can tell she’s holding back tears.
“Ssshh don’t talk, baby. You’ll be alright. I’m here now.” He reaches up on the counter, hand tapping around and landing on the phone before pulling it down to him. He quickly dials 9-1-1, barking at the responder to send an ambulance immediately before Poppy calls his name again and he drops the phone.
“They’re coming, Poppy. Just hold on.”
“Clint…I…I love you.”
“Hey now, none of that. You’re going to be ok, you hear me?” His throat is tight, his stomach churning as he pets her head, wiping the blood onto his pants. 
“Please..be happy. I want…want you to be..be happy.”
“I will be happy because you’ll be here with me.” He cradles her head in his lap, the tears falling harder and she reaches up, a wavering hand smeared with blood that she places on his cheek. Their eyes meet and in them he can see her resolve, her sorrow not for her own life but for him, for not being able to be here for him.
“Be happy, Clint. Have..have a good life. I can’t wait-” she gasps and closes her eyes for a moment before blinking them open and he can already see the glossiness in them. “-can’t wait to hear..all about it. I…I love you, Clint.” 
He swallows hard. “I love you too, baby.”
She smiles, one last time before she slumps, the light in her eyes that hard brightened his life gone, snuffed out too soon. Clint wails, yells, screams, and sobs into the empty house, holding her close. The pain is too loud, too raw and real, threatening to overtake him. But then people are in their house, his house, trying to take her from him. He fights back, yelling and screaming they can’t take her from him, and then he feels a sting in his neck before the world blacks out around him. 
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It’s a bright and sunny day, the sky a vibrant shade of blue, and just the right amount of fluffy, white clouds in the sky. Poppy would call it the most perfect of days, warm but not too warm, the perfect day to spend outside. 
Clint blinks in the sunlight as he watches them lower 2 caskets into the ground, one considerably smaller than the other, the priest saying some sort of prayer over them as the people gathered around shed their tears. Clint picks up a handful of dirt, holding it in his hand for a few moments while he stares down at the wooden boxes that contain his family, his future, all taken from him in the blink of a violent eye. He always thought he’d be the one to go out that way, in a bloody mess. But not them. They didn’t deserve this.
Clint tosses the dirt on the caskets and steps back, letting her parents toss handfuls on top as well, not really hearing them when they bring him in for a hug and mumble something about coming over for dinner. He doesn’t hear any of them as they file past him, patting his shoulder, telling him if he needs anything to just call. That they were all here for him. But what he needs the most, they can’t provide. No one can bring them back, bring her back.
Clint returns home, skipping the wake at her parents’ house for some quiet contemplation. The house is nearly silent, only the clock on the wall and the hum of the appliances make any sort of noise. Clint sits at the little table they had in the kitchen, staring down at the floor where he had held her for the last moments of her life. 
He had cried so much since then, wailing and screaming at the world, begging whomever is listening to take him instead, that he would gladly switch places with them, give up his sorry life for them to have a chance. But of course, nothing happened besides his throat hurting, his eyes stinging from overuse. 
But as he stares at the floor, depression and sorrow washing over him, a small thought ticks at the back of his head. He initially had thought it was a random break in, not all uncommon in Oakland. But when he had picked up the pieces of his broken life, he had noticed that nothing had been missing. All of Poppy’s jewelry, despite most of it being costume jewelry, was still there, so was the tv and pretty much everything else. It hadn’t clicked then, too preoccupied in his immediate grief to really think. 
This wasn’t a random act of violence. This was targeted. This was specific. This was for him. 
Clint hates himself anew, burying his face in his hands at the idea of him being the cause of their death. But then it hits him, washes over him and changes his purpose. Once it was to take care of her, of his family, but that had been ripped away and so had his future, his purpose. 
Vengeance. 
He had nothing left to lose. Nothing that anyone could possibly take from him. So why not go out in a blaze of violence, taking down everyone that was connected to his wife and child’s death.
Clint pushes his sorrow aside, locking it away gently as he gets to work locating those who would soon meet their day of judgement.
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Several months later…
Clint sits in his truck, staring at the entrance to a seedy bar, watching a few wayward souls enter, one punching the other in the arm before the door closes behind them. He glances down at the paper in his hand, triple checking that he had the address right. He takes out a lighter and burns the paper, waiting until the last embers fade out before getting out of his truck and heading inside. 
He sits at the bar and orders a drink, taking a few sips before flagging down the bartender again, asking him if he recognizes a few names. The bartender, a middle aged man with eyes that had seen war, stares at him for a few moments before nodding towards a corner, a small group of men standing around the pool table. Clint thanks the bartender, leaving a large tip on the counter before turning in his stool to watch the men. There were 4 of them and they were already towing the line between buzzed and drunk, slightly stumbling around before taking their shots. 
Clint moves silently over, quietly sliding his blade into 2 of them, not waiting for their bodies to crumble to the floor before the other two even noticed he was there. One tried to swing at him, which he dodges easily, his blade quieting the man’s movements. The last guy, Rick, backed into a corner, desperately fumbling with something he had in the back of his pants, presumably a gun. Clint takes 2 large steps towards him, a second too late to see the man stop searching for the gun and grab a knife instead, swinging it wide and slicing into Clint’s side.
Clint stumbles, grunting for a moment before straightening up, dodging the man’s swings, ignoring the yelps from the other bar patrons as Rick swings wildly, knife cutting into the air just in front of Clint. He gets a few more blows in, pain searing into Clint before he grabs Rick’s wrist, turning it with a crack, Rick yelping in pain as his knife drops to the floor. Clint gets his knife to Rick’s side, pinning him against the wall.
“You killed my family.”
“Wh..what?”  
Clint presses the knife a little harder and Rick grunts in pain. “You killed my family.”
“Look look look. I don’t know who you are, man!” Another small push and Rick yelps again. “Can you be more specific?”
Clint glares at him. “In my kitchen. Woman. Pregnant.”
The color seems to drain from the man’s face as he recognizes the situation. “Oh..oh..well, listen, we were just given’ the assignment, right? No hard feelings. We were just doing what we were told!”
“Who told you?”
“Ah, look man. I can’t just-” Clint pushes the knife further, feeling warmth start to seep out around the knife. “-ok ok! Fuck, stop! I’ll tell you!” He whispers a name to Clint, a name that sounded vaguely familiar. Frances Stokes. He thinks he’s worked with him before.
“Is that all?” Clint barks out.
Rick furiously nods his head. “Yes, yes!”
“Thanks.” Clint drives the knife further in and up, waiting for Rick to slump over. But when he turns around, the barrel of a gun is pointed at him, the bartender obviously nervous.
“Get out of here, man! Just go!”
Clint doesn’t need telling twice. He doubts anyone in here will say anything, each of them involved in their other dark dealings to be in a place like this. Clint makes it to the front door, stumbling out onto the sidewalk, his hand clutched to his side. He glances down at his hand, seeing the crimson shine in the street light. He glances up and for a moment is transported: a woman, the same hair as Poppy’s stares back at him, only a few feet away, eyes wide as she takes him in. 
“Look out!” She yells at him, just in time for Clint to turn, stopping the man that had been running up behind him with a fist to his stomach. They both fall to the ground, rolling and punching before Clint gets on top, letting his fists fly as the guy’s head slams against the pavement. Clint shifts off of him, turning to see the woman still there, her hair like a shining beacon before he feels himself falling backwards, the blackness swallowing him.
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Sunlight warms his face and for a moment, Clint feels transported. Like he was at home, safe in his bed with-
He blinks awake, reality slamming into him as he remembers punching the guy out before blacking out. His head feels like it’s splitting in 2, and his side hurts bad, like he had been stabbed - wait. He had been stabbed. He tries to sit up, groaning and laying back down when his head felt like it was splitting open.
“Hey, he lives! I wouldn’t sit up just yet.” 
Clint blinks rapidly a few times, the disembodied voice trying to permeate its way into the meat that is his brain right now. But then a person moves into his vision and it all comes flooding back: the woman from outside the bar. The one with hair just like Poppy’s.
“Where..” Clint coughs, just realizing how dry his mouth is. 
“Take it easy. I have some water here with a straw.” The woman grabs a cup off the side table and holds it next to him, pinching the straw inbetween her thumb and pointer finger so it stays in place. Clint debates for a moment on taking the drink from a stranger, but then again, if she had wanted to kill him, she’d have left him on that sidewalk. So he takes a few greedy sips before she pulls the straw from his mouth.
“Take it easy. Small sips.”
“Throat..dry.”
“Yeah, I know. You’ve been out for 2 days. But you have to take small sips so you don’t overload your system.”
Clint nods and the straw returns. He does as she says and realizes she was right. She sets the cup back on the side table.
“Where am I?” Clint lets out a small cough.
“You’re at my apartment. I couldn’t just leave you there, not after you took care of that man.”
The man. Right. “He ok?”
“I shouldn’t have bothered checking him, not after he nearly attacked me, but I’m a nurse and I took an oath so,” She gestures vaguely around the room. “He died on the sidewalk.”
Well that’s one less thing he has to worry about. “You don’t seem shaken about that.”
Her eyes go somewhere else for a moment before she blinks. “I’m no stranger to death.”
Silence rules the room for several long moments. 
“Are you hungry? I have some pain pills but we should get some food in you too. I also have some clean towels and clothes in the bathroom if you’d like to shower.”
“I think food sounds good.”
She nods and heads out of the room, distant sounds coming from the kitchen. Clint looks around the room. It was obviously her bedroom, sparsely decorated but a few photos of presumably family sit in frames on her dresser, as does an empty vase. She has a random poster on the wall, a movie poster for The Thing. The blanket he has is soft and light blue, but not frilly like he’d expect. But it is warm and comforting. She comes back in with a tray, a bowl of vegetable soup and a grilled cheese sandwich sitting on it, a glass of water off to the side. She places it on the dresser and walks to him. 
“Let me help you sit up.”
“Oh, I don’t want to mess your sheets up.”
She waves her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I can always get new sheets.”
She helps him sit up, Clint holding his head for several moments before the searing pain abates. She puts the tray over his lap, tapping on the tray next to 2 small pills. “Make sure to take those now and eat some food after. I’ll let you eat.”
Clint reaches for the pills. “Thanks, Flo.”
She cocks her head and looks at him. “Flo?”
Clint pops the pills in his mouth, taking a few more sips of water to swallow them with, hoping they act fast. “Yeah. Like Florence Nightingale. The nurse?”
She smiles and tells him her name. “But Flo. I like it.”
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That night, Flo insists he takes her bed again, that he needs the space to recover. He tries to argue but she’ll have none of it, promptly telling him goodnight and to yell if he needs anything before closing the door most of the way. 
The pain in his side keeps him from getting a good sleep, pain throbbing out from the wound Flo had stitched up. He didn’t want to bother her, he could just grunt through it, but then she was there, softly pushing the door open and rubbing sleep from her eyes. 
“Fuck, didn’t mean to wake you, Flo.”
She yawns and stretches, her sleep shirt lifting a little and exposing a sliver of skin. “You didn’t. I have to get up for work anyway. But I can see you’re in pain. The meds not working?”
He shakes his head. “Not really.”
“That happens sometimes when you gain consciousness. Give me a minute.” She disappears into the other room and returns a few minutes later, some scrubs tossed quickly on. She has a small pill bottle in her hand and she shakes one out, handing it to Clint.
“You can have one of these now but not another until I get home, ok? It’s pretty strong so don’t go mixing it with alcohol or anything.”
Clint nods. “Got it.” He pops the pill and swallows it, thanking Flo as she sets down some food next to him. 
“I’m going to be home this evening, but if you need me, here’s my work number. Just ask for me.” She sets a piece of paper down next to the phone on the nightstand. She pauses for a moment and looks at him. “I’ll uh..see you tonight.”
The meds kick in when she leaves and mercifully, they knock him out, Clint finally able to get the sleep his body desperately needed.
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Fuck, getting injured at his age was not fun. Stabbings hurt a lot more than they used to. When Flo gets home she brings him more food, then has him take another pain pill. He passes out again, his dreams carrying him to dark places with familiar violent themes. He thrashes about, trying to rid himself of the images, and is yanked from his nightmare by a hand squeezing his shoulder. Clint’s eyes fly open and Poppy is standing there, her hair framing her face. He reaches out to touch her cheek, his fingers barely touching her soft skin.
“Poppy?”
She’s saying something that he can’t make out, so he shakes his head and blinks a few times. But when he opens them, he sees Flo standing there, worry etched in her features. 
“Clint! Are you with me?”
He puts his hand to his head and nods. “I…I think so.”
She puts her hand on his chest, trying to help him slow his breathing. “Are you ok? You were making a lot of noise.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be. Are you ok?”
He takes a moment, his head still foggy. “I…will be. I think.”
She stands there for another moment. “Who’s Poppy?”
Clint's eyes harden as he glares at her. “What did you say?”
Flo pulls her hand back, regret in her eyes. “Poppy. You were calling her name. Is it someone I can call for-”
“NO! Don’t ever say that name again! Get out!”
Flo nods and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Tears immediately fall down his cheeks and he buries his face in the pillow, remembering the first and last time he’d seen Poppy.
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It was nearly a week before he could tolerate not being on those heavy pain meds. Basic ones now worked just as well and his head started to clear. He was having flashes of memories from the week but nothing concrete. He did feel like he needed to apologize to Flo but for what, he couldn’t clearly remember.
Clint walks to the kitchen, the movement feeling good. He puts together a dinner of sorts, random things he can find in Flo’s fridge that seems to just have ingredients, nothing premade. He just sits on the couch, taking a bite of a sandwich when the front door opens and Flo walks in, gently shaking out her coat before hanging it on the hook. 
“Raining?” Clint asks, his mouth still full of sandwich.
“Oh, hey! Yeah. Not so bad here but it was pouring by the hospital.” She moves around to sit next to him on the couch, her eyes studying him. “How are you feeling?”
“So much better. I really can’t thank you enough.”
She glances down at his plate with his small sandwich. “Why don’t I whip us up something warm? Just give me a few minutes to wash off the day.”
“Oh you don’t-”
“I have to eat too. I’ll just make more.”
She made something called pesto pasta, which Clint had never heard of before. It was different but he would eat it again for sure. They watched some game show and then the news before Flo was yawning. 
“You want to take your bed back tonight?”
“No, that’s ok. You take it. I’ve got my own little nest going out here.”
Clint chuckles. “If you’re sure.”
He gets ready for bed and sits down to get comfortable. It was then he noticed that he had left his medicine in the living room. Before he could do anything, there was a soft knock at the door and Flo comes in carrying the pain meds. 
“You forgot these. Figured you’d want them.”
“Thanks.” Clint takes the bottles and pops them open, swallowing the pills with the glass of water on the nightstand. Flo turns to leave but Clint stops her.
“Wait. Can I ask you something?”
Flo turns around to look at him. “Sure.”
“Did I…did I do or say anything to you when I was on those big meds?”
Her face hardens slightly. “Nothing I’m not used to. It’s ok.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry. What did I say?”
“It’s ok, really. I’ve had worse.”
“It’s not ok to me.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Flo, please. Tell me.”
She hesitates a moment, her eyes bouncing between his before she sits on the bed. 
“You were making a lot of noise one night and I came in to check on you. Your eyes opened but I don’t think you were really seeing things. You kept calling me Poppy. And when I asked who she was, you flipped out.”
Clint’s jaw tightens as the memory floods back. Her hair. That’s what made him think…
“Listen, you don’t have to tell me, Clint. I just wanted to know if I needed to call someone-”
“Poppy…was my wife.”
“Oh.”
Silence stretches on for several seconds before Clint swallows hard, continuing.
“She was…the love of my life. Made me a better man. Great woman. We got married…got pregnant. And then…” Clint clears his throat, blinking back tears, Flo waiting patiently, letting him take his time.
“I came home one day and they were…I held her while she…died.” He whispers the last word, but it’s like he yelled it, screamed it. He’d never talked about it with anyone, not even Poppy’s parents. 
Flo puts her hand on his and squeezes. “I’m so sorry, Clint.” He just nods, trying not to lose his shit in front of her. 
“You have her hair. It’s almost exactly like hers. So I guess I saw it and mixed with the meds, I thought…you were her.”
Flo nods, squeezing his hand a little harder. “I understand.”
Clint looks at her, his eyes hardening slightly. “How would you understand? How would you know what it’s like?”
She takes a deep breath before puffing it out. “I was engaged once. High school sweethearts. We were waiting to get married until we were out of school. Anyway, he was taking night classes and one night, this other guy decided it would be super fun to get drunk and drive….I lost my future that night. And I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
Fuck. So she did know exactly how it feels.
“You remind me of him sometimes.” She says it so quietly Clint almost misses it.
“I do?”
“Yeah. It’s not…it’s in your small movements, the way the light hits your hair sometimes. So..I get it. Honestly, it’s just nice having someone else here. Someone who gets it.”
“Yeah. It is.” Clint squeezes her hand back and she looks at him, her eyes big in the lamp light, the glow bouncing off her hair and looking just like Poppy’s. 
Their hands stay intertwined for several long moments, Clint rubbing his thumb gently over the back of her hand. She scoots a little closer to him, her hand gently sliding up his arm. Clint’s breath picks up as her hand cups his cheek and they lock eyes, both silently asking the other if this was ok. Clint hesitates for a moment before slowly lowering his head to hers, their lips gently touching. Flo’s lips are soft and a little more plush than Poppy’s, but her tongue timidly brushing against his lips is all the permission he needs. 
His hand slides to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulls her close, his tongue dancing with hers. She moans softly, clutching at his shirt and he feels his pants growing tighter. Flo pulls back slightly, resting her forehead against his. 
“Bedroom. Nurse’s orders.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Flo takes his hand and leads him to the bedroom, the door closing behind them. For a moment they stare at each other, another moment of confirmation before she starts to pull her shirt off, the rest of her clothes following. Clint matches her actions, his own clothes falling into a pile on the floor. His eyes roam over her body before stepping forward, pulling her face to his again. Her fingers glide up the sides of his body, her warmth pressing into him and it all feels so intense, but not bad. He walks her backwards, her legs hitting the bed and she breaks the kiss to climb up it, Clint crawling over her, Flo’s legs opening to give him space. Her hands lightly squeeze his biceps, which feels nice but then the light from outside hits her hair a certain way and for a moment he’s transported, sees Poppy. 
His hips push against hers as his hand grips her hair, her heat enveloping him as she moans, her legs wrapping around him. He blinks and it’s Flo again, but as he works his hips against hers, the light catches every now and then in her hair, he gets flashes of Poppy.
Fuck, this feels good. It had been so long since he’d held someone, felt them touch him like this. He had been alone for too long, not letting himself live fully. He felt guilty, even with Poppy telling him to live his life. His eyes find Flo’s and he can tell she goes somewhere else occasionally too, his guilt slightly lessening at the thought he’s bringing her some comfort like she is him.
He can feel himself getting closer to the edge. He licks his fingers and snakes them between their bodies, teasing her between her legs. He can feel her starting to squirm, her breaths starting to pick up. Clint grabs her hand with his free one, lacing their fingers together as he pushes her hand into the mattress slightly above her head. Her fingers dig into his skin but the second she tightens around him he comes, burying his face in her hair. 
When he rolls off of her, Clint pulls her to him, feeling her nuzzle further into his chest before falling asleep. He stays awake a little longer, gently tracing shapes on her back as he thinks.
In the morning, just before the sun rises, he gets dressed, gathering up the handful of personal items he had. He hesitates briefly, staring down Flo as she sleeps. He presses a kiss to her head, silently thanking her for everything she had done for him before he steps out into the morning light, back into his life of violence.
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A Few Months Later…
“You thought you could just kill my family and nothing would happen?” Clint twists the knife he had in the man’s leg, smirking when he screams out in pain.
“N..no!”
“Then why did you come for them?” Clint taps the knife and the man whimpers. 
“I wasn’t…we weren’t going to.” Tears were streaming down the man’s face, fear at seeing the end of his life.
“But then you decided to try and find me? Why?”
The man takes a shuddering breath. “Will you not kill me if I tell you?”
Clint grips the knife and the man cries out. “How about I’ll kill you if you don’t?”
“OK! OK!” He takes another breath, inhaling sharply through his nose. “We weren’t trying to seek revenge. But then one day, we get invited to this house and get handed everything on you. Who you are, where you live, all of it.”
Clint cocks his head. “Who gave it to you? Why?”
“They..they said they would give us a chance at revenge. Only if we promise to…to take you out.”
“Take me out. Why did you kill my wife?”
The man blinks, swallowing hard. “We were told to since she was…since your line would be carried on.”
Clint had to take several deep breaths so he didn’t turn this man inside out. He still needed one more piece of information. Someone had betrayed him, and he had a strong feeling he knew who. He swallows down his rage and looks the man in his eyes.
“Who?” He grunts it through gritted teeth and the man shivers. 
“He’ll kill me.”
Clint twists the knife hard and the man screams, jerking around against his restraints. “Who?”
The man seems to rethink his situation. “The….The Guy.”
That was the answer Clint was hoping not to hear but had a suspicion he would. It was the only thing that made sense. The Guy didn’t want him to quit, his best hitman. He knew the only way Clint would come back would be to have someone take away his new life. And The Guy made sure of that. 
Before the man could beg, Clint yanked the knife from his leg and slit his throat, waiting until the gurgling and sputtering stopped, his body still before he sighs, getting to work on cleaning up the mess. But his mind was elsewhere, planning and plotting. Which is why he didn’t hear another man coming up behind him until it was too late, his body falling sideways and slamming into the ground. 
The man gets on top of him, pulling out a knife. Clint dodges as best he can, but he does get a good knick on his shoulder. Grunting, Clint throws his body weight and the man, a lot skinnier than him, gets thrown off balance. Clint pushes up and manages to flip them, gripping the man’s wrist and slamming it against the floor, the knife clattering across the ground. No weapon in hand, Clint reaches for the man’s head, but his shoulder sends searing pain down his arm. He must have dislocated it when he hit the ground. Instead, Clint grabs the man’s hair, slamming his head into the ground until he stops moving. He gets off the man and sits for a moment to catch his breath, his shoulder throbbing.
Well this will make cleaning up suck. 
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He can’t go to the hospital, but he knows he needs stitches. He can’t do it himself because of his fucking shoulder, which is just violently throbbing at this point. He knows where he can go, but should he? Finally, he gives in, knowing he has no other option. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Flo, he does. He really does. But that’s the exact reason he shouldn’t go. He doesn’t need to bring his shit to her.
He sighs, knocking on her door. It takes a moment but the door opens and there she is, almost glowing, just gorgeous. And for a moment, he’d forgotten why he was there.
“Oh! You’re bleeding!” Flo takes his hand but he jerks it back.
“Shoulder is dislocated.”
“You’re just all kinds of fun. Come on in.” 
Clint heads inside, kicking off his boots before following Flo into the kitchen. She pulls out a chair from the table and motions for him to sit down as she goes to get her med kit. She returns a moment later and sets it on the table, moving to stand next to him. 
“I take it you’ve had a dislocated shoulder before?” 
Clint looks up, her eyes big and round and he momentarily wonders why he had left. He nods, preparing himself while she gets into position, gripping him.
“Ready?”
“Just do it.”
Flo nods, looking down at his arm. “1…2…I’m pregnant.”
“What?! FUCK!” His arm pops back into place, the initial sharp pain quieting down to a dull ache. Flo hands him some pain meds and a glass of water but he pushes them away.
“What the fuck did you say?”
“Take these. You’ll need them. I’ll also sling your arm.” 
“Fuck the sling. Flo, you’re…you’re pregnant?”
She takes the sling off the table, not meeting his eyes yet. She helps him get situated in the sling and reaches for the alcohol to start dabbing at his other arm. Clint had completely forgotten about the knife gash. But before she starts, he grabs her wrist, giving it a little shake so she’ll look at him. She sighs and meets his gaze, worry etched in her face.
“I..am.”
“Who…am…am I…”
“I’ve only been with you since the accident.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He didn’t mean to get her pregnant. Fuck, this is not what either of them need. It’s not that he doesn’t want the kid. He would love to be a dad, was going to be a dad before…fuck. He has to kill The Guy or he’d find them and kill them too. FUCK. He has to protect them. Clint is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t even feel it when Flo starts to sew his wound, tying it off and putting a bandaid over it.
“You should be all set. Just try not to fuck with that shoulder too much.”
Clint’s mind clears and he focuses on the main objective: to keep Flo and his unborn child safe. He can’t let them die for him, for his mistakes. He will never let that happen again, even if it kills him.
“I’ve gotta go.” Clint abruptly stands and pushes past a bewildered Flo, grabbing his keys and closing the door gently behind him. It never occurs to him to say anything to Flo. She doesn’t need to know about this. About any of it. He’s so absorbed in his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the sobs coming from inside the home as he walks away from it. 
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It takes him another month to locate The Guy’s new hiding place. He imagines it would be difficult for anyone to find - anyone who doesn’t know The Guy like he does. Clint watches from his steakout point, his eyes hardening and his brain sliding into his job mode, compartmentalizing what he needs to do to protect his family. What he should’ve done before.
The bodyguards at the door hesitate when Clint walks towards them, but soon they are silenced, slumping to the ground before they even had time to draw their guns. Quietly, Clint moves inside, making his way down the hall, silencing another several guards. The Guy really needed to hire better employees. He pauses outside of what looks like a main door, listening. From inside, he hears a familiar voice, a voice that has commanded him to do so many violent things for him.    
“I don’t care what it takes, I want it done!” A phone slams down, The Guy sighs. “I swear, it’s so hard to find good help these days.” 
Clint listens for a few minutes, hearing no other movement behind the door aside from The Guy, assuming he was alone in his office. Clint takes a deep breath and stands straight, holding his gun at the ready before pushing in the door and aiming his gun directly at The Guy. When Clint enters, The Guy glances up, all color draining from his face. He was totally alone and he knew from looking at Clint that the cat was out of the bag.
“H-hey Clint. How’s retired life?”
“Why?”
Beads of sweat start to drip down The Guy’s temples. “Why what?”
“Why did you kill them?”
He seems to debate for a moment, settling on the truth instead of pretending he didn’t know. “Look man, good workers are hard to find. And you were the best. You did everything for me and so when you wanted to leave….well, you knew too much.”
“So you took out my family?”
The Guy shrugs. “I figured maybe you’d come back if you had nothing left. Besides, I couldn’t have you continuing your line if they’d go to work for someone-”
POP!
Clint fires his gun, hitting The Guy directly in the forehead, his body crumbling to the ground. He listens for a moment, but no one comes running. No one else is here. Clint lowers his gun, dropping to his knees and buries his face in his hands, wailing and screaming, as he gets closure on the last chapter of his life.
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Clint stands in front of Flo’s door, hesitating for a moment before knocking. He had been sitting in front of her apartment for another 2 weeks, making sure no one was casing the joint. But no one would - Clint had taken out the remainder of The Guy’s associates. No one would be coming for them. 
The door opens and Flo stands before him looking absolutely breath taking. Her eyes widen and her mouth nearly drops on the floor.
“Clint?” She whispers it, hesitating for a moment before reaching her hand out. 
“It’s me.”
SLAP!
Clint rubs at his cheek, chuckling a little to himself at the assault. He deserved that. He deserved more than that.
“What the fuck Clint? I tell you I’m pregnant with your baby and you just leave? Not even a word?”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, Flo. But I had to…had to make sure you were safe.”
“I don’t expect you to be involved, but you could’ve- safe?”
He nods. ”Can I come in?”
She studies him, her eyes somehow seeing through him and she nods, opening the door. “Lock it behind you.”
This time, he decides to tell her everything, about his past life, about what happened to Poppy, what he’d done now to protect them. How he couldn’t let it happen again, not when he has the chance to have a family again. To his surprise, when he was done, she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him, holding him tight. He hugs her back, swallowing down some tears and melting into her embrace. It’s several long moments before she pulls back, cupping his face with her soft, warm hands.
“It’s not your fault, Clint.”
He looks down, shrugs a little. “But-”
“You can’t control what other’s do. Poppy knew that. Why do you think her last words were of love and not revenge? She doesn’t blame you, Clint. She would want you to be happy. So, be happy. Even if…even if that’s not with us.”
His eyes snap to hers and he’s surprised to find tears there. “Do you want me to leave? I understand if you-”
“No!” She grips his face a little tighter. “No. I want you here, but I need all of you here. We need it. But if you can’t, I understand.”
