Summary: A special formula created to stop Omegas being claimed creates a world where they have no choice but to obey the limitless and debaucherous whims of any Alpha.
The shady corners of the entertainment industry take full advantage and you, an unfortunate victim of this future, work for pittance just to get by.
Rival gangs. Omegas without rights. Alphas without morals. No consequences. The only way out is death. That is until the fantasy of true mates becomes apparent that it’s not as much of a myth as you once thought, and maybe there is an alternative way out after all.
Characters: Mob!Alpha!Steve x Sex Worker/Dancer!Omega!Reader. With appearances by Alpha!Brock Rumlow, Alpha!Bucky, Alpha!Thor, Beta!Sam and others.
Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, soulmates AU, knotting, angst, explicit sexual content, non-con, dub-con, forced drugging, mentions of kidnapping, talk of sexual assault, prostitution, violence against women, talk of murder, dumping of corpses, slight stalking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), vaginal sex, 18+ Please assume all tags apply to every chapter. More warnings to be added as story progresses.
A/N: The response I have had for this series has been absolutely insane so I'm thrilled to drop the first chapter for all of you lovelies tonight. Please let me know what you think! Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. And thank you to @sweeterthanthis and @river-soul for looking over the story thus far and giving me the support to continue. While likes are gold, feedback/reblogs are golden. Please support your content creators. My work is my own, therefore I do not give consent for this story to be re-posted or translated to any other site.
It’s starting to drizzle with rain when you arrive for work, your shoulders instantly sagging as you stroll across the half empty parking lot and all of the willpower that forced you to get dressed and drive here ebbs away with each trepid step. Your eyes are always drawn to the roof and the neon sign that flashes through the blanket of night, its fluorescence filling you with anxiety. Bright and garish, it’s symbolic in signifying your way into allegorical hell.
Abandon all hope ye who enter here.
As you pull the heavy backstage door open, you can hear Rumlow before you see him. Roaring at someone or something about mobsters looking for a good time, but you can’t be sure. You try to drown out the piece of shit as much as you can, despite the fact he’s the one who pays your measly wage.
The establishment is a hole. The stench of Alpha clings to your pores the moment you step inside, and no amount of scrubbing in the makeshift shower room— which could pass for nothing more than a drain pipe sticking out of the crumbling wall— does anything to help lessen the smell. You hide it the best you can with perfume, but it still lingers on the very cusp of your senses, just out of reach.
And even though it’s always there— swirling and mingling with that of stale tobacco and spilled alcohol, there’s an underlying note of sweetness beneath all that that brings you comfort if you take a deep enough breath. You can’t recall the day you first noticed it, or how it came to be, but it remains all the same.
A safe space for you to retreat to when the Alphas that frequent the club get a little too hands on.
Omegas like you have no rights. Omegas live to serve and obey the rich— used in whatever way they see fit. And in this part of Brooklyn, you and twelve other wayward— kidnapped women work for pittance as entertainment for Alphas looking for a good time.
At first, there were at least twenty of you. But when a couple were marked on the job by Alphas who couldn’t control their instincts, your boss, Rumlow swiftly had them removed from the roster and dumped into the East River. Thrown away like trash because nobody wants to fuck a claimed Omega.
You still remember the last one that got tossed like it was yesterday. Annabel. Or Ginger as she was known on stage, thanks to her flaming head of hair. You still remember the way her scent changed once she’d been marked. To you, it only enhanced it, but to Rumlow, she was like a prize show horse who had broken its legs and needed to be put down.
“What is that god awful stench?” he yelled, pacing across the dressing room towards Bella’s station. “It smells like sour fuckin’ pussy in here.” As he reached the redhead trying in haste to cover her neck with makeup, his eyes widened at the angry welts in the shape of a set of teeth, her skin stained red with paint. “You let someone mark you?”
She didn’t even have time to defend herself as he dragged her to her feet by her hair, and frogmarched her out of sight.
That had been the last time you saw her.
Nobody dared get claimed after that.
“What’s wrong with you?” The sound of Rumlow barking in your general direction pulls you back to the present. An angry scowl sits on his face as you traipse down the corridor to your room to get ready.
“Nothing,” you mutter, “shoulder’s just itchy, that’s all.” You scratch at your mating gland, hating the way it pulses so steadily, irritated by the dye injected just below the surface of your skin.
It’s been three years since Hydra created their priceless oMegdra formula. It works just like the dye packs you’d find in bank vaults— but instead, oMegdra can be injected into a mating gland to prevent claiming, but if an Alpha does, their pheromones are instantly soured and in turn, become completely undesirable to all other Omegas.
But the real prevention comes in the form of death. The toxin pollutes their bloodstream and effectively starts off the chemical reaction that sees them slowly rot from the inside out. And with a distinct claret hue, the drug tattoos their skin forever. Almost like a scarlet letter branding them with their impending expiration date.
That’s what has kept Rumlow in business for so long— his group of Omega whores that can be fucked and abused in any way an Alpha sees fit, and they don’t need to worry about taking her home after.
Brock eyes you with uncertainty and Bella’s red hair flashes in your mind.
“It’s fine,” you counter, “just caught it when I was in the shower.”
You wonder if it’s your heat, knowing your body has a tendency to aggravate the foreign liquid when it’s close, but if memory serves you correctly, you only had your last two weeks ago. Your skin prickles as a faint reminder of it and the scrawny Alpha Stark kid with his daddy’s credit card, desperate to pay to satiate your heat who ended up being way too heavy-handed than you expected for his size.
The market for an Omega in heat is hefty. Alphas pay double, sometimes triple depending on which one takes their fancy, and considering the amount of birth control Rumlow forces you all to take every month, he has no concerns about bastard pups being born to a slut mother. However if one slips through the cracks, he has no qualms about letting them go for a little swim down the East River too.
“That’s all it better be, I can’t have one of my best out of action.”
“I’m alright Brock, seriously, chill your shit,” you reply, giving him a small shrug, “it’s no big deal.”
“Needs to stay that way too, we’ve got important clients in tonight. Everyone needs to bring their A game.” He glares at you, lips pursed together in an angry line before he turns and storms off down the hall.
Of course, tonight is a big deal. One of the most famous crime syndicates in Brooklyn have decided to use the club as their venue of choice for the evening, and the air inside is electric. Alphas swarm the place from corner to corner and despite the rich, fresh scent they excrete, all you can focus on is your safe space and the serenity it brings you. You can’t place why it’s so strong all of a sudden, or why you can pick it out so effortlessly through all of the musky sweet tobacco scents and notes of sandalwood and pine, but the saccharine smell envelopes you like a warm hug, guiding you through the night like it does every other.
You somehow feel at peace standing at the side of the stage, waiting to be introduced by the MC, a beta who you know as Sam, but to the rest of the world, he’s The Falcon. Usually when you’re shifting from one leg to the other, feet already cramping in the red heels you had been gifted by another Omega, dread clutches at your heart, wondering fearfully what kind of monsters lurk in the shadows of the audience.
Could this be your last night to dance? Will you end up on a cold mortuary slab in the morning, just another nameless Omega, bloated and bruised by the current of the water carrying you away to the ocean?
Floating away to a serene afterlife sure seems like a more blissful alternative to this one, and there’s a dark part of you that almost wishes for it, but then the smell hits you again and tranquility neutralises that fear. You’re suddenly no longer afraid. The sound of Sam calling your name pulls you from your reverie, and you’re skirting around the curtain, ready to dance your shift away.
As soon as you step out onto the stage, you’re met with whoops and catcalls. The lights beating down on you make it hard to see who makes them, but if you squint just enough to still look sexy, you can just make out the crowd and in particular, your mark for the night.
There’s always one that has the look— the one that tells you he’s got enough cash in his pocket to burn, and a salacious appetite to boot. As you reach your spot, curling a leg around the cool metal pole, you thank the lord that most of the Alphas comprising the guest list tonight are attractive. It makes your job a hell of a lot easier if you can imagine fucking them while also enjoying it.
A crazy feat in itself.
You know that one of the men shouting, “show us that pretty little Omega cunt,” will no doubt be knot deep inside you before lights up at five am.
You’re still scanning the room as you start to dance, hips slowly swaying in time with the music when you notice him standing at the bar. Not your intended mark— he’s to the right of you, cigar dangling between his lips, but somebody else. The man at the bar stares back at you over the shoulder of his friend. A small intrigued smirk tugs at the corners of his lips before he’s pushing away from the mahogany counter, drink in hand while his friend continues to babble rapidly beside him. He’s not paying attention to the man whatsoever, his focus solely on you and the way you roll your hips seductively along to the beat.
Every nerve ending in your body alights, intoxicated by the way he captivates you. You keep his gaze, unable to tear yourself away, watching as he slumps into his seat, surrounded by men. Could he be part of the esteemed clientele Rumlow had been fretting about? Very possibly— every single man here looks like the kind you don’t want to piss off.
He never takes his eyes off you, enraptured by your slow strip tease, and while you do your best to keep yours on his, whenever you lose his gaze, you’re quick to seek it out again, desperate to keep the feel of the heat from his eyes sizzling beneath your skin.
The song is over before you even realise it, the next one starts up just as your friend Mandy joins you on stage. Her gentle touch to your arm brings you back to reality sharply, and she mouths, “are you alright?” as you nod back, a little disoriented. Losing yourself to the music never happens, and you put it down to the metaphorical caress of the Alpha still staring up at you.
You tremble the whole way off stage, ears prickling at the sound of disappointed moans by your departure before they’re melting into lewd shouts, knowing Mandy must’ve broken out her party piece already to distract from your disappearance.
Reaching the bottom of the small steps, you wrap a gown around you, intent on heading back to the dressing room to compose yourself, ready to start your dance over. However when you take a deep breath, you’re suddenly overcome by the smell of motor oil and stale cigarettes. You glance up, and come face to face with an unfamiliar Alpha.
In this oppressed society, Omegas are only permitted to speak when an Alpha addresses them, but you find yourself asking him with a squeak, “C-can I help you?”
Every instinct roars at you to allow this man your undivided attention, but he makes you uncomfortable with the way he reveres you, his lips bared in a hungry smile.
“Yeah,” the Alpha snarks, “ya can help me with this.” He distastefully grabs at his dick.
“Talk to my boss out front for my fees.”
“Nah, a whore Omega like you must be free.” His hand whips out in front of him, grabbing at your wrist tight.
“Lovely show you put on up there tonight,” a voice cuts in from behind the imposing Alpha. The man turns on the spot, and you’re met with the piercing blue gaze of the friend that accompanied your captivated suitor at the bar, instant relief flooding your veins.
“Get lost pal, she’s taken,” Motor Oil growls, quickly disregarding him.
“Yeah she is,” the second man isn’t quite done talking, and the Alpha almost branding you with the tightness of his grip jumps away like you just electrocuted him, when he finishes with;
“Mr. Rogers has requested her personally.”
Please be aware that you may have been tagged due to your previous interest in the story. If you would like to be removed, please let me know.
It was almost All Hallow’s Eve and Wanda’s birthday. You had a little surprise in mind for the young witch and love of your life. You are a supernatural being, with abilities that tie to the afterlife, you’re even good friends with Death herself.
Wanda, the first person to not be afraid of you, was feeling depressed. She missed her family terribly and you wanted to do something to brighten her Halloween.
Tony took care of the rest of the details. The party was all set and you called in an old favor to an ancient friend.
Wanda walks into the living room of the compound to find the entire area decorated with her favorite things and colors. Every Avenger jumps out, yelling, “surprise!”
Wanda clasps her hands around her mouth, trying her best to hold back her developing smile.
Everyone piles around, making the young witch smile. But as she looks through the crowd, she can’t see you.
You walk in through the door, but someone’s with you. Wanda freezes in place, tears welling up in her eyes.
Standing next to you, a man in a blue track suit. He hasn’t aged a day, his white hair shines in the night and he looks to Wanda smiling.
“P-Pietro?” Wanda can barely speak. Pietro walks right up to Wanda, tears forming in his own eyes.
“Hey sis,” he says as he wraps her in a hug, “you didn’t see this coming?” They share a laugh. Wanda just about collapses into her brother’s arms.
“How?” She can barely ask above a whisper.
“Your lovebird there,” he gestures to you, “made a deal with Death. I’d stay here if I work for the avengers. Not that bad a deal really.”
Wanda pulls you over to her with her magic and brings you into the hug. Pietro laughs.
“You do realize I’m never leaving you two alone from now on” Pietro laughs as he goes off to talk with Clint.
Wanda looks at you with those sparkling eyes. Without even talking, she quickly summons a projection of the two of you. The two of you sneak off a second later.
Wanda forces you against the nearest wall and pulls you into a kiss. “Happy birthday my Rose” you try to say between kisses.
Wanda giggles before pulling you into another series of kisses. Not that you were complaining.
For Wanda, it was the best birthday ever. And now she can look forward to many more with you and Pietro by her side.
A/n: OMG I wrote something else?! Being on holiday is good for my creative side apparently. Anyway here's some older dad!Peter au because I just love it. please reblog if you can, it goes a long way.
This fic can also be read as a prequel to this oneshot.
Warnings: unedited writing as usual
Peter Parker prided himself on only twice being called to the principal’s office. Once for what had been going on during his sophomore year of high school and another for accidentally knocking Flash out as he underestimated his strength. Ned had joined him that time for laughing too hard and cheering Peter on.
He had thanked himself for not becoming too familiar with the drab walls decorated with awards and diplomas of the principal and the uncomfortable seats that May had complained about when they had called her in. Yet here he was again much older than when he last sat in these chairs and waiting for the principal to give him a lecture.
“Mr Parker, thank you for coming.”
Peter looked up at the familiar voice and smiled, shaking his old principal’s hand. He observed that the man had grown older in his age but his face was still kind and sympathetic.
“Nice to see you again.” Peter nodded and fidgeted with his hands, a sign he was nervous even if he wasn’t the one in trouble. Not yet. “My wife is still at work.”
Peter wished you could be here, sat next to him and holding his hand but he knew you couldn’t skip work. Being a scientist and working for himself gave Peter enough freedom to leave when he was needed for Spider-Man or parent duties.
“So, um, what happened?” Peter smiled, trying to not show his nerves. His son was never usually one to get into trouble but he had a suspicious feeling that he knew what this meeting was concerning. After all Peter had been the same age when his body had gone through similar changes.
The principal clasped his hands together and bit his lip as if pondering how best to word the news. “Ben is a model student as you know, best grades in his class.”
Peter smiled proudly and nodded, remembering all the report cards with A+ that he had insisted on putting on the fridge much to his son’s embarrassment.
“But there have been some issues.” The older man spoke carefully as he looked at Peter. “Ben has been acting oddly recently. He’s been losing concentration and hasn’t been doing as well in his subjects. Reminds me of someone else’s behaviour.” He looked pointedly at Peter which made his cheeks turn pink.
He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded, avoiding eye contact as he remembered when he had first been discovering his powers and new responsibilities, letting his school work slip slightly. It had taken him a while to find the balance between superheroing and being a teenager. He was still struggling even at the age of 34.
“And this morning he somehow ended up on the ceiling of the science lab, almost scaring Mrs Davidson to death. He refused to come down and when he did eventually fall down he broke several pieces of expensive lab equipment.” The principal frowned, obviously disappointed in Ben’s behaviour. Peter did his best not to laugh at the scene the story created in his mind and looked as serious as he could but despite his best efforts a laugh escaped.
“It’s not funny Mr Parker. I’m suspending Ben for 3 days and asking that he pays for some of the damage his prank caused.”
That meant that Peter or you would be paying.
Peter sighed and nodded in understanding as the principal called Ben into his office. It wasn’t long before a similar floppy head of curls much like Peter’s peeked through the door. There was a bruise on his head and an obvious look of knowing as he spotted his Dad sat in the chair opposite the principal.
Ben held tight onto the strap of his backpack, his eyes downcast to the floor as a thin gleam of sweat covered his brow. A look Peter noticed all too well from when he was a teenager. It hurt his heart to see his son look so distressed and sad.
“Hey Benji. We’re gonna go home okay?”
“Am i expelled?!” Ben looked back and forth between the principal and his dad with panic clear on his face. Peter quickly shook his head as he stood up and patted his son on the back.
“No, just suspended.” Peter explained reassuringly but Ben still looked panicked. The principal did the rest of the explaining and gave him a warning to not do it again. Ben nodded and took a deep breath as he left the office with his dad close behind.
“Mr Parker.” The principal called him back, making Peter pause at the door and turn back. “I remember similar behaviour when you were Ben’s age. Make sure he doesn’t do anything reckless.”
Peter nodded with brighter pink cheeks than before as he glanced at the principal’s knowing smile, quickly leaving out of the door with his son.
Ben was quieter than usual as he walked to the car, trying to ignore the looks from other kids. He was a smart boy, like Peter as you liked to say and Peter knew that what had happened was not a prank Ben had had in mind.
“Dad I’m sor-”
“It’s okay.” Peter reassured before Ben could apologise, knowing it was time to tell him what he needed to know. It had been a hard secret to keep for 15 years and whilst Ben knew his father was Spider-Man, he didn’t know that he was going to be his father’s new successor. There were moments he was sure that his son knew like when he had grabbed his dad’s web shooters and tried to be his own superhero. Now he was going to be able to live that dream.
“Let’s go get some ice cream, yeah?”
Ben looked at his dad in pleasant surprise at his offer and quickly nodded, smiling for the first time all day as he left the school building. He was just happy that his Dad wasn’t angry with him. Peter yelling at him had only happened once when Ben was much younger and prone to breaking things (mainly Peter’s collectibles) but he didn’t like seeing his father angry.
“Ice cream sounds good Dad.”
You paced the living room floor as you waited impatiently for Peter and Ben to get home. Peter had promised to let you know how the meeting went but his text never arrived, only making your nerves worsen when you arrived home.
As soon as the door opened you turned so fast on your heels to see who it was that you almost gave yourself whiplash.
“Where have you been?”
Peter looked at you with a small plastic ice cream spoon in his mouth, the yummy treat smeared on his and Ben’s lips, answering your question.
“We got ice cream.” Ben mumbled with his mouth full, just like his father had done many times. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, looking at the pair of them expectantly.
“How did the meeting go?” You blurted, tapping your foot on the hardwood floor. Ben and Peter exchanged a look before smiling.
“Well meet my new apprentice Spiderling.” Peter clapped Ben’s shoulder and smiled proudly, his eyes crinkling and it almost eased your anxiety.
“That didn’t answer- wait you told him?!” You looked at Peter with a pout. “We said we’d do that together baby.”
“I’m sorry but he needed an explanation after he got suspended.” Peter stole a kiss from you which gave Ben his cue to leave you both to it, already practicing his spider-man moves. You nodded and sighed with a fond smile as you leaned into Peter’s touch, listening to his excited ramble about how good Ben was going to be.
That was until it dawned on you.
“Ben got suspended?!”
Peter gulped and stuttered as he tried to explain what had happened in the meeting, his cheeks turning redder than the colour of the suit Ben was currently trying to fit into as he stole it from his Dad’s closet.
Title: All Tied Up and No Place to Go
Artists: @nonexistenz and @fightacrosstheconstellation
Relationships: Loki/Stephen Strange
Major Archive Warnings: none
Word Count: 8.7k
Summary: Loki doesn't miss Stephen Strange. Sure, he showed up at the Sanctum today under the extremely thin pretense of needing a book (which he can't remember the title of now that he's holding it). And sure, he knows it's been exactly four weeks and six days since he's seen Stephen. And yes, every time Loki and Stephen spend time together, he feels like he's with someone who really understands him.
But none of that means anything. They're just friends. They're completely, totally just friends, and everyone knows it.
Well, everyone, apparently, except the Cloak of Levitation.
Written for the @lokirarepairbigbang. Thank you to @windsett for the betaing!
read the fic here!
“You’re not going to just bring it home for the aesthetic? Like, get one of those ladder bookshelves and instead of shelving your books like a normal person, stack them so your house looks really Lived In?”
“You’re so funny,” Loki said with a smirk. The problem was, Strange actually was funny. “And maybe that’s exactly what I need them for. Maybe New Asgard is going to be on the Better Homes and Gardens of Norway Tour, and I’m remodeling the place for a whole hygge feel.”
With a groan, Stephen said, “God, I never want to hear you say those words again. Or if you do, you better walk the walk and come in here wearing skinny jeans, flannel, and a beanie next time.”
Wrinkling his nose, Loki said, “I have style, Strange. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a beanie.”
“I think you’d pull off the skinny jeans,” Stephen said. He tilted his head. “Maybe even the flannel.”
Summary: Finding solace in your two favorite men and having the war take them away from you was hard, but you never expected your life to completely flip when you insisted on seeking answers. The simple life you lead no longer exists and neither do the men you thought you knew.
A/N: For how many words this chapter is It feels really short. Also These next chapters I'm hoping will be a lot longer since Readers' involvement will really start to ramp up. This was a hard chapter to write because I didn't know when or how I wanted to end it tbh but I hope everyone enjoys it all the same. As usual, any feedback is welcomed and I did not proofread it so I apologize in advance.
TW: none I think
Steve dragged his feet as he paced around the kitchen, moving from the fridge to the stove as he placed the carton of eggs on the counter next to him. Placing a pan on the stove he moved to turn it on before he was interrupted by rapid knocking on the door. He sighed as he checked the clock trying to find out who could be bothering him so early in the morning.
“I’m coming!” He yelled as the knocking had yet to stop since it began.
He opened the door and guilt had instantly hit him and the sight of your puffy face and red eyes.
“You weren’t there this morning.” You spoke, voice hoarse from sobbing.
You pushed past Steve and stood in his living room. “Even if you didn’t want to see Bucky off you could have still been there, if not for him but at least for me, Steve.”