“You…you want me? Even though I’ve…I’m a violent…”
She cuts him off by pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Look, I knew you were in some shit when we met. I’m not stupid. You came tumbling out of that bar stabbed and then tussled with another guy. I had to patch you up and you bled all over my floor. I figured you were in some shit. This is Oakland. But..you were also gentle with me and patient, even when I told you about my past and I thought…we had that moment and I know we were both a little in our heads during it, but it was..fuck, it was nice having someone, especially someone who..gets it. I like you, Clint. I don’t expect you to like me in the same way, but however you want to be involved in our lives, that’s fine with me.”
How the fuck did he lead such a violent and fucked up life, all the shit he’s done, and he managed to find not one but two amazing women who just cared for him despite it? Poppy never knew exactly what he did, but Clint always suspected she knew he wasn’t really a delivery driver. She just never pressed. Just carried on loving him. 
Clint reaches forward, cupping her face in his hand this time. “I want to be involved with the baby. And I’d…I’d like to see where this goes,” he gestures between them and she smiles, realizing his intent. 
“Really?”
“Really. But know that no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for both of you.”
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Clint and Flo dated for a month or so before they decided it was easier to just move in together. They found a little place for their growing family, a little 2 bedroom place in a better area of town. Clint had had some extra money after taking out The Guy (and raiding his safe) and happily moved them all in. Clint is there for every weird craving, anytime she wanted something at 3am, foot massages, all of it. He loved being there for her, talking to her belly, but also being with her. Flo was the first person to help him realize that he still deserved love. And even if he didn’t believe it, he knew that Flo deserved it and he would spend the rest of his time making sure she had it. 
Their son Christopher came screaming into the world right on time. They got him cleaned up, wrapped in blankets and a little tiny hat and handed him to Clint. He gently takes Christopher in his arms, walking over to Flo who was still laying on the bed. Tears well in his eyes as he stares down at his son, Flo leaning her head on his arm and he sighs, happy that he’s finally getting the life he wanted. 
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boliv-jenta · 3 months
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Clint x f!reader
Just a little something to fit in with the movie.
Warnings: TW: Pregnancy. Aftermath of violence. Cheating. Smut. P in V sex. Light degradation.
WC:2.8k
The Dance
The dull roar of the late evening traffic on the nearby highway is almost soothing in the otherwise quiet night. The urban equivalent of waves on the shore. The neighbour's dog a few houses down lets out a few warning barks before silence returns to the darkness. The beginning of a sound in the house has you trying to quiet your pounding heartbeat to allow you to listen more closely. As the sound grows more familiar, you swallow your anxiety to drag yourself from your soft bed. 
By the time you release yourself from the comfort of its warm embrace, the source of the sound is already standing in your bathroom. Broad shoulders hunched over as he searches the contents of your first aid kit tipped out onto your counter. 
“Clint?” Your sleep thick voice is quiet but the bathroom is small, he hears you even if he acts like he doesn't. 
The smell of him fills the space, copper, oil and fire. The blue plaid shirt that clings to his wide frame is torn and muddied. The hair that brushes his collar is curled with sweat. When he reaches out for a towel you see his knuckles are split. Blood covers the back of his hands, whose blood is anyone's guess. At least some of it is his but you doubt all of it is.
“Clint.” You try again stepping closer, your hands skimming his back.
As if he's avoiding your touch he finally turns. His knuckles aren't the only thing split, his bottom lip and left eyebrow are slashed with red. Beneath his left eye is beginning to swell. The skin is mottled with purple.
“Clint?” You reach up to touch his eye only for him to catch your hand and push it away. 
“You should see the other guy.” He says flatly.
A shudder runs through you at the thought of it. Clint feels it too. His work has always been a sticking point between you. It's the reason you aren't together right now. It's why you're dating the manager of the local bowling alley. When that fizzles out because he isn't Clint and you go running back to him, it will be the reason you split up again. Round and round you go. Pulled together to be torn apart.
“Let me help.” You might not agree with his line of work but you will always be there when he needs you.
“I'm good. I'm sorry. I took a good shot to the head. This was the first place I thought to come. I forgot that you…I saw his car wasn't in the drive.” Clint begins to pick up a few items from the counter. Gauze, iodine solution, some bandages.
“He's away on business. Setting up a new location.” Your partner had been gone for three weeks and you'd barely noticed. If you don't see any sign of Clint for that long dread claws at your insides. “If you've had a knock to the head you need to get checked out.” Clint rolls his eyes. 
“Fine.” You concede. “At least stay here so I can keep an eye on you.”
With a huff, he leans back on your counter. It's as much of an answer as you are going to get. All this time the only light in the room had been from the hallway and Clint's cellphone. Pulling the cord for the overhead light, the extent of Clint's injuries were revealed to you. His eye was going to be swollen and bruised for a long while. The right side of his face was streaked with blood as if he'd attempted to wipe it off. His thick hair was matted with dried blood. 
“Get in the shower. I can't tell if you're bleeding or if it's just….” Sighing you reach into the tub to turn the overhead shower on. You bring the water to the bearable side of boiling, just how Clint likes it. 
Without a second thought he strips naked in front of you. You take note of the fresh bruises on his body. Someone had been taking shots at his kidneys. To keep your hands from his body you busy yourself with picking up the supplies that Clint had picked out. Through the screen over the tub you can see the outline of Clint's body. An outline that you could trace in your sleep. You knew every inch intimately. They say you never forget your first and you hadn't. It probably helped that over the last thirty years you'd found yourselves together more often than not. He was the one you ran to when you dropped out of college. He broke down at your door when his mom passed away. He fucked away the last doubts that leaving your fiance, the week before the wedding, was the right thing to do. Though his job and other circumstances kept you apart you always found your way back to each other. Like now as he sat on the edge of the tub, a towel wrapped low on his waist. Your fingers skim his brow as you tape up the gash there. Finally, he relaxes, leaning into your touch. His own touch wraps around the back of your bare thighs. The heat of his thick fingers burns into your skin as he holds you there, not moving until a sigh leaves your lips. It's a sigh of contentment. Clint knows the dance has begun again. You'll give into each other. Devour each other's bodies in carnal haze until you are dizzy with it. Until the world twisted and all the things that kept you apart were straightened out. Until a life together seemed possible. And for the briefest time it would be until reality settled itself back in.
Clint's large hands cup the full flesh of your ass to pull you close. He presses soft kisses to your stomach and your breast through the thin cotton of the t-shirt you were sleeping in. Your fingers knead at the kinks in his strong shoulders. His touch is unhurried, there's no shame in it, even with the toiletries that clearly belong to your partner dotted about the room. He doesn't care that you have a boyfriend. Neither do you. No matter who keeps your body warm at night, it always belongs to Clint. 
Even with his injuries Clint was more than strong enough to carry you to your bed. With great care he lays you on the now cool sheets. More sweet kisses litter your skin. Until he draws level with your hips and feels the heat radiating off of your barely covered core. Then another side to Clint makes itself known. This is the side that you know makes his job bearable to him. One with an animalistic clarity. The one that taps into, that acts on impulse to get the job done. 
“Fuck. So warm for me. I bet you're soaked too. I haven't even touched this pussy but it's ready for me. What does it want? Hmmm? Does it want my tongue? Does it want me to suck that clit?” He licks along the centre of your panties. When your hips rise to meet him, he pins them down with an iron grip. 
“Does it want to see how many of my fingers it can take?” His fingertips tease the edge of your panties, grazing the soft flesh of your thighs. “Or does it just want to be stuffed full on my cock?”
Before you can answer he yanks your panties down and spreads your legs.
“Look at you. So wet for me. I bet I could slide right in, balls deep in one go.” His towel slips away as he crawls up your body. Form a thick thatch of brown curls his cock stands thick, bobbing heavily with each motion until your view of it is obscured by him settling between your legs.
The two of you moan in harmony as he circles your clit with the fat head of his cock. As he teases your excited bundle of nerves, he works to coat himself with your wetness. Dropping his hips, his slides his cock through your slick folds until he catches at your entrance. True to his word, he fills you in one long slow thrust. No matter how many time you take him it feels like the first all over again. He splits you in two. The feel of him overwhelms you until all you can do is cling to him and take it.
“My girl. No one takes my cock like you.” He breathes into the crook of your neck.
The next few minutes pass with you both being impossibly close and you begin impossibly full as Clint barely pulls out and just pushes deeper and deeper into the warm bliss of your pussy. Fuck he needs you. Not just to take his cock. He needs you to mend his soul. The cracks in his spirit aren't as easy to hold together any more. They aren't clean solid spills, they've begun to splinter, the delicate shards keep falling away no matter how hard he tries to keep himself together. He's nearly fifty and what does he have to show for his life? The only thing he has is you and even that isn't real. You're not really his. He can have you for a moment. He can buy you a cup of coffee now and then. He can fuck you like your lives depend on it, and he swears sometimes that his does. He can stop by to check on you now and then but anything more, anything longer and his past catches up. If he holds you for too long or too tight those shards will shred you too.
The dull sound of your cell phone vibrating next to your pillow catches Clint's attention. The screen lights up with your boyfriend’s contact details. Clint notes that he doesn't have his own ringtone or an image with his contact. When Clint calls, your screen lights up with a photo of the two of you at the fair and intro to Eric Clapton's Layla plays. It was playing on the radio when he first said I love you. Laying in the back of his dad's pick up with a million stars and possibles ahead of you.
“Answer it.” At first you don't even know what he's talking about, you're too lost in the feel of him. Snatching up the phone, he slides his thumb across the screen to answer it before holding it to your ear. 
“Hey.” You try to sound as casual as possible with another man's cock deep inside you.
“Hi, Babe.” Clint finally pulls out, allowing you to breathe as your boyfriend starts to chat to you. “Work is slow so I thought I'd check in.” 
As you open your mouth to answer Clint slams back in causing you to stifle a moan. “Babe? You ok?”
“Yeah, sorry. I couldn't sleep so I did a workout. I'm just using my massage gun to loosen up my muscles.”
A wicked grin splits Clint's perfect lips as he watches you lie for him. 
“Shame I'm not there. I could loosen you up.” There's no mistaking the suggestive tone is your boyfriend's voice. 
Luckily, you managed to tap mute before Clint's hips picked up speed. The moan you let out is inhuman. The neighbour's dog pipes up again. Probably mistaking you for a beast in the night.
Clint drops the cell phone to brace his hands on the headboard. “I wish he was here.” He grunts he used the strength in his whole body to pound you deeper. “I'd show him how to fuck this tight cunt properly. Can he make you come with just his dick?”
You can't answer at first. You're now pushed up so far that you are propped up by the headboard. Your legs are spread wide, one hangs limply off the bed, bouncing with each thrust. All you brain can think is about the ecstasy between your legs.
A sharp slap to your cheek makes you focus. “Does he make you come with just his dick?”
“No.” You admit.
Clint seems satisfied with that answer. He moans deeply for a few moments enjoying the feel of your pussy choking him.
“How does he make you come?” When you refuse to meet his eyes, he grips your jaw and stills his hips.
“He hardly does. He tries to finger me or eat me out but he never quite gets me there.” You quietly confess as you use the moment to catch your breath.
The laughter that bursts from Clint is wicked. “Poor Baby. This cunt must have been waiting for me to come around to treat it right. No wonder you were so wet. Don't worry. I'll take real good care of you.”
The air is punched from your lungs when Clint starts thrusting hard and deep. His cock is so big that it rubs up against your g-spot before battering your cervix. There's nothing else in this world for you except for Clint. The feel on him inside you, he sweat slick skin sliding against yours. The distance drone of his words that don't quite make it to the plain of bliss that he has you ascended to. 
A sharp tug of your t-shirt up barely registers until it's followed by a sharp tug of your nipple. “Fuck me. Look at you. Too cock dumb to answer. I said, "Is this what you needed?”
Drool spills from the corner of your mouth as you try to answer before settling on a nod. 
“Shit.” He laughs. “I'm not even trying that hard. I'm so worked up I'm just using this perfect hole to jerk off. I need to blow my load. Where should I? Hmm?” He takes a second to catch his breath as readjusts to push even deeper. An howl from you rings in the night. It's accompanied by you clawing  at Clint's back. Maybe the neighbour’s dog is right, you are a beast in the night. One that only Clint can transform you into.
“I hadn't shot it all over your pretty face for a while or your tits. I don't think I could pull out though. Guess I'll just have to fill you with it. Did he fill you before he left? Are you going to have two men's loads dripping from you, you little slut?” His large hand is on the base of your neck now, squeezing even so slightly.
“He n-never has. Make him…wear a condom. Just…just you..” your orgasm building makes it hard to speak.
“Just me that fills this pussy. Isn't that special? Just me that uses you like a cock sleeve.”
Clint stops taunting you as he puts all his energy into fucking you closer to you peak. He moans and grunts into your hair while his whole body stretches and flexes on top of you. He is the most gorgeous creature you have ever had the fortune to lay your eyes on. Everything about him gets you closer. 
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I'm close. Oh, fucking milk my cock. Come on.” His thumb finds your clit and with a few strokes you do exactly as he says. Your channel clamps down on him and pulse around him until all his thick white cum is warming your walls. After you muscles all contact toward your centre at the pinnacle of your pleasure they all release leaving you limp underneath him. 
“Are you okay?” Clint finally comes back to you. His demeanour softens along with his cock inside you.
“I'm perfect.” You sign now even trying to fight the smile on your face.
“I know you are.” His whiskers tickle as he kisses your forehead. “I'm sorry. I should have stayed away. You have someone…”
“He's not you. He's just a placeholder. We both know that. I'll call him now. I'll have his stuff out on the lawn in the morning.” You expect him to laugh. For the same excuses to leave his lips.
“Do it. Just give me a few weeks. I'm close to getting out.” His tone is deadly serious.
“What? How?” Your heart swells so much with hope that it almost chokes you.
Clint holds you close his eyes sparkle with promise as yours begin to close. “It's better that you don't know. But I am going to do it this time. Then you and me will get that little place back home and no one will bother us.”
The dance was shorter this time. Clint was gone by the morning. Even after all the sweet nothings you whispered to each other in the night. Little did either of you know that the dance would be different next time. The steps would change to match the new song. A song with an extra beat. The heartbeat of the baby growing inside you.
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bonezone44 · 3 months
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Clint (Freaky Tales) Masterlist - (18+)
Horny Headcanons - A list of headcanons for a character we know so little about.
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jen-with-a-pen · 6 months
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⊹-୨୧-⊹𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓⊹-୨୧-⊹
⊹–SUMMARY–⊹ Inexperienced and still freshly-traumatized by his first heartbreak, Steve Rogers decides to finally move away for college after taking two gap years to work, save, and help his Ma around the house. It’ll be good for him. Away from his ex. Away from his hometown. He's excited to finally chase his dreams and begin again as a promising fine arts student at Richards College. Well, almost. Thanks to a generous scholarship spanning the next four years of his life, Steve is required to participate in on-campus Greek life. It’s simple: join a frat. They shouldn't be too intimidating. At least they're not as bad as they are in the movies, right? Right..?
⊹–PAIRINGS–⊹ Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!F!Reader
⊹–WARNINGS–⊹ more to be added as series progresses frat bros being frat bros, sorority sisters being sorority sisters, manipulation, coercion, blackmail, fluff, angst, whump, explicit forced s3xual acts, slow burn, dissociation, nud1ty, dubcon (bordering noncon), forced drvgging, mentions of kidnapping, emotional damage, Steve's just trying his best, Bucky and Sam are major frat bros, Tony and Clint are somewhere I swear The warnings listed here are not exhaustive but generally encapsulate the series as a whole and do not represent every single chapter. Please be mindful and read the chapter warnings!
Read this fic on AO3!
The Richards College Playlist
Steve's Playlist
any art featured in the series title header and story-specific dividers was found on pinterest and is used in good faith. all credit goes to the original artists, as i could not find accurate credit for any. collage done by me
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ALL TIED UP: STEVE'S WEEK
–⊹– One: Saturday, currently.
–⊹– Two: Last Monday.
–⊹– Three: Last Tuesday.
–⊹– Four: Last Wednesday.
–⊹– Five: Last Thursday.
–⊹– Six: Saturday, still.
–⊹– Seven: Last Friday.
–⊹– Eight: Saturday, again.
–⊹– Nine: Saturday, again.
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swan-of-sunrise · 5 months
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His Girl Friday
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Summary: At Tony Stark's forty-fourth birthday party, the genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist and his longtime personal assistant finally address what's remained unspoken but secretly acknowledged between them for many, many years.
Pairings: Tony Stark X F!Reader
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings/Disclaimers: None
A/N: Hi guys! This is my first time writing a Tony-centric fic and I had a lot of fun with it, so thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoy!
His Girl Friday May 29th, 2014 Avengers Tower, New York City (Fanfiction Masterlist)
Being employed as Anthony Edward Stark’s personal assistant was a challenging and often times perilous job, and that was before he’d announced himself to the world as Iron Man. But (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was no ordinary personal assistant; she stood by the genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist when he vowed to stop producing weapons at Stark Industries after being imprisoned by terrorists for three long months, she stuck with him when his secret illness and subsequent erratic behavior drove nearly everyone else away, and she flat-out refused to believe he’d been killed at the hands of the Mandarin. It was evident that Tony Stark was the closest thing she had to a best friend. Lately, however, she’d begun to notice a significant shift in her feelings towards her employer, feelings that definitely went beyond friendship and feelings that she suspected he was feeling as well; she tried her best to keep them at bay, fearful of ruining such a meaningful friendship and throwing away the only job she’d ever truly enjoyed on a baseless suspicion, and thankfully, there were always plenty of distractions to keep herself preoccupied with in her unique line of work.
From her place at the back of the room, (Y/N) scanned over the enormous checklist in her hands to see if she’d missed anything important; the guests were chatting, dancing and taking full advantage of the open bar while the DJ was playing all of Tony’s favorite songs in honor of his forty-forth birthday. All in all, not one of the worst birthday parties I’ve ever planned for him, she thought to herself, a reluctant smile playing on her lips as she recalled the disastrous thirty-ninth birthday party that resulted in the Malibu mansion’s near destruction at the hands of Tony and Rhodey. That particular birthday party was the reason why she’d initially been a little nervous at the prospect of the Avengers attending the soiree, but it only took a brief glance around the bustling common room to see that they were the perfect guests; Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson played pool with Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, while Bruce Banner hovered near the back of the enamored crowd of people that surrounded a slightly-inebriated Thor and listened to his enthusiastic re-tellings of the adventures he’d had on Asgard. Pepper and Dr. Helen Cho were seated at the bar and chatted over glasses of Chardonnay while Happy was hyper-focused on his phone, no doubt catching up on an episode of Downton Abbey. With an inward chuckle, the personal assistant returned her attention to her lengthy list of tasks as the classic rock music continued to play.
“Hey beautiful, how ‘bout a dance?”
“Sorry, but I’m worki-” (Y/N) looked up to see Tony Stark himself standing before her, looking as handsome as ever in his expertly tailored black tuxedo and flashing her his signature grin that never failed to make her heart skip a beat. “Hey, you. How’re you enjoying your birthday party?”
Tony tucked his hands into his pockets and shrugged noncommittally. “It’s one of your better-executed extravaganzas, I will say, but it would absolutely skyrocket to the top if I could spend the rest of the evening with my favorite personal assistant.”
(Y/N) arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Tony, I’m your only personal assistant.”
“Exactly, which meant you get the title by default. Yay you!” The billionaire gave her a small applause and she simply heaved an exasperated but fond sigh at his typical theatrics. “C’mon, Girl Friday, you’ve been working your ass off all night and the Birthday Boy says that you should take a well-deserved break.” As his trademark smirk softened into a gentle smile, Tony took his hand out of his pocket and offered it to her in a clear invitation to join him. “Please?”
Although her heart was screaming at her to take his hand and allow him to whisk her into an evening of laughter and coy flirtations, the rational part of her knew that she had a job to complete and that anything more than a friendly conversation could jeopardize their platonic relationship. Masking her disappointment with a shrug and apologetic smile, (Y/N) shook her head and held up her checklist for him to see. “I’m sorry, Tony, but I still have so much to do; I’ve gotta do another check-in with Maria and the security team downstairs, make sure that the pastry chef brings out the cake on time, that the waiters serve the guests champagne at the right tempera-Tony!” She exclaimed when Tony’s hand shot out and snatched the checklist out of her grasp. “Anthony Edward Stark, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Getting rid of an obstacle,” Tony easily replied, holding the checklist above his head and snickering when she unsuccessfully attempted to snatch it back. “Seriously, Girl Friday, just one dance and I’ll let you get back to your boring planning. I’ll even avoid bugging you the rest of the night if it means I can spend a little time with one of my best friends.”
Tony’s rare sincerity softened (Y/N)’s heart, and she felt her resolve crumble as she stared into his gleaming brown eyes. “All right, one dance. Do you ever get tired with always getting your way?”
“Nope!” Tony happily popped the ‘p’ and tucked the checklist into the pocket of his tuxedo jacket before offering her his hand once again, and (Y/N) smiled to herself as the billionaire escorted her to the edge of the dance floor and whisked her into a slow dance to Bon Jovi’s ‘Bed of Roses.’ The warmth of his hand on the curve of her waist combined with the feel of his body brushing up against hers caused her heartbeat to quicken its pace, and she silently prayed that he wouldn’t notice the effect he had on her. “You know, I was being serious before. You’ve truly outdone yourself tonight, (Y/N), and can I just say that you look amazing?” Tony’s eyes briefly glanced down at her red chiffon evening gown and he gave her an appreciative nod. “Mm-hmm, hot-rod red is definitely your color. So, what’s your secret? How is it you can organize and schedule a genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist’s entire life and look drop-dead gorgeous while doing it?”
(Y/N) chuckled in amusement, the skirt of her gown swirling around her legs as he twirled her in a circle. “We all have our own superpowers; you fight aliens and terrorists in a red and gold Nitinol suit, and I oversee the hectic life of the man inside the suit to the best of my abilities.”
“Not sure which is the more dangerous job, to be honest.” Tony smirked, expertly guiding her back into his arms and holding her slightly closer than he had before. “But if I could do that death-glare that you’ve perfected over the years, then that would sure make my job a helluva lot easier and people would think twice before messing with Iron Man.” (Y/N) arched a brow and in response, Tony snickered. “Yep, there’s the death-glare!”
“I hate to burst your bubble, but this death-glare is tailor-made for Tony Stark and Tony Stark alone,” (Y/N) replied with a wry smile, and the billionaire’s grin widened as she looked into his sparkling brown eyes. They danced together in a comfortable yet expectant silence, almost as if one was waiting for the other to speak first, but both remained quiet while the 80’s power ballad continued to play; it wasn’t until she noticed the way he was biting his lower lip – one of the few tell-tale signs that there was something weighing heavy on the billionaire’s mind – that (Y/N) finally mustered her courage to address him. “You got a lot of cool presents this year, not to mention hundreds of thousands of dollars in charitable donations gifted in your name. Not too shabby, huh?”
Tony shrugged and replied, “I’m a sucker for gifts and I’m beyond stoked that we’ve raised so much in donations, but…” His eyes briefly flicked downwards to focus on the fluttering movement of her chiffon skirt, suddenly appearing as anxious as (Y/N) felt. “Can we play a quick round of Hypothetical Hold’em?”
A nostalgic feeling washed over (Y/N) at the mention of their old game. Back in the more impulsive and less responsible days of Tony Stark, it had been an effective form of decision-making created out of the billionaire’s respect for her opinions and general advice; they hadn’t played very many rounds in the years since he announced to the world that he was Iron Man and while she was happy that he’d grown and matured so much over the years, a small part of her missed their little game. “I’m a little rusty but I think I’ve still got it. Shoot.”
“A guy I know, Walter, he’s got just about everything he could possibly want in life, except the only thing he really wants is something he can’t have. You see,” Tony expertly dipped her and her breath hitched at the sudden movement, their eyes connecting as he continued. “There’s this woman – let’s call her Hildy – and he’s been in love with her for a while. And Hildy, she’s goddamn fantastic: smart, kind, funny, gorgeous, the whole enchilada.”
Heart sinking into her stomach, (Y/N) mustered up a small smile to hide her pain while he slowly righted her. “Hildy sounds wonderful. So, what’s stopping this Walter guy from telling her how he feels?”
“A couple of things, actually.” He took a deep breath. “She’s not just one of his best friends, but…you see, she’s also his personal assistant.”
The din of the party faded away as (Y/N)’s eyes widened in shock at the billionaire’s candid words; if not for the seriousness written across Tony’s face and the longing gleam that had formed in his brown eyes while he stared into hers, she would’ve assumed that he was pulling her leg. But she knew him, knew him far better than almost anyone else in the world, and it was clear as day that he was speaking directly from the heart. “…Oh.”
Tony nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a tried and true attempt to hide behind a more lighthearted façade. “She’s taken such good care of him. He was a loose cannon for a long time…still is, in a way, but she’s gotten him through all the tough spots. He’s good friends with some ex-assassins, a super-soldier and a literal god, but she’s the strongest person he’s ever met and the only person he could ever imagine giving his heart to. But as much as he loves her, he’s not willing to roll the dice and risk losing her from his life forever; that’s why he…” Tony cast his gaze downwards and his hand gripped hers tight. “That’s why I never said anything before.”
“So, what changed?” She whispered as she slowly moved the hand that had been resting on his shoulder to press against the spot where his arc reactor once resided, feeling his rapid heartbeat and silently marveling at how perfectly it matched her own.
“Looking across the room and seeing you with your checklist; you’ve planned over a dozen successful birthday parties for me, but that didn’t stop you from treating tonight as if it was the first. It’s one of the thousand ways you show how much you care about me, and that’s what gave me the courage to walk to the back of the room and finally ask you for a dance.”
The booming opening chords of AC/DC’s ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’ filled the room and while more guests took to the dance floor for the lively song, (Y/N) grabbed Tony’s hand and practically dragged him away from the crowd, not stopping until they were tucked away from any prying eyes in Captain Rogers’ nearby office. When she closed the door behind them and turned around, she was met with an apprehensive-looking Tony and her subtle smile grew into an all-out grin as her eyes filled with happy tears. “You love me?”
“I love you,” Tony replied, his voice growing steady and his eyes filling with confidence at her obvious happiness. “C’mon, Girl Friday, you’re killing me here. Do you love me or what?”
Beaming with joy, (Y/N) brought her hands up to cup his face between them and nodded. “You’re such an asshat, but I love you with all my heart.” Tony’s grin grew to match her own and he leaned forward to kiss her, but was halted by her fingers covering his eager lips. “And in the spirit of covering both our asses, I’d like to take this moment to formally tenure my resignation, Mr. Stark.”
“Duly noted, Miss (Y/L/N). And since I’m such a good ex-boss, I’ll send your resume and a letter of recommendation to a certain defrosted super-soldier who could use all the assistance he can get.”
“Becoming Captain America’s personal assistant? It’ll be a cake-walk, but at least I’ll have my favorite hot mess to come home to.”
(Y/N) moved her hand and giggled at how quickly Tony’s arms wrapped around her waist to tug her closer, but her amusement soon gave way to passion as their lips finally met in a long overdue kiss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I figured that we all could use a little fluff, and what better way to deliver it than in a friends-to-lovers trope-fest? Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, and I hope that you have a wonderful holiday season!
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Marvel Taglist: @brooke0297​
All Works: @crowleysqueenofhell​ @momc95​ @groovy-lady
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lizzie-is-here · 2 years
Text
girls just wanna have fun
part ii- mariposa
“i can’t wait for you to come my way”
wordcount: 2.9k
warnings: cussing, avengers very poorly faking the internship, brief mentions of: underage drinking, drug use, drugging someone’s drink, violence
a/n: reader is smarter than they planned for lol 👀 also this is more filler, but i’m super excited to write the party scene. enjoy 🤍
taglist: @faiirybread @softasha @edgycatx @happy-nico @local-mr-frog @minimarkive @softyutae
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You were always early. To literally everything. School, sporting events, parties… And now, meeting your crush for lunch. Maybe it was a habit instilled by your business-oriented parents, but you arrived at the cafe the next morning at 10:27. Peter and you both agreed to meet at 11:00.
What you didn’t expect was for him to already be there, sitting on a bench and fixing up his hair.
“Um. Hi, Peter,” you say. He jumps, whipping around to spot you.
“Oh, hey (Y/N). Do you- do you always get places early?” he asks awkwardly, stumbling over his words. You smile.
“Yeah. I see you do too?” He nods before jerking a thumb at the cafe’s doors.