You inhaled a deep breath, staring at Steve waiting for him to say something, but instead he shut the door and stayed silent as he stared at you.
“I understand, Steve, that seeing him leave to go join the army would have been hard for you, but you don’t know if you’ll- if we’ll ever see him again.” You walked towards him, lifting your hand to give him the letter you were holding. “It’s from Bucky. You should write him back when you have the time.” You gently placed the letter against his chest as you looked at the ground trying hard not to cry anymore for the day.
“(y/n)-” He tries but you cut him off by raising your other hand.
“Just write to him, Steve. He wanted me to tell you that he loves you and will miss you while he’s away.” You finally look at him.
Steve nods his head as he grabs the letter from you, trying his best to keep it as smooth as possible.
“I’m sorry.” He says quietly.
“Do you still have your physical today?” You ask, no longer wanting to wallow in self-pity.
“I do, in an hour and a half.”
You nod your head.
“Have you had breakfast yet?” You ask as you make your way into the kitchen.
“I was just about to make some.” He says placing the letter on a side table before following you into the kitchen.
“Good, I’m starving.” You tell him, mustering the best smile you could.
You sat in the waiting room as Steve's’ name was called by the doctor, resting your head back against the wall trying your best not to close your eyes and succumb to the exhaustion of the day. As you tried to stay awake with people watching you noticed the doctor that called Steve come out from behind the curtain. He made his way to a slightly shorter man with glasses that looked vaguely familiar. Before stepping into the makeshift room that Steve was in you saw the older man turn back to look at you before giving you a smile and small nod of his head.
You began to panic for a bit not knowing if he was here to bust Steve for constantly lying on his enlistment form or if he was a special doctor and yet another thing was seriously wrong with Steve. Finally after sitting in agony were your questions answered by the older man leaving the room followed by a very smiley and very happy Steve Rogers.
You stood from your seat as Steve walked over...followed by the other man. Smiling at Steve as you stepped aside so the man that followed him could stand next to him as he introduced you two.
“(Y/N), this is Dr. Abraham Erskine he uh, he got me into the army.”
“It’s a pleasure.” The doctor says as he reaches out his hand.
“Join the army?” You asked, shaking the doctor's hand while looking at Steve for an answer.
“Yes. We noticed that Mr. Rogers here has been doing everything in his power to try and join the army, and well it has been granted.” Dr. Erskine says as he places a hand on Steve's shoulder.
“So...you’re...you’re enlisted now? When do you leave?” You ask Steve.
That smile on Steve’s face was enough of an answer for you and you felt your body freeze. The two men talked to one another as you stood still and silent trying to process the information you just heard. It was easy information to process, after all it took no time to process when Bucky had enlisted, but Steve? Your Steve? The Steve who occasionally asks you to open up jars. The Steve who always goes to pick you up only to stumble backwards and land on his ass as you both laugh like a couple of children. Your Steve who for as long as you’ve known him has never once won a single fight.
“-I’m thinking of sending him out first thing tomorrow.” Dr. Erskine says as he looks to Steve for approval.
“Tomorrow.” You breathe.
“Well, we will come grab you first thing tomorrow morning then. That excitement you have is good Mr. Rogers. Keep it for as long as you can.” He turns to you “It was lovely to meet you, thank you for allowing us to take this one off your hands.”
You force a smile onto your face as you watch the man leave, not processing anything Steve was telling you as he looks at the paper for the hundredth time since he’s gotten them. You finally snapped out of it as he grabbed your hand and led you out of the building with the promise of a big romantic dinner with him cooking all of your favorites as an apology for the abrupt information and him leaving right from under you as soon as possible.
You sat at the kitchen table as Steve prepped for dinner in the kitchen, swaying and humming to whatever song was on the radio. You couldn’t take your eyes off the paper that sat in front of you. As much as you wanted to spend one last lovely night with Steve, a part of you couldn’t wait to be in the privacy of your own home. Where you could finally scream and cry and curse the world for taking the only two good things away from you.
You refused to let Steve see you cry. You refused to do anything to diminish the excitement he was experiencing. With Bucky it was easy, sure he wanted to fight but he didn’t want to leave you anymore than you didn’t want him to. While you knew Steve's situation wasn’t because he wanted to leave you, he just wanted this win so badly.
“-or white?” You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Steve's voice.
“I asked if you wanted red or white? Wine.” Steve chuckled.
“Oh, let’s do white tonight.” You smiled at him, “It is a celebration after all.”
Steve smiled as he went back into the kitchen only to return a moment later with an opened bottle and two wine glasses.
“The food should be ready soon.” He says as he sets the glasses down then sits in the seat next to you. “Still not entirely sure why you chose chicken noodle soup of all meals but at least it was easy to cook.
“That’s exactly why I chose it.” You teased as you grabbed the bottle filling both of your glasses up, pouring a little more in yours than appropriate.
“I’m sorry, are you calling me a bad cook?”
“The absolute worst.” You laughed, leaning in to capture his lips with yours.
As you pulled back Steve set his glass back down on the table and reached up to cup your face. He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes as he focused on everything about you. He loved how soft your skin was under his touch. How your right eyebrow always twitched when his thumb brushed over your cheek.
“I’m going to miss you Steve.” You finally whispered, breaking the silence between the two of you.
“I know, Doll. But just like with Bucky I’ll write to you everyday and I’ll even try to call.” He kissed your forehead.
You sat back to get a good look at your boy for one last time in who knows how long.
“I’d really like that, Rogers.” You gave him a smile, eyes stinging from holding back the tears. “I’ll see you after you win the war.”
And the following morning when that dreaded moment came it took everything in you not to break down right then and there. You used all the courage and energy you had to smile and make happy as the doctor and Steve exchanged a few words before it was finally your time to say goodbye to Steve.
“I’ll see you after the war, Doll.”
“Stay safe, Steve. Please.” You practically begged.
“You know I will.”
You turned your head shyly to look at the Doctor who cleared his throat awkwardly as he whistled and turned away in a small attempt to give you and Steve some privacy. Steve chuckled as you turned back to look at him pulling him down into a passionate kiss. As your hands tangled in Steve’s hair you felt his grip on you tighten trying to pull you as close to him as he could.
It wasn’t until you both became lightheaded that you finally parted attempting to breathe some air but only breathing in one another. The deja vu from this situation was finally starting to hit you as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.
“I love you. Now and forever.”
“Now and forever, Darling.”
You stood planted as Steve grabbed his bag and stepped around you, the tears finally falling once you heard the car door slam shut. You turned as the car engine started and watched Steve through the window. You saw Steve wipe at his eyes as the car finally drove off and all you were left with was silence. It was as if the whole world had deafened as no sound reached your ears. And finally the energy in your body was gone as you collapsed on the doorstep of Steve’s house, sobs consuming your body as the realization of the situation you were in finally hit you.
Note: This a complete flash fic. I just started writing know Clint would be present and this is what came out. I hope you enjoy. If so, please leave a like, a comment, or a reblog.
Clint Barton is Stuck in the Middle
“So how is it going?” Clint said, sitting in the cracked old leather chair her had so kindly donated to Kate and Yelena's apartment. “The whole roommate thing?”
Yelena and Kate sat on opposite ends of the couch, each seeming to lean into their respective arm and away from each other
“Fine,” Yelena said, boldly. “Just ducky.”
“Ducky?” Kate said, turning to look at her friend. “Who says 'ducky'?”
“I say ducky,” Yelena replied,. “What is your problem with ducky?”
“I don' t have a problem with the sentiment, but ducky is so last century. Captain Carter says that kind of stuff?”
“Well, may you should hang with her more often,” Yelena retorted. “It would improve your attitude. Mine is just ducky!”
Kate practically snarled at the blonde. “Well maybe you should spend more time with Clint! He's great at attitude adjustments.”
“Okie dokie,” Clint interjected. “You got anything to drink. Preferably something strong. I'm gonna need it to get through whatever this is.
“I can make you a White Russian,” Kate said, standing and starting to round the arm of the couch, before stopping cold. “Oh, on second thought, why don't you have the white Russian make it for you!”
Kate plopped back down in her and folded her arms, crossly.
“Oh, aren't you a clever one,” Yelena answered, arms also folded, defiantly. “Maybe he should make you a Shirley Temple because you are such a princess!”
“Ladies!” Clint barked, to stop their bickering and get their attention. “The love and admiration in this room is admirable. I'm really in favor of he honest airing of dirty laundry. Sometimes feelings needs to be expressed. It's healthy. By the way, is that what stinks in here? The laundry?”
“Shut up, Clint!” Kate said, unmoved by his lackluster and probably insincere comment.
“No, go on, Clint Barton,” Yelena countered. “Dirty laundry stinks when the princess won't do it. I agree with you.”
Kates eyes narrowed and her lips pressed into a hard line. She into the space between them and jabbed and index finger at former assassin. “I am your roommate, not your mother! Do your own clothes.”
Yelena shrugged and tilted her head absently. “Perhaps roomie is better at laundry than Melina. She was good at many things, but not that.”
Kate growled in frustration, looking back over her shoulder at Clint, who was investigating the fridge. “How are those drinks, Avenger boy?”
“You guys got nothing,” Clint said, popping his head up. Like orange juice and Milk. Seriously? Not even a six pack. We could all us that at the moment.”
“Yelena said she was g-”
“Enough!” Clint declared, coming back over to the couch. “I'm taking you two to dinner and when we get back, I will do the laundry and you two will fold it TOGETHER. Got me? Now shake. Just like my kids. I swear.”
The two women nodded, silently, and smirked, despite themselves, as they shook.
“You're not our dad,” Kate said, standing and giving Clint a light hug.
“Yes, he is,” Yelena said. “Like a big bro-dad.”
“That doesn't work at all,” the brunette argued.
“It does,” the blonde replied, matter of fact.
“Let's GO, Ladies,” Clint said ushering them to the door.
Warnings: Fluff, Smut, breeding kink, dick too bomb
It’s those goddamn shorts. Bucky is trying hard not to glare at you, sprawled comfortably on the bed as you lounge. He’s got a love/hate relationship with those fucking shorts—mainly because every time you wear them, it’s just a torturous countdown to inevitable moment he rips them off. It’s miserably hot in the apartment—the central air is on the fritz, and the accompanying heatwave isn’t doing the apartment any favors.
You’ve stripped off the oversized t-shirt you’d been wearing, and now rested in only your strappy, black sports bra, your legs making a “4” as you tried to touch as little of your own skin to yourself as possible. Bucky’s sitting at the desk across from the bed, doing his best to respond to Steve’s emails about their newest client—but he can’t concentrate.
Not when he can see the puffy, fatty curve of your cunt lips through the fucking fabric. Bucky’s half sure if he stares hard enough, the fabric might give a little, and maybe he’ll see even more. Your ass wiggles invitingly as you adjust a little, and Bucky groans quietly. You’re paying him less than no mind as you scroll through social media on your phone.
I have to respond to Steve about the security cameras. Bucky thinks uselessly to himself as he stares hard at the soft, tempting vee between your legs. Gotta okay the team for the install. You laugh softly at something before you sigh, dropping your phone as you pop up onto your knees. Oh fuck. You stretch like a cat, your perfect ass in the air and he can’t take it, pushing himself forcefully away from the desk as he storms over to the bed.
You squeak with surprise as his hands find your hips, yanking you backward. Your phone clatters to the ground, and your shrill “Hey!” is lost as he tugs at the elastic waist band of those tiny, godforsaken, perfect fucking shorts. He’s already hard, has been for he doesn’t even know how long, just from watching you.
“Shhh,” he says softly, and groans as he peels the stretchy blue fabric away from the pliant, round cheeks of your ass. “Teased me all morning in these fuckin’ things, doll.” He cups just underneath them, pushing up so that the soft flesh is compressed and then releases, watching mesmerized as it jiggles. “Fuck.”
Of course you’re not wearing any panties, and when he points it out, you giggle sheepishly. “It’s too hot for that, Buck.”
Fuck, he’s gonna ruin you.
He moves away just long enough to tug the offending garment down your thighs before settling between them himself. The bed is at the perfect height for him to nestle the thick, throbbing weight of his cock between your thighs, and he’s unable to contain the stream of curses that leak from his lips at the sight.
He pushes your thighs apart, and you let him, resting your head on your forearms as you peer cheekily over your shoulder at him. You wiggle your hips again, and you brush the curve of his belly. He’d been self conscious before, whenever he touched you, whenever any of his body touched yours. But as of late, that embarrassment has been fleeting, especially when he gets to focus on so many other riveting things—
Like the noise you make when he runs an appreciative finger up your damp slit. It’s amazing, how you get wet for him so easy, like you were made for him. He pulls away and you mewl in disappointment.
“Buck—!” Whatever words you were going to say die in your throat as his tongue sweeps up the same path his finger took, slipping between your folds with practiced ease. You’re spread open before him like a fucking buffet, and he doesn’t have the self control not to taste you. “God!” You exclaim, pushing your hips back toward his face. “T-thought you were w-working!”
“Can’t concentrate,” he mumbles from between your legs, thrusting his tongue into the sopping mess of your cunt. “Could only think about this.” There’s a flood of fresh slick against his tongue, and he grins against you, wrapping his lips around your clit. Fuck, you’re so perfect. He’s not sure how he got this lucky, how he managed to pull this one off, but the smell and taste of you on his tongue assures him this is real.
You keen when his tongue travels up to the tight ring of your asshole, your hands fisting in the pillows and sheets. “Bucky, oh fuck, I—” You’re close, he can always tell, the way your body clenches and your words seem to fail all at once. There’s no time for displeasure as the head of his cock pushes at you, and Bucky leans back to watch, openmouthed and cursing as his leaking crown splits you apart.
Bucky’s as surprised as you are when you cum as he enters, and he curses, going down to one arm as he hunches over you, riding it out. You’re clenching down furiously around him, wetness spilling from your sweet pussy down onto his length, his thighs, the bed. It’s everything he can do not to join you in shaking completion—only because he wants more. Wants to take you further, wants to fuck you till you’re screaming and crying.
“Such a pretty pussy, doll,” he growls raggedly, pulling out slow to marvel at your wetness on his cock. Your cunt’s like a wet fucking fist, tight and gripping onto him like you’ll die if he stays gone too long. You sob into the sheets and pillows when he bottoms out, his heavy balls tapping against your ass. God, he’s sure even if he didn’t move you could make him cum, feeling your wet-velvet walls pulsing around him.
“Fuckin’ hungry cunt,” he curses, his fingers sinking into the softness of your hips as he bears down. “Gonna feed her for you, sweetheart, don’t you worry.”
There’s nothing leaving your lips but useless, meaningless babble; gibberish screamed into the sheets as he fucks you. Bucky leans down to wrap his arm around your middle, pulling you up to press your back against his chest. Tears stain your cheeks, and your chin is wet with drool.
“Oh sweetheart. Fuckin’ ruined you, didn’t I?” He coos, cupping your chin with his vibranium hand as the other pins you against him. Again, you’re close again, and the thought fills him with delirious pride. Fuck, he’s so deep in you, it’s more than perfection, it’s heaven. And that’s before you part those pretty lips to say—
“Wan’ you t’fill me up, Buck,” the plea makes his cock throb as his grip on you tightens for just an instant. He’s not even sure he really heard it as he slams back into you, your overworked cunt still sucking desperately at his cock. He growls at you, his teeth scraping across the skin at your throat as he thrusts harder, faster.
“Say it again,” he snarls, biting down hard enough to bruise. You mewl, more nonsense leaving your mouth. “Now.”
“I—fuck, oh God—I want you t’fill my pussy up, Buck, please,” you whine, rolling your hips backward into his. He’s never heard you beg for it like this before, beg for his cock, his cum, and fuck it’s doing things to him.
“Didn’t know my girl was such a needy fucking cockslut,” he bites the words out harshly between thrusts, and you grip him like a vice, the rising crescendo of your mewls and whimpers spurring him on. He bottoms out inside you, and a hoarse sob is his answer. “Whassa’matter, baby?” He taunts, panting. “Fucked you dumb?”
Your body convulses as you cum again, your walls milking him until Bucky cums with a hoarse shout. Pleasure crackles electrically up and down his spine, and he’s dimly aware of the bruising hold he has on your hips as he empties himself into your cunt. When Bucky can feel his toes again, he releases you, and you sag slowly down onto the bed with a satisfied little moan.
Bucky reluctantly pulls his softening cock from you with a hiss, admiring the thick drips of his cum that flow from your swollen, throbbing cunt. He collapses on the bed beside you, and you snuggle up against his side, draping your thigh across his own and your arm across his belly.
“What brought that on?” You ask tiredly, drawing absent patterns across his chest. Bucky grins down at you.
“Those fucking shorts.”
“Do you not like the color?” You chirp innocently up at him. “I’ve got more.”
Summary: Bucky x reader. You order an oversized hoodie in the mail, and your teammates are obsessed with how cozy it feels, especially Bucky.
Word Count: 1.1k
Content Warnings: Pure fluff. Hugging underneath clothes. Avengers tower fic.
A/N: This fic is a request for the lovely @cherry-season. Thank you for all your support and patience these last few weeks, you're a star! And I loved writing this prompt! As always requests are open, just drop me an ask or inbox me if you have an idea 💜
"Oh. My. God." You stifled a laugh as you stepped in front of your bedroom mirror.
You had ordered an oversized hoodie from an online clothing store, but you didn't expect it to be this big. It draped off you like a bed sheet, the sleeves hanging several inches below your wrists, and the bottom falling at your knees like a chunky sweater-dress.
"I mean... the colour is cute I guess?" You chuckled to yourself, gazing over the cherry coloured fabric.
"Y/N! Foods cooking!" Natasha's voice bellowed up the hallway.
"Okay! On my way!" You shouted, still turning your body in the mirror - you looked like a fluffy penguin. But it didn't matter, dinner was almost ready and you needed to head downstairs. Throwing your hair into a quick messy bun, you grabbed your phone and made your way to the living room, dressed in your new attire.
As you approached the lounge, you heard a loud giggle erupt from Natasha, who was perching against the door, drink in her hand.
"What on Earth are you wearing Y/N?"
"Well..." you stuttered, laughing as you went on to explain how you came to be donned in what looked like a red king sized duvet with arm holes.
"You could literally fit a person under there!" Natasha exclaimed as she lowered her head, straightening up against your under layer of a vest top and black leggings as her body seemed engulfed by your hoodie.
You chuckled at her closeness - she was right. Your friend was well and truly wrapped in the fabric.
"Hey guys!" Nat called to the rest of the room. "You gotta try this!"
Turning to face the others, you saw Wanda sitting at the small coffee table, and Tony watching television with Peter seated next to him, phone in hand. To your right, your two best friends Bucky and Steve, sprawled out on the large sofa as they shared the newspaper, catching up on the latest news.
You couldn't help but study Bucky's features as he shifted his gaze to you, following Natasha's words. He was one of your best friends, but you couldn't deny you were falling for him. His dark shoulder length hair framed his face as his piercing blue eyes found yours, goosebumps rising over your body, enamoured with your favourite super soldier.
His brows furrowed as he noticed your breathing hitch. You passed him a soft smile, a small gesture to say I'm fine, as you mentally kicked yourself for being so obviously affected by his company. You were sure he noticed. But it was Bucky, and with you, Bucky always noticed.
"Lemmie try!! It looks super toasty under there!" You broke out of your thoughts at the sound of Peter's voice. Padding over to you, he stuck his head inside your hoodie like an excited puppy. Tony was right, this kid really had no chill. Chortling against your under layer, he wrapped himself like a cocoon, only to emerge after a few seconds with a wide grin.
"Wow, Y/N, you need to wear this more often! You're like a walking radiator!"
Heading over to the last empty space on the sofa, you lay down next to Steve, who curiously peeked over his newspaper to catch a glimpse of the hoodie that had been causing such a ruckus.
"Oh, to be fair Y/N that does look cozy..." he smirked.
You sighed and shook your head with raised eyebrows and a half smile. "Go on then, I know you want too."
The Captain gave a low chuckle, and slid his hand respectfully under the cotton material, careful not to make contact with your skin or under layer. "Woah, it really is like a heated blanket under there."
"Hang on, I gotta try this." Wanda's voice echoed from the other side of the room, as she stepped over to you, squeezing her slim form on the sofa as she moved to face you. In true Wanda style, your friend ducked underneath your hoodie, enveloping you in a tight hug.
"Oh my God Y/N." Her words vibrated against your tank top, causing a giggle to escape your throat. "Tell me I don't have to leave. This is so snuggly."
"Wanda!" You yelled between laughs. "Get out you're making me ticklish!"
As Wanda returned to her seat at the coffee table, Natasha's voice rang out once again.
"Tonyyyy!" She sang. "C'mon you gotta try this."
"Nope. Absolutely not."
"Um..." The sound of someone clearing their throat caught everyone's attention, and all eyes reverted back to... Bucky. "I-I'll try..."
Your heart skipped a beat as your best friend crawled across the couch, positioning himself at the edge of your new hoodie. Looking up at you for confirmation, you nodded sheepishly as he lifted up the material, and nuzzled his head against your torso.
Attempting to remain calm, you focused on taking some deep breaths, knowing full well that if your heart rate increased, Bucky would certainly feel it with his body pressed against yours.
"Mmm" The vibrations of his mouth sent shivers down your lower half. "I could stay here forever doll..."
Unable to contain the smile that crept onto your lips, you sighed in comfort. The look on your teammates faces seemed to share your sentiment, watching you with compassion and smirks of contentment.
"He's like a koala, isn't he?" Wanda whispered delicately, taking in Bucky's beefy physique, gripping to your torso like a baby bear.
Gazing upon the covered brunette with adoration, you began to smooth your fingers over the outer material of your hoodie, placing soft strokes and scratches to the area where his head was underneath.
His breathing began to sound regular and slow - relaxed. Internally cheering, you took it as a sign that he felt comfortable and became more generous with your soothing movements, Bucky's hands now snaked around your waist as he lay consumed in your hoodie.
A few minutes passed, your friends catching your eye with furrowed brows, as Bucky remained still, seemingly rooted to your midsection.
Soft snores escaped the sergeants lips as you felt his grip on you tighten. He was asleep. The man you love had fallen asleep on your chest, and it was even more adorable than you could have imagined.
"Uhhh, shall I wake him up?" Steve offered, concern lacing his tone.
Your gaze drifted to your Bucky, sleeping soundly against your warm form. For once, it seemed like all his trauma, all his fear, had subsided to be replaced by a reassuring, deep embrace. All because of you.
"No, no." You shook your head and smiled. "He can stay here for a while..."
Suddenly, your oversized hoodie didn't seem like such a joke anymore.
Helloooooo can I request a Pietro x Fem Reader smut?
I read your other Pietro smut and OMFG WHEN HE WAS SPEAKING SOKOVIAN😩
Anyway, my request is that the reader is Tony’s daughter. So it’s late at night and she goes into the kitchen to get water or something and finds Pietro drunk. One thing leads to another and the reader is sitting on the counter with Pietro standing in between her legs kissing her neck and whispering things in her ear in sokovian. And then just sex. On the kitchen counter.
This was a dream I had lmao. Love your writing❤️
sokovian vodka - p.m.
pairing: pietro maximoff x fem! stark! reader
summary: after running into a tipsy pietro in the middle of the night, you find it awfully difficult to resist his advances. especially with that accent of his.
word count: 3,104
tw: SMUT!!!! both parties are 18+.
a/n: hi anon! thanks for your request! i hope you don't mind that i changed it so pietro was just a little tipsy, only because people can't give full consent when drunk, and i want it to be fully consensual on both ends. hope you understand! <3
LIVING IN THE AVENGER'S COMPOUND had it's perks. For one, it was gigantic, and had rooms that even you, the daughter of the guy who owned it, had no knowledge of. You barely had the entire place memorized, but places you for sure knew the place of were your room, your dad's room, and the kitchen.
You know when you make up in the middle of the night with an unquenchable thirst? Well, when you opened your eyes that night at 2 in the morning, you were sure you might die of thirst. You deliriously dragged your slipper-covered feet across the cold floors of the compound on your way to the kitchen and sleepily flickered the light on, but what had made you jolt wide awake was the sight of none other than Pietro Maximoff. With a bottle of Vodka in his hand.
His eyes drifted to you, his lips curling up into a dopey sort of grin. You rubbed at your eyes childishly to see him better, and upon a closer glance, you saw that he was clad in blue-and-silver pajama pants, paired with a white tank top that you were sure might tear in half from how tight it looked.
"Dragă!" he hiccuped, a tuft of his silver-dyed brunette hair flopping over his forehead. You smiled. "What're... what're you doing awake?"
"M’ thirsty," you replied, your voice sounding groggy as you crossed the kitchen. Reaching up into the cabinet for a cup, you heard him pick up the Vodka bottle again. "Why're you drinking at..." you checked the clock on the microwave. "Two in the morning?"
Pietro shrugged unconvincingly, pouring a very small amount of alcohol into the tiny shot glass in front of him. You stared at him, raising an eyebrow, to which he sighed and said, "Had a dream that... woke me up. S'okay, though."
"Is that... Sokovian Vodka?" you bent down to read the label, failing to do so due to it being in the foreign language that you could not understand. Pietro lifted up the shot glass as though to say Cheers! before downing it in one go. You brought the bottle to your nose, sniffing it, before cringing. "Ugh, Pietro, this is strong as hell."
"Exactly," he winked. You gave him another pointed look, placing an ice cube into your water. He pursed his lips and gave in without trouble. "Okay, I'll put it away."
"Good," you said firmly, hopping on the top of the island counter and swinging your legs. He got to his feet and crossed the room in three strides, stowing the alcohol in the top of one of the cabinets. You blinked twice at him; the elastic of his pajama pants was slipping a bit, the defined bones of his muscular hips peeking out and making your brain go fuzzy. "Y'know... Dad would kill you if he found out you were drinking so late."
"It's Wanda and I's vodka," Pietro said matter-of-factly. "So."
"It's his house, technically," you pointed out. He blinked, leaning against the back of his chair and staring at you, his steel blue eyes dilated. "Just sayin'."
"I'm not drunk," Pietro told you pointedly, looming closer with slow steps towards where you were seated atop the counter. Your chest did a little flip but you kept your face stoic. "For one, I can't, cause' of my metabolism. Second, he'd have no way of knowing. Unless, of course... you told him."
"M' not gonna tell him anything," you said, eyes flickering over his approaching figure as he drew nearer. "Although, it'll be hard to resist telling him that you were drinking alone..."
"I’m not alone, Dragă mea, you’re with me," Pietro said, standing merely a foot away from you. You stared at him, the white and brown curls of his hair tucked by his ears and hovering above his brows.
His piercing blue eyes were trailing over your face, over your bare shoulders, your torso covered only by the tank top you fell asleep in...
"You should — uhm — you should get back to bed," you stammered as he took another step forward. "That vodka'll go right to your head."
"My head feels fine," Pietro told you quietly. "But, on the other hand..."
He reached out, taking ahold of your right hand with his own, calloused fingers wrapping over yours and bringing your palm to rest right over the center of his chest. You paused, before you began to feel the fast-paced thumping of his heart. You had the thought that perhaps it was always moving fast, but by the look on his face, that wasn't the case.
Eyes shifting to meet his again, you made no sound of rejection when his free hand came to rest on your upper knee. A rush of butterflies traveled up your stomach and into your chest at the touch, and when he dropped his other hand to go to your other knee, you kept your hand on his toned chest.
"You feel that?" he muttered. You nodded meekly, and before he could say something, you took ahold of his head and brought his palm to press against your chest, right above where your heart was. His brows rose a bit, his lips twitching up.
"You feel that?" you asked in a soft voice, and he nodded his head. He took a steady inhale, the hand still on your knee just barely moving upwards as the hand on your chest swished up to your face, where he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
"My dream was about you," he murmured. You felt a flip in your stomach.
"What was it about?" you asked him carefully, steadily parting your legs so he could step in between them. He did so, the hand on your knee now resting on your upper thigh, his thumb rubbing very faint circles in the plush skin. His face had suddenly turned very red.
"Can't say," he whispered almost bashfully. "It's... well, I can't say it."
"Just say it," you smiled softly, gently lips curving up. "Can't be that bad."
Pietro shifted his eyes to you, looking pensieve, before he brought his other hand down onto your shoulder, dragging it down your arm and forearm, before latching it onto your upper torso. He leaned closer to you, moving his head so he could whisper to you.
"Te-am sărutat," he whispered in your ear, breath grazing against the skin of your neck, causing a shiver to travel up your spine. "Și am făcut dragoste cu tine."
He let the words hang in the air, and with how close he was, you could practically feel his heart pounding; unfortunately, you really hadn’t the slightest clue as to what he said to you. All you knew was that it had made him really flustered.
“Tell me more,” you muttered, pressing yourself closer to him. You felt his lips graze the upper part of your neck, sending tingles up your chest.
“Mai întâi mi-am folosit degetele,” he began, pressing a very light, almost ghostly kiss to your pulse point. You felt a hooking in your naval, like you had missed a step going downstairs. “Ai fost atât de... Reactivă.”
“Hm,” you said, feeling his hair brush your jawline as he trailed further and further down closer towards your lower neck, inching towards your collarbone.
He then went back up, towards your pulse point, and there was a moment were the feeling of his nipping made your breath hitch; he paused, and you felt his lips curl up before diving back down again.
“Wish I knew Sokovian,” you breathed, letting your head fall back and your lips part as he continued to kiss at your neck. He gave a deep chuckle. “I wanna know what you said.”
“I can show you,” he murmured, lifting his head up off of your neck so you were face to face again, your e/c eyes locking with his steel blue iris’, long eyelashes making his eyes look half lidded as his pupils dilated. You blinked once, gaze unashamedly shifting down to his lips, before you nodded.
“Okay,” you breathed, inching forward just barely a fraction of a centimeter. Your lips brushed his, and he leaned forward, noses brushing as he dragged his lips to just graze over yours. Your heart was threatening to pound out of your chest, and it wasn’t until you felt his hand cup your chin, thumb running over your bottom lip, that he pressed his mouth to yours and kissed you.
Your shoulders relaxed, melting into his touch as he pressed him self closer to you as your lips began to move with his. He moved his hands down, one pressing onto the back of your waist to pull you in, and the other resting on your thigh. It remained still for a moment before it moved, fingers clenching around the plush skin of your thigh and teasingly moving up and back down again.
You felt the muscles of his arm twitch around you, his grip becoming stronger as his hand pushed your torso to be pressing against his. His heart was practically beating alongside yours, chests heaving against one another.
“Tell me more,” you murmured after pulling away, heaving in oxygen to fill your aching lungs. “About your dream.”
“Mm, Nu am vrut să mă trezesc, asta e sigur,” Pietro sighed contently, his voice gentle and yet filled with something that felt like desire. “But I think I prefer real life.”
He tightened his grip on your thigh, dragging his hand further up so it was almost resting in the dip of your thigh and hip met. Your breath hitched in your throat, and your eyes flickered up to his face, down to his hand, and back up to his face.
“Is this okay?” he asked quietly, lips grazing against yours. “I might be coming on too strong—”
“Yes,” you said breathily. “It’s more than okay. As long as my dad doesn’t know.”
The corner of Pietro’s lips twitched up into a sort of half-smile half-smirk before he sped to the door, clicking it shut at top speed before running back to you. He had gone so fast it had felt like he had never left your embrace in the first place.
“Fine with me,” he murmured happily before kissing you again, running his hands up and down your thigh as though testing the waters. A shiver travelled up your spine, and as his other hand went to the other thigh, you opened your mouth to let his tongue slip in, tangling and dancing with your own like two dancers waltzing in an empty room.
His fingers, warm and tender, slipped underneath your tank top for a moment before sliding further down and playing with the elastic of your pajama pants. His fingers gently dove down underneath them; you felt the pads of his fingers run along the hem of your panties, fiddling with the blend of cotton and lace as though it were merely something in his way.
“Lift up, Dragă,” he told you, to which you swiftly lifted up your hips, letting him slip the pajama pants down your legs until they bundled around your ankles; you shifted your feet around to shake them off, and they fell to the floor with a poof. There was a moment where he had paused, unmoving, fixing you with his eyes and dragging his dazed stare across your skin.
“Piet,” you breathed, bringing a hand off his shoulder and up through his hair to snap him out of his head. His steel blue eyes shifted back up to meet your e/c gaze, before he gave another dopey smile.
“Sorry,” he told you sheepishly, moving his hand downwards and curling his palm before cupping it over her sex and rolling his fingers. You shuddered in pleasure, back arching for just a split second. He smirked. “Got a little distracted, y’know?”
“Mmhm,” you nodded, wanting to give him a playful glare but not being able to hold it for very long considering his fingers were putting such a sensually intense pressure on your core. He dragged the point of one finger up and down the clothed slit, watching in awe as you twitched and squirm around before him.
“You’re so cute,” he chuckled deeply to himself, his long fingers slipping underneath the fabric of your thin underwear to run along your folds.
He had shifted his thumb so it pressed firmly against your clit, eyes flickering up to look at your facial expressions every so often. Your hips involuntarily bucked forward as he circled his thumb, eliciting a rather smug look from him.
Little moans and what sounded like whimpers were slipping from your lips, although you were having a very hard time containing the volume of your sounds due to the constant worry of someone else in the compound hearing. God knows you’d be mortified if your dad stormed in.
But when he slipped a finger into you, the moan that escaped your mouth was loud and shameless, and when you saw his brows jump up in pleasant surprise, you took your other hand and bit down on your knuckle.
“Oh, no!” Pietro laughed to himself, taking your knuckle out from in between your teeth as his other hand continued to drill inside of your cunt, thumb rubbing in fervent circles around your clit. “Why’re you hiding them? I wanna hear you, go on.”
“People are — are — sleeping —” You choked out, breathing turning heavier than you had expected. “Don’t wanna — don’t want them to hear—”
“The door’s closed,” he pressed further, pressing a kiss to your pulse point before saying quietly, “Don’t hold back, okay? I wanna make sure I’m doing my job right.”
His whispered elicited a whine to slip from your lips that had fallen open in an O shape in pleasure. His finger pumped faster, to which you let your head fall onto his shoulder again, panting. Another quieter whimper-like moan slipped out, wordlessly begging for the release that was building up inside of you.
“Pietro,” you breathed, bringing your hand down the divets and curves of his toned abdomen before tugging brainlessly at the elastic waistband of his pajama pants. His eyelids suddenly plastered themselves open, the whites of his eyes turning round. Your fingers mindlessly grasped at the hardness of his erection. Babbling, you mumbled, “Please — need —”
“Are you sure?” he asked, and you felt him grow harder under your needy touching. You nodded desperately, needing something more than his two fingers to fill you. “You’re positive?”
“Please, Piet,” you babbled. “Please, please, please —”
“Okay,” he breathed, taking one hand off of you and tugging at his pajama pants. He slipped his fingers out from inside you, and you hissed at the sudden cold and emptiness. It was replaced by a delicate throbbing as you watched him drag his boxer briefs down his muscular thighs.
He stood completely vulnerable before you, his left hand moving to pump at his cock for some form of relief as he made his way back towards you, blue eyes flickering around your eyes as though to ask for consent again. In reassurance, you grasped at his hip and pulled him closer to you, and you shivered at the feeling of the red, leaking tip of his cock pressing against your inner thigh.
He dragged the tip along your slick to lubricate it, but his eyes seemed worried. You blinked at him and said, “I want this. This is more than okay.”
“Just making sure I’m not still dreaming,” he gulped, and with a deep breath he pushed only the tip of himself inside of you. You gasped and clenched around it, and with a trembling inhale he said, “Really hoping I don’t wake up if I am.”
“Rather dreaming than drunk,” you quipped. He sent you a look and pushed himself further in. “Oh— fuck!”
He bottomed out with a single thrust, his lips parting in a shuddered gasp as he dipped himself downwards to kiss you again, grinding upwards into you a though he couldn’t help himself. Hips rutting against yours as his tip grazed along the spongy tissue of your g-spot, the feeling of being full overwhelming you so greatly that you bit onto your knuckle again to muffle the volume of your moans.
“God, keep going,” you whined. He groaned and picked up the pace, beginning to thrust into you so fast you were wondering how he managed to keep it steady, not how he managed to hold himself together for so long. “So good — it’s so good — please don’t stop —”
“You gonna come?” he breathed, desperate moans for release slipping from his lips as he continued to grind up into you. Your walls clenched fervently around him, your slick dripping down the insides of your thighs. “You’re close, aren’t you? Go on — come around me — wanna feel you —”
Eyes fluttering into the back of your head, you arched your back even further as whimpers of his name slipped from your lips like a prayer, hips jerking into him as you came down from your high. He pulled out suddenly, hand latching onto himself to relieve the pressure building up, and with his head falling back and his eyes rolling, he came over his hand and over your thighs.
“Sorry,” he breathed sheepishly when he came back to his senses. You breathily laughed, leaning back on the counter with your palms against the granite. “Er — I’ll get a paper towel —”
He reached over to the side and pulled out a series of paper towels from the holder, running them under warm water before bringing them back over and running it over your thighs to clean them off. You watched the arms of his shoulders flex as he did so, before he brought them over his hands and stomach.
“What?” he asked you, eyes meeting yours after catching you staring at him whilst he pulled his pants back up over his waist. You shrugged.
“Nothing,” you answered. “You’re just... nice to look at.”
“Says you,” he quipped, bending down to grab your pajama pants. You stared at him more while he brought them over your ankles and up over your legs. “Lift your hips?”
“Next time a dream keeps you up, come to me instead,” you advised him. “Not the bottle of sokovian vodka, okay?”
“After this?” Pietro playfully scoffed. “I’d take you over a drink any day!”
“Good to hear,” you grinned. “Follow me, then.”
"Te-am sărutat." - I kissed you.
"Și am făcut dragoste cu tine." - And I made love to you.
“Mai întâi mi-am folosit degetele.” - I used my fingers first.
“Ai fost atât de... Reactivă.” - You were so... reactive.
“Nu am vrut să mă trezesc, asta e sigur.” - I did not want to wake up, that’s for sure.
a/n: this is unedited. it’s super late and i’m still feeling jet lagged from my trip but i really wanted to get this own. i hope you liked this, anon!
Summary: Zemo gives you what he thinks you deserve. *Some TFATWS Ep. 3 Spoilers.*
Pairing: Zemo x Reader (Female)
Warnings: Smut for days baby. Dirty Talking, Possession, marking, Soft!Dom Zemo. 18+ Only.
Word Count: 4.2K
A/N: Look we all know we're walking dangerous territory, simping for a war criminal. But Sugar Daddy Zemo got me feeling some type of way and also, Daniel Brüle is hot asf. Also, I don't actually know german so pls if it's off just blame google translate, I just have an insatiable language kink and I needed the pet names more than air itself. I thought about making this a chaptered fic, but I barely had the time to write this, never mind chapters of it before he likely fucks over Sam and Bucky next episode. Anyways, enjoy!
Here’s the thing.
You knew he was dangerous. You knew his past, the EKO Scorpion kill squad and everything with the Avengers, manipulating them and breaking them up from the inside. He was smart, unpredictable. You knew there was a very real potential that you could be hurt - or worse - if you went down the road.
And maybe, in a past life that would’ve been enough to stop you. But you weren’t who you used to be. You liked playing with fire now, inviting danger and chaos rather than straying from it. You had lived in - hid in, was more accurate - Madripoor for a handful of years now. You laid low, kept yourself under the radar of the Power Broker and those who worked for him. This way, no one bothered you and you could live fragments of a normal life, Trading and bartering to make a living. But living this way, like forgotten trash on a sidewalk, got old.
Maybe that’s why when you caught his attention, you didn’t shy away from it.
It had happened so fast. You were dancing, just intoxicated enough that the rubbing of strangers' bodies against yours was not just welcomed, but encouraged. So encouraged that when a new body, tall and firm behind you, took the place of another, you didn’t hesitate to back up into the warmth. His hands gripped your hips tightly, not stopping or guiding you, just resting. Turning your head slightly to see what your new dance partner looked like, you startled a little seeing the Baron.
Helmut chuckled, a low sound you felt rather than heard, and ducked his head down to speak into your ear, “You know who I am.”
You let your body relax back into his, feeling reckless enough to bless the menacing man with your flirtations, your head falling back onto his, “I’ve heard a thing or two.”
“And yet you trust me to hold you like this,” his hands flex on your hips, just hard enough to show the strength they hold, “Like a lover.”
You grab one of his hands, leading it down to your upper thigh where your knife holster sits, never once letting his hand leave your body.
“If I didn’t want you touching me, you’d know it, Baron.”
The gust of breath you felt against the side of your neck and the large hand gripping your thigh had shivers rolling pleasantly down your spine.
“You are far too beautiful to reside in these undergrounds,” he spun you around in his grasp, allowing you to get a good look at his face, “A woman like yourself should be treated with the most expensive riches, the finest wines. She should drain a man of his earnings.”
You laughed, not expecting the words that came from his mouth nor how handsome he was, even this close, “Point me to the man who’s willing.”
He smirked at you, but there was a smugness to it. A glimmer in his eye that suggested he had the riches and the desire to give you anything you wanted. You felt like you were drowning in his gaze, lost as you were under the heat of it. He looked somewhere behind you, pulling his eyes from you to nod once at whatever, or whoever, had stolen his attention from you. When they returned to you, the heat and desire were replaced with determination.
“It is with great regret that I must leave you, for now,” He captured your hand, bringing it up to his lips, the softness of them brushing lightly against your knuckles, “I can get you out of Madripoor, give you a life you deserve. If you meet me tomorrow morning, the airstrip.”
The world felt like it froze around you. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you. You couldn’t trust him. You Shouldn’t trust him. But as you stared into his eyes you saw nothing but honesty.
“And if I don’t?” You ask, just to buy yourself some time.
His hand travels up your arm, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger securely, “I will not pressure you. I’d leave you be, but the ghost of you would haunt me, schatzi.”
And with that, he was gone. Leaving you with nothing more than your thoughts, mentally preparing how quickly you could pack your things and leaving Madripoor behind. After all, you’ve always loved taking risks.
The next few weeks were a blur. Zemo was laying low, but his form of laying low was still luxury to you. It was private jets and upscale accommodations, not to mention that he was a man of his word. He spoiled you. Within three days of being in his presence, you had acquired a whole new wardrobe. Your suitcases - also new - were filled to the brim with the fanciest and latest fashion. You had rare jewels on nearly every piece of jewelry you owned. Maybe spoiled was an understatement. You’ve only dreamed of owning riches like these.
He had picked something particular for you to wear tonight, both of you making an appearance at some sort of party with some higher-ups. It was all laid out on the king-sized bed, a little black dress of sorts. It was short and sheer in its long sleeves, the sparkles in the fabric ensured that you would shimmer under any lighting. With a simple clutch, matching jewelry and a cropped, white fur jacket to keep you warm until you got to your destination. You looked good. You felt good.
He looked just as good. Sporting an outfit similar to the one you had met him in, instead choosing a dark red turtleneck to create a stunning relation between both your outfits. Nothing had happened between the two of you yet. Aside from lingering glances and innocent touches, he had been a gentleman. The chemistry was there, for sure. You were able to joke and talk with the man, matching his wit and charm every step of the way. And he loved it.
“Best behaviour tonight, schatzi.” He had said, low in your ear as you walked towards the venue.