“Um… You look really nice,” he stutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “The line isn’t too long if you’re ready to order.”
You peruse the bakery for a while, with Peter choosing a simple iced latte. When you ask him if he’s getting breakfast, he declines.
“I didn’t bring too much money. Don’t wanna spend more than I can save.” Hmm. He was money-smart, unlike the boys at your school that tended to blow any paycheck they got on random shit. Nonetheless, when Peter’s stomach grumbles, you laugh and lift your own purse.
“I’ll pay, Peter,” you offer, grabbing a twenty and a ten. “Get whatever you want.”
“Oh, no, I really couldn’t-“ You grab his shoulders, sternly turning him towards you.
“Peter. My monthly allowance is higher than I’d like to admit. I don’t need any extra money. I can pay.” He reluctantly nods, picking out a breakfast sandwich before you order an açaí bowl and a matcha latte. You pay, generously tipping the young girl with a brilliant smile that leaves her blinking for a few moments after you step away.
As you and Peter grab your order and sit down at a table, you take in the people coming and going. Some rush to wherever their destination is, while others stumble along, barely awake and with bags under their eyes. You check the time. Avengers Tower isn’t too far away, but you have plenty of time. However, Peter mentions that he wants to get there even earlier to get some equipment set up in the lab.
“God, it’s so cool that you have this internship. I hope you don’t mind me jumping on the opportunity,” you say, sipping your drink. The teen shakes his head with an easy smile.
“No, it's totally fine. It’ll be nice to have a- someone else… from school… Ya know, working there too.” You scrunch your nose, smiling as he turns four different shades of red. When he seems to be discouraged by your silence, you pat his arm.
“Peter, you can call us friends. I’d like to be friends with you.” The sound he makes is almost a squeak, but you ignore it in favor of making your way through your food. With anyone else, the silence would be awkward. But with Peter, it feels… natural. Like you could both just coexist without needing to exchange words to enjoy each other’s company. It’s a while before he manages to talk again.
“I really liked the football, rush-thing, whatever, that you did yesterday. It actually almost made me excited to watch Flash wear pants two sizes too small.” You laugh, garnering some glances.
“I thought I was the only one who noticed,” you giggle, remembering all of the times you saw far more of Flash Thompson’s ass crack than you’d ever intended. “The other football guys don’t like him.”
“Really?” Peter asks, mouth full. “I always thought they were all like him.” You wave a hand, shrugging.
“They’re just hyperactive, but most of them are chill.” Your phone buzzes with a call, and as your lock screen lights up, you see dozens of notifications. With a roll of your eyes, you silence the call, returning your full attention to the boy sitting across from you.
His eyes are wide, and he keeps glancing at your phone. “Are you… not gonna answer it?” You shake your head, making a slight face.
“Nah. It’s just some friends harassing me about Matthew’s dumb party tonight. Apparently it’s gonna be a banger.”
“Are you going?”
“Undecided. What about you?”
Peter stammers. “I- I don’t really get… invited to those things.” Your jaw drops.
“You’ve never been invited to a party?” He shakes his head and you lean back in your seat.
He frowns. “Is that, like, bad? Or…?”
“No! No,” you jump forward, leaning against the table. Then, you remember Dawson’s idea. “Do you wanna go to the one tonight?”
Peter thinks about it, and you can practically see the gears turning in his brain. And he’s just grateful you can’t read minds and hear how thrilled he is. His crush. Just invited him. To a party. Honestly, he doesn’t care if the party is in a dumpster behind that one trashy diner a block from his apartment. He’d go anyway.
Countless questions are running rampant through his mind. ‘What do I wear?’ ‘Is there alcohol?’ ‘How do I pretend I know how to take a shot?’ His train of thought is off-the-rails before he remembers that you’re still waiting on an answer.
“Yeah. Sure. That sounds amazing.”
———————————————————————
If you were anyone else walking into Avengers Tower, you would be intimidated. But years of practice truly did make perfect, and you greeted the receptionist politely before Peter led you to the lounge floor.
You straighten your top one last time, applying a last layer of gloss. When the elevator doors ding and open, you’re met with a bustling group of superheroes.
Steve Rogers, James Barnes, and Sam Wilson sit at the counter, the latter two arguing as Captain America tries to mediate.
Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Vision and Wanda Maximoff are on the massive couch. The witch is floating glasses in the air. The Black Widow seems to be the only one to spot you coming in.
A few other Avengers are scattered around the room. It’s almost overwhelming. Almost.
“Hey, everyone, meet the new kid.” Tony Stark appears from behind the fridge, closing the door with a glass of juice in his hand. A few greetings are thrown your way, and the genius billionaire waves a clipboard of papers. “You ready to sign these?”
You nod, and to your surprise, he throws the papers down on a table in the middle of the living room. Peter groans from where he’s standing next to you.
“God, I’m sorry. He did this to me too-“
“Hush, Parker,” Tony says, gesturing for everyone to sit down. You sit in the middle of the couch, staying cool as the world’s greatest superheroes settle in for your interview. This was weird. “Introduce yourself, tell us some things about you.”
You straighten your posture, keeping all of your public speaking lessons in mind. “My name is (Y/N) (L/N), I’m 17. I go to Midtown Tech, and I’m the co-captain of the Decathlon Team, I’m the class president, and my GPA is 4.0. I take all AP courses and also play several instruments in their concert band. My ACT score is a 35, and I’ve passed all of my AP exams with 5s. I’m set to take the SAT in a month.”
The group nods, although a few exchange looks of mild panic. Suspicious.
“What about extracurriculars?” Ms. Romanoff asks.
“I’ve done gymnastics and figure skating since I was five, but recently stopped competing. When I did compete, I won state for both. I also have taken self-defense lessons.” You don’t mention that the only reason you took those self-defense lessons was because your parents didn’t want to leave you alone without some form of protection.
“You’ve got an impressive resume, kid,” Sam Wilson nods. “Look through these papers and I’d say you’ve got the job.”
This doesn’t feel right. It feels too easy.
“Is this a test?” you ask, tilting your head. You notice Steve Rogers go a few shades paler and Sergeant Barnes snicker under his breath. This has to be a test.
Tony waves his hands. “Great job, kid. You caught them.” He shakes your hand. “You were absolutely right; it was a test. And you just got the job.” He shoved the papers towards you.
You dutifully fill them out, pausing to pull your social security card from your purse as you fill out line after line. You hesitate when you get to emergency contacts. Your parents aren’t ever home, so could you even list them?
A few of the team members notice your internal dilemma.
“You put your parents or guardians there. Just in case something happens,” Vision explains, his voice kind and patient. “You… do have parents?”
Wanda lightly scolds him. “Vis,” she whispers, “You can’t ask her that.”
“Oh, no it’s fine,” you say. “They’re just… out. A lot. Most of the time.” You repeatedly correct yourself, hands slightly clamming up. “Ya know, business and other such things.”
“That’s where I know you,” Tony announces, snapping his fingers. “Your dad heads that research board out in Silicon Valley right? And your mom owns that big-shot publishing company down in Florida?” You nod.
“They’re at the apartment maybe… once every week or so? Sometimes together, but most of the time their schedules overlap. I’m pretty self-sufficient.” You take the opportunity to hype yourself up.
“Well, kid, you’re always welcome at the tower.” You smile, genuine and not just a polite-slash-awkward gesture. For as famous as these people are, they’re more welcoming than any adults you’ve interacted with in a long time.
Once you finish signing the papers, Mr. Stark hands them to you. “Would you care to run these down to the receptionist?” You? Alright. You take them with a nod, ignoring the odd request and writing off as the billionaire’s eccentricity. As soon as you’re out of earshot, the Avengers scramble into a huddle.
“This isn’t working; she can tell something’s up,” Natasha says, causing a few people to nod and others to groan. You’re more perceptive than they planned for.
Sam glares at Peter. “You know, when you said she was the top of your class you didn’t mention that she’s practically a genius,” he snaps.
“My school literally is dedicated to higher-level education,” Peter sighs. “How could you not know?”
“Whatever,” the Black Widow snaps. “We need to be more convincing. She doesn’t buy it and, honestly? I don’t blame her. You all are horrible actors.”
“Ouch,” Clint monotones, sipping his coffee.
“So… What is she even interning for?” Steve asks. Tony freezes, uncharacteristically silent. The super-soldier gapes. “You don’t know?”
“Well, in my defense-“
The elevator opens and you step out, a slight bounce in your step. “So,” you say, approaching the group. “What now?”
“Peter here is going to give you a tour, and then you’ll be done for the day,” Tony improvises. He rests both hands on Peter’s shoulders in a silent message. ‘Just play along.’
“I am?” Peter is very bad at reading silent messages.
“Yep!” The teen’s eyes widen as he realizes the plan.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah I’m giving you a tour.” You smile, allowing him to take the lead as he explains everything about the tower, from the names of the receptionists to the snacks in the pantry.
It’s ten minutes before he’s done talking about the lounge floor and leads you into the elevator to visit the training floor.
“God, he’s stupid,” Bucky mumbles behind a mouthful of chips.
Wanda shrugs, narrowing her eyes as she considers your interactions. How you fiddled with your rings as Peter talked. How your smiles seemed just a bit bigger when he made a joke or told some off-topic story about even the most mundane days at the tower. “I think she likes him.”
“Likes that he’s stupid?”
“Yes.”
———————————————————————
“And this… is my favorite part about the entire Avengers Tower.” Peter had been leading you and giving you a full tour for over an hour now, and you were enthralled. He had a talent for storytelling, and each room seemed to have a story for him to tell.
Now, he pushes open a door to a stairwell, ushering you up the stairs and asking FRIDAY, the building’s intuitive AI, to unlock the door.
The view is truly to die for.
Even if the tower isn’t as tall as the Empire State Building, it’s still high enough to take your breath away. Wind whistles around you and you sigh, basking in the sun as the sounds of the busiest city in America surround you on all sides.
It’s all encompassing. And yet, it feels insignificant when you hear Peter’s phone shutter.
“Sorry,” he says, waving the phone. “You just looked so… I don’t know. It’s a really good picture.” He shows you. It is really good.
“I never knew you had a talent for photography,” you tease, bumping him with your hip. He flushes. You both go to sit down on the ledge, and you swing your legs. The height doesn’t bother you, and yet, you feel butterflies in your stomach.
“Um… About the party,” Peter begins, picking at the edge of his t-shirt. “What should I expect?” You laugh, laying down.
“Well, it is Matthew who’s throwing it, so expect alcohol. Some of the best; his dad’s a connoisseur. You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.” He nods, mentally taking notes.
“There shouldn’t be any hard drugs. Weed at the most. He also invited that nearby school… What’s it called? Oh, yeah, Baxter. And those kids can get crazy. Don’t pick fights, but don’t try to stop one either. If someone bleeds, we get the hell out of dodge. And pour your own drinks.”
“What, why?” He’s so sweet it almost hurts.
You hold up one finger. “Rule #1. Don’t trust anyone with your drink unless you’d trust them with your life. It’s too easy to drug someone these days.”
You both stay silent for a moment, enjoying the pleasant weather. An especially aggressive car horn blares on the street below you. A flock of pigeons passes, probably shitting all over the place.
“Thank you for showing me around,” you say, turning to face Peter where he lays a short bit away from you.
He smiles, and it's like sunshine. Goddamn it. He’s so cute he’s making you spew metaphors. Your AP English brain pauses to correct yourself on such a simple mistake. Similes. You’re spewing similes. “It’s no problem. You’re really easy to be around,” he says, pausing to think for a moment. “If- if you ever want to stop by for dinner, my aunt would be happy to have you over.”
“That’s probably the nicest offer anyone’s made in a while, Peter.” You’re beaming, biting your lip before looking away. “I just might take you up on that.” When you check the time, you sigh. “Guess I’d better start heading home. If you want, we could meet up before the party? I’m probably gonna walk since it’s only a few blocks away. In that little suburbian area sort of thing?”
“Yeah! Yeah, that’s cool. I’ll see you then.”
It takes you approximately 4 minutes and 37 seconds to get out of the tower and far enough away to squeal in excitement. You spin in a circle in the middle of the sidewalk, blushing as you recount every detail from the past two hours or so. It takes you another 23 minutes to get home, and when you do, you immediately begin putting together an outfit.
In these 27 minutes, Peter Parker is completely freaking out. He knows nothing about high-school parties, and to his shock, neither does the team. He’s pacing in front of them, a slideshow presentation projected on the TV.
“If I wear a t-shirt, she might think I’m not excited to go with her. But I can’t wear a button-down or something. Too uptight.” The world’s mightiest superheroes are sprawled across the couch, jotting down notes and brainstorming ideas to help out their youngest member.
And while the room contains national war heroes, master assassins, a genius, and a literal AI, it takes them ten minutes before Natasha sits up abruptly.
“I’ve got it,” she pipes up. “A sweatshirt. Boom, I’m a genius.” She drops her pen and pad on the floor, sitting back with a proud smirk on her face. “But wear a t-shirt underneath it, so when she inevitably gets cold, you can give her your sweatshirt to wear.”
Applause echoes from a few members of the team. Peter takes a deep breath. “Alright, that’s the plan. I’ll run home, get ready, and fill May in.”
———————————————————————
Yes, it took you an hour to pick an outfit. In the end, you simply threw a pair of ripped jeans with the corset top you were already wearing, spraying a ludicrous amount of sweet-smelling perfume on.
Did Peter have to know that? No. He’d texted you an hour after you got home, checking where you wanted to meet and what time.
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When he shows up at your doorstep just as planned and you open the door, he chokes on air. As he sputters in your hallway, you lock your apartment, beginning the short walk to the party. You hear it before you see it. Loud conversations, trashy pop music, and occasional cheers echo down the dimly-lit street, Lights shine from the home and booming speakers send soundwaves through your body, reverberating in the very core of your being.
Outside of the house, you reach for Peter’s hand. You smirk, jerking your head towards the door.
“You ready?” you ask.
“For what?”
You open the door, flooding your senses with lights, music, and the overwhelming stench of alcohol. A few friends spot you, cheering as a form of drunken greeting,
You turn to Peter, offering an outstretched hand. He takes it, hand shaking.
“I’m gonna teach you how to party.”
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evansbby · 5 months
Text
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝
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𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x naive!Reader
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: VERY DARK ELEMENTS, noncon, extremely rough smut, daddy kink, captain kink, age gap (Steve is very into the age gap), MAJOR size kink, no seriously Steve is HUGE, misogyny, loss of virginity, mentions of blood (heavy mentions), mean Steve (seriously, he has no soul and is very mean, honestly unhinged), anal play, oral (f receiving), innocence kink, naive reader, 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS. MINORS DNI.
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Even Captain America deserves a reward after an intense, grueling mission.
𝐀/𝐍: Here we go! 16.3k words. Written very quickly. Not edited so please be forgiving. Also I don't have much knowledge on Shield and all that, so yeah! Final warning to PLEASE read the warnings! Anyways, enjoy!
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“The girl’s ready, Captain.”
Steve nods at the SHIELD agent tersely, “She’s in my room?”
“Yes, sir. And all your specifications have been followed.”
“Good. You’re dismissed.”
The agent bows his head before leaving the office, and Steve finds himself pacing. He often paced after gruelling missions, as if trying to get all the leftover adrenaline out. Tonight had been particularly challenging; a local university under threat from HYDRA. Thousands of screaming staff and students, the air painted with gunshots and screams of chaos. But Steve’s team had come to the rescue. Just like they always did.
His team all had different ways of dealing with it, the trauma and evil they saw every day. Clint had his family to go home to, and some middle-of-nowhere farmhouse that Steve would’ve found quaint if he’d given more of a fuck. Tony’s solution was alcohol – copious amounts of it. And maybe that would’ve been Steve’s fate too, stumbling out of a bar at three in the morning having no idea where he was, but of course, he had the serum to thank for avoiding him that. Natasha immersed herself in her friends, Sam partied a lot, Bruce locked himself up in his lab because God knew he was wrestling more demons than anyone else. Except maybe Bucky… But even Bucky had a girl to help him cope.
That left Steve. But Steve had this.
I deserve this. He thinks it to himself as he makes his way out of his office and down the hall toward the elevator. There are SHIELD agents scattered here and there, chattering mindlessly about the successful mission and how, thanks to the Avengers, there were no civilian deaths. But they all hush when they see him, parting like the Red Sea, their heads bowed in respect as he walks past them. The Captain. The hero. Their leader. He’s still in his suit, the shield still on his back and bloodied cuts decorating his face. Nevertheless, he’s the face of the Avengers. Everyone in this building looks up to him.
Everyone on the face of this Earth looks up to him.
And a few minutes later, when he gets off the elevator and to his private floor, walks over to his bedroom door and opens it, he finds a large pair of eyes looking up at him too.
You jump, the fear on your face so evident that Steve can almost smell it. Standing in the corner of his room as if you want to permeate through the wall or maybe disappear altogether. Your arms hug your body in a bid to hide it from whoever you thought was going to enter this room, but you seem to relax once you see that it’s him.
“C-Captain, it’s you! Oh, thank God!” Your shoulders sag in relief, although – much to Steve’s displeasure – you continue to cover your body with your arms, “I-I don’t know what happened, but there’s some bad people here, and they took me while I was being evacuated from the university, a-and they brought me here and they wouldn’t answer my questions and–”
Steve frowns as you drone on and on, talking about a mile a minute – a quality he doesn’t particularly care for in a woman. But his eyes drink you nevertheless. You look young – a college student, no doubt – but he finds he doesn’t mind that. In fact, it makes his cock harden, seeing how wide-eyed and naïve you look, a lot younger than him. A pretty face, and an attractive body too despite the fact that you seemed hell bent on hiding it from him.
“Put your arms down by your side.” He commands you, watching closely as you stop mid-sentence, your voice trailing off. He can tell you’re uncomfortable, confused, and probably tired out from fighting and arguing with his agents. But he knows already what’s going through your mind: that you’ll obey because it’s Captain America, and Captain America was a hero who always meant well. Hesitantly, slowly, your arms fall down to your sides.
Steve had very specific tastes, and his agents knew to follow his instructions to a tee. Which was why you stood before him, your body sheathed in the prettiest, most expensive vintage lingerie. All lacy and intricate, just how Steve liked it – white and silky, hugging your body like a second skin and accentuating your curves, making you look like half angel, half seductress. He’d long ago, in a different lifetime, pored over old pin-up magazines, just like any other boy his age would. He’d likened the white lingerie in the pictures to be what his innocent bride would wear the night he deflowered her. Back in the forties, back when he’d been a different man, a man who actually cared about trivial things like marriage and family. Years of war and fighting had beaten that out of him.
And yet, almost a century later, Steve still has a partiality for white, lacy lingerie.
After every mission (successful or not) SHIELD would bring him a girl in vintage lingerie. Always an unsuspecting girl who had no idea what she was being pulled into. They came in all sorts of varieties; crying, kicking, screaming, paralysed in fear when they realised the reason they were in his bedroom. But Steve deserved it, for every single sacrifice he’d made for his country, for the world – he deserved this one bit of pleasure. Bucky had his girl, Sam had his parties, Tony had his alcohol, Bruce had his lab… And Steve had this.
And it was the least you could do, the least all those girls before you could do, because hadn’t Steve saved you? Saved all of you? This was his payment. You were his reward.
“C-Captain?” He notices how you can’t help but stutter, and he finds it amusing despite the fact that he’s used to having this effect on women – especially immature college girls like you. You gesture down to your body, “Th-This isn’t how I was dressed – they put me in this, those bad guys! N-Now I don’t know where my clothes are, and, and…”
Once more, your voice trails off as Steve walks past you nonchalantly. He heads to the bathroom, making sure to leave the door open so he can keep an eye on you lest you try to escape. Not that you’d get very far – this whole floor was his and every lock required his facial recognition to open. In the past, other girls had tried to escape, and sometimes Steve enjoyed the chase. But tonight, he felt tense. He’d wanted to capture all the HYDRA agents but two of them had escaped. To Steve, that was failure, and failure made him tense. Angry. Frustrated. He needed someone submissive, obedient, quiet…
“C-Captain, I’m gonna be okay, aren’t I?” You ask, voice high-pitched and shaky, and Steve almost smirks. He stands in front of the sink, surveying the scratches on his face. They’d heal overnight, and once more he’d be the perfect face of the Avengers. The face of America. The face of hope, the face of good. If only they knew what went on behind his eyes, the thoughts he thought, the darkness behind the façade.
He washes his hands, observing the blood as it swirls down the drain of the sink.
“Sir… Captain… Is there a way I could call my family? They’ll be worried about me, and those people took my phone so I don’t–”
“Get on the bed.”
“H-Huh?”
“Get on the bed. I won’t repeat myself.”
Steve’s voice is soft, levelled, yet commanding. And he knows you’ll listen. He’s been over this with so many of the other girls brought in for him as a post-mission reward. You still trust him, he can see it in your eyes. You know him as the superhero you see on TV, where he’s all clean-cut and politically correct as he commands the hearts of millions through his motivational speeches and actions. And by the looks of it, you’re so naïve that he knows you haven’t yet figured out what “get on the bed” truly infers to.
And so you do, gingerly settling down on the edge of his king-sized bed, shaking like a little leaf but he can tell that you’re trying to keep a brave face as you look up at him, determined to trust the super-soldier that the whole country trusted. And breaking that trust, breaking that spirit that shone in your innocent eyes, that was the sweet release he needed tonight, or any other night after each mission made him grow more disillusioned. Breaking your trust, breaking your body so all of this was worth it.
Sometimes, Steve wonders when exactly he had changed. He remembers how plucky and optimistic he used to be. A little bit sardonic, a little bit sarcastic, but he really did have a heart of gold – at least that’s what people told him. Even after they’d dug him out from that iceberg, he’d still been that same guy. But that was years ago, and each day he grew more disillusioned with what he preached, what he stood for. He could never settle, never feel like he fully belonged in the world he kept risking his life to save over and over again. Even Bucky, who’d gone through so much, had managed to find fulfilment through finding love.
Steve, on the other hand, doesn’t think love exists.
What does exist is you… Sweet, quivering, innocent little you. The SHIELD agents know his tastes down to a tee, and physically, you’re everything he likes, everything he prefers. It’s nights like these when Steve really feels alive, when he snuffs out the innocence of some unsuspecting girl and reaps his reward for saving countless lives. He deserves this. God knows he deserves this.
“What’re you doing?” You whisper, eyes round as saucers as he reaches out to stroke your hair. He bristles slightly, annoyed by your persistant questions. You should know better – he was your superior after all. But you’d learn by the time the night was over, and so Steve resumes petting you, slipping his hand down to rub your cheek, feel your smooth skin under the rough callouses of his hand.
The same hand that had choked two or three HYDRA bastards to death earlier tonight.
“You will address me as Captain.” He says, dismantling his shield from his back and placing it on the floor against the bed. He follows your gaze, how your mouth drops open in awe despite how scared you are. His cock hardens, knowing you’re impressed by him. By his size, because he’s aware he looks even bigger in person than on the news – enough girls have told him that. And by the shield too, because it reflected his power, his status, everything that he supposedly stood for.
You clear your throat nervously, “S-Sorry, uh, Captain, I just, uh, I was wondering when you’d take me home,” you say the last few words quickly, as if you’re mouth’s dry and you’re rushing to get all your words out. “I n-need to get home, my parents will be worried about me, Captain, and I have homework–”
Steve almost snorts at that. Homework. You were even more innocent than he thought you were, if one of your biggest concerns was whether you’d get your homework done or not. And this naivete amuses him, enamours him, but most importantly, it gets him hard.
“You’ll be taken home tomorrow.” He informs you, his tone clipped and formal, clinical like a doctor informing his patient when they’d be discharged. He liked to keep it like that between him and his “rewards.” Steve didn’t believe in intimacy, and didn’t feel the need to waste kindness on you or any of the previous girls. He faked kindness and heroic optimism all day, it was only at night in the privacy of his quarters that he could shed all that away and allow his darkness to take over.
“T-Tomorrow? Why? Why not tonight? And why am I here, anyways? Everyone else was evacuated together!”
“Enough.” He says sternly, and you shrink back like a chastised child, or an injured puppy. He watches your lower lip as it juts out, and he wonders if you’ve done that on purpose as a way to appease him. He wouldn’t fall for it though, he was wise to women and all their cheap tricks they used to wrap weaker, lesser men around their fingers. Steve would never be one of those men. “You will not speak unless I give you permission.”
Your lower lip quivers, “I don’t understand…”
He sits down next to you, acutely aware of how much bigger he is than you. Leisurely, his eyes drink in your body now that he’s much closer to you. The bra pushes your breasts upwards so they spill out attractively over the creamy white lace of the lingerie, and he watches them rise up and down as you breathe heavily, probably trying to keep yourself from crying. He wishes you would cry – tears have always turned him on. But the night is young, and he knows he’ll see some tears soon, he always does.
“C-Captain, please, please help me! I’m so confused and I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know how I got into this outfit, I think they drugged me, and I’m scared, and I have homework, and I gotta go now, so pl– OW!”
Steve yanks you forward by your hair, till your face is inches from his, and he can practically smell your fear. Eyes as big as saucers look up at him, shining bright with unshed tears of both fear and pain. He loosens his grip slightly, despite the fact he isn’t holding you too tightly – but the serum gives him inhumane strength, and you’re just a weak little girl after all.
“Once again, I’m telling you not to speak without permission. Do not make me repeat myself one more time.”
You swallow harshly, bowing your head once he lets go of your hair. But your lips are now pressed tightly together, as if you’re hoping he’ll take you home if you shut up and listen. There’s still light in your eyes, you’re beginning to question him inwardly but you still trust him, Steve knows you do. And it’s not long now before he crushes that trust completely.
He sighs at your compliance, stroking your quivering bare arm, thrill shooting straight down to his cock because of how soft and smooth you are. He likes the juxtaposition between the two of you right now: you, so soft and small, so much younger than him, like a doll in your pretty lingerie that he’d picked out. And him, more than double your size, jaded with age that didn’t physically show, bloodied and scratched suit, rough hands, dark thoughts.
“C-Captain, I’m scared,” you whisper, and you really do look like you’re about to wet yourself, and it turns him on so much that he doesn’t even bristle at you speaking out of turn again.
“Good.” He murmurs, continuing to stroke you like you’re his little doll. There’s something about you, something so pure that he can’t really put his finger on. In the past, he’s been detached, unforgiving, often just throwing his “reward” on the bed, holding her head down against the mattress while he fucked the living daylights out of her. He would be detached and cold with you too, but this time he feels a peculiar need to savour you at the same time.
It's when he grabs your hand and places it on his hard crotch that you start crying in earnest, finally realising your fate.
“What’re you– No, please, not that! Please, I don’t know what’s going on, Captain, please–”
You try to snatch your hand back, but he holds it steadily in place. You’d never be a match for his strength, no matter how hard you tried – he had more brute power in his pinkie finger than you did in your whole body. And that turns him on even more.
“You’ll go home tomorrow,” he repeats, not even sure why he’s explaining anything to you, because he usually doesn’t speak to the girls brought for him at all, let alone reassure them. “Tomorrow, you’ll see your family but tonight, your body is mine and I’ll do with it what I please.”
You look like you’ve seen a ghost, but quickly you shake your head, blinking rapidly as if you’ve misheard him. “N-No, Captain, I don’t want to! Y-You can’t make me,” you look at him pleadingly, trying to tug your hand back but he holds it firmly against his covered cock, “You won’t make me, will you, Captain? Th-That’s wrong! An’ you’re a good man so you’d never do that!”
“Take it out.”
A different man would have perhaps consoled you, told you it would all be over soon, or maybe even made up an excuse to manipulate you into sleeping with him. A better man would’ve taken pity on you, given you your clothes back and taken you home. But Steve wasn’t like any of those men. All Steve was right now was impatient, and more than ready for his reward. I deserve it, he thinks once more to himself, before pressing your small hand down on his crotch meaningfully.
“Take my dick out.” He repeats sternly, and when you still don’t comply (probably because you’re frozen in shock and fear) Steve can’t help but quickly undo his fly before pushing your hand down his suit pants, letting out a hiss when he feels your dainty palm and fingers on his rock-hard flesh.
“No, no, no, please no,” you cry softly, rivulets of tears streaking your face, “This is wrong, Captain, please.”
He makes you wrap your hand around his cock, smirking to himself when your fingers don’t even come close to wrapping around all the way. The serum had made him a lot bigger than average, and a lot thicker too. So much so that every time he had sex, no matter how much he stretched the girls out, there would always be blood. He’d grown to become turned on by the sight of it.