You had smiled back at him, the perfect picture of innocence, “Always, Baron.”
And at the time, you had fully meant it. But you found yourself craving him. He looked too good, it honestly wasn’t fair. The way that ridiculous fur jacket draped over his shoulders, fostering a powerful ambience. And you knew he was faring no better himself if by the way his eyes were glued to your curves was anything to go by.
So, you decided, maybe you shouldn’t be on your best behaviour tonight. It’s not like you were making a scene or anything that would call too much attention. You were simply letting the alcohol take over your body. Whether that meant a hand on his thigh as you listened to the conversations around you, your fingers playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck or dancing a little too scandalously when you knew he was watching. You felt confident. And when you felt confident, you felt dangerous.
By the end of the night, you were teasing yourself just as much as you were him. You were pushing your luck, hands trailing a little too close to the bulge in his slacks, enjoying the way his facial features changed briefly in shock before settling back into that infuriating unmovable stoic impression. The last straw was you bending in front of him, having ‘dropped’ something from your purse. You only had to bend so much before the dress, as short as it was, had ridden up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your panties.
In an instant, he had you standing upright, thanking whoever he had been talking to for a wonderful night, tugging your dress back down to a respectable length and steering you towards the door by the back of your neck.
“That was not best behaviour,” he growled into your ear.
You giggled, despite the tight grip on your neck, “I was just having fun.”
He had done nothing but stare at you, eyes hard with a warning that had you rethinking your actions. You had forgotten, for a moment, that this man was not just someone to give you all the pretty trinkets you wore. He was a mastermind, a criminal mastermind at that. A man most deemed dangerous enough to be locked away.
“You have been bad tonight, kleine Schlampe.” He said once he had gotten you back to his car, away from the prying eyes and ears of the party guests, “You will spend the trip back thinking of ways to make it up to me.”
The words sent heat through your core, and you did exactly as he said.
By the time he had gotten you up to your accommodations, you had thought of thousands of different scenarios that could earn you forgiveness for your recklessness. You were uncertain if his words earlier had implied sexual favours, or if a simple, genuine apology was all he was looking for. However, once he had turned to you, the room door closing behind him and his eyebrows raised expectantly, you fell to your knees in front of him like it was second nature.
He chuckles darkly at you as he peels his gloves off, tossing them gently onto a side table nearby before letting one hand brush away the hair that had fallen in your face.
“Seems you are meine kleine schlampe indeed,” You had no idea what it meant, but fuck it sounded good coming from him. His eyes were hard and dark as he stared down at you, “If this is the path you’ve chosen to apologize, so be it. But not here, you are meine schlampe not a common whore. Get up. Go to the bedroom.”
You did as he said, quickly pulling yourself up to a standing position and walking to the designated room. The bed, so far, had only been used by you. He hadn’t wanted to push or pressure you into sharing a space with him. He understood that just because you decided to join him, didn’t mean you wanted to be with him. But tonight, you had decided, you wanted to give him your everything. You wanted to show him how grateful you were for all the gifts he’d given you so far. And if you couldn’t give him luxuries, you would give him your desire.
“So,” he began, nodding in approval at the way you resume your position on the floor in front of him, “Let’s begin with the basics.” As he talked, he rolled up his sleeves, doing so with precision, “Tell me, what exactly are you apologizing for?”
He commands every drop of your attention. There’s an aura to him that you had only previously caught a glimpse of. His eyes dark and locked onto yours, never once wavering. Waiting. Calculating.
“For teasing you.”
You take a breath, shame flooding your core at the answer that sits on your tongue.
“For embarrassing you.”
There’s a pause. He cocks his head, gaze softening just a tad. He's quiet for several moments, analyzing your words. Your heart starts to beat a little faster at the extended silence, thinking you’ve done something wrong and you can’t keep up the eye contact. You duck your head, averting your gaze to his feet.
“Look at me, schatzi.” His voice is soft, but still with enough edge to make you listen.
Only once your eyes meet his again does he continue.
“That’s very sweet of you, to be concerned about my image. But make no mistake,” He steps closer to you, letting one hand cup your jaw, tilting it upwards. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, “You could never embarrass me,”
You dip your head, nipping softly at his thumb. He smiles softly at you, something glimmering in his eye, “I simply just don’t like to share what’s mine.”
Your breath leaves your body at his words and suddenly the need for him to claim you had you nearly vibrating in your skin. You watch, every muscle in your body clenched tightly, as he walks slowly over to the armchair in the corner, never once taking his eyes off you. He sits, legs parted, one arm draped off the side, the other rested so he could prop his head up.
Instantly, you make your way over to him. Once in front of him, you stand up on your knees, placing your hands on his knees and slowly sliding them up his thighs. They continue its upward motion, skimming lighting over the hardness in his pants and reaching to start on his belt. You make quick work of his belt and buttons, eagerly working his pants and briefs down. He chuckles above you.
“Mein Schatz, so eager to apologize.” He purrs, almost mockingly, hand coming down to brush the fallen hair away from your face.
Once you had him free, you took a second to admire him. Your legs clenched at the size of him. Not terribly big, but big enough to anticipate the stretch, the fullness. Your eyes flicked back up, looking up at his through your lashes, leaning in but stopping just before you could actually get your mouth on him. The hand that was previously fixing your hair was now clenched in it, messing it up again and forcing your head back suddenly to look at him properly.
“It would not be wise to tease me more than you have,” he warned.
A smirk spread across your features and you quickly realized how much you liked him like this.
However, you knew you were on thin ice already. With that in mind, as soon as his grip loosened you licked a wide stripe up his length, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him fully into your mouth. The tension his body held melted the second your tongue touched him. His mouth dropping on a soft groan. His hand stroked your hair as you sucked, encouraging the bobs of your head, not forcing but guiding. You keep your eyes trained on his face, not wanting to miss a second of experiencing him like this.
He glows in the low lamplight of the room, the shadows playing across his features delicately. You like him like this too. Reduced to a heap of gasps and moans beneath the heat of your mouth. As you suck, your hands wander, up under the fabric of his shirt, nails dragging down his sides. He hisses at the pain, but doesn’t tell you to stop.
After a few minutes of your slow torture, he decides he’s had enough. His hand tightens in your hair, his movements becoming less gentle and more demanding.
“That’s a good girl, take it all for me.”
You do as he asks, taking a breath before taking him as deep as you can. He groans at the feeling, hips shifting a few times to test you before beginning to thrust in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches, but his eyes are on you and his thumb is tracing your bottom lip that’s stretched wide around his cock and you think for a second that you could spend eternity like this.
It’s not much longer before he pulls you off his cock, hand wrapping around his base tightly, “Apologies, schatzi. I am out of practice, and I fear I'm not quite finished with you yet.”
You laugh softly, voice rough due to your previous activity, “That’s okay, I don’t mind.” You insist, more than happy to let him finish like this. Whatever he wants.
He stops you before you can dip down again, standing up and taking you with him. For the first time, his lips are on yours. He overwhelms all your senses. His breath loud in your ears, his hands on your waist, his scent. His tongue slides against yours as he walks you forward, shedding his lower clothing as he goes. He only parts to give you an order.
As you do, he finishes undressing and it kills you that can’t see him. Just as quickly as the thought crosses your mind, it’s gone as you feel his hands at the top of your dress. He slides the zipper down, letting the fabric fall off your shoulders. You take the liberty of helping the sleeves the rest of the way down, the fabric falling down around your heels once you’ve done so. He hums behind you.
“Such beauty,” he whispers against your shoulder. His hands begin to wander, around your waist, up underneath the fabric of your bra, down to your thighs and ass. He chuckles, dragging your panties down enough that they too fall, forgotten at your feet, “I can hardly stay mad at you, liebling.”
Your head falls back onto his shoulders as he works your bra off next. You shiver, feeling bare and exposed before him. You want him more than you can express and you let your whole body fall back into his embrace, whimpering at the feeling of him, hard against the swell of your ass.
“Helmut,” you moan, one of your hands finding purchase in his hair as the other rests on one of his forearms.
“Tell me you’re mine, Schatzi. And I’ll give you anything you want.”
“I’m yours,” you say without hesitation, breathless as his hand dips between your legs, finding your clit. He hums, pleased at the arousal he finds there, “I’m yours. Only yours.”
He growls pulling his hand away from, “Lay back on the bed. I’ll be right back.”
You do as he says, positioning yourself in the middle of the bed. While you wait, you let your mind wander, listening to his rummaging somewhere in another room while your mind runs through everything you want him to do to you. At some point, your eyes must close because when you feel the bed dip, they open to see him crawling between your legs.
He’s done messing around, wasting no time before his face is buried between your thighs, hands maneuvering your legs so that they’re thrown over his shoulders, your heels crossing sweetly behind his head, no doubt scratching at his shoulders. Your breath leaves your body at the feeling of his tongue, warm and wet and fan-fucking-tastic. He alternates between dipping it in and out of your heat and flicking it against your clit. Your hand finds his hair, gripping it between your fingers and guiding his movements ever so slightly. His eyes don’t leave yours, spare for the few times he closes them to moan against you.
One of his hands move, leaving its place at your hip to sink two fingers into you. Your head falls back on a moan, back arching up when he crooks his fingers and finds your g-spot.
“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand gripping the pillow behind your head as you feel your orgasm rush towards you, “Fuck- Wait, I-”
You can’t even feel embarrassed about how easily your body has reacted to him. Before you can warn him much more, you're falling over the edge. Your thighs tensing around his head, back arching in pleasure as you ride out your high. In this moment you belong completely to him, unable to think of anything else.
“So sweet for me, liebling.” He comments, hands rubbing up and down your calves as you come down, taking a moment to unfasten your heels, letting the shoes drop to the floor before leaning back in. His lips brush against your inner thigh.
Then a bite.
“Such pretty sounds you make for me.”
And then he’s sucking harshly at the skin there, watching the shudder that rips through your sensitive body at the sensation. He doesn’t pull away until the mark is dark and flush against your skin. He continues this on the other thigh, on your ribs, your breasts and finally your neck, marking you thoroughly.
“Mine.” He growls, hot against your ear, “Mein schatz, will you let me have you?” he asks, and it’s literally all you can think about so you don’t even bother hiding the truth, the confession tumbling from your lips breathlessly.
“I’d let you do anything to me.”
He groans, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as he does so. He pulls away to grab the condom that he had put next to him on the bed and leaning back on his haunches to roll it on. You’re so impatient, nails digging into his thighs and arms, whining as you watch his hands work.
“So needy,” He comments, swallowing your moan as he finally, finally, sinks into you.
The stretch as he enters you has your head rolling back on a moan, your legs wrapping around his waist the bring him the rest of the way in. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, growling against the skin there.
“Fuck,” he groans through gritted teeth, his resolve quickly slipping at the feeling of you around his cock. And to his credit, he really tries to wait, to be good. But not seconds later he’s adjusting his grip on your hips and he’s thrusting into you with a force that makes the whole bed shake.
It’s barely been 30 seconds, but the build-up that had occurred throughout the entirety of the night had you right back on the edge, your nails clawing at his shoulders, his back, his thighs. Any purchase you could get on him, you were begging for more. You’d take anything he gave you without so much as batting an eyelash. His grip on your hips is tight and bruising, but the pain twists into a delicious pleasure that only spurs you on.
You must be speaking, babbling something back to him about how good it feels, how much you love being fucked by him because he’s laughing through a moan against your neck. He pauses for just a second, straightening up and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder before continuing to fuck you.
“That’s it Kätzchen.” He purrs, eyes moving down your body to where he enters your body, “Taking my cock so well.”
You mewl at the praise, your body arching in response to his words. Your second orgasm takes you both by surprise, having hit you like a fucking freight train when he thrusts particularly deep, hitting one of your sweet spots. You scramble for purchase on him, mouth dropped open in a near-pornographic moan that you’ll surely be embarrassed about later. But for now, all you know is pleasure.
His hips falter, stuttering as your walls tighten around him. His head falls back on a low moan, fucking you hard and slow through your release.
“Such a sweet cunt,” he gasps, “Mein Gott..”
And then he’s tangling your hands together, holding it high above your head as he pushes your thighs back, flush against your chest. He’s the one babbling now, words from God only knows what language, whispered against your skin as he chases his own release. He gives one last hard thrust and he’s done, his teeth dragging against the skin on your shoulder, moaning against you as he rides out his orgasm.
As you both come down, you stroke the back of his neck, playing with the hairs there, trying to catch your breath. After a few moments, he pulls away just enough to kiss you. There’s a lingering heat and it’s a little messy due to your shared exhaustion but it’s good.
Once you’ve both caught your breath, he removes himself from your body, taking the necessary time to deal with the condom. You watch him lazily, unable to do much other than that. You’re so tired. But there’s that ache between your legs that you love so much and you think briefly that you could go another round, if he wanted to.
He must see something in your eyes when he returns because he laughs softly, “I feel I may have my hands full with you, schatzi.” he says as he crawls back into the bed with you, covering the both of you with a blanket, the cold now biting at your skin. You know you have to get up soon enough to sort yourself out before bed, but for a moment you stay with him.
His fingers brush over your face softly, following the slope of your nose and the angle of your cheeks. There’s no real purpose to his movements, just... touching. As if convincing himself that you’re real.
“You are special, schatzi.” he says softly, “I don’t know what your plans are, but I can only hope that you choose to continue to bless me with your presence.”
This man is such an enigma to you. He carries such confidence in every aspect of his life and yet he still doubts your loyalties. There’s anxiety and pain hidden within him, you can see it in his eyes as he continues to look at you. You wonder, how much of his past weighs on his shoulders. How long before he deems himself worthy of your affection? You lean in to kiss him softly, your lips dragging slowly against him. When you pull away you keep him close, brushing your noses together.
after trying to save one of your teammates, the tva sends you to a desolate planet that seems to be full of loki’s
SMUT, fingering, some voyeurism, unprotected sex - basically just p w some plot
i wanted to write for president loki all day and i’ll probably write for him again. that is all. i took some creative liberties
tagging @fic-force-99 !! :)
One moment you were escaping off of the celestial planet of Ego and the next minute you were being abducted by people claiming you “violated the timeline” and “were to answer for your crimes”, whatever that meant. You were nervous to say the least as you made your way to judge Renslayer. As you were told that your rescue of Yondu Udonta violated the ‘sacred timeline’ and that he was meant to die. As you were pushed through empty corridors, shouting that the rest of the Guardians would be looking for you, you knew there was no way out of this pruning.
You submitted yourself to it as you felt yourself fade away, darkness being the only thing that surrounded you as the rest of the universe disappeared.
That was, until you felt air fill your lungs again. Until you felt light filter through your closed eyelids.
You jumped awake, looking around as you took in everything you could see. There were monuments from all different types of places and things. Things that were familiar but somehow felt wrong. But the one thing that really caught your attention was how alone you were.
Quickly standing up, you noticed how desolate the place you were was. Not a soul in sight, definitely no way to contact the rest of the guardians.
“So… I’m in hell.” You spoke, looking down to see if the devil had at least sparred you a cute outfit. Of course not, you were still dressed head to toe in ugly TVA prison gray and orange.
As you looked around, you noticed something moving in the clouds - and whatever it was, it didn’t look happy. Having dealt with your fair share of evil creatures, you knew the best thing you could do at this point was just run.
So you did. You ran until you couldn’t run anymore, until you found a building that strangely looked just like the White House and ran into it.
In your haste you didn’t notice that the walls were coated in green and gold, nor did you notice the other variants watching you as you sprinted into any place you could find. Not until you felt something grab your wrist and push you against a wall.
“Who are you?” The large man asked, a dagger placed directly against your throat.
“Your worst nightmare.” You muttered sarcastically, kneeing him in the stomach before continuing to run.
You ran right into a room with a desk that you could hide behind, only listening to your own breathing calm as you tried to decipher any noises that would come near you. You almost believed that you were in the clear until you heard the door open. Until someone sat down in front of you, until you felt them grab you by the wrists and pull you out from under the desk.
“What do we have here?” The gruff voice of a raven haired man questioned you.
“I know you’re a variant, before you try to explain.”
“Because I’m a variant too, we all are.”
Your gaze softened as you looked at the man, the panic seeming to leave you - mostly.
“Do you have a way out?”
He only laughed in response, releasing your wrists and allowing you to stand on your own.
“Of course not, nobody leaves this place.”
You finally took in his suit and horned crown. His “Vote for Loki” pin and his cocky demeanor.
“Who are you?”
“I’m President Loki, all those men out there are Loki’s too.”
You’d heard of Loki. Prince of Asgard, burdened by some sort of glorious purpose to rule. You’d heard never to cross paths with him, and now you were learning that you were surrounded by god knows how many versions of him? Maybe this is hell, after all.
“I’ll keep answering your questions if you answer mine.” he offered up, inching closer to you as you watched him with extreme caution. As Loki held his hand out for a shake, a devilish grin crossed his face as you took his hand within your own.
“Deal.” you responded, growing nervous as you felt his breath fan over your face, holding eye contact with you as you shrunk before him.
“Why are you here?”
“Apparently someone I saved was supposed to die.”
“Who did you save?”
“A member of my team.”
“The Guardians of the Galaxy.”
With how Loki started laughing you would have assumed that you had said the most hilarious joke he had ever heard. You watched in annoyance as he held onto his stomach and let out the biggest belly laughs he could manage.
“What’s so funny?” You asked, defensively as you grabbed him by the shoulder so he had to look at you.
“Let me guess what you all are… space Avengers? Destined to use your pull as heroic Gods to get free dinner at a restaurant and destroy whatever city you want?”
“No, we’re just a bunch of assholes who ended up on the same space ship.”
“Fair enough. What do you want to ask me?” He said, his ‘diplomatic’ side coming back. He was the ‘President’ after all.
“Where are we?”
“A place where all the timelines rejects get sent. Where space and time don’t matter.”
You sighed, knowing there most likely was no way for you to escape this place.
“If I can’t leave, can I stay here?”
He seemed to need a moment to think about it before a devious smile covered the man's face. His hand trailed over your neck and down to your breast, gently cupping you before leaning down.
Though you were shocked and nervous you made no effort to reject his efforts as President Loki connected his lips to yours, sucking your lip within his as he continued to caress your breast through your prison uniform and bra.
He pulled back, noting the way you clenched your thighs as he rubbed his hand over where he presumed your nipple was.
“I have been looking for a First Lady…” He trailed off, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth before he pulled back. Loki walked you over to his desk, pushing you against it.
You watched as green enveloped your body before your clothes were completely removed, and you couldn’t help but notice that the same happened to Loki’s presidential suit, his helmet being the only thing that remained on his body. Your eyes connected with his, before he reached a hand down to make contact with your clit.
You let out a moan, grabbing onto his forearm and feeling his muscles flex as he ran circles over your clit, mixing things up and thrusting two fingers into your pussy and curling them within you.
His thumb replaced his pointer finger as he roughly rubbed your clit, fucking you with his hand as if he was trying to pull your soul out through your orgasm.
“Poor little thing, so desperate.” He said, gripping your hips with his free hand to stop you from grinding against his hand. “You must’ve not been touched by anyone else for a longtime.” He teased, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheeks and forehead.
Just as you felt an orgasm building within you, Loki removed his fingers from your pussy. You whined, allowing him to bring his fingers into your throat and have you taste your own wetness. You were distracted by his fingers, so distracted that you didn’t notice his cock rubbing against you until he thrusted it inside.
Your head flew back as you let out a moan. You let him flip you over, your breasts pressed against the desk as he roughly ground his hips against yours, allowing you a moment to adjust to his size before setting a quick pace of thrusts.
You felt time slow as two men came rushing in.
“We heard-“ They stopped, upon seeing what was happening in front of them.
Any normal person would have stopped what they were doing to save what was left of their dignity. But Loki was not a normal person, and he had no shame as he continued to thrust his hips into you; pulling on your hair with one of his hands. And you couldn’t help the whines and moans that came from you as he fucked you on the desk, your eyes noticing the Loki variants in the doorway making no effort to cover the growing tents in their pants.
“If all- fuck -you wanted was to check- oh - up on me you’re free to go.” Loki said, shamelessly moaning throughout his words as he pulled you against his chest, continuing to fuck you senseless. Paying no mind to the way the men’s eyes trailed to your bouncing tits as they eventually left the room, presumably to go pleasure themselves.
“I don’t mind an audience…” you sheepishly admitted, growing embarrassed as you felt Loki laughing behind you before feeling him trail his hand over your front, beginning to rub your clit as he pressed a kiss to your jawline.
“I’ll remember that for later.” He said, in essentially a promise as he continued to fuck your sensitive pussy with his large cock.
You felt your orgasm building again, and you knew Loki did too as he roughly grabbed your jaw, turning your head to face his own, “Will you be my First Lady?”
“A-Always, I’ll be your Fi-First Lady always.”
He seemed satisfied by your answer, rubbing your clit faster and giving you the go ahead to cum for him. You whined out his name as you came, and you wondered if it was the use of ‘President Loki’ that made him cum inside of you seconds later.
In a moment you were dressed in a black, green and gold outfit and the man behind you was back in his suit. Both of you appearing completely clean from the previous activities.
“Allow me to give you the official, Presidential tour…”
Summary: Bucky is in love with you, but that will have to wait until after he saves you.
Word Count: 5.1K
Warnings: heavy angst, canon level injuries, mentions of blood, anxiety, happy ending I promise my loves
Bucky Masterlist || Main Masterpost
It was just supposed to be another easy mission. You were supposed to get in, grab the intel, and get out, the place was supposed to be abandoned, but it never worked out that way. Honestly, Bucky was surprised that you guys still expected there to be no one there even after the countless bases you’d found agents in.
Bucky didn't quite remember your last words before you got separated, but he remembered your look of determination as you led one group of Hydra agents away from him — he already had a group of three he was holding off while the hard drive finished downloading the files.