“I’ve seen you on TV,” you whisper desperately, and he knows you’re in that state of mind where you’re just so scared that you’ll say anything and everything, “I’ve seen how you are, a-and you’re supposed to be the good guy, Captain. Please, let me go, y-you’re a good man so please–”
“Shut up.” He says simply, making you take his dick out. That quietens you up for a second, and you gape at his huge dick as it slaps up against his abs which are still covered by the suit. He hasn’t had sex or jacked off in about a week now (missions, press conferences, community work and other bullshit had kept him busy) and his dick is almost angry hard, the veins so prominent as he throbs in your hand.
“Stroke it.” He instructs you.
You shake your head, hand limp around his hard cock, “You c-can’t, this is wrong.”
“Drop the coy act,” he orders you, feeling a surge of impatience when he’s tried to be level with you for so long, “I know what you kids watch these days on the internet, and all the vulgar movies on television. Now do what I fucking say, or else.”
You look both taken aback and hurt by his sharper tone, and immediately you’re shaking your head.
“N-No, Sir, please. I don’t watch any of that stuff, I’m not allowed to, okay? A-And this is wrong on so many levels, you’re meant to be a good guy!”
Steve finds his cock hardening even more when he hears how you’re not allowed to watch the vulgarity that’s become so normalised in the media now as compared to back in the day. Were you, perhaps, a girl with morals? Someone who was raised well? He had yet to run in to such a girl in the twenty-first century.
“I’ve seen you on the news,” you try again when he doesn’t speak, “you and the Avengers, you’ve saved c-countless people. You’ve won wars for us. I w-went to see you when you gave a talk at my school last year, the one about good versus evil. You’re an inspiration, Captain, you wouldn’t do this!”
You’re talking a mile a minute, and Steve knows you’re doing it to prolong time till your inevitable fate. He’s tortured enough men to know that goners loved to run their mouths. As for what you’re saying, it has zero effect on him. He didn’t believe in what he said, what he stood for – you could never use that to persuade him to take a higher road.
He starts moving your hand up and down on his dick, hissing again because of how pleasurable your dainty hand feels on his rock-hard length, not to mention how much it turns him on that you’re still trying to pull your hand away, looking anywhere but at his cock, embarrassment mixing with the bone-chilling fear on your face.
“Y-You’re not a good man!” you finally sob out, shaking from head to toe as realisation finally seeps through your head.
Your words bristle Steve for whatever reason. In the past, his “rewards” have often back-talked him, insulted him as if they thought their words would have any impact on him – which they never did. But seeing you, with your bright, optimistic eyes that clearly looked up to him up until this moment, hearing you call him a bad guy… It makes him feel defensive.
“I saved you.” He spits out, “HYDRA attacked your university and I saved you and all your little friends. You’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”
You nod desperately, “I-I know, Captain, that’s why I don’t understand why you’re doing thi–”
“I deserve this.” He says simply, cutting you off. “I risk my life to save unthankful people like you, over and over again. Even a super soldier deserves payment, or at least an incentive to do what I do.”
Your jaw drops open, speechless and horrified. Steve couldn’t care less, and he feels another wave of impatience. Two weeks ago, he’d endured a similarly gruelling mission, and his reward had been waiting for him in his room. She’d been mouthy, of course, as most women of the twenty-first century were, but he’d fucked her and sent her packing within fifteen minutes. So why, on this particular occasion, was he sitting here making idle chit-chat with some dumb-witted college girl who was half his age?
He's always been quick, and you yelp in surprise when he grabs you by the waist, his rough fingers digging into your soft skin. He drags you into his lap, till you’re crying on top of him, your back to his chest. You struggle and flail against him, but it’s to no avail as he presses you down on top of his thigh, spreading your legs and locking them with his own.
“Stop struggling,” he orders you through gritted teeth, although he has to admit that having a weak girl like you fighting against him with all her might while he held you down with just his one arm was quite arousing, “It’ll be easier for you if you just stay still.”
“Please don’t, I-I’m not ready for this, I’ve never done this before, I–”
Steve snorts at that. He knows you’re young, but he also knows that girls in this century are promiscuous, and that’s putting it kindly. How many lies would you tell before you realised they’d all be in vain? He was goddamned Captain America, and he was going to have his way with you tonight no matter what came out of that pretty, pouty mouth of yours.
Grabbing your soft, bare thighs with his hands, he pushes them further apart, all while you cry and quiver in his arms like a wounded animal. Your white, lacy panties hide your pussy from his greedy, impatient gaze, and he wants nothing more than to rip your lingerie apart and ravage you to soothe the ache of his hard cock which is currently pressing against your back.
“Push your panties aside.” He commands, “and don’t even think about arguing with me. One more word of insubordination out of you, and you don’t even want to know what I’ll do.”
You’re sobbing and sobbing as you gingerly do what he says, and he licks his lips when he sees your bare pussy, trussed out for him as he holds your legs apart. He can’t help but press a finger on your bundle of nerves before swiping downwards over your slit. He frowns. You’re not wet. That simply won’t do.
Of course, he’s been in this situation before. Not often, because truthfully, women got wet the second they looked at him, turned on by his size, his power, his authority. But sometimes, like now, when one of his “rewards” was very scared and non-compliant, she wouldn’t be wet. Steve didn’t care, and he’d go in dry if he could except, with the sheer size of his dick, it just wasn’t physically possible. Often, he’d tell the SHIELD agents to prep his rewards before they were sent to his room – stretch their pussies out by whatever means (he didn’t care) so long as they were able to take his girth.
But you… Oh, he reckons he’ll have fun with stretching you out all by himself.
“Touch yourself.” He says into your ear, holding you in place tightly.
“I…I…I don’t know how, I don’t– I don’t do this, I’ve never done this, I–”
There’s something about your frightened demeanour that makes him realise that maybe you’re not lying after all. He raises a brow, “You’ve never touched yourself?”
“N-No, Sir – I mean Captain – I’m not allowed to. My parents are very conservative, Sir, I haven’t even had my first kiss. Please don’t make me do this!”
Steve didn’t think it was possible for his dick to get any harder, but it does. So big and painfully hard, it presses against your back almost indecently as he licks his lips, now infinitely more interested in you. So you were a girl raised right in these godforsaken “modern” times. His mind conjures up different ways in which he could teach you, mould you, ruin you… He doesn’t remember the last time he had a virgin – it was probably back in the forties, back when women were pure and of good heart and good intentions.
Maybe tonight’s reward would be sweeter than any other.
He grabs your hand, pressing it against your petal-soft folds. He takes your pointer finger and slowly, gently, circles it around your clit. You fight against him but it only takes you a few seconds to realise that your efforts are completely futile. Steve does not care for what you want, not in the least. You’re his reward, and he deserves this.
He leaves your finger on your clit, shooting you a deathly look that conveys that you better keep circling it or else. His own eager fingers explore your core, slipping down to probe you, finding that not even one of his fingers fits inside your little fuckhole. In fact, he tries pushing his pinkie finger up inside but to no avail at all. Fuck. You weren’t lying – you were definitely a virgin. Another telltale sign is how it only takes a handful of seconds before your wetness begins to spread, and you whimper softly – probably at all the foreign sensations you’re feeling as Steve continues to probe your hole.
“Feels good, huh?” Steve hears himself say softly, and he doesn’t know why he’s bothering wasting words on you. He never spoke to any of his other rewards – they were only there for his pleasure, and may as well have been inanimate objects to him. Dolls brought in for him to use and then promptly taken away when he was done with them. But you? Fuck, Steve doesn’t know what’s come over him.
“I-It won’t fit, Captain, please stop,” you cry softly when he tries to force his finger into you again. You’re adequately wet now, but your pussy continues to reject his finger, and he knows there’s no way you’ll be able to take his dick if he doesn’t stretch you out with his fingers first.
“I’ll make it fit,” he mutters, throwing you aside on the bed and standing up quickly. He sucks his finger into his mouth, tasting your sweetness and shutting his eyes for a second to savour your taste. And then he shoots you a warning look, “Stay there.”
He smirks when you don’t move an inch – probably paralysed with fear – as he walks over to the dresser next to his bed. Rummaging through his drawers, he sorts past all the sex toys that some agent had probably stocked up inside. Steve didn’t have much use for them, as he considered himself too traditional for toys. But he can’t help but be turned on by the idea of using a large dildo on you, or stuffing your virgin ass with a cute plug. But for right now, he grabs the bottle of lube – it’s half empty because of how often he’s had to use it on his past partners. Since the serum, his dick was way too big to go in naturally, especially when it came to a sweet virgin like you.
Roughly, he pushes you down till your back is pressed against his king-sized mattress. He climbs on top of you, rolling his eyes at the fight left in you, how you flail and fight against him despite his body being more than twice your size. He uses his arm to hold you down, but truthfully, he could’ve done it with just his pinkie finger.
“Stay still,” he commands, pinning your limbs down flat against the bed. You resort to sniffling and crying silently, your wary eyes watching him as he spreads your legs as wide as they’ll go. A sudden feral urge takes over him, and he rips your panties in half, the flimsy material landing gracefully on his sheets. Your bare pussy glistens up at him, now wet with your sweet cream despite how much you continue to cry. He can smell your sexy aroma; the scent of a virgin pussy and it goes straight to his dick.
With an animalistic snarl, he dips his head down between your legs. Using two fingers to spread your creamy petals, he lays his tongue flat against your quivering fuckhole. You scream in shock, body jerking underneath him but he doesn’t care. He grips your thighs, lifting your ass and lower back up off the bed, watching carnally as your wetness drips down to between your ass crack. He spreads your cheeks, smirking when you wail in surprise. He digs his eager tongue between your cheeks, probing your puckered, virgin ass before licking a straight line all the way back up to your pussy, ending with a harsh suck on your clit as he holds your hands at bay.
It’s come out of nowhere, this sudden need to taste you. Back in the forties; Steve had rather enjoyed going down on women. He knew he was skilled at giving head, he’d been told more than enough times. But he can’t remember the last time he’d done it. Never with any of his “rewards,” who were only ever good for fucking on their hands and knees like dogs. But you, you were different.
You wiggle, crying and begging him to let go of you but you may as well be a fly with how weak and inconsequential your pleas are to his ears. Instead, he laps at your baby cunt like he’s starved. Like a starved caveman, he spits down on your clit, wanting to make your pureness as messy as possible. He spreads his saliva all over your core with his fingers, marking you up with his DNA. He encases your now engorged bundle of nerves between his lips once more, giving it another hard suck but this time his teeth graze against it.
“C-Captain, oh-oh my God–Ah!”
It’s when Steve finally forces his one finger inside you that you squirt, drenching his digit as your walls clamp down around it. And God-fucking-dammit, he can’t believe how tight you’re squeezing his one singular finger, how tight and sexy and soft you feel around it. How your slippery walls pulsate around his digit like you’ve never cum before in your life – which would explain how quickly you’ve come undone. Some of your wetness lands on his face, some of it on the sheets beneath you, and that’s when Steve realises he’s given a virgin her first orgasm.
He can’t help but smirk, his finger still lodged inside you, but not even halfway because you’re still so fucking tight.
“Doesn’t seem like you want me to stop after all, sweetheart.” He says, not realising he’s used the pet-name on you until it’s already out of his mouth. He sets the lower half of your body back down on the bed, his finger still inside you.
You sniffle as your whole body shakes with the remnants of your orgasm, “P-Please,” you say faintly, and you can’t even raise your head to look down at him, “Please, can I go home now?”
Steve’s lip curls into a snarl, and he drives his finger inside you with renewed force, curving it upwards even when he feels resistance. You scream bloody murder, and he knows if your orgasm hadn’t sapped all your energy, you’d be flailing your legs again. But for now, he easily holds you down, feeling your soft walls encase his finger which is now up to the hilt inside you. That’s when he grabs the bottle of lube, squirting out a generous amount onto the rest of his fingers.
“N-No, Captain, please, I can’t take another one, I can’t, I can’t!” You plead, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “Captain – Steve – please listen to me, please, look, I can’t take another finger, pl–”
His palm lands on your clit with a wet smacking sound, and you howl in pain, your pelvis lifting off the bed except he pins you back down with just one hand.
“Don’t fucking use my first name. You will address me as Captain. One more slip up and I won’t do you the favour of stretching you out.” His intense blue eyes meet your tear-filled ones, “And trust me, you want to be stretched out for when I fuck you.”
With gritted teeth and a cock that’s now painfully hard, he gets to work trying to stuff another finger into your pussy. His other hand grabs your hip in a bruising grip, and his fingers stroke your smooth, bouncy ass every so often like he can’t help it. You’re turning him on so fucking much; with your crying, how you’re begging him to stop, how weak and small you are, how fucking tight your pussy is. It makes Steve want to say something just so he can hear you speak in response, despite the fact that he’s never vocal during sex.
“Tell me, why is your pussy so fucking tight?”
“H-Huh?”
“You heard me.”
You sniffle again, shooting him a pleading look that he doesn’t even bother acknowledging. He just looks at you with waiting eyes as he nonchalantly continues to force his second finger inside you. He wants to hear you say naughty things with your innocent little mouth, and talking would get you to fucking relax so he could penetrate you with his digits properly in order to stretch you out in preparation for his dick.
“I-I’ve never done this before…” you scrunch your eyes shut, but a quick slap to your thigh has you opening them again.
“You’ve never fingered yourself?”
“No!”
“Tell me why not.”
You bow your head, “I don’t know… I just… I never did, okay? I’ve never done any of it.”
A wicked thought crosses Steve’s mind, “Oh yeah? You’ve never done anything naughty, huh? You’re a good girl?” His second finger curves up to join the first, and your hips jerk forward as you suck in your breath. It makes him smile, and he slowly begins to pump his two fingers in and out of you, “You’ve never, say, humped your baby cunt against your pillow at night? Or your stuffed animals?”
The way you freeze and how your eyes widen is all the confirmation Steve needs. He chuckles darkly.
“So that’s the type of girl you are. Riding your pillow at night when you think no one’s watching, and you probably touch your body all over, too, don’t you?” Lightning quick, his other hand leaves your hip, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand up to your chest. Through the material of your bra, he makes you cup your breast like how he would, wanting to watch with dark eyes as you play with your tits, trying to imagine how hot you’d look doing just that all alone in the privacy of whatever girlish bedroom you had.
Steadily, he continues to finger you, pumping his digits in and out of your greedy, wet pussy, and it makes slurping sounds as it swallows his fingers in over and over again. And he observes you carefully, notices your wide eyes, the sweat on your brow, the way your lips are parted as your breathing shallows out. He even sees the slight buck of your hips, and he knows he has you where he wants you, hanging on to his every filthy word despite your mind screaming at you to continue resisting.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Steve mutters lowly, “I know that’s what all innocent little girls like you do when they think they’re alone. You play with your tits and you rub your cunt all over your pillow, till you’ve got it all wet and messy. All while you fantasise about a man like me fucking you, taking care of you, huh? I’m right, aren’t I?”
You’re full on panting now, as if his beguiling words have made you forget all about your resistance, and you rock your hips harder against his thick fingers, little pants and moans sneaking past your pouty lips as he watches you closely.
“And then you act like a good girl, and you lie to me and tell me you’ve never touched yourself. But you and I both know that’s not true. Not when you spend your nights alone in your bedroom riding your little pillow while mommy and daddy sleep in the next room, and then when you’re done, I bet you bring it up to your face, just so you can smell your own wetness, right?”
This time, he gives your ass a swift slap when you don’t reply, and you cry out in pain before squeezing your eyes shut.
“Y-Yes,” you breathe softly, so softly that he barely catches it. But it makes him grin wickedly all the same. He hasn’t had this much fun with a reward since God knows when. He never bothers speaking to the lowlife girls brought to him as post-mission rewards, let alone engaging in dirty talk with them as he was with you, hanging on to your every word because it makes his dick so fucking hard.
“Of course, I’m right,” he mutters, “Captain always knows. I know you’re a little slut in the making just like all the other college girls of this century. You bring your pillow up to your face and you smell your cunt on there, and you lick it too, don’t you? You taste yourself because you’re curious, and you don’t have a man like me to show you how it’s done.”
He slips his fingers out of your cunt, your walls automatically squeezing around them as if they want to keep him inside you. But his digits are dripping wet, and he brings them up to your face. He shoves them past your lips, and you protest but all it does is create vibrations around his fingers as he smears them inside your mouth.
“Taste yourself,” he orders you, “suck on daddy’s fingers, don’t be shy.”
It takes him a few seconds to register that he’s just referred to himself as daddy. He hasn’t done that in a while – not since the forties, at least. Back then, it was quite common for women to call their man daddy, and Steve remembers enjoying it when he used to fuck the show girls during tours. But now? He usually stuck to being called “sir” or “captain” or just nothing at all. Because “daddy” was way too intimate, it suggested that he was going to take care of you. And he wasn’t going to take care of you – he was going to ruin you before you’d be taken away tomorrow.
And yet you look so sweet and cute as you suck on his fingers, too scared to fight back any more although your eyes blaze with objection, and tears stream down your face. He doesn’t think you’ll stop crying at all tonight, but he doesn’t give a fuck about that. Not when your pouty lips look so hot sucking yourself off his fingers.
“That’s right, get ‘em nice and wet,” he murmurs lowly, before deciding he misses the feel of your tight cunt squeezing his fingers – and he still has to stretch you out, too. He removes his digits from your mouth, watching as you gasp to breathe. He trails them down your front, down your chest, down your torso, all the way down to your clit. He gives it another smack, loving how you jerk upwards like you’re so damn sensitive.
He grabs a pillow, putting it underneath your ass so he has your cunt propped up and he can examine it better. Your cream is pouring out of you almost, dripping down to the pillow below you while you cry and pretend you don’t like it. But the signs are all there, he can even see how your pelvis shakes and humps upwards, because you need a man to fill you up no matter how much you protest.
“Tight little baby cunt,” he says softly as he spreads your pussy lips once more. You look so wet and slippery and yet he knows he needs to pour some more lube into your fuckhole, which he does. And then, without giving you much time to react, he shoves three of his fingers inside you, pushing harder and with more force when he’s met with any barrier.
“STOP, NO, PLEASE! STOP, CAPTAIN – TOO MUCH!” You scream so loudly that the walls seem to vibrate around the two of you.
“Shut up and take it,” Steve says, narrowing his eyes up at you before he focuses back on your gorgeous cunt, watching as your leaking hole finally swallows his three digits, “Look at this greedy little virgin pussy, so ready for my big dick to split her in half.”
You shake your head violently, crying and protesting, but it’s when you bat at his head that he sees red. How fucking dare you hit him? Just now, when he was thinking you’d been raised well, but clearly not if you didn’t think it was a problem to hit your superiors.
“You raise your hand at me again, and I’ll hit you back twice as hard.”
His menacing words make you freeze, and you whimper quietly in absolute fear as he continues to play with your pussy. He fingers you in earnest now, three of his digits stretching you out as he scissors you open, amused by the squelching sounds your cunt makes as it swallows his fingers over and over again.
“Apologise to me,” Steve demands, “say you will not raise your hand at your superior ever again.”
You sniffle, “S-Sorry…”
“Sorry, who?” He pinches your ass unforgivingly.
“Sorry, Captain! I won’t raise my hand at my superiors, okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You squeal the last few words, your pitch going higher and higher as your hips begin to meet his thrusts. And bless your innocent fucking face, you look so confused by what’s happening. Your pussy’s jammed tight but he knows it must’ve started feeling good. All greedy little girls like you needed was a little push in the right direction.
Off their own accord, your thighs lock around his hand as you cum for a second time, your walls squeezing and pulsating against his fingers so fucking tightly as you mewl and cry above him. You’re absolutely gushing with wetness now, and the pillow below your ass is stained dark with your juices. For someone who kept claiming she didn’t want this, you sure were receptive to his touch.
Steve snatches his fingers out of you, smirking when you, despite everything, cry in protest at the loss of friction. He bets your pussy feels all gaping and empty now, because he knows how big and thick his fingers are. A normal-sized man would’ve had trouble stretching your virgin cunt out with his dick – Steve had had that same problem with just his fingers.
But he knows he’ll somehow manage to fit his cock inside you if he prepped you well enough. Or else he’d spend the whole night trying to. Often, with the women he’d slept with in the past, he’d be too impatient and couldn’t be bothered to prep them properly. Because of that, he’d only be able to fit half his dick inside them, and he’d grown used to fucking them like that, only because it was physically impossible to go any deeper. He won’t let that be the case tonight.
He climbs up your quivering body, and you look spent already after two orgasms, your eyes fluttering like you’re about to pass out. Steve can’t have that though, and he taps your cheek not so gently, hovering on top of you till you open your eyes and meet his gaze.
“Please, Captain,” you whisper faintly, “E-Enough, please. Can’t take any more.”
Steve ignores you. He’s grown distracted by your lips. How wet and warm and pouty they look, glistening with a mix of your salty tears, your cum and your saliva. Fuck. He never kissed any of his “rewards” before, it was too intimate and Steve didn’t do intimacy. But maybe…
He spits down on your face, his saliva landing on your cheek as you cringe. Fuck intimacy, Steve thinks, using his hand to smear his spit all over your face, till it’s shining with a mixture of both your bodily fluids. So messy yet so pretty…
“N-Never been kissed before!” you blurt out once more all of a sudden, as if you’ve read his mind. Your eyes plead up at him, a tiny bit of hope in your eyes as if you truly believe he’ll show you empathy and spare you, “P-Please, Sir. I’ve never been kissed, a-and I want it to be special…”
How cute. You were worried about him spoiling your first kiss as if he hadn’t just finger-fucked you to two orgasms in the span five minutes. Amused, he brings his thumb up to your mouth, stroking your pouty bottom lip gently.
“You don’t let the boys at your college kiss you?” He asks, again not fully understanding why he’s even bothering to talk to you, but he figures it’s simply because he finds it amusing.
“N-No, Captain.”
“Why not?”
“I’m t-too shy, and they’re not… they’re not interested in me,” you sound so shaky, peering up at him as if you expect him to just get off you now you’ve told him your sob story about wanting to save your first kiss to be something special.
Steve snorts. And just how fucking naïve could you be? You’re fucking delectable, he bets the lowlifes at your college creamed their pants thinking about you. Suddenly, he bristles at the thought of sending you back tomorrow, back to the dumb idiots you went to college with. But he shakes the thought out of his mind to focus solely on you.
“There’s nothing special about kissing,” he tells you, “Love, intimacy, saving yourself for that special someone – none of that’s real. The sooner you realise that, the better.”
He kisses you, cupping your cheeks with his hands so that you don’t move your face aside. At first, he’s rough, unforgiving, pressing his tongue into your mouth because you taste so sweet and he needs to get more. And then he slows down, registers your soft, quivering lips on his, how rigid they are as you don’t kiss him back. He snorts inwardly, not caring in the least. He’d kiss you all he wanted – he doesn’t care if you don’t respond.
Steve sighs into your mouth, so tuned in to your senses that he feels your breath hitch, and a tiny squeak sounds past your lips and straight into his. His thumbs, seemingly moving off their own accord, stroke your cheekbones, and he feels your body instinctively relax underneath his – probably because that’s the first and only gentle gesture you’ve felt from him this whole night.
Slowly, he sucks your bottom lip almost sweetly, as if lulling you into a false sense of security. You’re still too scared or shy to kiss him back, but that doesn’t make the kiss any less enjoyable for him. His tongue plays with yours coaxingly, because he can’t remember the last time he kissed a girl and liked it so much. And then he feels you give a tiny little kitten lick, as if you’re testing the waters as you move your tongue shyly against his. And the feeling goes straight to his dick.
He pulls away slightly to watch your face, amused when he sees your eyes scrunched shut and your lips slightly pursed, as if awaiting another kiss. And that’s what he does, giving you one, two, three quick pecks that have you inhaling deeply, and your eyes open cautiously. But they flutter shut almost immediately when they find him staring back at you.
Steve goes in for another kiss, as if one wasn’t enough because suddenly it’s like he’s parched, and his raging hard on would have to wait a second longer. His dick is as hard as a metal rod, resting against your bare stomach as he makes out with you. One of his hands reach down to cup your breast, and he can feel your nipple, hard as glass, poke against his palm even through the material of the bra. You squeak into his mouth again, as if him touching and playing with your breast is making your body invertedly respond to him.
He can definitely feel you kissing him back now, even though it’s shy and periodic… Your tongue moving slowly against his for a few seconds before you remember you’re not supposed to be enjoying this and you freeze. And then you start again, your tongue timidly stroking against his once more. Then you stop again. Repeat. It makes him smirk against your lips, feeling a rumbling in his chest like he wants to chuckle in amusement.
He pulls away, examining how breathless and cute you look. And you gaze up at him with glassy, wet eyes, those perfect, pouty lips still slightly puckered, as if you’re asking for more. But he continues to just drink in every detail of your face and how you look a mix of scared and curious, afraid and confused.
“W-Was I bad?” you breathe, and your innocent face is begging for reassurance. He knows because little girls like you always want reassurance, are always seeking out the approval of men like him. And a part of him wants to tell you no, no you weren’t bad at all. In fact, he rather enjoyed kissing you. But he keeps his mouth shut, because it wasn’t his job to reassure you. And maybe he wants you to be a bit insecure; you’d work harder in pleasing him if you thought he didn’t like your kiss.
He’s still cupping your breast with one hand, and he suddenly feels a wave of irritation at the lacy material of your bra. Quick as a wink, he tears your bra apart, the two ripped pieces now lying on either side of you. A hungry growl emanates from him, and he feels like an animal, he really just wants to suck on your tits but his dick is growing impatient, and you’d probably pass out from fear and dread if he stretched this out any longer.
He reaches to grab a condom from where he stashes them in his bedside drawer. Protection was a must for him – who knew what kinds of diseases all these modern, promiscuous girls were carrying? And yet, his hand falters before he draws back completely, his mind clouding with thoughts of how sexy your soft pussy would feel around his dick if he fucked you raw. Yes. He had to fuck you raw, feel your tight virgin pussy around him as he ruined it. He deserved as much.
Instead, Steve grabs the lube once more, acutely aware of you watching him with eyes round as saucers as he squirts a generous amount of it on his dick. He looks back at you, lying deathly still underneath him, looking like you’ve seen a ghost. He wonders if your pussy’s still tingling from the two orgasms he’s just given you, and he absentmindedly pumps his dick at the thought. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on before in his life, his dick so hard he feels he’ll blow his load right there and then.
He lines his cock up against your entrance, his hands holding your silky soft thighs apart. A part of him wishes you’d fight back just one more time, just so he could exert his dominance over you once more, just so it would highlight how weak and small you are. But you lay there, quivering in fear, definitely too scared to fight back, or too distracted by his dick he glides it up and down your wet slit in anticipation.
Suddenly, you grab his arm as if to stop him, and Steve narrows his eyes.
“W-Will it hurt?” You ask softly.
“Yes.”
You whimper, your grip on his arm tightening as another tear trickles down your cheek, and you look up at him with desperate eyes.
“Please, Captain, p-please could you… could you make it hurt less? Please?” You beg him so prettily, and he can’t help but focus on how your tears get caught in your lashes, and how you sniffle like a baby. “Please, I’m sc-scared, I– maybe if you were slow–?”
“It’s going to hurt no matter what,” Steve says briskly, feeling impatient beyond belief, and yet a part of him wants to brush and collect your tears. “In fact, if I go in slowly, it’ll hurt more.” He wonders if he should say more, say anything at all to ease your discomfort. But he reasons that that’s not his job – he’s not a lovesick boyfriend who needs to worry about your feelings. This is for him. He deserves this.
You start crying softly once more, your whole body shaking. Steve tries to ignore it, focusing on your cunt instead. His dick is twitching with excitement, the tip an angry red as he brings it up against your fuckhole. He grits his teeth and pushes in, but he can’t. You’re too tight – and he’s way too big. He sighs in frustration.
“Stop being so tense.” He orders you, pouring another decent amount of lube all over his cock as well as your entrance. He’d scissored you open with three of his fingers, but it had been an extremely tight fit. And three of his fingers didn’t compare to the girth and thickness of his dick – not even the tip of it. He frowns down at you, “You need to relax. It’ll hurt less if you relax.”
A panicked look flits over your face as you look down at his dick, and he knows you’re intimidated by his size. But then you take a deep breath, close your eyes and he feels your body get less tense underneath him. He smirks.