You should’ve been back by now, the three men Bucky fought were on the floor and the hard drive finished, but you were nowhere to be seen. Bucky was glancing over the floor, eyes quickly scanning the area for his comm that was ripped out of his ear by one of his assailants.
Once he spotted it, he gave it a quick look over to make sure there wasn't any glass stuck to it before pushing it into his ear, instantly trying to get a hold of you. He called your name three times, each more frantic than the last as he made his way back to the hall. When you finally grunted over the comm, a sigh of relief left his lips.
"Where are you, doll?" He started walking down the hall he saw you lead the agents down, stepping over broken glass and bits of the crumbled walls and keeping an eye out for any stragglers.
"Probably the — ugh — other side of the building. . ." you grunted out, hissing as he heard you shuffling.
"Are you okay?" He picked up his pace now, the place was huge. If you were hurt, he'd have to find you quick, and it wasn't going to be easy. The old hydra bases tended to be small mazes inside their walls. He'd have to search the whole building for you if you didn't know exactly where you were.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. . ." Your words came through slow, your breathing heavy as you cursed, thinking he wouldn't pick up on it.
"What's wrong?" He peeked inside a doorway, the knife from his leg at the ready, but it was empty.
"Honestly. . .I'm not too sure. . ." You mumbled, "There's a lot of blood coming from my stomach. . ." His heart dropped and he faltered in his steps. A shuddered breath forced itself from his chest. He promised to get you home safe, he told Steve that the two of you would be okay and could handle it while the rest of the team went after a larger base just on the other side of the city.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get bring her back in one piece,” He told Steve, as they watched you check your holsters, making sure they were secured in the perfect spot.
“I need you back in one piece too,” Steve looked at him with his eyebrow raised, and Bucky nodded.
“I know,” He sighed, pulling his jacket on, “We’re a great team, we’ll be alright.”
A knot of guilt started to settle in his stomach as he tried to will it away; you were still talking, he still had time. He picked up his pace more, jogging through the grey halls and skipping steps as he hopped down the stairways. He no longer cared to check for hiding Hydra agents, it didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was finding you. Where were you?
"Can you take a look and tell me what you see?" He needed to know what was wrong, where you were hurt. He needed to know how long he had to find you. Your huffs sounded in his ear as he heard you struggling to breathe, the sound making his anxiety even worse if that was possible, right before you gathered enough oxygen to reply.
"I can't see it too clearly, my visions a little blurry. . . But I remember a gun going off. . ." Your voice was strained and his heart rate spiked. He needed to find you now. His feet lulled to a stop as he came across three other hallways, leading in different directions.
"Doll, it's gonna hurt, but I need you to scream for me okay?" He heard you hum in acknowledgement before he pulled the comm out of his ear so your voice didn't rupture his eardrum. He figured if you could be loud enough, he could figure out which way to go. He waited for a moment, holding his breath to focus, his enhanced hearing waiting for your voice.
It was louder than he expected, ringing through his right ear as it echoed off the walls -- you weren't far, if he hurried, you'd probably be fine. Probably. He shoved the comm back in his ear as he rushed down the right hall, "I'm comin, doll," He grunted out.
"Should I scream you name next?" You teased, a soft laugh in your words as his ears burned red.
"You're trying to make a joke right now? Really?" He asked, finding it incredulous that you were giggling.
"Oh c'mon Barnes, s'funny," Your voice was losing its volume and he started to panic as he ran down the never ending hallway, only slowing down enough to peek inside each doorway to try and get a glimpse of you. Suddenly, your coughing echoed in his ears, but this time both ears. His eyes shot to the door the noise came from before he all but sprinted to its opening.
Peering in, he saw the three men you led away, lying scattered about the floor. All of them unmoving and silent as they surrounded your limp form on the floor, the top half of your back propped up against a dirty cement wall. Your head lolled as your glazed eyes lifted to see him, a lopsided smile gracing your bloody and bruised face with a small bit of blood in the corner of your lips, and though you were smiling, he felt as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs.
"Took ya long 'nough," You slurred and he rushed to your side, hands moving to your crimson covered ones. Peeling your cold, wet hands away, he gasped as the large gash that was oozing more red to flow down your hip to the floor. You had been shot, but it was at an odd angle so it tore at your skin and muscle across your stomach as it entered. He put your hands back to keep at least a small amount of pressure on your stomach before reaching around to see if there was an exit wound, but there wasn’t.
"Shit," He mumbled before standing and taking a better look around the room. There were cabinets, but upon opening them, he found them to be empty. He grunted before throwing you a quick glance, seeing you lazily watch him, your head rocking from side to side. He remembered seeing a pair of cabinets in the room just a few feet from the one you were in and he bolted out the door without an explanation.
He was lucky to find one long towel, haphazardly thrown in the cabinet and he could feel the corner of his lip lift in satisfaction before he made his way back. His small smile dropped when he saw your head tilted down to your chest and your hands limp, sliding off your abdomen.
"Hey!" He dropped to his knees next to you, grabbing the sides of your face and lifting your head. Your eyes were closed, but you were still breathing. He shook your head, "Hey!" Your unfocused eyes snapped open before falling half lidded again, a sleepy smile lifting your lips.
"Hi. . ." You tipped your head back, the back of your skull resting against the wall and he moved to press the towel into your stomach, earning a whine from you as your eyes screwed shut and you bit the inside of your cheek.
"Sorry, sweetheart," He mumbled as he pressed it in so it wouldn't fall, "Hold that okay?" Your hands replaced his as he moved to wrap his arms under your legs and behind your back, having to ignore the warmth that filled his chest from having you so close. "I got you." He lifted you with ease and adjusted you so your head was leaning against his shoulder, tucked into the side of his neck.
"Stay awake for me okay, doll?" He glanced down at you, seeing you nod. "How about you talk to me, yeah?" He asked as he started to make his way back to the back door he had kicked in when you showed up. "You could tell me about that date you went on last week." The thought of hearing about your date with someone who wasn’t him made his stomach twist, but he needed to keep you talking, so he pushed it aside. You huffed a silent laugh, your breath tickling the skin on his neck, goosebumps rising.
"Sucked," You mumbled, "Wasn't even my type." He hummed an apology as he bounded up the stairs, trying not to jostle you around too much.
"So, if he's not your type, then what is? Maybe I can help Nat find you someone," he didn't want to help Nat find you a partner, a boyfriend. He'd rather you went out with him, but he never had an inclination to believe his feelings were reciprocated, so he never asked.
Even when you did show the tiniest sign of being interested, he'd tell himself he was too busy readjusting to being in the 21st century, to being one of the good guys. He would push off asking you because who would want to be with the man who’s over a hundred years old? He didn’t think you’d wanna be with someone who’s got as much red on his hands as he does.
A snort came from you as he finally stepped out of the building and started up the trail to the waiting S.H.E.I.L.D. jet. Steve and the others took the quinjet, a larger group needing the space. He was cursing himself now for telling Steve that you two could run this mission alone. He didn’t think anything would happen, especially not to you. You’d been on countless missions before, undercover, recovery, you name it and you did it. No mission had ever had this kind of outcome before.
"M’type doesn't like me, don't worry 'bout it," your voice started to fade to a whisper and he rocked his arms, pulling a groan from you. "What'd you do that for?"
"Sorry, doll, gotta keep you awake," The jet came into view, and the weight in his chest lightened just a fraction, if he hurried, he should be able to get you back to the compound in time. You reached up with one hand, tremors running through your muscles causing it to shake, and poked his cheek as you mumbled about how he was being rude and could've just asked you to say something instead of jerking you around as he walked up the slanted door and placed you in the passenger seat. "I'm sorry, okay? Can you please stay awake." He placed a hand on your cheek, stilling your rolling head so you could focus.
You grinned at that, nodding and he released you head as he strapped you in before sitting in his own seat. "You need a co-pilot?" He shook his head at you as he started the jet, getting it to lift off the ground.
"No, I need you to keep pressure on your stomach for me," he gave a sideways glance as he got going in the direction of the compound. It wasn't far, maybe an hour away, and you seemed to be doing okay — you were coherent and awake, that simple fact giving him enough hope to be able to push off his anxiety just a bit more. He needed to be strong for you, you needed him to get you home, to get you safe. He wouldn’t be able to do that if he was falling apart.
As he made the call back to the compound that they needed to have Cho ready for you, he watched you in his peripheral vision. He watched as your eyes would glaze over for a split second before you would harshly blink, pinching your eyes shut before opening them wide. He could assume your vision was starting to blur, little black dots showing up in the corners of your eyes. He'd done that exact thing when he'd lost too much blood enough times to know.
"So, who's your type?" He asked again, earning a scoff from you as you turned your head to watch out the window, watching the clouds as you raced past them. He didn’t wanna know. He didn’t wanna know who had your attention, but he did wonder how they had it and didn’t even know it. How do they not know they have your attention when you’re you. You, the person who lit up a room just by stepping foot inside. The person who was so gentle, yet could take down three armed men, get gravely wounded, and still make a joke to get him to blush.
"Wouldn't you like to know," You whispered.
"Ah, c'mon doll. When you pull through, I'll talk to him for you," he teased you, shooting you a smile in hopes to get one in return though he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. You turned your head back to him and he could've sworn he saw the tiniest glimpse of hope flashing across your irises. "I'll even threaten him if I need to." He smirked at you and a giggle bubbled out of your chest at that, a lazy smile lifting on your cheeks. Even with the weight in his chest that got heavier every passing minute, your laugh made his smile genuine. If him even offering to talk to whoever you were thinking about made you sound that joyous in such a dire situation and made your eyes sparkle like they held little stars, he would do it a thousands times over.
"Ya promise?" Your words tumbled from your lips, slurring slightly and his smile faltered while his heart ached. You were running out of time. He made his promise as he looked back behind the seats, trying to spot anything he could use to help you until you landed back home. The jet was bare, meaning whoever took it on the mission or training run before hadn't restocked it — of course the mission you end up injured on is the same mission where you get the one jet that wasn’t up to code.
"Fuckin' rookies," he grumbled under his breath, taking a peak over at the towel on your stomach. The blood was starting to soak through, red blooming across the fabric, worsening the tight feeling in his chest. "Well, go on, tell me."
You hummed as you watched him, "Well, he's someone y'know," You started, turning your eyes back to the clouds, "Y'know'im very well," You slurred and he watched you with worry, all teasing gone from his posture. "He's hands'me, with pretty eyes, too pretty to be fair really," you giggled. He couldn’t help but huff a laugh that you were still so happy talking about whoever it was.
Your eyes were blinking slowly, your lips barely opening wide enough for words to properly form. But he could see the tension in your shoulders and your neck, the determination in your gaze, as you fought the drowsiness the best you could. He admired you for that, more than you knew. It didn't matter to you how hard things got, or how painful or impossible, you would always give it your all until you couldn't do anything at all.
"He's a lil' broody, sometimes," His ears focused on your words as he looked back out at the horizon, the compound coming into view. He was hearing what you were saying but it wasn’t registering in his brain. He was too focused on getting you home to really listen, "But, he's gen'l when he wan's t'be," He hummed as he spotted Cho waiting for you both on the landing pad, a gurney ready to take you to surgery. "He's been through a lot, but he keeps pushin' and he's come really far in becomin' who he wants t'be."
"What's his name, darlin'? I can't find someone without a name," He started the landing process, glancing over at you with your head tipped to the side, face turned to him with a light smile and a glossy waterline. The jet rocked slightly as it touched down, the loading door opening immediately.
Cho's nurses filled the space, pulling you from your seat, your grunts and groans of pain forming a lump in Bucky’s throat. He had to remind himself that they were there to help you and weren’t trying to harm you, even though with every pained noise that left your lips he wanted to lunge forward and take you to Cho himself. Your eyes never left his as they got you on the gurney and he waited for an answer, watching as they strapped you in.
"I need a name," He softly reminded you as they finished the last buckle, your smile dropped and your lip trembled, the first tear racing down your cheek. His heart was in his throat as they started to wheel you away, but not before he caught your finger twitch. His eyes shot to your hand and he saw your fingers loosely closed, pointing at him.
He froze, standing next to his seat as he watched you get wheeled away, your eyes falling closed. His heart twisted in his chest as allowed himself to finally feel the anxiety of the situation, the adrenaline worn off and his eyes blurring. He didn’t fight it as it washed over him, finally bubbling up too much to push back. It felt like someone was crushing his ribs as he tried to breathe, gasping as his body shuddered and his knees buckled.
He dropped to the floor of the jet, placing his shaking hands in front of him to hold himself up, Your blood was dried on his them, not even leaving handprints when he lifted his hands to wipe them on his pants, trying to get as much of it off as he could. He didn't know how long he sat there, trying to catch his breath, to stop the tears from running down his face. He couldn't lose you, you were everything.
You were the only one who didn't treat him like he could crack at any second. You didn't just leave him alone when he would shrug off your attempts to get him to hang out with you. Sure, you’d leave him alone for the day, but you'd be back the next. Most people took a week to try again — if they ever did. You never judged him for anything, never asked questions he didn’t want to answer. You would just be there, next to him, offering silent company when he needed it the most. Most the time, the two of you wouldn’t even say anything, like the nights neither of you could sleep.
The first time you caught him roaming the halls after a nightmare, you'd simply asked to join him on his walk and fell in step with him, too far for him to bump your shoulder as you walked, but close enough to be comforted by your presence. You'd ended up in the kitchen, each with a mug of hot chocolate as you told him about your insomnia, something you though you would grow out of but never could seem to fix. You offered to always be available in the middle of the night for a walk around the compound claiming it helped ease your too awake brain, and though he didn't take that to heart at first, he definitely did the next time he woke up gasping for air, his heart too wild to fall back asleep.
He tried to walk the grounds alone, he tried having a small snack before going back to bed. He even tried one of those meditation apps that Sam told him about, but that only made him more frustrated. Nothing was putting him at ease. He tried drinking the hot chocolate you hid from the others, but that didn't work either. His mind kept wandering to you, and soon enough he found himself in front of your door with his fist already connecting lightly with the wood.
It didn't take long for the door to open, you standing wide awake on the other side. Your confused gaze quickly turned worried as you took in his shaken appearance and you simply stepped aside, allowing him in. He silently stepped inside, seeing a paused movie on your tv. He heard your door click shut and he watched as you sat on the couch, patting the seat beside you. He slowly joined you, leaving a cushion between you as he leaned on the opposite arm of the couch.
He joined you like that most nights, to the point where you'd started leaving your door cracked for him so he didn't have to knock. There usually wasn’t much conversation, not more than asking if what you were watching was entertaining enough for him. But you two didn’t need words to feel comfortable. All he needed was you by his side. It was just an unspoken agreement that no one else knew about.
It was because of you he actually started trying to work with his therapist. He wanted to get better for you, he wanted to try and be someone new, someone good.
He stood from his spot in the jet, legs aching as he forced himself up, eyes puffy and a headache starting as his eyes felt strained. He needed to tell Steve, or Tony, or really anyone what happened. They needed to know. He made his way inside, telling F.R.I.D.A.Y. to send a message to the rest of the team that the mission went south and they should head back as soon as they can.
He wanted to head to the med bay to see if you were out of surgery yet, he needed to see that you were okay, but his gear was sticking to him, his chest practically soaked in your blood. It took everything in him not to just tear it off right there in the hall way. Instead, he quickly headed to his room, showering and throwing the suit away -- he’d get Steve to talk to Tony for him about a new one.
After he had the red scrubbed from his skin and he was dressed in sweat pants and a black short sleeve shirt, he grabbed an extra pair of his sweatpants and one of his long sleeve shirts for you to change into. He didn't want to go digging through your things but he also knew you hated the gowns they'd put you in, so his own clothes would have to do for now.
He made his way back down to the med bay and made himself as comfortable as he could be in the almost too small chair as he waited for an update. His leg was bouncing, a nervous habit he'd adopted from you after spending so much time with you. His mind was racing as exhaustion started to set into his muscles. The scene of you pointing your finger at him wouldn’t leave his head. Had really gone this whole time misreading situations?
He didn't know you felt that way about him, he wished he had known. He wished he had gotten the courage to actually ask you out instead of giving himself excuses as to why he shouldn't. The only thing he could do was hope you'd pull through so that he could hear you say it, because his brain wasn't going to believe it until you spelled it out for him.
"James," He woke with a start, his eyes shooting open to find Dr. Cho standing in front of him. It took a moment to realize he had fallen asleep, his body too tired from everything that happened to keep him awake.
"She okay?" He sat up as his heart started beating against his chest so loud he was sure she could hear it.
"She's gonna be fine, she's out of surgery and she should be waking up soon," He sighed a breath of relief, the knot of guilt shrinking -- though never leaving -- and the weight on his chest lifting so he was able to finally get a full breath of air. “You got her here just in time.” Cho smiled at him as he stood and lead him to the room you were in.
Your eyes were closed, the blood washed from your skin, and your breathing was steady, though not as deep of breaths as you normally would take, it was still strong enough for him not to be too worried. The swelling in your face had gone down significantly, leaving behind just a few spots of purple along your jaw. After thanking Cho, he placed the clothes at the foot of the bed and pulled up a chair next to you.
He laced his fingers through yours, slowly so as to not wake you, and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "You can't scare me like that again," he whispered, leaning back with his arm stretched across the mattress so he didn't have to pull his hand from yours. "I can't lose you, doll."
He wasn't sure how long he sat there, just watching you breathe, watching you be alive when you were so close to death just hours before. Not too long after he got comfortable, Steve and the team had returned. Steve came rushing in the room and Bucky had to shush him before he woke you. He explained to Steve what happened and the worried and almost fearful look that twisted Steve’s face made the guilt in Bucky’s chest grow. He felt like it was his fault, he broke his promise. Sure, you were home in one piece, but you almost didn’t come home at all.
Steve agreed to let the team know but to also keep them at bay until you were awake and ready. He also declared he was going to have a firm meeting with the rookies who didn’t bother to restock your jet.
It'd been an hour or two since Steve showed up when Bucky started to talk to you. Normally, silence was something he craved, even with you. But in that moment, all he wanted to do was to hear your voice, or your laugh. Hell, he would even go for you rambling on about your favorite tv show that seemed to change depending on the mood you were in. He figured if you couldn’t fill the silence, he would. He had so much he wanted to tell you, he figured he may as well spend this time practicing how to say it.
"If you didn't mean to point at me back there, I'm gonna be real mad at you," he chuckled to himself as he squeezed your hand. He sighed as looked at his hand, metal fingers laced with yours. Something that carried so much pain and so much blood, intertwined with something so incredibly delicate and soft and caring, but just as equally as dangerous.
"You're the only girl for me," He started, rubbing circles over your knuckles, "I wouldn't be where I'm at without you there to help me. I'm sorry I'm broody, I just don't really like people anymore. The only one I seem to not mind being around is you," He laughed to himself, "Even Steve gets on my nerves more now than before. But you. . . You make me feel things I haven't felt in so long. You make me feel important, understood." He was looking down at his hand now, the flesh one in his lap and he missed the slight movement of your fingers as he continued, "I'm in love with you, sweetheart." He grumbled out before sighing, "I can't lose you." A groan filled the room, but it wasn’t from him.
"Love me, huh?" His shoulders tensed as his eyes widened before he lifted his head slowly to find your eyes staring at him. You had a small smile on your lips and your eyes were slowly clearing their haze.
"You heard that?" He grunted, and you giggled, nodding gently. "How much did you hear?"
"Enough," you whispered, giving his hand a squeeze before weakly tugging on it. He stood, following your pulls and sat next to you, placing his other hand over the top of your entwined fingers. “You can keep going,” You smiled, “I’ll even pretend I’m still asleep, see?” He watched with a smile so wide it hurt his cheeks as you closed your eyes and let out a light, fake snore.
“I’d rather not. I’ll save myself the embarrassment,” He reached up, brushing his right hand across your cheek before gently cupping it, doing his best to avoid the bruises. “You scared me, you know that?” Your smile dropped at the corners.
“I’m sorry, Buck, I don’t know what happened,” He shook his head at that.
“It’s not your fault, doll. Just promise me you’ll be more careful next time? I can’t lose my best girl,” He grinned at you, “I wouldn’t be able to handle that.”
“Your best girl, huh?” Your grin was back as you leaned into his hand. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he fought to not close in on himself again. He didn’t want to go back to wishing he had you, he wanted -- no, needed -- you to know.
He nodded with a shaky breath as he thought of the conversation you had in the jet, “You’re my type, sweetheart.” Your eyes softened as you let his metal hand go, reaching for the flesh one that rested on your cheek, wrapping your fingers around it and giving it a squeeze.
"You're my type." You whispered.
He couldn’t stop the exhale of breath that escaped him in a small laugh. You laughed with him, wincing slightly at the pull from the stitches in your stomach and he squeezed your hand again, his smile dropping to a worried frown. "Do you need anything?"
You shook your head, never losing eye contact with him, "Just you." His heart swelled as his chest filled with a warmth he hadn't felt in so long it was slightly startling to feel it again. He nodded and leaned forward, placing his lips to your forehead.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Thank you for reading! As always: likes, reblogs, and replies are all appreciated!
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Summary: You and Bucky have a quickie on the couch while your children are napping upstairs.
Pairing: husband!Bucky Barnes x mom!reader (not shown but mentioned: two Barnes sons)
Word Count: 1.1k
Warnings: NSFW SMUT (18+, MINORS DNI), masturbation, bucky is h o r n y, praise kink, slight breeding kink, language. Reader can be any race!
bucky barnes masterlist
You plopped onto the couch, exhausted and overworked. Your children were finally down for their afternoon nap. Glancing at the time, you groaned at how it was only 2PM. In an hour, you’d have to wake them up and continue the day, but you basked in the moment, as it was the first time the house was quiet since 7AM. Your children were your world, there was no doubt about that. But every once in a while, you could feel the stressors being a parent brought. Some days were perfect, other days were filled with tantrums, yelling, and even hitting every once in a while. You had two boys, close enough in age to be best friends one minute and enemies the next.
“That bad, huh?” Your husband, Bucky asked from the kitchen, noticing how tired you looked.
“I swear, if they weren’t so cute…” You decided not to finish your sentence. You loved them too much, despite how stressed they made you.
Bucky sat next to you, bringing you in with his metal arm and planting a kiss on your lips. “When was the last time the two of us had a conversation and didn’t talk about the boys?” he whispered, moving his lips from your face to where your ear met your neck, the spot that drove you absolutely crazy.
“Oh god, I don’t even want to think about that,” you laughed, feeling your muscles relax.
“Alright then,” Bucky said in between the kisses he was planting on your neck, “Without mentioning the boys, how has your week been?”
You sat for a second, thinking about your week. Your schedule revolved around your children, so it was rare you had a moment to yourself. Even moments like this with Bucky were rare. You couldn’t even remember the last time you were this intimate with him.
“Well, I found a nice recipe I’ve been wanting to try,” you started, Bucky simply humming in acknowledgement as he moves down your neck, placing sloppy kisses on the top of your breasts. You started really thinking about how your week had been. Finding a recipe online you thought your boys would like, doing a shitload of laundry, and starting a new book (in which you’d only gotten through one chapter since you barely had the time to pick it up again). Nothing about it was sexy. Then you remembered all the times Bucky came home from his early morning runs. He insisted on waking up at 4:30 in the morning to do them. He’d come back at around 5:30, immediately stepping in the shower. You never got out of bed; the blanket was too warm and your body was still exhausted from the lack of sleep and energy you always seemed to have. But you’d always glance at him through sleepy eyes, feeling yourself get wet at the sight of his fit body. You really struck gold getting this man to be yours. You recalled one morning you managed to play with yourself while he was in the shower. You knew he was exhausted too, and he needed the shower to cool off after his vigorous run, so you decided against joining him. You played with your clit under the covers, quietly moaning at the memory of the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. You played with your breasts and thighs in the process, imaging his sweaty, manly hands all over you. Before you knew it, you came for the first time in what felt like months. “I got to touch myself after I saw you coming home from your run.” You whispered.
Bucky’s eyes went black with lust. “Oh honey,” he said, taking one of his hands and bringing it beneath the old leggings you were wearing. “Did it feel something like this?” he asked, bringing one of his fingers to your clit, making his movements slow and intentional.
You shook your head, staring into his eyes, “Your fingers feel better,”
He shot you a devilish smile, quickening his movements, “Good girl.” He praised, forcing a moan out of you. You were soaked for him, practically begging for him to rip off your leggings and underwear to fuck you. But Bucky always liked to tease. “Cum for me.” he said with a growl and you started grinding your hips against his hand. You noticed through his jeans just how hard he was, and the thought of him fucking you into oblivion forced a powerful orgasm to rip through you.
Bucky laid you down now, so that he was hovering on top of you. “You gotta stay quiet for me, alright? We gotta make this quick, Mama.”
It was almost embarrassing, the way your body reacted to him talking to you like that. It shouldn’t be legal for him to make you feel so good. He took off your underwear and leggings, admiring your dripping entrance. “Fuck, baby.” He said, unbuckling his belt and starting to take off his jeans with one hand and continuing to toy with your clit with the other.
You caught a glimpse at his hard cock, and despite all the years you two had been together, it still made you breathless. He grabbed your hand and put it around his cock, and you started pumping it before he moved to ease into you. It’d been so long, you almost forgot how good it felt to be with him like this. He almost immediately started to quicken his pace, focused only on getting himself off for a while. You didn’t mind, you already came, so you didn’t worry about it. You liked seeing him drunk for you, knowing only you could make him feel like this. He felt so good pumping in and out of you, though. “Just like that, Buck.” You said, playing with his hair as he quickened his pace even more.
He brought one of his hands that was holding him up to your clit once again, toying with the sensitive bud. He leaned down and gave you a naughty, sloppy kiss that you moaned into. “Only you can make me feel this good.” You admitted to him, which you could tell drove him even closer to the edge.
“Yeah?” he said, “Gonna fill you up with my cum, is that what you want?”
You nodded, and within seconds, he spilled inside of you. You couldn't remember if you’d taken your birth control that morning, but you didn’t care. Still inside of you, he kept rubbing your clit until he felt you convulse and tremble under his touch, knowing he made you cum again.
“Fuck,” he said, on top of you but being mindful not to crush you, “we need to do this more often.”
You were a mess, completely drunk on him. You brought your hands to his face and pulled him in for a long, desperate kiss. Breathless, you spoke. “I love you.”
Summary: You have spent your entire life scheming for Loki’s affections. Loki has spent his entire life protecting you from his darkest desires. In the game of love, who will win?
Note: Happy Loki Day! In honor of the Loki show, I decided to post my new favorite piece, a prequel of sorts to Do You Accept! Also, my first smut! I hope it goes well!
By Hook or By Crook Masterlist
As a child, you dreaded the day your mother dragged you to meet the Queen. Nothing sounded more boring than attending a Women’s Court and receiving the blessing of the Queen of Asgard. The women would sit and talk for hours and do nothing else! You stomped your foot and threw a tantrum, but none of it would stop your mother. The worst part was that it was sunny outside. Sure, it was sunny most every day, but today you could swear it was sunnier than usual. A day meant for playing outside.
You huffed a sigh as you looked out the window. The garden was right outside. Your mother always forbade you from entering the royal garden, but the flowers were so colorful and you could smell them from the window. You looked back at your mother, who was so deep in conversation that she probably would not notice if you were to sneak outside. Just for a few moments.
You silently snuck out through the window and ran into the garden before anyone could stop you. You ran through the flowers and stopped only when you were sure your mother wasn’t chasing you. With a soft giggle you looked around and admired the pretty flowers. Only the royals were supposed to have access to it. You knew you were breaking the rules, but you were too happy to care. You didn’t notice the pair of eyes on you.
Loki peered down from his place in the trees. He was sure Thor wouldn’t find him up here. Thor never thought to look up when they played hide and seek. Regardless he still held his breath when he heard footsteps approaching. Only, it wasn’t Thor. It was someone...new. A girl. He didn’t recognize her.
“Are you supposed to be out here?” he asked, momentarily forgetting that he was hiding.
You jumped and looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. You looked up and saw him. A boy, only a little older than you, sitting on a tree branch and leaning against the base of the tree. He was dressed in green and black. His black hair was pristine, not messy like a child who recently climbed up a tree. He looked perfect.
“No.” you answered honestly, “Will you tell on me?”
The boy grinned, his white teeth flashing at you, “No.”
You smiled back at him, “What are you doing up there?”
“I am hiding from my brother. Don’t give me away.” his voice became hushed.
“Where should I hide?” you whispered, looking around the garden.
“Come up here, with me.” He said, as if it were the simplest answer in the word.
“I can’t climb all the way up there!” you pouted.
“I never said climb.” his grin turned mischievous.
You nodded and suddenly you were surrounded by green smoke. You thought you should be scared, but you weren’t. You were excited to see what would happen next. Next thing you knew, you were sitting on the tree branch next to the boy. He extended a hand to you once you were settled.
“I am Loki, Prince of Asgard.” he introduced himself to you.
You introduced yourself, without a fancy title of course. You did not have one of those.
“Are you a princess?” Loki asked, tilting his head at you.
You shook your head, “I want to be one, but Father says that it is impossible.”
“That’s not true.” Loki scowled, “You just have to marry a prince.”
“How am I going to do that?” you asked.
Loki smiled at you brilliantly, “I’ll marry you! You can be my princess!”
Loki went quiet for a moment before swearing solemnly, “I will only marry you, Princess.”
You threw your arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. Loki blushed a little, but did not push you away. He couldn’t have if he wanted to. He was too busy trying to ensure his heart was continuing to beat. He could have sworn it stopped when you embraced him. Hearts should not stop beating, right? He was sure of it.
“I found you!” another voice called from below, “Wait, who is that?”
“She’s Princess Y/N!” Loki declared proudly as you giggled.
“A princess?” he asked, “Then I must rescue her! Knights must protect princesses from evil dragons!”
Loki frowned. He didn’t like the game Thor was suggesting. He didn’t want Thor to rescue you from him. He didn’t want Thor to take you away from him. Most of the other children preferred to play with Thor over him. He didn’t want you to be like the others. He was about to say something insulting when you hugged him closer.
“What if the princess prefers the dragon?” you called down.
“That’s not how the game goes.” Thor crossed his arms, staring up at you two.
“Then we can play a different one together!” you said, looking at Loki.
Loki nodded, surprised that you chose him. He smiled again as you began to list off all the games you knew that the three of you could play together. When he used magic to get you both out of the tree, you held onto his hand tightly. Loki found himself hoping you wouldn’t let go.
Hours later, your Mother’s panicked shouts filled the garden as she looked for you. She was accompanied by a few of the other ladies as they searched high and low for the missing child. None of the servants or guards had seen you since your mother brought you in that morning. All of the grown ups were relieved when they finally found you.
They found three children, napping under a tree. Worn out from hours of playing joyfully as only children can do. Even in your sleep, you held onto Loki’s hand.
“Did you like playing with Y/N today, boys?” Frigga asked as she tucked her sons into bed that night.
Thor and Loki nodded eagerly. Despite how different they looked in appearance, the twin gestures were enough to tell anyone that they were truly brothers.
“She taught us so many wonderful games, Mother.” Thor began to enthusiastically recount the tales of the day. Frigga smiled as she listened to him.
“What about you, Loki? Did you like her?” she turned to her quieter son.
“I love her.” Loki answered simply, “I’m going to marry her one day.”
Frigga laughed softly at that. Loki was a child and did not know the words he spoke. However, he spoke to them as if they were facts. The way a child who did not know the truths of the worlds would. In all honesty, she was happy that Loki finally had a friend. Thor had so many and Loki tagged along to play with them, but Frigga wanted to make sure Loki had something...someone of his own.
That was how you became a playmate of the princes. It was an unofficial title, but your parents had been ecstatic when they received an invitation from Frigga herself.
Your father told you it was an honor and that you must treat the princes with respect. He paled when you told him you bit Thor when he wouldn’t stop pulling your hair.
Your mother made sure you looked your best every time you went to the palace to play. She despaired every time you returned messy and covered in dirt.
None of that mattered to you, however. All you knew was that you got to spend more time with your daring princes, especially Loki.
“Why do you and Y/N always have to hide together?” Thor crossed his arms and pouted.
“Because I know all the best hiding spots. Y/N is new and I have to show her.” Loki answered smoothly.
“Y/N isn’t new. She’s been playing with us for years!” Thor argued back.
“She’s the newest!” Loki insisted.
“I know what it is.” Sif grinned, “I think it’s because you like her!”
The other children began to laugh and Loki felt his ears get hot. He hated getting teased by Thor’s friends, and he didn’t want you to join them. In a fit of anger, he grabbed your wrist and stormed away from the mocking laughter. You never pulled against him, happy to follow him wherever he saw fit to lead you. You even giggled as he dragged you deeper into the maze of flowers.
Once you arrived at one of his secret spots, Loki sat down with a huff. He was still upset from the teasing. You sat down beside him and wrapped your arms around him in a gentle hug. A hug that soothed his hurts. A hug that calmed his soul.
“It’s okay, Loki.” you whispered, “I like you too.”
Loki shook his head. You were too innocent to understand what Sif had meant. You could not understand why the teasing had affected him so much. Sif was right, and you didn’t know. You were the light in Loki’s life. You were the thing he cherished most. You couldn’t know how he felt towards you. He couldn’t let you find out. You were too good. Too pure.
Loki was young, but he knew he was born with this stain. A mark on his soul. It spoke to him every time he pulled a prank that went too far. Every time he felt the urge to hurt someone. Every time he wanted to pull you close and clutch you so hard you could never leave him. He did his best to be good, to not give into that darkness. Maybe that way he would be good enough for you. Even though he knew that would never happen. Who can be good enough for perfection?
“Show me a trick!” you demanded.
Loki knew it was your way of trying to take his mind off of the teasing, but he still could not deny you. He raised his hands and began to craft an illusion. He could feel your eyes focused on him. As if he was the center of the universe. He loved the attention you paid him when he showed you his mother’s tricks. The tricks he spent hours studying just so he could delight you. Just so he could make you laugh.
A small bird appeared in his hand. Delicate, but colorful. Your eyes widened as you looked at it. Loki could feel the rest of his anger melt away. Your joy was infectious.
“You’re amazing.” you giggled as you reached out to pet the bird. You frowned a little when your hand moved through it and Loki couldn’t help but laugh.
You’re amazing. Not the illusion. Him. Loki. He was amazing to you. You appreciated him, not just his magic. You looked through that and saw him for him. You made him feel special. Important. And he loved you for that. He would always love you for that.
“Another one!” you begged him.
And of course, he could not deny you.
As the years passed and childish games were pushed aside, Loki braced himself for the coming future. You were no longer the little girl roaming in the garden. You had somehow grown even lovelier in his eyes. Your beauty radiated for anyone around you to see. The innocent grins of childhood evolved into playful smirks. Smirks that haunted Loki’s best dreams. You garnered the attention of every young man for miles around.
Loki grit his teeth as he heard them speak of you. They talked about your eyes, your lips, your skin. None of them talked about your wit, nor your kindness, nor your intelligence. Their baser desires revolved around your body. The more noble ones desired your heart. But none of them desired your soul the way he did.
Thor, surprisingly, was immune to your charms. Thor flirted with every girl he could, but never you. He treated you as one would treat a sister, except for the times his eyes would wander over your form. So, he noticed you but he never attempted to do anything about it. Loki tried to ignore the part of him that was pleased that Thor had no interest in you.
“Brother, I only fight battles I can win. Y/N only ever had eyes for one person and that is not me.” he had replied when Loki asked him about this.
Loki had frowned at the time. He knew Thor was most likely teasing him. Thor only shook his head and walked away from his brother. Muttering to himself about thickheaded brothers.
You sighed deeply as you threw yourself onto the ground next to Loki. When he did not reply, you sighed even louder, this time you draped yourself against his back. You rested your head on his shoulder as your arms wrapped around his neck. You were always a dramatic thing, and he was ever indulgent.
“Is there a problem, darling?” he asked, not even looking up from his book. From his position he could not see the way you all but preened at the pet name he gave you. You hid your pleased smile in his clothed shoulder.
“It’s Baldur.” you sighed again, “He has asked to court me. Again.”
Loki tensed for a moment, but forced himself to relax. He had no reason to feel so possessive. You were free to do as you wished, and he should be supportive. You were his best friend, but you were not his. You could do worse than Baldur. Far worse.
“Many girls would kill for Baldur’s attention.”
“He is too persistent.” You grumbled as you sat up, and Loki mourned the warmth of you against his back. “He will not take no for an answer.”
Loki slammed his book shut and whipped around to look at you. Even with his attempts at self control, he could not contain the instant spike of rage at your words. His eyes were cold in an instant and it shocked you. You could see the promise of bloodshed in his eyes, and it thrilled you more than you could say.
“What do you mean, he won’t take no?” he asked, “Has he done anything to you? Has he hurt you?”
“No. Nothing like that.” you touched Loki’s forearm, soothing him. Despite the annoyance Baldur has caused you, you did not want serious harm to befall the overeager boy.
“Then what?” Loki asked, his body instantly relaxing under your touch, “What has he done?”
“He won’t stop asking me.” you bit your lip as you looked down, “I just wish he would leave me alone.”
You laid down on the grass, and watched Loki’s face as he sat and stewed. You pretended to pick the petals off of a nearby flower as the scheme formed in his mind. He was no longer murderous, but you saw the mischievous glint in his eye. You bit your lip as you stared at him, wondering what he was planning. You knew you were provoking him, but you needed his reaction like you needed the air your breath.
The next morning, when Baldur politely greeted you he could not make eye contact with you. After a brief acknowledgement, he all but ran away from you. You laughed as the poor boy retreated. Once he left you turned to Loki. He shrugged, but you knew. He could not keep anything from you. You could read him too well.
“My hero.” you whispered before placing a quick kiss on his cheek. Loki flushed before excusing himself for his lessons. Pulling away from you once again.
If Baldur flinched whenever he saw a sprig of mistletoe for the rest of his life, well that was just a coincidence.
“Poor thing.” Fandral sighed as he set down his blade, “He cannot leave her alone.”
Thor and the others looked over where Fandral was looking. You and Loki were at the edge of the training ground. Loki was showing you something he found in the library last night. He was supposed to be training as well, but on the days you came to watch he tended to slip out to talk with you.
“Do you think she would prefer your company, my friend?” Thor raised an eyebrow.
“Most girls do.” Fandral winked back.
“It’s been that way since we were children.” Sif shrugged, ignoring them, “Loki’s basically her captor.”
“You know he threatens all her suitors? If he doesn’t plague them with horrible illusions. Bragi still wakes up in the middle of the night screaming.” Volstaggl remarked.
Thor observed closely. He had known you longer than his friends had. He knew the signs to look for. He saw the way you leaned into Loki whenever he was near. He saw the way your eyes light up whenever Loki gave you his attention. He saw the way you watched Loki as he trained with his daggers.
“I will say this,” Thor grinned, “I have never seen a happier prisoner.”
Your laughter traveled through the air, as if to highlight his point. The other warriors could not argue with him. You seemed perfectly content with your jailor in that moment.
“Loki!” Thor called, “Leave Y/N alone and get back to training!”
Thor watched as your gaze never left Loki as he ran back to the training grounds. You bit your lip and flushed as he twirled his daggers and Thor chuckled.
And Loki was supposed to be the smart one.
“I am to be a woman soon.” you announced as you sat beside him in the library.
Loki had been researching spells he could master when you had sought him out. You always sought him out when he hid himself away. You always knew where to find him.
“As opposed to a horse?” Loki quipped back, looking up from his book.
You grinned and you playfully shoved him “Your mother has arranged a feast in my honor. I will finally be of age, and my father wants me to make a good match.”
“Yes, that.” Loki nodded and turned back to his book. It was not a topic he liked to dwell on. You would dazzle all the young men at the feast and they would fall for you. Surely a betrothal would soon follow. His face soured at that thought, and you studied the change in his expression.
“When do you think I will marry?” you asked him curiously, as if you read his mind.
“Never if I can help it.” Loki answered too quickly. Too honestly.
“And why is that?” you asked him, your voice dropped low. It was more breath than words.
Loki opened his mouth to make a joke of some sort. Probably a not so playful reminder of his promise to make you a princess. But the words died on his tongue as he looked up at you. He saw the look in your eyes, it was almost like… hunger.
He meant to pull away, to make an excuse. To do anything besides what he actually wanted to do in that moment. He almost succeeded, but then you bit your lip and that small action snapped the last of his restraint.
In an instant, his lips were on yours. One hand cradled the back of your head, and the other cupped your beautiful neck. He promised himself that if you tried to pull away he would let you go. He expected you to pull away. Either that or you would remain still and wait for him to be done. You would either push him away, or let him do as he wished, and he did not know which outcome he feared most.
Instead, your fingers curled into his hair and your lips parted for him. Your body betrayed you in an instant. You melted into his touch, and Loki did not hesitate. He could feel that darkness within him reawaken. It wanted him to stake his claim on you. To mark you as his. He wanted to pull away. He wanted to touch every inch of your skin with his fingers, tongue, and teeth.
He allowed himself a nip to your lower lip. You whined so beautifully for him. You sounded utterly divine and he needed to hear that sound again. He bit your lip again, harder this time. You moaned as the skin on your lip broke. He felt the blood on his tongue as he ran it over your lower lip. Your blood brought him to his senses and he released you.
Your skin was flushed and your eyes were dark. Your chest heaved as you panted. He could feel your warm breath as it left your swollen, bloodied lips. The darkness swelled inside him, chanting one word over and over again.
Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine…
He closed his eyes and tried to silence the voice. The guilt and self-loathing began to build as his eyes fixated on the small bead of blood. One kiss and he had already hurt you. He tasted your blood and he craved more of it. He pictured you covered in marks from him. Marks proclaiming who you belonged to. He wanted more of you.
“Forgive me.” Loki muttered before turning and walking out of the library.
He missed the way your fingers brushed against your swollen lips. He missed the way you looked at the smeared blood on your fingertips. He missed the near devious smile on your face.
Loki could not forget the kiss, no matter how hard he tried. Your absence should have helped, but it only made him think about you more. You were busy with preparations for your feast. It was fast approaching, and every day his mother pulled you away to discuss details. He felt twitchy and exhausted. Loki missed you.
He walked into his bedchambers with the plan to hide away for the rest of the evening. Perhaps he would study his magic or he would do some reading. You had gifted him a novel not too long ago, and he had been meaning to read it. As he shut the door behind him, he felt another presence. He was not alone. He silently summoned a dagger as he stepped forward.
“Who is here?” Loki called out.
“Just me!” your voice came from his bedroom, “The dress for my feast arrived and your mother told me I could meet with the dressmaker for the fitting in here. Is that a problem?”
Loki smiled to himself, instantly relaxing once he realized you were the intruder, “It is not a problem.” He dismissed the dagger. There was a pause, a beat of silence before you spoke again.
“Come and see my dress.” you commanded him and Loki immediately obeyed. He opened the large door and stepped into his sleeping chamber. The sight before him made his heart stop.
The dress in question was not on your body as he expected. It was placed on the bed in front of you, as if it was waiting for his inspection. Your body was almost completely bare to him, laid strategically on his bed. You were laying on your side, your head propped up on your hand. You held the top of the dress to your body, covering the most intimate parts of yourself. Your eyes were wide and innocent.