He grabs his cock by the base and lines it up against your hole once more. You flinch away from him, your innocent, puppy dog eyes blinking up at him. He doesn’t give a fuck though, and with a lot more determination this time, he grits his teeth and forces his way inside you.
Your scream is earth-shattering. But it’s music to his ears.          
“NO, PLEASE, NO, TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT! TOO BIG!”
You thrash violently underneath him, limbs flailing before he pins them down. But for a handful of seconds, he can’t even really focus on you. Not when he’s finally basking in the glory of being inside your tight little snatch, and it feels almost euphoric. You feel so sexy around him, so hot and velvety, squeezing the life out of his fat cock. Well, he’s only got a bit more than his tip inside you, but it already feels fucking heavenly.
“Oh fuck,” Steve mutters under his breath, trying to get a grip and not get too lost in the feeling of your gorgeous fucking pussy. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and yet he feels like his balls are about to blow with how fucking hot it feels being inside you like this.
“It hurts! T-Take it out, Captain! Please!” Your tiny hand grabs his forearm again, lips puckered so sweetly, even the grimace on your face looks beautiful. You’re beautiful when you’re in pain, and he’s addicted to the sight of it. For a split second, he imagines it’s his wedding night, and you’re his beautiful bride – sweet, innocent, beautiful bride and he’s just popped your cherry and now you’re his forever.
The thought makes him shudder, and he quickly pulls out (not that there’s much to pull out, since only his tip had entered you. You were crying and screaming just from being penetrated by only his tip, and this makes Steve smug, despite everything).
You’ve barely caught your breath when he drives his dick back inside you, and this time he really forces it in. Now that he’s got a taste of your warmth, he wants to be completely enveloped in it. His hands grab your hips tightly, forcing his fat cock inside you inch by inch. He doesn’t care if it takes all night, he was going to fully penetrate you if it was the last thing he did.
“Shhh, shut up and take it,” he orders you as you scream and protest. If any other one of his girls had screamed bloody murder the way you were doing right now, he would’ve smacked them unconscious. Not you though, and he doesn’t know why that is. “God fucking dammit, how is your pussy so fucking tight?”
“Y-You’re too big,” you answer, shaking your head over and over again, “th-this… this isn’t normal, Captain, y-you won’t fit! Please stop, something’s gonna break, I-I’m scared, I–”
He wants to break your pussy. He wants to break you.
“Shut up,” he snarls, before a thought occurs to him. Out of nowhere, he kisses you once more. Silencing your protests as his tongue works against yours, and he finds that he was already missing kissing you. God, you felt so good. Your warm, sexy lips against his and your warm, sexy pussy gripping his dick. God, fuck… So this is what great sex was, huh? Maybe he’d been fucking the wrong girls this whole time. Maybe he should’ve sought you out from the beginning – or someone like you. Someone young, innocent, unexperienced, delicate, fragile, a cry-baby. Just the complete opposite of him.
Despite everything, you kiss him back once more. Steve bets it’s because your girlish mind is trying to convince him (and yourself) that you’re a good kisser. He makes a mental note never to give you this reassurance – that way you’d just keep kissing him as if you had something to prove. Or at least that was the hope. Nevertheless, the kissing distracts you enough for him to still inside you (he’d only gotten less than a quarter of his huge dick in) and then he pulls out.
The third time he penetrates you, he does it with more force than ever before. And he bites your lip hard, grunting against you till he can taste your blood. That’s when he finally pushes more than halfway inside you, and he hears something rip from within. And you scream, you scream so fucking loudly and straight into his mouth, but he continues to kiss you, basking in the feeling of being inside you properly now. His dick feels so constricted inside your tight walls, but it’s the best feeling he’s ever felt.
He breaks the kiss to look down into your eyes, and savour your reaction to being impaled by him, to being filled up by only half his length. But your head lolls to the side, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
You’ve passed out.
“What a fucking baby,” Steve hisses, shallowly thrusting in and out of you. “Can’t even take daddy’s dick inside this tight little snatch of yours without passing out, can you?” Truthfully, he doesn’t even want to pull out, he’s so obsessed with how good your pulsating pussy feels around his dick. But he knows he needs to draw back so he can thrust back in even deeper. He’s only got half his dick inside you now, but he’s determined to get in balls deep before the night is over.
“Wake the fuck up!” he commands, wanting you alert as he defiles you. He slaps your cheek lightly several times, to no avail. He sighs, reaching for the glass of water on his side table. He dips his fingers into the liquid before sprinkling the water over your face. He slaps your cheek again, harder this time, and it turns him on when he hits you, taps into his darkest, most masochistic desires that he keeps under wraps from even himself.
It's only when he pulls out and slams back into you that you suddenly rouse, and it takes you a nanosecond to start screaming again, panicking and flailing underneath him once more. But he’s not having it this time, and quickly plasters his palm over your mouth to silence you.
“Tell me... how does daddy’s dick feel?” He asks you darkly, and he can sense the sadistic smile on his face fuelled by the sheer power he has over you right now. “And I’ll backhand the fuck out of you if you start screaming again, so don’t even try it.”
He removes his hand from your mouth and focuses on pushing more into you, and you pant underneath him, silently sobbing and cringing in pain. And yet you swallow and look up at him bravely.
“I-It hurts!”
“Address me properly.”
“C-Captain, it hurts!”
He narrows his eyes, “No. I asked you how does daddy’s dick feel?”
Your jaw drops open, and it looks like you’ve momentarily forgotten that he’s currently trying to impale you with his huge dick. Your face has the audacity to look mortified, and he wonders how innocent you truly are.
“I can’t… I can’t call you… That’s wrong!” you sputter, looking almost – dare Steve think it – cute. With your wide eyes and indignant gaze and delicious pouty lips in the shape of an o. You seem to blurt out your next words without even thinking: “Y-You’re not my dad!”
Steve barks out a laugh before he can stop himself, but he straightens his face almost immediately, reaching up to grip your chin harshly between his thumb and forefinger. Faced with your horror-struck reaction to calling him daddy, he now wants you to address him as that and nothing else.
“Listen, sweetheart. You may have noticed by now that you don’t get much of a say in what happens to you tonight,” he licks up your jawline before his lips brush against your mouth, and he speaks in a whisper, “Now answer my question. And address me properly. Or else.”
You look mortified, scrunching your eyes shut as you breath rapidly in and out. “It… It hurts…daddy.”
Steve feels like he’ll bust a nut right there and then. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on. You’re so small and shy, so tiny and naïve and scared like a baby, and now you’re calling him daddy in that sexy, shaky voice of yours. Goddamn, what a sexy little slut you were. And he’d take care of you tonight, just like any daddy would. Oh… damn right he’d be your daddy tonight. God fucking dammit, you were such a little slut for calling him that!
With a renewed, carnal type of lust, Steve grabs your legs and hoists them over his shoulders. You yelp as he folds you in half like a goddamned pretzel. And the juxtaposition, the visual of your naked body underneath him still in his bloodied suit from the mission – God, it turns him on so much. He presses another kiss to your lips, guiding you into making out with him, wanting you to get obsessed with the idea of kissing him. And then he pulls away, and looks you right in the eye.
“Now you can scream.”
“Huh?”
He slams into you so fucking hard, he’s sure you see stars. And if you were screaming loudly before, it’s nothing compared to now. His entire floor is sound-proofed, but he’s sure the people above and below can hear you. He’s pushed himself far deeper into you, so deep that he senses something rip inside you again. And you’re crying, your little fists pounding against his chest, and yet Steve grits his teeth and mutters, “take it, just fucking take it,” pushing into you bit by bit, inch by inch, so determined to finally get his cock all the way inside you. Pulling out a bit, then pushing in some more while your tight walls try to push him out but he’s so much fucking stronger than you.
A deep rumble emanates past his lips when he finally – fucking finally – bottoms out inside you, and he leans down to press his forehead over yours so he can savour the moment. You were his, completely, irrevocably, undeniably his. You whimper and cry underneath him but it’s music to his ears, your sweet reaction to him popping your cherry, completely snatching away your virginity and possessing it as his forever. He looks down to where you two meet, sees your pussy stretched out completely around his girthy dick, and it makes him want to spontaneously combust.
“You’re mine.” Steve breathes against your lips, and for the second time tonight, the image of you as his little bride flits through his mind. Yes, you’d make a very fitting bride for him. Small and submissive and innocent. And he’d never taken marriage seriously before now but… well, how could he give you up? When he’d taken your virginity and made you his? How could he possibly send you back to wherever you’d come from? The mere thought fills him with vitriolic rage. No. You were to stay with Steve, and you’d be his bride. His wife. His. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”
You don’t argue this time, or even hesitate. He knows he’s broken you when you look up at him, dazed expression on your face. “I’m – I’m yours, daddy.”
Fuck. And you’d gone and called him daddy again without him even having to prompt you. Yes. That more than sealed your fate. You would be his now. His girl. His wife. He’d keep you locked up in his room forever, the same reward that he’d look forward to coming home to after every mission.
“How does it feel to have your baby pussy split open on my cock, sweetheart?” He presses kisses down the nape of your neck, excitement rippling through him at his impulsive decision to make you his wife. The thrill of finding a bride as cute as you makes him want to kiss you even more, and he nips at your neck before reaching your lips, pecking them once, twice, three times. All while you look up at him with glassy, wet eyes and a pitiful expression mixed with something else.
“Please,” you breathe quietly against his lips, and with sapped energy you manage to grab a fistful of his suit, pulling it to get his attention, “Please, make it hurt less. Please.”
Steve smirks, pulling out of you and preparing to slam back in. But he grows distracted by the sight of his cock, completely coated scarlet with your blood. Your virgin blood. The pillow under your ass is stained with drops of dark crimson too, and he’s never seen anything like it. Fuck. He’d really done a number on you, hadn’t he? And he hadn’t even begun fucking you yet.
I deserve this, he thinks to himself.
He slams into you again, the gasp dying in your mouth when he grabs you by the chin and forces you to look down at where you two meet. Your eyes grow wider, your mouth dropping open as you shake your head in disbelief at the sight of your pussy so stretched out to accommodate his girth.
“What’re those conservative parents of yours gonna think when they find out their good little girl just got her pussy ripped apart by a man twice her age?”
You swallow and shake your head, “I–I…”
“Answer me!”
“They’d be d-d-disappointed!” You cry out, ripping your gaze away from the sight of his dick penetrating your formerly virgin pussy, instead looking up at him instead, your mouth looking so deliciously pouty.
Steve smiles wickedly, “It’s a good thing you’re not their little girl anymore, huh? You’re mine now, so their opinion doesn’t matter.”
“Th-They like you! They’re fans of you… They wouldn’t like this at all! OH MY GOD!” You gasp, and he has to hold you down to keep you from sliding upwards from the power of his thrusts. You cry out once more, “W-Was supposed to – ah! – wait till I was married…”
The mention of marriage has Steve imagining you as his little bride once more. He already owned your body, mind and soul – but the marriage certificate would make sure he owned you under the eyes of the law too. His kept woman you’d be, fluttering around his apartment like a bird in a gilded cage. Or maybe he’d move you into one of the suburban properties he owned, where he could come home to you and relieve all his tension and worries. Yes. It would be perfect. He’d make all the arrangements tomorrow…
For now, he focuses back on fucking you silly. Pulling out all the way, he rams his dick straight back into your cunt, and you let out a sound that’s a mix between a squeak and a moan. He looks down at you curiously.
“You like that? You like daddy’s big dick?” He grabs your hands, squeezing them tightly.
“T-Too big!” Your eyes flutter shut as if you’re about to pass out again. “C-Captain, please slow down! H-Hurts so bad!”
Steve bristles. Hadn’t he explicitly told you to call him daddy? After all, he’d be your daddy now. You wouldn’t be your father’s property after tonight. No, you were Steve’s. He was your daddy, and he’d take care of you because you’d soon become his bride. But he wouldn’t have an insolent, insubordinate wife who couldn’t take instructions well. That wouldn’t do at all.
He grunts, letting go of your hands and wrapping his fingers around your throat instead. You squeal in protest but it lands on deaf ears. His other hand presses down over your mouth once more.
“Shut up!” He snaps, “Stop squealing like a little bitch. It hurts but you’re just going to have to take it. And you better start calling me daddy, or else I’ll drag you back downstairs and fuck you in front of everyone.” He only means it as a threat, but he knows by the way your breath hitches that you’re innocent enough to believe him.
He removes his hand from your lips and taps you roughly on your cheek, “Tell me you understand.”
You nod, receiving a harder tap on your cheek and a menacing look.
“I-I understand, daddy, I – oh – oh my!”
He thrusts into you with such force, he knows you’re seeing stars. And it’s subtle, but Steve catches it. He catches the shift in your expression, this unfamiliar spark in your eye as if you don’t know what’s happening with your body. But Steve knows. Your body is finally starting to respond to his cruel ministrations – just like he knew you would. You were an innocent little baby but you were also a horny little slut who was enjoying getting fucked by a man like him.
“It’s starting to feel good, huh?” Steve whispers against your lips, imagining the different ways he’d take you for the rest of the night. Of course, you’d probably pass out again once he was done with this first round. But after that? Maybe he’d put you on top of him, bounce you up and down on his cock and get in even deeper that way. Or he’d make you suck his cock, or maybe he’d manhandle you till you were on his face, rubbing that sweet, gorgeous little baby cunt on his –
“I-I don’t understand!” You cry, and he feels you wiggle your hips subtly as if you’re trying to do it without him noticing, “Feels…feels…oh, oh god!” With abandon, your head lolls back and you rut your hips up against his dick, meeting his thrusts. Steve chuckles, a satisfied feeling spreading across his chest.
“All that crying and screaming, just for you to enjoy getting fucked by me,” Steve murmurs, brushing your hair off your face so he can gauge your expression better. You look so pitiful, biting your lip and looking up at him with wet eyes, humping up against his dick and your eyes reflecting the confusion you felt. “But don’t worry, all little girls like you love getting fucked by their daddy. It’s only natural, sweetheart.”
“D-Daddy, please,” you pant, and now your hands come up to grip a fistful of his suit, and he knows that you don’t even understand the pleasure you’re slowly starting to feel. And you’re gripping his cock so tight as he rams in and out of you, building up a steady pace now. He knows he’s found your g-spot and he’s pounding against it, but you have no fucking clue and it’s the hottest fucking thing ever.
“Look at you, humping your baby pussy up against daddy’s dick,” Steve shakes his head as if he’s reprimanding you. He spits down on your face, wanting you even messier. His hand leaves your throat as he shoves two of his fingers past your lips, spreading them open and spitting again. His saliva lands on your tongue, “Swallow it, you nasty fucking slut. I knew I’d make you my little slut before the night was through. I said fucking swallow it. That’s right. Good girl.”
“Ah, ah, ah– tingles… I – daddy! P-Please, I don’t know what’s – AH!”
 Your breathless moans and nonsensical garbles are like music to his ears, but nothing compares to the way you clamp down on his cock when you suddenly squirt around it. The way you squeak and clutch him tightly, and he fucks you through your orgasm. Your very first orgasm while getting fucked, and it’s so fucking sexy the way your tight walls flutter around him. God, he could get used to this feeling – buried deep inside your wet, tight snatch every single night from here on out.
“Did daddy make you feel good?” He breathes, hips moving like a jackhammer, his balls slapping against your pussy as he continues to fuck you.
You nod timidly, wiped out from your orgasm to say anything else. He smirks, watching your breasts bounce up and down as he fucks the living daylights out of you and you just lie there beneath him and take it. As if a part of you had understood that this was to be your job from here on out – his little fuckdoll, his little prize after God knows how many listless years of saving the world, saving people who he didn’t give a flying fuck about.
He’d won countless medals of honour, rewarding him for his bravery in serving his country, in saving his people. But you were his true prize, with your tight cunt that was his and his only. And how jealous every other man would be! He knew they already envied his physique, his fame, his authority. Now all those assholes would have another reason to envy him – because his little bride was the most innocent, most vulnerable, most beautiful girl they’d ever lay their eyes on. And it would be his bed in which you’d be, night after night, waiting with spread legs for him to fuck you.
Of course, he’d fuck other women if he so wanted to. Steve didn’t believe in love or monogamy. He believed in ownership, though. And he owned you, every part of you from your cunt to your soul. You wouldn’t even look at another man ever again, or else Steve would have you killed. And the thought of you with another man is what incenses him even more.
With a low growl, he pulls out of you. Your eyes shoot open, your mouth pausing mid-moan to look up at him desperately. Your cunt shamelessly humps the air, and he can’t believe what a little harlot you’ve turned into after your first taste of sex. He looks down at his blood-covered dick, grabbing it by the base. He lays his fat cock on your stomach, painting your smooth skin scarlet with your own virginal blood. The sight turns him on even more, and with another growl, he puts your legs down and flips you over on your stomach.
He grabs your ankle, dragging you to the foot of the bed while you squeak in protest and confusion. He gets off the bed, standing up to his full height as you cower beneath him, looking back at him over your shoulder warily, a trail of blood on the sheets from where he’d dragged you.
“Hands and knees,” he orders, “and don’t fucking make me repeat myself.”
This time, you do obey pretty quickly. Mustering up whatever energy you have left, you shakily get on your hands and knees. He grabs your hips just in time, keeping you upright before your body has a chance to collapse. Your legs are shaking and he knows your body can’t take much more. He doesn’t care, because he owns your body and you’ll take what he gives you.
“Nice ass,” he smirks, squeezing and kneading your ass cheeks liberally before giving your ass a hard smack that has your knees buckling. He hoists you back up by your hips, “Thank me for the compliment, sweetheart.”
“Th-Thank you, daddy.” You answer almost at once, and Steve grins wolfishly. He’s broken you. He bets you’d do just about anything to please him now. He bets you’ve forgotten about your life back home, and all your tiny mind can think about now is your daddy and his big cock.
With a grunt, Steve pistons his fat cock inside you once more. And god, from this angle, with your gorgeous, perky ass right in his fucking face, he feels like he’s going to blow his load any second. You start moaning again, rocking your hips backwards, garbling “please” and “daddy” and other nonsense. Your ass bounces with each thrust, and Steve can’t help but slap it brutally hard, over and over again, wanting you even more bruised and bloody than you already are right now.
“You like it rough, don’t you?” he asks, slapping and pinching your ass while he watches his dick disappear inside your sexy cunt over and over again, “you tried to act all innocent and cute, telling me you had fucking homework to do tonight, fuck!” He lifts your hips up off the bed to get a better angle, till he’s holding your entire lower body up in the air.  It gives him better leverage, since he’s so tall, and he fucks you on his dick like you were nothing more than a fleshlight.
“I – ah, daddy! – I d-do have h-h-homework – OH MY GOD!”
It just gets Steve even harder, hearing you be so innocent despite being held up and fucked like a dog. You’ve got your elbows propped on the mattress to keep you up, your legs flailing helplessly as he holds your hips in the air, ramming you repeatedly with his fat cock till he knows you’re seeing stars.
“Forget about your fucking homework from now on,” he spits out, grabbing your ass lewdly and jiggling it, fascinated by how it bounces so cutely. “There’s no way I’m letting you go back to that college of yours.”
“Wh-What?”
He doesn’t answer, and the room is filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin, the carnal sound of Steve staking his claim on you. With all his other rewards, he’d be done in about fifteen minutes. You, he’d have you all night if he could. Well, he can – he’s built like a fucking tank with stamina for days. You, on the other hand, keep looking like you’re going to pass out and he’s pretty sure he’s done some type of damage to your pussy. He’d have SHIELD’s physician check you tomorrow.
He throws you back down on the bed, not giving you a chance to even catch your breath before he’s on top of you, flipping you on your back and urgently pressing his lips to yours. Much to his smugness, this time you respond as if it’s muscle memory, kissing him back as best as you can. And for a person who’s just learnt how to kiss, you sure were extremely desperate for it. You keep kissing him even when he enters back into you for the third time, fucking you on your back and this time you wrap your arms and legs around him like a goddamned koala bear, your kisses growing more fervent till Steve pulls away and chuckles against your lips.
“You like kissing me?” He finds himself asking you, holding you in place beneath him as he fucks you hard, but his one hand comes up to grip your chin so you don’t look away, “be honest, baby. You like kissing daddy?”
Your eyes widen in fear at the direct question, and he watches the panic on your face. But then your features contort in pleasure as he repeatedly hits that spot deep inside you, and you nod desperately, surging up to kiss him again but he pushes you back down.
“Use your words.”
“Ah, y-yes, I do, okay!? I like it! P-Please!”
You start doing that thing again, humping pathetically up into him as if to meet his thrusts. And he wonders if you realise how easy he’s truly going on you. He reckons he’s using about five percent of his power right now as he rams into you repeatedly. Any more than that and he’s sure he’d shatter your pelvis or cause permanent damage.
“Kiss me, then.” Steve says, not knowing why he sounds so gentle. He probably had something stuck in his throat, but he doesn’t dwell over it because, like a good little girl, you obey him. Your needy lips, your desperate tongue poking against his in a perfect kiss. He groans into your mouth, his thrusts going sloppy as your cunt squeezes around him because you’re so turned on by him kissing you.
“Am I… A-Am I doing this right, daddy?” You breathe, batting those fucking sexy, innocent eyes up at him.
Steve smirks, “You’re fine.”
You’re more than fine, of course – but he doesn’t need you knowing that. He needs you to be as insecure as possible. It made you even hotter, the look of self-doubt that you have on your face right now. He’s violated your body, he’s still violating your body, and yet all you seem to be focusing on is the fact that he thinks your kissing is “fine.” Not good, not great… but fine.
You kiss him once more, even more desperately this time, as if you’re trying to prove something. Steve relishes how easy it is to play with your mind, how naïve you are. How much he’ll enjoy playing with you when he makes you his wife. He continues pistoning his dick inside you as he lets his mind wander.
All the others would be so fucking jealous of him – even Bucky, who had a girl already but Bucky’s girl was nothing compared to you. He’d drag you around the whole building, the whole headquarters, the whole compound, showing you off like a shiny, new toy. That’s what you were – his very own toy.
He’d take you into meetings with him, make you sit on his lap and play with you in front of everyone. And he’d chop the dick off of anyone who looked at you in a way he didn’t like. He’d make you wear pretty dresses, make you look like a cute little housewife, train you to answer his every command. Fuck yeah, you’d be his reward. He deserved you, after all he had sacrificed for his country, for the world.
“D-Daddy, I’m feelin- tingly again!” you moan, your words shaky from how hard he’s fucking into you. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist and in return he clutches you harder, determined to make you squirt again before he had his own release.
“Oh yeah? What does it feel like?”
“D-Daddy – nngh…ah, I–I–”
He swats your clit harshly, making you howl in what he knows is pleasure. His dick hammers in and out of you unforgivingly, and you’re such a fucking slut, humping up against him, crying for your release. And it’s such a far cry from how much you were resisting him at first, he can’t believe what a little slut he’s reduced you to in such little time.
“Stupid girl, can’t even talk anymore, can you?” he mocks, pinching your clit meanly, bullying it as he rubs it fiercely. Till you’re thrashing underneath him, so desperate to cum that you don’t even care that your body is betraying you. “Tell me you’re a stupid little girl!”
“Oh fuck! I’m a – a – a stupid little girl!”
He can see the remnants of your tears stained to your cheeks, and he feels a carnal level of possession within him. With a growl, he lewdly licks the side of your face, claiming his territory, tasting your salty tears. Roughly, he tugs your hair, pulling your head to the side and biting down on your neck. So hard that he draws blood, and then he licks that up too. God, what a little slut you were – a slut disguised as an angel and you were making him act like a motherfucking animal.
And now the side of your neck sported his bite mark, your porcelain perfect skin marred by his branding of you. And this was just the beginning – Steve already knows that he plans to mark you in many different ways. Tomorrow, he’d get one of the agents to bring over a tattoo artist to tattoo his initials somewhere on your body. Maybe right above your baby cunt, just so you would always remember who you belonged to. He smirks, and wonders what your conservative parents would think of that.
“What would your parents think now, sweetheart?” He asks, grabbing one of your legs and hoisting it over his shoulder for a better angle. And you’re so pliable, so easily going along with whatever he’s doing to you like a perfect little doll. “What would they think of their perfect little girl getting fucked by Captain America like it’s her fucking job?”
You panic, as if the mention of your parents is a reminder of how wrong this all is for you – not that Steve gives a fuck. Biting your lip to keep from moaning at all the sensations you’re feeling, you shake your head. Only for him to slap you not so lightly on the cheek.
“Answer me, baby girl.”
“They’d – ah – they’d hate this, they’d be upset, they’d – OH FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” You scream out all of a sudden, your pussy walls gripping him like a vice, “O-Oh, I’m feelin– I gotta–”
“Hold it.” Steve hisses warningly.
But you don’t. Of course, you don’t. Babies like you couldn’t hold orgasms for shit. And you cum, crying for him and gripping him tightly, and Steve feels like he’s going to lose it with how sexy it feels. It feels like your cunt is trying to swallow him up, crying for his seed as it pulsates around his fat cock that continues to move in and out.
“Bad girl,” Steve chastises, giving you another not-so-gentle slap on the cheek because you look like you’re about to faint again. He jostles you with the forces of his dick, still ramming in and out of you at lightning speed. “You do things without permission a lot at home?”
You have the audacity to, despite everything, look indignant: “N-No, never, I never–”
“Then what made you think you could cum without your daddy’s permission?”
Your lips purse as if you’re about to cry, and you blink up at him so goddamned innocent. Steve’s honestly surprised he’s still going, surprised he hasn’t busted a fucking nut with how goddamned cute and sexy you are.
“I’m…I’m sorry, I couldn’t – ah! – I had to, I–I–”
“Give me another one,” he orders you darkly.
“Wh-What–”
“You heard me. Cum for daddy again. Since you like doing it so much.”
Frantically, you shake your head, “C-Can’t! Too much, daddy, it’s too much– O-O-HHH GOD!”
He reaches down to strum your clit before a dark thought crosses his mind. His fingers slip lower, gathering the wetness of your pussy along the way. Lower, between the cleft of your ass cheeks. He can’t resist giving one of your perky cheeks a hard smack, before going straight for your puckered hole. He circles it with his thumb and your body stiffens in shock and horror.
“N-No, daddy, no please, that’s wrong, that’s–”
Steve shoves his finger in your tight, virgin asshole. He hadn’t been planning on defiling that third hole tonight, but oh well. And it’s even tighter than your pussy, and you clench against his digit like a fucking whore because he knows you like it. You like your daddy’s finger up there. His fucked up little wife-to-be… God, you were so perfect for him.
 With his fat cock, Steve fucks your pussy and at the same time, his huge finger fucks your tiny ass. Pumping in and out of your tiny hole while you cry and yet once more you slowly begin humping up against him. As if the depravity of it all turned you on even more – which he knew it did.
Your hand tugs at his bicep, making him shift his gaze back up to you.
“It’s happening again, daddy, it’s– d-don’t stop, I–”
Steve licks his lips, “Say you’ll marry me.”
Your eyes widen the most they have all night, “Wh-What?!”
“Say it!” He orders, “Say it or else I’ll fucking stop and leave you hanging. Say you’ll marry me, be my wife and do whatever the fuck I tell you to do.”
“N-No, I–”
He stills his hips, only for you to shake your head and grip his arm harder in desperation, humping up against him hopelessly.
“Say it. Say you’re daddy’s little bride. Fucking say it.”
“I-I’m daddy’s little bride, okay? I’ll do it, daddy, I’ll marry you, I – OH FUCK, PLEASE – I’ll do whatever you say, I, just please, I–” You’ve lost it, completely lost it as new tears swell from your eyes and you beg him as if you have no shame at all. And Steve feels all the pride and smugness in the world as he resumes fucking you, knowing he won’t last any longer after this carnal display of submission from you.
“Cum.” He orders you, “right now, sweetheart, do what I say and cum for daddy.”
You squirt so violently around his cock, that your whole body shakes and shudders, you’re so overwhelmed by pleasure. Toes curled and tears streaking your face, you hold him so tightly that he’s surprised by your strength, and you keep moaning his name, you keep moaning “daddy” over and over again as if he got his agents to reprogramme your brain and it’s all you know how to say now.
“That’s right, baby girl,” he mutters lowly, “squeeze that pretty little princess cunt around daddy’s dick. You’re such a good fucking girl.”
“Th-Thank you, daddy,” your meek response, barely audible by how quietly you say it, is not something he expected, and it goes straight to his dick. Not you, not his little bride, thanking him for deflowering you in the most brutal way possible? Fuck, he’d broken you. You’d be licking the palm of his hand by tomorrow; he just knew it.