Loki felt his body react to the sight instantly. He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was behind him and also seeing you. Once he was content that he would not have to gouge any eyes out, he then looked up at the ceiling to not allow himself to look at your exposed body.
“I did not realize-” he tried to apologize but you cut him off.
“Do you approve?” You smirked as you held up a sleeve, “Of the color?”
“The white is...immaculate.” He looked at your face and saw no trace of anger or scandal. Only curiosity. After a moment of hesitation and against his better judgement, he closed the door behind him, allowing himself to step further in.
“White and gold.” you hummed thoughtfully, “Too virginal I think.”
“Will that not be appropriate?” Loki asked, unsuccessfully trying to tear his eyes away from you.
“Hopefully not.” you sighed as your hand caressed his bedsilks. Loki saw that familiar glint of mischief in your eyes. Like you were letting him in on a secret.
“Is this a game?” Loki asked, finding it difficult to breath properly.
“If it is, it is a game of want and wanting.” you leveled a look at him that compelled him to step closer, “Do you think I would look better in a different color?”
“You would look divine in any color you chose.” Loki replied honestly, his eyes tracing your exposed skin. He stepped closer until his knee hit the edge of the bed. He could reach out and touch you, but he did not dare move further.
You grabbed the green silk of his bed sheets and held it against your body. You twisted yourself to lay on your back, covered only in his sheet. You blinked up at him, “I think this color suits me just fine.”
Loki inhaled shakily as he touched the white silk of the dress, trying to ignore the sight of you naked and wrapped in his sheets. A sight he had dreamed of many nights. The darkness screamed at him, but he fought to keep it at bay.
“What is this game?” he asked when he finally found his voice.
You grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him towards you. He complied, crawling onto the bed to hover over you. Despite all of your exposed skin, your eyes captivated him, and he could not look away from them if he wanted to.
“I want you,” you paused to wet your lips and Loki barely suppressed a groan at the sight, “To change the color of my dress.”
Without tearing his eyes from yours, he grabbed the fabric between his fingers. He considered your request, but he hesitated. Surely wearing a dress in his signature color would send the wrong idea to the rest of the court. He wanted to so badly, but what would they say of you? With a small sigh, he let the fabric slip from his fingers.
“I think that is unwise.” he finally answered. He told himself to pull away, but instead he found himself leaning in. Your breath came in heavenly pants as you laid underneath him. His hand twitched by the skin of your hip. You did not move, holding your breath for him to make his decision. He seemed frozen.
“You look but you will not touch.” you whispered at him, tilting your face up towards him. You lips mere inches from his. Your hand ran up over his chest and neck to twine your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. Your lips barely brushing over his, a clear invitation. An offering. He knew this game was getting out of hand, but he didn’t want it to end.
You could see the war in his eyes. Maybe he was about to give in, or maybe he was about to reject you. You would never know the answer, because a knock on the door stopped him. You huffed a sigh as Loki scrambled off the bed in shock. His face looked as though ice water had been poured over him. Whatever moment you were having was thoroughly ruined.
“That would be the dressmakers to fit my dress.” you explained.
“I should go.” Loki cleared his throat, “For delicacy’s sake.”
You smirked at him, a teasing glint in your eye, “Yes, delicacy. Of course.”
With a polite nod, Loki slipped out the back door before the dress makers could come into the room. If they were surprised to see you naked and flushed in the Prince’s personal bed chamber, they made no comment about it. Something you were unsure if you were thankful for, or disappointed by.
Loki gritted his teeth yet again. He had done it so much since the feast began, he could hardly keep count. You were an utter vision, but then again Loki always thought that about you. Even when you were a child covered in mud, Loki would have sworn you were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.
You smiled, you danced, you flirted with the ease and precision of one far above your station. Whispers around the court attributed your social finesse to his mother’s patience and devotion to you. Loki almost felt insulted for you, these people underestimated your own wit and virtue. Since your bloodline was too close to common for comfort, you could not be naturally skilled in court life.
His eyes remained glued to you as you circled the dance floor with another young man. Loki could not be bothered to remember his name, but he would remember his hands on your body. His unworthy fingers curving around your waist as he led you across the floor. Loki could feel a possessive growl building in his chest.
Ever since the incident with the dress, Loki’s mind was plagued with images and fantasies. Far worse than ever before. He had been so close to giving in and claiming you for his own. He had almost given in to his darkest desires and ruined you for any other man. He could still see your naked flesh whenever he closed his eyes. He could hear your anticipatory pants better than he could hear his own heartbeat. In the dark of the night, he dreamed you beneath him again, wrapped in his bedsheets and covered in his scent.
When the music came to an end, you excused yourself from the boy whose name Loki could not remember and made your way across the room. Loki could not help himself as he slipped into the shadows and followed you. He told himself it was a protective response. He wanted to be sure that none of these overeager suitors had any stupid ideas. But more likely, Loki was a masochist and wanted to torture himself more.
After another dance with some young noble you already forgot the name of, you made your way to the drinks table, where Thor was waiting with a cup in hand. You stood beside him as you both watched the festivities continue.
“This is a dangerous game you are playing, Y/N.” Thor murmured to you before drinking his ale.
“I have no idea what you mean, my Prince.” you smiled innocently, “I thought we were too old for games.”
Thor shook his head, with an easy smile on his face, “Cut the flattery. You have been toying with Loki’s jealousy since we were children. I would think you are an expert in the craft by now.”
“An expert would have garnered a true reaction by now.” you reached for a goblet of wine, “Tonight shall be my final play. If he does not bed me tonight, I shall swear an oath of virginity.”
”I would be happy to aid in your attempts.” he offered, extending a hand to you, “Allow me to have this dance.”
You shook your head instantly. As much as you enjoyed teasing Loki, you knew how insecure he felt in comparison to his older brother. You would never throw Thor in Loki’s face. You wanted to catch Loki’s attention, not wound him.
“Thank you, Thor. But I do not think I am in the mood to dance.” you declined politely.
You were surprised when Thor took your hand and started to walk you to the dance floor anyway, “I am afraid I will have to insist.”
You sighed and followed Thor, completely unaware of the icy set of eyes on your back.
When Loki saw Thor bring you out to the dance floor, his heart and masochist streak shattered. He scanned the room and saw your parent’s delighted faces. He saw the Sif and the Warriors Three joking with each other as they pointed. Loki had seen enough. He was certain no one would miss his presence anyway.
Once he got to the hall leading to his private chambers, he heard footsteps behind him. They were fast approaching and he instantly recognized them.
“Loki!” you called down the hall as you ran after him. He stopped, turned, and waited for you to catch up, “You are leaving in the middle of my feast?”
“I am just tired, Y/N.” Loki insisted with a sigh as he turned away from you.
“No,” you grabbed onto Loki’s wrist, “You are not leaving, I won’t allow it.”
Loki tried to pull his wrist away from you, but you only tightened your hold on him. You knew he could make you let go at any moment, but that would require him to hurt you. Something he would never do. So, instead he glared down at you.
“I told you there is nothing. Release me and go back to enjoying your night.” Loki pulled his wrist away and you let him, but you did not follow the rest of his orders.
Instead you followed him down the hallway. Once he reached his door, you grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back. Perhaps it was childish, but you had run out of other options.
“Please,” Loki begged, his voice was thick, “Let me go.”
“I want you, and I thought you wanted me.” you whispered, “If I am wrong, please tell me so that I may tend to my broken heart.”
“Of course I want you!” Loki yelled in frustration as he turned on you. He ran his hand through his hair, as he barked a nervous laugh, “I’ve wanted you ever since we were children.”
“You have me.” you replied so simply, as if there were no other answer. You slowly walked closer to him, as if he were a frightened animal. Perhaps it was a fitting comparison. He was frightened by his animalistic desires at that moment.
“You don’t understand.” Loki was trapped. You crowded him, and when he tried to keep his distance, he felt the wood from his door against his back. He could not escape you. He never could.
“I do.” you insisted, “We understand each other better than anyone else ever could. There are no secrets between us.”
“I want to possess you!” he finally admitted, “I want to be the cause of your laughter and smiles. I want to be the only one to make you cry out and whimper. I want to mark your body so everybody knows that you are mine. I want to own you completely and utterly.”
His chest heaved as he completed his rant. He expected you to recoil in fear. He knew that what he wanted was wrong. It was depraved and dark. You were so pure and light. There was no way you could want him the way he wanted you.
After a moment of silence, he forced himself to meet your eyes and confront your disgust. He was shocked to see the dark look in them. A darkness to match his own. A twin flame.
“I am yours.” The words fell from your lips so easily. There was no hesitation as you said it. If anything, you seemed frustrated that you had to say it to him so plainly. Frustrated that he did not already understand. You knew all along and wanted what he wanted as well.
Loki slowly raised his hand, pinching your chin between his thumb and finger. Your eyes closed as a smile spread across your lips. Your eyes slowly opened, your blown pupils focused solely on him.
“Say it again.” Loki whispered, his thumb stroking your chin.
“I am yours.” you breathed, your face containing a look of utter pleasure.
“Again.” he brushed his lips against yours.
“I am yours.” you sighed into his mouth.
Loki groaned and pressed his lips to yours. This kiss was less intense than your last one, but no less passionate. His lips moved against yours with precision, with purpose. Within a moment, he switched your positions so you were the one pressed against the door. You allowed your hands to tangle in his hair as you lost yourself in his kiss.
Loki murmured, “As much as I want to take you right this moment, I suggest we go inside.”
“Maybe we should.” you grinned up at him before jumping up to loop your legs around Loki’s waist. Of course he caught you, he would always catch you.
“Why must you make things difficult?” he sighed in exasperation, but his eyes were fond.
“Me?” you laughed, “I presented myself naked and ready for you, and you ran away.”
“I will never hear the end of that, will I?” he secured one arm around your waist and used the other to open his door.
“Never.” you promised gleefully.
Once in his room, Loki gently pressed you against the door. His hands roamed up and down your sides as his mouth trailed down your neck. He was so gentle, it was as if he feared you would break like glass if he was too rough with you. You decided to disavow him of that notion quickly and gave his hair a sharp tug. He looked up at you with a gasp, his eyes dark with lust.
“Fuck me.” you whispered as you squeezed your legs around his waist.
You could see that mischievous glint in his eye return as he walked you away from the door and towards his bed. Without much warning he threw you down onto his bed. You gasped in surprise as you bounced on it. You watched him in anticipation as Loki stood at the foot of his bed.
“So vulgar, my dear.” he grinned before removing his green silk shirt, “We will have to do something about that.”
You had seen Loki shirtless many times before, but never like this. You bit your lip as you took in his newly exposed skin. His hands wrapped around your ankles with a growl. With a sharp tug, he pulled your body down to the foot of the bed. You shivered as he kissed your ankle bone.
“Do you know what you do to me when you bite your lip thus?”
“I do not.” you ran your tongue along your lip to wet it. Loki’s hand moved up your leg, pushing the thin material of your dress further up. Exposing you to his hungry gaze. He could see the slick evidence of your desire. How you made his mouth water.
“I think you do.” Loki kneeled at the foot of the bed, throwing your legs over his shoulders. His lips brushed against the skin of your knee, “I think I see your tricks now. You have been teasing and provoking me for quite some time.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” you gasped as Loki placed an open-mouth kiss to your inner thigh.
“You called this a game of want and wanting.” Loki bit the sensitive skin of your thigh, feeling the muscles twitch under him, “I will make you want me more than anything else in the nine realms.”
“Too late.” you moaned, closing your eyes, “I already do.”
He chuckled quietly, “We will see about that.”
You expected him to dive right in, like a man possessed, but of course he could never do what was expected of him. The first touch was featherlight, the tip of his thumb barely sweeping against your clit. A shot of pleasure jolted through you. After a few more of these teasing touches, he began to trace slow, lazy circles around the bundle of nerves. The pressure and pace were consistent, and never enough to heighten your pleasure.
“Loki…” you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. You felt pitiful in that moment, but you loved it. You loved how easy it was to give up control to him. He placed a soothing kiss on your thigh.
You felt his smirk against your skin, “Need more, darling?”
You nodded desperately, digging your heel into his back. He laughed softly.
“Your wish is my command.” he promised before leaning forward.
His thumb continued its tight circles over your clit, as you felt his tongue thrust into you. He lapped at your wetness as if he were dying of thirst. You groaned as you felt him slip a finger into you, curling it in time with his tongue. You could feel that warmth in your belly begin to intensify. That coil you heard other ladies talk about began to tighten, until Loki pulled his mouth away.
“Oh my love.” Loki moaned as he added a second finger, “Just one taste, and I fear I am already addicted. I should tie you to my bed and keep you here for myself.”
“Yours.” you panted, “Always yours.”
“Yes,” Loki pumped his fingers inside of you a little faster, “You are mine. Not Thor’s. Not Bragi’s. No one else's’. Only mine.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but Loki attached his lips to your clit, gently sucking on it. The heels of your feet dug into his back as pleasure surged through you. He could already feel your walls tightening on his fingers. He was tempted to remain between your legs until the day he died.
“Please…” the plea left your lips with a sigh. You needed more, and he knew it. And, for the first time in his life, he was going to deny you what you wanted most. It took a great deal of restraint, but he pulled away from you. You whimpered when his mouth abandoned your throbbing clit.
“Not yet.” He pulled his fingers out of you, despite how desperately you tightened around them. Your hips raised to follow them and he chuckled darkly, “So needy, pet.”
“I hate you.” you exhaled shakily. You took a few deep breaths to try and get your heart rate back under control. You had been so close, and he denied you. He never denied you anything.
Loki tsked at you, “I don’t believe that for a moment.”
He stood from his place on the floor and with a snap of his fingers, your dress fluttered to the floor. He had wanted to take his time and undress you himself, but he found that he did not have the patience. You shivered as the cool air blew over your body, but you did not shy away from his eyes.
“Up.” Loki commanded, gesturing for you to move further up on the bed. You complied, until your head rested on his pillows again.
The last time Loki saw you naked and in his bed, he thought the sight could not get any better. Now that you lay there, your skin flushed and hair disheveled, with your legs open to him, he knew it could. It could get much better.
He crawled over you, kissing his way up your body until he reached your lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you deeply. His hands rested on your thighs. Your muscles instantly relaxed under his touch, and your legs spread a little wider. How quickly your body accepted him, it almost made his head spin.
With another snap of his fingers, his black trousers disappeared, leaving him as naked as you. He released your lips, cupping your cheek in his hand. He saw nothing but trust and acceptance in your eyes. He wondered idly if one’s heart could break from happiness, because he swore his was breaking under your gaze.
“Are you sure, my love?” he asked, looking deep into your eyes. It would be difficult, but he would stop if you asked him. He would do whatever it took to keep you happy.
“About you? Always.” you answered, with an earnest smile. Oh, how he loved you.
With your explicit consent, Loki slowly eased himself into you. Your breath caught at the intrusion, never having been stretched this way before. It wasn’t as painful as you heard, it was nothing more than a brief discomfort. As if reading your thoughts, Loki dipped his head down, and pressed tender kisses to your face as he rolled his hips, until he was fully sheathed inside you.
“My precious darling.” he kissed your jaw, “You feel incredible around me.” a nip to your earlobe, “I’m blessed to have you.”
Your body relaxed under his praise. The discomfort quickly faded away and that desire in your lower belly returned. That burning for him came back brighter than before.
“Loki,” you sighed in pleasure, “I need you.”
With one more kiss to your lips, Loki slowly pulled back before thrusting back in. You both moaned at the sensation. With a wicked smile, Loki rocked in and out of you, setting an impossibly slow pace.
“I should draw this out.” He mused. You could feel the tortuous drag of him against your inner walls, “I should keep you here with me for hours. Days. Until you beg me to release you.”
As much the thought of being completely as his mercy pleased you, you knew that your patience had worn thin. You had waited long enough for him. Loki would have plenty of time to tease and deprive you later. This was your game, after all. And you were going to win it.
With a devious smirk, you purposefully clenched around him, “You should know better than that.”
Loki groaned and you quickly flipped him over onto his back. Surprising both of you. His hands fell to your hips as he looked up at you in equal parts wonder and hunger. You moved yourself up his length before slowly making your way back down, this new angle stretching you so deliciously.
“It took me so long to get here,” you gasped as his hips thrust up to meet yours, “Do you think I would seek to escape so soon?”
Loki sat up enough to press his body flush against yours, “Be careful what you promise, my love. Or else I shall never let you go.”
You pulled him into a messy kiss that was more teeth and tongue than lips. You swallowed each other's moans. Your fingers tangled in his hair again as his hand clawed up your body. He groped along your curves before digging his fingers into your hips. His grip edged on just the right side of painful. You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, so filled with lust, adoration, and utter devotion. You placed a final, chaste kiss to his lips before making your vow.
“I want to be the center of your world.” you moved your lips to trail kisses along his jawline, “I want to be the reason behind your every impulse and desire.”
“You already are.” Loki breathed as he tilted his head back for you, and you kissed down his neck. His hips continued to thrust up into you, following the pace you set. For all his words earlier, you both knew who was in control now.
“I want to be the first thing you think of in the morning, and the last thing you think of at night. I want to walk into a room and have everyone in it know exactly who I belong to.”
Loki groaned as your words washed over him. You took the opportunity to bite down hard on this throat. His thrusts faltered and you delighted in how you affected him. You reveled in the fact you could make him lose control with just a few words. You rode him faster as you ran your tongue over the fresh bite mark on his skin.
“I am yours,” you whispered before placing a final kiss behind his ear, “and you are mine.”
Loki’s grip on your hips tightened even further and you knew he would leave bruises. He throbbed inside you, and with a reverent moan he found his peak. The flood of warmth that filled you triggered your own orgasm. You felt the coil in your belly snap as you gasped. You wanted to shut your eyes, but Loki held your gaze almost daring you to look away. Not one to back down, you stared into his eyes as waves of pleasure crashed over you.
You stayed in his lap as you caught your breath. Loki leaned forward and kissed your lips again, slowly and sinfully. You melted into him once again, molding yourself to his desires. His hands ran up and down your sides, his nails lightly scratching your skin. You felt his smirk as your walls clenched around him again in response.
“You wicked creature.” his voice rumbled, “To think they call me the God of Mischief.”
You grinned, “Shall I be punished for my offense?”
“Nightly.” he promised with a growl.
You giggled and curled yourself into his chest, pressing your face against his neck. Loki chuckled as he brought a hand up to massage your scalp. You all but purred under his touch.
“Are you alright, darling?” he asked quieter now, “You are not hurt, are you?”
You shook your head against him, “No. It was perfect.”
A few more moments passed in silence as you basked in the afterglow of your affections. After a while, you tried to move, but Loki only tightened his grip on you.
“We will need to go back to the feast,” you huffed, “Frigga will make a toast in my honor. I must be there to receive it.”
“I warned you I would never be able to let you go.” Loki’s lips claimed yours again. You whined again as he bit your lip the way you liked. He smirked at the noise.
“Nor I you, my love.” you grinned and Loki noticed the glint in your eyes, “But I believe we need to inform the court of this new development.”
Loki’s eyes lit up at your words. He allowed you to slide off his lap and watched you hungrily as you walked across the room to retrieve your discarded dress from the floor. You slid the white and gold silk over your head, and tied the sash. Before long, you felt Loki’s arms slide around your waist.
“I think you were right.” Loki pressed a kiss to your neck, “White is far too virginal.”
His grip on your waist tightened before he slid his hands to splay across your abdomen. His magic bled from his fingertips until it spread across the silk. The white slowly changed to his signature green.
“Much better.” He purred in your ear. His kisses turned into bites and you moaned softly as your eyes closed. You knew he was marking you, just as you had marked him. You smiled as you relaxed into his arms, tilting your head to give him better access.
“Say it.” you demanded, your voice sounding breathless.
And as always, Loki could not deny you.
“I am yours.” he growled against your neck.
Frigga looked around the room, but did not see you anywhere.
“Thor!” she gestured to her eldest son, “Have you seen Y/N?”
“Last I saw, she was following after Loki.” Thor grinned widely. Frigga knew her son was not telling her something. She had raised two princes. She knew chicanery when she saw it.
“Just tell me if you see her.” Frigga sighed.
Thor looked over his mother’s shoulder and his eyes widened, “Mother, I see her.”
Frigga turned just in time for the room to go silent. Everyone in the room was taking in the same sight as she was.
You and Loki confidently walked into the room, your arm in his. Your once white dress was now a deep green, to match his own attire. Also, the two of you wore matching marks on your necks. Without a word, everyone in the room knew what had transpired. Neither of you cared, however, you were too busy looking at one another, fully besotted.
“Oh Norns, what have I done?.” Thor muttered to himself, his smile falling off his face.
Frigga pressed her lips together and tried not to laugh. She had said she wanted Loki to have someone for his own. It was her fault for doubting her son’s stubborn streak. And his flair for dramatics.
“I am sure everything will be fine.” Frigga placed a hand on Thor’s shoulder, “Now, if you excuse me, I have a toast to give.”
Loki did not leave your side for the rest of the feast. Throughout Frigga’s speech, he stayed beside you with a hand on your lower back. When the music started up again, he swept you onto the dance floor before anyone else could so much as look in your direction. When the feast came to a close, your parents made their way to the two of you.
“How could you be so stupid?” your father hissed at you, “You are coming home with us this instant.”
Your father reached for you, but Loki grabbed his wrist with a speed only he possessed.
“Y/N will be spending the night in the palace.” Loki flashed them a charming smile
“She will not!” your mother cried out.
You tilted your head in confusion, “I have spent many nights here before.”
“That was before…” your father trailed off.
“Before what?” Loki asked, his face the perfect picture of innocence.