The thought makes him shudder, his dick twitches and then he unloads inside you. Spurt after spurt unloaded straight into your pussy, and it’s such a satisfying feeling, pumping you full of his seed. Filling you the fuck up, and he’s glad he didn’t use the fucking condom. And there’s so much of his cum, because of the serum of course, so much that it doesn’t even fit inside you. It pours out of you and you watch with wide eyes before letting out a soft cry.
“I’m not… I’m not protected, I don’t take birth control, I–I…” Your voice trails off, too weak to voice any more protestations as Steve continues to empty himself inside you, your words having no effect on him whatsoever.
“Good. You’d be lucky to carry my child.” Steve informs you, his cock already thickening again at the thought of him knocking you up. He’d never had an interest in having children before now, but fucking a whole family into you seems like the hottest fucking thing he could do right now. Captain America: the family man. It made sense for his image.
Your protests fall on deaf ears, and he remains inside you, till he’s finally emptied out and your poor, raw pussy is overflowing with his cum. But he stays on top of you, propped up on his elbows as he watches you underneath him. Your chest rising and falling as you breathe, and you’re so pretty, and he can’t help but lean down to kiss you again. Once, twice, three times. He frowns when you don’t kiss him back, drawing back to take another look at you.
Your eyes have fluttered shut. Your body couldn’t take it. You’ve passed out once more.
Steve smirks, feeling himself hardening up again inside you. He had absolutely no qualms with fucking you back to consciousness again.
***
It’s gone past midnight when Steve hears a knock on his door. He calls for them to come in, and two SHIELD agents appear in his doorway. The same two who always come to take away his rewards after he’s done with them.
The female agent’s jaw twitches at the sight. Steve on the bed, having changed and washed up with a quick shower. And you’re next to him, passed out on the bloodied sheets. Steve reckons you look beautiful, like you’re sleeping.
“Would you like for us to take her away, Captain?” The male agent asks.
“No. She will stay with me. Contact her family and let them know, make them pack a bag for her and make sure it arrives here by tomorrow.”
The male agent nods, but the female – it’s always the damned females, Steve scorns – she hesitates.
“Captain, she looks like she’s in bad shape. Maybe–”
“That will be all.” Steve interrupts, “you can leave now.”
They do, and Steve turns his attentions back to you – his little girl, as you begin to stir.
“Shhh,” he orders, when you open your mouth to speak. Your eyes look bleary, you look confused, wondering whether all this was a dream or not. Steve’s in no mood to indulge you, and yet he presses his thumb past your lips. And fuck, it goes straight to his dick when you readily accept it, sucking his thumb like a baby as you blink up at him.
His beautiful, broken little bride.
“Go back to sleep.” Steve tells you, “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day for us. You need all the rest you can get.”
Yes, tomorrow. When he’d parade you around his teammates as Captain America’s little bride. It would be perfect. His forever reward.
Tony had his alcohol, Sam had his parties, Bruce had his research and Bucky had some girl. But Steve? Steve had drawn the best cards out of all of them. Because he had you. Your submission, your devotion. You.
He deserved this.
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AKFSLA THE END!! Steve's inner monologue was unhinged af. I know! Please, please let me know what you think!!! It would mean the world, please do reblog and leave feedback!!! I have been writing this for around two weeks and would love to know what you think!!! As usual, thanks so much for reading my work and supporting me!!! I love you guys!! SORRY IF IT SUCKED ASDAGNL.
ALSO please forgive me if i got anything wrong about shield or hydra or any of that. like i literally am not an expert asnglagl okaybye!!!
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marvelfilth · 1 month
Text
Torn (18+)
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, Wanda Maximoff x f!reader
Warnings: set during AoA, kryptonian!reader, love triangle, established Natasha x reader - fwb situation, somewhat toxic!Natasha, smut, violence, jealousy
Summary: after your home planet is destroyed, you find a new home in Asgard, but when your brother brings you along to Earth, you find more trouble than you expected.
Masterlist
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"F-fuck, Y/n. Right there… Yes." The woman below you pants in your ear, nails scraping down your back to grip your butt possessively.
Your hips move faster, deeper with each thrust, making her moan. "You could've told me you were coming back today," you grunt.
She digs her nails into your skin and you hiss in annoyance, slapping her inner thigh. "Do that one more time and I'm not fucking you for a week."
The spy lets out a throaty laugh that turns into a scream when your thrusts suddenly become harsh and uncoordinated, your hands pressing down her hips. Her tits bounce with each push, her perky nipples begging for attention. You look up to her tear stricken face, enjoying the sight of her reddened cheeks and bleeding lips.
"It was- fuck… u-undercover," she's breathless, stuttering, "... secret," she manages at last, pulling your face down to her breasts, knowing you still have something to say.
You're annoyed and maybe a little bit hurt, but you still let her guide you, eagerly sucking on the tender skin, grazing her nipples with your teeth.
Maybe she'll finally agree to talk to you after.
She comes with a stifled cry, hiding her face in the crook of your neck and gets up as soon as her body stops shaking.
You have a lot of things to say, but your mouth is suddenly too dry and your throat too hoarse, so you sit on the edge of your bed and watch her dress.
"Thank you," she kisses you on the corner of your mouth, lingering, nose nuzzling against yours when she pulls away.
She looks reluctant to leave and you hope she doesn't.
The door clicks shut on her way out.
×××
"No daydreaming on the mission briefings." Clint snaps his fingers in front of your face, pulling you out of your thoughts.
You blink, eyes refocusing to see everyone staring at you in question.
"What?" You ask, shifting in your seat.
"Stark wants to know if you like your new suit," Natasha asks with a smirk on her face.
You look up at the screen in front of the room and there it is - yet another heavily modified piece of clothing you undoubtedly going to destroy on your next mission.
You can admit it looks better than the previous one, the red is much deeper and the blue is not as obnoxious, but they still clash, not coming together as seamlessly as the one you wore back home, but that's the best Stark can offer and you're thankful he's even trying, so you nod in appreciation and send him a grateful smile.
"Think this one will fall apart mid flight?" Thor teases, reminding you of one of your most embarrassing moments.
It happened when you first joined the team. Tony made you wear a suit he made, claiming it was good to match with the team, so you've listened to make him happy and fit in better. It's a good thing you wore your underwear from Asgard that day.
"Now that it's settled we should move on to the purpose of this briefing," Steve waited until he had everyone's attention before continuing, "now that Thor is finally here we can finally take back the Scepter…" he continues with the details and you easily tune him out, focusing on the redhead woman across from you instead.
The corner of her lip is still quirked up, her eyes trained on Steve as he gestures to the map on the screen behind him. You look down at your hands on the table, fiddling with your thumbs.
You wish you were better at reading humans.
“You okay?” Clint leans into your side to whisper discreetly.
You nod, managing a convincing smile. “Didn't get much sleep is all.”
He glances at Natasha not so subtly, his brows furrowing. You think he's the only one who knows about the two of you, or, at least, he suspects.
“You know what you're doing, right?”
“Yeah,” you breathe out, not knowing at all.
×××
You're hovering over the base, looking through the walls for Scepter, when you first see her.
The girl looks about your age, you think, maybe a little younger, and she is busy talking to a silver haired man. They look too out of place, dressed like high schoolers and unbothered by the attack. You frown when the girl whispers a quiet "take care of the big guy" to the boy, your mouth dropping open in shock when he runs almost fast enough to go unnoticed by you. Almost.
Deciding it's your time to intervene you warn the team before landing in front of the back entrance, eyes trained on the girl behind the door. You don't know what she's capable of and you find yourself intrigued. The door opens with a squeak and you wince, mutterings a curse under your breath.
She's out of sight by the time you enter, but you can still hear her erratic heartbeat.
"Come out," you say, tilting your head to the right. You heard enough to know she's hiding in the shadow.
You hear her gulp before she steps into your field of view, her shoulder grazing yours as she comes to stand in front of you.
She is beautiful, you think, taking note of redness in her pupils.
"You know who we are," you wait for her to nod before continuing, "you can come with me." You offer your hand, palm up, and wait for her to decide.
She scoffs and her eyes turn redder. "What makes you think I want to?" There's red around her fingers now and you find yourself curious to find out what she can do.
You smile. "You will come with us one way or another. I'd prefer not to hurt you."
You realise your mistake as soon as the words leave your mouth.
Suddenly, there's red everywhere and you're out of the building, flying through the door to the other end of the backyard. You feel a pressing weight on your chest, and when you look down you see red wisps enveloping your body, keeping you pinned to the ground.
You look up when a shadow falls on your face.
She crouches with a smirk planted on her smug face, and moves your hair out of your face. "You can come with me," she offers, mirth in her eyes and you let out a breathless laugh, closing your eyes and tilting your head back.
"I'm afraid I have to say no," you whisper after a moment, strangely content at the mercy of your enemy.
She hums, waving her hand over you and you feel the weight disappear.
When you open your eyes she's no longer there.
×××
"You just let her go?" Natasha asks later that night, her head nestled on your chest after hours of hiding her moans in a pillow as you pounded into her.
You snort. "She's a witch, Nat, I don't think I can keep up with magic."
She lifts her head to look at you, eyes searching for something you're not even aware of. "You're the fastest person on this planet. Faster than her brother, and certainly faster than her."
You look away, closing your eyes in embarrassment. You didn't even think about your speed when you faced the witch.
You feel her get up from bed, and you open your eyes, reaching for her, "Natasha- " Her eyes flash, and you close your mouth.
She shakes her head. "She distracted you. And you let her go," she huffs and bends down to pick up her panties.
You get up and catch her wrist. "Can you tell me what's going on?" You ask, searching her eyes for an answer, but you're an alien and she's the best spy in the world so you're left even more confused.
She opens her mouth for a split second before snapping it shut. She pulls away and puts on a shirt before finally speaking, "I saw the footage."
You frown.
"Didn't know it only takes a little flirting and a pretty face to make you let an enemy go," she hisses through clenched teeth.
Your mouth drops open in shock.
"Are you-" you let out a breathless chuckle at the mere thought before finally getting yourself together, "are you jealous?"
You can hear her jaw grinding, can hear her nails dig into the soft skin of her palm.
And yet, you still can't believe what she just said.
"You're a fucking hypocrite, Natasha," you say, and a split second later you're dressed and out in the nearby field, searing up towards the sky.
You don't see her falling back into the pillow you layed on mere seconds ago, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.
×××
There's a party the next day, and a part of you just wants to hop in your pod and disappear in the depths of space.
Another part of you wants to see Natasha happy and content, basking in the warmth of your arms. You know she'll never allow anyone to know about the two of you, but still, hope blossoms in your chest when you first see her go down the stairs. She moves right past you towards the bar, and you see Banner approach her with a nervous smile. His flirting is awkward and you pity the man, awaiting Natasha's response.
She flirts back.
"So… You and Romanoff?" Steve comes to stand beside you, smiling his fatherly smile, and you fight the urge to run away.
"You should tell her," he presses on, "she's not the most open person in the world, but from what I know about her, I think… there's a good chance for the two of you to be happy."
You've told her.
She doesn't like you back.
You shoot him a quick, awkward smile. "I'll think about it."
He nods, satisfied and walks up to the pair, his eyes widening when he overhears the last bit of their conversation. He winces and looks back at you, knowing you probably heard it all by now.
You shake your head at the concerned look he sends your way, and walk to sit on the couch, closing your eyes for a moment, letting your hearing go wild, listening in on an argument on the other side of the city, anything to remove yourself from this situation. The argument doesn't last too long, the engaged pair making up not even ten minutes later and you move your attention back to the party.
When you open your eyes Thor is sitting beside you, daring Clint to pick up his hammer. You sit up straighter, curious to see where it might go.
"Everyone knows it's some kind of a trick." His fingers wrap around the handle, but the hammer doesn't move an inch, much to the archers embarrassment.
Tony appears seemingly out of nowhere to make fun of Barton and you join in on the laughter, enjoying the rare moment of happiness, momentarily forgetting about your not so fun predicament.
Thor winks at you, enjoying this way more than he probably should, and hands you a bottle of Asgardian beer.
Out of the corner of your eye you see Natasha join your little game, Steve hot on her heels. She looks a little out of place, eyes laced with uncertainty when she sees an empty spot by your side. With a slight push from Steve she sits, careful not to touch you.
Banner is left standing a few feet away.
"It's simple physics," Tony grins, attempting to lift the weapon. His eyes narrow when it stays in its spot.
You rub your eyes when he decides to embarrass himself even further, calling Rhodes for backup and putting on his suit. The ridiculous game goes on, and Steve decides to try, you don't bother to watch, but then you hear metal scraping against the fine wood of the coffee table. Your head snaps up to look at Thor and immediately you know he heard it too, his eyes going comically wide for a split second before closing in relief when Steve doesn't pull harder, letting the hammer stay in its place.
"Natasha?" Banner nudges the redhead.
You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your bear. You want to go and finish the drink in the solitary of your room, maybe let out a few tears, but you promised Thor you'd stay until the very end, knowing he's set to leave in a few short days.
"I don't want to know the answer to that question," she says before taking a sip of her beer.
"Y/n?" Thor invites you to try, but you shake your head no, an excuse already on your tongue when you first hear it.
The screeching is loud enough to hurt humans, but to your enhanced hearing it's pure torture. You fall to the floor, covering your ears, letting out a silent cry and Natasha is by your side immediately, pressing you into her side, trying to ground your hearing. You hiss in pain, your head feels like it's being slit open, and you think Natasha is saying something, but you can't focus on a single thing.
The next second you feel her lips against yours and the sound is gone, replaced by Natashas frantic heartbeat.
"Focus on me, baby, come on," Natasha whispers against your lips, words barely audible. You nod, trying to regain your senses.
Her kisses move lower to your chin, then to your jaw, her fingers skimping under the hem of your shirt, setting the skin of your lower stomach on fire.
"Stay with me, baby," she mumbles in your ear.
There's a fight going on around you, robots flying around destroying everything in sight, but the only thing you see is Natasha's glistening eyes as she pulls away to check on you.
Then she's pulling you up and out of the room, narrowly missing a piece of metal flying her way, your eyes flicker around and you stop in your tracks, ready to join the fight and end it in seconds, but then there's a tug on your hand.
"They'll handle it. Let me take care of you."
You nod, feeling hope blossom in your chest.
Maybe Steve's right.
×××
They handled it and now you're off to Africa, getting ready to fight a villainous robot made of vibranium. The jet is weirdly silent - Tony's sulking in the corner, unusually quiet, Steve stares him down from his seat, jaw grinding in annoyance and you wonder what happened after Natasha led you to her room. You tried to pry away, ready to run back and join on the planning, but she didn't budge, staring you down until you relented and fell against the sheets, her fingers making quick works of your belt buckle.
Now though, she's back to acting like she doesn't care, her eyes trained on the skyline and you can't even pretend you aren't hurt.
"We are close," you warn the team, already searching for the target. Your eyes lock on the pair talking to Ultron. "The twins are there, on the second floor, talking to Ultron. We need to hurry."
Natasha looks at you for the first time since you boarded the jet. "Stay away from the witch. We'll handle her."
You scoff at her tone, mildly pissed at her bossing you around. "You're ordering me around now?" you force through gritted teeth.
Her eyes narrow and she looks like she wants to say more, but Tony pushes her out of the way to jump out of the jet, Thor and Steve following right behind him, and she's left glaring daggers at your back as you hurry along.
You look for the witch the moment you land.
She's easy to find, hiding in the shadows, waiting for a perfect moment to strike, while her brother runs around wrecking havoc.
"Little witch," you call out, startling her enough to make her jump up.
Her eyes flash in annoyance, but the second she sees it's you her lips stretch in a one sided smile. "I have a name, you know."
You nod, your lips stretching into a full blown grin. You remember how your last conversation ended, but you don't care much about the possibility of her hurting you.
"I won't," she says, like she just read your mind.
You suppose she might have, she is a witch after all.
She shakes her head, letting out a huff of laughter, "There's a lot of things I can do," her eyes flash dangerously, her smile now with a hint of malice, "make sure not to cross me." She winks and turns just in time to step out of her brother's way.
You blink, cursing yourself for getting so distracted again, and dart after her brother. It is an easy ordeal, and mere seconds later you have him pinned to the ground.
"You really should let me go," he grunts against the concrete, wiggling against your hold.
"I am an alien, not an idiot," you scoff, easing your hold on him just a little.
He stills for a moment, craning his neck to take a look at you, "An alien?"
His eyes are full of wonder, and suddenly you're reminded that the two of them are young, the same age you were when you first stepped foot on Earth.
You sigh, looking around for a cage of some sort or a piece of metal to bend around the runner.
"Why are you helping them?" He asks, wonder replaced by anger. "Do you know what he did?"
There it is. An old basement with a bulletproof door.
"Making a bomb and launching it at civilians are two very different things, you know?" You quip and his eyes flash in indignation, but before he can start his rant you push him inside, locking the door and bending the metal for a good measure.
"He did some shitty things in the past, but at least he never joined the Nazis."
You walk away, painfully aware of the truth in your words. Now that you've said it out loud you're faced with the fact that the witch you've grown to like just after two short interactions is not a good person.
Shaking your head you make your way up, one down, two to go. You squint in the dark, trying to spot Ultron, but he's nowhere to be found and neither is Tony, so you mentally brace yourself to face the witch again, but the second you step on the landing you see Thor's slumped form.
"Hey!" You shake his shoulders and slap his face for good measure and his eyes open. He's blinking rapidly, like he just woke up from a long nap, his eyes glossed over.
"Y/n!" He whispers feverishly, and pulls you in a bone crushing hug. "You're okay, of course you're okay. That witch. She warped my mind," he pants, pushing you away, "You need to make sure everyone else is okay."
You look him over, and once you're sure he's not hurt you nod, pulling him up to his feet, and take off in the direction of Natasha's heartbeat.
You stop in your tracks as soon as your eyes fall on the trembling woman. Tears stream down her face, but her eyes are focused on the floor, unblinking. She doesn't move when Clint presses her into his side, doesn't flinch when he hauls her up to her feet, but when her eyes register you she jumps as if burned, clutching at Clint.
You take a step closer, your own eyes watering, but she looks like she might throw up if you move any closer.
Clint sends you a look and shakes his head, mouthing, "I've got her."
She limps past you, shaking so violently you're sure even a human can notice.
They move past you and suddenly all you see is red.
Moving faster than the speed of light you have the witch pressed against the wall, her fingers clutched in your vice grip.
She looks up, her eyes wide and terrified.
Good, you think.
"What did you do to her?" You growl in her face, pushing her into the wall with your whole body.
No way you'll let her escape this time.
Her throat constricts. "I- Her biggest fear. I showed her her biggest fear." She sinks her body against the wall, trying to wrangle her hands out of your grip. Her heart is thrumming violently and you can't tell if the tiny skip of a beat is a result of her fear or her lie.
"She'll be fine in a few hours, I swear." Her eyes lock with yours, so unbelievably green, and you feel yourself slipping away. "Just let me go," she asks, pushing her body forwards, her fingers slipping away from your hold. Her face tilts forward until your lips are almost touching. “Let me go,” she whispers. You don't see the wisps of her magic swirl around her fingers, too focused on the way her lips move. Too many thoughts swarm your brain, but you find yourself focusing on one. You want her to close the gap.
"That's right, you want me to kiss you." Her lips almost brush against yours in a gentle peck. Your grip on her weakens completely and you're enveloped in her arms. Suddenly, she's everywhere. In your arms, in your head, in your heart. "I'm sorry about this," she whispers before pushing you off the ledge.
There's red everywhere and you find yourself falling and falling…
…and falling until your back hits the ground with a painful thud.
"Y/n! Get up. Come on." Your father helps you up, tilting your head to check the injury, but you can't focus on his face, all you can see is purple.
The planet under your feet rumbles, splitting open yet again, making your father forget about tending to your bloodied forehead in favor of hauling you up over his shoulder.
"No." You push against his shoulders when you finally realize where he's taking you. "No! I'm staying with you," you cry out, wiping the tears out of your eyes.
The sight in front of you is a nightmare. A sick, deranged nightmare. You can see the man responsible for this hold up the purple stone higher in the air, another powerful wave destroying everything in its wake.
"We have to fight, dad! We have to stop him! What about mom?!" You scream until your throat hurts, but your father doesn't budge, pushing you through double doors leading to the pods.
"We will fight," he promises, putting you down. "But you… you're destined for greatness, my child. You can't die fighting a losing battle." He places a kiss on your temple, pushing a syringe into your side.
You stare at him in betrayal, fighting against him with all your might, but your limbs get too heavy and your eyes start closing on their own.
You're pushed in the pod and your father types coordinates for Asgard. "They'll treat you as their own," he chokes, trying to fight tears, "I love you, my sweet girl."
"Y/n!"
You sit up, gasping for breath, eyes darting around the room.
"Y/n, a little help!"
Tony's voice sounds from your comms and you shudder.
"I can't-" you sob, looking around you, searching for the witch, but she's long gone, and all you can do is sit in the dark and hope someone will come and get you.
"I don't know what you saw there, kid, but our green friend might chew me up any second now. I really need you," he pleads.
Your hands shake and your legs tremble as you stand up, forcing the memory to the back of your mind. You close your eyes, letting the tears fall and tear through the roof, unaware of a pair of eyes watching you leave.
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tuiccim · 4 months
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Pickup Game
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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
Word Count: 3509
Warnings: Flirt, Fluff, Smut, Oral (f rec)
Summary: An after party game of pickup lines leads to a confession and an even more fun night in bed.
A/N: Special thanks to my hype princess & beta reader @whisperlullaby.
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The after party of just Avengers and close friends was in full swing. Drinks and laughter flowed as you enjoyed each other's company.
“Okay, okay. Your best pick up line! Let’s have ‘em!” Clint yells over the most recent spate of laughter. “Tony, whatcha got?”
Tony smirks before opening his arms wide and declaring, “I am Iron Man.” He grins as everyone heckles him, “What can I say? Works every time!”
“Really?” Pepper raises an eyebrow.
“Used to! Used to work,” Tony backpedals. “Rhodey, save me here, buddy!”
“Okay, okay,” Rhodey laughs as he glances at Natasha who is standing by him and tugs at his sleeve, “Feel my shirt. Know what it’s made of? Boyfriend material.”
"Nice," Natasha scoffs.
"Let's hear yours then!" Rhodey huffs.
"Ever had a White Russian?" Natasha asks, holding up her glass.
"No," Rhodey looks at her suspiciously.
"Want to?" She says seductively. 
Rhodey chuckles, "Smooth. Okay, Clint, what've you got?"
Clint bats his eyes at Sam, standing next to him and says, "Well, here I am. What are your other two wishes, big boy?"
Sam laughs while rolling his eyes, "So, what you guys are telling me is that you have no game?"
"Give us your best then, Rocket Man!"
"You know, dating is a numbers game. So, can I have yours?" Sam grins.
"Boooring!" Tony heckles. "Steve, what's your favorite?"
"I've never been good with pickup lines. That was more Bucky's territory," Steve tilts his head towards the dark-haired super soldier. 
"Thanks," Bucky says sarcastically,  "I'm a little out of practice with pickup lines."
"Aw, come on, Buck, give it a shot," you pipe in and then try to hide your embarrassment at having drawn attention to yourself. Even though you hoped he'd test out the line on you. Your attraction to the man was undeniable and you'd harbored a crush since you'd met him. You leaned back against the wall with your hands behind your back and raised your eyebrow in challenge to him. 
Bucky's face betrayed a moment of discomfiture before he straightened his shoulders and stepped over to you. He placed a hand on the wall above you, leaning in with a small smirk, "If I told you you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"
You could hear some chuckling and comments in the background but it faded as you stared up at Bucky. God, he was fine as hell and you were doing your best to control your erratic heartbeat.
"Sorry, doll, that wasn't very good, huh?"
You don't know where the gall came from but, before you realized what you were doing the words slipped out of your mouth. "Don't worry, Buck, I'm not big on being picked up. I prefer to be pinned down." Your eyebrow raised as you said the words and you smirked, bringing your glass to your lips for a sip. 
Bucky's jaw drops as the room erupts in laughter and cheers. Tony crows, "She wins!" 
Clint laughs heartily as he agrees, "Hands down!"
After a few moments, you reach up and close Bucky's mouth, “And to answer your questions, yes, I would,” you whisper with a wink as you walk away. 
A little while later, the party was winding down and you decided it was time to slip out. Your nerves were getting the better of you. Thoughts ran amuck as to what Bucky thought of you and whether the attraction you felt was reciprocated. He’d been in a conversation with some of the guys since the game ended and you hoped to catch a glimpse, some sign of mutual interest but now you were walking away with your tail between your legs. God, what must he think of you and that brazen comment. 
Hitting the button for the elevator, you berate yourself for thinking you ever stood a chance. Your head snapped up when a deep voice whispered, “You know, you have a beautiful body.”
Grinning, you turn and press yourself against Bucky, “Is that so?”
“Yeah,” Bucky smirks at you. Without warning, he stoops and picks you up as if you weigh nothing. 
“Bucky!” You squeal as the elevator doors open. 
He carries you in, hitting the button for his floor with his elbow, “Don’t worry, doll. I know you aren’t big on being picked up but I’ll have you pinned down soon enough.”
You raise your eyebrow at him, “It was just a line, Buck.”
His confidence falters for a second, “Oh, uh-”
“Don’t worry, baby. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” you smirk.
“Oh, you’re naughty,” Bucky laughs.
“I prefer ‘playful’.”
“I like playful,” Bucky adjusts you in his arms so that your back is pressed to the elevator wall and your faces are at the same level. 
You use the opportunity to wrap your legs around him and look at him expectantly. 
“Can I kiss you?” He asks. 
You’re surprised by the request after the way he’d handled you. It warmed your heart that he would seek your consent and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, “Please.”
The kiss is intense. He presses into you as his lips move over yours. His tongue slips out seeking entry and you oblige him immediately. You separate only when the elevator dings your arrival. He lowers your legs gently and takes your hand. Leading you down the hallway, Bucky says awkwardly, “I, uh, was kind of surprised when you, um, said that tonight.” 
“What? The pickup line?” You tilt your head as you look at him. 
“No, the… thing you whispered afterwards.”
“Really, why?” You thought your feelings for him were fairly obvious. 
“I mean, I’m a mess and you’re so put together. I just,” he shrugs, “kinda thought you were out of my league, ya know.”
“No,” you laugh, “no, I don’t know. I have never thought of myself as put together.  Thanks for that but I’m kind of a mess, too. I think we all are in our own ways.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Bucky smiles as he opens his door and guides you in. 
You suddenly feel awkward as you walk inside the room. The passion displayed in the elevator had mellowed as you walked and talked together into a camaraderie. You were unsure how to get back to it. 
“Would you like a drink?” Bucky asks as he comes up behind you, his lips brushing your neck and his hands caress your hips. You jump a little at the unexpected contact. 
“I think I had enough earlier,” you breathe, heat pooling between your legs. 
“I haven’t had enough, I haven’t had nearly enough. I need another taste,” Bucky says as he turns you around to capture your mouth. You oblige him willingly, snaking your arms around his neck as you arch into him. 
Abandoning any reserve you would normally have, you reach for the buttons on his shirt. He reaches for the zipper of your dress but his hands still. You pull back to look at him curiously. 
“You’re sure?” He asks. 
You smile and pull the tails of his shirt from his pants while saying, “Barnes, if you don’t get me naked and pin me down, I will never forgive you.”
He pulls you against him forcefully, grinning as he pulls down your zipper, “We can’t have that.”
Clothes are discarded quickly as he backs you to the bed. Bucky slides his hands into your panties to grab your ass and you gasp when he picks you up. Laying you on the bed he pulls your panties off. You expect him to follow you down but instead his eyes take a slow path up your body. Propping yourself on your elbows, you resist the urge to cover yourself but tremble as he studies you. He smiles, grabs a discarded t-shirt, and rips the bottom half from it. Your eyebrow raises at the display. 
“And what do you plan to do with that, Sgt. Barnes?”
His smirk as he advances has butterflies dancing in your stomach. He grabs your arms, twists the shirt around your wrists, and hauls them above your head as he pins you to the bed. 
“Happy now?” Bucky rumbles as he kisses your neck. 
“Almost. I’d like these off,” you use your legs to pull at the underwear he still has on, “and an orgasm or two would be nice.” 
Holy shit, you don’t know where this confidence had come from. Maybe because Bucky wanted you. Maybe because of whatever drink that was that Natasha had handed you. Whatever it was, you were enjoying the results. 
“Only one or two?” Bucky teases as he nibbles along your clavicle. “I bet I can do better.”
“Is that so?” You gasp as his tongue plays over your nipple. 
“Mm-hm,” he murmurs before plucking at your other nipple with his lips. He lets go of your hands that are still bound above your head as he slides his tongue down your stomach. Your breathing picks up when he reaches your navel and proceeds to kiss his way down to your mound. Your eyes screw shut to take in every sensation. When he spreads your legs further apart, you feel the contrast of warm skin and cool metal on your thighs. Anticipation builds, making you lick your lips and you can’t help the whimper that slips out when you feel a gentle finger trace your slit. 
“Fuck,” Bucky whispers reverently before his tongue follows the same path as his fingers. His metal arm curls around your leg and he rests his hand on your abdomen, effectively holding you in place as he explores your folds. It was almost unbearable, the way his tongue slid around to touch everywhere but where you needed him most. 
“Bucky, please,” you whimper desperately. 
His chuckle rumbles against your core. His fingers replace his tongue, taking the same lazy path. “Poor baby, am I not giving you what you want?” His finger tip barely grazes your clit and you whine. “Are you feeling needy?” His finger circles your entrance and his tongue gives the softest lick to your clit. Your hips flex, desperate for more friction, making Bucky press his metal hand more firmly against you. “I like seeing you like this.” Another small lick to your clit. “Wet, under me, and so desperate.”
“Bucky, pleeeaase,” you can’t keep the whine out of your voice. You don’t think you’ve ever been quite so turned on and the teasing was making you a writhing mess. 
“Say please again and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”
“Please!” the word rushes out of you. His fingers and tongue driving you mad. 
His tongue moves slowly, lapping back and forth over your clit while his finger still teases. It’s maddeningly delicious but not enough at the same time. He holds your hips hostage, not allowing you to move. You mewl with each motion of his tongue over you, your body on fire and screaming for just a little more until your mouth opens to plead, “More! Oh, god, I need more!”
Bucky lifts his head, a devilish smirk across his mouth, “Oh, precious, you didn’t say please. We’ll have to start all over again now.” His finger goes back to tracing the slow path over your cunt. 
“What?” You gape at him as he plays with you. 
“You didn’t say please, doll,” Bucky repeats, allowing his lips to brush over your thigh, far too far from where you wanted his lips. 
You felt like crying. You felt like screaming. You felt like ripping off your bindings, flipping him over, and riding his face until you came all over it. Unfortunately, you knew you’d never overpower him and, if you were really honest with yourself, this little game he was playing was hot as fuck. You’d never been treated like this and he had made you a gushing mess. 
“I’m sorry, Bucky. Please, please, I need more,” you whimper at him with doe eyes, hoping for a reprieve. 
“You need more, precious?” Bucky’s finger grazes lightly over your clit. 
“Oh, please!” Your hips try to buck against his hold but he merely chuckles as he holds you in place easily. His finger circles your clit slowly as his tongue takes a meandering path up your thigh.
“Please, baby, please!” You whine as he makes his way back to your apex and are rewarded when his tongue takes the place of his finger. His motions are still slow and deliberate while his finger brushes over your entrance again causing you to clench around nothing. Desperate for more, you start to say the one word you know will earn you some relief, “Plea- OOH!!!-” In the middle of your plea, his finger had entered you and he sucked on your clit suddenly. “Yes, fuck, please, please, please…,” the word became your only mantra as he fucked you with fingers and tongue. Your legs began to shake and then he curled his fingers into that perfect spot, making bright white flash before your eyes and a scream rend from your throat. You came hard, your muscles clenching. Your legs try to close but Bucky’s broad shoulders between them keep you open to him. He laps at you through the aftershocks.  
“Fuck, I could stay here for days,” Bucky groaned. His fingers curled slowly as his tongue made gentle licks.
You gasped and moaned, words and thoughts hard to come by in the haze. “Bucky,” you finally manage to whisper his name as if it was the sweetest endearment. 
“I know. I know, doll. Don’t worry, I’m not done yet,” his mouth nuzzled you as he said the words. Flicks of his tongue came closer together, “I need another one from you, precious. Gotta hear you make those sweet sounds again.” 
“Bucky, oh, fuck. Please, it’s so good,” you gasp the words out, nearly overstimulated and yet still desperate for his touch. 
“You know how hard I am hearing you say that?” Bucky groans against your clit, vibrations coursing through you. His tongue begins moving faster, making swift circles. 
“I… I- fuck. Please,” you stutter, unable to form sentences anymore. Bucky’s fingers curl more firmly into that spongy spot inside and your back tries to arch despite his arm holding you firmly in place. He was moving his tongue as if his sole purpose in life was to make you fly into a million pieces. You were a whimpering mess, unable to form words and so close to the edge again. When he growled against you again, your eyes flew open and you looked down your body at him. His cobalt eyes met yours and the intensity in his gaze was a hit straight to your core. Your muscles began to spasm as you watched him, so focused on your pleasure and aroused by your responses. Your scream is stifled by the overwhelming intensity of the orgasm that rips through you. Your hands flex around the bonds that hold them in place. 
As Bucky kisses his way back up your body, you manage to come back to yourself… mostly. You wanted to touch him, to hold him against you, to run your hands over his body. You attempt to untwist your hands from the scrap of t-shirt but the deceptively loose looking knot doesn’t budge. 
“Bucky, baby, please can you untie me?” You whisper. 
Bucky had paused at your breasts to show them some attention. They were deserving of the most reverent of worship in his mind. His tongue traced your nipple before he spoke, “Why? I’ve got you tied up, pinned down, and perfectly on display for me.”
“I want to touch you, please,” you gasp as he takes your nipple into his mouth to gently suckle. 
“Hmm,” he muses as he makes his way to your other breast, giving it the same loving attention. “If you’ll answer a question for me.”
“Anything,” you sigh, enjoying each motion of his mouth over you. You feel the rumble of his chuckle at your quick response.
“How long?” He asks. 
You slide your leg to brush against his cock, still covered by his boxer briefs before saying cheekily, “I didn’t bring a measuring tape with me but I’d say more than adequate.”
Bucky lets out a small moan at the contact and then chuckles, “Not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean, baby?”
“How long did I waste not having you in my bed?” Bucky asks as he brings his face level to yours. 
“You mean, how long have I wanted you or are you asking how long I’ve liked you?”
“Both,” Bucky narrows his eyes but gives you a small smile. 
“If I’m really honest, I’ve always wanted you. You’re kinda hot, ya know?” You smile and bite your lip. 
“And the other?” Bucky asks, flexing his hips into you so that his hard cock nestles between your legs. 
You gasp and arch into him, “About five minutes after meeting you.”
“Seriously, when?” Bucky scoffs gently. 
“You were so sweet and a little self-conscious and I just adored you,” you nudged his nose with yours, encouraging his lips to find yours. He kissed you, long and lovingly, while he released your hands. You both seemed to settle into each other as your hands explored, finally free. The heat began to return, hips flexing into each other, craving the friction, but before things got too carried away, you cradled Bucky’s face in your hands and forced him to look at you. “How long?” You repeat his question. 
“Always,” he whispers passionately before taking your mouth again. 
It was all you needed. You reached for the band of his underwear, wanting nothing left to separate you. You managed to get the offending garment off of him and circle his cock with your hand. He takes a sharp intake of breath and then groans. Definitely more than adequate, you think to yourself. 
“Doll,” Bucky presses his forehead to yours, “I need to be inside you.”
“Oh, precious, you didn’t say please,” you tease him, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick. Your core aches to be filled but you can’t resist the chance to tease him just a bit as he’d done to you earlier. 
Bucky chuckles, “Knew I should have kept you tied up.”
You rub the head of his cock over your clit and whimper loudly in his ear, “I still haven’t heard it.” You pump him in your hand but still won’t let him slip into you despite his attempts to maneuver his hips. 
“Fuuuuck, please!” Buchy growls, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. 
You waste no time lining him up with your entrance. He presses in a few agonizingly slow inches before grabbing your hands and hauling them above your head. He stares into you as he growls out, “I should pin you down,” he sinks in a little more, “and tease you mercilessly.” His hips slide slowly forward until he’s fully seated inside of you. “But I don’t think either of us would survive it right now.” He slides out a couple of inches before snapping his hips forward, taking your breath away. He sets a slow but driving pace, staring into your eyes as he fucks you. His hands slide down to hold your face and he kisses you fiercely, his thrusts coming a little faster as he does. You wrap your arms around his chest, pulling him to you, sliding one down to grab onto his ass. You encourage every movement, the drag of his cock tipping you closer to the precipice. 
He buries his face in your neck, whispering praises and encouragement, “Shit, you’re squeezing me so tight, doll.”
“Bucky, fuck, I’m gonna-,” your breath catches as you fall over the edge. Your body sings as you come, trembling and moaning with each wave. 
“You’re so fucking pretty, doll. So fucking pretty,” Bucky grits out as you clench around him. It only takes a few more sloppy thrusts for him to lose himself inside you. His hips flex with each aftershock that hits him. 
Rolling to his side, Bucky pulls you against him. You nuzzle his chest as you both catch your breath. Despite the lethargy settling over both of you, Bucky's hands wander continuously over your skin and you bask in the attention. 
“You'll stay, won't you?” Bucky whispers.
“I don't know,” you say sleepily, “Do you hog the covers?”
Bucky chuckles, “I'm pretty good at sharing.”
“Mmm, then I'll stay,” you yawn and a little giggle escapes you.
“What?” Bucky smiles at your mirth-filled eyes. 
“That's the first time a cheesy pick up line ever worked on me,” you giggle again.
“I'll have to come up with some others. See if I get lucky again,” Bucky laughs as he kisses the top of your head.
“I'd say your chances are pretty good,” you smirk at him, “But maybe next time, I should be the one to pin you down.”
“Only if you say please, doll.”
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1K notes · View notes
iamasaddie · 3 months
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cracks
paring: Clint x f!reader warnings: no smut (sorry), ER; age gap (not specified), insecurities regarding aging word count: 700~ a/n: gonna be honest with you I mostly wrote it for me, but I'll be happy if you enjoy it too <3 i have an idea for another blurb (smutty) from this “universe” that i might post tonight or tomorrow masterlist
You knew he didn’t like looking in the mirror. Didn’t enjoy seeing his reflection on any surface, especially when you were near him. You had to beg him for a picture of you together, and if you wanted to capture just him you had to be sneaky enough so he wouldn’t notice.
You knew it was lines on his forehead, the scar beneath his left eye, the multiplying grays in his beard that he couldn’t stand. Everything that reminded him of how old he was, how deep the canyon of experience between you was. Every little thing you loved him for made him scowl and furrowed his brows. 
It pained you, but you made sure to remind him how handsome he was, how safe and loved you felt in his big dry palms. He grunted in response. You would’ve been scared that he’d eventually leave you when his demons would win, but you knew the feelings you had for each other were too strong, an uncontrollable tide breaking every rational and irrational thought on its way. 
He fell asleep with his head in your lap while you were watching one of the old westerns he loved so much. His soft hair tickling the naked skin of your thighs, his brows knitted together even as he was lightly snoring, indicating the depth of his dream. Your fingers raked through the soft curls and when the credits started rolling you realized that you have been looking at Clint for the last fifteen minutes, completely ignoring the climax of the story. 
The man in your arms was a more interesting one anyway. 
Your index finger lightly traced his face. You marveled at each crease and mark, mapping the years of laughter and hardship etched into his features. You felt valleys of his laugh lines hiding into the coarse  beard that covered the lower half of his face in an uneven pattern you loved so much. With the softest press of your fingertip you grazed over the plumpness of his lips, and you smiled to yourself at the softness of the skin. Rough man that he was, Clint was kissing your chapstick covered lips often enough for it to take care of his own. 
Gently, you scratched the almost white patch on the side of his face, the most prominent one he had. Sometimes when he noticed you staring at him - for no other reason but being completely and utterly in love with him - he would turn his head as if he wanted to hide the colorless spot. 
Tears burned the edges of your eyes and you blinked them away before they could wet your cheeks. The love you felt for the man who was snoring peacefully almost tore you apart. You wished that he could genuinely believe in your affection. That you cherished the cracks and imperfections that made Clint real to you, the unique mosaic of a man who was only solvable to you, remaining a dark riddle for the rest of the world.
He stirred at your touch, his lips curving into a faint smile. His eyes fluttered open.
“What are you doing?” His voice was raspy with sleep, one eye squinting as the other focused on the outline of your form.
“Counting the reasons why I’m the luckiest girl in the world,” you whispered back, crouching to peck his lips, but missing and hitting his nose instead, making him chuckle.
“Got at least three?” His hand went up, cupping your jaw and he met your eyes. You could see the worry and uncertainty hiding behind the forced merriment of his voice. It made your heart ache, but you knew you had time to make him see through your eyes.
 “Multiply it by infinity, and you’ll get my answer.” You saw the furrow of his brows disappear, like he was surprised to hear that, and you hurried to kiss him, smiling at his content moan.
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check out my other fic from this universe CONTACTS (can be read as a continuation to this one)
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musings-of-a-rose · 3 months
Text
Clint (Freaky Tales) Masterlist
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*=indicates smut or eventual smut (see fic warnings for details)
One Shots:
A New Life*
Series Masterlists:
Coming Soon
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nicoline1998enilocin · 10 months
Note
Could you do an imagine with Steve rogers and yn where he takes her virginity smooth talk to her into it and she comes to shield quarters to drop off some stuff he left over and she over hears him talking to tony,Buck & the avengers a both the bet they made that Steve couldn’t f*ck yn and she gets heartbroken and uses her superpowers to fight against Steve when she barges in. Like throw him into a wall. I hope you get my concept (btw yn has powers also & she’s new to the shield inc as an avenger)
Betrayed
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PAIRING | Steve Rogers x Avenger!Female!Reader
WORD COUNT | 2.7K
SUMMARY | You're the latest addition to the Avengers, and Steve takes on a bet behind your back that he wouldn't be able to take your virginity. When you find out about the bet a few weeks later, you lose it and your superpowers rise to their full potential.
WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Steve being an asshole, swearing, smut [ loss of virginity, fingering, protected sex, massage turned to sex, light spanking ]
A/N | Hi nonnie, thank you so much for my very first request, I hope this is what you were looking for when you thought of the prompt! After all the love and many people requesting a part 2, I finally caved and you can find that right here! 🖤
Likes and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜
Main Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist
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It has been a dream of yours ever since being recruited by SHIELD as an agent, to climb the ranks to becoming part of the Avengers. That dream finally became a reality and you were ecstatic when you found out you were accepted into the Avengers program. Right from the start all of the Avengers welcomed you with open arms, and you felt at home immediately, maybe a bit too much if you look back at it. During one of Tony's afterparties, you accidentally let it slip that you're still a virgin and that you wish you weren't anymore. There are some strange looks shared between some of the guys at your confession, but you decided to let it go at that time. Right now, however, you wish you hadn't.
After you went to bed that night, some of the guys got into a heated discussion about the fact that you're a virgin, and they all wanted to help you out. You know you're quite attractive - nothing over the top, but you take good care of yourself and it shows - so the fact that they all wanted to sleep with you wasn't much of a surprise. The fact that it was Steve who offered to do it first, did surprise every single one of the guys. ''No way you're taking her virginity, Cap. You have the sex appeal of a piece of grass,'' Clint remarked, which earned him a glare that wasn't all that nice. ''I think we should make a bet,'' Steve said, a mischievous look in his eyes.
''I want to make a bet if I can do it or not. If I win, I won't have to go on missions for a month. If you guys win, I will take one mission of your hands of your choice, each,'' Steve offered and they immediately agreed to these terms. And that is how Steve tried to talk you into his bed, which took more effort than he had anticipated, you weren't as easy as you made yourself sound that night. It took him a little over 5 months, but eventually, his hard work and patience paid off, for him at least.
~ 5 months later ~
You just went on a gruesome mission with all of the Avengers, and it was already late so instead of flying home now, all of you went to a hotel and spend the night. You had been incredibly frustrated for a while, and this mission was too much at this point. The mission ended up being successful, but Steve was being an asshole towards you the entire time, all to get under your skin for his gain, with the bet still in his mind. All the other Avengers quickly teamed up with the rooms, so your only option was to share a room with Steve, and you weren't happy with that. In the slightest.
''Guys, can any one of you please switch with me? I can't look at his face right now and I want to smack that smug grin of his fucking face,'' you say through gritted teeth, but they aren't helping one bit. ''Sorry doll, we always have the same sleeping arrangements and Steve usually sleeps alone, so you don't have a choice,'' Bucky said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. ''You guys are unbelievable,'' you said and you opened the door to your shared bedroom, rushing in to get away from all of them.
''Don't mind them,'' Steve said when he followed you and you let yourself fall on your back on the bed. ''Maybe it's a good thing you and I are sharing a bedroom tonight, I had a plan to get both of our frustrations out of our systems,'' Steve said with an innocent look in his eyes. ''You do...?'' you ask him, unsure where he's going with this. ''Yeah, I find that a massage works well, get someone to rub all my frustrations away. I brought some massage oil that I could use on you if you want,'' he offered, and you were thinking about it. ''I'm gonna take a shower first though, I don't want to be disgusting when you massage me,'' you said.
When you were in the shower, Steve texted the guys' group chat that his plan would work, you agreed to a massage and he would most definitely be able to turn it around so he could fuck your brains out later that night. When you came back from your shower, you put your hair in a claw clip so it would be out of the way, and you noticed Steve already prepared his bed to be used as the massage 'table'. ''Please, lay down without the towel so I can reach your entire back with ease,'' he said with a small grin on his face, but you did it. You needed a way to get this frustration out of your body, and it was worth a shot. ''Lay down for me, baby,'' he said and you didn't even think twice about the nickname he gave you.
You did as he said and made yourself comfortable. ''No towel baby, that was it's easier for me to reach everywhere,'' Steve said and because you're lying on your stomach, you can't see the smug look he has on his face. He took the towel away and softly gasped at the sight of you, you were even more beautiful than he thought you'd be and he was very happy he got to do this. He put a little bit of the massage oil on your back and his hands before he started, rubbing it all over your shoulders and back first, just grazing your cheeks when he's rubbing it over your lower back, teasing you ever so slightly. After it's nice and spread out he starts putting some pressure and you let out a soft moan at the feeling.
''Mmh Steve, feels good,'' you softly moan and he smiles at the way you praise him, happy he can make you feel that good. ''Are you feeling better yet, baby?'' he asked and you nodded, letting out a content sigh. The fact that you're completely naked is long forgotten, you were very comfortable around Steve now with his hands running over your body like that. ''Got some more pressure points in my lower back you could massage,'' you tell him, it's always been a point that's bothering you and now that he was massaging you, it was the perfect timing to get help. ''Like this?'' he said as he put a bit more pressure on your lower back with his palms, moving from your spine outwards and down to your hips. This makes you groan, and in all honesty, a little turned on too.
When he's taken good care of your shoulders and back, he moves on to your calves and thighs. ''Time for these beautiful legs,'' he says as he silently takes off his shirt and pants, they were getting more and more uncomfortable now that he was getting pretty hard from just massaging you. He was standing in his boxer briefs and you didn't notice, completely taken over by pure bliss. He dripped a little oil on both your legs, stopping right beneath your cheeks and he put it to the side, ready for later. He started massaging at your ankles and slowly work his way up to your thighs, giving special attention to the tops, near your ass. His fingers slowly move up and when he's kneading and rubbing your ass, you let out a gasp which turns into a moan.
''S-Steve...'' you say but he quickly cuts you off, ''Shh, it's okay baby, this is normal,'' he says and he starts kneading more roughly, even going as far as landing a slap on both your cheeks at the same time, watching them ripple under his hands. ''Fuck, doing so good for me, baby,'' Steve praised you and you couldn't help but enjoy it, even though you knew in the back of your head it was still wrong. It was at that moment Steve couldn't take it any longer, and his hand wandered down between your thighs, cupping your dripping pussy. ''Hm, you're already dripping wet baby, 'm gonna take good care of you,'' he says as he slowly slides his fingers through your folds, giving special attention to your clit with his middle finger. You moan loudly at the feeling, your ass automatically lifting in the air at the feeling.
''Such a good girl for me right now, letting me take good care of you,'' he praised you and you started clenching around nothing. ''Steve, please,'' you whimpered, you wanted to feel his fingers inside you by now. ''What is it, baby? What do you need from me? Just say it and I'll do it,'' he says, whispering the words in your ear as he pushes your thighs further apart for better access. ''Need you, need your fingers inside me,'' you said shyly and he happily complied, immediately shoving 2 fingers deep inside your dripping entrance without warning. This makes you gasp loudly and grind your hips against his hand. ''How does it feel baby?'' Steve asks with a huge grin on his face while picking up his pace and curling his fingers so he can continue to stimulate your sweet spot.
''G-good, gonna cum,'' you moan as you keep grinding against his fingers. He uses his other hand to play some more with your clit and before you know it, you feel your orgasm wash over you while you moan out his name loudly. ''Yes, let everyone know who's making you feel this good baby,'' he said, knowing full well all the guys could hear what you were doing through the tins walls of the hotel. ''Fuck, feels so good,'' you say as you come down from your high. Steve pulls his fingers softly out of you before turning you over on your back, so he could massage the front of your body. He started with your legs, giving them the same treatment as when he massaged the back of your legs, but avoiding your sensitive pussy this time.
Next up is your stomach, which he drips some oil onto before massaging it deeply, so you let out soft whimpers, especially when his hands' ghost over the underside of your breasts, which were beautifully exposed for his viewing pleasure, your nipples still hard after your first orgasm. ''Those breasts look delicious baby,'' Steve cooed and it made you giggle a little bit before he softly grabbed them and massaged them, giving extra attention to your sensitive nipples. He noticed every single whine, whimper, and moan coming out of you when he played with them, either by rubbing, tugging, or softly flicking them, and he was reveling in the sounds that left your lips.
He finished with your upper chest and neck before leaning down and softly kissing you, which you have been longing for this entire time. He wasn't your first kiss, but he was by far the best you ever had, and you didn't hesitate when he slipped his soft, warm tongue in your mouth to explore every single inch of it. He sat down on the bed and removed his underwear, exposing his painfully hard cock, which was laying on your thigh as he took his place between your legs. ''Steve, condom please,'' you said. You were on birth control and this was your first time, but you weren't sure where he had been and didn't want to risk either getting pregnant or an STD, but Steve didn't mind, he always used one anyways.
He grabbed one from the nightstand - thank god he came prepared - and ripped open the foil before rolling it onto his hard length. ''Are you ready baby?'' he asked and you said yes, giving him a soft smile too. ''Need you inside me,'' you said and without a second to think about it, Steve was pushing himself into your entrance, the burning sensation quickly subsiding and making way for pleasure. He is very big and a lot to get used to, but in no time he was buried inside you completely, letting you get used to the sensation as he bent over, stealing soft kisses from your lips. ''Steve, please move,'' you beg softly and he does, going slow at first but slowly picking up the pace, making you moan louder every single time.
Sure, he may be doing this for a bet, but he was still mindful of the fact that this is your very first time, and he did want to give you the pleasure you deserve, and not go too rough at first. ''Steve, harder'' you beg, and with that, he quickly picks up the pace as you wrap your legs around his waist, so he can hit the deepest spots inside you. ''F-fuck, Steve, gonna cum-'' you practically yelled when your orgasm washed over you again, making your vision go temporarily black with the intensity of it, Steve followed quickly after with the chant of your name, and he buries his face in your neck as he spills his cum inside of the condom. ''Fuck, feels so good around me baby, such a good girl for me,'' he says before pulling out. The rest of the night is spent lazily making out and cuddling, before falling asleep in each other's arms.
~ 3 weeks after the mission ~
You and Steve talked about what happened that night and both agreed nothing more would come of it, it was just a one-time thing to get both your frustrations out and you would remain friends. He talked to the guys about it and they all heard, clapping him on his back and saying he won the bet fair and square, so they would pick up his missions for the next month. ''How was it?'' Tony asked and he told them all about the massage and how it felt to be buried balls deep inside you. They were still talking about the bet when you happened to walk into the room since you accidentally left some files in the living room you needed to prepare.
''Good job Steve, you won the bet fair and square, I didn't think you would fuck her but you earned it'' Bucky said as he got up, and immediately you realize they're talking about you. ''What bet are you guys talking about?'' you ask, and all the guys' heads snap in your direction. ''Y/N, hey...'' Steve said, his face becoming bright red. ''Did you guys seriously bet on if he was able to fuck me? You guys are fucking unbelievable,'' you snarled at each of them, but you're the most mad at Steve. ''You're such a dick, Steve, you know that?'' you yelled at him and you felt your powers come out, usually you tried to keep them hidden since they could cause quite a lot of destruction. ''Using me for a fucking bet?!'' is the last thing you said before you lifted Steve off his chair with your mind, using your telekinesis.
You slam him into the wall on the other side of the living room with your full force, making him go through it like the wall was made of a thin sheet of paper. ''Don't ever fuck with me like that again, or he won't be the only one on the receiving end of my powers,'' you say to the rest of the guys, and they quickly scramble away. To make Steve hurt even more, you walked over to him and made him squirm by giving him a head-splitting headache with your mind, as he grabbed his head to stop it. ''Y/N PLEASE STOP!'' he begged you, but you didn't. You want him to hurt just as much as you were. ''Oh no Rogers, you don't get to beg now, you earned everything I'm going to do with you,” Your power got out of hand and when Wanda walked into the living room, she managed to snap you out of it at the right time, if she didn't you would've killed him.
And just like that, your dream of becoming an Avenger is completely shattered.
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islayhawkin · 3 months
Text
Let me take care of you
Newt x f!reader (clint x jeff mentioned- if you don't ship it just ignore it lol)
2,8k
Summery: newt accidentally overhears you talking about liking him but he thinks you were talking about minho
Request: Hello can you do a newt x fem!reader when the reader is a medjack and talk about (I forget if it’s Clint or Jeff) how she is love with him but she didn’t realize he was behind her ? Please
Misunderstandings; hurt/comfort, angst
A/N: okay this escalated pretty quick into angst whoops
Can be read as a part 2 of 'let me help you'
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It was a usual morning in the glade. The runners were getting ready to start their rounds. Alby started to wake everyone up and frypan made breakfest ready.
You and jeff on the other hand were already in the med-hut to check up on a slicer who almost got his arm chopped off yesterday. Jeff held his fingers to the boys neck.
"He's still alive."
You hummed in relief.
"Lost much blood?"
You collected the things to change the bandage on the young boys arm.
"Nah seems pretty good."
You handed jeff a container of warmed up water and a cloth. "Thanks" jeff muttered as he began removing the blood soaked bandage from the arm. You sat down next to the bed and gave jeff a helping hand whenever he needed.
"How are things with clint?" You gave Jeff a teasing grin. Jeff sighed.
"There are no 'things' between me and clint." But he gave up long ago to deny it convincingly in front of you.
"You looked shucking cute cuddled up yesterday evening." You grinned as you took the dirty cloth and water bowl from him.
Jeff scoffed. "Oh yeah what about you lovebirds then? I'm pretty sure you two were the ones cuddled up. Half the glade was probably jealous." He took the new bandage from your hand. A blush coated your cheeks but you smiled softly at the memory. "Yeah we were quite close yesterday."
You realised that the boy jeff was currently treating was still fast asleep. "Nothing wakes him up does it?" You pointed to him.
Jeff chuckled. "He sleeps like a rock. But don't try to distract me. I'm telling you, you need to ask him out."
"Because you're the expert in that?" You raised your brow.
Jeff rolled his eyes and sat down too after finishing the bandage. "No. Because it is so clearly obvious to everyone. Do you know why the boys don't try anything anymore with you?"
You blinked confused. "No...?" "Newt threatens them. They're afraid they'll be banished or beaten to a pulp if they try something with you."
You were speachless for a moment. "What...? No newt doesn't do that... I know he's protective. That's why they set up the rules but he never uses violence."
"Well he does when you are involved. You remember how gally was brought in with a bashed in face? That was newt. Gally, as gally is, apperently said a lot of disrespectful stuff about you which he could not tolerate."
Your heart beat a bit faster. Newt did this for you? You knew newt avoided violence and stuck to order as much as he was capable off. And that he completely neglected these believes as soon as you were involved was weirdly...sweet.