“Before you seduced our daughter.” your father growled.
“Oh that.” Loki nodded thoughtfully, “I am sorry to report that I was not the one to do the seducing.”
Your parents looked scandalized but you could not find it in you to care. You leaned into Loki’s side and his free arm instantly wrapped around you.
“Just because you are a prince does not mean you can keep her.” your mother tried to reason.
“Of course not.” Loki smiled politely, “I can keep her only because she wishes to be kept. Good night to you both.”
Loki guided you away from your parents, but you could see the anger in your father’s eyes. Perhaps you should have been afraid of it, but you knew Loki would protect you from anything. With a smile, you followed him back to his chambers.
Your lips found each other's the instant the door closed. This time, you undressed each other by hand. Loki’s shirt coming off by the door. Your dress falling to the floor by his writing desk.
By the time you made it to his bed, you were both naked and running your hands over each other’s bodies. In your haste, there was so much you missed the first time. You ran your hands down his chest and over his stomach. Before you could reach any lower, Loki grabbed your wrists in one of his hands.
“Do not think you will get away with your stunt earlier.” He growled in your ear as he raised your wrists above your head, “I still must have my revenge, my love.”
Before you could question what he meant by that, he snapped and you felt something tighten around your wrists. You looked up in surprise and saw his shimmering green magic restraining your arms. You felt butterflies in your stomach.
“You have given yourself to me, and I will take my time with you.” Loki studied your face closely for any hesitation, “Is that alright?”
“Yes.” you whispered, your heart racing in excitement.
Loki grinned at you like a predator eyeing its prey, “Let us begin.”
Summary: Y/N hates that she has to dress the way Zemo requires, but Bucky makes it all worth it. (Based off of tfatws episode 3: Spoilers ahead!)
Warning: Y/N gets very stupid with love. Swearing, mentions of violence. SMUT 18+
GIF isn’t mine.
A/ N: God writing while high is such a vibe. Especially calming for my ADHD. Also I’m glad y’all loved the sneak peak. I’m kinda proud of this one.
“How am I supposed to hide a gun when I’m wearing this?!” You yell at Zemo, already tired of his slimy nature. Zemo was trying to get you to change into one of the most skimpy pieces of clothing you had ever seen.
“Y/N, come on, it’s imperative we look exactly like the people we’re playing,” Zemo hushed you, but you bite back even louder. Your voice reverberates throughout the small cabin of the plane.
“Oh? Is it it imperative I look like a fucking prostitute?” You scowl at him. Zemo, stills before giving you what appears to be a yes with just a tilt of his head. You scoff, “REALLY?”
“Y/N-“ you hear Sam start, but you quickly interrupt him,
“Shut up Sam! At least your two “characters” have names!” You fight back, pointing at Sam and Bucky. “You might as well put a sticky note with the word ‘Whore’ on my fucking forehead!” You say, flailing your arms dramatically. You reluctantly snatch the duffel bag that Zemo miraculously has for you, and you stalk over to the bathroom.
“Now, if you boys need me, I’ll be in my dressing room,” you scoff, opening the small door and slamming it shut loudly. You look down at the dress you have draped over your arm. You raise it between your hands. It was a dress, no, a cloth, made entirely out out iridescent crystals, that you couldn’t help but gawk at. You will be wearing thousands of dollars on your body by the looks of it. Ok, maybe you’re an escort, not a prostitute. You find a small makeup bag inside the duffel, and find products you have actually used before. Zemo definitely did some research, probably having someone hack into your computer to see what products you use. He surprisingly got your foundation shade just right, and you scoff. You reluctantly look at your reflection in the dingy mirror. You sigh, ready to be extremely uncomfortable for the rest of the night.
You can practically feel the three men’s stare as you exited the bathroom. You were covered head to toe in crystals, from the stoned heels to the hairband that is loosely collecting your hair at the top of your head. You can especially feel Bucky’s gaze, his jaw incredibly tense when you lazily looked over at him. The intensity of his stare, made your anger only fizzle out for a moment to be replaced by embarrassment, but quickly returns when you see Zemo’s smug expression.
After a prolonged silence, you clear your throat, annoyed.
“Ok, maybe I should actually charge people, because this,” You gesture to all three men ogling you with a single pan of your finger, “is fucking ridiculous,” All three men break out of the trance quickly, Sam and Zemo muttering quick apologies while Bucky just shifts uncomfortably is his seat. You sit in the open seat across from Zemo, dropping the duffel bag at your feet. You quickly lean over to Bucky, trying to say your next sentence with as much seriousness you can muster without getting flustered.
“I need you to go watch my back, cause I can’t hide my guns for shit in this thing,” you say, and Bucky lets out a sharp exhale in amusement. He looks up at you, with his cerulean eyes, almost making your legs turn into jelly.
“Course doll, I always got your back,” He says with a small smile, trying to reassure you.
“Thanks Buck,” you say, giving him a slight squeeze on his shoulder before returning to your seat.
All sittting there in silence wasn’t out of the ordinary. However, you stealing multiple glances from Bucky, was definitely out of the ordinary. In the span of ten minutes, his lips were swollen pink, after biting his lip continuously from just looking at you. You didn’t know what to do with this information. You’ve spent the last three months, crushing on him so hard that anything he does makes you dizzy.
You never thought Bucky biting into a plum would have you clenching your thighs together, while sitting at the kitchen counter, but it did. You remember Sam giving you a very confused look. Staring at him usually led to inappropriate thoughts. You could stare at that man all good damn day. But here he was, staring at you.
You don’t have any idea why.
Now walking along an unnamed bridge over an unnamed river, your feet are already starting to feel sore. You were long past your days of kicking ass in heels. You do not know why you did that so often. As Zemo was giving Sam the information of his character, you almost fall right on your ass due to one of your heels falling into a small pothole. Thankfully Bucky catches you, with a quick wrap of his arm around yours. You feel your body tense when you realize how close Bucky pulled you towards him. You could almost feel his breath on your neck—oh wait he’s looking at you. Fuck he’s looking at you. He lets out a small huff of amusement. His breath fans your cheeks and you feel it sting like fire. In a good way.
“You alright there Doll?” He smirks at you. You roll your eyes at him.
“Yeah. You try walking in these shoes. You won’t be laughing then.” You retort, and he lets out a small chuckle. Oh man, you were being funny. Funny to Bucky. That was a rare sight.
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were ok,” he says with a small grin on his face. You huff at him,
“Mhmm..sure...” you say with a returning smile. Bucky laughs, shaking his head before leading you to the car, that you assume is your ride.
You automatically make all the men fill the backseat while you sit in the passenger seat with the driver who was very kind to you, given what you were wearing. All three men tried to fight you on it, but when you reasoned, “I’m a woman wearing six inch things of death, and you’re not”, there wasn’t much argument after that.
You finally arrive at lowtown. You had refused to be Zemo’s plaything, so you gladly accepted Sam’s hand as you got out of the car. The streets of Low Town are covered in a slight purple fog. You all get onto the pedestrian ramp, that leads to the lower level, where the club that you’re infiltrating is. Sam rests a reassuring hand on the small of your back, keeping you steady as you walk down the rain covered steps. You see countless, thieves, dealers, any sort of criminal you could think of, was there. You look up to see the sign of the club you are approaching. The neon purple sign glows with the image of a growling gorilla.
As you enter the club, you immediately feel many pairs of eyes on you and the rest of your group. You hear Zemo address Bucky in Russian, and you look back to Bucky, who is wearing the signature scowl on his face. Your heart sinks at the sight of a man who has worked so hard to escape his past, having to pretend to be under Zemo’s control. Again. You even hear a man say, “Is that the winter soldier?”
The four of you approach the bar, Sam’s hand still resting on the small of your back. You see the burly bartender approach you.
“Hello, gentlemen, miss,” he grumbles, nodding in your direction. You give him a flirtatious smile, falling into your character. He looks at Sam suspiciously.
“Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger,” he says with a slightly threatening tone. Zemo gives a tight lipped smile.
“His plans have changed. We have business to do. With Selby.” He explains. The bartender shifts his gaze, scanning the four of you before looking at Sam.
“The usual?” He asks, and Sam gives him a curt nod. He turns his head away, but you keep your gaze locked on the bartender, curious. You see him reach into a jar and pull out a fucking dead snake, and you have to fight the slight gag that rises in your throat. Sam finally notices the snake with wide eyes. The bartender starts cutting the snake open, and Zemo lets out a small laugh.
“Ah...Smiling Tiger, your favorite.” He says, subtly telling Sam to man up. You let out a small laugh under your breath. Watching as Sam takes the shot from the bartender. He struggles to get it down. You look over at Bucky, who you can immediately tell is trying fight off a grin. You watch the bartender walk away as another man approaches from behind Zemo.
“I got word from on high, you ain’t welcome here.” He says, glaring at Zemo.
“I have no business with the Power Broker, But if he insists, he can either come and talk to me...” he gestures over to Bucky.
“New haircut?” The man teases.
“Or bring Selby for a chat.” Zemo finishes, staring down the man. The man walks away.
“A power broker? Really?” Bucky scoffs.
“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.”
“Oh that’s comforting,” You let out a small laugh, slightly uncomfortable.
“Do you know him?” Sam asks.
“Only by reputation. In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner.”
“Sounds like a nice guy,” you say, leaning your elbows on the bar to alleviate some of the pain rocketing through your ankles.
You hear Zemo call Bucky to action, and you see Bucky grab onto a random man, twisting his arm. You see Bucky immediately go into action, knocking down men left and right. You let a hand come up to your mouth, trying to hide the sad look on your face. It hurt to see Bucky fight with such malice.
“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” Zemo comments, and you give him a nasty look. When Bucky takes the man and throws him onto the bar, metal arm clutching his neck, You hear multiple guns cocking. You nervously glance at the three men.
Sam reaches an arm out to Bucky.
“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.” Zemo warns, before telling Bucky to let go.
“Selby will see you now,” The bartender says.
Not even 10 minutes later you are running for your life. Selby is now dead, and you guys are now being shot at by everyone in Madripoor.
“I cant run in these heels!” Sam yells and you yell right back,
“Oh shut the fuck up Sam!” You yell and you feel your foot slip, your ankle slightly twisting, making you cry out in pain. Bucky quickly reacts, grabbing your hand to help guide you out of the crossfire. If you weren’t being shot at, you might’ve actually blushed.
You quickly round the corner, and you hear gunshots, thankfully not aimed at you. You look to see Zemo rounding the corner.
“Seems that you have a guardian angel.”
“Well this seems too perfect. Drop the weapon Zemo,” you hear a female voice say. You see Sharon Carter round the corner. Fuck.
“When Sharon said she had a place in High Town, I wasn’t really expecting this,” you mumble under your breath, which Bucky hums in agreement to. He was still holding onto you, just like before on the bridge. You could smell a hint of his cologne, you didn’t know fragrances for shit, but it flooded your senses and made your body electrify like a guarded fence.
You make your way into Sharon’s place, and Sam immediately starts chewing Sharon out. You look around at at the pieces of art she has on display.
“Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well.”
“I thought if I had to hustle, might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler. You know how much I can get for a real Monet?”
“Easy, deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monet’s.”
“Oh I don’t think she does Sam,” You say, pausing to look at one of the paintings.
“No. She means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics.” Zemo corrects.
“It’s true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this.” Bucky adds to the conversation.
“Okay, guys. I see what you’re doing. You’re more worldly that good old Sam.”
“Yeah. What’s Google say?” Bucky says, trailing past him, you still being held firm by his grip. You laugh at Bucky’s comeback, squeezing his forearm slightly.
“Come on you guys need to change. I’m hosting clients in an hour.” Sharon calls out.
“Thank god! I am tired of wearing this stupid dress,” you grumble. Bucky lets out a small laugh,
“That’s what you think,” you hear him say under his breath, and you look up at him. He looks at you with a sly grin. You turn your head away, your face as hot as the sun.
As you were just starting to take off your heels, you hear a small knock on the door. Sharon had given you a private room to get ready in, so you weren’t expecting any visitors. You quickly kick off the heels, your bare feet padding across the wooden floor. You open the door to see Bucky, who is now changed into a fitting black suit. His eyes rake down your body. He seems to be happy that you’re still wearing the dress.
“Can I help you with something Buck?” You tease, making his eyes finally meet yours. He clears his throat before looking at you.
“I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. I saw you hurt your ankle earlier.”
You heart flutters at his show of concern. You also remember the way his fleshed hand held yours.
“Oh its fine, just rolled it out of place a bit. Should be fine,” You say and Bucky nods his head along, and you can tell he’s holding something back. You finally start to piece together the glances Buck has been giving you all day.
“Was there something else you need?” You say with a small smirk, approaching Bucky, nearly chest to chest, his face inches from yours. You know what he wants, he just has to make the first move. You see his tongue dart out to wet his lips, scanning your face. His eyes finally look towards your lips.
“Uh yeah...” He mumbles, barely comprehending the world around him. He’s already so lost in you and he hasn’t even touched you.
“Jesus Christ, I know the way you’ve been looking at me all night. Just kiss me already Bucky,” You say and he immediately complies. He crashes his lips onto yours, pushing you out of the doorway so he could shut the door. You let out a small whine as he presses your body against the door, kissing you with such ferocity. You finally have Bucky all to yourself, so you don’t let him take control too quickly. Your hands rise to his shoulders, helping him ditch his jacket so you can dig your fingernails into his fleshed arm. He lets out a small groan, but when you motion to have him help take off your dress, he halts, taking his lips from where they now rested on your neck.
“No..you’re keeping this on,” he demands, sinking to his knees, his hands gliding underneath the dress. Not to take it off, but to feel your soft skin under his. He looks up at you. Your head is firmly pressed against the doorway, already blissed out from Bucky barely doing anything. Your body was shaking with anticipation.
“Bucky...please,” you whine, begging him to help you with the aching between your legs.
“Don’t worry doll, I’m gonna take care of you. You just need to be quiet for me.” He speaks lowly, waiting for the nod of your head before grabbing the thong you were wearing and pulling it down so it pools at your feet. You quickly step out and Bucky takes one of your legs and puts it on his left shoulder, the cool metal of his shoulder making shivers run up right to your core.
Bucky takes a moment to bask in your radiance. He has never seen someone so beautiful, so ready for him to do whatever he pleases. He feels his cock twitch in his jeans at the sight. He finally takes a small lick at your center, and you let out a shuddered breath. He scoots closer to you, burying his tongue in your entrance as he does, as you let out a low whine.
“Quiet princess, or I’ll stop,” he orders. Your heart races at his words. In all the nights you spent, imagining how Bucky would make love to you, you never expected him to be so vocal.
Without warning, he takes his free hand and pushes his index finger into you. You back arches as he brings his tongue to your clit, making slow circles around it. You grip at his hair, digging your nails into his scalp, making his let out a low groan, feeling it vibrate against your sex. It feel heavenly having Bucky make you fall apart, and he does it with incredible speed and ease. He pushes a second finger, and curls his fingers up, brushing against your most sensitive spot. You immediately shatter above him, letting out a silent scream as you cum. Bucky has to hold you up as you ride out your orgasm, giving you loving kisses on the inside of your thighs.
Once you came down, he rose again, capturing your lips with his. You taste your sweetness on his tongue and you let out another small whine. He pulls away reluctantly, before moving you so he can exit. You look at him with a pout on your face. He chuckles.
“Sorry Doll, can’t be late to the party. Get changed.” He says with a smirk.
“This isn’t over Bucky,”
“Promise doll, I said I’ll take care of you.” He reassures, giving you one last, chaste kiss before exiting the room. You sigh in both frustration and happiness.
Summary: Meeting an orc male deep in the woods, you realize it's orc mating season, but it's too late to run now.
"I'm gonna fuck you, woman," he let out a low growl in your ear, pinning your body to the ground with his, and you felt his boner right above your ass cheeks when you squirmed beneath him, knowing you couldn't escape.
Oh, these orcs and their damn mating season. You had no idea there was an orc village in the area, walking in the forest carefree when a huge male spotted you eating cranberries, their sweet juice painting your lips. Of course, he needed just a couple of seconds to trap you beneath him, his large palm on your neck as he held you close, breathing heavily in your ear, his thick cock rubbing through the fabric of his pants against your ass and making you realize you're so fucked. Shit, mating with orc meant he'd fuck your pussy till it took the form of his monstrous cock. Of course, he was going to cum his brains out, and you could do nothing but be his little supple mate.
"Ever got fucked by an orc?" He chuckled, baring your skin and licking a long stripe along your cheek, his hand already in your pants.
"N-no," you mewled before he kissed you, turning your head to him and filling your mouth with his thick, huge tongue. "Mmmhm..."
Oh, shit, did all orcs kiss so well? Your pussy was already wet when he started fingering you, his fat, calloused fingers spreading your tender folds and shamelessly rubbing against your entrance.
When he bared his own flesh, you felt his cock was much thicker than any human male's you had ever seen. Fuuuuck, it was too much for your sweet pussy to take. If he was gonna fuck you, your cute little hole gonna start gaping, waiting to be filled with a monster cock again.
"Wait," you murmured against his lips, trying to move. "W-wait a second."
He growled again, pinning you to the ground harder and making you squeak, but you quickly reached out to kiss him, allowing him to dominate you again, and the orc relaxed a little, his burly arms no longer hurting you.
"Just let me show you," you whispered, kissing him on the lips, giving him puppy eyes so he'd listen to you, "please. It's gonna feel good."
Exhaling loudly, the orc let you move, and you quickly rolled him over, straddling his hips, finally getting to see him fully. Oh, he looked almost pretty by your human standards, his disheveled hair of a nice warm golden shade, his eyes dark blue, deep as an ocean. He was an orc warrior, his beefy body littered with scars, a war paint on his left shoulder. And, shit, he was so, so big, his balls heavy with seed he was gonna fill you with, making you take his cum until your belly was bulging as if you were pregnant.
"Just like this," you licked your lips impatiently, touching the bottom of your belly with your hand and casting a spell, your fingers glowing pink.
Now you could take him better. Watching an amused orc's face, you got up a little, lining him with your entrance, feeling his already leaking dickhead, and slowly got down, your soaked pussy sheathing his monstrous cock inside, a bulge quickly forming in your belly the lower you got. Shit, shit, shit, he was so big, so big, his dickhead was already kissing your womb, but you didn't took him all yet...
"Fuuuuck," he breathed out, throwing his head back.
You let out a loud moan in return, taking your time to fully accommodate his cock inside you, looking at your bulging belly with arousal and shame. The spell made you pussy way more supple to take a monster cock like that, and all you felt now was intense pleasure. Shit, if only you knew orc cocks were so good, you'd come and find this place a long time ago.
Slowly starting bouncing on top of him, you were already on edge, your sweet little cunt sucking his fat cock in, squeezing it so tight the orc was groaning beneath you, clearly unsatisfied with your pace but giving you time to adjust to his length. You thought it made him feel proud seeing you fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes closed. You were openly admitting you liked mating with him.
Shiiiit, your eyes were rolling inside your skull from pleasure, and started cumming in less than a minute after your pussy took him all, almost blacking out from pleasure. It was just too good, him filling you up so nice his balls were slapping against your ass when you bounced on top of him, your arms on his deliciously strong, muscular hips. When you came around, you were already beneath him again - he put you in a mating press position, undoubtedly, to make sure all his cum was gonna stay inside your womb, and was fucking you like crazy, his pace so fast you did nothing but moan like a cheap slut beneath your orc. Damn, was he one of those orcs who would let a woman go after mating with her? Or did he belong to those who dragged her to his house and mate with her till she gave birth to his kids? Naturally, no women left after that, getting married to their orcs and forming a family. You heard they were constantly pregnant because their orc husbands were insatiable, cumming in them whenever they wanted to get a good fuck. Was the same gonna happen to you? Were you to become an orc's bedwarmer and bear him kids all the time? Fuck, it didn't sound too bad, you thought as you felt the head of his cock pressed right against your g-spot, making you cum again. An image of you, heavily pregnant, living in an orc's house, suddenly looked so sweet to you that you kissed your monster mate, licking his tongue like a kitten.
"What's your name?" He asked you suddenly, thrusting so hard it nearly made you scream, and you put your arms around his wide shoulders, searching for comfort.
Blurting out your name before you were moaning again, you saw the orc grinning at you, his arms on the ground by the both sides of your head, trapping you beneath him.
"What about we call our baby girl like that?" He said and then kissed you, picking up the pace to fuck you relentlessly, so all you heard was the sound of his cock ramming inside your pussy and his balls slapping your wet, slick with juices skin.
Oh, he was one of those orcs who took their mate with them. Shit, you were unlucky. You'd have to stop travelling and settle down here with your monster mate. But it wasn’t that bad, was it? Getting fucked raw with a cock like his every day... Yeah, you were gonna be pregnant all the fucking time, and you'd love it.
"I wanna have ten kids, at least," the orc groaned as you squeezed him, hard. "But if I knock you up each time after you give birth, that's even better. What do you say?"
You couldn't say anything even if you want to, your tongue finally giving out as you cum again, pleasure running the course of your body, leaving your head completely blank. The best you could do was to mumble something and open your mouth so he'd fill it with his big, fat tongue again. Apparently, it was good enough answer for your orc, and he kissed you fervently, squeezing your thighs with his hands. His hot, sticky cum finally started painting your insides as he growled like an animal, rutting deep inside you.
It took you a moment to get back to your senses, but it didn’t matter since an orc just kept fucking you, clearly unsatisfied with just one orgasm. His balls were still heavy, and until he fucked the shit out of you, he wasn't going to stop.
"My wifey," he let out a guttural growl. "My mate. Gonna fuck you till you're heavy with my baby."
Oh, you knew your orc gonna keep his word. Now you just had to get used to the thought of you spending your life with your orc husband.