"So I'm telling you- he cares about you very deeply. Almost concerningly so. And everyone of the boys is aware how you two look at eachother."
You couldn't contain your bright smile. "I never knew that. That is very sweet." You sighed dreamily. "He's just so adorable."
Jeff laughed quietly. "I tell you he's beaten someone up and you call him adorable?"
You glare at him with a pout. "You know that's not what I mean. He's just- so handsome. Even when his hair is touseled of sweat at the end of the day. I don't know how he does it. I could listen to his voice all day too. Every time I see him I just want to squeeze him out of excitment."
"I'm sure he is." Jeff muttered with a grin.
"He always looks out for everyone and rather neglects his own needs than others. I'd rather he wouldn't but I like that about him. He also has everything in control. I mean alby is the leader but he's the leader in the background. He always notices when something is wrong and asks about it. When he laughs he has these really cute crinkles on his nose. Sorry I'm rambling."
Jeff leaned forward. "Then do something about it. Honestly in the eyes of everyone you're already-"
Newt cleared his throat as he stood awkwardly in the doorway of the med-hut. He had walked in a minute ago and heard you talking about someone. At first he thought you might actually be talking about him but his self-consciousness told him you were probably talking about minho. You two always were so close. Minho was a phisical guy. He was muscular. Had great humor. Of course newt understood why you'd fall for minho. After all it was his best friend. But it still stung. A lot.
Newt didn't mean to eavesdrop but he couldn't really find a good moment to interrupt until he couldn't stand hearing more.
His face showed a friendly expression but his eyes wouldn't meet your face.
You on the other hand were turning around to look at newt with wide eyes. You didn't know how long he stood there. How much he heard. If he even heard anything so you tried to slow your heartbeat and act normally.
Jeff glanced between you two as if he was watching a very interesting story unfold before his eyes.
"I uh. I need to get some supplies for the runners. They're about to start. But maybe you'd like to bring it yourself to minho?"His eyes were lowered to the ground.
"Yes of course. No problem." You hastily stood up and collected the small supplies for the runners. As soon as you finished speaking newt was already gone again.
You stilled as you realised this and turned to jeff with wide eyes. "Do you think he heard?"
"He heard something."
"Why did he storm off then?"
Jeff raised his shoulders. "You should probably go talk to him."
***
You did try and talk to him but after the encounter Newts behavior changed. He clearly tried to avoid you. He was a lot more in his room. Even locked up so alby couldn't get in to sleep. He almost worked aggressively hard as a track-hoe. Not stopping to work at dinner time and starting to work before the others were even up.
The others noticed too of course. Newt was the glue after all. Without Newts full help the glade got into a more chaotic state. Alby needed to scream around a lot more. He even seemed to be angry at newt for acting this way.
He didn't come to the med-hut anymore. Neither for his limp nor to pick you up for sleep.
For you and frankly everybody else it was a unreasonable change of behavior. You knew the things he overheard in the med-hut were the trigger for this but you could not fathom why he'd be so distraught because of it.
But to Newt it was perfectly reasonable. You were in love with minho and the latter obviously in love with you. The whole glade seemed to be. You were the only girl. What chance did he have.Newt saw it clearly. You always were with minho. Sometimes even disapearing with him into the woods. He didn't even want to think about what you did. You always kissed minhos cheek. Hugged him a lot. Minho always flirted with you.
And it was even worse that minho was his best friend. He loved minho dearly. They've been through everything together. And he couldn't bare the thought of losing you both when you two were so close.
This reaction to the pain he felt in his chest may have seemed overdramatic to a outsider but to newt it wasn't only about 'not getting a chance with you'. It made him realise that the love he felt for you, the hope you gave him, was all in his head. He needed your love. Desperately. And he didn't know how to cope without it again.
This worried you. A lot.The behavior reminded you of the time after his incident. How you first got to know him after waking up in the glade. He seemed broken then and he did now.It made you realise that nothing really changed about newt. He was still that small kid that you first met.
What worried you even more was his self-harming behavior. Not taking any consideration about the state of his body.
He didn't stop working even when alby told him to. Sometimes he didn't show up for dinner because of it. You always took a extra ration from frypan and brought it up to his room.
You knocked softly on the locked wooden door. "Newt?" There was no answer. "Newt I brought you dinner. You need to eat something."
Silence.
You almost layed the plate down in front of the door again when the door opened a bit.
Newt couldn't help but take that glimpse of your care.
You gave him a smile. "Hey." You held the plate out in front of you. "Here. You missed dinner."
Newt took the plate from your hands hesitantely and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Thanks."
Before he could close the door again you held the door open with your foot. "Newt what's wrong? I know I've been asking this constantly the last few days but I worry about you. The whole glade does. You're not acting like yourself." Your voice was soft.
He shrugged carelessly. "Maybe I just have my period." He tried to joke. You were glad he attempted a joke again. But you also knew it was his way of distracting of the matter at hand.
You gave him a look. "We both know that is not the reason."
Newt sighed. "There is nothing wrong. I'd like to sleep."
You scanned his face desperate for a answer. "Is all this about what you heard me talking about?"
Newt froze up. "I never heard anythin'. Good night." He closed the door and locked it. He leaned his back against the door and took deep breaths. Blinking away tears.The situation didn't stop him from defending you though. On the contrary. He got more angry. More irretable. The usual calm and collected newt was overcome with a more emotional one.
Minho and alby gave you a explicit instruction to get throught to him at breakfast table that morning.
And you were determined to do so today. This has been going on for a few days too long for your liking. When you made your way over to the gardens in search of him the sign you were met with made a stabbing pain in your heart. Newt was working in the garden as usual. Pulling vegatables out, getting new fertilizer, sowing new ones. You normally loved watching him work. But today the pain was evident on his face. His limp finally catching up with the pressure he was constantly putting on it. You saw him stumble a few times but he pushed through obviously.
Until he just...collapsed. His leg gave out under him. You could see him staying layed on the ground. His face on the earth. Exhausted. Suddenly his lanky frame you oh so loved looked a bit too skinny for your liking.
You hurriedly made your way over to him. When he noticed you he tried to scramble up fastly which only made his limp buckle under his weight again. He cursed under his breath.You kneeled down beside him and gripped his arm and a hand around his waist. "Shuck newt. What are you doing..."
"I'm fine. I'm fi-" he struggled to get up again with the few strength he had left.
You pulled him down against you by the waist again. "Stop it." There was a plea in your voice. "Stop it newt. You're hurting yourself."
He still struggled against your hold. "Let go. There is nothing...wrong" his voice cracked.
You didn't let him go. He turned his head away from you as a tear rolled down his cheek and he started to shake slightly.
Everything hurt him. His body. His mind. Only your soft touch gave him comfort.
"Shh." You turned his head to you gently. He didn't meet your eye but you could see in them the pain he was in. You wiped the tear away with your thumb.
"Come on. I'll take care of you." You stroked a dirty strand of hair out of his face and helped him stand up. A lot of his weight leaned on you as you led him into the med-hut. Clint looked up startled when he saw you carry a half limp newt in.
"Out." You ordered him but added a thankful smile.
Clint nodded with a glance at newt and scrambled out of the hut. Newt let himself fall down onto a bed. You took a blanket and tucked him into it, started to boil water on the fire and pushed another pillow under his head.
"I will be right back. Don't go anywhere." Newt watched how you gave him a sweet smile and made your way outside again.You came back with a bowl of food and a bottle of water, shut the door to the med-hut to build as much privacy as possible.
You sat yourself down on the side of his bed and showed him your loot. "What do you want?" A loving smile thrown his way.
"Carrot" he cracked out.
You put the rest of the food aside and handed him the carrot. He moved up to rest his back against the wall and hesitantely began to eat the carrot under your careful watch. The silence engulfed the room for a while only the cracks of the carrot being heard.
You made a heating pad with the boiling water meanwhile and pulled the leg of newts trousers up to gently lay the warm pad onto his throbbing knee.
You did what you always did. Care for him. Take care of him. He had missed this terribly. But he hadn't forgotten what had happened.
He looked at you a long moment. Watched your every move. He felt like he hadn't been able to look at you proberly for way too long. "Do you-" he swallowed. "Do you like my voice too?" His voice was timid. He wasn't sure why he chose that detail to ask.
"What?" You ask perplexed and looked up at his face.
"Nevermind" his voice was still raw.
"Of course I like your voice. How do you come to that question?"
Newt didn't know how to answer that question so he stayed silent.
You sighed and slid nearer to him on the bed. "Newt what's wrong? Please tell me. You are in a horrible condition. I'm worried. Everyone is worried."
"I- heard you. The other day. Talking about minho. You should give him a go if you feel that way about him."
You blinked. To you his talk was making none sense at all.
"but uh-" he swallowed. "Can I still come to you if you...?"
You frowned. "I'm not sure what you're talking about newt. Of course you can come to me. Always. You know that. But what has this to do with minho-?" The words now registered completely in your brain. "You think I was talking about Minho?"
Newt looked away painfully. "Yes I suppose it was obvious for a while..."
You shook your head in realisation. "Newt."
His eyes snapped up to yours. "I wasn't talking about minho. I was talking about you."
Newt thought he hadn't heard right. "W-what?"
"Yes. I mean minho is great. I love him too. But he's not you."
"You like all that about...me ?"
"Of course. You are...amazing." You laughed quietly.
Newt was speechless.
Your heart was beating a lot more faster than normally but you tried to ignore it. Taking a deep breath. "May I...lay with you?" You whispered.
He never wanted- needed anything more. But his brain was in freeze and he could only nod his head.
You cautiously layed down next to him and crawled your body under the blanket too. You were very clode to eachother. You could feel the presence of his body next to you. He felt himself relax in the presense of your body next to him. Your small breath tickling his cheek.
You decided to let your instincts take over and slid your hand around his waist gingerly. Newts body tensed up and he sucked in a small breath at the sudden contact.
"Thank you." He breathed out. His body relaxing again.
"For what?" You whispered.
"Loving me. Pulling me out. Caring for me. Without you I'd probably would have taken another go at that jump long ago." His self humor shone through.
You smiled but lightly squeezed him. "Don't joke about that. I'm glad you feel that way. Thank you too."
"For what?" He retorted my own question back.
"Being you. Looking out for me. I heard the boys were threatened by you?"
A blush formed on his cheeks. "Yeah they were saying disrespectful stuff and I can't let them wander around thinking they can try whatever they want with you."
You smiled. "Always holding the order up."
"It's my job." You looked at his big brown eyes.
"Please don't punish yourself like this again. Don't shut yourself off like this. I'm not sure why you're punishing yourself. You don't have to tell me. But I don't want you to do it. Please? At least talk to me."
"I'll try."
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simplyholl · 6 days
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Under The Stars
Summary: A beautiful night in nature leads to some fun.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F. Reader
Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI. Established relationship. Fingering.
See My Masterlist Here
You had been looking forward to this trip all month. Tony reserved a camping spot for all the Avengers. He said it would be good for everyone to get some fresh air. As spoiled as he is, you figured he meant you were going glamping. You imagined lavish tents with mattresses and air conditioning.
When you and the rest of the team arrived, you were surprised that Tony only had sleeping bags and regular tents for each of you. You all had to pair up, Tony and Pepper, Sam and Steve, Bruce and Natasha, Scott and Clint, Wanda and Vision, Thor and Loki, and you and your boyfriend, Bucky.
Tony gave the boys tent duty. You, Wanda, Natasha, and Pepper sat in your chairs by the lake enjoying a few drinks while watching. The tents put up a good fight against Earth’s mightiest heroes. Scott assembled his and Clint’s in just a few minutes. He explained that he used to go camping all the time as a kid. The others weren’t so lucky. Thor snapped one of the poles almost immediately. Loki stood watching in disgust, his arms folded across his chest.
Sam was trying to put it together while Steve silently read the instructions. Vision finished his right after Scott. Bruce pushed his glasses up on his nose as he read the instructions then did each step. Bucky looked around at the others trying to mimic what they were doing. Tony gave Scott ten dollars to assemble his. When everyone was finally finished, Pepper got out the picnic baskets she packed.
You all spread out on the blankets you brought. You were happy to get a break from all the hustle and bustle of New York. You and Bucky shared the small cake Pepper placed in each basket. You couldn’t wait until it got dark. The stars were what you had looked forward to the most.
It was a lot cooler at night than during the day. You were thankful you brought an extra blanket. You covered yourself and Bucky, laying on his chest as you stargazed. The team talked about the beautiful night sky. Everyone was laughing and talking amongst themselves.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” Bucky whispers in your ear, his hand laying on your stomach. “We’ve been together all day.” You smile back. You realize what he means when he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties. “We can’t do that here.” You say quietly, trying not to catch anyone’s attention.
“Guess you’ll have to be quiet then.” He smirks, moving his hand lower. You look towards the others, but they weren't paying attention to you. They were too entranced with the beautiful night sky. Bucky dips two fingers inside, curling them perfectly. You clench around them, checking again to make sure your teammates don't see you.
"They aren't payin' attention to us, babe. Relax." He swirls the rough pad of his thumb against your clit, your vision blurs around the edges. "Already?" Bucky smirks, pumping his thick digits in and out of you. You never lasted long with him. He knew your body like it was his own, and to him it was. You belonged to him in every sense of the word.
His cold, vibranium hand grips your thigh, pulling your legs apart as he works his fingers faster, his thumb swirling in tandem. You were so close just from feeling his metal hand so close to your softest parts. Bucky never touched you with it during sex. He was still afraid a small part of when he was the Winter Soldier lurked somewhere deep inside him. So there was no way he would risk hurting you when he was in his most fragile state.
He lost control when he was intimate with you. He held himself back just in case something happened. "Bucky, please touch me with it." You beg, quietly, reaching for the back of his neck. His brows furrow as realization sinks in. "I can't, angel. What if i hurt you?"
"I trust you." You whisper. That statement alone destroyed all his hesitation. His icy fingers replaced his warm digits. You shiver from the contrast. "You like when I touch you with this? My sweet baby, she thinks she could handle it rough." You whine, eyes widening when you realize you were loud.
Bucky covers your mouth with his free hand, slipping his finger in your mouth, his thumb stroking your cheek. You suck your arousal off his finger. He's never been like this with you before. He was always so gentle. You loved this new side of him. His vibranium thumb swipes your clit as he whispers against your ear. "When we get home, I'll fuck you so hard, you won't be able to walk for a week. You'd like that wouldn't you?"
You cum around his metal fingers, his hand over your mouth barely conceals your cry. He lets you ride your orgasm out, flesh hand leaving your mouth, and smoothing down your hair. "You did so good for me." He praises, placing a kiss to your forehead. "Can we make it through one outing without someone fucking? What are we lovesick teenagers?! At least wait until you're in the damn tent!" Tony yells. You and Bucky smile at each other before bursting into a fit of laughter. "Sorry!" You both shout.
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swan-of-sunrise · 2 months
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Hawkeye (Part I)
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Summary: Six days before Christmas, a four-month pregnant (Y/N) accompanies Sam and Bucky to a performance of Rogers: The Musical while Steve and Carina stay home, and any hope of a quiet Christmas for the growing Rogers-(Y/L/N) family is dashed when the married couple catches a shocking news report that threatens to expose their friend as the world’s most prolific vigilante.
Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2.7k
Warnings/Disclaimers: None
A/N: Hi there and welcome to the 4-part series centering around Hawkeye and the Christmas of 2024! This is such an underrated and underappreciated show, and I always knew that I wanted to write (Y/N), Steve and their growing family into it (and give a little extra love to Clint, ‘cause he deserves it!). This’ll be very faithful to the show, but expect a few surprises along the way lol thank you for reading, and I hope you all enjoy!
Hawkeye (Part I) December 19th, 2024 The Home of (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Steve Rogers, Brooklyn (Previous One-Shot)
With Christmas only a week away, the Rogers-(Y/L/N) house was filled to the brim with festive cheer. Their beautifully adorned tree stood tall in the living room beside their grand piano and throughout the rest of the house, they’d set out their plethora of holiday decorations; thanks to Steve’s growing proficiency at baking, the air was laced with the mouthwatering aroma of peppermint, gingerbread and vanilla. The only thing that could improve their cheerful home was the laughter of close friends inspired by the greatly anticipated opening of Broadway’s newest hit show, Rogers: The Musical.
“I’m tellin’ you, Steve, you missed out on one hell of a show!” Sam twisted the cap off his beer and smirked as he took a long sip. “I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but watchin’ these two trying their damndest to keep their cool was way more entertaining than watchin’ Nick Fury sing.”
(Y/N) rolled her eyes at her best friend’s exaggeration, taking off her jewelry piece by piece and looking through the living room mirror that she was stood before at her highly-amused husband seated behind her. “Don’t listen to Birdbrain, sweetheart, he’s embellishing the truth yet again; as long as you ignore all the blatant historical inaccuracies, it’s a perfectly enjoyable musical.”
“That’s easy for you to say, doll, they didn’t have you doin’ a corny tap dance number to somehow symbolize the hell of war,” Bucky grumbled under his breath, still miffed by his out-of-character portrayal in the musical and Sam’s overly-enthusiastic reaction whenever ‘Sergeant Bucky Barnes’ had appeared onstage to sing or dance. “Trust me, buddy, you saved yourself a whole heap of annoyance and justifiable indignation by staying home.”
“Well, I figured that my brief brush with showbiz back in ’43 was plenty enough for one lifetime,” Steve replied with a grin, patting his best friend’s shoulder as he got up from the couch and crossed the living room to help (Y/N) undo the clasp of her necklace. “Even one as long as mine. But hey, I had a stack of unfinished sketches and my little angel to keep me company here at home, and I didn’t have to watch the guy playing me sing a power ballad to a giant poster of Uncle Sam.”
When the necklace’s chain loosened, (Y/N) turned around and pressed her lips against her husband’s in a brief but sweet kiss of thanks. “I should count myself lucky; the rest of the world has to buy a ticket to a hit Broadway show to hear Steve Rogers belt out a power ballad, but all I have to do is listen in on him whenever he takes a shower.”
Sam and Bucky laughed at that and after a chuckling Steve retaliated by tickling the sensitive skin of her neck and stealing another kiss from her, (Y/N) headed upstairs to change out of her black cocktail dress and into her pajamas. She breathed a sigh of relief when she kicked off her black kitten heels and after peeling off her dress, she hung it over the back of her vanity’s chair and smoothed a hand over the satin slip that covered the slight swell of her four-month-pregnant belly. “Thanks for being so cooperative in there tonight, gumball. I had a really fun time with your Uncle Sam and your Uncle Bucky.”
Unfortunately, (Y/N)’s second pregnancy was almost the polar opposite of her first; where she hadn’t begun to show until her second trimester and she never once experienced morning sickness, she was already transitioning into maternity wear and she’d been plagued with intense nausea for over a month straight that was only just beginning to ease up. Their night on the town served as both an enjoyable evening with friends at a so-bad-it’s-good musical adaptation of her husband’s life, and a test to see how well she’d do during her latest book promotion tour in January.
It seemed as though she’d be able to physically handle all the interviews, press conferences and book signing, but she was still working on preparing herself mentally to discuss the chapter of her life that had brought her the greatest joys and largest despairs. While Assemble: The Unabridged History of the Avengers was the definitive chronicle of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, it wasn’t quite as unabridged as one would expect; the remaining Avengers had agreed on what details should be kept from the public – namely, their utilization of Pym Particles to achieve time travel, the entirety of the time heist and Clint’s five-year-long stint as the vengeful Ronin – so not only would she be tasked with discussing the deaths of her friends and allies, she’d also have to carefully work to keep those certain details a secret. Not an easy feat when you’re already experiencing pregnancy brain, she thought to herself with an inward sigh, slipping into her satin nightgown and tugging her robe on as she crept across the hall into Carina’s dimly-lit nursery.
Predictably, her fifteen-month old daughter was fast asleep in her crib, curled up under her colorful Wakandan-made blanket and clutching her stuffed white wolf; Indy, their senior German Shepard rescue, was nestled in his dog bed at the foot of the crib and when (Y/N) quietly entered, his head snapped up at attention but he immediately relaxed when she scratched behind his ears and the thick fur of his neck. Once their protective family dog was placated with scratches, she leaned over the crib and took a moment to observe her peaceful daughter; as energetic as the half super-soldier was throughout the day, she absolutely loved to sleep and hardly ever complained when they put her down for her two daily naps. Greg and Mara warned her that her daughter’s mild-mannered attitude could always fade away once she entered her ‘Terrible Two’s,’ but (Y/N) had a gut-feeling that Carina’s early adventures through space and all the battles against un-dead Asgardians and Thanos’ bloodthirsty army that she’d been present for gave her a resilience that most grown adults would never come to possess.
“Sweet dreams, my little lemon drop,” (Y/N) murmured, her fingers gently brushing her (Y/H/C) locks out of her face before she leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss onto her forehead. “I love you.”
After tucking the blanket around her daughter’s sleeping form, (Y/N) gave her one last smile and turned away from her crib, unsurprised to see Steve leaning against the nursery’s door frame with a content smile playing on his lips. “Sam and Buck already turned in for the night, so I thought I’d check in and see how my three lovely ladies were doing.”
“Two, sweetheart; you know as well as I do that we haven’t found out the sex of the baby yet.” She quietly closed the nursery door and looked at her husband with playful suspicion as they strolled hand-in-hand into their bedroom. “Unless you called up Dr. Prince behind my back.”
“Nope, just some good old-fashioned fatherly intuition.” Steve chuckled, bending down to press a kiss onto her small bump before they went about getting ready for bed, with him changing into his pajamas while she removed her makeup and applied her nighttime skincare in their room’s adjoining bathroom. “The guys mentioned that Barton and his kids were there, too.”
(Y/N)’s fingers momentarily stopped massaging moisturizer into the skin of her face as she recalled the grief etched into the archer’s face when Natasha’s character first twirled onto the stage. “Yeah, they were kicking off their Barton Family Christmas with a little trip to the city to see the show. They left about halfway through; Clint texted me later saying that it was because the kids were a little restless and they wanted to go out for Chinese food before it got too late, but…but I think it had something to do with Nat.”
Steve sighed but remained silent; when (Y/N) finished her nighttime routine and walked back into the bedroom, he was already sitting on his side of the bed with a downcast expression on his face. “He still blames himself for what happened on Vormir.”
“I think so, but I also think he knows that nothing he could’ve done would’ve stopped Nat from making that call…” With a sad sort of smile, she slipped out of her robe and climbed into bed beside her husband, adjusting the comforter over their laps and meeting his saddened azure eyes. “Most of all, I think he just misses her.” And I know exactly how he feels, she thought to herself as her throat burned and she tried her hardest not to imagine the faces of those she still grieved over.
Not a day went by when (Y/N) didn’t think about all the friends they’d lost over the past several years: Tony, Natasha, Vision, Loki and most recently, T’Challa; just as suddenly as they’d lost their four friends and teammates in the battle against Thanos, the King of Wakanda had passed away after a private battle with illness over two months ago. It seemed that with each blessing that appeared in their life, there was an equally devastating blow waiting just around the corner for them and as each one was dealt, (Y/N) started to truly comprehend the all-consuming grief that had followed Clint like a shadow since Thanos’ Snap in 2018.
Being with Steve and Carina and knowing that there was a new baby on the way certainly helped, as did sharing memories of those they’d lost with her husband and their two best friends and focusing her attention on her upcoming book tour. Steve, understanding all too well the emotions that were brewing within her, brought a hand up to cradle her cheek and drew his thumb across her cheekbone as his eyes softened with empathy. “When Cari dumped her entire bowl of spaghetti onto her head the other night and we had to give her an emergency bath, one of the first things that went through my mind was that Nat would get a kick out of hearing that story. It took me a second to remember that she…” Steve’s voice cracked and he swallowed thickly before continuing. “I’ve fought gods and monsters, I’ve traveled through space and time and I’ve lived long enough to believe that in this universe, anything is possible. She knows, sunshine…they all do.”
With tears in her eyes, (Y/N) let out a watery laugh and accepted the tissue that he offered her. “You sure you’re not the New York Times best-selling author in this family?”
“Nah, it’s just easier to land an emotional speech when your wife’s hormones are constantly being thrown for a loop by a four month old fetus,” Steve replied with a lopsided grin while she shook her head in playful exasperation and dabbed at her tear-filled eyes. “We should probably get some sleep; Sam and Buck have an early flight to New Orleans tomorrow, and we’ve still gotta take Cari to the mall for her picture with Santa.”
(Y/N), recalling her best friend Greg and his wife Mara’s many horror stories of taking their little Abbie to see Santa, bit her lip and replied, “Our daughter spent the first month of her life surrounded by Sakaarians, un-dead Asgardians and Chitauri soldiers, so I’m sure that a picture with a complete stranger dressed as Santa Claus’ll be a piece of cake.”
“Of course…” The longer her husband thought it over, though, the more hesitant he appeared. “But maybe we should pack her stuffed wolf just in case-?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
Ever the true gentleman, Steve discarded her tissue for her and switched off their bedside lamp before burrowing under the bedcovers beside her, leaning over to brush his lips against her brow while she slipped her arm over his torso. “I also have to text Scott; when we were finishing up my interview for his book last week, he made me promise to give him a review of the musical. I think he wants to take Hope and Cassie when the touring company comes to San Francisco in the spring.”
Steve chuckled and carefully wound his arm around her to hold her closer. “He’ll be happy to know that they decided to add him to the Battle of New York. Speaking as one of the six people who was there, though, I’m not too sure what the presence of Ant-Man’s meant to add to one of Earth’s first alien invasions.”
“That’s the beauty of historical fiction: you can play fast and loose with dates, times and events for the sake of dramatic purposes while still portraying a person’s real-life story. In this case, adding one of the most popular Avengers to one of the most famous Avengers battles doesn’t change the fact that you – the main character – really were there.” (Y/N)’s eyes drifted closed and she could feel her body relaxing against Steve’s as sleep began to take hold. “With that being said, I just know he’s never ever gonna stop talking about it…”
Their tired laughs were suddenly interrupted by a sharp rap on their closed bedroom door and before either of them could say anything, the door opened and the light flickered on to reveal Sam and Bucky entering their room with matching frowns on their faces. “Sorry for barging in, guys, but you’re gonna wanna see this.” While Sam crossed over to retrieve the television remote from (Y/N)’s nightstand, she and Steve exchanged a look of confusion as they sat up and Bucky sat himself down on the edge of their bed as Sam switched their television on to NY1.
“…following a breaking news story, a high society gala rocked by an explosion when it went off at Park Avenue and 68th Street tonight. The cause of the explosion is still under investigation, but witnesses captured cell phone footage of a masked assailant fleeing the scene.” The news anchor’s face was replaced with an unsteady video of a bustling 68th Street; a masked figure dressed from head to toe in black vaulted over a speeding car and scooped a matted Golden Retriever up into their arms, both sliding out of the busy traffic just in the nick of time. The amateur footage paused on a close-up of the masked figure, and (Y/N)’s heart leapt into her throat when she recognized the imposing black and gold leather suit. “Authorities believe the assailant could be-”
“The Ronin,” (Y/N) breathed, and the implications of the infamous suit’s reappearance were not lost on her or the other three men in the room.
“-Who once terrorized organized crime here in New York and around the world for five brutal years. This is the first potential sighting of the Ronin in years, and his identity continues to remain a mystery to this day. We will continue to follow this breaking news story and report on any developments as they come in-”
Sam muted the television and turned to face them with a troubled expression written across his face. “That sure as hell wasn’t Barton in that video.”
“Which means one of two possibilities: either somebody with a sick sense of humor’s running around New York in a handmade Ronin suit and playing out their little fantasy of being a vigilante…” The fingers of Bucky’s vibranium hand traced along the raised lettering of his old dog tags as his brows furrowed, his earlier pleasant mood long gone and replaced with a dark trepidation. “Or someone found the real suit in the wreckage of the Avengers Facility.”
His features drawn with a solemnity reminiscent of his days as Captain America, Steve carded his hand through his rumpled blonde hair and stared at the muted footage of the imposter. “Either way, Barton and his kids are in danger; if they manage to find out the Ronin’s true identity, then every single member of the city’s criminal underworld is gonna go after him for revenge.”
(Y/N) let out a weary sigh and reached for her cell phone that was charging on her nightstand. “So much for that Barton Family Christmas…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: And there you have it! How do you think the Rogers-(Y/L/N) family will fit into this show? What're the surprises that are gonna pop up? I guess you'll have to tune in for the rest of the chapters to find out! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!
Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5 
Hawkeye (Part II)
Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist 
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